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In Servitude of the Dark: The Hand That Guides Me	By : xXxLuckyxXx Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 74969 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just play in her world.

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Disclaimer : This story is based off of J.K. Rowling’s amazing Harry Potter series. All characters, locations, themes from the world of HP belong to her. This is not for profit. I am just having fun playing in her magical world. This disclaimer applies to all the following chapters.

“written words”

“spoken words”

Chapter 2 : The Heir of Slytherin – May 27, 1993

Harry was awkwardly shuffled aside when a whole flock of red heads poured in. Seemingly forgotten, Harry quietly watched the controlled chaos of wails, tears, and jumbled babbling, feeling an uncomfortable mix of yearning and jealousy. After all the attempts on Harry’s life this year and the last, no one had tried to tuck him in or cried over him or would miss him if he really had died.

A cool hand on Harry’s shoulder made him turn.

“You are a hundred times better than they are,” Marvolo whispered into Harry’s ear. “You do not need them. It is they who need you. In fact, that family owes you a life debt.”

“Life debt?”

Marvolo nodded. “It’s a magical bond that develops when one wizard saves the life of another at the risk of his own. And this debt must be repaid or the girl’s magic will turn on her.”

Harry’s eyes widened, but before he could think more on it, the Headmaster swept into the overfilled room in all his garishly robed glory. “How is little Miss Ginevera?” the old man asked, his entire body radiating grandfatherly concern.

It was Madam Pomphrey who answered. “Just a case of magical exhaustion. All she needs is a little rest and some Dreamless Sleep and she’ll be good as new by the end of the week.”

“Excellent!” Dumbledore said a little too cheerfully in a room full of distraught family members. Then he turned his gaze on Harry, making him want to shrink into his chair. “And how are you, my dear boy?”

The ghostly hand on his shoulder was both a source of strength and a reminder not to look into those twinkly eyes. So Harry kept his head ducked down as if a little shy and overwhelmed by all the attention. “Ummm…fine, Headmaster,” Harry mumbled, hoping that none of his true emotions showed in his voice or expression.

Apparently it didn’t, because Dumbledore continued. “Your actions tonight does your House proud, my boy,” he said and the Weasleys all nodded in solemn agreement. “Can you tell us what happened?”

Harry shifted in his chair, uncomfortable, his mind racing through what to say. Thankfully, Ron couldn’t wait and started talking about how Hermione had found out the clue, how they’d recruited Lockheart and went down the pipe and into the Chamber of Secrets. Here, Ron elaborated on their face off with the fraud defense teacher, making it sound more like some epic battle.

When it was Harry’s turn, his voice was barely above a whisper, a great contrast to Ron’s boisterous voice. “I had to go on without Ron. It was very dark, even with Lumos, and there was this circular room with Slytherin’s statue in it, but I didn’t see Ginny. I figured there were other tunnels,” Harry said, letting his eyes glaze over as if trying remember, but really he was making things up as he went. “That’s what took me so long, you see? The tunnels were hidden behind walls that would only open to a parsel password. I got lost several times, but I finally found Ginny lying on the ground.” Harry gave a fake shudder and a slight sniff that made half the Weasley’s go ‘awww.’ “I…I thought she was already dead, and I was too late. It would have been all my fault…”

“But you got there in time,” Dumbledore said, trying to sound encouraging.

“After I made sure she was okay, I looked around to make sure the monster wasn’t down there or something, but we were all alone, so I just levitated her out and came to find Ron again.”

The anticlimactic ending was an obvious disappointment to all, but the proud look in Marvolo’s eyes sent a warm pleasant feeling through Harry. “Well done, little one,” he whispered despite the fact that no would hear it.

The Headmaster was not nearly as pleased. “Are you sure that’s it?” he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion. “There is a dangerous beast living beneath the castle. We must know everything you can tell us, if we are going to keep the school safe.”

Harry’s eyes flicked over to Marvolo, afraid the Headmaster was going down to the Chamber. His fears were assuaged at Marvolo’s reassuring look. “Salazar Slytherin’s wards would not allow anyone but a parselmouth to enter, even if you opened it for him. It is why the rock slide separated you from Mr. Weasley and Lockheart.”

Harry mentally relaxed and turned his attention back to Dumbledore before giving an uncertain shrug. “I think so. But I wasn’t really paying much attention, you know? All I could think about was getting to Ginny and then getting back out as quickly as I could.” Harry was tired of being interrogated and wanted some answers for himself. “Sir? There are some things I’d like to ask…” his eyes darted to the gang of red heads who weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were eavesdropping.

This made Dumbledore perk up and his eyes twinkled again. “Of course, my boy,” he said, standing up. “Let us leave the Weasley family to reconnect. Shall we go to my office?”

Harry nodded silently and followed the Headmaster out. Harry was conscious of the subtle looks from the Headmaster and the not so subtle looks from some of the students in the halls.

“I know you have questions, and I am not against you asking them,” Marvolo said softly, trailing beside him. “But the Old Man is already suspicious of you, so take care with your questions.”

Harry gave a slight nod, hearing the warning and the order in those words.

Finally they made it to the gargoyle and up the spiral stairs and into the office. Dumbledore settled behind his large desk, and Harry hovered on the other side, still too worked up to sit in the cushioned chair.

“Lemon Drop, Harry?” Dumbledore offered, popping one into his own mouth.

Harry shook his head and glanced at the phoenix, surprised at the bright red and gold plumes. The last time he was here, the bird looked like a plucked chicken. “Hello Fawkes.” The phoenix gave a soothing trill, and Harry noted how Marvolo treated the magical bird with caution.

“So what is it that you’d like to talk about?” Dumbledore began as it was clear Harry was having trouble starting.

Heeding Marvolo’s warning, Harry chose his words carefully. “I wanna know why things like this keeps happening to me.”

This made both the Headmaster and Marvolo look at him curiously. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Dumbledore admitted.

Harry gave a frustrated huff. “Well, I was told Hogwarts was the safest place in all of Britain except for maybe Gringotts. But last year I almost died several times! I even had to kill a teacher! And then this year students are getting petrified, we’ve had two incompetent Defense teachers, and…and I’m just worried about what’s going to happen next year.”

Dumbledore sighed and nodded. “Your fears are not unfounded,” he admitted. “Magic is a wondrous thing, but as with all things, there is darkness in this world. I have always suspected that Voldemort didn’t truly disappear that night, and from the events of last year, I am sad to say that my suspicions were proven correct.”

Harry was unhappy with the none-answer, but this was the perfect opportunity to bring up another issue. “You told me you couldn’t tell me why Voldemort had targeted my family that night, but surely you can tell me now?”

Hearing this, Marvolo turned from examining one of the silver trinkets, also wanting to hear what the Headmaster would say.

“Alas, my boy,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head. “I cannot. Some knowledge is its own burden, and I do not want you to worry overly much about it. When the time comes, when you are old enough, I will tell you.” Seeing the mulish look on the boy’s face, Dumbledore chuckled. “We wouldn’t want you to turn grey with worry already, now don’t we,” he said. “Besides, as long as you have your mother’s love, you will be protected from Voldemort’s brand of evil. This I assure you.”

Harry was silently fuming inside, wanting to challenge the Headmaster’s claim about his mother’s protection, but he didn’t dare for raising the Headmaster’s suspicion. Of course talk of his mother’s protection inevitably made Harry think of the Dursleys. “Sir, please I don’t want to return to the Dursleys. They absolutely hate me!” Harry’s eyes took on a pleading look and his voice filled with cautious hope, but it was all ignored by the man sitting across from him.

“They are your family, Harry,” Dumbledore said, his voice sounding disappointed and regretful at the same time. “I know they may not be the best people, but all families have their own troubles. A true Gryffindor would love them for who they are and forgive them their flaws.”

“But they lock my stuff up, Dudley hits me all the time, Aunt Petunia does nothing but yell at me, and Uncle Vernon’s the worst! He…” Harry was babbling, but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Enough of this, Harry,” Dumbledore interrupted, his voice firm. “Accusations of abuse should not be made so carelessly. Besides, would you deny them, your own blood, the protection your mother sacrificed for you? Don’t you think your mother would want you to share this protection with her sister and nephew? You know you must return to recharge the blood wards.”

It wasn’t the Headmaster’s words that made Harry swallow his next protests, but the cool arm that wrapped around his shoulders. “You will not return to those abominable muggles, even if we have to leave Britain,” Marvolo said, and the promise in those words was enough to calm him.

I don’t need the Headmaster. I have Marvolo. It was all Harry could do to not turn into the offered embrace. So instead, Harry gave a reluctant nod.

“Do you have any other questions, then?” Dumbledore asked.

Harry recognized the dismissal for what it was and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Then off you go, my boy. You have had a trying night. Things will be clearer in the morning, I assure you.”

Yeah, right. Harry got up and left the office, suppressing the ball of anger that was burning in his gut. Once he was down the spiral staircase and the door closed behind him, Harry immediately started cursing. “Who does he think he is? He can’t control my life like…”

A hand clamped over Harry’s mouth, and despite the fact that it was insubstantial, it surprised Harry enough to derail his thoughts. His eyes turned questioningly towards the spirit.

“Hush, little one,” Marvolo said and cocked his head at some of the paintings around them. “The Headmaster has eyes and ears in the walls. The only portraits that do not report back to him are the ones with serpents.”

Harry nodded silently and led them to his Gryffindor dorm room. Once on the bed, Harry drew the curtains close and added a silencio for good measure. Harry expected his new companion to sit on the bed across from him, but to his surprise, Marvolo placed himself between the headboard and Harry’s back. “What are you…?” Harry felt strong arms wrap around him and stiffened when those arms pulled him backwards against Marvolo’s body. A shiver rippled through Harry’s body, not from the coolness, but from the trickle of magic that flowed from him to the spirit.

“I require contact with you to recharge or else I must return to the diary,” Marvolo explained, looking down to meet Harry’s confused green eyes. “You are not used to being held, little one.”

It was a statement of fact, but Harry nodded shyly anyway. Then he hesitantly tucked his head beneath Marvolo’s chin, forcing his body to relax into the embrace. The flow of magic added a different but not unpleasant connection between them and made the spirit warmer. “I…I like this,” Harry admitted quietly, feeling more safe here than ever before. “But why…why are you acting so nice to me? I thought you were supposed to be…”

“Cruel and uncaring?” Marvolo finished.

Harry shrugged and nodded.

“Oh, I most certainly still am,” Marvolo answered, using one hand to comb through Harry’s head of wild hair. “In that I have not changed, but half of my soul has lived inside you, has lived through the same suffering and pain that you’ve endured. Not even I, a Dark Lord, can remain so unaffected. You are mine and mine alone.”

Harry shivered at the possessive tone and squirmed at the tightening of the arms. He was confused at the swirl of feelings the other man inspired. Harry didn’t like the idea of belonging to anyone, and yet the declaration didn’t scare him as it should. In fact, it made Harry feel safe and even wanted, something he was unaccustomed to feeling. Which reminded him…

“I don’t want to go back to the Dursleys.”

“And you shall not,” Marvolo said like it was a promise. “But we must take care that the Headmaster does not know our plans before we are ready to reveal our hand. He is a cunning and dangerous man.”

“How…?”

“Tomorrow, my Little Serpent,” Marvolo said. “There is much I need to tell you and much we need to plan. But for now, you must rest.”

Harry nodded in agreement. His curiosity was dampened by the promise of answers tomorrow, and so far Marvolo had spoken nothing but truths as far as Harry could tell. So Harry fell asleep to fingers combing through his hair and surrounded by the feeling of safety.

The next day, Harry found himself disappointingly alone, but tucked neatly beneath the covers. Last night was hazy, but he did recall falling asleep above the blankets…and in a certain Dark Lord’s arms. The last thought made Harry’s face burn in embarrassment and was made worse by how much he enjoyed it.

“Marvolo?” Harry whispered, and opened the curtains to look around as if the spirit would suddenly appear. Disappointment washed over him when only the snores of his dorm mates met his call. And then his eyes landed on the small black diary. Recalling Marvolo’s earlier words, Harry quickly dug up a quill, some ink, and opened the diary to some random page.

“Marvolo? “Harry wrote.

“Good Morning, Little Serpent. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes and thank you. I didn’t even have any nightmares.” Harry smiled at the memory but then frowned in concern. “Are you okay? Why are you inside the diary? Did you not get enough magic? I don’t mind sharing with you, you know.” The last part made Harry’s blush return, but he was serious about the offer. “I like it when you are with me.”

“As do I,” Marvolo returned. “But I must be cautious not to draw too much from you. Your fate will not be that of Miss Ginevera Weasley.”

Harry shivered at the memory of the pale, cold body of his friend’s sister. “Will you come out though?”

“I shall when your classes are over,” Marvolo answered. “As I’ve said, there is much that you should know about the past and our future destiny together.”

“Okay,” Harry wrote. “I’ll write to you later then. Bye.”

And with that, Harry closed the book and got ready to face the new day. When Harry arrived at the Great Hall, he immediately noticed how everyone’s head was turned towards the Gryffindor table and the large knot of students gathered near the Weasley siblings. And above all the breakfast noises was Ron’s loud voice telling all who could hear about how he had rescued his sister from the Chamber of Secrets. If Ron was to be believed, he had single handedly defeated the Lockheart, who had been secretly aiding the heir of Slytherin, and Harry was merely there to open the chamber. Hermione, who had started them off with her clue, wasn’t even mentioned.

Spotting Neville, who had been squeezed out to the end of the table, Harry chose to settle next to the quiet boy. He was happy to have the spotlight on someone else for a change. “Good morning,” Harry said as he began filling his plate.

“Hello, Harry,” Neville returned, shooting questioning looks between Harry and the large group of students.

“What is it?” Harry asked.

Neville shifted uncomfortably. “Aren’t you angry that Ron’s…well...”

“Bragging? Exaggerating?” Harry said.

Neville nodded.

Harry shook his head. “I’ve had all the attention I can handle, what with the parseltongue and everything.”

Neville nodded in acceptance. “If it means anything, I think it’s neat that you’re a parselmouth.”

Harry shot the quiet boy a surprised glance. “Really?”

Neville glanced around, making sure no one could hear them. “Yeah, a lot of medi-magic originated from parselmagic. Even muggles use snakes for their symbol of healing.”

Harry’s eyes widened and matched the conspiratory tone Neville used. “Then why does everyone think its evil?”

Neville ducked his head. “Only a few family lines remember the old lores and even fewer practice them. Now, everyone just thinks the Old Ways are just legends or are Dark, if they even remember they exist at all. Now, it’s sort of a taboo to even talk about it.”

Harry rubbed his face tiredly. “The more I learn, the more I think I don’t know.”

Neville just nodded in agreement before finishing his breakfast too.

For Harry, the day could not have passed any slower. Luckily, most of the attention was still centered on Ron and Ginny, leaving Harry free to ponder about all the things he learned from Marvolo and surprisingly from Neville. Neville was an enigma to Harry. He was seemingly afraid of everything and yet was sorted into the House of courage and bravery. He came from an old and noble family and yet did not show off his wealth like Malfoy. He was a genius in Herbology but dreadful in potions. Realizing this, Harry made a vow to get to know his unassuming dorm-mate better.

Finally at the end of the day, Harry slipped away from his friends, closing the curtains around his bed for privacy before writing in the diary.

“Marvolo, are you there?”

In answer, a wisp of silvery light poured out from the empty pages until it took on the familiar form of his companion. Harry was greeted with a gentle smile. “I hope today was not too trying?”

Harry shook his head. “Just frustrated with how my friends were acting and impatient. I couldn’t wait for the day to end.” Harry gave a little bounce, the excitement shining through his eyes. “Oh, and guess what! Neville, one of my classmates, told me something interesting today.”

Marvolo chuckled, the small boy’s enthusiasm was contagious. “And what is this little tidbit that has you so giddy?”

Harry ducked his head in embarrassment, though it didn’t last long because he’d been dying to share what he had learned. “Neville said that medi-magic came from parselmagic!”

“Ah,” Marvolo responded. “So the Old Ways are not so lost after all. That is heartening. And from which family does your friend come from?”

“He’s a Longbottom,” Harry answered, enjoying the fact that Marvolo really was interested in what he had to say and was not just humoring him like the others. “Something happened to his parents and he was raised by his grandmother.”

A look of understanding dawned on Marvolo’s eyes. “Longbottom, the other prophesized child.”

Harry shot him a confused look, which Marvolo returned with a heavy sigh. “What’s wrong, Marvolo?”

“I will not lie to you, little one,” Marvolo began, almost reluctantly. “But I’m afraid the truth behind your parent’s death is not a pleasant one, nor was it something I am proud of.”

Hearing this, Harry leaned forward, wanting to convey reassurance and curiosity. “I know my parents died defending me from you. Can the truth be any worse than that? You didn’t torture them, did you?”

To Harry’s relief, Marvolo shook his head. “You are aware that I am the Dark Lord, but I also had followers, subordinates to carry out my plans. They were called Death Eaters.”

Harry shivered at the name. “That sounds rather morbid.”

“Which was the idea,” Marvolo agreed. “The very name struck fear into our enemies. One of my Death Eaters was a spy who overheard a prophecy recited to Dumbledore. Do you know what a prophecy is, Harry?”

“It’s something that is destined to happen,” Harry guessed.

Marvolo frowned at the simple answer, but nodded. “The thing about prophecies is that they are incredibly difficult to interpret, and some don’t even believe they are true. It is even more so with only half a prophecy. You see Harry,” Marvolo said. “My spy had only heard the first couple lines of the prophecy, and in my arrogance and rashness took it as a warning and chose to eliminate the subject of the prophesy before it, before you, became a threat.”

Harry felt pinned down by the other man’s intensity. “What was the prophecy, sir,” Harry asked, his voice low.

Marvolo’s eyes took on a far-away look as he recited. “The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born as the seventh month dies…The Lord of Dark will mark him, The Lord of Light will raise him…” Marvolo’s eyes returned to focus. “That was as far as my spy got.”

Harry allowed the solemn words to resonate between them for a moment before speaking. “And that was me?”

“And your friend, Longbottom. He was the other prophesized child,” Marvolo said. “I had a choice between the two of you, but as you were born on the 31st and you are a half blood like myself, I felt you were the more likely subject of the prophecy.”

Harry dropped his head and wrapped his arms around his body, vaguely aware that Marvolo was giving him a moment to process this. So it was all because of a stupid prophesy that his parents were targeted and killed. “Did you kill Neville’s parents too?” Harry asked after a while.

“I hadn’t planned on killing your parents or his. I was only going for the prophesized children,” Marvolo said, and Harry nodded in understanding. “Whatever happened to the Longbottoms occurred after my soul piece was separated from the main one, and so I do not know what happened to them.”

“So you don’t know the rest of the prophecy?”

“Regretfully no,” Marvolo admitted, looking at Harry in concern. “I have just given you a lot to think about. Would you like me to return to the diary?”

Harry murmured a soft, “no. I don’t want to be alone.” Apparently this was invitation enough for Marvolo to move. Harry felt large cool hands cupping his face, tilting it up so there eyes connected.

“Know this, Little Serpent,” Marvolo said, allowing a thumb to rub gentle circles on Harry’s cheek. “Had I not been struck with such Gryffindorish impulsiveness, I would have at least gathered more information before acting so impulsively, perhaps waiting and watching to see how you grew up before deciding on a course of action.”

Harry gave a shuddering sigh and nodded in acceptance, his face still held within the two cupped hands. “I’m not sure what to think right now,” Harry said, closing his eyes and pressing a cheek against one of the hands. “But I know I don’t hate you. I don’t even think I can. It would feel like hating myself.” Harry shook his head, frustrated with his confusing emotions. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Of course it does,” Marvolo countered and shifted until he took the same position behind Harry, wrapping his arms securely around the much smaller form. This time, Harry didn’t hesitate to take the comfort offered. “It is the same for me, little one. Our souls know each other, our destinies are intertwined. We were of one mind and heart for all but the first year of your life. It is as close as two souls could possibly be, so to hurt you is to hurt myself.”

Harry nodded. That was exactly what it felt like. Knowing this, it swept aside the last of Harry’s reservations in trusting the spirit of his parents’ killer. “So what’s the plan now?” he asked after savoring the still new feeling of security. “You said I won’t have to go back the Dursleys, but the Headmaster will know. He knows everything, and I have to be there to recharge the blood wards.”

Marvolo nodded thoughtfully. “I doubt they are truly blood wards, but I wouldn’t put it past the Old Man to put some kind of monitoring spell on your relative’s house, and in this form I am powerless to remove them.”

“Can I just lend you my magic, so you can get rid of the monitoring spells?” Harry asked, twisting around so he could look at Marvolo.

“Do me a favor, Harry, and never say something like that to a Slytherin,” Marvolo returned, chuckling and playfully ruffled Harry’s hair. “The temptation would be too much, little one.”

Harry giggled and tried to duck from the teasing hand.

“But as generous as your offer is, without a body, I cannot direct the magic into anything useful,” Marvolo continued. “We may have to return to your relative’s home after all, but that does not mean we will be powerless against a couple muggles. Never again!” The last part was spat out in anger and Marvolo’s eyes flashed red.

Instead of scaring Harry, it made him feel safer to be under the protection of such a powerful and brilliant being. “But what about the Underaged Magic Restriction?”

“How many days left do you have until the end of school?”

It took a moment for Harry count. “Umm…a little more than a week, 9 days.”

Marvolo nodded. “That will be enough time. How many galleons do you have on you right now?”

The question was odd, but Harry answered anyway. “A little less than 60, and I think Mrs. Weasley still has my Gringotts key.”

“Mmmm, that will have to change,” Marvolo said decisively. “The first thing we must do is to see what kind of spells the Old Man has placed on you.”

Hearing this, Harry stiffened. “Spells? Like for spying?” Harry didn’t know why this surprised him, not after finally realizing how Slytherin the Headmaster really was. Suddenly, Harry felt overwhelming gratefulness towards Marvolo. With his own under-developed Slytherin side, Harry knew he wasn’t cunning enough, not yet, to match Dumbledore in a battle of wits and strategy. But Marvolo was, and because their souls were so intertwined, Harry instinctively knew Marvolo would no sooner betray him than he would betray himself.

A/N: I know it seems a little unbelievable for Harry to suddenly trust Marvolo so much, but I am attributing this to their soul connection. They had lived as one being for all but the first year of Harry’s life, suffered through all the same abuse, and shared all the same thoughts and feelings. To hate the other would be akin to hating oneself. I hope I explained that part clear enough.
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In Servitude of the Dark: The Hand That Guides Me