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False Ties (Prequel to: Family Ties)	By : JunjouSlashGirl Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 4583 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the characters. All rights belong to J. K. Rowling. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Chapter 2: An Unexpected Tutor:
Second Year - Part I
(Rhian aged 8)
His steps echoed wetly as he ran down the long, broad pipe that opened up in front of him. The ground beneath him was covered by a thin layer of water, dirt and the bones of small animals.
This was the second "training mission" Dumbledore was sending him on. He had learned a lot in the past year, at least in regards to spells and "information" about their enemies, the Dark Wizards and Witches.
He scoffed inwardly; it had become even clearer that the old coot wanted to keep him under his thumb, teaching him nothing that could help him to grow into a self-sufficient person. Unfortunately, he had yet to find a way as to how to gain more knowledge. It wasn't easy without being able to read or write and the Headmaster never let him out of his sight for long if one of his other tutors was not close, but Phineas reminded him to stay patient whenever they managed a few undisturbed words. It didn't happen often, as for that to happen each of the other portraits had to be asleep, otherwise they would have eavesdroppers, or even worse; portraits who shouted at the former Headmaster to stop polluting his mind with his evil theories.
It also didn't matter what Phineas was trying to tell or ask him, in the minds of the other former Headmasters and Headmistresses, even asking about the weather had to follow a twisted plot, trying to draw him over to the 'Dark Side'.
He saw a wall rising only a few meters away from him and slowed down until he came to a stop. With a sigh of relief he noticed that he had taken the right path by following the animal bones.
There was a huge metal portal in the middle of the wall, clearly guarded by more magical animated snake carvings.
"Open!" he hissed commandingly and just as upstairs, in that run down girls toilet, the snakes obeyed and started moving.
As soon as a gap wide enough to let him through had opened, he continued on his way. If this "training mission" would turn out anything like the one last year, he wanted to get it done quickly and return home.
It hadn't really surprised him that the Dark Lord had truly still been alive, but what had shocked him had been the impact the meeting had on him. Even in that ghostly, weakened state, his skin had tingled with the power the spirit had radiated. And then he had made a mistake; he had killed the Professor the Dark Lord had possessed and also the spirit, or maybe he had only chased him away, which wasn't much better, because as soon as Lord Voldemort had vanished, he had noticed that during their brief interaction a connection must have built which had been severed then.
Looking back at the event, he still felt like cursing himself. He didn't understand what had happened and he knew he could not ask Dumbledore for an explanation. Of course, he couldn't be sure if the Dark Lord would have an answer, or if he would answer one of his many questions about the 'Dark Side'; they were enemies after all, even though that concept still felt strange to him, especially after said encounter.
No, he didn't feel like killing Lord Voldemort, he never truly had, he had only accepted Dumbledore's offer to become stronger, but after meeting the Dark Lord he only felt curious. He doubted that it was the outcome the old coot had planned when sending him after that Professor, but he had never told the Headmaster that he felt annoyed and just 'wrong' in the proximity of the Light Witch or the two Light Wizards he knew.
But maybe, just maybe if he was lucky enough, the Heir of Slytherin would be able to answer a few of his questions before he had to kill him? But to find out, he had to find that guy first, so he blinked a few times and concentrated on the room he had just entered.
The first thing he noticed was that "room" was definitely the wrong word. Chamber, was clearly more fitting, but he had expected another long pipe after the small portal and not to stumble directly into Salazar Slytherin's secret hall.
He scanned the gloomy chamber in front of him, taking in the detailed carved snakes that lined the long walls to both sides of him, until his eyes landed onto a gigantic statue opposite of him. There, towering in gigantic glory stood nothing other than a gigantic marble statue of the infamous founder. His eyes were sharp as a hawk's, his chin strong and pronounced with a pointy goatee, his long hair fell in elegant curls down to his shoulders and his robes were decorated richly. He could only imagine what the wizard had been like during his life.
"Well, well, well, who has taken on the long journey to meet me so far below the foundations of Hogwarts? A pawn of Dumbledore?"
Harry's head snapped up and a shiver went down his back at the sound of a dark baritone, seemingly coming out of nowhere. It sent shivers down his spine, as a feeling of recognition washed over him. Instantly, some of the tension left his body and he searched the darkness for the man. His heart skipped a beat as he could find nothing and the organ in his chest seemed to quiver as if it was about to break. Then, finally, a figure stepped out of the shadows that loomed beneath the statue.
It was a man, maybe in his mid twenties, but he had never been good in guessing ages. He could instantly see why this man had to be the Heir of Salazar Slytherin; their features were so much alike. Just like the founder, this man possessed sharp, high cheekbones, hawk-like eyes, perfectly shaped thin lips and eyebrows (although the latter were not as bushy as those of his ancestor) and broad shoulders. There were also a few differences. The man was leaner and the curls had lessened to soft waves; also, he had no facial hair.
The man stalked towards him, in a way that made Harry feel like prey for a moment, but then the nervousness was once again washed away by the sense of familiarity and replaced by a strong urge to run into the man's arms and embrace him. But something was rooting him in place, it was the prickling sensation, which reminded him more and more of Lord Voldemort with every step the man took, even though it seemed somehow 'weaker'.
Finally the other man came to a halt in front of him and gave him something he could only describe as an evil smirk, but it vanished as soon as their eyes met and the stranger froze. His features went vacant for a moment, but it was over within a split second, so quickly indeed, that Harry would have thought that he must have imagined it if it were not replaced by a look of wonder. Relief filled Harry; apparently the man recognized him as well and would be able to tell him where they had met before. Fantasies of packing his few belongings and going with the man to a nice house where he would have his own, nice room and as much food as he wanted filled his mind; but then the strangers expression changed again, morphing into a steely, suspicious mask. Harry knew that look. His aunt always wore it when she was suspicious that he had done something.
"My," he said and leaned forwards, making Harry's muddled emotions intensify.
"The old fool truly has to be desperate to send someone so young after me…" he paused for a moment, watching Harry intensely, before he continued: "It's almost a pity…"
A tight feeling suddenly constricted Harry's throat as all his hopes vanished and he quickly lowered his head to hide the single tear that had spilled over. Only when he was sure that it had dried, did he look up again to glare at the stranger in defiance.
"You are such a cute child. I am sure you would grow into a handsome…" the man continued, an evil smile stretching his previously smooth features. By now, one of those long, and perfectly manicured fingers were nearly touching Harry's face and suddenly feeling desperate to feel the connection between them again, he closed his eyes, hope against hope that the finger which was moving closer and closer to his face, would be enough to reinforce it again. Then the finger connected with his skin and a flood of emotions crashed into him; the familiarity came back, even stronger than before, but there was also a deep trust, security and warmth, emotions he had never felt before but had always imagined the hug of a mother would feel like.
Automatically, he tried to press his cheek into the hand that was connected to the digit and to his surprise the other did not pull away. The touch was strangely cold, like touching a ghost he would imagine to feel, but he didn't mind, not after the many years without any human touch. For a long, blissful moment, Harry stood there, just enjoying the first nice human contact in his life. The fingers began to caress his cheek softly and his eyelids fluttered as if they wanted to open and made him see the man that was holding him so tenderly, before settling back down again, letting him just relish in the sensation.
"Tell me your name, little one," the man's voice spoke up, soft and soothing, but as Harry looked up to him, he saw that the stranger was frowning slightly. Not liking the expression on the nice man's face, Harry searched the man's green eyes, which reminded him strongly of someone, but unfortunately he couldn't remember of whom. It irked him somewhat fiercely, because his gut was telling him that it was something important, something he really should remember. Then their gazes connected and a searing pain surged through his scar and head. Gasping, he stumbled backwards, but before he could fall, a strong hand grabbed him and steadied him again.
"It is true then," the man whispered in a strange, far-away sounding voice, but in the next moment, Harry could see how he snapped back to reality, and then started moving with fluid, swift and purposeful motions. Before he knew what was happening a chaise lounge appeared a bit to the side and the man was walking over, pocketing a strange looking white wand on his way and sitting down, before motioning for Harry to come over.
Harry didn't hesitate for a moment, his hope had returned once again and he was so desperate to feel something other than the constant loneliness.
To his surprise, as he came to a halt in front of the stranger, he was picked up and settled down next to him. The man's strong arm reached around his shoulders and drew him closer, so that Harry, after the man had reclined comfortably against the arm rest, could snuggle up next to him, which he did without losing any time. Not even the unnatural coolness of the wizard was a problem after going a lifetime without any kind human touch...
"Please, excuse my initial rudeness; I have failed to introduce myself. My name is Marvolo Zanden Slytherin, Heir of the Great and Noble Founder Salazar Slytherin. And now tell me your name."
"My Name is Harry, Harry James Potter," Harry answered without hesitation, but felt a bit confused as Mr. Slytherin made a disgusted sound.
"Harry James, that is not a name worthy of a noble and powerful child like you," Mr. Slytherin sneered.
Following a sudden impulse, Harry said: "You can give me another name if you want?" As he realized what he had just offered he blushed, but he did not take his words back. He did not feel connected to the name Harry, even though his parents had given it to him. Maybe it was because Dumbledore always called him by it, or maybe even because he still didn't feel connected to the images of his mother and father, but he truly didn't care for his name.
Mr. Slytherin's left eyebrow had lifted and he was looking at him with a strange expression Harry could not decipher, but after another second had ticked by, the man inclined his head and accepted. "Then I shall call you Rhian from now on."
Nodding, Rhian asked: "Is Rhian your favorite name or something?"
"It is. It was the name of someone very dear to me and you remind me strongly of him. Thus you shall carry his name with the appropriate honor it deserves. Now, tell me some news about Hogwarts. You must have some information about the school, even though you look too young to be a student yet, but as you clearly have been sent down here by Dumbledore, you must know at least some of the things that are going on these days."
Snuggling deeper into the embrace, Harry, no he was Rhian now, had to think for a moment to find an answer in his mind. The feel of the body next to him, the hand that was softly combing through his hair and especially the feeling of security had made his mind a bit sluggish and his eyes had started to drift shut. However, he wanted to give the man who had just given him a name that truly felt as if it was a name meant just for him, an answer, so he forced his eyes back open. Unfortunately, he couldn't answer the first question.
"I… don't know," he mumbled barely audibly, feeling embarrassed about how ignorant he was
"You don't know? How is that possible? You are being trained by Dumbledore, correct?"
Nodding, Rhian bit on his bottom lip, a nervous habit he had developed while especially hungry and told Mr. Slytherin: "Dumbledore only let's me out of his office to go to my combat lessons with Professor Moody and my Metamorphmagus Professor comes up to me so that I don't have to leave for two classes."
Unconsciously, his shoulders had stiffened during his explanation as something inside of him could not forget the many beatings he had gotten in the past for a bad answer, but when Mr. Slytherin didn't answer after a while, he carefully glanced up. The man's eyes were glazing with some kind of emotion, but as he finally replied, he sounded eager:
"You are a Metamorphmagus? Show me your true appearance."
It wasn't really a question, but Rhian didn't mind the commanding tone he had the feeling that it was just something in Mr. Slytherin's character, something he was just used to and did not mean it unkindly like his relatives did.
However, Dumbledore's warning still rang in his ears, so he hesitated for a moment and then asked carefully:
"Will you help me change back into this appearance later?"
The frown was instantly back on Mr. Slytherin's face and Rhian ducked his head as the man asked: "Why would you want to look like someone else?"
"Because Mr. Slytherin Sir, Dumbledore wants me to look more like my father, so that I can give people hope."
"Because of the war, I presume?" the man questioned further, and Rhian stiffly nodded, not sure if he should feel more ashamed about his missing similarity to his parents or that he was forced to wear this appearance every day and couldn't do anything against it.
"Yes, Mr. …"
"You may call me Marvolo, little one." Mr. Slytherin cut him off.
"Oh… okay…" he quickly agreed and then realizing what the man had just permitted him, his face split into a broad smile. He wasn't even allowed to call his aunt and uncle by their first names, but a total stranger liked him enough to give him permission, and that was what it had to mean, because his aunt always said that only people who liked you would allow you to use their first name.
He quickly concentrated again, as Mr… no, Marvolo, spoke up after a short pause:
"I will," Marvolo simply promised and for the first time in more than a year, Rhian reached for his magic, not to train his morphing ability and change into someone else, but to pull his magic back and return to his natural self.
He felt his hair growing again, much longer even than it had been last time he had seen it. It now spilled down his back to his tailbone. He also felt himself shrinking even further; he had always been too small for his age and for a proper Potter of his age, but he didn't mind, he just relished in the feeling of being himself again after so long.
As he finally opened his eyes again, Marvolo looked at him strangely. It instantly made him feel nervous and he started to fidget slightly. He couldn't read the man's expression, could it be disgust? He hoped not, but to make sure that he didn't offend the man, he asked: "Should I turn back?"
Marvolo blinked once, but then said: "No, this appearance suits you much better than the other one. It is far more appealing. Now," he added, pausing "why do you play the obedient little puppet for Dumbledore, if he does not even let you wear your own skin? And do not try to lie to me, I have been a pupil of the old fool as well and know his methods."
Rhian felt his eyes widening, he had never met someone who talked badly about the Headmaster or not behaved respectfully; even his aunt seemed to have some respect for the old wizard, or at least fear him. So he asked: "You do?"
Marvolo sneered.
"Of course," the man nodded. "I was a Slytherin."
Marvolo didn't give more of an explanation, but he also didn't have to; after all, Rhian had listened to the old coot's prejudices about Salazar Slytherin, the pupils who were sorted into his house, and 'Dark Wizards and Witches' for nearly two years by now. And in all likelihood, Marvolo, having not only been a Slytherin but actually the Heir of the infamous founder, had probably made it even worse.
"Now answer my question!" Marvolo suddenly reminded him, and Rhian flushed in embarrassment, as he actually had to think to remember what the man's question had been. Here he was, possibly having found someone who liked him, and he didn't even listen properly. Fortunately his memory came back quickly:
"I want to learn as much magic as quickly as possible."
"Why?"
This time, Rhian actually hesitated longer. He hated to talk about his home life, the one time he had confessed to the Headmaster that he was being abused had been bad enough and after the old wizard's reaction he hated it even more, but what seemed even worse, was to confess to Marvolo that he was treated worse than the dog of the neighbors.
Marvolo looked as if he came from a rich home with loving parents. His robes looked expensive, his hair was cut neatly and he still remembered that perfectly manicured hands he had seen before.
Still he answered: "So that I can live alone."
At his words Marvolo's eyes narrowed. "Whom are you living with? Your parents are dead, if I remember correctly."
"I am living with my mother's non-magical sister and her husband," he explained.
"That is just like Dumbledore, putting a magical child into the care of muggles," Marvolo sneered and Rhian found himself shocked at the amount of hatred he suddenly saw in those radiant green eyes. "No wonder you are too small and too thin for your age. How old are you anyway?"
"I am eight years old," Rhian told him automatically, before he added: "But what have my aunt and uncle being muggles to do with them treating me badly? I don't understand..."
Marvolo's lips curled in what could only be disgust; even Rhian could read that expression. "Of course you would not know. Dumbledore would not have taught you anything besides his 'Light' propaganda. But those are as far from the truth as a fairytale from reality."
"What is the truth?" Rhian found himself asking with bated breath. For the first time he felt as if he was getting somewhere. Marvolo was actually telling him stuff and added to that, the fact that Dumbledore's words always felt like lies, he couldn't do anything but feel that whatever was coming next would be the truth and important.
"Muggles have a natural fear and dislike for magic. Unfortunately, I do not know everything, only my other 'self' does, but about 2000 years ago, there was only one type of magic in this world and muggles did not exist."
Frowning, Rhian said nothing for a moment. It took him some time to sort through the things Marvolo had just told him. Finally, one question stuck out in his head and he asked it: "So, muggles don't belong in our world?"
"Yes," was all the other man answered.
"And how did they get here? Are they aliens or something?"
Marvolo's hand stopped combing through his hair and instead fell down onto the backrest where it started to tap an agitated rhythm onto the soft fabric.
"That is the crux of the matter, is it not? But no, I do not believe that muggles came from a portal, or are 'aliens', as you put it. Portals are something even we wizards have not yet invented. If you truly want to learn more about the truth behind the ongoing fight between 'Light' and 'Dark' in our world and get a chance to oppose and separate from Dumbledore, then you need to learn more about our world's history, the true history, not what is written in school textbooks. And you should learn more about the Pureblood Society. Best would be to get to know one personally. But as long as you are so tightly under the old fool's thumb, this will be difficult to accomplish."
Balling his fists, Rhian looked down at his shoes. This was so frustrating. He didn't need someone to tell him that he needed to learn more, needed to read up on things; he knew that already, but he just couldn't. But no, he would not back peddle now. Not when he finally had someone so knowledgeable about the Wizarding World sitting across from him and actually had the chance to speak to that person in private, without Dumbledore being any the wiser.
"Can't you help me?"
His response was a raised eyebrow. "Did I not just do that? I told you what you need to do to gain more knowledge and better your situation."
Closing his eyes, and willing the blush he could feel rising to not climb up to his cheeks and ears, Rhian took a deep breath. He knew what he had to do, what would be the only good argument to make Marvolo change his mind, but it was so difficult to open up a second time. Still, he knew he had no other choice:
"Yeah… you did, but I... I cannot simply read up on those things," he forced out.
"I am sure you will find an opportunity to sneak out and fetch some books if I tell you where you can find them…" Marvolo started, but Rhian quickly interrupted him, before his courage would leave him:
"I cannot read up on those things because I cannot read!" he practically shouted and then pushed his hands in front of his mouth in embarrassment.
For long seconds shocked silence filled the space between them, then Marvolo said in a disbelieving tone of voice:
"You are trying to tell me that you cannot read? You are eight years old. I do not a lot about muggles, but I do know that even they have schools for their children."
"My aunt and uncle never sent me to kindergarten where my cousin learned a few basics. I had to earn my keep," he quickly rushed out, thinking that after what he had already confessed, he could be honest the whole way. "And when I was seven years old, Dumbledore came to start my private schooling, so I don't visit a primary school either. And he never taught me how to read or write."
"And how are you able to learn the Defensive and Offensive Spells he surely is teaching you?" Marvolo asked, his eyes narrowed, but his voice had gained a more enquiring hint.
"He is just showing me the movements and telling me the incantation and what it is used for. Then I train with dummies and later we have training duels."
Marvolo stared at him for a couple of more seconds, and then asked rather oddly: "So you wish for me to train you? Are you sure? I will be a tough and ruthless tutor."
"Yes," he replied automatically. "Besides, you cannot be crueler than Dumbledore. I can deal with strict and ruthless as long as I get something worth the effort in the end."
Marvolo's face suddenly changed back to that wicked smirk and he said: "Well then, I will teach you. You do show very promising talents after all. However, I will not stand any complaining, and we will be tutor and teacher, I demand respect"
Rhian eagerly nodded; sure, he had started to like the man at some point and was a little bit disappointed that Marvolo wasn't interested enough in him to see him as a friend, but at the moment he would take what he was offer without complaining.
"Furthermore…" Marvolo continued and he quickly concentrated back onto his new tutor. ""My rules will be law and…"
"Yes?" Rhian echoed eager to get out of the chamber with his new tutor. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was afraid that Dumbledore might show up if he stayed much longer; after all, he had left the entrance to the chamber wide open.
"...you have to smuggle me out of here and feed me regularly."
"Rhian's face fell. "I… I have nothing to share with you. I barely get a piece of toast and a can of cold soup each day. Often less."
Marvolo's head snapped around. "No worries, I will take care of those… problems. But I did not mean food anyway," he waved off and even that casual gesture looked like the most aristocratic movement Rhian had ever seen.
"I will need a little of your magic, because you see, I am only a couple of memories my older self preserved in this Diary," the man explained with a careless, but elegant gesture in the direction of something Rhian had not noticed so far. However, now that he had, he could not understand how he had missed the crumbled body lying next to what seemed to be an old, black leather notebook, only a few steps away from where they had stood and spoken earlier.
Finding himself suddenly morbidly fascinated, he stood up without replying anything and crouched next to the figure. It wasn't hard to guess who it was; Dumbledore, after all, had told him that the Heir of Slytherin had kidnapped a girl from a prominent 'Light Pureblood' family and that he would recognize her by her ginger red hair.
However, his curiosity grew as he could not decipher, even from up close, whether she was alive or not. There was no spilled blood, but her cloak prevented him from seeing any slight breathing that might be there, so he stretched out his hand and pushed the hood that was partly hiding the girls face away, but instantly pulled his hand away as soon as he had done so. While he felt unusually comfortable in Marvolo's proximity, just getting near the girl's skin had been enough to make his skin crawl.
"It's interesting, isn't it?" Marvolo's voice suddenly sounded from right behind him and he turned his head in surprise.
"What is interesting?"
Dumbledore is so careful to keep you away from any 'Dark' influence, I think I am correct in assuming that with me you are just talking to your first 'Dark Wizard', but your core instinctively and immediately recognized your kin and clearly reacts negatively to those who are not of your magic. But with this one, it is quite intriguing. She in truth has the potential to turn into a Dark Grey Witch."
Not understanding, Rhian frowned and asked: "What do you mean? My kin?"
"Have you not have noticed it? Your clear dislike for 'Light' people like this girl in front of you? Have you never felt something similar towards the old fool?"
"I have…" he replied, still not understanding.
"Is it not logical what this means? What I mean with our kindred?" Marvolo continued and suddenly the coin dropped and Rhian's eyes widened in realization:
"I am a 'Dark Wizard', right? That is why I can't believe Dumbledore and why I am so interested in learning more about the 'Dark Side'!" he exclaimed.
"Correct."
"But how can that be… my mother and my father, they both were…" he began but broke off in the middle of his sentence, remembering suddenly his conflicted feelings as he had seen his parent's childhood pictures two years ago. How neither of them had looked even remotely similar to him. "Doesn't matter…" he said and shook his head. He couldn't think about his parents right now anyway, not while he was down in the Chamber of Secrets.
"Anyway," Marvolo pulled him back to reality. "As I told you, I am not human; I am merely a magical artifact, although a very powerful one, you will find that there are in fact only a few artifacts that could compare to me. My original plan was to drain all the life and magic from young Ginevra's body, leaving her dead and me with an independent, strong vessel. The plan is working well, as you can see. Poor, lonely, little Ginevra Weasley poured her fears, sorrows and hopes into me for a month. Along with her magic and life force, of course, but Dumbledore will get suspicious if you tell him you defeated me but wasn't fast enough to rescue her. As much as I dislike the old fool, he knows his Magical Theory and will not be tricked that easily. As I have decided that it will be of more use for me in the long run to tutor you first and postpone the matter of a body for a little longer, you will bring her up and take me along with my Diary. However, once I devoured the magic I already consumed, I will need some of yours to keep interacting. But do not worry, you will barely notice any drain; you are a 'Dark Wizard' and therefore naturally stronger than this 'Light Witch'."
"So," Rhian asked with a nod and gestured over to the unconscious girl and the Diary, "what should I do exactly? Just close your Diary and you will vanish inside of it?"
Marvolo sneered at him; he clearly had said something wrong or stupid. "It will not be that easy to get rid of me, you can already take note to remember that for our lessons. Closing the Diary will not be enough to shut me up when you get tired or do not agree with some of my methods." Whilst speaking, Marvolo had moved closer to the Diary and was now stepping onto, or rather inside a page. It looked as if the man was going down a staircase and shrinking at the same time, however, he stopped when his shoulders and head where still visible.
"You will take the body upstairs and tell Dumbledore that you destroyed the Diary with the Basilisk's fang which I sent after you to kill you. However, you defeated it, found a broken off tooth and in your desperation to help the girl," at that the man sneered again, "you stabbed the Diary with it. As a Basilisk's fang holds the most toxic poison known in the magical world, it would have been enough to actually destroy me. But you will of course not do so. You will hide me somewhere beneath that ugly, unfitting excuse of an upper-body coverage you are wearing and smuggle me into your home."
Having apparently finished after helping Rhian revert back to his disguised look, Marvolo disappeared completely into the notebook, and as if moved by a strong wind, the pages began fluttering until it shut closed.
Surprised and honestly confused by the abrupt ending and the fact that he had been left alone in that huge, dark and dingy labyrinth, Rhian needed a moment to gather his wits and start moving again. Like Marvolo had commanded him, he picked the Diary up, moved it between his stomach and belt, which was keeping his cousins enormous jeans in place, and covered it with the ugly, washed out t-shirt. At least Dudley's oversized clothes were useful for once and not plainly hindering. After he was sure that no one would notice anything, he turned to face the girl again, pulled out his wand and with a precise wave made her lift up into the air and follow in his wake.
He let his eyes wander through Salazar Slytherin's chamber one last time and had to admit, if not for Marvolo, he would have been disappointed. He had expected something more than a dingy hall with puddles filling half of the rough, stony floor, snake statues to his left and right and a huge figure of the man himself. Why had the wizard even found the need to build such a room and protect it so strongly on top of it? He couldn't imagine, and honestly, by now he was too tired and exhausted to think about it any longer. So he finally turned around and left the chamber the same way he had entered it.
ΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθ
The exhaustion he felt as he dragged his feet back through the pipe that now seemed nearly never ending, was more of a mental weariness than anything physical, as he had done little more that to sit next to Marvolo and chat. Still, he was relieved when he finally saw the exit, grabbed the rope he had conjured for his journey down and climbed back up.
Once back in the girls toilet, he waited for the girl's body to catch up with him, before he closed the entrance securely, making it secret once more.
He had barely left the room and turned around the next corner, when he nearly collided with something awfully bright yellow and lime green.
"Ah, Harry my boy; I see you are back safe and sound. I was just about to check up on you. After all, as much as I trust in your abilities, one can never be sure about the tricks Voldemort hides up his sleeves."
Blinking once, twice, Rhian needed a moment to work through what he had just heard. So, Marvolo had once been Voldemort? After all, that was the only conclusion that made sense if he considered that Marvolo had told him that he was nothing more than "Memories, preserved by his old self in that Diary". He knew he probably should freak out, but Marvolo had seemed reasonable enough, nothing at all like the crazed 'Dark Lord' Dumbledore had described over and over again, but he didn't.
"Can I assume that you defeated him once more?" Dumbledore pulled him out of his musings and he automatically nodded, before telling the old wizard exactly what Marvolo had told him to say: "I destroyed him… or rather his Diary. With a Basilisk fang."
The Headmaster nodded, before he turned around and said: "Follow me. We will take Ms. Weasley to the Hospital wing so that our school nurse can look after her. Then you can give me the Diary and report what exactly transpired between you and Voldemort," sounding as if he had known all along that Rhian would find a Diary down in the chamber.
Glancing up the old Headmaster, he knew that he would not get a better opening to "explain" that he had forgotten the Diary in the Chamber of Secrets. But what kept him hesitating for another moment, was the smirk that wanted to creep onto his face; a smirk, which he could not show Dumbledore if he wanted a chance to get away with his lie.
So clearing his throat, he said: "I am sorry Professor, but…" Dumbledore's eyes instantly focused on him and he saw a slight straightening of the old man's back.
"What is it, my boy? Did something happen in Slytherin's Chamber? You DID manage to destroy Voldemort's Diary?"
There was an urgent note in Dumbledore's voice, but Rhian couldn't really understand its meaning. Making a mental note to tell Marvolo about the conversation, he for now went on: "Yes, I did, but I left it down in the Chamber… I just… I only could think about Ginny, she looked so pale… she still does. So I forgot…"
A flash of annoyance quickly flickered over the Headmaster's face, but he masked it quickly and in the next second his false, grandfather-smile was back in place.
"No worries my boy, as long as you destroyed it, everything will be fine. But next time you come across an artifact of his, make sure to bring it along, it might give us useful information on how to defeat him once and for all."
"I'll make sure to remember," he replied as was expected of him, but fell silent as they finally approached a pair of huge double doors. Probably the Hospital Wing. As they came even closer, the doors automatically swung open, leaving the view of a large, white room, with rows of beds on each side of the wall. There were privacy screens which could be drawn between the beds, and fresh air and sunlight came through many windows.
"Poppy," Dumbledore called, and in the next moment, a stern looking matron poked her head out of a door that stood ajar at the end of the long hall.
"Albus, what brings you…" she started, but then must have seen the floating body behind them and gasped.
"Albus what happened? Is that young Ms Weasley?"
"Yes," replied Dumbledore gravely and moved the unconscious girl over to a free bed. "That is indeed Ginevra. Harry got to her just in time."
At those words, the nurse's head snapped back to him, apparently noticing his presence for the first time, and for a moment she stared at him in shock, before her features morphed into a warm, grateful smile.
For a split second, Rhian wanted to sneer at her worry for the stupid girl, but then found himself unable to do so. At least Poppy was honest in her relief and he could respect that.
His train of thoughts was barely finished, when the nurse had already turned away from him again and started to mutter spells which he didn't recognize under her breath. Still, she somehow managed to order him: "And you Mr. Potter, hop onto a bed as well. I will check you over as soon as I am finished with your friend."
At that statement, he truly had to hide his sneer now. Ginny was definitely no friend of his. Firstly, Dumbledore had made sure that he would not meet anybody he could befriend and secondly, he would not have selected that redhead.
For a few more moments, he continued to watch the procedure, but soon he became bored and restless. For once he wished to return to the Dursley's, so that he could quickly finish his chores, crawl into his cupboard and continue his conversation with Marvolo. However, as he was stuck, he tried to distract himself by examining the few magical objects he could see nearby. Or maybe sensing was the better word, because he could feel something like electricity on his skin. It wasn't the nice tingling he had gotten when Marvolo touched him, but it was also not strong enough to make him feel uncomfortable like Dumbledore tended to do. Strangely enough, he could sense nothing from Ginevra, and wondered whether the girl was just that weak or if it had to do with whatever Marvolo had done to her. He really needed to speak to the man again and clear some more of his questions.
A shadow then fell over him, and as he blinked and looked up, he realized that he must have been in thought for longer than expected, because the nurse was now standing next to his bed. A screen had been pulled in front of Ginevra's bed, protecting her from curious looks, or his eyes from the sight of her ugly red hair.
"Now, Mr. Potter, are you injured somewhere? Do you feel any pain or dizziness?"
Shaking his head, Rhian leaned back against the headboard of his bed. "No, Madame."
But the nurse did clearly not believe him, because she pulled her wand out, pointed it at him and muttered another row of spells. The diagnostic spell was as uncomfortable as any other spell that had ever been cast on him, but at least he was starting to understand what the reason for the feeling could be, thanks to Marvolo.
"It seems," the nurse began with a frown "that you are truly not suffering from any great injury right now. However there are…"however, before she could continue she was cut off abruptly by Dumbledore: "That will be enough then. You need not worry about some minor bruises, Poppy; the boy has daily training with myself and Alastor after all."
The nurse's frown merely deepened, and Rhian could feel a warm flutter in his chest as she ignored the old Headmaster and asked: "Harry, if you need anything…" unfortunately, Dumbledore would not let anybody help him.
"I said that's enough, Poppy," however, the warning glare he threw was not directed at the nurse, but at him, making it clear that the nice woman would pay for her kindness if he said the wrong thing now. And he couldn't let that happen. So he quickly said: "I truly am fine, Madame. Please, can I go home now?"
"Sure my boy, let me show you to the floo," Dumbledore smiled, now content once more, and Rhian quickly hopped from his bed.
The fireplace in the Hospital Wing was located in the middle of the left wall and fittingly, a kidney dish held a portion of floo powder. Grimacing at the bad taste in humor, Rhian took a handful, threw it into the fire and called out his destination, before he quickly stepped inside. He didn't feel like being held back by Dumbledore any longer.
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As he arrived home, he realized that it was so late that the Dursley's had all gone to bed already. So, as silently as possible, he stepped out of his trainers, which were dirty and wet after his excursion into the Chamber of Secrets and then quickly made his way out of the living room and down the hallway to his cupboard. As he passed the kitchen, his eyes wandered longingly to the refrigerator and the table, but as he saw nothing left behind for him, he knew he would be punished if he just took something out.
However, for once the thought didn't fill him with as much loathing and anger as it usually did, as his mind was already preoccupied with the Diary that was still squeezed between his belt and stomach. Therefore, he opened his cupboard, crawled inside and laid down on his thin mattress, before he rolled onto his side and pulled the notebook out.
His hand already had stretched out to open it, when he pulled it away again. In his excitement to have someone to talk to, he had almost forgotten that the man in the Diary was none other than the 'Dark Lord', or rather his memories, which seemed a bad description considering that the man had even been able to touch him.
Unconsciously, he started to worry his bottom lip. How should he behave now that he knew the truth? Should he tell Marvolo that he knew who he was? Or act as if nothing had changed between them? But no, he couldn't do the latter; he wanted to know why Marvolo had not told him himself who he really was. Furthermore, who would be better able to answer all his questions about the 'Dark Arts' than the 'Dark Lord'?
Nodding to himself and breathing in deeply, he finally pushed the Diary open to the first page, which was for some reason empty. Strange, hadn't Marvolo mentioned that Ginevra had written in that Diary? Or had he misunderstood as the memory had said "poured her fears, sorrows and hopes"?
However, before he could start wondering about the question of how to get Marvolo to appear again, the paper of the Diary began to quiver as if a stone had been dropped into a pond and a face materialized.
"Where have you brought us to?" Marvolo demanded, his green eyes scanning over the dim light bulb hanging above him, the bare, dirty walls and the lonely, nearly empty shelf where Rhian kept his spare clothes.
"We are in my cupboard," he replied and tried not to flush in embarrassment.
"Your cupboard?" the memory questioned, his disbelief badly hidden behind the sneer that contorted his aristocratic face. "This is unacceptable. I will not be living and teaching you in a cupboard." An annoyed expression crossed Marvolo's features and he muttered: "Of course this would not work... " his eyes then settled on Rhian, who blinked stupidly, not understanding what the Diary was ranting about. Only when he noticed the eager glint in the man's eyes, did he shuffle a little. That look didn't bode well for him. And the next thing Marvolo said was:
"Let's do a second experiment. You already proved one, and I believe you will prove the second as well."
"Experiment? What kind of experiment? And when did I prove one?"
"Down in the Chamber," Marvolo waved him off. "But that is not important right now. Just agree to do as I tell you."
Rhian's suspicion grew and he narrowed his eyes at the Diary. "An experiment?" he sneered. "I thought you would help me, not put me through experiments which sound suspiciously like the tests that Dumbledore does!"
Marvolo's eyes flashed and Rhian instantly knew that he had said something very wrong, but he stood his ground. He would not be used by another person; he had enough of being used like a slave.
"Do not compare me to the old fool. I am nothing like Dumbledore," Marvolo hissed, and Rhian, thinking that now was as good a time as any, collected all his bravery and replied innocently: "No, you are not. You are the Dark Lord Voldemort."
"So, Dumbledore did tell you after all," the memory smirked, apparently not ashamed of being caught in hiding important information.
Rhian merely glowered back stubbornly. "Yes, he did. Is it true?"
Marvolo lifted one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows and praised: "At least you question the old fool's trustworthiness. But yes, in this aspect, he has told you the truth."
Forgetting all about his initial question, Rhian asked: "What did he lie about?" he wanted to finally cut a few ropes from the spider web that was the Headmaster's lies.
"A lot of things," Marvolo sneered back. "And I will only be able to tell you more if you do as I tell you for now. I can assure you, it will be to both our benefit. You will have to stop questioning every instruction I give you and sometimes just do as I tell you to do."
They stared at each other for a moment longer, but in the end Rhian sighed and nodded. As strict as Marvolo could probably be (otherwise he wouldn't be a Dark Lord), he trusted the man. Maybe, because Marvolo had not hidden his opinion behind false smiles and empty, nice words so far. The memory at least, Rhian believed, would manipulate him openly, or just order him and so far he had told him more than Dumbledore had ever since meeting him.
His pondering came to an abrupt halt, as Marvolo suddenly spoke again, reminding him of the instruction he just had agreed to. "It is rather simple. Just snap your fingers and call 'Malik'."
"Just snap my fingers and call 'Malik'?" he echoed stupidly, earning himself another glare.
"Yes, and now do as I say or I will start doubting my own theory and I never doubt any of my theories."
Still confused, Rhian complied, and to his shock a strange looking creature appeared soundlessly next to his cot. It had leathery brown skin that was so wrinkled, that it reminded him of an old tree. The creature's ears were enormous, like those of a bat, and it possessed huge, round eyes that glowed slightly in the dark, and a long moustache that reached down to its knees. But the strangest thing was the robe it was wearing. It was of a dark, emerald green, elegantly embroidered material with silver threads at the hems and a small round hat with a silver tassel dangling from it.
"What can Malik be doing for young Master Rhian?" The creature bowed deeply. Blinking, Rhian wondered how the creature knew his name.
"His name is Malik."
Malik, whatever being he was, spun around, surprisingly quickly for his clearly old age and managed to bow even lower.
"My Lord, Malik is delighted to see you once more. He is taking good care of…"
"That's enough." Marvolo interrupted the creature. "We did not call you to listen to your reports about a situation that cannot have improved so far."
"Malik is apologizing. How can Malik be of service?"
Rhian watched the interaction slightly baffled. Was that thing some kind of magical servant? He had already expected that Marvolo must have come from a wealthy family, considering how he talked and moved, but to see it so plainly... Thinking about riches, could it be that "Dark Lord" was something like a royal title in the wizarding world? Dumbledore had never actually explained the term further than that 'Dark Wizards and Witches' obeyed him because he was especially powerful, but it had always sounded as if it had been self appointed.
His questions were piling up, and he had yet to get a single answer, however, he didn't really mind; he would just have to make sure to ask them all. And once he had done so, he would maybe finally understand the wizarding world and what he was supposed to fight for.
Concentrating back on the conversation (or orders) that were still going on next to him, he perked up as he realized what Marvolo's plan was:
"This room has to be warded. Nothing can leak out of here, no magical signature, no sound, no smell. And I want these accommodations to resemble something that is worthy of your Masters staying in. Also, the food is less than satisfactory here; take care of that as well."
"Of course, my Lord," the creature bowed and without warning, the mattress beneath Rhian began shifting. Surprised, he jumped up, just in time to see it fly off into the far right corner of his cupboard, which resembled a cupboard less and less with each passing second. The space was stretching out into all directions. The ceiling was lifting up, until even two men could easily climb onto each other's shoulders and stand comfortably inside of it. The dirty white cleaned out and the floor changed into a rich dark wood. But that was not all. Rhian's eyes widened as furniture seemed to grow out of nowhere. Cupboards and drawers appeared, a comfortable sitting area including a low, dark coffee table. His cot transformed into a gigantic four poster bed with a silver canopy; matching, silver and green carpets fell down onto the floor and even an additional door appeared on the right side, before finally, the walls cracked open, only to let huge windows grow in the freed spaces.
Then, as suddenly as it had started, everything fell quiet again. The little servant, who had been standing in the middle of his new room, hands high in the air, returned to him, bowed and asked: "Can Malik be of any more help before he goes and prepares dinner for young Master?"
"I assume the room is warded against the muggles living in this house," Marvolo's voice asked and it sounded so close that Rhian startled and looked searchingly around. To his surprise the Dark Lord was once again standing next to him, his Diary leisurely tucked under one arm. He must have come out of the notebook as Rhian had been occupied with staring at the impressive show of magic.
"Of course, my Lord. Filthy muggles will feel no need to open cupboard. Young Master will be safe in here; Malik has extended wards of Serpent's Hall." The servant bowed again.
"Then you may leave and prepare the dinner.
As soon as the creature had disappeared, Rhian blurted out: "What was that?"
Marvolo's left eyebrow lifted. "I see the old fool has truly taught you nothing. That was a house elf. They need a close bond to a wizard to access their magic properly and extend their lifespan; therefore you often find them serving old Pureblood families."
"Oh, okay… so this one is…"
"Malik has been serving Slytherin House for many centuries. But, that you have been able to call him, is proof that Dumbledore is hiding more from you than you think."
"How so?" Rhian asked, not understanding and waiting patiently as Marvolo examined him for a long second, before saying: "House elves serve Purebloods. Only Purebloods."
Frowning, Rhian was about to open his mouth when he realized what Marvolo meant. His eyes widened and he quickly reached for the wall to steady himself. Sure, he had suspected that something about his parentage could not be correct, but he had rather thought that it had more to do with his magical core than actual blood relations, mainly because of the Dursley's... his eyes widened even further and he gasped, but his shock quickly changed into rage and he balled his hands into fists.
"Does that mean," he pressed out between clenched teeth "That Dumbledore has put me with some horrible muggles, who are not even related to me?"
Silence hung heavy in the air and Rhian almost thought that Marvolo wouldn't answer him, when the man finally spoke up.
"Correct. However, keep in mind that you have to play your part. Do not let the old fool find out that you know the truth. Knowledge is power, especially knowledge about lies, deceit and secrets. Remember this as well, it is the first rule to the game of Slytherins; keep your friends close but your enemies even closer. Unfortunately, I am only a small part of the Dark Lord, thus, I neither have all his power, nor all his knowledge. I was created from the memories of his twenty five year old self and therefore, I can only go by the lies which the Headmaster told me back then."
Their conversation was interrupted when Malik popped back into the room, trays loaded with food hovering above his head. Rhian's mouth fell open, there were dishes he had never even seen before, let alone tasted. All he knew was toast, baked beans and the occasional can of instant soup, but now the scent of roasted meat, vegetables and spices wafted over to him.
Looking back and forth between the house elf who was setting everything up on his coffee table and Marvolo, he tried to decide if he should rush over or continue with his questions. He wanted to know more about Marvolo and about the lies Dumbledore had tried to feed him so that he would be prepared if the old coot tried something with him again. However, his choice was taken away from him as Marvolo's voice sternly ordered:
"Go and eat. You will need your strength come tomorrow. I will not be a lenient tutor."
"But…" Rhian began, seeing his chance to more answers slipping away from him.
"No buts. We will not continue our conversation this evening. And now go eat and sleep afterwards."
The growling of his stomach was what finally made him decide to just listen to Marvolo for now. That, and the fact that the man had been clear that he would be his tutor, which was something like a mentor. However, something inside of him was telling him that there was more to their relationship, or maybe it was just his hopes speaking up. He knew enough about obedience to know when it was expected of him.
He sat down on the plush carpet in front of the coffee table and for a moment, he could do nothing more than to stare at the variety of food. It was far too much for him, he would never manage to eat it all, but he wanted to at least try a bit of everything, so he began to fill his plate with a spoonful of everything.
There were classical, English dishes, but also ones that smelled very exotic; but then again, the house elf did not seem like something or someone who originated from Great Britain. His logical mind left him then, as his eyes were drawn down to his full plate and he carefully spooned some sort of cereal in a green sauce up. A fresh but also spicy taste exploded on his tongue and he wiggled a little in delight. Whatever kind of dish that was, it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. Quickly, he tried something else, some kind of meat in a fruity, red sauce made from tomatoes; it tasted just as delicious as the grain had done. In fact, every dish was better than he ever had imagined food could possibly be. However, he did not stuff his mouth once. Despite his hunger, or maybe especially because of it, he savored every bite and took his time to enjoy the first proper meal in his life.
When he was finally finished, he felt so full and satisfied that he could have fallen asleep on his carpet, it was softer than his cot ever had been anyway. But one glance over at Marvolo, who was lounging in one of his armchairs, reading some kind of book which the house elf must have brought him (because he himself possessed none), was enough to make him stand up and walk over to his new bed.
"Do you not plan on changing into your pajamas?" Marvolo's voice stopped him as he was about to crawl under the heavy comforter. Blinking, Rhian had to put in a real effort to work through what the Dark Lord wanted from him. His mind felt hazy and relaxed as it had never done before, and the excitement of the day was catching up to him, making his limbs feel heavy and tired.
"Malik should have put a pair into your new wardrobe," Marvolo added and the impatience in his voice finally helped Rhian to realize what the man suggested. Without a word he nodded, walked over, opened the doors of the gigantic cupboard and froze at the sight of the amount of clothes in front of him. The wardrobe had to be magically extended, just like his room, because otherwise he had no idea how that many, soft looking tunics and trousers fit into the space. There were even three pairs of boots at the bottom; one pair was black, one pair brown and the last pair grey.
Amazed, he let his hand brush over a pair of trousers and noticed that it had to be made from some sort of soft leather. Suede leather, he remembered his aunt calling this type of fabric once.
However, a yawn reminded him that he was in fact too tired to try his new clothes on, and he quickly searched for a pair of pajamas. He found a green one on a small shelf to his right, and absentmindedly wondered what the reason for all the green and silver was, as he took the pair from the shelf and walked back to his bed, where he changed.
"Where will you sleep?" he asked, as his eyes once more fell onto Marvolo, who, to his surprise had followed him to his bed. "I am not a living human being. I do not need any sleep," the man answered before, to Rhian's surprise, he bent down and covered him with the blanket. It didn't even register in his mind how odd it should have been to have the Dark Lord tucking him in, all he could think about was how nice that simple gesture felt, how warm and cared for it made him feel.
"Oh...okay…" Rhian replied, feeling a bit awkward and slightly bad to leave the man behind in the armchair, so he added: "If you… want to lie down later… you can climb in beside me… the bed is big enough for both of us..."
Marvolo's eyebrow lifted once more, and Rhian felt a blush rising in his cheeks. Maybe he should not have offered that last part, but then the man shocked him once more, by leaning down a second time and combing once through his hair.
Feeling totally embarrassed all of the sudden, he quickly climbed into bed and pulled the blanket up to his nose. The softness of the mattress, the comforting warmth of the duvet and his exhaustion quickly made him forget his embarrassment, and before he knew it, his body relaxed and he drifted off into a peaceful slumber.
Strangely enough, this time as he fell asleep, the dark haired man of his dreams had a face. It was the face of Marvolo.
"Come here, Rhian!" he called. "Time for dinner and bed afterwards."
"Nooo! I am not tired!" he called and tried to run away. However, strong hands grabbed him around the waist and quickly lifted him up.
"No arguing, daddy still has a lot to do. But if you behave I will tell you the story of Jörmungandr."
"That's my favorite!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms up.
"I know," the man that looked like Marvolo chuckled, before sitting down and dropping him onto his lap.
He started to fumble with the buttons at the front of the elegant, black robe, but his little hands were not yet talented enough. However, the Marvolo doppelganger quickly helped him and soon he was pushing the fabric to the side. Without hesitation he attached himself to one of the man's pale nipples and started suckling. Something warm and soothing flowed into his mouth and he hummed as his body relaxed completely.
An arm came around him as his body slumped tiredly against the strong chest and his eyes closed.
"Now, now, if you fall asleep I will not be able to tell you the story," the wizard's voice sounded soothingly from somewhere above him.
Tired, he shook his head, however, it was of no use, because seconds later his eyes had shut completely and he had fallen asleep.
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False Ties (Prequel to: Family Ties)