Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Family Means More Than Blood	By : WingsofaDream Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 59826 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its associated characters are property of J K Rowling, not me. This story is not being written for profit, just for the lols.

Chapter List
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6th January 1992: Morning

The gentle sound of rain pattering on the windows in the Gryffindor common room did little to soothe Harry or distract him from his thoughts. He, Fred, and George were flopped out around the lit fire, Harry in a chair and Fred and George laying on the floor next to each other, all doing their holiday assignments so, for once, the twins were not trying to distract their friend as they had a Transfiguration essay and a Divination essay due in the very next day which none of them had even started. Despite that fact however, Harry was struggling to concentrate anyway, his mind stuck on thoughts of the Mirror of Erised.

He had not been to see it since the night he had met Dumbledore there; he had not wanted to. What the Mirror showed him scared him and all he wanted to do was forget about it. Unfortunately, his traitorous mind would not stop reminding him of it. Every day since that last time he had thought about what he had seen. It distracted him to the point that he often did not hear people trying to get his attention. Everyone had noticed and they had all asked him what was wrong. As usual, he had simply assured them that he was fine and there was no need to worry. Neither his father nor Draco seemed to believe him in the least but as long as they did not call him on it, Harry was content to allow them that. Yes, it was a set back in his no-more-lying plan but could he really tell the people around him about what he had seen?

Suddenly, the portrait hole opened and the common room was invaded by a whole crowd of students who were returning from their Christmas holidays. They were loud and inconsiderate and totally distracting and prompted a reaction from the three boys by the fire. Harry glanced up from his book and was not in the least surprised to see that Potter was among the crowd, easily being the loudest of them all. He was going on about how wonderful his break had been and Harry thought he heard something about a cloak being mentioned as well.

"Oi, keep it down you lot." Fred ordered, looking up from his textbook.

"Yeah, some of us are trying to write about the delicate though imprecise art of reading tea leaves." George said with a grin, adding a touch of humour to his brother's rather harsh command.

"And not all of us wish to listen to the inane babble of Johnathan Potter." Harry grunted, half talking to himself and half addressing the room.

The room heard him clearly though as all had been silent when he had said it and they all remained silent, not sure what to make of the comment. Predictably, it was Potter who reacted first. He glared over at Harry before moving over to him. "I don't remember anyone asking your opinion, Snape."

"And I didn't ask to hear you bragging about your Christmas holidays but I had to listen to it anyway." The older boy muttered as he looked back down at his book, deciding to try and ignore the boy who now stood in front of him.

"You didn't have to listen."

"You were speaking loud enough for the entire school to hear, it was impossible not to hear everything."

The book on Harry's lap was suddenly sharply knocked off of his knees and landed on the floor with a small thud and he had no choice but to then look up. Shining, emerald green met with dark, chocolate brown and for a few tense moments, neither of them moved or spoke. Then, finally, Potter decided to open his big mouth. "You know, Snape, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous. What's the matter? Couldn't your dad afford to buy you anything on his pitiful teaching wages? That's the great thing about having a great Auror for a dad and being a Potter; you know that you'll always have the money to live a comfortable life."

Harry looked up at the other boy neutrally for a few moments before letting his gaze drop as he got to his feet. He was about a head taller than Potter but the older boy knew that would probably change all too soon; James Potter was rather tall for his age. "My father and I are quite financially secure, thank you, what with my reward for defeating Voldemort still mostly un-touched. But money isn't important to us; we're comfortable enough to not have to show our love through material gains. Now, are you going to be a good little boy and run along?"

Potter merely glared at him angrily

"In that case I'll go." Harry said easily, dipping down to pick his book back up. With it in hand, he shot one last glance at the arrogant First Year before turning and heading towards the stairs which led up to the dormitories.

Harry had only just stepped onto the first step when he heard some scrambling behind him and he did not need to look to know that it was Fred and George quickly gathering their stuff to join him. They did not have to follow him but it was nice to know that they wanted to. They joined him quickly and less than a minute later they were inside their room, Harry heading straight over to his bed and collapsing onto his back on it.

"Arrogant little snot." He muttered under his breath as his right arm came to cover his forehead.

"That kid needs to be put in his place." George agreed, slinging his school things on his bed, obviously now not bothered to carry on with his work.

"I say we get something especially for him when we next go into Hogsmead." Fred suggested.

"He's not worth it." Harry disagreed. "And it wouldn't do anything; he'd see it as a challenge and he'd have the help of his godfather; my father's told me many a story about Sirius Black."

A knock at their door came suddenly and before any of them could tell whoever it was they could come in, the door cracked open and Ron poked his head around. "I, uh, I just wanted to make sure you're okay?" He said, looking over to Harry.

Harry gave the youngest Weasley male a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it takes more than the immature jabs of your little friend to upset me, Ron."

The First Year seemed unsure what to say to that so he just gave a small nod before pulling back and then pulling the door closed again.

Harry released a small sigh before a rather wicked grin spread across his face. "Perhaps a few detentions with Finch are in need for young Mr Potter."

"Leave it to us." George said with a grin of his own.

"Blaise Zabini owes us a favour anyway." Fred added, his own grin matching his twin's exactly.

"Blaise Zabini? How on earth did you manage to earn a favour from Blaise Zabini?"

"Let's just say we found out something..."

"...That he doesn't want his family to know."

"So when you say he owes you a favour, what you really mean is that you're going to blackmail him?"

"If you want to be picky about it..."

"Then yeah."

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7th January 1992: Afternoon

Harry sighed very lightly as stared down at the piece of parchment resting on the table in front of him. It should have been filled with notes and the such but in actuality, it was completely blank. Not because he was uninterested in what High Priest Sephiran was teaching him, far from it; exorcism and the purification of a space to make it holy was a fascinating subject, he just could not manage to concentrate. He wanted to ask his teacher something but he was scared to: he was scared of actually asking; he was scared of what the Elvish man would think of him; he was scared of what sort of answer he would get.

"I understand that this may not be the most entertaining of lessons, Haryon, but I didn't think it was that bad." Sephiran's voice suddenly interrupted Harry's thoughts and he looked up to see that the man was standing right beside his desk, kneeling down so that he was a little shorter than Harry's height sitting down.

"Oh, no, it's not that High Priest! I'm just...I guess I'm just a little distracted today."

"I see. In that case, is there anything you wish to discuss with me? To teach such complicated practices is useless if you're only half paying attention."

"I really am sorry..."

"No, no, do not apologise, there's no need. If you wish to show your remorse, allow me to help you so that we can resume our lesson sooner rather than later."

"I was just...Well, I guess...Erm..." Harry stumbled over what to say, not sure where to begin. "I...I was wondering about the Vow of Pacifism."

"And what about it?"

"A couple of things really. How far can you actually go before you've officially broken it, what are the consequences of breaking it, and are there ever any exceptions?"

Sephiran seemed unphased by the questions and appeared to be putting a lot of thought into his answers. "Well, the Vow is officially broken with even the barest hint of violence towards yourself or another. The consequences of breaking the Vow and, indeed, the exceptions, both very much depend on the situation. Acts of self-defense are pardoned by our Great Lady for obvious reasons as is self-harm, especially when coupled with an actual problem such as depression. Acts of petty violence can be rectified through prayer as long as you're truly sorry for your actions. More serious acts of violence: breaking bones; using weapons; rape; murder, those are harder for our Great Lady to forgive, especially if carried out by a member of her clergy. I don't believe there is a record of a Priest or Priestess doing anything like that in cold blood so no one can be certain when the punishment would be. I should think that if it did happen, it would probably result in an expulsion from the Priesthood and therefore a loss of any chance of making it to the Eternal Meadow."

"I see."

"Haryon, why have you asked me this?"

"Have you heard of the Mirror of Erised?" The boy asked quietly, receiving a nod in confirmation from his teacher. "It's here at Hogwarts; I found it on the evening of Christmas Day. It showed me...It showed me myself, killing Voldemort in a rather...Torturing way."

"And you are worried about what this implies?" The Elf guessed though he phrased it as a question.

"Yes, High Priest."

"Haryon, I have known you for a very long time. I have watched you learn, I've watched you grow. I've seen you making friends so easily and I've seen you deal with bullies, in all shapes and sizes, swiftly, confidently and, most importantly, peacefully. I can tell you in all honesty, Haryon, you are the last person I would ever suspect in a murder case even if all evidence pointed towards you. You are not a boy to hurt anyone, even in self-defense."

"But the Mirror..." Harry began to argue.

"Have you ever considered the possibility that what you saw in the Mirror should not be taken at face value? When you think of Voldemort, what is the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"Evil."

"Exactly, and it is because of that very reason that I don't believe that the Mirror of Erised was showing you a deep down desire to hack Voldemort to pieces."

Harry shook his head slightly and frowned. "I don't understand."

"I believe that you subconsciously see Voldemort not as a person, but more of an ideal, as a personification of evil and death. The Mirror could very well have been showing you your desire to protect the ones you love the most from suffering. Everyone you care about and hold dear to you has been affected by the Dark Lord in some way and you care so much for everyone in this world; the Mirror was simply visualising your desire to keep your family and the rest of the world safe, to rid us all of evil."

The teenager looked at his teacher carefully for several moments, not completely sure what to make of what he had just been told. It was not what he had expected to hear, far from it, and it confused him greatly. Was it a possibility? It had never occurred to him that the Mirror of Erised could show symbolic images but it did make some sort of sense; after all, what if someone desired something abstract like world peace? When thought about like that, it was very easy to believe that what he had seen had meant to have been symbolic rather than literal. And that was a comforting thought. With that, he could easily make himself believe that he did not really have a terrible, violent side to himself, it had merely been a symbolic image to express his desire to keep everyone he loved safe and that wasn't bad in the least.

"Thank you, High Priest." Harry said eventually, a bright smile lighting up his face as his previous worry melted away from him now that he had the reassurance of someone who not only knew what he was talking about but was also someone who he respected greatly.

"You are most welcome, Young Haryon." Sephiran smiled back just as the door to the Headmaster's office opened to reveal none other than the Headmaster himself.

"I'm sorry that I have to interrupt your lesson, Harry and Sephiran, but I'm afraid I have some rather urgent business which requires my immediate attention." The elderly man said as he moved into the room in a manner which was anything by rushed.

"Think nothing of it, Headmaster, we were just about finished for the day anyway." The High Priest assured as he stood up straight just as Harry began to put his things away in his bag.

"Splendid then." Dumbledore smiled, coming to a stop beside Harry's small desk. "What is it you were looking at today, Harry?"

"Exorcism mainly, Sir." Harry answered as he continued to pack his bag and therefore totally missing the odd, knowing look which was shared between Dumbledore and Sephiran.

"We'll be continuing with it in our next lesson if you're interested in sitting in Headmaster."

"Maybe, maybe, if the chores of running a school allow me the time."

Harry finally got out of his seat, his bag all packed and slung over his right-hand shoulder.

"I'll see you next week then, Haryon." Sephiran said to him with a smile.

"Alright." Harry said with a nod. "Good afternoon, High Priest, good afternoon, Professor Dumbledore." He bid before turning and heading out of the room.

"Good afternoon, my dear boy." Dumbledore's voice called out after him as he left the room, shutting the door quietly behind himself.

It was only when Harry was long gone from the Headmaster's office and well on his way to reaching Gryffindor Tower that something occurred to him; Professor Dumbledore had said that there were important matters that he had to deal with right away, and yet High Priest Sephiran had lingered behind.

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10th February 1992: Afternoon

"Ooo, bubble powder!" Fred said excitedly as he pulled a box off of the shelf that he was looking at inside Zonko's. George was through the crowds and at his side in an instant where as Harry had already been at his side. He did not really have enough interest in what was around to go off looking at things on his own and the shop was really too crowded anyway; too easy to get separated.

"Oh, we have to use this on Percy!" George giggled gleefully.

"What does it do?" Harry asked, trying to peer at the box to see if it was written there.

"You mix it with a liquid and when someone drinks it they hiccup bubbles for about an hour."

"How much is it?" George wondered out-loud as he took the box from his brother to look for a price. "Ooo, bit much."

"You do get twenty sachets though. Please, can we get some? Please?" He pleaded with his twin, resting his head on the other red-head's shoulder and looking up at him with wide eyes. They would need to pull their money together if they were going to be able to afford a box.

"But we still have to go to Honeydukes."

"I don't mind lending you some money." Harry spoke up, making sure to say "lending" and not "giving"; although it rarely came up, the Weasley twins had somewhat of a raw nerve when it came to money issues.

"Really? You wouldn't mind?" Fred checked.

"We could probably pay you back next month when Mum sends us our monthly pocket money." George assured as if he was trying to persuade Harry to lend them some money rather than the other boy having already offered.

"Sure, whenever's good for you."

"Wicked."

"We'll buy this then and we'll sort out the money when we get to Honeydukes." Fred planned.

"Sure thing." Harry agreed before glancing around himself. "I'm gonna go wait outside; it's a bit too crowded in here for me."

"See you in a minute or two then." Fred told him before he was pulled into the crowd by George.

Harry carefully made his way out of the shop, apologising to anyone he bumped into even if it had not actually been his fault. When he finally managed to make it out of the door, the cold air of outside hit him immediately, cooling any patch of bare skin instantly. A shiver shook his body and he quickly fished his gloves out of one of the pockets of his robes where he had left them upon entering Zonko's. He managed to get them on pretty quickly and then wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his cloak closer to his body in an attempt to retain more of his body heat.

Feeling lazy, Harry slouched back against the wall of Zonko's and began waiting for his two friends to come out. He tilted his head back slightly and peered up at the cloudy, miserable looking sky. The weather was still rather wet and drizzly but it was not raining at the particular moment. It was cold though, hence the need for the gloves and the thick winter cloak. Harry did not mind though, he quite liked winter.

There were Hogwarts students absolutely everywhere you looked, the younger ones rushing about, hyper from their excitement, and the older ones strolling along in a much more sedate manner, quite a few of them holding hands with someone else, no doubt on dates. If you looked carefully, you could also catch a glimpse of a teacher milling around every so often as well. Harry was not sure if they were actually supposed to be there to chaperon them all or whether they were simply there to enjoy the moment of free time just as the students did. He supposed it hardly mattered whether they were there to look after the students or not; if something did happen, a teacher was not going to turn around and say it was not their problem.

A sudden burning began to radiate from Harry's scar abruptly, making all his thoughts stop in an instant. Without thinking why, his head snapped to the right and, a few feet away, there was Professor Quirrel. That was when the burn increased into a pain and a small gasp escaped the teenager's lips as he legs buckled beneath him and his hands flew up to his head. His eyes stayed on Professor Quirrel though as his mind began to quickly reason everything out.

Last time this had happened, right at the beginning of the school year, it had been when he had looked the latest DADA professor in the eye and this time it was the same. Was it coincidence? Surely such a strange and sudden affect could not be a mere coincidence. And it obviously affected the man as well because his eyes had noticeably widened and he looked suddenly scared. Within a few seconds, which felt like hours, they both looked away from each other at the same time. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the professor hurry away, a hand clutched against his forehead, as he, himself, struggled to not fall to his knees.

It made no sense. Why did looking Professor Quirrel in the eye effect them both so much? Harry suddenly realised that the professor always seemed reluctant to look at him, never looking straight at him when asking a question in class or when Harry gave him an answer. Could this be why? Was Quirrel aware of it too? That would explain why the man seemed to be so nervous around him but it still did not explain why it was happening.

"Harry!"

Suddenly, Harry felt arms come around him and he was hoisted back onto his feet properly. He opened his eyes to find Fred and George now either side of him, gazing at him with concern shining in their eyes.

"What's wrong?" Harry was pretty sure that was Fred who just spoke.

"Nothing, it's nothing, just a bit of a headache." He assured his two friends, trying to pull away and stand on his own.

"Just a bit of a headache?" George echoed sceptically. "If just a bit of a headache makes you look like that, I dread to think what a full on one would do to you."

"Honestly, I'm fine, it was nothing."

"Maybe we should take him back to Hogwarts?" Fred said to his brother, totally ignoring what Harry had just said.

"I said I'm fine!" Harry insisted, succeeding in breaking out of the hold of the twins, effectively drawing their full attention to him again. "Look, you see, nothing's wrong. Now, let's go to Honeydukes yeah? I promised you both some sweets and I'm sticking to it."

"Are you sure you're up for it?" George checked carefully, his eyes flickering over Harry's body as though the cause for the boy's headache was going to be obvious and somewhere on him.

"Positive."

"All right then." Fred sighed. "You tell us the second you feel ill again though."

"Of course."

"Fine, c'mon then." Fred instructed with an inclination of his head. George and Harry shared a very brief look before coming up to either side of Fred. Like that, they started forward, on their way to Honeydukes.

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25th March 1992: Midday

It was a strange sight, a very strange sight. Almost everyone in the History of Magic lesson which was currently being held were all paying complete attention to what Professor Binns was saying. It really was the most extraordinary thing! The reason for it was actually quite simple though; today was the day that the Third Years got to use blood-line parchment to trace back their family history. That was also the reason why three boys in the class were bored out of their mind.

"I don't see why we have to be in here." Fred muttered to his twin brother and Harry quietly from where they were sitting near the back in a corner. "We've already got two of these at home from when Charlie and Percy did 'em the first year they were legal. There's no point in us doing them, they'll be exactly the same as the other two!"

"Yeah, should've given us the lesson off really." George agreed through a small yawn which he covered with his hand.

"Nah, they'd just stick us in some other classroom and make us do work; that's what my father offered me anyway. It's better to be in here and be able to chat quietly." Harry murmured back from where he was half slumped over the desk.

"At least they're not making you do it."

"Yeah, we're going to have to suffer needlessly here. Pricking our poor fingers and then writing a pointless essay of stuff we already know." George grumbled and Harry could not hold his grin back.

This lesson had brought back up the issue which first came about in the summer of Harry's eleventh birthday: did he want to know who his biological family were? And the answer was unchanged since all those years ago. He did not want to know them, he did not even want to know of them. Why should he? After all, they did not want to know him. They left him in an alleyway when he was a few hours old, they did not even give him a chance. That was fine though because his life was so much better with his father and his godfather and Draco.

Was he curious about his ancestors? He could not deny that he was, just a little, but it was nothing desperate and definitely not enough to justify up-heaving his life and the life of his family. No, Harry knew who he was and he had a family. He was completely happy with things the way they were.

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26th May 1992: Night

It was dark. It was silent. It was warm. It was so damn, bloody boring!

Harry released an annoyed huff as he flung himself onto his back to glare up at the dark canopy above his bed. He could not sleep and he did not know why. He was just tossing and turning and getting frustrated and over-heated. Oh yeah, and bored; bored out of his mind.

Another annoyed huff later and Harry was sitting up in his bed and kicking his sheets and duvet off of him. He did not care what time it was or how much trouble he might get into if he was caught, he was going down to the kitchen for a glass of water. He refused to stay in his bed any longer and he was restless, he needed to move around, stretch his legs, tire himself out.

Sliding off of his bed and grabbing his glasses as he did so, Harry trudged over to his trunk and lifted the top before getting onto his knees and starting to rummage around inside it in search for the Marauder's Map which was buried somewhere underneath his clothes and school books. Although the Map was technically Fred and George's as they were the ones that had found it, they made Harry keep it in his trunk just in case their's was ever searched for some reason. Harry, hardly even getting in trouble, was the least suspicious of the three of them and so, common sense said, was the least likely to be accused of something and searched because of it. As payment, they had given him permission to use it any time he wanted, something which came in very handy the year before when he was talking to his snake chums who he had since stopped seeing since the whole bite incident.

Harry eventually found the bare piece of worn parchment half sticking out of his Care of Magical Creatures book which was odd as he did not remember leaving it anywhere near the book. He figured the twins must have had it out at some point since he last checked; they did have his permission to go into his trunk without his direct say so just as long they were only going in there for the Map and not to just have a nose. As far as he was concerned, the twins had been nothing but respectful of that.

He closed the trunk again after he had pulled out the piece of parchment and his wand which he kept in his trunk when it was not in the pocket of his school robe. After turning the Map the right way up, he laid it on the top of his trunk and smoothed it out a couple of time. Then, he raised his wand a little. "Lumos." He whispered with a small flick of his wrist and a soft silver glow instantly lit the tip of his wand. He brought it down to point at the map in front of him, lightly rested on the parchment. "I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good." Slowly, the image of Hogwarts seeped through the parchment.

He glanced over it all briefly, his gaze stopping abruptly when it came to rest on the three names which were currently in the common room apparently: Hermione Granger; Ron Weasley and Johnathan Potter. A slight frown made its way onto Harry's face. What were those three doing down in the common room at this time of night?

Well, with Potter there, he doubted he would be able to get out of the common room in order to go to the kitchens. He just knew the brat would not hesitate to tell Professor McGonagall that he was up and about after curfew and come up with a suitable excuse as to why he was up as well. But that did not mean he could not be nosey and listen in to what they were saying. He might even learn something he could pass on to Fred and George; he might not be allowed to do anything to Potter but he had nothing against Fred and George doing something to him.

Slowly and carefully so as not to wake up anyone else in the room, Harry snuffed out the light on the tip of his wand with a whispered "Nox" before moving across the room and leaving it silently. There was a faint, orange glow coming up the stairs, no doubt from the common room, so he could see where he was going and was not going to run the risk of missing a steps and falling the rest of the way down the stairs. He padded down the stairs with bare feet at a fair pace and so it was not too long before he heard Potter's voice coming up from the room below:

"...But he's weak, he's living off the unicorns and their blood." The boy finished saying as Harry came to a stop several steps away from the end of the stairs. He pressed himself up against the wall just in case one of them turned in his direction. In his new position, he would not be easily spotted; he may not even be visible to the three First Years from where they were sitting.

"And you're sure it was Voldemort?" Hermione asked and Harry's eyes grew wide suddenly; Potter had met Voldemort? Voldemort was around for Potter to meet?

"That's what the Centaur told me and if anyone would know I'd think he would."

"Yes, Centaurs are very intelligent." Hermione's voice murmured and did nothing for Harry confidence in this situation. If a Centaur had told Potter that he had met Voldemort then surely the boy had, indeed, met Voldemort. But how could the man be back? He had died...Had he not?

"That must be why Snape's trying to get the Philosopher's Stone; he's stealing it for Voldemort." Potter told his two friends and Harry frowned, partly at the information on the Philosopher's Stone and partly because of the insult towards his father; he thought the three of them had given up on accusing his father of such ridiculous things after that time he yelled at them after his first Quidditch match. "With the Stone, Voldemort will have access to the Elixir of Life. He'll...He'll come back." The sound of someone sitting down heavily came then along with a short pause.

"If he does come back, you don't think he'll try..." Ron hesitated nervously. "You don't think he'll try and kill you, do you?"

"I think he would've killed me tonight if he had got the chance." Potter replied seriously and Harry had to fight to hold in his snort; yeah, that brat wished that Voldemort was interested enough in him to want to kill him in particular.

"Bloody hell; and to think, I've been worried about my Potions final."

"Hold on a second," Hermione put in, sounding her usual authoritarian self. "We're forgetting something here." A pause. "John, who's the one wizard who the Dark Lord's always been afraid of?" Another pause. "Dumbledore!" She told them, her tone more than a little exasperated. "As long as Dumbledore's here, the Dark Lord can't even hope of getting inside Hogwarts's walls. As long as Dumbledore's here John, you can't be touched."

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head. This was a perfect example of pre-teens getting ideas above their station. Voldemort after them indeed! Who did they think they were exactly? They put far too much importance in themselves. And why did they even want Voldemort to be after them? It was not exactly fun! And he would know, it had happened to him after all. But there was a question niggling at the back of his mind now; now that Voldemort was apparently back somehow, was he going to try and come for him again?

Suddenly, Harry no longer felt any desire to have a walk about the school on his own. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend he did not exist.
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Family Means More Than Blood