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Bearing the Light	By : Vergnugen Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 4938 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Bearing the Light
- 2-1
- 3-2
- 4-3
- 5-4
- 6-5
- 2
- 3
- 4
�Hogwarts dear?� Madam Malkin asked. Madam Malkin, as it turned out, was a plump little witch with a friendly smile, who was dressed all in mauve.

�Got the lot here- another young man being fitted up just now, in fact.� The woman led him toward the back of the shop. Standing on a low stool was pale boy with a pointed face that -smiled sweetly at him the second the Instructor left the Cell they would be Sharing. A graceful hand gestured him closer in invitation and the Expendable took a hesitant step deeper into- Madam Malkin�s Robes for All Occasions.

Harry blinked. He wasn�t in a Cell. Green eyes darted frantically around the room, legs threatening to buckle. Hanging curtains covering the entry way to changing rooms, bright swaths of material littering the work table against the far wall and a couple of stools for hemming. One of the stools was occupied by a boy that Harry refused to look at directly again.

Taking a deep breath, he cast his eyes toward the ground, trusting his memory of the small shop to keep him from running into anything as he followed the seamstress over to the free stool. A long robe was slipped over his head and he stood quietly, accepting the attention as necessary. He didn�t like being under anyone�s scrutiny for a long time, but he realized that she was just doing her job when she began to pin the robe up to proper length. Still, the skin between his shoulder blades itched at the feeling of exposure.

�Hello,� the pale boy spoke. �Hogwarts too?�

Harry closed his eyes briefly. �Yes.�

�My father�s next door buying my books and mother�s up the street looking at wands. -And if you don�t do as they say then they will kill you.� He had a bored drawling voice that sent chills down Harry�s spine. �You can�t be nice. That�s why we�re still Expendable- Have you got your own broom?�

Broom? Having been caught in his own memories he had missed most of what the other boy had been saying. Why would he need a broom?

�No.�

�Play Quidditch at all?�

Quidditch? That sounded like some sort of nasty tasting vegetable; except the boy asked him if he played it. Maybe it was some sort of instrument. He had a sudden image in his head of a twisting horn with strings stretched between the twists of brass. You could pluck strings with one hand and press keys with the other, plucking and blowing all at once. His lips twitched slightly at the Dr. Suess-esque instrument his mind had conjured up. Maybe you had to balance on top of a broom while you played? Or maybe it was a good thing he rarely gave his imagination free reign.

�No.�

�I do. Father says it�s a crime if I don�t get picked to play for my house, and I must say that I agree. Know what house you�ll be?�

�No.�

�Well no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I�ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been-imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I�d leave wouldn�t you?�

�Mmm,� Harry said, wishing the other boy would stop talking to him.

�I say, look at that man!� the boy said nodding to the window. Hagrid stood outside with two dripping cones and a grin, showing why he couldn�t come inside.

�That�s Hagrid. He works at Hogwarts.�

�Oh. I�ve heard of him,� the other boy said. �He�s a sort of a servant isn�t he?�

�He�s the gamekeeper,� Harry corrected absently.

�Yes, exactly. I heard he�s a sort of savage-lives in a hut on the school grounds, and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.�

Hagrid wasn�t a Student. Why was the boy trying to Assert himself over an Adult, especially one that had no Influence over him?

Looking at his wild hair and animal skin trench coat, Harry could see why the boy would think that Hagrid was something of a savage in the sea of soft cloaks and more refined features of passing witches and wizards. But Hagrid had stood up to the Dursleys for Harry, had been nothing but kind to him. That sort of act demanded that you pay it back in kind.

�I think he�s brilliant,� he responded coldly.

�Do you?� the boy gave a slight sneer. �Why is he with you? Where are your parents?�

�They�re dead,� he answered shortly.

�Oh, sorry,� the other boy didn�t sound sorry at all. �But they were our kind weren�t they?�

�They were a witch and a wizard, if that�s what you mean.� And no one had ever felt the need to tell him this. A fresh wave of bitterness surged at the thought. He didn�t feel the need to go into the subject with this strange boy who wasn�t his old friend no matter what he looked or sounded like. He was talking about not letting the other sort in, or some nonsense like that. It sounded like he considered himself at least an A-class amongst the Students of this Hogwarts already without ever having even attended.

How peculiar.

�That�s you done my dear.� The plump little witch interrupted.

He was grateful for the excuse to leave. Names were a powerful thing, a right to be earned and he had no desire to share his surname with the strange boy. He hopped down from the stool without answering the question.

�Well see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,� said the drawling boy.

Harry stepped outside to join the waiting Hagrid and together they proceeded to buy all of the things on the list, with Harry asking questions now and again. His eyes were taking in everything and he was making a mental list of all the things that he would need to understand if he were going to be expected to participate in this world. He wasn�t sure why he was even going to be agreeing to attend this Hogwarts place except that Hagrid seemed nicer than his relatives and the thought of his going was really pissing them off.

One of the most important things he would need to focus on was the hierarchy of the place, he decided. Apparently Names were important among these people, if that horrifying experience he�d had at the Leaky Cauldron where everyone had crowded around him when they found out he was �Harry Potter� was anything to go by. The boy in the shop also seemed interested in his name, and proud of his own. So, names of course were something he was going to have focus on learning about. Next would be to find out more about these Houses of Hogwarts. Hagrid had made it abundantly clear what he thought about the House of Slytherin, citing Voldemort as his prime example. But that boy had been very proud of the thought of joining Slytherin. He would need to learn more about that as well.

Harry followed Hagrid into the wand shop, careful not to jostle his new pet owl. This was the part that he was curious about� and dreading the most. He wasn�t sure that he would be allowed to have a wand, if he would be able to cast any spells. He still held a very vivid image of the last Student who had failed to live up to the expectations of the Institute.

One of the Chosen had returned after a Hunt for a Werewolf, Infected. A bite didn�t necessarily mean that you would Turn, but he had begun to Turn after being brought back to the Institute. The Instructors hadn�t even bothered to kill him. The command to Die rather than Turn was planted before ever going on a Hunt, and his own body shut down before the Turning was complete. The image was sharp in his brain. The older boy had collapsed, shaking, blood pouring out of his nose and mouth, even after his body had jerked to a stop.

If Vampires and Werewolves were Hunted by Students for Practice then where did being a Wizard put him in the Vision of the Institute? Hopefully since B-classes never went on Hunts, he didn�t have any orders to Die embedded in his mind, but he couldn�t be sure. If his casting spells pushed against the commands immmands implanted in his brain then he could overload his mind, and collapse into a seizure that would kill him. Nervously he took the wand that the old man, Ollivander held out to him, and swished it at his instruction. No magic. He allowed himself to breathe again. There was another wand, and another thrust into his hand until a small pile overflowed from a chair. Finally Ollivander went to the back of his shop and came back with another wand in a box.

�I wonder��

Harry dutifully waved the wand around, startled when red sparks shot from the tip and tiny spots of light danced on walls of the shop. Hagrid cheered. Ollivander seemed relieved that he finally had a wand that suited him. Harry was just relieved he hadn�t dropped dead on the spot.

�Curious. How very curious.� The peculiar man with the misty silver eyes was placing the wand back in it�s wrappings in the small box. �Curious� Curious.�

That was not a good sign, Harry decided.

�Sorry, but what�s curious.� He waited patiently while the man rambled about how he remembered every single wand that was ever sold, and how the phoenix that gave the feather for this wand had only ever given one other feather, that was in the wand that had given him his scar.

So, the evil wizard, this Voldemort who had killed his parents and tried to kill him had the twin of his new wand. Yes that was curious indeed. Harry didn�t care that the old man felt that many thing Voldemort did were great and terrible. And he wasn�t overly excited about the prospect of doing great things himself. That would just draw unwanted attention to him and he couldn�t hide in the shadows if he had everyone�s attention. He was not happy with the man�s prediction that he would do great things. In his experience greatness was quickly followed by death.

They left the Wizarding World soon after that and Harry found himself being returned to the Dursleys. He had a ticket to Platform nine and three quarters, and a month to go before school began. It was going to be a very long month since his family was doing their very best to ignore that he even existed. He preferred their lack of attention but he wasn�t quite sure how to go about getting more information that he felt he needed.

He had his school books memorized within his first week and was beginning to practice with some of the spells themselves. So far he had mastered turning a toothpick into a needle, and could levitate small objects. As an addendum to this skill he was learning how to shrink and enlarge things so that he could then levitate them and return them to normal. He had nearly collapsed after trying to raise and hold his bed in the air, and so had decided to limit himself to smaller objects and work himself up to heavy ones.

Magical theory looked interesting, but he�d have to wait until school began to get any questions he had on the subject answered. Likewise with the potions. He didn�t really know what caused certain ingredients to interact and wasn�t something he was willing to try without supervision until he was comfortable with unstable compounds.

He also found that he enjoyed the history of Magic textbook, although he was very dubious about the importance of goblin wars in the magical world. The impact of magical creatures blithely embarking on a war of mutual extinction on wizards was never explained to his satisfaction. He decided to counter the magical history with muggle history of magic and checked out some books from the local library.

Even with his Training some of the tortures described for �witches� in the muggle history books made him wince. After reading those books, he was inclined to agree with the wizarding decision not to reveal the Wizarding World to the Muggles. In fact after the first couple, he stopped reading the books period. He had enough violent images in his head without adding more.

And finally the day to leave for Hogwarts arrived. With his trunk in one hand and Hedwig, as he had named his lovely owl, in the other he walked into the King�s Cross Station. He ignored his family�s teasing about finding the right platform to leave by, and waited until they had driven off before gathering himself to wander closer to study the area between platforms nine and ten. He stared at the platforms; sure that there was some reason platform nine and three quarters was missing. It had to be like the Leaky Cauldron where no one else noticed the opening. All he had to do was find a clue that would let him see what was hidden.

�-packed with Muggles of course-�

Harry raised his brows. For a society that was trying to hide its existence its members weren�t very discreet.

He glanced around searching for the owner of the voice and found it in a family of red heads. It seemed that the mother was herding her gaggle of children- five; the plump woman was ambitious- toward the platform nine and three quarters. Gripping the handle of the cart with his luggage more firmly he pushed closer to observe the family. Two of the boys, twins he surmised, disappeared, but as people had walked between them at the moment they had done whatever it was to get to the platform, he still wasn't sure how to get to get there himself. It made him feel better that he was right about it being something special, but he was somewhat nervous at the thought of missing his ride and showing back up with the Dursleys. He�d never get his questions answered if he continued living with them.

Another boy disappeared. There really wasn�t another choice at this point.

�Excuse me,� he addressed the mother.

�Hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts?� At Harry�s nod she smiled and pointed to her last son, �Ron�s new, too.�

The boy she gestured to was tall and gangly with bright red hair and freckles all over his face. The girl at the woman�s side also had the family�s apparently trademark flaming red hair and freckles peppering her nose. She was only slightly smaller than Harry was himself and she was regarding him with intense brown eyes. Harry switched his attention back to the woman, uncomfortable with the girl�s staring.

�Yes. The thing is- the thing is, I don�t know how to-�

�How to get on the platform?� she asked kindly. The woman explained to him how he needed to walk at the barrier between platforms nine and ten, but not to stop, and not to worry that you were going to crash. She emphasized that it was very important not to worry about crashing. Harry was tempted to ask what would happen if you stopped, but he imagined the answer was quite messy. The woman offered to let him go before her own son, and nervously he accepted, suggesting that he run if he were nervous.

Looking at the barrier all logic screamed at him not to run into the very solid brick wall. He took a deep breath. This was magic, not logic. Perhaps there was logic to magic, but surely the rules that governed magic were not the same as the rules that governed the world that he was used to. And the woman was from the world he was going to be entering; she had no reason to lie. He glanced back nervously before returning his attention to the barrier. It was weird to use logic about the illogical to convince his own mind that it was logical to hurtle himself against a brick wall, but he had a feeling that he was going to be having several of these arguments with himself.

Taking a deep breath he pushed his cart until he was running, and closing his eyes before the crash- except he didn�t crash. He opened his eyes in wonder at the large scarlet steam engine. People in cloaks and robes flooded the area around the platform for loading onto the train. It was just like that day at Diagon Alley. But a glance at the clock showed that the train was leaving soon and he�d need to get a spot before the train filled up.

Eyes sweeping the crowd he took in everything he walked past, the cats scattered through the throng, owl in cages and flying overhead. Next to him a round faced boy was speaking to an old woman in a green dress with a vulture hat and a large red handbag.

�Gran, I�ve lost my toad again.�

�Oh Neville,� the woman sighed.

Harry found his lips quirking at the scene. Father along was a small knot of people gathered around a tall black boy with dreadlocks. He was holding a box with a lid he was removing, causing squeals and an almost perfectly synchronized wave away from the boy as people instinctively moved back from what was in the box. Seeing a long hairy leg creeping over the side, he mentally categorized the furry appendage as belonging to a type of tarantula; unless it was some sort of magical creature that he wasn�t familiar with yet.

Eventually he found a compartment near the end of the train. He set Hedwig inside first then came back for his things. Staring at his too large trunk thoughtfully he decided there was nothing for it. He could use wingardium leviosa and seem suspicious for carrying a trunk that was obviously too heavy to lift without magic. Perhaps a compromise was in order. He could lug the stupid trunk onto the train and once he was shielded from view he could cast the reduction charm without anyone being the wiser.

He heaved the heavy trunk toward the steps, huffing at how heavy it was. Only his quick reflexes saved him from dropping it on his toes when he lost his grip- twice. He managed to get the end of the trunk on the top stairs and was debating whether or not he could justify that as having met his own deal. A quick glance around to make sure that everyone else was too occupied with their own activities, he was about to take out his wand and cast a reduction charm on his trunk when the one of the red headed boys the woman who had helped him earlier came up.

�Want a hand?�

�Yes, please,� he panted.

�Oy Fred! C�mere and help!� the boy called and his twin came over to help him lug it up the stairs and shunt it into the compartment corner.

�Thanks,� Harry said, pushing his sweaty hair from his eyes. He needed a haircut that wouldn�t defy all laws of fashion that hopefully his own magic wouldn�t replace immediately with his regular one. He�d lost count of how many haircuts the Dursleys had subjected him to, but they always chose the same fashion. The haircut was probably created by someone with a smaller mental capacity than a flea, someone who obviously couldn�t help the stupidity that was conducted with their scissors. The fact that the Dursleys would pay to get the haircut was an obvious comment on their own mental capacity, in Harry�s humble opinion.

�What�s that?� one of the twins said suddenly, pointing at his forehead. Fred if he remembered correctly. The boy had walked up to the left of his twin, had taken the low end of his trunk and when they had turned around after depositing it had ended up on his twin, George�s right. He stared between the two boys now that they were standing side by side.

�Blimey!� said George. �Are you-?�

George�s face was just the slightest bit rounder than his twin�s face. And there was the faintest scar on Fred�s cheek. It was barely visible beneath the freckles, right below his left eye.

�He is,� said Fred. �Aren�t you?� he added this to Harry.

�Harry Potter,� the answered in perfect, and freaky twin unison.

�Oh him,� Harry said. �I mean, yes, I am.� Harry blushed, embarrassed by his confused sounding answer. The two stared at him, and he began to fidget under their amazed looks. Finally they were pulled from their staring by their mother�s voice.

�Fred, George, are you there?�

�Coming, Mom!� The two cast a final look at Harry before trooping off to answer their mother�s summons. Harry took the time to pat his hair down in place, unwilling to have his scar showing if that was the response he was going to get every time someone saw it. He settled back into his seat, watching the family interact, and their mother defending him, telling them not to pester him.

Eventually the boy the woman had pointed out as her youngest son came to the door of his compartment and asked if he could sit there. The twins came back and introduced themselves more formally, telling him what he already knew. Then they were introducing their little brother, Ron Weasley as he turned out to be. With a cheerful goodbye they left to join their friend, Lee Jordan, who was farther down the train with a giant tarantula. Harry�s lips twitched at that, remembering the crowd from earlier.

Once they were gone, Ron turned to him awkwardly. �Are you really Harry Potter?�

�Yes.� Who else was he supposed to be?

�And have you really got- you know�� He pointed at Harry�s forehead.

He was going to have to track down this Voldemort guy and kill him for the inconvenience he was causing him. Well, that and murdering his parents and nearly murdering him. Mostly for the annoyance he was beginning to realize the stupid scar on his head was going to bring though. Refraining from rolling his eyes he lifted his bangs to show the curious child his scar.

�So that�s where You-Know-Who-
?�

�Yes, but I can�t remember it.�

�Nothing?� the boy asked eagerly.

�Well- I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else.� Except for a woman�s screams, but that wasn�t something he was willing to share.

�Wow.� Ron stared at him for a while longer, before he seemed to realize how rude he was being and looked away. Harry was perfectly content to sit in silence for the rest of the trip but the red head boy didn�t seem to have very much control over his mouth just yet. He was obviously warring with himself over whether or not he should ask any more questions, and Harry didn�t want to deal with that. With that he decided to open up the conversation again, hopefully this way he�d be able to keep it from wandering into uncomfortable territory.

�Are all your family wizards?�

This lead nicely into a conversation about the boy�s family. He had five older brothers, not three as it turned out. Harry continued to chat with the red head, until the conversation fell into a comfortable silence. Harry, secure in the feel that this boy was no threat, stared out the window at the passing streaks of fields and livestock dotting the countryside they were passing through. At one point the trolley witch came by and Harry in an odd fit of generosity purchased some of everything from the cart, and offered to chare some with his new companion.

Eventually they were interrupted by the round faced boy Harry had overheard speaking to his Gran on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. He looked ready to cry, upset by the fact that his toad was missing again.

�I�ve lost him! He keeps getting away from me!� he wailed.

�He�ll turn up,� Harry was trying to be reassuring.

�Yes,� the boy agreed in a miserable sounding voice. �Well, if you see him��

�Don�t know why he�s so bothered. If I had a toad I�d lose it as quick as possible. Mind you, I brought Scabbers so I talk. He might have died and you wouldn�t know the difference,� Ron was disgusted with his inherited familiar�s sleeping form. The rat was still curled up asleep, even through that racket.

�I tried to turn him yellow yesterday to make him more interesting, but the spell didn�t work. I�ll show you look��

The boy rummaged around until he found his wand, old and chipped with the core peeking out the end. Unicorn hair, as Ron revealed when he noticed Harry�s look. Ron had his wand raised and was just about to start his spell when the compartment door slid open. The toad boy was back but this time he wasn�t alone.

�Has anyone seen a toad? Neville�s lost one,� a bossy sounding voice that was painfully familiar. Harry�s disbelieving gaze snapped to the figure in the doorway. Startled brown eyes met his, time freezing with the breath in their chests. They stared at each other, recognition growing through their eyes. �My Girl, my Niamh ,� he thought faintly. There could be no mistake. Her own lips were moving as she silently whispered the name that he hadn�t been called in years.

�Hades.�

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Special Notes:

Finally! This was like the chapter that would not freaking end. Anyways, I�m still in the building stages, this is promising to be a long fic so I again ask that you please bear with me.
This chapter edited finally, but I have no beta so any mistakes left are still my own. I tried to straighten out the flashbacks from the present, but meh.
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Bearing the Light