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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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Chapter 5: Face to Face
(Rhian age 10)
Rhian's eyes widened and he quickly stepped sideways. He had been about to floo back to Privet Drive when the flames had turned green, announcing a floo arrival.
Dumbledore had told Neville, Elijah and him about the Tri-Wizarding Tournament which England, France and Germany were trying to reinstall. Apparently their efforts were baring fruits, because Hogwarts at least was already having a Pre-Tournament with the ridiculous title of "Founder's Tournament" and the strongest member from each House were taking part in it.
Today a delegation of the German and French as well as the English school and Ministry representatives were supposed to arrive and he was not supposed to meet them. However, whoever was floo'ing in right now was about a quarter of an hour early.
Flattening his fringe over his scar, he watched as the flames in the hearth flared and two blondes stepped out, one of them, faintly familiar.
Draco Malfoy had not changed much. He had grown quite a bit and his features were starting to mature; he had definitely entered puberty since he had last seen the boy.
The blonde eyed him speculatively, and Rhian wondered what was on his mind, but as soon as the Headmaster turned to greet his guests, his face became a guarded blank mask.
Quickly, he finally stepped into the floo and threw the powder in; he had enough problems on right now to not wish for more complications to be added in the form of Draco Malfoy.
The best thing during the past months had been his brief conversations with Neville and his frequent correspondence with his godfather. Sirius was hiding in his old family home, which seemed to make him slightly moody and depressed. His godfather sent him a letter each week, telling about his boring life in hiding and asking all kinds of questions. This way they had gotten to know each other quite well. The escapee had a wicked sense of humor and a mind that was stuck somewhere between a teen and an adult, as well as a light and a dark wizard. He told Rhian about James and his days at Hogwarts, and the few years after graduation they had shared before the Potters were killed and he imprisoned. By now Rhian could even see him as a godfather and liked him more than he had expected after their first meeting.
The worst, by far, had been Ginevra Weasley. Not only did she regularly talk her parents into inviting him on his weekends, but also had picked up the irritating habit of floo'ing over to Dumbledore's office whenever her parents weren't looking, to give him a 'surprise visit'.
Even Neville seemed annoyed by her periodic interruption and once Rhian had even heard him mutter something about a plant that was supposed to help with overt sexual tension.
The comment had made his day back then, but generally the girl could be glad that Marvolo continued to remind him that simply killing her off would not be advantageous to their long-term plans.
However, around the time of last summer, he had developed a strange hunger that could barely be quenched with food, and never for long. Marvolo was also not faring as well as he had always done. Something was straining the Diary; its artificial body had grown even colder and was beginning to fade, and he spent more and more time between the pages of his notebook with every passing day.
For the first time since he had brought Marvolo to Privet Drive did he experience loneliness again and it brought home how much he had gotten use to the company. It also brought back the craving for a parent; however, he knew that that dream would always remain wishful thinking.
As nice as his delusion of having a surrogate father had been and for as long as it had lasted, in the end, Marvolo was not real. The realization had hurt more than anything he had experienced so far. Even worse than realizing that even the people he had been made to believe were his family, were in truth not related to him.
But it had been his own fault. He had been stupidly weak and childish, and as much as something inside of him craved to just be a child, he knew he could not allow these feelings to continue.
And then there was the newest task Dumbledore had given him earlier.
Stepping out into his "relatives'" living room, he sighed in relief as he realized that they were not at home, so he made his way into his "cupboard" without any delay.
As usual these days, he was greeted by an empty room, the only sign that he was not completely alone the black notebook lying innocently on the coffee table.
As soon as he sat down in front of it, plates and bowls filled with vegetables and meats appeared. He was eating more and more these days, unfortunately, it did not help against his gnawing hunger. However, he ignored the dinner for now and picked up the Diary. Opening it, he sent a pulse of his magic inside, calling Marvolo. But in contrast to what he had expected, his mentor did not rise from the pages, merely his face, like a half-relief, appeared.
"What is the old coot planning now?" Marvolo asked as soon as he saw his face. Rhian blushed; sometimes he felt as if he should be more proficient with hiding his emotions, like all true Slytherins did, but then again, he had the suspicion that it was not a lack of skill but Marvolo's sharp eyes that were the problem.
"Tomorrow I am supposed to guard the House Cup of Hogwarts at the final event of the Pre-Tournament," he sneered in explanation. "He expects your other-self to make a move. Apparently he has been more active lately and there are indications that he is planning something big."
After his explanation, Marvolo was silent for a long time; so long in fact, that Rhian got an uneasy feeling in his stomach. It was not the first time he experienced it; in fact, he believed that the Diary wanted to tell him something for some time now, but apparently the time had finally come.
However, as the memory finally spoke, it was totally unexpected:
"I want you to take me along tomorrow, and if the chance arises, give me back to my Master."
"No! I still need your help!" He exclaimed in sudden fright.
Marvolo opened his mouth again, but before he could speak even a single word, he quickly continued: "He has abandoned you, he doesn't want you and he doesn't need you! He has all those servants, but I have nobody! Who will teach me if you are gone? I still have so much to learn and…"
Marvolo suddenly cut him off, his voice harsher than he had ever heard it:
"Enough, Rhian! What I am planning is for the best for both of us; me, but even more so for you!"
Looking down like a scolded child (which he really was), he didn't dare to say more. However, that did not make the angry and desperate tears vanish from his eyes or stopped his balled fists from shaking.
"You must have realized that I am growing weaker. Soon I will not be able to leave my notebook or communicate with you at all. I will not be able to help and protect you any longer and Dumbledore will step up his game if he truly fears my Master's return. It is not me you need, and it is not me you should be working with; if fact, I have never been this person.
Currently my Master believes that you are his enemy, if you and I want to survive, we have to convince him of the opposite. Tomorrow will maybe be our last chance, especially if you want me to help you convince him."
Rhian balled his fists tighter. What Marvolo was saying was reasonable, but he still had a bad feeling. It seemed like an awful high risk to take. What if Lord Voldemort took the Diary, but did not give either of them the chance to explain themselves? Then he would have to flee back to the Dursley's and he would be stuck there alone again.
Once again Marvolo seemed to read his thoughts: "If at all possible, you will have to return to… your current living arrangements. The longer the old fool thinks he has everything under control, the better, however, Malik will still support you and I will do my best to convince my Master of your true loyalties as quickly as possible."
"Is there no way to return your power?" He asked in a last attempt to change his mentor's mind, even though he knew his chance was slim.
"No," was Marvolo's simple answer.
"Why?"
"I have a theory as to what the problem is, however, if I am correct, which I usually am, the reason for my weakened state lays in your maturing magic and only my real 'self' will be able to help you."
"How? Why?" he asked again, not understanding anything. It was a feeling that had grown rather unfamiliar over the last two years and he disliked it.
"That HE will have to tell you when the time has come," was the Diary's evasive answer.
Realizing that there was no use in questioning the Diary further, he let his head hang and finally nodded.
"Fine," he said, his voice conveying that he was anything but.
"You will not have to endure the Dursley's for long," Marvolo promised, before vanishing back between the pages.
He sat in front of his still untouched dinner for a while longer, before finally shrinking and pocketing the Diary and starting to eat. He did not really feel like eating, but he had been starved for too long to not take advantage of a warm meal; besides, he would need his strength tomorrow.
After having eaten even the contents of the last bowl, he changed into his pajamas and climbed into bed. For once, he did not turn back the time, as there would be no lesson or shared story time today. Marvolo clearly was too weak by now. The thought that he could be the reason for his mentor's bad state, made him shiver and he quickly forced his eyes closed, longing for sleep to pull him into blissful nothingness.
The next morning Rhian slept in as the tournament didn't start until late afternoon and the Dursley's thought he had already gone to his "school of freaks". He got a nasty look from Petunia as she realized he had been there the whole time and could have done some chores, but he just ignored it.
Dumbledore awaited him, already clad in a garish purple and green robe; another black one hung over his arm.
"There you are, my boy. Punctual as ever," the old wizard smiled and handed him the robe. "I took the liberty of having this robe custom made for you. After all, this will be your first public appearance."
His eyes widened in shock and plans on how to get away with short notice rushed through his mind. He could apparate, at least theoretically, and was confident that he would manage it with his first or second try, however, the school wards were very strong and old, and while he was confident in his own skills, he was not so sure about being able to break through them. But he definitely did not plan on letting himself be made into a puppet for the public as well.
Another thought entered his mind, namely, that Marvolo had been right about him needing more powerful help soon. He wondered if the Diary's intuition was just extraordinary, or if the memory just knew the old coot that well; however, Dumbledore interrupted his train of thought before he could ponder it further.
"Don't worry Harry, only the champion that reaches the cup will see you. However, his tale about meeting you and if need arises, the story of you fending off the forces of evil, will reassure our people."
He wanted to snort. Those 'Light' idiots and stupid sheep were not his people, the old fool would learn that soon enough, but now was not yet the right time. Instead, he obediently grabbed the robe and wandered over to a corner of the office to have at least a modicum of privacy.
Fortunately he was standing with his back towards the Headmaster, otherwise, the man would have seen his perfect mask slip as he unfolded the robe and saw the ridiculous design.
There was the Hogwarts Crest stitched in golden yellow, ruby red, emerald green and royal blue, stitched on the front and back surrounded by the words "HARRY POTTER - DEFENSOR LUMINIS" in bold letters.
Having no other choice, he changed quickly and then walked back over to the scheming old fool and was let down the spiral staircase and out into the passageway. It didn't take long for him to realize where Dumbledore was leading them. The Quidditch Pitch in the distance was now occupied by what seemed to be a gigantic labyrinth, and sure enough, the Headmaster started explaining:
"While the first rounds of this tournament have consisted of duels, this time our champions have to show their talents in a wider variety, as the Tri-wizarding Tournament is known to require a great number of skills. Cho Chang, Cedric Diggory, Blaise Zabini and Charlie Weasley will have to make their way through this maze and resolve many tasks to get to the House Cup which you will guard in the very center. His or her reward will be to represent our school in the Tri-Wizard Tournament as well as meeting you, the 'Hero of the Light Side', of course."
Rhian rolled his eyes but merely nodded, wondering if they would have to go through the entire maze as well. However, just then Dumbledore lifted his wand and a gate appeared in the hedge that apparently led straight to the centre.
"So, where is the cup, sir?" he asked as Dumbledore stopped in a small, round clearing.
"Hold out your hands, my boy," the Headmaster ordered and drew out his wand. He performed a series of complicated, swirling patterns and suddenly a golden cup appeared hovering in front of Rhian.
"No need to be shy, just take it," the Headmaster hummed with a happy smile and twinkle in his eyes, before continuing: "I have to go now; the Final Task will start in about ten minutes. When a champion arrives, your task will be to hand him or her the cup. I would also appreciate it if you say some encouraging words. The students currently taught at our school are the 'Light's' future after all; they will be your most important allies in the war to come."
"I will do so, Professor," Rhian smiled falsely and watched as the overly colorful figure disappeared back down the path they had come from. After a minute or so, the hedge closed, indicating that the old deceiver had left the maze.
Sighing, he scowled down on the trophy and then flopped down onto the grass. Who knew how long he would have to wait for one of the champions to show up? Maybe he would be lucky and all of them would be eaten by some giant beast, but then again, Charlie was amongst them and he was the second oldest Weasley son.
Thinking about the champions, Blaize Zabini was a Slytherin, as far as he knew, at least the Zabini's came from an old line of 'Dark' Purebloods who had mostly gone to Slytherin, not that there weren't 'Dark Wizards' in other houses as well. Snorting, Rhian shook his head. It was ridiculous how the Headmaster twisted the truth to try and make him believe the 'Dark side' was the minority. Definitely all of his students were not the 'Light's' future.
He suddenly heard cheering in the distance, the Pre-Tournament must have finally started; however, it did not take long until the happy and anticipating noise was replaced by bored silence. Rhian could only imagine how interesting it had to be for a castle full of kids and teenagers to watch a gigantic hedge maze for an unknown amount of time and smirked, before lying down on his back, crossing his arms behind his back and closing his eyes to relax.
He couldn't have said how much time had passed as he finally heard footsteps running towards him. Swiftly and smoothly he rose to his feet, picked up the House Cup again and plastered a gryfindorish smile onto his lips; after all, that was what people would expect to see and for now he needed to play his role a while longer.
Something however, did not sound quite right about the sound. It seemed too muddled too… his eyes widened as suddenly two tall boys appeared from around a corner, running at full speed and neither of them seemed about to slow down any. One of them was Charlie Weasley, the other, a blonde one that reminded him of those ridiculous Princes of muggle fairy tales.
They clearly were good sports, not shoving or kicking each other in their attempt to reach the cup first, but that would really not matter much as soon as they collided with him; and collide they would.
Rhian fought the urge to close his eyes and lift at least one arm protectively in front of his face, and in the next moment the two had reached him. They grabbed the trophy simultaneously and in the next moment he was whisked away by a hook behind his naval.
"A Portkey" his mind provided sharply, and for a short moment he wondered if it was a good thing or not that he was taken somewhere where at least Dumbledore could not overhear his planned conversation with the Dark Lord. However, that also meant that he was totally on his own.
Coming out of his stupor, he realized whatever it would be, he needed to somehow make sure that neither that blonde Prince Charming, nor Charlie could tell on him, so he concentrated his magic and shot a stunner at the redhead.
Unfortunately, before he could deal with the other boy, they were dropped quite roughly onto a muddy ground.
"What a nice surprise," a cold, smooth voice spoke out of nowhere. Rhian was reminded of his first meeting with Marvolo, where the memory had hidden in the shadows as well, just as Lord Voldemort was doing right now. They clearly were the same person.
"We planned to send the old fool a message and now we can send him three. Lucius, kill the two remaining boys."
Before he could react, a whispering could be heard in the darkness and a green light shot towards him. Not hesitating a moment, he quickly ducked, leaving the blonde boy in the line of the killing curse. Even as the body fell, he jumped back onto his feet and called:
"Stop, My Lord!"
Silence descended over the dark meadow, if shocked or calculating he couldn't say. But he didn't care; all that mattered was that this was his chance. Placing his right hand over his heart, he moved into a traditional bow. If Lord Voldemort was at least half the Dark Lord he made himself out to be, he would recognize the gesture.
Respectful, but not groveling, like one Pureblood Heir greeting another of equal standing in the old days.
"How intriguing. The 'Light Hero' knowing and greeting the 'Dark Lord' with a traditional bow," The voice sneered; it was even colder than Marvolo's had been.
"Say Lucius, shall we kill him for his impudence or grant him the chance to speak?"
Rhian didn't move and stayed in his bowed position. He knew he had been very audacious with his move already and shouldn't strain his luck any further. The moment of silence that followed once more was torture, but then slow steps could be heard and he could only hope that it meant that Lord Voldemort was giving him a chance.
"What is it that the great Harry Potter wishes to tell me, the Dark Lord?" Voldemort finally asked, and Rhian took that as a sign that he was allowed to straighten once again. However, what his eyes fell on shocked him into speechlessness for a moment. There, across from him, stood not a man resembling the memory in the Diary, nor was there a creature that looked like the monster Dumbledore had described to him. Instead Lucius Malfoy stood there with a small, reddish, baby-like homunculus in his arms.
"It is shocking what the 'Light Side' has reduced me to young Potter, but do better than to delude yourself into thinking that I am powerless," Voldemort hissed. "And before this night is to end, I will be even stronger, restored to my old power once again by the blood of an enemy forcefully taken. Now speak, before I lose my patience."
His mind was racing a hundred miles a second, trying to deduce if he could use the sparse information the Dark Lord had just given him to further his advantage. He knew he had read something about rituals and the power of different types of harvested human blood, but right now he couldn't remember what exactly the text had said. However, he knew that he could not take any more time, so he started speaking, hoping that prolonging his situation enough would help:
"I have come bearing a gift for you, Lord Voldemort," he began, smoothly pulling the shrunken Diary out from his inner robe pocket, along with his wand, before tapping it and enlarging it again.
"What am I supposed to do with an old journal?" was Voldemort's mocking retort, obviously not realizing what kind of notebook he was holding, and as if by unspoken command, Lucius Malfoy lifted his wand once more.
Rhian tried to stay calm and not let himself become nervous.
"It is yours, is it not? And a lot of your magic has been seeped into this Diary."
The word Diary seemed to catch the Dark Lord's attention and with a beckoning motion of his hand, Rhian could feel magic pulling on the journal. He let it go and watched how it floated over to the powerful wizard. It truly was amazing what the Dark Lord could do, even in that weakened state. Even with the distance between them, his skin was tingling and an unknown thrill went through his body.
"Where did you find this?" the Dark Lord asked and his voice was so smooth that Rhian instinctively stiffened.
"I found it in Hogwarts, in the Chamber of Secrets, to be exact," he answered regardless.
"And how would my Diary have found its way to Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked in return, clearly not believing him, but to Rhian's surprise Lucius Malfoy cleared his throat.
"My Lord, forgive me, but I fear that would be my doing."
The homunculus' eyes snapped up to his right-hand man, eyeing him sharply.
"Explain."
"After your… disappearance," Lucius started with a polite cough, making it unmistakably clear which disappearance he meant "I went to Serpent's Court and found what I now know to be your Diary. I became curious because of the amount of your power it held and hoped that you may have left it behind as a way to return you to this plain if something should ever happen to you. We all knew after all that you had taken precautions for such an event."
"So Lucius, you took one of my personal possession and dropped it at Hogwarts, the place where my strongest enemy resides?" the Dark Lord's voice was low and dangerous.
Lucius Malfoy visibly gulped. "Yes… no… not exactly, my Lord." He cleared his throat again. "I was surprised by its empty pages and just to see what would happen, wrote in it. It answered and told me to take it to Hogwarts. So the next opportunity I had, I dropped it into a cauldron of one of those red-haired blood traitor twins. As far as I know, their little sister took it and shortly after strange things started to happen at Hogwarts. Mudblood students were petrified and then the girl somehow ended up in the Chamber of Secrets. Dumbledore however, sent Potter after her and she returned safely. I have not heard about the Diary since."
Another long moment of silence followed, in which Lord Voldemort seemed to contemplate something, but Rhian could not start at guessing what was occupying his mind. However, suddenly the Dark Lord snapped out of whatever trance he had been in and his blood red eyes narrowed in on him.
"Tell me, boy, why would Harry Potter give me my Diary back? Especially after it had been responsible of petrifying children?"
Rhian straightened, the effort to not snarl at the word "boy" straining his whole body.
"Things are not always as they seem, Lord Voldemort. But I am sure you realized that many years ago."
"True, true. But what am I supposed to do with this old Diary of mine? Will it help me to regain my old power and win this war?" Voldemort asked mockingly, and suddenly the epiphany hit him. Regaining his power, restoring it with the blood of an enemy forcefully taken. Quickly, before the Dark Lord could grow impatient and his chance vanishes he spoke again:
"No, this Diary will not be able to restore your Powers. I merely thought it polite to return to you such a personal item. However, my blood, willingly given, could help you reach your goal far better than the blood of an enemy forcefully taken."
With satisfaction he saw that he had caught Lord Voldemort's attention. The homunculus had stilled in the arms of his right-hand man, his narrowed, gleaming red eyes fixed on him. Even the proud Malfoy patriarch had gone still. Finally, Voldemort spoke:
"Blood willingly given indeed holds more power that that forcefully taken."
"And I am willing to offer you mine," he said clearly, with a bow of his head.
"It seems I may have judged you incorrectly. Or maybe not, but for now I will accept your offer. If you agree to a few terms of precaution, of course."
A test, Rhian knew, and one risky for him most likely. However, as he had no intention of betraying the Dark Lord's trust, he didn't bat an eye and merely asked: "What precautions would you like me to agree to?"
"Hand your wand over. I of course promise you that it will come to no harm and you will get it back after you have fulfilled your promise."
Taking a deep breath, he nodded and walked over, pulling his wand out along the way. However, as soon as it touched the Dark Lord's small palm, the wizard hissed like an angry snake:
"Are you trying to fool me, Potter?"
His eyes widened and he took a step back; he had no idea how he could have offended the Dark Lord.
"Trying to trick me with a piece of wood!" the wizard snarled, before snapping his wand in two. To his horror it transformed back to the branch it had once been. Only now it looked dry and dead.
"This is the wand Dumbledore gave me, I swear on my magic!" he exclaimed in panic. Voldemort's non-existent eyebrows shot up: "Do the spell and I may spare you!"
"How, without a wand?" He asked, knowing that performing the spell would be his only chance to come out of this encounter alive.
Voldemort sneered. "This piece of wood has never been a wand. If you did not lie, then Dumbledore has raised you to wield your magic wandlessly and you should have no problem," the Dark Lord smirked evilly.
"I," he began, lifting his wand hand up. However, he faltered, unsure of what name he should use, but while he felt that Rhian was the name he truly was supposed to have, it was not his official name, so he continued: "...Harry James Potter, swear on my life and magic that I have only spoken the truth about the origin of my wand and not betrayed the Dark Lord Voldemort in word or action."
His magic rose from inside of him, strong and potent. For a moment it swirled around him, before vanishing again.
"It seems you have spoken the truth," Voldemort said, and Rhian could see the wheels turning in the wizard's mind. But then he snapped out of whatever contemplation he had been in, snapped his spidery fingers and a silver, emerald encrusted bowl with a matching dagger appeared in front of him, hovering in mid-air. The Dark Lord motioned for him to come closer and then ordered: "Seven drops."
His hand was shaking slightly as he grabbed the sharp weapon, but not because of fear, no it was excitement coursing through his veins that made him restless. He barely felt the pain as the blade pierced his skin and his blood began to drip down into the bowl. When seven drops had dripped in, he pulled his finger away and healed it with a gesture of his hand, not bothering with the correct wand movement anymore now that he knew he had never needed them anyway.
However, why Dumbledore would train him to do magic wandlessly only to keep it a secret, he could not fathom. But thinking of Dumbledore, he realized that his time was running out.
"I am afraid I cannot stay for the big event. Dumbledore will grow suspicious if I do not return soon, and right now I am not in a position to oppose him openly."
Surprise quickly flickered over the Dark Lords features, but it was gone in an instant.
"Very well," Voldemort said and with another snap of his fingers repaired the broken branch and returned it to its former transfigured state. "Be assured that Lord Voldemort will not forget your assistance, young Potter. The House Cup will take you back to Hogwarts."
Nodding, he walked over to the cup and summoned Cedric's dead and Charlie's unconscious bodies, before sending some of his magic into the trophy, reactivating it.
ΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθ
"I want you to collect everything you can find out about Harry Potter and bring it to me," Voldemort ordered his right-hand man as soon as the small figure had vanished.
"Yes, My Lord," the blonde responded obediently.
He could not quite pinpoint it, but something was not right with that boy. He clearly was not a supporter of Dumbledore regardless of what the old man believed, and tried to make the public believe. However, that could not be all. No real Potter would ever support him, after all, the last couple of generations had always stayed carefully Neutral.
Well, he would get to the bottom of the mystery soon, after all the boy had the potential of becoming one of his strongest followers.
ΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθ
The trip back seemed shorter than the one to the meadow had been, leaving him without any time to construct a plan in his head, however, he would not need anything complicated.
As his body hit the former Quidditch Pitch, he smirked to himself, thinking "let the show begin," and then started shouting:
"Professor Dumbledore! Help! Please, over here!"
Footsteps could be heard and in the next moment he was surrounded by a crowd of people. Flashlights were going off at the same time as people started screaming.
"My boy! That's my boy!" the voice of a man shouted followed by the distressed cry of a woman. A woman and man fell down next to him, cradling the body of the dead blonde to their chests; they had to be his parents.
Wanting to get away and thinking that it was time for some more hero action, he pushed himself up, grabbed Charlie under his arms and shouted "Out of my way! He needs help, he is still alive!"
He heard a high pitched scream and a moment later Mrs. Weasley's voice reached his ears, making him wince: "Charlie! It's my Charlie!"
"Let me through!" Dumbledore's voice boomed next and he actually rolled his eyes then. Had he not just said that Charlie was still alive? Making such a fuss about one of his precious Weasley's, but not reacting at the death of another student; that was just so typical for the Headmaster.
The two adults appeared, shoving people violently out of the way and sparing the Diggory's no sideways glance. Charlie's body was lifted into the air and with a "Come along, my boy!" Dumbledore started marching towards the castle.
Obediently he followed the silent wizard and still whaling witch. At some point they were joined by more redheads; the twins, Ronald and Ginny to be exact.
"He will…"
"...pull through…"
"...won't he?" Fred and George asked silently, worry evident in their voices.
"Yes, no worries. He is only stunned," he told them and they sighed in relief.
"I am so glad we have you!" Ginny said and attached herself to his arm. "First me, now Charlie, you truly are our savior."
"I only do what is expected of me," he told her truthfully and mentally added "at least for now." Of course, he would probably always follow certain orders, but soon they would not come from Dumbledore anymore.
"Don't say something like that! You could never let someone just die," Ginny argued back, however, they fortunately had finally reached the hospital wing and Dumbledore motioned for them to be quiet.
As soon as they entered, Madam Pomfrey was at their side.
"Oh I knew something would happen. This last task was just too…"
"It was Voldemort," Dumbledore cut her off, making everybody flinch with the exception of Rhian. "He kidnapped Harry, Charlie and Cedric."
"Oh my!" the mediwitch exclaimed while levitating Charlie onto the closest bed. "Is Mr. Diggory well?"
Dumbledore shook his head, false regret in his eyes. "I am afraid he died in the attack."
Madame Pomfrey paled, but a groan from Charlie, who was about to regain consciousness, reminded her of her patient and she finally set to work.
Rhian watched the proceedings silently. There was not much the mediwitch needed to do as the redhead had not been cursed or injured in any way. However, whenever he wanted to sneak off to a more secluded corner, Ginny tightened her hold on his arm while all the time the other Weasley's were throwing him curious looks which he did not plan on answering.
Fortunately it did not take long to check Charlie over, and as soon as Madam Pomfrey announced that he was unharmed, the family finally went to surround him while Dumbledore waved him over. Not that he felt enthusiastic about speaking to the old bastard, but he probably would be allowed to leave after he had told his story. Or fairytale, in this instance.
"Harry my boy, what happened?" the old wizard asked with an eager gleam badly hidden in his twinkling blue eyes. Well, he would be in for a disappointment.
"I am not sure, sir," he began and lowered his eyes in apparent shame.
"You are not sure? Was Voldemort not there?" Dumbledore instantly prodded.
"No… he wasn't there. Only some cloaked people with white masks. It didn't seem like they were there on his orders."
The Headmaster's face fell and the twinkle died in his eyes; he wanted to grin.
"But he must have been there. I am quite sure that he was the one planning the attack," the old wizard repeated, more firmly and with a strong wave of magic accompanying his words. But he wouldn't confirm anything.
"No, he wasn't there. I mean… I have fought him before. I know what his magic feels like… I would have noticed him."
Dumbledore's brows furrowed, he was clearly not satisfied with the report. The old manipulator had probably already planned a scandalous interview with one of the wizarding papers where he would have announced to the world that Lord Voldemort was back and he, Rhian, should have confirmed it.
"Very well. Go home for now. Maybe you will remember more details tomorrow. I am sure you are in shock right now and certain details have slipped your mind," the Headmaster said and Rhian sighed mentally in relief at the dismissal.
Without another glance at the Weasley's, he walked over to the fireplace of the Infirmary, grabbed a handful of the floo powder that was kept in a kidney-dish and threw it into the hearth. Only a few seconds later he was back at Privet Drive.
The house was already dark and silent as it was quite late by now. A cold shiver ran down his spine; he hated the place, it felt so lonely and loveless. However, in contrast to the past few years, the feeling didn't vanish as he entered his cupboard.
Marvolo was not awaiting him any longer, there was no person lounging on the couch, reading an old, dusty tomb, greeting him with a sneered remark about the "old coot" and ready to keep him company during dinner.
Instead he sat down in front of the set coffee table in total silence. The meal looked just as delicious as it had always done, but to him it tasted like ash and it was even less filling than it had already been lately. Hopefully Voldemort would contact him soon and offer him a place by his side in some way. Even a place with some of his followers he would accept; as long as he did not have to stay at the Dursley's' for much longer. He was not sure how long he would be able to bear this loneliness.
The memories from his early childhood came rushing back quicker than he had expected and as he laid down, he felt as if the years in between had never happened. In the end, a voice in his mind whispered that Marvolo had just been an illusion, a magical artifact. He had not gained a parent; the fact that it had been so easy for the Diary to leave him was the proof.
And thus, for the first time in years his old childhood nightmares came back, leaving him exhausted despite having enough hours of sleeps thanks to his Time Turner.
ΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθΦθ
Lucius sighed in defeat and leaned back in his chair. It was late at night and he was still sitting in his private office at Malfoy Manor, reading through old files in the hopes of finding some information on one Harry James Potter.
However, what should have been an easy task, especially for someone like him who knew the Ministry as well as his robe pocket and was quite efficient in research, turned out to be an impossible task.
Someone had made sure that no one would be able to find any personal information on the boy and he had a feeling as to whom it had been. The old coot must have 'retrieved' it at some point, probably to 'protect' his 'hero'.
Once again his mind drifted to the events that had happened almost half a year ago. To think that the onetime his Lord was not searching out the boy, he would come to him and offer his assistance…
The boy was an utter enigma; a Slytherin through and through, despite being a Potter. And the magic he had emitted during his oath had been anything but 'Light'. It had been dark. But not only that, it had felt familiar in a sense it should not have, after all, he had never met the boy before.
His musing was interrupted by a soft knock.
"Come in," he called out, assuming that it was his wife, demanding to know why he was not joining her in their bed for the fifth night in a row. However, their Lord was getting impatient with the lack of progress; therefore he had opted to put in night shifts.
Additionally, the Dark Lord had started with his 'search' again. What exactly he was searching for, he however did not know, just as he had not known the last time it had occurred, shortly before the strong wizard's fall. But one thing he was certain about and that was that this search would soon darken his Lord's mood and shorten his patience even further.
However, to his surprise it was not Narcissa, but Draco who entered silently. His son had been over at Krum Manor for a BBQ with his Durmstrang friends and must have just returned.
"I saw the light when I walked by," he said in way of explanation and sat down in the additional chair he kept for visitors in his office.
Turning around, Lucius examined his son, waiting for him to tell him why exactly he had decided to visit him so late in the night. It was not totally uncommon that he was working this late; however, he knew Draco would soon start telling him when he felt comfortable enough.
However, for now it seemed that his son wanted to get his mind away from the topic he had come to discuss, because he said:
"You seem stressed, father. Has something happened at the Ministry?"
"Not quite. It is a task given to me by our Lord that is keeping me busy," he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"What kind of task?"
"You know I am not allowed to speak about my missions, Draco," he told his son, but then sighed and added: "I am supposed to find information about Harry Potter, but Dumbledore has made sure that nothing worth mentioning was left at the Ministry," thinking that a vague summary could do no harm in this matter.
Noticing that his son had been silent for too long, he lifted his gaze from where it had rested on one of the nearly empty fields and saw Draco looking out of the window with conflict written in his eyes.
Getting a strange feeling, he sat up straighter and asked: "What is it Draco? DO you know anything that could be of importance?"
His son hesitated for another second, before he inquired: "Do you remember when I was little and felt Rhian's soul being reborn?"
Lucius froze, a foreboding feeling grabbing him. "You mean, back when your cousin fell pregnant, even though he never possessed the carrier gene?"
"Yes," Draco confirmed and then, after a few more agonizing second whispered "Harry Potter feels the same."
Within seconds, Lucius was on his feet, pacing up and down in front of the big window of his study. "Of course…" he mumbled to himself. "It would make sense, more than the story that James would have left his husband for this muggle-wench…" spinning around, he faced Draco."Thank you, son, I believe you have just provided our Lord with the answer he had been looking for. Please tell your mother that I left for Serpent's Court if I am not back by breakfast."
And with that, he left his office, intent on going to his Lord for a meeting that was long overdue.
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False Ties (Prequel to: Family Ties)