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In Servitude of the Dark: The Hand That Guides Me	By : xXxLuckyxXx Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 74965 -:- Recommendations : 4 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: All things Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just play in her world.

Chapter List
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A/N: Here's an extra treat for you guys, because you guys have been so supportive, plus its the weekend, and if you're like me, you'd luv to sink in to a nice long story.

Warning: I don't like Ron, so I am portraying him as an idiot, but Harry is a loyal friend, so he will not forsake his friendship with Ron for being an idiot. It will take much more to break their friendship.

Chapter 6 : Back To Hogwarts – August 31, 1993

Harry arrived early enough to beat the mad rush and found Neville sitting in a compartment all by himself. "Can I sit here?" Harry asked, deciding it was better to sit with his friend than with the shaggy old man snoozing in the back of the train.

Startled, Neville spun around, almost losing his grip on a potted plant in his hand. "Oh! Sure, Harry," he replied with a smile, and then his smile widened even more. "Wow, you look great! Those are really nice robes." And then he started blushing and stammering after realizing what he'd just said. "Umm…not that you don't usually look great…"

Harry burst out laughing, allowing Neville to relax. "I'll forgive you if you help me with this trunk," he said, and Neville jumped up to help. "I decided to treat myself this year."

After they got the trunk stored, Harry sat across from Neville. He cocked his head at the potted plant. "What's that you got there?" Harry reached up to touch the bulbous looking plant.

"Oh, careful!" Neville quickly pulled it out of reach. "It's a mimbulus mimbletonia." Seeing the blank look on Harry's face, he explained. "One of its defense mechanisms is to squirt stinksap if it feels threatened."

Harry nodded in understanding, giving the plant one last curious look. "So how did your birthday go?"

By the look on Neville's face, he was happy to actually have someone to share his summer with. "Oh, it was great. Uncle Algie got me the mimbulus mimbletonia and Gran took me to the International Greenhouse of Magical and Exotic Plants. And I want to thank you again for your gift. I'll never forget my wand again." Then his smile faded. "After I sent you that you-know-what.." Neville whispered, not wanting anyone to hear. "I sort of felt bad for sending you an empty book. It seemed like a good idea at the time…"

Harry gave the normally shy boy a smile. It seemed he only got timid and nervous when he was around a lot of people. "It was a great gift," Harry countered. "I already have some ideas on breaking the enchantments." Or at least Marvolo does, Harry mentally corrected himself.

He recalled what Marvolo discovered last week about the grimoire:

Harry was just finishing revising for third year potions when his concentration was interrupted by Marvolo cursing himself. Curious at what could inspire such a reaction from the normally calm apparition, Harry found Marvolo studying the Prince Grimoire.

"Did you find something?" Harry had asked, noting the pages were still blank.

Marvolo nodded still disgusted with himself. "Every grimoire is sealed by a magic that only their line can break," Marvolo explained, and Harry nodded, having heard this before. "The Slytherin Grimoire seal is broken by soaking the book in a snake venom that has to be coaxed out of the snake by parseltongue."

"And since the Prince line are potion masters…" Harry finished. "It has to be some kind of potion only they can make? But what kind of potion?"

"The formula could be passed down from generation to generation orally, in which we have reached a dead end," Marvolo said. "Or there is some kind of revealing mechanism in the pages of this book to give us the formula. If that is so, I suspect only the blood of a Prince can unlock the secrets within these pages."

Harry had been discouraged after hearing this. After all, this was Snape's blood they were talking about! But Marvolo seemed hopeful enough, putting the project aside until they could get their hands on a sample of Snape's blood.

(end flashback)

"Really? You have?" Neville asked, bringing Harry back to the present. "That's amazing. Those things are suppose to be impossible to crack."

Harry simply shrugged. "It probably won't work," he said and lowered his voice. "Does the Longbottoms have a grimoire?"

Neville suddenly looked nervous at the change of topic. "I'm not sure, but every old line is suppose to have one," he answered, matching Harry's tone. "But even if I know where it is, and even if Gran would let me, it's not like I can read it anyway. Not even Gran remembers how to break the enchantments on that book."

Harry frowned. "Don't you find it sad?" he asked. "I mean, this is your family's history. Every single Longbottom have contributed to it. I know if I find the Potter…"

"Shhh! Harry!" Neville interrupted panicky and glanced at the door as if someone would walk in right this moment. "You don't know what you're talking about! This stuff is illegal and dangerous. If you keep on about this, people will think you're a dark wizard."

Harry crossed his arms and scowled. He had hoped to find a like-minded person in Neville Longbottom, someone in the Gryffindor house who would not go screeching at every little independent thought he had. It would be a shame if he had to go to the Slytherins to talk about this kind of stuff. Well, he wouldn't give up so soon. Out of all the Gryffindor's of his year, Neville was the most levelheaded, and Harry decided he wouldn't give up so soon.

"Harry?" Neville prodded, not liking the determined look that came over those overly bright green eyes. "What are you thinking?" he asked nervously.

Before Harry could answer, the door really did slide open, causing both boys to jump.

"Oi! There you are, Harry," came a very familiar and very loud voice.

"If you had woken up earlier, we wouldn't have had to search the whole train for Harry," Hermione scolded.

Harry shot his friend, Ron, an annoyed look and scowled at the changes Ron had undergone over the summer. In addition to an impressive number of freckles, from being under the Egyptian sun, he had also shot up at least four inches. Four Inches! Why was the world so unfair…And Hermione, who had squeezed around him, was only an inch or so shorter than Harry. Harry could just imagine being the shortest boy or girl in Gryffindor. Maybe Marvolo knows a growth potion or something…

"So why were both of you looking so serious," Hermione asked, sliding in next to Neville, while Ron took the seat next to Harry.

Harry and Neville traded glances. By the panicky look still in Neville's eyes, Harry decided it was too soon to broach the subject again. And he instinctively knew Ron and Hermione wouldn't be as open minded as Neville was. "Oh, I was just asking Neville about some wizarding culture thing that I didn't understand."

"Hey! You could have asked me," Ron protested, looking insulted.

Harry rolled his eyes, even as he quickly made up some kind question to ask. "Alright, then. You know all the titles Dumbledore has?" Harry began ticking them off. "Supreme Mugwump, Chief Warlock, Grand Sorcerer. How come no one else has titles like that? And what do they mean?"

Everyone glanced at Ron, who remained silent. Finally he just shrugged. "Who cares what they all mean," he said. "The only thing we need to know is that he's the most powerful and brilliant wizard of today. The only wizard that You-Know-Who is afraid of." Ron ended it with a decisive nod as if to close the subject.

"Oh Ron," Hermione shook her head. "Wizarding politics absolutely baffles me, and I for one think it's an excellent question, Harry." Then she turned to Neville with a sharp look, her eyes practically demanding an answer. "Well?"

Neville's shoulder scrunched up when six pairs of eyes turned to him. "Oh, well…ummm," he stammered, hugging his plant a little closer. "Sup..Supreme Mugwump is a…"

"It's okay, Nev. I got this one, but correct me if I'm wrong, alright?" Harry said softly, putting his nervous friend back at ease. "Supreme Mugwump is the head position in the International Confederation of Wizards. The ICW is like the muggle version of NATO," he added for Hermione's benefit. "It's a gathering of representatives from several wizarding nations with the goals of peaceful international relations and the advancement of Light magic." He turned to Neville. "Did I get everything?"

Neville nodded jerkily. "Y..yes, Harry."

Hermione's eyes grew wide, having never heard her friend talk like this before. Neither had Ron. "Did you swallow an entire encyclopedia over the summer?" Ron asked.

Harry shrugged. "You know how it is at the Dursleys. All I had to do was read, and I figure it would be interesting."

Actually, it was Marvolo's suggestion that Harry got to know Dumbledore better, not just because they were trying to avoid him, but because he was such a large player in the political world. It was here, that Marvolo had accused Dumbledore of hypocrisy. Everyone said that Dumbledore selflessly turned down the Ministry of Magic position, not interested in its power, but they failed to take into account his top position on the Wizengamut and in the ICW.

Ron seemed to buy Harry's explanation, but Hermione looked distraught. Harry figured it was a case of 'not knowing what you don't know.'

"Anyway, I think it would be great if Hogwarts had some kind of…I don't know…an introductory course for students who didn't grow up in the wizarding world," Harry continued.

The distraught look in Hermione's eyes were replaced by excited ones. "Oh, that's an excellent idea," she said brightly. "All I got was a flimsy pamphlet…"

Ron snorted loudly. "What a waste of time," he interrupted. "You end up learning all you need to know by the time you graduate Hogwarts anyway," he said. "What's the point of making a whole class…"

Harry's mind drifted away as he recognized an impending argument between his two friends. Now that the idea was planted, Harry couldn't help but think it was a good idea, but Ron did have a point. He probably couldn't get an entire class approved by Dumbledore or whoever dealt with this kind of thing, but he could start some kind of club…I'll have to ask Marvolo what he thinks, Harry mentally noted. Already, ideas and club activities were racing through his mind. And I'll have to get Neville to help, Harry thought, knowing that no matter how much he read, he couldn't possibly know as much as someone who had been raised to it.

"Oi, Harry!"

Harry jerked in surprise and stared at Ron. "Yeah?"

"I called your name twice." Ron looked at him strangely, but shook it off. "I was just saying did the Dursley's sign your permission slip?"

This time, it was Harry's turn to stare. "Permission slip?" he asked blankly.

"Yeah, it came with our class sign up list," Hermione answered. "This year we get to visit the Hogsmeade village. According to Hogwarts : A History, it's one of the few villages left that is completely magick!"

"And all of you got a permission slip?" Harry asked, and everyone nodded. Harry's thoughts turned inward. Was it another case of his post being re-routed, or was the permission slip deliberately not delivered to him. And if so, why wouldn't they let him visit Hogsmeade?

Before Harry could think on it more, the compartment quickly darkened. Upon opening the curtains, they saw the rapid gathering of storm clouds…an unnaturally rapidly gathering storm clouds. A sense of foreboding washed over Harry, and he quickly slipped Marvolo's diary out from beneath his robes and cracked it open. The train rocked back and forth, and startled cries erupted in the train.

Harry and Marvolo had discussed the dangers of Sirius Black and believed if the killer was after him, then he'd most likely attack while on the Hogwart's Express before Harry could reach the safety of the school's wards. It was in transit that Harry would be most vulnerable, and so Harry promised to keep the diary on him, and at the very first sign of anything strange happening, he'd summon Marvolo.

"We can't have arrived already," Hermione said as the rocking train came to a full stop. "It's still too soon."

Hermione was right, and this definitely qualified as something strange.

Harry barely got a glimpse of Marvolo's wispy form flowing out of the diary when Harry was suddenly surrounded by a voice that had no place on a magical train.

"No food for the next two days, you little Freak!"

"But I didn't get any today…"

"Shut up, boy! Now get back in the cupboard and stop whining."

"Did anyone hear that?" Harry shouted, trying to make his voice heard above his uncle's voice.

"No, Harry," Neville answered. "We don't hear anything. But it's getting bloody cold in here."

"Look at me! Look at me now, Harry!" Marvolo shouted.

Harry shuddered and forcefully peeled his eyes open. Rarely did Marvolo ever call him by his first name. It was always some kind of pet name, so Harry knew Marvolo was serious. "I hear Uncle Vernon," Harry whimpered, sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Why do I…?" Harry jerked as the memory became one of the many beatings he took under Vernon's meaty hand.

"It's dementors, Harry," Marvolo said, urgently. "I'm going to try to block them out, but I have to do it through your scar. Do you trust me?"

By now, Harry was barely conscious of anything happening around him. He couldn't hear his friends shouting his name nor the drop in temperature, though he did shiver violently. All he knew was that he'd do anything to keep his memories from overwhelming him, so he gave a jerky nod, since his teeth chattered so much he couldn't talk.

And then everything was pushed into the background when a burst of hot pain struck the scar on his forehead. It felt like a red hot lance had pierced his skull, and Harry clamped down, not letting even a cry of pain escape. Uncle Vernon would surely whip him harder if he heard Harry cry out. Little Freaks weren't allowed to cry, after all.

And then, just as quickly as the scar exploded in pain, so too did it disappear, leaving only the familiar feel of Marvolo's presence in his mind. Harry literally sagged in relief. Marvolo's presence felt every bit as comforting and safe as one of the many embraces that they shared. Warm memories of leaning up against Marvolo's chest, reading on the loveseat, pushed away the frightening images of his uncle's furious face.

Still basking in the feeling of warmth and safety, Harry was only vaguely aware of some kind of silvery light racing down the corridor of train. And soon after, the oppressive coldness drifted away and the sun shined outside, leaving everything bright and happy again. Except, judging by the shaken looks all around, they all still felt mentally bruised.

Chocolate…chocolate, Harry…

Harry blinked blearily for a moment, swearing he had heard Marvolo saying the word chocolate. But why would…?

As if the word conjured the item, a large slab of dark brown chocolate was suddenly stuck under Harry's nose. Surprised, Harry followed the scarred and hairy hand that held it, up the arm, and finally onto the concerned look of the man who Harry remembered was sleeping in the last compartment of the train. Still slightly confused, Harry could only utter a, "huh?"

Instead of answering, the man placed it on the table in front of Harry and passed around a few other pieces for his friends. "Make sure you eat all of that," he told everyone. "I'm going to check on the other compartments." And with that, the door slid closed again, leaving Harry and his friends staring at each other.

The old saying of not taking candy from strangers flitted across Harry's mind, but he remembered Marvolo saying chocolate, so he bit a small piece off. As soon as it hit his stomach, he could feel the last chill chased away. Eyes widening in pleasant surprise, he encouraged his friends to eat theirs too.

A few moments of quiet passed between the four, each too preoccupied with their own thoughts and eating the chocolate to talk. Harry took this time to prod the presence in his mind. Marvolo? Hello? The chocolate really helped.

Good, and you are well?

Yes, thank you, Marvolo. What on earth was that?

Later…

Harry felt the presence growing weaker and weaker and began panicking. Marvolo! Are you okay? Talk to me!

Rest…Talk later…

And with that, Harry felt Marvolo trickle out of his mind by way of his scar. It made the scar, which was still tender and inflamed from before, ache again, but it wasn't nearly as bad as before. Harry resisted the urge to rub it, not wanting to bring any attention to his scar in front of his friends. Instead he made sure his bangs covered it sufficiently before turning concerned thoughts on Marvolo.

No doubt whatever he did to shield Harry's mind from the dementers had drained him of energy. Over the course of the summer, constant contact and sharing of magic, had gradually made Marvolo more and more real. His colors darkened, his body could handle physical pressure a little better, and he only needed to return to the diary a few hours a night to rest. Grateful as Harry was for the mental buffer, he hoped Marvolo's progress did not get set back to being a ghost again.

If Harry had any doubt about Marvolo's intentions about him, then they were completely and cleanly snuffed out. The self-sacrificing act was certainly more befitting a Gryffindor than a self-serving Slytherin. Likely a side-effect of their souls intermingling for so long, but a good one in Harry's opinion.

It was a solemn and quiet group of students who arrived at Hogwarts. Some of the first years were still crying, even after the chocolate. Harry, himself, still felt so out of sorts that he merely gave the creepy, red-eyed, skeletal looking horses that pulled their carriages a mere glance. He didn't notice that he was the only one in their group who could see them, and didn't realize the significance of being able to see thestrals.

Later that night, after the Sorting ceremony, it was finally revealed to them what the attack on the train was all about. According to Dumbledore, the ministry had sent guards from Azkaban, the dementors, to 'protect' the school from Sirius Black. Harry found some reassurance that Dumbledore no more wanted those horrible creatures haunting the school than Harry did. Reading, or listening, between the lines, even the Gryffindors could tell this was just a power struggle between the Ministry and Dumbledore.

Harry just wished they'd take their battles outside of the school, because if those dementors were to stay, then Harry had to find a way to protect himself against them. He couldn't ask Marvolo to serve as a buffer between them again.

Hopefully, Marvolo will have some ideas, Harry thought as he tossed and turned in bed. It was already bad enough, having to sleep alone, but now his mind swirled around long forgotten horrors that were kicked up like a cloud of dust. It was only after Harry relented and dug up a Dreamless Sleep from his medi-potion's collection that he finally succumbed to sleep.

A/N: Phew, I am glad I'm done with all the filler stuff. Now that Harry is at Hogwarts the story can really move along. Next up, Marvolo provides a temporary solution to Harry's dementor problems. Thank you for those who reviewed the last 5 chapters. Your encouraging words give me faith to continue posting. This is ever more important as the plot thickens and more controversial issues are raised.

A/N: Okay, Ron wasn't quite as bad I first said, but I really don't like him so he will get progressively worse, but this will be a gradual process. He won't have a personality transplant, don't worry.

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In Servitude of the Dark: The Hand That Guides Me