Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58478 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 73
- 74
- 75
Mysterious Past, Inevitable Future
Shut up in his office, hair pulled back into a ponytail that rested on the back of his head, Lucius stood over his desk, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Candlelight flickered over the papers scattered around his desk. Heart thudding hard in his chest, Lucius stared down at Pandora’s notes on souls and cores and sudden inspiration struck.
Excitement and cold apprehension combined into a queasy whole as he strode with anxious purpose to his library. There, in the back, was a cupboard warded and hidden to all except the Malfoy Head. Inside were books - dark and forbidden. He pulled out a thick tome, Secrets of the Darkest Art, and carefully opened it. Absentmindedly walking closer to the magical light burning on the wall, he found the entry he’d half-remembered.
“Tamper with the deepest mysteries - the source of life, the essence of self - only if prepared for the consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind.” - Herpo the Foul
Lucius read those words with deep respect. Herpo was one of the most revered and powerful Dark Wizards of all time. Living over three hundred years, creator of a multitude of Dark spells and rituals, first breeder of basilisks, he’d been placed on a chocolate frog card and remembered to this day.
Unknown to nearly all, he’d also created a ritual that would ensure immortality… theoretically. The Horrible Cross, the Horcrux… It might have explained Herpo’s ancient age until passing, but it did not elude Lucius that Herpo did eventually die. Due to age degrading his insanity or some unknown weakness of the Horcrux, Lucius didn’t know. All he knew was the ritual described and the dire warnings Herpo had given had led even the most staunch Dark Wizards and Witches to be wary.
Lucius read through the seven page long ritual and shivered. Intricate and dangerous, the ritual took strength and stamina and a nearly obsessive focus on immortality. Herpo concluded by describing in detail the effects of a successful casting.
Cleaving a piece of your immortal soul causes one’s being to become other. Humanity becomes a thing just out of reach, as if trapped beneath the clear surface of a lake. One can almost remember the deeper emotions, but it is lost to them eternally. It is also in part due to the dehumanization of oneself that there is some physical change that marks the loss of one’s humanity. The distance will only grow more vast with time. Is there true purpose in separating oneself from the organic universe one feared to leave? I know not. I only know once the ritual is cast and successfully takes hold, there is no return. A third side effect of Horcrux creation is that the master soul itself becomes unstable. I have a growing fear that once death inevitably comes, I fear an inability to truly cross over. Can a mere fragment possess the ability to make a final transition? I fear eternal limbo awaits my eternity.
After that cheerful warning and the very explicit statement that it was all in vain, that true immortality did not result, the spell eventually faded from the world. Nearly three thousand years later and this darkest of spells had been nearly lost to time, but it did not surprise him in the least that the Lord Voldemort had come across it. It explained so much!
It explained Lord Voldemort’s decent into madness and instability. It also explained how he’d managed to survive and how he planned to come back. All these years, a wraith - a spirit - waiting to gain the strength to perform the rituals that would return him a physical body and strength. It wouldn’t be long now, Lucius suspected, before Voldemort made a full return.
To create a Horcrux, a wizard first had to begin the ritual and prepare the mind and soul for the severing. Then they had to deliberately commit murder. This act would result in the murderer metaphysically damaging their own soul. A wizard who wished to create a Horcrux would then use that damage to their advantage by casting a spell, which would rip the damaged portion of the soul and encase it in an object. If the maker was later killed, he or she would continue to exist in a non-corporeal form, although there are methods of regaining a physical body.
Where a person’s container, their body, could be destroyed without any damage to the soul, the fragment of soul contained inside a Horcrux was dependent on the container for its existence. If the container was destroyed, so to would be the fragment of soul within it. However, Horcruxes by their nature appeared to be extraordinarily durable, as only very destructive magics and processes could truly destroy them.
Destroying a Horcrux required that the object containing the soul fragment be damaged to a point beyond any and all physical or magical repair. Horcruxes possess some last line of defense against destruction. It can sense impending threats and can act to defend itself. However, as a safety measure to protect one’s immortality, the creator would usually place powerful enchantments onto the artifact to prevent damage.
Also, the fragment of a person’s soul within a Horcrux was capable of thinking for itself and had certain magical abilities, including the ability to influence those in their vicinity. A person with an affinity for the Dark Arts would be strengthened by the influence. If a person is more emotionally vulnerable, it is possible for the soul inside the Horcrux to take control.
A memory arose: “Lucius…” the hissing voice of his Lord, the words a caress of ownership. “My most honored. Take this and guard it well. Your life and the existence of your bloodline depends on your ability to safeguard it.”
Lucius carefully returned the tome to the warded cupboard and with trembling fingers pulled out a small, black diary. He turned it over. Embedded in golden ink on the bottom right was the name: Tom Marvolo Riddle.
The Dark Lord had given an ignorant Lucius his Horcrux!
Striding to a desk, Lucius picked up a quill and opened the book. He knew writing in it would be dangerous, but Lucius was confident in his ability to withstand the effects of the Horcux. This diary contained too much knowledge to pass up. Lucius would destroy it, but first…
My name is Lucius Malfoy. Do you know who you are?
The ink disappeared and he waited with baited breath until words began to spell themselves in beautiful calligraphy across the page.
Yes. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. I have been waiting a long time for you to write to me. There is much I’d like to ask.
Lucius felt a grin stretch across his face. Let the games begin!
…
Draco had said he wanted to check something and had given Ron a pointed look before striding off in the opposite direction. Ron was one of the tallest boys in the class and Harry was just short enough that it was easy to rest his arm across the back of his friend’s shoulders. If Harry were to happen to fall again, Ron would be able to catch him for sure.
“Let’s play a game of chess,” he said cheerfully. Harry had been so busy with Quidditch practice and studying that they never got to hang out anymore.
“Yeah!” Harry answered happily. He felt bad for not spending time with his friend.
They were just reaching the portrait hole, Ron chattering away telling Harry jokes that Dean and Seamus had taught him, when they heard a voice call out Harry’s name. Ron instantly began to scowl, turning to see the Pleasant girl right behind them, Neville trailing in her wake as always.
She had four books held close to her chest. Her hair was frizzed out around her head and she looked almost frantic. “I heard the upper years saying Professor Flitwick gave them a surprise quiz today. That means he might give us one, too, tomorrow! We should brush up on our Charms notes before bed.”
Harry’s eyes went wide. “Yeah, okay.” He gave Ron an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Ron. Did you want to study with us?”
Ron gave the menace a glare, voice stiff as he answered. “No, thanks. I’d rather study on my own.”
She brushed past him as if she didn’t care about his bad attitude. Neville ducked his head and wouldn’t meet his eyes while Harry gave him another smile and wave before hurrying after her.
Ron watched his friend go, a worried frown on his face. Harry was always studying, couldn’t she see he needed a break? He looked stressed out and it was only their second month of school!
…
Lucius discarded the letter from the Puceys basically begging him for mercy. He didn’t need the distraction, honestly.
He picked some clean parchment and wrote a quick letter to his assistant, giving him the order to desist in the financial attack on the Puceys. They had learned their lesson and if Lucius continued his attack, he’d make them so desperate they’d lash out, which would require him to deal with the situation. He was too caught up in his project to care at this point. He was certain Draco had taken steps to punish their son, and, knowing Draco’s ruthless ferocity, Lucius was certain Adrian Pucey would not be making any moves against them any time soon. It was finished. He was more concerned about the diary and Voldemort’s broken soul.
Voldemort was only sixteen in the diary. He did not have as much knowledge as Lucius had hoped. However, he still had his quick intelligence and determination to shape the world into a more acceptable shape. Insanity had yet to touch him as it had his older counterpart. That led Lucius to believe the Dark Lord had created more than the diary and Harry as Horcruxes. In fact, he guessed the genius had wanted to craft six in total with the master soul making seven, the most powerful magical number. The question was, was Harry the sixth and final one? Or some number in between? There was no way to know for certain, but Lucius was determined to research Voldemort’s life now that he had a name to follow: Tom Riddle.
…
“Quiz me,” Draco ordered. He had a piece of toast in his hand as they walked quickly to their first class.
Harry was also eating toast. Draco had gotten in late the night before, so Harry had let him sleep while he got some more studying in. They’d only had time to grab a few pieces of bread, butter it, and spread on strawberry jam before rushing out to class.
“Emeric the Evil,” Harry said.
Draco thought about it and shook his head. “Killed a bunch of people, but I can’t remember how.”
Harry told him the important highlights of the warlock’s history and then said, “Uric the Oddball.”
Behind them, Hermione frowned with disapproval. She didn’t approve of cramming. Sure Draco may get a few of those questions right now, but he didn’t really know the material or understand the deeper concepts. It was basically cheating. Neville, however, listened attentively.
…
Narcissa stepped into the guest room on the east side of the manor. Golden light spilled through the window, softening the pastels and soft colors of the room. It was one of Narcissa’s favorite guest rooms, designed to comfortably house unattached visiting females. However, none of this really registered because the eye was immediately drawn to the back spot that seemed to darken the room with its very presence.
Bella sat demurely in the window seat. Thin and gaunt, she was still strangely alluring with her dark curls cut short, her big blue eyes, and sharp, angular features. In shocking contrast to the room, she wore all black. Her thick skirt pooled around her legs to the floor, the bodice tight, the sleeves long to cover the bone-white skin of her arms. The short hair still made Narcissa uneasy. It was shocking to see. Their mother had forbade them from ever cutting their hair, implying the act would somehow diminish them or make them less.
“Cissa,” Bella cooed and stood to embrace her.
Narcissa stood frozen as the darkness in the room came closer and filled her vision before thin arms pulled her against a warm body in a hug. Narcissa pulled away, placing her hands on Bella’s shoulders. She’d only managed to visit her sister after installing her in the guest room a handful of times a week. Partly due to the fact that Bella always greeted her with overwhelming affection. Narcissa had no idea how to reconcile her hurt and broken sister’s love with the fact that Bella was the one who had destroyed her and had inflicted incredible damage to her beloved son. She’d had enough time to come to terms with finding her sister, however. She wanted answers.
“Bella,” she said softly and guided her younger sister back over to the window seat. “We need to talk. Really talk this time.”
Bella let herself be guided, but she refused to relinquish her hold on Narcissa’s hand. She sat and looked up at her with trusting blue eyes framed by a messy fall of black curls. “What is it, Cissa?”
“Bella…” Narcissa took a deep breath and sat on the window seat so they’d be on a more even level. “You stole Draco from me. You stole him away and abandoned him. I need to understand this.”
Bella’s smile morphed into something more intense. Her hand tightened around Narcissa’s and a fanatical light entered her eyes. “I saved him for you, Cissa. I saved him.”
Narcissa swallowed a hot lump of rage and grief and asked coldly, “How did you save him?”
“I saw it. When I took the mark of my Lord. I saw the future of my darling nephew,” she said intently, staring straight into Narcissa’s eyes. “He was a sweet creature, Cissa. Sweet and loving with a core of strength the world not seen in ages. Such a soul, a true Black no matter the Malfoy wrapping.” Here she laughed, giddy as a young girl. Her head bowed, her features hidden by her hair. She lifted Narcissa’s hand to her lips and placed a cool kiss on her knuckles before peering up at her. “But he was to be shackled and maimed by your husband.”
Narcissa sucked in a breath and Bella practically leaped forward to frame her face in cold hands. A demented smile stretched her face as she insisted almost frantically, “But I don’t blame you, sweet sister! You would be hampered by tradition and the place of a wife beside her husband. Draco would be too afraid to tell you what he suffered as he was molded to Lucius’s expectation. Draco, the poor boy, would have willingly carved the pieces that didn’t fit from his soul, and you, sister, would not have realize what had happened until too late. You would not even know to guess that the Malfoy mold was too small for his destiny.”
“What destiny?” Narcissa croaked, caught in her sister’s gaze. It felt like Bella loomed before her, that Narcissa shrank with every passing minute.
Bella laughed, low and sultry. “I saw him, wrapped in the arms of another boy. The pleasure and completion found there became the foundation of a strength nearly overwhelming. I saw them come together, male and male, and it was not abhorrent, Cissa! It was beautiful! Draco changed the world, Cissa! He broke the chains of Light that hobble the world. He will set the world free on wings of Darkness!
“With our Lord guiding us all, we will be reborn! Draco will become a grand Duke with a male on his arm and in his bed without censure or rejection by the less worthy. The Old Ways will return and true power will be breathed into this dying world! Our Lord will not allow those like Draco - those who are broken by this rigid society - to wither! He will embrace the Truth of each soul and fan it to its potential and use it for His great purpose!”
Narcissa was panting. Shocked and shaking, she reached up to grab Bella’s hands and pull them away from her face. “Bella,” she whispered, tears blurring her eyes. Her sister was insane. “Bella, he’s found his boy.”
She giggled again, red staining her cheeks. “So soon? Has time passed so quickly? What year is it? How old is sweet Draco? And our Lord, where is our precious Lord? He has yet to come see me.”
“Bella,” Narcissa said again, imploring her sister to listen. “Bella, Draco found his boy, but he is Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, the boy who caused the Dark Lord’s downfall.”
Bella began pulling on her hands, trying to remove them from Narcissa’s grip. Her head shook back and forth in denial, an almost-growl rising from her throat.
Narcissa held tighter, voice rising. “The Dark Lord is gone, Bella!”
“He will return! He is the most powerful… the most…” she gasped, face made ugly with fury.
“He is gone!” Narcissa yelled in her face with equal fury. “And if he were to return as you seem to hope, he’d destroy Harry Potter. Destroy him and along with him my son who would never forgive him. Draco would put everything he had against the Dark Lord in an attempt to destroy him!”
Bella finally jerked away. “How could you let this happen?” she bellowed. “I did everything! I sacrificed everything! How could you do this?” She flew at Narcissa, hands up in claws, aiming for Narcissa’s eyes.
Narcissa’s wand snapped up and she cast, “Petrificus Totalus!”
Bellatrix slammed to the floor, arms forced to her side.
Tears scorching pale cheeks, Narcissa knelt by her damaged sister. “I didn’t let this happen, Bella. You did. They formed a magical twin bond overseas before Draco returned to us. There is no separating the two now. You were right. Draco’s destiny is bigger than the Malfoy mold. He is now a Dominus. On the order of King Arthur, I believe. And sweet Harry is his delicae. There is no going back, Bella. Draco is going to change the world with Harry at his side. The Dark Lord’s time has passed. I’m sorry.”
Standing, she turned and left her sister, locking the door tightly behind her.
…
Hermione stared at Harry across the library table. He looked pale and tired. It was nearing curfew and Draco was late picking them up. Draco always insisted on walking them back to the Tower whenever they studied in the library, the memory of Harry’s fall clearly still haunting him, so Harry and Hermione tried to do most of their studying near the dorms.
Tonight, however, they needed some extra books for reference to write good essays. Neville was wondering the shelves, looking for books on Herbology and Potions. He’d needed a break and was perfectly satisfied with an E unlike his O obsessed friends, so Harry and Hermione were alone.
“Harry…” she said softly, gaining his attention. “You’ve been doing really well in classes lately. You get O’s more often than not. I was just wondering…” She cleared her throat, not really sure how to ask what she wanted to know. “I just mean, you’re not pushing yourself to match me, are you?”
Harry shook his head hard, eyes wide. “No way. You’re way smarter than me, Hermione. Thank you for always helping me. I’m only doing so well because we study together.”
She flushed in embarrassment. “You’re welcome. I just didn’t want you to try so hard if that was the case. I’ve never met anyone better than me at studying before. I didn’t want you to hurt yourself trying to beat me or something.” Knowing she sounded stuck-up, she quickly added, “But that doesn’t mean I’m better overall! I mean, you’re way better at flying!”
“I’m okay at it,” Harry denied with an embarrassed blush, ducking his head. “There are people way better than me. Like Draco, Fred, George, and Oliver.”
Hermione tilted her head curiously. “If you’re not trying to catch up to me, why are you working so hard?” She frowned. “You’re not working so hard for Draco, are you?”
Green eyes looked up at her again and this time they were less open. There were always secrets in his eyes when it came to Draco. It bothered her to no end. Mostly because she’d never not understood something before.
“I want Draco to be proud of me, but I also just want to be the best I can be,” he finally answered.
Hermione scrunched her face in thought. “Does it bother you that he doesn’t feel the same way?”
Harry looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she said with a scowl, “he doesn’t work nearly as hard at his studies as you do. He just floats by. He could get really good marks if he actually tried. Doesn’t it bother you that he’s not trying to make you proud like you are him?”
“I am proud of him,” Harry answered softly, eyebrows lowering in confusion.
“But why? He makes you work so hard for his approval and you just give it to him for nothing,” she hissed. “It’s not fair.”
“Draco’s amazing,” Harry told her firmly. “He works really hard on stuff. Just because he can’t tell you what he’s doing, doesn’t mean he’s not working hard or that it’s not important. I’m really, really lucky to have Draco, Hermione. You don’t understand, so don’t talk about Draco, okay?”
Hermione flushed hotly. Harry was normally so sweet and kind. He cared about everyone and was really attentive. He and Neville were the nicest people she knew, so it always made her feel like she’d done something wrong when he got mad at her. Well, mad for him anyway. It wasn’t like he was mean or yelled, but she felt put in her place just the same.
Frowning, she turned her attention back to her essay.
…
Remus looked up from the book he was reading when there was a knock on the door. He saved his place and made his way slowly to the front of the cottage. Opening the door, he kept his face neutral as he saw Albus Dumbledore standing on his doorstep.
“Headmaster,” he said softly. “Come in.”
Dumbledore smiled, the sun glinting off his glasses. “Thank you, Remus, my boy.” As he ducked his head to step inside and the front door was shut behind him, he turned to his former student. “I feel remiss in welcoming you to Hogsmeade. It has been a busy three years, but that is no excuse. How have you been?” he asked jovially.
Remus was thiner. He moved stiffly and there were healing cuts along his hands and face, but he looked incredibly well considering it was the day after his transformation. Usually he would be on the floor unable to move for a good twelve hours after the moon had set and hardly able to do more than crawl into a bed for another twenty four after that. There usually was more physical damage to his body to be seen as well.
Remus gave him a polite smile and gestured him to the small couch in front of a fireplace. Fall had come and even during midday there was a chill in the air. “I am well. Would you care for some tea?”
“That would be lovely,” Dumbledore agreed and took his place on the couch.
He looked around as Remus made himself busy in the kitchen. The cottage was cozy and well-kept. The only place that was unorganized was the large desk by the window with books and papers scattered about. Dumbledore scanned a few of the titles on the spines and noted they were all American in origin and revolved around Shamanism.
Smile in place with eyes twinkling, he accepted the hot cup of tea Remus brought to him before sitting in the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Interesting field of study.”
Remus tilted his head curiously. “I’m aware it is considered an uncultured field and would not be looked on well here. It’s more for my personal knowledge than for any academic acclaim from my peers. I was able to witness several acts of shamanic magic while overseas and have grown quite fascinated.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said amiably, sipping his tea. “I for one would love to read any papers you write on the topic.”
Remus smiled at that. “Thank you, sir.”
“How are you settling in?” Dumbledore asked.
“Well enough. I’m on speaking terms with most of the villagers, but I do not go out of my way to invite a closer acquaintance,” he said easily with a shrug. “I’m so used to moving from one place to the next. I guess old habits are hard to break. Honestly, I’m quite content left on my own to study. I’ve never owned a home. It’s been peaceful.”
“Good, good.” Dumbledore took another sip of his tea before easing into the subject that brought him. “The boys are equally settling in to Hogwarts. There have been a few instances, but I feel they are behind them now.”
Remus eyed the old wizard for a long moment before saying, “That’s good to hear.”
“In fact, just recently there was an act against those who may have hurt Harry.” Dumbledore gave the younger wizard a frank stare. “I was wondering if you knew anything about that?”
“No, Headmaster,” Remus lied easily. Protective instincts surged through his veins. “Was it in the papers? I don’t read the Prophet much.”
“No,” Dumbledore said softly, his eyes shaded with disappointment. “I had a feeling you may know more about it, perhaps due to your correspondence with Draco…”
Remus gave a frown before nodding. “I had forgotten. Draco had mentioned that. He said people think he did it? But it sounded far-fetched so I put it out of my mind. Should I be worried?”
Dumbledore set his tea down, his whole posture changing. “Yes. I believe you must. If Draco did have a hand in the attack, it was shocking and brutal. Especially from the mind of a such a young boy. I fear what could occur if he should be allowed to develop unchecked. Remus, these boys are crucial to the survival of our world. We must be sure they grow appropriately.”
Remus sat back, a look of sympathy on his face. “I understand, Headmaster. I do. Draco can be cruel. However, I thought we were making progress in softening his outlook. I will do my best to reach him. You said the attack wasn’t in the news? I hope that means the boy was not seriously hurt?”
Dumbledore sighed. “He was scared out of his mind. Physically he is well, but it will be a while before he is fully recovered.”
“I can’t help but wonder why you are so concerned for his wellbeing,” Remus said softly, an almost unnoticed glow about his amber eyes. “The boy tried to murder a fellow student. That is as brutal as anything Draco has done.”
“He does not have the fate of the world on his shoulders,” Dumbledore said firmly, looking at his former student over his glasses. “His poor decisions do not effect the world as Draco’s does.”
Remus disagreed strongly. Had Adrian Pucey killed Harry - the mere thought made Remus want to vomit and his heart begin to race - the fate of the world would have sat very much on his shoulders. Pucey would have started a chain of events that would have ended in destruction. By attacking Pucey in turn and making it clear such attacks on Harry were unacceptable, that destruction was hopefully prevented. Could the Headmaster not see that? It was baffling to Remus who could see it so clearly.
He spent the rest of the visit making polite small talk, even brushing on a few of his topics of study. Inside, he was watching and waiting, much as a wolf would who was stalking prey. Dumbledore was beginning to have doubts regarding Draco. He could become troublesome.
…
Draco had missed Quidditch practice for the last four days and Oliver made it clear, great flyer or not, if Draco didn’t make it to at least a few practices a week, he’d be removed as reserve Seeker. Harry was really excited that Draco had decided to join him that morning. He was determined to show him how hard he’d been practicing.
They always started practice by running a mile. Harry ran as hard and as fast as he could. He felt almost like puking when it was over and bent over his knees, heaving in air.
Oliver clapped him on the shoulder. “Good job, Harry! Took another twenty-seven seconds off your time!”
Harry grinned, pale and red-faced at the same time, and looked up at Draco.
Draco lifted a single eyebrow, his lips curled up in a smile. He’d come in a good forty-seconds after Harry. He was panting as well, sweat dripping down his face. “Good… job… Harry!”
Harry beamed proudly.
Next they did sprints. Harry was ahead of Draco during most of them, but soon Draco was directly at his side, and then on the last two Draco passed him. Flinging themselves down onto the grass of the pitch, chests heaving, they tried not to die.
“Still… beat you…” Draco eventually panted.
Harry nodded. Draco was so amazing! He only came to about a third of the practices that Harry did and he was still able to mostly keep up and even beat Harry.
Draco wasn’t as impressed with himself. He knew Harry’s endurance would always be fundamentally weaker because of the long-term starvation he’d experienced with the fucking Dursleys. It infuriated him every time he saw the evidence of Harry’s mistreatment, and he reminded himself again to make sure Harry was eating well during meals.
Oliver blew his whistle and they mounted their brooms for flying practice and maneuvers.
Draco and Harry shared fierce grins as they shot up into the air together.
It always surprised everyone else on the team how hard Draco and Harry went against each other. They were so close, nigh inseparable, and yet they almost looked like they were trying to kill each other over the snitch.
…
Lucius tapped the quill tip to the diary’s surface. In the week or so since he’d started his quest to find information on the life of one Tom Riddle, he’d learned absolutely nothing. It was as if all record of him was gone. Ink dripped onto the page and disappeared.
You’ve been gone a long time. Has something happened? words appeared onto the page.
Lucius figured he had nothing to lose. I could find no records of Tom Riddle anywhere.
You doubt my validity? You think I’m a false personality? There was a pause. Let me show you who I am, or should I say who I was?
How? Lucius wrote suspiciously. Suddenly the pages seemed to glow. Lucius pulled back but not quickly enough. He was sucked into the pages and was brought face-to-face with a sixteen-year-old version of his former Lord.
The teen was handsome. His eyes were bright with intelligence and mirth. “Hello, Lucius,” he drawled. “I’d be most interested to learn of Lord Voldemort. I have the distinct impression that you know of him.” A persuasive smile softened his mouth as he linked his arm through Lucius’s. They were nearly the same height. Tom only an inch or so shorter. “Would you like to see the Chamber where I thought up the name?”
“Slytherin’s Chamber?” Lucius whispered in awe. They were standing in a hallway at Hogwarts. It looked remarkably real. He reached out to touch the wall, but Tom had begun walking forward, pulling him along.
“The very same,” the teen drawled.
…
Ron cornered Harry before he disappeared in some nook somewhere with Longbottom-Pleasant. “You want to play a quick game of Exploding Snap with Dean, Seamus, and me?”
Ron had thought about inviting Draco, too, but the blond was currently sitting on a window seat across the room with the twins. Ron scowled. The last time he’d tried to interrupt the three of them, Fred had called him stupid baby names and George had basically told him to butt out. It had left Ron angry for days! They were his brothers! Why were they so nice to Draco and never nice to him? Not that Ron wanted their stupid attention! Fred and George were mean and annoying; Draco could have them!
“Sure,” Harry agreed, but he looked distracted. His hair was messier than normal as he ran his hands through it restlessly.
Ron put on a smile to cover his worry. “Great! Come on!” He grabbed Harry’s wrist and pulled him over to the fire.
Dean playfully shoved Seamus in the shoulder. “You lose on purpose just because you like the explosions.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t lose on purpose. I’m just that bad at this game,” Seamus countered with an exaggerated face of disappointment.
Ron laughed at them and took his turn. Harry was next and he looked over, but the boy was staring into the fire.
“Harry…” Ron snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face. “Are you tired? You’ve been studying an awful lot.”
Harry blinked and turned a smile Ron’s way. “I’m fine! Sorry, Ron. I was just thinking.”
“About Draco? Where’d he run off to?” Dean asked curiously.
Ron looked over and sure enough Draco and the twins had disappeared.
“He likes to explore the castle,” Harry lied easily. “Hogwarts is pretty amazing, isn’t it?”
Harry didn’t feel bad about lying. Draco was busy and the others would only slow him down, even if their intentions were good. Harry just wished he was stronger so that he could help Draco more. All he could do at this point was bring food back to the dorm if Draco missed a meal, keep their room clean, get better at Quidditch, and help Draco relax whenever he had a spare minute, but none of that really mattered. What really mattered was the battle between Draco and Quirrell. Harry wondered how strong he’d have to get before he would be able to stand at Draco’s side.
“Yeah, it really is!” Seamus exclaimed, his accent still unfamiliar to Harry’s ear. “We’ve been looking for secret passages and we found one near the Astronomy Tower. Maybe we could show Draco sometime.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Harry pulled a card and flung it down. It didn’t explode. “I bet Draco’s already found it though. He’s pretty good at exploring.” He also had access to a magical map, but Harry knew better than to share that secret.
“Then maybe he could show us a few secret places,” Dean suggested. He flung a card down and it exploded, making all four boys jump and laugh.
“Harry!”
Ron looked over with a dark glare, but Longbottom-Pleasant seemed immune.
“I looked over your essay like you asked. I found some punctuation and spelling errors, and you need better transitions. You’ll have to rewrite it.”
Harry got up and accepted the parchment. He ran his other hand through his messy hair, clearly upset with himself. “Thanks, Hermione. I’ll go fix it right now.”
Ron got to his knees and grabbed the girl’s wrist before she could wander off. He waited for Harry to get out of earshot and said hotly, “He could’a just scratched out the mistakes. Why can’t you leave him alone? He needs a break.”
She yanked her wrist out of his grasp. “He wants to do well, unlike some I could name. I’m being a friend and helping him with his goals. What’re you doing besides wasting time playing a stupid game?”
Her tone was thick with accusation and disapproval and Ron’s face went red with fury, but before he could scream at her, Dean and Seamus grabbed him by each arm and pulled him back down.
Chapter end.
A/N: Kind of a filler chapter, I know, but the stage has been set. The following chapter will be more action-packed, promise.
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Freedom Bound in Chains