Lost Boy 07

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Lost Boy

Part the Seventh

Harry was dressed all in black when he snuck out of the floo Thursday night.  Potter Abbey was quieter than the grave and every step he made echoed off the walls.  He was afraid someone would hear him, but no one came.

Lucius was waiting for him on the other side.  He kissed Harry lingeringly there in the entryway of his family home before leading him out the door.  The moonlight was shining down on the white peacocks that littered the lawn, giving the grounds an unearthly feeling.  When they reached the edge of the property, Lucius held Harry close and they Apparated to the deserted treeline of Leeds.

“Is this it?” Harry asked.

“Wait here,” Lucius told him.  He kissed the top of Harry’s head before handing him a hood.  “Put your hair up.”  He apparated away.

Harry spun his hair on top of his head, holding it with a comb he sometimes used, and then put the hood on, which obstructed his vision.  He supposed it was to keep him from being recognized.

Lucius returned three minutes later with a Muggle in prison garb in his hands.  “This man killed his wife and daughter at Christmas eight years ago.  He offered no defense.”

The man was a little grubby with lice in his hair and Harry fought from recoiling.

Releasing him, the man fell to the ground.

“Now,” Lucius instructed.  “The first curse is the Imperius curse.  You have to want to control his mind.  Now a Muggle’s mind is weaker than a wizard’s mind, but it’s good practice.  Watch.”  He pointed his wand at the Muggle.  “Imperio!” he commanded.  He jerked his wand up.  The Muggle jerked up and stood to attention.  A second later the Muggle was dancing a jig.  “See?” Lucius told him.  “Nothing to it.  Remember.  This man is filth.  He’s nothing but a plaything.”

Harry pointed his wand at the Muggle.  “Imperio!” he commanded. 

He thought, howl at the moon!  That’s it, howl at the moon.

The Muggle sat there shivering, looking between them in slight fear.

“Try again,” Lucius told him.  “Remember.  You want him to do it.  What are you trying to make him do?”

“Howl at the moon.”

“He’s little more than a dog,” Lucius told him.  “He’s a filthy cur.”  He kicked the Muggle, who fell into himself and whimpered a little.  “Now, try again.”

Harry squared his shoulders and pointed his wand at the Muggle.  “Imperio!” he intoned.  Then, he thought, howl at the moon!  Come on, howl at the moon.

The Muggle lifted his face and howled.

“There you go, Hartwig!” Lucius complimented.  “Try something else.”

“Like what?”

“Get him to run around us in a circle,” Lucius suggested.

“Okay.”  Harry pointed his wand back at the Muggle.  “Imperio!”  Within moments, Harry had him running in a circle around them.  Soon, Harry had him clapping his hands, standing on his head, doing cartwheels, and even eating dirt.

“Very good.  Now, the Cruciatus Curse.  You want to bring this Muggle pain.  You just made him eat dirt.  Clearly you want to bring him discomfort.  It’s just a step up from that.”

“A step up,” Harry agreed, wondering if he could actually bring someone pain.  “Okay.  I think I can do this.”

“Know you can do this,” Lucius instructed.  He pointed his wand at the Muggle.  “Crucio!” he cried.  Within a second, the Muggle was writhing on the ground and screaming as if he was in the most excruciating pain.  It lasted only a couple of seconds before Lucius released him.  “Now you try.”

Harry carefully pointed his wand at the Muggle.  “Crucio!” he murmured, but nothing happened.

“No,” Lucius told him, coming up behind him and steading his hand.  “Firmer.”

Harry took a deep breath.  “Crucio,” he said a little firmer and something must have come out of his wand because the Muggle gasped as if tickled.

“Firmer,” Lucius tried, but Harry was already shaking his head.

“I can’t do it, Lucius.  I’m sorry.  I’m not like other wizards.  I can’t hurt people.”

“If you—”

“No!” Harry shouted into the clearing, breaking away from Lucius.  “Don’t change me.  Please.”  This last part came out as a whisper.  He looked up through the mask with soulful green eyes. 

Lucius looked at him carefully and reached out, but Harry flinched away.

“I would never hurt you, Hartwig,” Lucius promised.

The Muggle began to snivel, and Lucius cast a silencing charm on him and then bound him in ropes.  Turning back to Harry, Lucius reached out again and pulled Harry into a careful embrace.

“I’m sorry, my lamb.  I would never want to hurt you,” he soothed, running a hand up and down his back.  They stood there for what must have been several minutes before Lucius pulled away and looked into Harry’s eyes.  “Let me get this man back and I’ll take you home.”

“Okay,” Harry answered quietly.

“I won’t be a moment,” Lucius promised.

“If—if you have to kill him,” Harry whispered, “please don’t tell me.”

Lucius’s silver gaze connected with Harry, but he didn’t promise anything.  He disappeared with a pop with the Muggle and Harry waited in the tree line.  His breaths came ragged and Harry hated waiting.  It seemed like an age although it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes before Lucius returned.

Coming up to Harry, Lucius embraced him before Apparating back to the edge of Malfoy manor.  Harry quickly took off his hood and sucked in the night air.  The comb fell out of his hair and into the bramble, but Harry didn’t notice.

They continued up to the house where Aloysia Malfoy was waiting.  Harry recognized her from Hogwarts.

Aloysia was a very pretty witch.  She had silver eyes like Lucius, the same platinum blonde hair up in a twist on her head, and very delicate features.

“I thought the house elves were lying, brother,” she greeted.  “They said you had returned, but I didn’t believe them.”

“Als, this is—”

“Hartwig Potter, I know.”  She held out her hand for him and Harry took it, lifted it to about two inches beneath his lips and then released it in a pureblood nicety.  “I heard a rumor you had taken a companion.”  She looked up at Lucius.  “I see these rumors are true.”

“Als—”

“I heartily approve.”  She looked up at her brother.  “Good night.”  She turned and went toward the stairs.

Harry just stared after her.  “Okay.”

Lucius turned to him and ran a hand down the side of his face.  “You have nothing to worry about from my family, except perhaps my father, and he will come round.”

“Will he?”

“He will if he wants to see his grandchildren.”  Lucius leaned down and kissed him lingeringly.  “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“I didn’t realize I would react so strongly.”

Nudging his nose, Lucius pulled away.  “Goodnight, my darling.”

Harry reached up for one last kiss before going through the floo.

No one was waiting for him on the other side.  He made his way to his room and tossed his hood into a corner before getting ready for bed.  Even though he knew Lucius wasn’t coming, he left the window slightly open. 

He fell asleep to the sounds of screams in his memory.

The next morning, he slipped into James’s room.  It was 1978 and Harry was supposed to be born in 1980, but James was still in a magical coma.  Evans was in love with Harry and he didn’t think that was going to drastically change. 

“Da,” he greeted, coming and sitting on the bed.  “I couldn’t cast the Cruciatus Curse last night,” he admitted.  “Lucius took me out to teach me, but I just couldn’t do it.”

He looked up at his father, but he was just as pale and gray as he normally was. 

Swallowing, Harry looked down at his fingernails, which he’d kept manicured since the day he had first taken the metamorphmagus revelo potion.  “I wish you would wake up,” he whispered into the quiet of the room.  “I could use a father.”

The door creaked open.  “You shouldn’t be in here, Hartwig.”

Harry looked up to see Aunt Euphemia.  “It’s not catching, and he’s my dad.”

Her face softened.  “Still.  Come away.”

He got up carefully and looked down at James Potter.  He left the room carefully, not realizing Euphemia put an even stronger locking charm on the door. 

Maia and Regulus wanted to go Muggle baiting in London their last afternoon, but Harry found an excuse not to go.  After the night before, the very thought made him queasy.  Maia flooed over in the evening, all smiles and she came up to Harry’s room and flopped down on a chair.  Harry’s stomach tightened at the sight of her, remembering the Dark Lord’s obliviation.

Leaning forward, she whispered, “Regulus and I are going.”

“Oh, are you?” Harry teased.  “I guess it’s a good thing I couldn’t go this afternoon.”

“Yes, why was that?” Maia asked carefully.

“Uncle Fleamont needed me to prepare potions ingredients for a potion he’s working on.  You know I like to be helpful.”

“Hmm, yes,” Maia agreed.  “Aloysia wrote.  She said she saw you at Malfoy Manor last night.  Whatever were you doing there?”

Harry’s ears went pink.  “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Don’t you?” Maia asked coyly.  “If you say so.”  She laughed.  “Everything is so wonderful at the moment!—I tell you, though, Uncle Marvolo is acting oddly.”

“Acting oddly how?” Harry asked.

“He’s been to see Orion Black,” she told him.  “He never goes to see his followers.  His followers come and see him.  Then he went and saw Alphard Black—several times.  There were rumors that Evans was even at Headquarters.”

“She was.  I was there.  The maître d’ from The Wicked Stepmother came through and said she was a black card.”

“No,” Maia declared.  “That cannot be the truth.”

“Can’t it?” Harry argued.  “I’m a Lost Boy.  I was brought up with Muggles.  Why not her?  She’s Head Girl after all.  That means she’s clever.”

Maia took a deep breath.  “That is a point.  I hadn’t thought about that.  I just thought she was peevishly clever and Dumbledore was showing his usual prejudices.”

“He does have those,” Harry agreed, “but perhaps it’s not all that.”  His eyes cut to his hereditary parchment on the wall.

Maia’s ocean blue eyes followed his, but they slid away to the side.  She looked back at him in confusion. 

“What if I told you I knew something, but I couldn’t tell you how.”

Maia immediately looked interested.  “What do you know?”

“Evans is a Black.”

Rearing back, Maia looked incredulous.

“She is,” Harry asserted.  “She’s Alphard Black’s daughter.  Her mother was a Prewett.  That’s why she has auburn hair and freckles.”

“Surely you’re wrong,” Maia stressed.  She looked disconcerted, although perfectly poised with her dishwater blonde hair in braids on top of her head.  “You must be.”

“I’m not.  It’s sure to come out.  These things always do.”

“The identity of your parents haven’t,” Maia argued.

“That’s because I haven’t made it public,” Harry told her.  “I took the hereditary potion earlier this holiday.  You know I’ve been to The Wicked Stepmother and The Pumpkin Carriage.”  He held up his left hand to show off his simple vined ring. 

“You don’t need to know the identity of your parents to know you’re six generations.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at her.

“Who are they then?”

Harry remained silent.

Maia stared at him for several long, pregnant moments.  “You’re really not going to tell me then?”

“The Dark Lord knows,” he hedged.

“You’ll tell my uncle but you won’t tell me, your closest friend?”

“I don’t want to hurt people—” Harry told her carefully. 

“Are you illegitimate?” Maia asked sensitively.

Yes, he very nearly was. 

Harry let his eyes cut back to the hereditary parchment and let her make her own conclusions. 

“What are you looking at?”

“My family tree.”

She stood, but Harry reached for her and held her back. 

“You told me your father left you for dead.  I never pried.  I never asked why.  I never asked where your mother was.  Please give me the same courtesy.”

Pausing, Maia nodded and sat back down.  “Of course, Hartwig.  I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”

“Thank you, Maia.”  He gave her a small smile. 

They sat in silence for quite a long while neither quite looking at the other.

“Is Regulus taking you to The Wicked Stepmother?”

“Over Easter.  There isn’t really time before we go back to Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded.  “I wonder what his brother will say.”

“That I’m Death Eater scum.”  Maia widened her eyes comically.

Harry sniggered.

They parted on good terms, promising to find each other on the train the following day.

Harry wasn’t expecting another visitor that day.  He was packing his trunk when Erky came and found him to tell him that ‘Black’ was here to see him.  “Show Regulus up,” Harry instructed.

“Nots ‘Black,’” Erky told him.  “—Black.”  That certainly didn’t make any sense.

Harry went down to the receiving room and found a beautiful witch with blonde hair and grey eyes.  She was tall with the Black height and wearing pale blue robes.  She was looking at the family photographs of Euphemia, Fleamont, and James and then of Euphemia, Fleamont, and Harry.

“Who is the other boy?” she asked, turning, something in her hands.  “The one in the photographs?”

“My cousin James,” Harry answered.  “He has plague.”

She nodded.  “There was an outbreak about five years ago.”

“Yes,” he agreed.  “James fell asleep years ago.”

“At least he lives.”  Narcissa Black didn’t sound very sympathetic.

“May I help you?”

“You can tell me what you were doing at Malfoy Manor.”  She held out her hand and gave Harry the hair comb he had been wearing the night before.  “I know Abraxas Malfoy has banished Lucius from the grounds since he took up with you in December, and yet there is evidence of your presence.  That is yours, is it not?”

Harry looked down at it.  It was burnished gold and was inscribed with his name.  It had been a gift from Maia the summer before for his birthday.  “Yes, it’s mine.  I can’t answer why Lucius was there.  I didn’t know he was banished.”

“He did not tell you?”  Her voice was as cold as her face.

“No.  Thank you for returning this.  It has sentimental value.”

“You will never be never more than a whore—”

“—loved?” Harry cut in.  “Wanted?  Yes, I know.”

Her grey eyes cut through him. 

“I don’t want to fight with you, Miss Black.”

“I will be the mother of his children.”  No, no she wouldn’t.  Harry would bear all of Lucius’s children.  However, he wouldn’t show his exploding cards.

“As I said, I don’t want to fight with you.”  He turned to go.

“I am not done with you—”

“You realize I’m a fifteen-year-old wizard?” he asked her.  “I’m the age of your little cousin, Regulus.  Don’t you think you should be having this conversation with your fiancé?”  He blinked at her and wondered at the golden color of her hair.  He thought all Blacks had black hair, although Lucius had mentioned something about her blonde coloring.  Sirius and Regulus Black certainly had dark hair. 

She took a deep breath, humanizing her from the cold ice queen she had appeared earlier in the conversation.  “Mr. Potter, I am appealing to your better nature.  As you said, you’re fifteen.  You have your entire life ahead of you.  You are, if I’m correctly informed, the Potter heir.  You will have a wife of your own, children.  You don’t want to burden them with a paramour.”

“You misconstrue my intentions,” he told her softly.  She just didn’t really know how badly. 

Her face hardened again to become entirely unreadable.  “We understand each other then.”

“No,” Harry disagreed.  “I don’t think we do, but I don’t think we ever will.”  He turned to go again.  He could hear her rustling behind him, but she fortunately didn’t follow him out.  He sent Erky to her so she hopefully found her way out. 

He spent the rest of his day up a tree bundled in his furs.  He watched as the sun set and only flew back in through his window when the moon was high up in the sky.

“Hartwig.”

Harry startled.  Lucius was already waiting for him.

“What is this Narcissa tells me?”

“She brought back my comb.”

Lucius blinked at him.  “Narcissa has never been kind a day in her life.  It was undoubtedly a pretext.  She says you’ve given me up.”

“No, she said I was nothing but your paramour, and I said I had no intention of being your paramour.”  He reached for Lucius and smoothed down his collar.  “Those are two entirely separate statements.”

Lucius released a breath.  “Thank Heaven.”  He wrapped an arm around Harry and kissed his brow.  “I never believe a word that hussy tells me, but I was afraid for a moment that she had gotten to you.”

“She can’t get to me,” Harry promised Lucius as he snuggled closer.  “I’ve gone so far as to promise the Dark Lord my services.  I’m not turning back.”  He lifted his lips for a kiss.

“I’ll break it off over the weekend,” Lucius promised.  “It will be over.”

“There will be a scandal,” Harry pointed out.  “Everyone will say you’re leaving her for your young paramour.”

“I don’t care.  It’s only the truth.—And I saw that Orion Black plans to speak before the Wizengamot at the end of January.”

Harry smiled into the folds of Lucius’s cloak.  “Good.”

They divested themselves of their boots and crawled into Harry’s bed, Harry resting his head against Lucius’s heartbeat. 

“Narcissa said you’ve been thrown out of Malfoy Manor.”

“My father is suffering from a fit of pique.”

“Where are you staying?”

“One of the lesser properties.  It’s not fit for receive guests.  It’s why I snuck you into the Manor.  You deserve nothing less.  It had the added benefit that we got to see Aloysia.”  He ran his fingers through Harry’s long auburn curls.  “Let me come to the station tomorrow to see you off.”

“We’ll stoke the rumors.”

“I don’t care,” Lucius growled.  “I wish to say goodbye.  I wish to claim you as mine in front of the entire world.”

“Then who am I to complain?”

“I wrote to Madam Potter this afternoon before Narcissa pulled her stunt,” Lucius told him.  Harry could feel him smiling into his hair.  “I pick you up at nine in my automobile.”

“Sneaky,” Harry complimented.  He kissed the place over Lucius’s heart. 

“I may have called The Prophet.”

This caused Harry to look up into Lucius’s silver gaze.  He looked utterly unrepentant.  Harry settled back down. 

“Narcissa will know it’s over before you even tell her.”

“It will be a formality then.”

Harry fell asleep to the feel of Lucius’s hands in his hair.

He woke up fresh and immediately stretched his arms above his head.  He sat up and looked around.  Boleyn was sitting in his cage, ready to be taken to the station, and Harry’s trunk was all packed. 

Erky had made sausage and eggs, and Harry had a full breakfast.

Fleamont watched him fondly over his tea.

“Lucius is picking you up at nine o’clock,” Aunt Euphemia informed him.  “He’s asked to bring you himself.  I thought there was no reason to refuse as he’s assured me he’s ending his engagement formally this week.”

Uncle Fleamont puffed his pipe happily.

“You shall be riding in his motor.”

“I look forward to it,” Harry told her, taking another bite of his blood pudding.

He was ready and waiting for Lucius when he arrived. 

Lucius greeted Euphemia elegantly, lifting her hand beneath his lips, and he shook hands with Fleamont. 

“Now, Hartwig,” Aunt Euphemia told him as Lucius bundled up his trunk and strapped it on the back of the 1910s style automobile.  “I expect a letter this first week.  You’ll let me know if that Head Girl is bothering you.”

“Of course, Aunt Euphemia,” he promised, kissing her cheek.  His vined ring did not punish him as she was his grandmother and, thus, a relation. 

Uncle Fleamont shook his hand and chuffed his chin before he got into the automobile and, with a quick rumble to the engine, they were off.  Lucius honked his horn and Harry leaned out the window, waving goodbye. 

“Alone at last,” Lucius teased, wrapping an arm around Harry.

“All we are is alone!” Harry laughed.

“Well, yes, but now we have permission.”

The automobile was open to the elements, not having proper doors and only seating two.  It didn’t have a roof either, so the wind buffeted them.  They were both wrapped up in furs to combat the cold, which was just another excuse to snuggle closer.  The automobile did, however, have a windshield, which Harry found amusing.

“This is so much nicer in Spring!” Lucius promised.

“But not in rain!” Harry giggled before he stole a kiss.

The automobile did not go above thirty miles per hour, but with magic, they made good time and arrived at Platform 9¾ well before ten thirty.  Lucius found a trolley and they wheeled Harry’s trunk and owl in, but not before they discarded their furs.  They were dressed in colorful cloaks which caused some attention from the Muggles, but Harry honestly didn’t care.  He was just happy to be with Lucius.

The platform was hushed as families grouped together, too scared to be seen consorting with the wrong sort.

A flash went off and Harry looked over to see a camera and a reporter from The Daily Prophet.  “Mr. Malfoy, can we get a shot without the trolley?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged.

They loaded the trunk onto the train and then stood, half on, half off, and allowed the cameraman to get two more shots, before Lucius bid them a ‘good day.’ 

“Your name, young man?” the reporter asked before he left.

“Mr. Hartwig Potter, the heir of Potioneers Fleamont and Euphemia Potter,” Lucius replied.  “He’s sixth generation.”

The reporter, who had a bit of a moustache, gleefully wrote this down before he bowed and left. 

The clock ticked ten ‘til and Harry glanced at Lucius.  “I better get to the Prefects compartment.  I don’t want to get stuck in the crush of Muggleborns.”

“No,” Lucius agreed carefully, entwining the fingers of their vined hands.  “I’ll stay and wave you off.”

It was then that Evans entered the platform from the floo of all places in the company of a wizard who looked a great deal liked Regulus Black.  She was also wearing dark blue robes.  It seemed she had connected with Alphard Black, his grandfather and her father.

Harry nodded toward her.  “It seems like Evans has found her wizarding father.”

Lucius looked over in confusion.  “I thought she’s the witch who bothers you.”

“She is, but she’s a Lost Boy.  She’s also a Black, Narcissa and Regulus’s cousin, if I’m not mistaken.”  Harry saw her looking over at him and quickly looked away.  “Great, she’ll be insufferable now.—Promise you’ll write.”

“How could I do anything else?” Lucius swore.

They looked longingly into each other’s eyes, and then the train sounded the five minute warning.  With one last squeeze of the hand, Harry got onto the train and went in search of the Prefects Compartment.  He knew Maia would find her way there and Regulus would get a compartment with Apricot Selwyn for them for later on in the trip.

He was not looking forward to seeing Evans—he would never get used to calling her Black, even if she was probably his mother, now more likely than not—but he girded himself.  He was as good as engaged to Lucius Malfoy.  Now Orion Black just had to pass a law through the Wizengamot and Aunt Euphemia had to finish the Gnascum Potion.