Chapter 2
~A.N. All Unapologies for clichés apply~
Harry stood in his polyjuiced muggle body outside the Gaunt hovel looking out far at the Riddle Manor visible just above the crest of the hill. He had a deep frown on his face that betrayed the storm in his mind. After the initial emotional shock of the visit from Bianca and what it meant for his mission he was focusing on gathering knowledge of the world he had landed in or created. It was something to distract him from his monumental failure, once again, to save his family.
He was so angry with himself that he had cancelled his visit to check on Sirius and instead contacted Malfoy to meet him at day break. At first he did mean to run to his godfather and demand a history lesson on his family’s background, but he did not want to make him suspicious. He needed someone who wouldn’t question him or form an unfavorable opinion that could become a disadvantage. For that there was no better than an enemy under his control. A crack announced Lucius Malfoy appearance with a man tied in ropes alongside him.
“My lord,” he greeted in his perfect delivery that spoke just enough deference without complete obsequiousness. Harry, one for always presenting himself as he was, still admired the man’s skill. However, Malfoy’s ability to resist the imperius had steadily decreased to the point now that he was almost a mindless slave; and Harry needed more than that.
“Malfoy, bring him inside.” His second hand cloak caught around his legs as wind blew into him and he was glad to be anywhere inside.
Harry looked at the time on his watch hand, realizing he had only a few more minutes before he reverted to his young body. That was part of the plan. He intended to enthrall Malfoy and Avery Sr. as Harry Potter and not Neville the somewhat anonymous Death Eater.
“Drink these.” He handed two vials to Malfoy to weaken his mind and will.
He administered the same to Avery Sr. who was lying stunned on the earth floor as he observed the Death Eater for the first time. The man had gray hair on his temples and a face that showed age in its lines and sagging flesh. For all that he was a sturdy looking man, heavy set but carrying it over his whole body instead just on his middle. For a sixty or seventy year old wizard he looked in very decent shape. From what Harry remembered of Avery Jr. he hadn’t inherited his father’s looks.
He felt the change coming and went behind the kitchen area where he had left clothes that would fit his eleven year old body. Changing into them and putting on his glasses he came out watching Malfoy for a reaction. He was mildly disappointed that the dark wizard didn’t even flinch, but then again it was a testament to his power.
Harry pressed the point of his wand in the middle of Malfoy’s chest, who did not react and stayed waiting dutifully. A string of repeating Latin came from Harry’s lips in a whisper as he felt the stirring of his secret magic. Somewhere in the Department of Mysteries where they observed that terrible power it moved in sudden agitation, like a great beast’s spasming muscles. Harry felt the power move in him the same way and come to the point of overwhelming him where he coaxed it to his will. The power heeled, recognizing it was home in a human body. Far away the locked room under the Ministry shook. The Unspeakables heard it twist like a storm gathering strength but before they could raise the alarm Harry summoned it all.
The worn furniture of the Gaunt hovel shattered and the ground heaved as Harry spindled the taciturn power in himself and then with his hand and wand. As a wave he entered Malfoy’s soul, searching for what inspired him, what formed his will, the source of his happiness, and bound all of it to himself in devotion and abject loyalty.
The earth had lifted Malfoy so that he floated on a mound of undulating rock and soil within which the golden power slipped and shone. As many fine threads it reached out from Harry’s wand and the fluxing ground beneath Malfoy to enter him through his eyes and his heart, rebuilding his mind and soul to belong to Harry. Memories were changed, loyalty cultivated in mere seconds, reason remapped to obey Harry, and finally it made him into a vessel for Harry’s power. So when Harry needed he could empower his thrall to become much more and reflect the awesome devastation he the Grand Sorcerer of his time could bring to bear on his enemies.
Harry withdrew and the earth settled. The power retracted within but seemed to frolic in the forefront of his mind; it brought a true smile to Harry’s face. The power was everything from affection, and healing, to the force of cataclysms.
Malfoy blinked as if he were waking up. He drew his wand in readiness and looked around finding himself somewhere he did not recognize. Then he saw Harry and for a moment a look of bewilderment passed over his face before he kneeled. It was if the gesture was more to reach a level of closeness with him instead of servility.
“My lord, where are we? It seems there was an attack here. Are you well?” he asked in a concerned yet respectful voice. Harry was used to hearing this from his followers, the ones who he truly cared about. And here he had one in which he had manufactured that devotion like which people had given him willingly.
“Yes, my thrall. Now tell me everything you know about the fall of Voldemort and Bianca Harley Potter and her family.”
***
Not for the first time Harry knew what it was like to be outside of Dumbledore’s circle of confidants, but he had never been so far from finding the truth before. It seemed that Dumbledore kept what had happened Halloween night at the Potter home so very secret that even as well informed a Death Eater as Malfoy was he had only guesses for him.
“The Dark Lord shared his intention to destroy your family and was insulted at the thought that a half-blood girl was to be his match. It was his Hidden Hand, Mortfidèle, who brought him Pettigrew the Potter’s secret keeper. After that we do not know what happened, except your sister survived the killing curse and the Dark Lord was vanquished. We hunted for her but she was hidden so quickly and completely we could not find her. Many are curious to know if she will attend Hogwarts this year.”
“Do you know why Voldemort did not attack me?” Harry asked watching Malfoy flinch at his old master’s name.
“The Dark Lord’s Hidden Hand had already looked in the book recording magical children’s births at Hogwarts to report that the male child was not listed. At best he could have been a squib.” Malfoy shrugged. “It is obvious now that Mortfidèle was terribly mistaken. I do not know how a wizard of your power could have not been recorded in the book.”
Harry had already learned that he did in fact have an aunt on his father’s side. From Malfoy’s knowledge she was a particularly gifted Arithmancer and was being recruited by both the Department of Mysteries and treasure hunters.
“Who is this Hidden Hand you keep mentioning?”
“Mortfidèle or The Hidden Hand was the Dark Lord’s enforcer against his own Death Eaters. One day he did not exist, the next he stood at the Dark Lord’s back, his first and favorite. My sister-in-law despised how he had usurped her position.
“We never understood his position fully. I have seen him tortured worse than any other Death Eater by the Dark Lord’s own wand and I have seen him spoken to as an equal by the Dark Lord as well. I have long suspected that there was not one but two Mortfidèle. It is no doubt that Mortfidèle’s power and skill were great. He had magic I had seen only the Dark Lord himself perform,” Malfoy’s voice held respect and remembered fear of the wizard.
“And he was the one who brought Pettigrew to Voldemort?” Harry confirmed.
“Yes. Rumors were that Pettigrew was found out as a Death Eater and forced into an Unbreakable bond by Potter’s pet werewolf to not reveal the location. Pettigrew was on the run from both sides until the Dark Lord sent Mortfidèle.”
“Hmm, Mortfidèle? Sounds a lot like an assumed name. Was it meant to sound close to Voldemort?”
“I do not know, my lord, but the Dark Lord drew some amusement from calling The Hidden Hand that name.”
“And where is this Death Eater amongst Death Eaters now?” Harry demanded knowing he would be someone he would need to kill fast.
“He disappeared with the Dark Lord’s fall. We expected him to lead us after him but he simply vanished. No one knew what he looked like, what his true identity was. It is possible he leads a life untainted by his past. All my inquiries have turned up dust.”
“And what if he suddenly appeared, Malfoy? Would that test your loyalty to me?” Harry expected a favorable answer, he wasn’t disappointed.
“My lord! I desire only to serve you. My loyalty is to you only!”
“Hush, Malfoy. I believe you. It seemed you were in awe of this Mortfidèle.”
“He was an exceptionally powerful wizard, even amongst the inner circle.”
“Very well. Now are you still on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Good. I want you to inquire why I haven’t been sent a letter. Do it in such a way that it is not found out that you are the source. I trust you have enough contacts in whose ears you can whisper what you need?”
“But of course, my lord.” Lucius smiled pleased with himself.
“I wish to meet your wife, she will brought into my inner circle with you. Also, begin to educate your son to respect my family and my commands. I warn you now, the day Draco takes Voldemort’s mark is the day I will kill him.”
“My lord!” Malfoy stood up in worry.
“You will do this or he will die. There are no alternatives.” Harry let loose some of the power waiting in his mind and it slapped against Malfoy making him cringe.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Also, for Merlin’s sake, stop calling me ‘my lord.’”
Malfoy seemed genuinely confused by Harry’s request. He did not understand that while Harry had wanted a loyal and dispensable servant, he did not want to be worshipped. It bothered him to his core, much more than having subjugated the dark wizard to himself.
“What would be an appropriate way to address you, my…” Malfoy trailed off in uncharacteristic discomfort.
“Not my name, obviously. I can’t have you be in the habit of using my real name and slipping up. Think of something, anything that isn’t too grand and doesn’t point to me.” Harry made a dismissive gesture.
“Of course,” Malfoy was careful not to add an honorific, pleasing Harry.
“Now go, make certain that the book at Hogwarts is checked again and my letter sent to me. And if you hear of any planned attack on my family, inform me immediately and thwart it. Take Avery with you, I do not have time for him.”
***
As Neville the Death Eater pretender, Harry walked with Sirius to Grimmauld Place. His godfather was wearing a long muggle overcoat that hid his weak body and a cowboy hat low on his head to hide his face. He had been excited to leave Healer Worthright’s shop. But Harry was still concerned about what the black market healer had told him.
Apparently Sirius had taken a turn for the worse after he had visited him. He seemed to struggle with renewed nightmares and spoke to himself in an angry and abrasive way. Healer Worthright had withdrawn his earlier diagnosis that Sirius had come out of Azkaban mostly sane.
It added one more concern to Harry’s growing list. He had gone to visit Sirius immediately after meeting with Lucius. He had hoped that seeing his godfather would make it easier for him to think of questions he could ask to glean more about Bianca and his absentee aunt. But nothing had occurred to him.
There was also the matter of getting Sirius out of the country before his patience ran out and he escaped on his own. But before that Harry needed Slytherin’s locket. Knowing that Voldemort had as capable a servant as Mortfidèle, Harry did not want to risk any of the horcruxes being found by him. He did have to wonder what Mortfidèle had been up to all this time.
He glanced at Sirius to find him happily looking at trees, cars, and other usual things. His heart lightened somewhat. They reached the door and Sirius walked through without any trouble. Harry had known better than to try that himself; the old house had enough wards and curses on it to keep a curse breaker team happy for a decade. Grimmauld was just as Harry remembered, dark, depressing, and thoroughly uninviting.
“I can smell my mother’s perfume still. Merlin, I hate this place.” Sirius said with feeling.
“I am sorry, but we really need something from here.” Harry as Neville led into the house and up the stairs, encouraging Sirius with his own motion to get moving. He did not like how Sirius had frozen in thought; his godfather did not have good memories of his childhood home.
Harry climbed to the second floor to Mrs. Black’s bedroom where the locket rested in a French armoire. Turning the knob of the door cautiously he entered recalling the late Mrs. Black’s penchant for cursing and hexing everything in sight for fear of it being touched by less than purebloods.
A loud pop behind him made him jump and whirl around.
“Who disturbs-” the rest of the sentence was interrupted by a deafening bang.
Harry ran down the stairs to find Sirius halfway up clutching his heart, his wand pointed at a mess of blood, flesh, and indistinguishable gore.
“Son of a bitch!” Sirius roared. “Scared the piss out of me.” He was breathing fast with a steadying hand on his chest.
“Sirius, what the hell just happened?” Harry demanded, alarmed himself.
“My mother’s cursed house elf. Creepy bastard crept up on me,” Sirius complained. “Oh shit,” he said disgustedly looking at the remains.
“Creepy bastards creep, that is what they do, Sirius. You don’t kill them for it,” Harry chided patiently though his heart wasn’t it.
“Fucking place puts me on edge. Merlin, I didn’t even get to enjoy that.”
“Yeah, me too. Now let’s do both of us a favor and keep that lucky reflex killing tic in your pants.” Harry gave a repressive glare.
“Hmm. That’s not what she said.” Sirius grinned up at him.
“You’re ill, Sirius, disturbingly ill.” Harry turned to go back up.
He heard Sirius follow chuckling. He came to stand beside him as Harry contemplated the once white armoire. He could see the locket through it and was listing in his mind the order of spells to break the minor and major jinxes placed on it.
“I didn’t mean to do that,” Sirius confided regretfully.
Harry shrugged. “It happens.” He was concentrating on getting the horcrux out.
“I suppose with you ‘it happens.’”
Harry let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m not broken up about it, you definitely aren’t going to miss the elf who terrorized you on your mother’s orders. Can we please look at this as closure with your mother and move on?”
Bianca’s visit had left Harry more frayed than he admitted. Finding out she was telling the truth from Malfoy had made it worse. Knowing he had failed his family was cutting him up inside and the best he could do was focus on bringing Voldemort down. In face of all that Kreacher’s death and Sirius’s guilt over it was laughable to him.
Sirius frowned next to him, a dark look set on his face in the shadowed room. Harry resolved to apologize to him later when he was feeling more mature about being insensitive and raised his wand to cast some general counter curses.
“Neville?”
“Yes?” Harry continued with revealing charms, judging the presence of hexes by the splotches of color appearing on the armoire.
“What is closure?”
Harry clapped his eyes at Sirius and despite himself burst out laughing. “You not knowing what closure is, explains so much.” It felt good to let go of the tension.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sirius demanded, not a little miffed.
“Nothing, nothing. I shouldn’t be surprised you haven’t heard of the idea before. It just means putting things in the past, to get over it, lock it away, say it’s done and move on. Now can I please get back to work?”
“Should’ve just said ‘get over it, Sirius’ and I’d have understand you.” Sirius shot him a moody look, still a little raw from Harry’s comments.
“Noted.” And Harry went back to wiping the magic in the display armoire. “Well this is tougher than it should be. I need some light.”
“Here,” Sirius offered lighting his wand making the room awash in magic.
“Thank you. You know what, I am too irritated to do this with finesse. Concedo!” The power Harry had summoned from the depths of Department of Mysteries tore at the extremely dark protection enchantments making the armoire shudder. Only a few years ago a power spell like that would have destroyed his target instead of simply ripping the magic away.
“Impressive. You destroyed the Dragon’s Clutch. Not an easy enchantment to beat simply with one spell.” Something in Sirius’s voice made Harry look at him warily. The man was looking very intently at the locket shining in reflected light from his wand.
“You know the name of the enchantment?” Harry prodded; it wasn’t a bit of dark magic you learned unless you went looking for it.
“I am a Black,” Sirius explained, his voice somehow very wrong. “So, Neville, what are we here for?” Harry could not make out what the emphasis on his assumed name was meant to imply but it didn’t feel right.
“The decanter of blood,” Harry lied smoothly, moving in such a way that his shoulders and back hid from Sirius what he was reaching for in the armoire. With his wand he summoned the Slytherin’s locket to his pocket and with his free hand he picked up the ornate bottle holding blood. “Well we can go now.” Harry slid past Sirius and to the door. He heard a click and turned to see Sirius had reopened the armoire and was looking at the place the locket had been.
“I did not take you for a thief, Neville. I do not care for the old blood, but the locket you took is an old family heirloom. I [I]want[/I] it back.” Sirius had not looked at him. Harry surreptitiously brought his wand out of his pocket, holding it casually.
“No, Sirius. It is the blood of your ancestor in the decanter that’s a family heirloom, not the locket. I think you have them mixed up,” Harry said in forced cheerfulness.
“Be that as it may, return to me my property.”
Harry frowned; Sirius simply did not talk like that. “What is wrong with you, Sirius?”
“I do not like thieves.” Sirius came around the bed, taking off the cowboy hat on his head and leaving it on the covers. As always his shaved head and face made him unrecognizable. But something disturbed Harry much more than his appearance; Sirius was rolling his wand holding it with the fingertips of both hands – the gesture was horrifyingly familiar.
“Sirius?”
“Pity that the first breath of free air I take is in this relic of a shrine to the purity of blood. No, Neville, Sirius is my creature and I have sent him elsewhere. You will give me my locket now.” He came forward, his gait and voice having completely changed.
Harry walked backwards out of the door frame and into the hallway, leaving the constricts of Mrs. Black’s bed room. Sirius walked steadily, rolling that wand in a gesture from another wizard. He waited at the top of the stairs for Sirius to come out. A flick of his wand and every candle in the second floor hallway lit up, burning the cobwebs that had formed over them.
The yellow light glittered in Sirius’s dark eyes as he marked him coming out of the bedroom – they were no longer the gray color Harry was used to seeing. He had known what to look for and in the candles’ wash he saw snake slits in obsidian eyes; his heart sank.
“Lord Voldemort.” Harry made it a statement thought he wanted to ask if he was right.
“Yes and no, but very close. You impress me again, Neville.” The way he said ‘Neville’ was beginning to grate on Harry. “I do not wish to kill you. It is you who I have to thank for bringing Sirius so close to my possession that it woke me up. Dear Sirius can now continue serving our accord. Please, hand over the locket, so we can speak of your joining me.”
Harry’s mind furiously tried to guess at what was happening. At least Sirius had stopped near the door and was facing him at a distance of at least ten feet; a decent formal dueling length of separation. “If you’re not Voldemort, who are you?”
“How comfortably you take that name. Foolish of you. I was a shadow of the Dark Lord joined with Sirius Black; I am now equal parts of both. You may call me Mortfidèle.” Sirius bowed elegantly showing the discolored skin on the top of his head.
Harry’s blood ran cold and his mouth dropped open slightly.
“Y-you’re Mortfidèle?” he whispered.
Sirius clapped his eyes open and smiled in pleasure coming out of the bow. His familiar smile with Voldemort’s eyes, only black, made a cold shudder go through Harry.
“Strange how the name of my source does not frighten you as much as mine does. I am curious how a wizard as powerful and cunning as you is in the service of a squib. You were right to kill the Death Eaters, they were disloyal and weak. Weak just as my other self was, falling to a child. Give me the locket and I will make you my right hand, I will give you such power you will live in a state of awe of what you can command.” Sirius reached out an upturned hand and took a couple of unhurried steps towards him.
Inside Harry had forced his screaming mind to quiet and numb so he could survive the danger. “How did Voldemort join you with Sirius?” he asked trying to buy himself time to decide what to do. He had to get the wand away from Mortfidèle before he could allow himself to think of what had happened.
“I can show you, share the secrets with you, all I ask is to return to me my locket.” He stepped closer, the wand held loosely to his side and one hand raised to receive the locket from Harry.
“Voldemort doesn’t merge with those he possesses, he keeps his name, his own identify, everything; while he rots away his host. You’re not a simple invading spirit are you? Where is Sirius?” Harry took a step back creating distance that Mortfidele had shortened between them. He was on the top of the first step now, if he was going to retreat anymore he would have to take the steps down.
“An astute mind. All those secrets are yours. Now hand me the locket!” Mortfidèle clenched his open hand stalking to Harry.
“No, first, your word that you will make me your right hand,” Harry demanded throwing out a hand to halt him.
Mortfidèle inclined his head in acceptance and Harry approached him bringing out the locket from his pocket. The look of dark greed on Sirius’s face disgusted Harry. He placed the locket in Mortfidèle’s open palm keeping his hand on it and turned in to him to send a wandless expelliarmus at Sirius’s wand hand. Mortfidèle lost his wand and Harry ripped his hand back where he had placed the locket in Mortfidèle’s hand.
A scream of utter rage came from Sirius’s mouth but it was really Mortfidèle’s anger. He leapt after Harry grabbing his hand, but where his skin met Harry’s it began to burn and he pulled back with a screech. The black snake slit eyes cleared and Harry saw Sirius look through frightened.
“Neville, get the fuck away before he comes back. Run! Save Harry and Bianca, he will come for them,” Sirius shouted, running back cradling his burned hand and away from Harry.
Harry gave chase. “Are you out of your mind? I am not leaving you. How is he possessing you?”
Sirius gave him a frustrated angry look. “Fuck off before you die, you damned idiot. I can’t hold him back.” Sirius kept running into the depths of the Black Manor, going to the end of the second floor where the staircase to the third went up. Their steps thundered in the old house as they ran.
“I can save you, just tell me how he’s doing it?” Harry shouted. “Stop for Merlin’s sake!”
Sirius did just that, stopping at the top landing and looked down at Harry with a face that belonged on a broken man. “He put a conscious horcrux inside me. He stayed away in Azkaban because of my nightmares. But not anymore, Neville. Please, go,” he begged. “Ask them to forgive me.” He turned tail again.
“Sirius, Sirius!” Harry shouted, his mind reeling with the knowledge. “Just think of your friends, think of who you love, he can’t stand that. Come back!”
Harry ran down the third floor corridor, taking the sharp left into where he remembered the Black library was he saw Sirius looking for an escape. He tackled the man down to the floor and Sirius flailed against him in desperation but he was too weak physically to match the strength of Harry’s polyjuiced body.
He pinned him under him and sat on his chest with Sirius’s hands trapped by his own. “Look,” he breathed shallowly from the fight, “I can help you. Just give me a minute to think - Oh Shit!” Harry shouted as soon as he saw that Sirius’s eyes were a snake’s and he was actually holding down Mortfidèle.
Mortfidèle let out a wordless challenge and Harry was blasted off of Sirius’s body. He slammed into the ceiling and crashed to the floor where he felt something wet on his hands caught under his own body. He turned only to have time to glance down his hand to see his own blood before Mortfidèle was on top of him reaching for his pockets and overwhelming Harry with his frenzied strength.
Harry grabbed Mortfidèle’s hand that had found its way into the right pocket and circled the wrist so he couldn’t pull out the locket. Mortfidèle screeched in pain, high and thin, and hexed Harry with something that made him repel from his grip on him and go crashing into a wall. Harry slipped down with his legs splayed out and saw Mortfidèle rolling in agony holding his burned wrist with his already burned hand. Harry checked his pocket frantically and was lucky to find the locket still there.
Accio Wand! He spelled and from under the fallen bookshelves his wand rocketed to him. Black snake slit eyes turned to him as he scrambled up to his feet but by the time he approached the body Sirius was back.
“That keeps him away, whatever the hell you did there, he can’t take it.” Sirius panted.
“Just keep thinking of people you love. He possessed me once, that is how I beat him out. Let me heal you.” Harry reached for Sirius’s hands.
“No!” Sirius pulled away from him rolling back. “The pain keeps him away.”
Harry stopped helplessly until he realized his entire front was wet with blood. He took off his cloak to find his pale blue shirt crimson. A spell of dizziness hit him as he realized he had lost too much blood. A long crude gash was carved into his torso from chest to hip.
“Merlin, he did a number on me,” Harry noted dazedly.
“I will do much more next we meet!” Mortfidèle’s cold and high voice threatened and Harry snapped to him with his wand aiming where Sirius’s body had been a moment ago. Mortfidèle had disapparated, taking Sirius with him.