The Erlking

Someone i know.... went too fast around a corner yesterday in their car... flipped over a ditch... rolled through a field... and broke his shoulder. Ouch! It's less embaressing, i suppose, than breaking your collerbone falling off a roundabout in a kids park - like i did when i was eight... Hope Jordan gets better then...!



Someone asked: Audenarde – Pronounced: Ow-Den-Arde (arde like hard).

Thanks for waiting so long. I had exams, for uni, and they were important. I probably failed but enough about that – onto the next chapter.
Still have one exam to go, tomorrow (Friday), but I was in withdrawal… I had to write something!

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Words: 4,029
Chapter 12
The World Awaits
August 12th 1996

In fairytales, when the princess falls asleep forever, she’s woken with a kiss from her prince. True loves first kiss is said to be the most powerful of all magic. Just one kiss from your beloved was enough to satisfy a person’s lust for a lifetime in a fairytale land. Harry might have agreed. After all, first everythings are important: first kisses, first times, first impressions. However, he had to disagree on the powerful magic part.

A wave of Voldemort’s wand later, and Harry was watching some real powerful magic happen, with astounding results. He giggled softly as a stream of water jetted from the tip of Voldemort’s yew wand. The Dark Lord himself shot out of the bed, a high-pitched scream – a mixture of rage and surprise – burst from his mouth. Narrowed red eyes turned to Harry, narrowing further as Voldemort ran a wet hand through his wet hair.

“What was that in aid of?” He growled, snatching the wand from Harry and casting a drying spell. If it had been anyone else, anyone apart from Harry, they would have been crucioed to death already. His freehand clenched around his now-dried robes as he tried not to launch himself at his beloved. As annoying as Harry could be, Voldemort had rather grown too fond of the boy to kill him now.

Harry smirked, and with a bounce in his step headed towards the door. “I wanted to wake you in style, fair princess.” Harry smirked as he listened to Voldemort banish the wet bed sheets. He pulled the door closed behind him before laughing. That would serve Voldemort right. Harry had chosen to sleep on top of the wardrobe again, but sometime during the night Voldemort had levitated him down, and tied his hands to the bedposts. It had taken Harry ten minutes of squirming, the fear of waking Voldemort strong within him, before he had wriggled out of his silken bindings.

By the time Voldemort arrived for breakfast Harry had already told Sirius how well that spell had worked.

“Black,” Voldemort groused. “I should have known.”

“Hey!” Sirius defended himself, pouting cutely at Harry, who giggled. “Someone has to teach him the important pranking spells!” Voldemort snorted and sat down. Three mouthfuls into his breakfast, Voldemort noticed the addition to the table. Along with the Malfoys, Harry, Black and Lupin, Fenrir Greyback sat, smirking at the Dark Lord in his half-arrogant-half-subservient way.

“Greyback,” the Dark Lord hissed out between clenched teeth, not quite having forgiven the werewolf for disrespecting his orders during the full moon. Fenrir’s smirk merely widened, the corners of his lips stretching a little further apart to flash his fangs. His mouth opened even wider, however, as he began to scream, a ‘Crucio’ falling from the Dark Lord’s angry tongue.

“Stop,” Harry mumbled. While he may have been a vicious killer in his own right, he had never been taught the Unforgivables by Remus – who was unable to perform them – and since he had started living in Malfoy Manor, he had come to realize a lot of Voldemort’s followers had mastered those curses, and they made Harry uncomfortable. They weren’t natural. Harry shrugged to himself: then again, any form of torture where there was no blood was unnatural in his opinion as well.

Voldemort frowned at the pale teenager, but ended the spell nonetheless. Harry had only been there for two weeks but he was able to order Voldemort around like no one else had ever dared to. And, strangely enough, Voldemort honestly didn’t seem to mind, much.

“Are you enjoying your breakfast?” Harry asked, trying to make polite conversation.

Voldemort just leered at him, “I had hoped something a little different would be on the menu.” Harry flushed as Voldemort finished in Parseltongue. “I would have preferred breakfast in bed, with you on the menu.”

“At your mercy no doubt,” Harry whispered with a snort, rubbing his wrists unconsciously. Voldemort continued to eat, a half-smile playing at his lips. No matter how often Sirius prodded him, Harry couldn’t bring himself to tell Sirius what Voldemort has said to him. His cheeks flamed at the thought of Sirius knowing. He did not normally become embarrassed. Living among the Erlking and his ilk had left him slightly emotionally stunted but he did not mind. Embarrassment was a weak emotion anyway. However, Sirius was family. He had no problem being naked in front of his victims and the Huntsmen, and even Remus did not faze him. But Sirius was family, and every child – deep down – feared their parents walking in on them naked. Harry shuddered at the thought, a scary image of Vernon walking into the shower, while Harry was in the shower, naked and wet and appetizing.

Voldemort caught the shudder and smirked, “excited Harry?”

“Traumatised, so traumatised.” He swallowed a drink of water, “such bad mental images,” the look of disgust on his face made Sirius burst out laughing. At Voldemort’s glare, Sirius shoved a napkin into his mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

“Go get ready.” Voldemort said sneering in Sirius’ direction. He mentally chanted, ‘don’t kill the godfather, Harry will hate you’ over and over as he continued to eat. “The Malfoys are taking you to Diagon Alley.” The three Malfoys looked a little green at this statement.

It had been almost four days since the full moon, and Draco was still afraid – except Malfoys don’t do ‘afraid’ – to go near Harry. Let’s just say he was ‘wary’. After all, he was almost eaten by a pack of ravenous, flea-bitten werewolves. Draco was the first to stand up.

He looked Harry up and down, “I suppose you haven’t got any money?” He looked to the Dark Lord. Voldemort’s left hand was outstretched, a small golden key lying in the palm of his hand.

“Oh, thanks, but it’s fine.” Harry smiled softly, pulling a key out from under his robes, hanging off of a thing silver chain. “I have money.” Voldemort’s fist clenched around the key, and the arm drew back.

“Very well. Enjoy your day.” He stood up, breakfast half-eaten, and swept from the room. He didn’t know why he cared, but he did. Harry was his now, he was meant to be able to provide for him, like the Erlking had done for years. How dare Harry reject his offer. With a scowl, he slammed the door to his study and threw himself down in the chair. When he looked up, a moment later, Harry was perched on the corner of his desk. “How did you-?”

“We must speak.” Harry brushed back his hair; it was long and rust coloured again. From his head, sprouted two curved horns. The young man did not look happy. “Your emotions confused, Marvolo.”

Voldemort snorted. “The confuse me too.” He paused, a hand reached out for Harry but drew back before touching. Harry merely smiled back. “I do not feel. Even as a child, if I felt, it was anger, rage, jealousy or hate.”

“Then you do feel.” Harry said simply.

“Not like this!” Voldemort stood from the chair, his voice raised. His hands clamped on Harry’s shoulders. “I am not meant to feel like this! Fondness, joy, amusement, I even like you. Like of all things.” He growled softly, but released Harry. “Dark Lords do not feel.”

“Then, maybe you are not a Dark Lord?” Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, the red irises blazing in anger at Harry’s words.

“I’ll show you dark,” he muttered as he raised his wand. “Crucio!” He cried, but the spell went straight through Faun. For, where the boy had sat, now wafted only fog. The door closed with a soft click, and Voldemort threw his wand at it, half wishing it would fly through the wood and hit the departing teenager in the head. The other half of him felt happiness that the spell had not struck his beloved.

He sighed, and sank back into his seat. He had a lot to work through before he spoke to Harry next.

XXX

The idea of bringing someone, anyone, willingly through every shop in Diagon Alley dispelled any thoughts of anger or fear from Draco’s mind. He happily held Harry’s hand, dragging the boy into one shop after the other. The elder Malfoys watched warily, following behind them at a sedate pace. Sirius was with them, enjoying his newfound freedom. He smiled, laughing with Remus, and even on occasion with Severus, pointing out people he used to know before his imprisonment.

“Honestly Black.” Severus snarled, “You used to know me as well, what of it?” He rolled his eyes, honestly not understanding the nostalgia that Black seemed to have about him, wearing it like a robe. He snorted and walked closer to the Malfoys instead.

“Don’t mind him,” Remus whispered. Remus’ eyes, no matter who he was talking to, were fixed on the beloved boy. Remus prided himself on keeping Harry safe when the Erlking was not around, and this time, he swore, would be no different. “Faun,” he called, “not so fast.”

“Draco will take care of him,” Lucius drawled, confident in his son’s ability to protect the other boy.

Remus snorted, “Harry doesn’t need taking care of. I just don’t want anyone to notice him.”

Harry turned back and smiled. His black hair hung in his eyes, and Remus sighed, wishing there was a way to make the hair rust coloured without making the horns appear as well. He looked too much like James with black hair. A simple glamour charm was too easy to break. He sounded a rather lot like Alastor Moody, he knew that, but that was beside the point. If Albus got hold of Harry, Merlin knows what would happen.

Neither the Erlking, nor Voldemort would be happy at any rate.

Draco pulled Harry into Olivander’s wand shop. Harry tried to read the sign above the door, but Draco dragged him inside too fast. Harry’s eyes were fixed on the corner of the room where Olivander stood. Draco looked around and groaned. “That man is never here when you need him.”

“He’s over there,” Harry said, loudly, before Olivander could announce himself.

“Draco Malfoy, dragon heartstring core, flexible, good for hexes.” He turned to look at Harry, and bowed from the waist, his hair falling over his shoulders to brush the ground. “It is an honour, beloved. I suppose you’re here for a wand then,” he said, standing back up.

They went through boxes and boxes of wands, Draco losing his patience, and Olivander becoming distressed.

“I would have said this one,” he held a box forward, “but, now, I do not know.” He caressed the box lovingly for a moment, then took the lid off and held the wand out. Before Harry could take hold of it, Olivander stepped back. “Holly and phoenix feather, brother wand to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” He was talking more to himself than to Harry. “I was informed, a long time ago,” his eyes fell on Draco, as well as the adults who had entered the shop while Harry was trying the other wands. “Perhaps we could talk alone, beloved boy?”

“Call me Faun.” Harry said as he followed Olivander, and the wand, into the back storeroom. More wands were piled up, high above the lone desk that sat beneath the only other window in the shop. Olivander took a seat at the desk, and Harry perched on the corner. The wand, back in its box, was left on the desk, in the centre.

Both men watched the wand for a moment. It seemed to shake lightly in the box, wriggling side to side, making the box shift across the desk, inching towards Harry. “The wand chooses the Wizard,” Olivander said with a smile. “So perhaps this is still your wand?”

“What were you going to tell me?”

“A long time ago, I was told that this wand would be yours. I would have made you try others first of course. Wands are my life, I pride myself on helping the wand chose the correct Wizard.” He paused. “I couldn’t give you a wand if it was not meant for you. There could have been a better wand among all the others.” He ran a hand through his hair and smiled at Harry. “This wand core shares a feather from a phoenix who only shed two. Two tail feathers in two separate wands. Voldemort owns the other, and you, it seems will own this one.”

“Why?”

“Because you are connected.” Without permission or a request, Olivander’s hand came out to brush along the lightening bolt-shaped scar. “He was great. Terrible, of course, but he did great things. As you will, I’m sure.”

“Connected how?”

Olivander sighed. “Do you know what a Horcrux is?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded and said. “It is an object which contains a piece of a persons soul. By splitting the soul, you render yourself less human, but you are given extra lives as it were. Each time you die, you may come to life again with the aide of your Horcrux. No one has dared make more than three.”

“Until Voldemort.” Olivander smirked. “He made seven, including himself. Although, he does not know this, he made one more.” The old man’s eyes were fixed pointedly on Harry’s forehead. “Your scar connects you, in the same way your wands are connected. You share a core, a soul. The person, who came to me a long time ago and told me to give you this wand, came back when you should have begun your first year at Hogwarts. He told me this wand would no longer be yours as you no longer were a Horcrux.”

Harry frowned, “I’m not?”

“Oh you are, you are, if the wand says you are.” He pushed the box forward and Harry hesitantly picked up the wand. He waved it, and moss and ivy began to climb up the walls and across the ceiling, entwining around the light fixture. Another flick of the wand caused small rose buds to spring up, along the ivy, before they bloomed and then died. The rotten petals fell from the ceiling and floated down onto Olivander’s head. “Yes, I dare say, this is your wand.” He used his own wand to vanish the dying plants. “You are fascinating,” he murmured as Harry stood from the desk.

“I am still a Horcrux?” Olivander nodded, “and how would I go about removing it?”

“You would need to die. But I cannot guarantee your soul would not die as well.” Harry nodded his thanks, and leaving Olivander in the back room, headed towards his party.

“You learn something new every day,” he whispered to Remus before allowing Draco to drag him off again.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. It was only when they were passing by a boarded up show that used to belong to the Weasley twins that someone took actually notice of them. A gasp left the woman’s mouth, and her hand flew to her chest.

“’Arry Potter!” Her husband called, noticing where she was staring. “Death Eaters have ‘Arry Potter!” He cried again. His wand was pointed at Severus. The wife pointed hers at Sirius.

A handful of Aurors approached them. Aurors had taken to patrolling the Wizard only areas since Voldemort’s return. They figured he would most likely launch any large-scale attacks in Wizard only zones to save time Obliviating the Muggles. “What’s this then?”

“Is that Sirius Black?” One of the other Aurors asked. Black had been broken out of Azkaban, but not cleared by the Ministry. Fortunately, Remus had enough sense to cast minor glamour on Sirius before they left.

“I am a Black, but not a Sirius.” Sirius drawled with a wink at the female Aurors. “Name’s Armadas Black, very distant cousin of the lovely Narcissa Malfoy.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her forward, “wave distantly-related-cousin-of-mine.” She glared at him, but the Aurors smiled and diverted their attention to Severus.

“He was vouched for by Albus Dumbledore!” One cried, “He can’t be a Death Eater!”

“But he is Harry Potter,” the female breathed taking a step towards the dark haired boy. Draco’s hand tightened around Harry’s. “Get Albus.” She ordered.

Harry looked to Remus. The werewolf looked distressed, his eyes darting around frantically trying to find a way to escape before Dumbledore appeared. Severus frowned as well. He vowed silently that no one would harm Lily’s son, despite the fact that the boy was able to take care of himself.

“Do not do anything,” Severus hissed, “that you do not have to.” Harry took that to mean ‘don’t turn into a Faun or a fawn either’. Dumbledore appeared soon enough, smiling benevolently at each of Harry’s party in turn.

“Ah Remus, so glad to see you aren’t harmed.” He held a hand out, obviously expecting Remus to take it, and come back to the Light side. Remus merely watched him, calculatingly, his gaze filled with mistrust. “Harry, my boy, finally safe! Well done Severus.” The Malfoys looked at him with confusion, having had no idea he was a spy.

“I always endeavour to do my best, Albus, but I believe I outdid myself this time.”

“No doubt my child, no doubt. Come now Harry.” Severus was standing by Dumbledore’s side; he frowned harder as members of the Order arrive. They formed a circle and began to close in on the Malfoys, Remus, and Sirius. But Harry was no longer there.

A thin fog shimmered lightly beside Draco, but Faun was standing eight feet away, slowly inching back towards Olivander’s wand shop. “There he is!” Tonks screamed, her wand pointed after him. She accidentally let out a cutting hex, which fortunately missed Harry, but unfortunately cut through the metal pole holding the sign to the wall. The sign, proudly stating ‘Madame Malkin’s robes for all Occasions’ fell down, right on top of Harry. He groaned, and tried to stand. Winded, he fell back to the ground.

Dumbledore took hold of the boy’s arm, and pulled him up. “There you go my lad.” Harry groaned and rubbed his head. Dumbledore smiled. Harry’s movement had brushed back his fringe for Dumbledore to check whether the scar was really there or not. “Come then Harry. Let us go.”

Fortunately, Lucius had been slyly running his fingers over his Dark Mark, while all of this was happening. He may not be overly fond of the scary boy, but he knew the Dark Lord would be enraged if Harry was taken.

Back at Malfoy Manor, Voldemort frowned. He felt a tingle of magic creep over him and run down his spine, making him wince lightly. Something was wrong. One of his Death Eaters was trying to warn him of something. While Voldemort may call a Death Eater by making their mark burn, he himself did not have a mark. Instead, his followers could use their mark to alert his magic, his own essence, that there was a problem. Voldemort closed his eyes and sought out the foreign thread of magic, matching to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius, who was with Harry, which meant something was happening to Harry.

A click of his fingers later, and Bellatrix was by his side. He touched her mark, and summoned his other followers. “Attack Diagon Alley, and bring me back Harry Potter, unharmed.”

Just as Dumbledore was about to trigger a Portkey to number 12 Grimmauld Place, a Cruciatus brought him to his knees. Bellatrix Lestrange cackled as Dumbledore bit through his lip, trying not to scream as Bellatrix cursed him again. Harry winced. He really didn’t like that spell.

He slipped away from the two of them. Hidden in the threshold of another shop he watched as Voldemort’s followers battled the Order. Two weeks was not enough time for Harry to grow used to things like this, and he was feeling uncomfortably out of his depth. Severus’ hand closed around his arm. The man concentrated on the position of the Dark Lord, and allowed his mark to bring them both there. Harry fell to his knees when they landed and Voldemort immediately dropped beside him. The elder Wizard pulled Harry to his chest, holding him tightly, and Severus watched them, wishing he had thought to hold Lily’s son first. He clenched his fists, and settled for running his fingers through the beloved boy’s hair. He didn’t stop, even when the other Death Eaters arrived, along with Sirius and Remus. Voldemort pulled back though before placing a soft kiss to Harry’s lips, and Harry let him.

Remus met Harry’s gaze and sighed in relief. Apart from a bump on the head, and maybe a concussion that Severus could heal, Harry was unharmed. He was safe again, and Remus berated himself for letting Dumbledore that close to his cub. Never again. He knew Severus was thinking the same thing.

XXX

The Order of the Phoenix always met at number 12 Grimmauld Place. The house had belonged to the Black Family, but when Sirius was made Lord Black he no longer had any family members, and he had no wish to live in the awful house of his childhood. So he had given it to the Order. The Fidelus Charm protected the house, and only Dumbledore – the secret keeper – could tell people where it was.

Upon Sirius’ arrest, the Auror Department of Crime Proceeds froze all of his properties and monies. Fortunately for the Order, most people still trusted and believed in Dumbledore. He had defeated his old lover, Grindelward after all. So, the Aurors happily signed over the deeds to number 12 to Albus Dumbledore. As Harry had been named Sirius’ heir, and Albus had appointed himself manager of Harry’s vaults until the boy was of age, Albus had merely signed for Harry in lieu of gaining Sirius’ permission.

The House of Black no longer belonged to them.

Albus sighed and ran a hand wearily over his face. “Severus has flooed me, informing me he will be unable to attend. Voldemort has ordered him to take care of business.” A few members muttered mutinously at this. “Nonetheless, we will proceed.”

“What about Harry?” Minerva called.

“And Remus?” Tonks added, still in love with the werewolf.

“The way to save Harry, I believe, is to defeat Voldemort.” Some of the Order rolled their eyes, and others mumbled to themselves. “Voldemort created seven Horcruxes, including the soul within his own body. If we collect and destroy these items, Voldemort will be vulnerable and as easy to kill as any other human.”

“So we have to destroy pieces of his soul?” Kingsley Shacklebolt asked sceptically.

Albus smiled, “no, we destroy the item housing the soul fragment. I have narrowed it down. Slytherin’s ring, and Slytherin’s locket. The ring I have already taken care of. The locket is somewhere in this very house. An item of Helga Hufflepuff, in the possession of Bellatrix Lestrange at present.”

“Problematic,” Minerva scowled.

“An item of Ravenclaw’s, somewhere within the walls of Hogwarts. Nagini of course is a Horcrux too. And, including Voldemort, the diary used to open the Chamber of Secrets briefly a few years ago and resurrect Voldemort makes seven. The diary was destroyed when it was put into use.” He smiled at the faces of the Order members. They all looked horrified and daunted. Like they were being asked to perform an impossible task. “That leaves us with five to go.”

He did not count the fragment lodged within Harry’s scar. Knowing the Erlking, which Dumbledore thought he did, and being as possessive as the Erlking was, the piece of Voldemort’s soul would have been removed and destroyed years ago. He was wrong however. The Erlking did not tempt the Fates: he merely did his job. If the Fates deigned that Harry was to belong to Voldemort, then the Erlking endeavoured to place Harry into the Dark Lord’s hands – while making it seem like his choice, of course.

Dumbledore was unaware of this, and so, with his Order, they planned out how to gain and destroy seven pieces of a monster’s soul. And then, how to rescues Harry Potter.

XXX

Words:
Chapter 13
Come What May
COMING SOON… In which The Erlking reappears, and we finally have some slash between our main pairing.

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Thanks for reading, make me feel better by reviewing. There’ll be 16 chapters in total, so I don’t think I’m going to get the 412 reviews I wanted to beat WOLF but oh well.

Oh, go vote on the poll: either at my LJ or at my FFNet profile. Which fiction should I post after The Erlking (choice between HP/DM or FG/HP). I am not going to include a vote that is given in a review – it has to be on the poll.