Indelible

Again, its almost been 3 months since I updated. After my last update, I sort of didn’t have anymore notes written for this fiction, so I was working spur of the moment, and then I had an idea, and I named Chapter 7 – Integration, but now I don’t remember why or where I wanted to go with the story. Which is why it is so late, sorry.

Also, major, major exams coming up, and I’m failing one of four law topics, so I really have to study, so I might be pretty quiet on the update front until May 17th (which is when my exams end). When summer starts, I promise, I will update BLACK COMPLICATION chapter 2b/5 ok?

As always, feed my ego with a review. XD

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ITALIC BOLD is Parseltongue
ITALIC is Tom thoughts – unless it’s the Daily Prophet article.
BOLD is Harry thoughts
UNDERLINED are Voldemort’s thoughts

Words: 3,728
Chapter 7
Integration
Three days passed before the news of the Azkaban breakout could no longer be hidden from the public. Try as they might the Ministry of Magic, nor the members of the Order of the Phoenix could stall any longer. So, three days after wards, the Wizarding World woke up to the shock of their lives. Each and every one of them, whether they had a paying subscription to the ‘Daily Prophet’ or not, was woken up by an angry owl bearing a paper.

The headlines screamed at the from the page, “IS YOU-KNOW-WHO BACK? Big Breakout From Azkaban! Death Eaters At Large!” With a gulp, or a shudder of fear – or, for some, with a elated smile – they turned the page and began to read. They, for the most part, tried to ignore the numerous faces printed on the front cover, underneath the headline. Mug shots of each of the Lestranges’, of Sirius Black, the other Death Eaters, and of course Harry Potter.

“Last night the Ministry, headed by Minister Cornelius Fudge, and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore invited me for a chat. Now, while this may not seem unusual, as of course my company is highly sought after, but I knew there was something off about this arranged meeting. So, being the intelligent woman I am, I brought along Claude, my cameraman. It was a good thing I did, dear readers. For imagine my shock when I heard the news!”

On the opposite page to those words was a close up of Rita Skeeter, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She blinked every three seconds in shock. Her hair had seemed to leap out of its bun in fright, before flattening itself out. Below it, were the words, “after first hearing the news, Claude took this picture of my shocked, yet still attractive, visage.”

“Azkaban has been liberated!” People who were reading, took this moment to look at their watches – which all seemed to jump to ‘mortal peril’ – or to talk hurriedly in whispers with anyone close to them, or, in fact, to glare at strangers wearing black as if they were the escapees in disguise. “Convicted followers of You-Know-Who from the first War are all unaccounted for. The Ministry has high hopes of capturing each and every escaped criminal, and they will not rest until our streets and homes are safe again.

“I have been assured by both the Minister and by the esteemed Headmaster that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not returned. In fact, they believe that the Werewolf Fenrir Greyback was responsible for the mass breakout. Their reasoning for this was that they had intercepted an owl between Greyback and an anonymous second party, which asked for help in freeing the infamous Harry Potter from Azkaban. The Headmaster believes that the other Death Eaters who were freed were merely done so to cause panic among you fine people.

“Harry Potter, as you will all remember, was sent to Azkaban in June of 1992 for the unproven murder of Genevra Weasley, youngest of the Weasley clan. The only person of that family who believes dearest Harry was in anyway involved was young Ronald. On that note, I also have been informed, that Ronald Weasley was killed during the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but am yet unable to establish how. From what I hear, it was very painful, although it is unproven whether it was accidental or the work of more sinister forces. Perhaps the Headmaster would like to take the time to blame this crime on Harry Potter also? (Despite the fact that he was safely imprisoned when it occurred). Happily, Cedric Diggory survived intact, although the boy looked quite shell-shocked when I last saw him.”

The article had spanned at least 5 pages of the ‘Prophet’ and had jumped from one topic to the next. But it was obvious, that every compliment to the Headmaster was meant in a sarcastic manner. A few people had gasped and feared over the first few paragraphs, scoffed at the idea that it was the work of Harry Potter or for Harry Potter, and then laughed themselves silly through the last paragraph. Others, however, took it all very seriously.

But there were a few who began to get seriously confused.

XXX

Harry closed the newspaper, his own smiling face beamed up at him, and he waved back happily. Draco sat at the dining table beside him, slowly eating a bowl of cereal. His parents sat opposite them, with Voldemort at the head of the table, and Sirius at the other end, reasonably far away, which pleased Voldemort greatly.

“Decent picture, don’t you reckon?” Sirius shouted up the table. He was sitting at least two feet away from the others, at the three-foot long table.

“What about bacon?” Harry shouted back. Both Voldemort and Tom, in his head, shot him glares.

“The picture Harry, he said it’s decent.” Tom gave a small sigh. He was sitting beneath the blankets on the bed, which floated above the lake in their very own Chamber of Secrets. Some people liked to have their Occlumency-provided sanctuaries look like meadows, or studies, or Merlin forbid the Gryffindor common room but Tom rather liked having theirs as the Chamber of Secrets. Only three people alive knew what that place looked like, and technically speaking Tom was two of them.

Harry grinned to Tom, tilting his head cutely as he studied the pictures again. “Tinkerbell does look a bit scary. If they wanted us to look nice, couldn’t they have taken other ones?”

“I don’t think-” Draco began but cut himself short when the Dark Lords eyes turned to him. Voldemort could smell a lot of things most humans couldn’t. It resulted from years spent piggybacking off of snakes, rats and other animals. But he hadn’t smelt sex when Lucius brought the blond boy back to the Throne Room three days ago, and nor did the child smell of sex now, which was wrong since they had spent the morning together. However, Harry smelt faintly of lust and semen.

“What was that Draco?” Harry said, not looking up from the pictures. He was busy pouring spoonfuls of Cornflakes onto Bellatrix’s picture before wiping them off and doing it again. Bellatrix sneered up at him, her hair milk sodden and hanging limply.

“Nothing.” The boy whispered, blushing. Narcissa looked worriedly at him, but Lucius’ eyes were narrowed. There was something his son wasn’t telling him, and Lucius prayed to Merlin that Draco told him before Lord Voldemort figured it out for himself.

“I think we’re meant to look scary.” Sirius said from down the table. Voldemort had the House Elves spell-o-tape him to the chair.

“What was that?” Harry asked back.

“I said-”

“I still can’t hear you! Why are you sitting down there anyway?” Harry rolled his eyes, before dropping some cornflakes on a picture of Barty Crouch Jr., who by the by was not broken out of Azkaban that night.

“I DON’T THINK WE’RE MEANT TO LOOK NICE!” Sirius almost roared. He slumped in his chair, panting mostly from anger, while shooting the Dark Lord glares from the corner of his eyes. “PASS THE SALT!” He shouted again. He could have summoned it over, but he didn’t have a wand. He wasn’t allowed to go get a wand until Harry was allowed to be left alone, and that wouldn’t happen until he was introduced to all the Death Eaters and integrated into the Pureblood society as it stood.

Voldemort floated the salt down the table, before tipping it harshly over Sirius’ plate. Sirius reached out to grab the shaker just as the cap came loose and all of the salt the shaker held dumped down onto his mashed potatoes. Voldemort smirked maliciously, but Sirius only watched as Harry repeated the action on his Cornflakes, with the peppershaker, and together they both dug in, grimacing with every swallow. Voldemort sighed, and with a wave of his hand the House Elves replaced both plates.

“I don’t know why you bother,” Tom’s voice echoed through Voldemort’s head. “They’re both as stubborn as each other, more so than you and I, in fact. ”

“Desist in invading my mind, you parasite. ” Voldemort all but snarled back at his younger self. Tom rolled his eyes, lay back in the bed in the Chamber of Secrets and went to sleep. He made sure to snore loudly, and made sure that only Voldemort could hear him.

The Dark Lord’s right eye twitched once, before he stood. His chair made a scraping sound as it moved away from the table and as one the three Malfoys stood as their Lord did. Harry looked up briefly before floating his new bowl of cereal so it hovered over the picture of Bellatrix, and the adjoining two, which happened to be the Lestrange brothers. He tipped it with his finger and giggled, as the paper was soaked with milk. Bellatrix was screaming profanities that couldn’t be heard, and both brothers’ left their pictures to hide out in the frames of Death Eaters unknown to Harry at the edge of the paper.

Sirius didn’t even bother to look up; he just carried on shovelling food into his mouth, not even stopping to swallow between mouthfuls.

“Potter, come here.” Harry gave a cough, sounding suspiciously like ‘hem, hem’, before looking up at the Dark Lord audaciously. He even winked once. Voldemort’s wand was out like a flash, pointed directly between Harry’s eyes as he snarled out, “come – here – Potter!”

“Not very good at this loving father-figure thing, are you?” Tom replied, his eyes flashing red in Harry’s face. “But then, I shouldn’t have expected much, considering the way we were raised. Now, Harry though, sweetest child, managed to turn out all right despite living in Azkaban. Much better than living with those Muggles though, I assure you.” Tom drawled, his eyes never leaving Voldemort’s equally as red eyes. “Now, where are you taking Harry?”

Voldemort bit back a growl, not used to being questioned, but he supposed he might as well begin to get used to it. There was no point, after all, in arguing with oneself.

XXX

They were gathered in the Throne room moments later, awaiting the arrival of the other Death Eaters. None of his unmarked followers were summoned, nor any of his informants. Nor was Severus Snape, for the Dark Lord had yet to ascertain the man’s true allegiance. Harry sat perched on the arm of the Dark Lord’s throne – hence the name of the room – his arms crossed as he leant against Voldemort’s side. The elder Wizard glared at him every so often but didn’t protest, mainly because every time he opened his mouth to say something, Tom’s snoring grew louder.

Lucius and Narcissa were kneeling in front of the throne, and Draco was sat cross-legged on the floor beside Harry’s feet. Sirius was hiding behind the still opened door, so Voldemort couldn’t see him. Of course, the Dark Lord knew he was there, he just could see how Sirius Black could be important enough for him to fret over.

Slowly those in the Inner and Outer Circle began to trickle into Riddle Manor. Each dropped to one knee as they arrived, taking the same position as the elder Malfoys. They eyed Harry warily, their sneers present as their masks only covered the top half of their faces.

The Inner Circle knew who the boy was, as they also knew the reason Draco was sat by his feet. But the Outer Circle had not been present at the meeting three days ago, so they watched suspiciously as the boy wearing a long dark green robe, the hood pulled up over his hair, slowly raised his hand to remove the ornate black onyx mask he wore. Gasps and cries rang out through the room as their eyes met those of Harry Potter. Tom, having woken up by now, let the eyes flash red briefly causing many in the room to cower.

“Stop scaring them Tom,” Harry chastised lightly.

Tom rolled his eyes, “Harry, remember what I taught you. Don’t tell me years of lessons have gone to waste?” Harry shook his head slightly, and in a blink of an eye all expression disappeared from the boy’s pale face. He watched, stonily, as the Death Eaters slowly rose to their feet.

“Welcome, once again, my faithful, to a momentous occasion. It seems the Light has gone too far in arresting their precious boy saviour. He is, as most of you have guessed, quite innocent in terms of the deaths of both Weasley children. Lucius Malfoy is responsible for both of their deaths.” Lucius ducked his head, hoping to escape any punishment the Dark Lord felt like doling out.

“Ron’s dead then?” Harry asked, his tone light, almost unconcerned, but there was a slight undertone of something that Voldemort couldn’t place. Maybe he thought it was anger because it pointed towards Lucius.

“Answer your Lord’s question Malfoy.” Voldemort ordered.

His face paling further, Lucius spoke. “Yes, my Lord Indelible.”

“Was it painful?” Harry wasn’t even looking at him, Lucius noted. Instead the boy had leant down to run his fingers through Draco’s hair. As he did so Draco, who had been extremely tense, began to relax.

“Y-Yes?” Lucius answered not quite sure what to say.

Harry smirked up at him, their eyes meeting for a moment before Lucius lowered them in submission. “Did you hear that Tom? Now you don’t have to worry about killing him anymore, and I don’t have to listen to you rant! I think you owe Malfoy’s dad a ‘thank you’.” Harry began to rub his forehead, and Tom bashed his own head repeatedly off of Harry’s brain. “Ow, stop it. Stupid Half-Blood Boy!”

Most of the Death Eaters looked confused or worried, the odd few looking more afraid of Harry than they did of Voldemort. The whispers of “insane”, “Azkaban” and “Potter” travelled through the room until the Dark Lord’s gaze silenced them.

“Don’t mind him,” Voldemort drawled, shooting his Heir a very annoyed glare, “he’s not quite right in the head.”

“Oi!” Harry shouted, eyes narrowing. His hand jumped to cover his mouth as he realized whom he was talking to, “uh?” Voldemort’s fingers squeezed the armrests of his throne as he desperately tried not to roll his eyes, or do anything so extremely plebeian. His hand hit Harry in the arse, as the boy was sitting on the armrest, and the soon-to-be fifteen-year-old squeaked in surprise and fell off the armrest. He landed neatly in Draco’s lap. “Oh, hello.” He said brightly, his arms going around Draco’s neck so they didn’t topple over, but otherwise he was more than happy to sit there.

Voldemort’s hand twitched, itching to rub his temples or grab his wand and hex someone. No one knew for sure, except maybe Tom but he wasn’t sharing that information. “May I present Lord Indelible? He is to be treated with the same respect accorded to me, or there will be some serious consequences, is that understood?” While the Death Eaters bowed again and began their customary “of course, My Lord,” and “yes, Sir”, Voldemort slipped into Parseltongue and said to Harry, “even if he is a complete imbecile.”

“Aw, you know you love me really,” the boy shot back with a cheeky grin, comfortable in teasing the Dark Lord as long as his followers couldn’t hear or understand. The Dark Lord just settled for giving the underage Wizard a very lecherous grin, causing Harry to blush.

“That look suits you,” Voldemort whispered, so only Draco and Harry could hear.

Fortunately, Harry was saved from answering when Sirius burst forward from behind the open door, slamming it shut in the process and screaming, “constant vigilance!” He then burst into hysterical laughter, and the only other person to find it remotely funny was Voldemort, but then again, he was laughing at Sirius not with him. He was also imagining fun and painful ways for Sirius to die by his wand. With a lot of screaming. And blood.

The Death Eaters had their wands pointed at Sirius, but Harry’s cold command of “lower them” soon had them dropping into a bow, begging for forgiveness. “Rise,” he added after a moment of allowing Tom to bask in their obvious fear. “Sirius open that door now.”

Sirius grinned, saluting Harry with the transfigured wand he had kept with him since Ahm Shere, and shouted, “Sir, yes Sir!” Ten minutes of running his hands over the metal door later, and Sirius turned around crestfallen. “There’s no lock. How come there’s no lock?” This sent the other, newer Death Eaters into a panic, and they ran to the door, knocking each other out of the way as they cast spell after spell at the door trying to unlock it.

“Are they always this stupid?” Tom asked coldly, his red eyes narrowed at the frightened mass.

“The new ones more so than the others,” Voldemort allowed with a uncaring shrug of his shoulders, “but they all learn in time.” His wand was out, and with a quick ‘Crucio’ all of the Wizards were away from the door and bowing by his feet. “If there was even half a brain between you all, you would recall me warning you that this door only opens from the outside, unless you are a Parseltongue.” He ‘Crucioed’ them once more then hissed for the door to open, which it did. “Dismissed.”

“Now that Harry has met all of your mentally challenged followers,” Voldemort raised an eyebrow at the comment, before turning his gaze to Sirius who was cackling madly by the door. “Ignore him.” Tom grunted. “As I was saying, now that Harry has been introduced to them, perhaps a Ball would be in order?”

“How would you suggest we allow an escaped criminal out in polite society?” Lucius drawled from where he stood. Draco looked up at his father, Harry still in his lap.

“In disguise of course. I know very well that you go out in public addressed as Marvolo Hayes, perhaps Harry can be your son?” Hayes was an old branch of Wizarding family that died off not long before ‘Gaunt’ took up the Slytherin line. Technically speaking, if not for his sometime great-grandmother marrying a Gaunt, Voldemort would have been a Hayes. And it was far back enough that no one would connect it, not even the great Albus Dumbledore.

“Harry Hayes?” Harry said with a snort, “I think not, Tom.” He had taken over his body again.

“Any better ideas, oh wise and brilliant one?” Tom said with a slight frown.

”Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Half-Blood Boy.” Tom didn’t even bother to react verbally, he just turned his back on Harry and crossed his arms over his chest, pouting. “What about Dorian Grey?”

“What part of ‘Hayes’ did you miss, boy?” Voldemort leant forward in his throne, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“Say I have my mother’s name, or something. The name isn’t as funny without the ‘Grey’ part.” Voldemort waved his hand, silently demanding an explanation. “You know, the book, ‘The Picture of Dorian Grey’ or ‘The Portrait of’ or something. He is an immortal, whose soul or something lives inside a portrait of him. If he ever looks at the picture he died and the portrait gains his eternal youth. I’m not really Dorian Grey, so I wont die as him, which means that, in a way Dorian Grey is immortal, like the story, right?” Harry tilted his head sideways, his green eyes wide and bright, and Voldemort swallowed reflectively. No one had ever looked at him like that in his whole life – so innocent, and carefree. It was enlightening.

“I suppose. Your mother was named Emily Grey; she used to live in England but moved to Russia in order to attend Durmstrang. We met, you were conceived, and she concealed you from me. She has recently passed away and the Russian Ministry sent you to live with me.”

“Aw, damn.” Harry pouted. “My mother-figures just keep dying.” He looked to Sirius with a pout. The man was instantly at Harry’s side, squishing both him and Draco into a hug.

Ignoring them, Voldemort continued to talk. “You look enough like me that only a few changed will be required. They will be permanent. I shall make the potion myself, and I shall require a few drops of your blood.” Harry nodded, his face pressed to Sirius’ chest still. “Good, then I suppose you may go do something else until the potion is ready.”

“Can I leave the Manor?” Harry asked, eyes wide as he pulled back from Sirius.

Voldemort nodded, “but stay close by. When the potion is complete then you may accompany someone into Diagon Alley. Black, I suppose you must go and get another wand, no one wants to have to defend you. Lucius!” The blond man bowed slightly, “you will accompany them. You may bring Narcissa and Draco if you like.” Both of the other blond’s nodded quickly in agreement.

“And then,” Sirius grinned, “Indelible needs a coming out Ball!” He grinned and rubbed his hands together thinking of the mischief he could cause.

“Yes, he will. And you, Black, will be supervised at all times.” Voldemort hissed angrily. Sirius frowned in disappointment.

“Why am I coming out? Of the closet? But I don’t even know if I like girls yet!” He frowned. “It’s been three years since I saw a girl, and Bella doesn’t count. Or you, Malfoy’s mum.” He blinked slowly. “But Tom is nice, and he feels good. And Draco is rather comfortable too.” He wiggled in Draco’s lap, and the blond blushed wildly.

“Ok, enough, more than I needed to know.” Sirius said. He grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him up and pushing him to the door. “Let’s go flying or something. Haven’t flown in like fourteen years.”

“Me either. But not the fourteen years part.” Harry reached back to grab Draco, pulling the blond after them. The elder Malfoys were dismissed as well.

The blond was becoming something of a shadow where Harry was concerned, but still Voldemort could not smell anything resembling lust or attraction between them. It was very vexing to know that his orders were being disobeyed.

XXX

The next chapter will involve a long-overdue visit to Diagon Alley and Gringotts for both of our recently imprisoned Wizards, as well as Harry’s (or Dorian’s) Ball. More of Voldemort and Lucius trying to figure out what Harry and Draco are up to as well.

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Thanks, as always, to you stalkers out there – you know who you are! :) Constant reviewers are the best kind.