Brave New World

Chapter Seven



The pale golden candlelight swayed and mocked at the ragged shadows created by the different cracks and jagged edges of the granite walls. No amount of charms could rid the air of the salty tang of the ocean which lay just on the other side of the fortress.



His fortress.



Its magnificence barely worthy of him but as this bastion had been created by his hand and his magic, nothing more was worthy to be used as the stronghold for his Death Eaters. Here his plans would take shape, just as his wand had carved into the side of this cliff. Here he would sculpt and mold the Wizarding world until it fit the image of his demands. This fortification would satisfy until he had the power of Hogwarts and it’s convergence of magic at his command.



He looked out amongst his faithful, finally recovered from the unexpected blow his adversary had dealt him. More than two hundred marked and ready to serve, to bring about a new world free from the filth of dirty blood and pathetic muggles who had not the sense to bow before their betters. Alliances formed each day as his emissaries brought word of the Darker forces of the Wizarding world, the giants and werewolves, even the lesser clans of vampires who were ready to take back what should be rightful theirs.



Too many of his devout were captured by the ministry, imprisoned in Azkaban. Let this be their punishment for failing at his given task. He would remove them when he called his dementors to his side and they would understand Lord Voldemort did not absolve failure without due consequence.



Despite his renewal there was doubt and dissention amongst his ranks. Legilimency wasn’t required to see those who were weak and unfaithful to his cause. They wondered how one such as the Potter brat had wounded him.



‘There is your example,’ the thought materialized as his gaze caught the bowed form of a Death Eater in the third row. Effortlessly, he delved into the coward’s inner thoughts. The power sent a thrill of arousal down his spine. It was there, all bared and vulnerable before him.



Cold sweat trailed down his back, as the hands that scrapped for surface in the dirt trembled violently. How had he allowed Cornelius to convince him being a Death Eater would bring him power? The Dark Lord wasn’t right. He wasn’t human.



He couldn’t breathe, dear Merlin, the stench and revulsion it made his flesh crawl. Dark tendrils of magic seemed to be creeping up his chest to wrap around his throat. Choking him.



His fear brought forth violent tremors that he couldn’t control, any moment he feared the release of his bowels as all of his instincts revolted, shot through with a jolt of magic that demanded he save himself. Run. Run. Run.



What was beneath that black robe was no wizard. No man. It was evil. Pure and untainted evil and dear Merlin what would be released on the Wizarding world. Nothing could stop it. The depths of hatred and malice tried to invade his pores. Those bowed near the front could only be insane. How could they stand to be so near it?



And they thought Potter could save them all. Potter? A mere boy to fight this malevolence? They were doomed.



Malevolence. Yes, he liked that description. He who was death personified. He who possessed magic and power they could never fathom. The very power which brought them to their knees before him, which they clung to like spoiled children, sycophants whose desires he could manipulate for his own whims.



“Giblin,” his voice emerged the darkest of purrs. From the edge of his perception he could see Bella almost writhing with pleasure. Yes, she, with the blackest of hearts and magic knew his intentions well. Azkaban might have splintered the last of her sanity, evidenced by the way she giggled like a mad child, but her wand and her devotion was absolute.



“Yes my Lord.” The answered trembled, his horror so vibrant and fervent he would have savored the purity of its essence had it come from one other than his Death Eaters who were supposed to be strong. Fear him, yes, for he was their Lord and their fear was his due. Weakness was not to be tolerated.



“Have you something you wish to share with your brothers and sisters this evening, Giblin?”



He knew the weakling was confused. “No my Lord.”



“Ah, but I have heard your thoughts Giblin, your doubts of my greatness. You wonder if the Potter boy will destroy your Lord.”



“No, please,” the whimper brought a chuckle forth that was cold enough to freeze the air. “I never, doubted my Lord. Never.”



“Are you lying to your Lord, Giblin?”



“He doubts you my Lord,” Bella shrieked and cackled one right after the other. “Thinks that boy Potter could ever affect your magnificence.”



Though unexpected, He wasn’t unaware of the boy’s potential. Neither was that fool Dumbledore, he was well done to hide the Potter child from him, prophecy or no. For like called to like and as much as the brave little lion liked to deny, there were more similarities between them than differences.



Perhaps…



But He was not one to dwell on the past. The offer of alliance had been made and turned aside. The boy had made his choices and would have to suffer the consequences.



“Crucio.”



The unforgivable struck the man with enough force to rip him from his knees and onto his back as he began to scream and thrash about on the ground. Pleasure streaked through His body, even as he pressed more of his magic into the curse. Rather than this weakling of a Death Eater, he imagined his adversary trembling before him screaming and struggling in agony before him.



“Let this be a lesson to you all,” he warned in a dark murmur after releasing the curse he had held for more than three minutes. “I am Lord Voldemort. Your loyalty is mine. Your magic is mine. Your life,” he paused, twisting his wand in the barest of movements. “Avada Kedavra.” The green light burst free of his wand, ripping the life-force from Giblin before he even knew what was happening as his mind had long since broken under the force of the Cruciatus.



“Your life is mine.”





FSFSFS







Neville Longbottom wasn’t a smart man. Not in the way his girlfriend Luna was. Many people underestimated his Luna, forgetting the sorting hat placed her within Ravenclaw for a reason. He wasn’t exactly brave, though he would faithfully stand beside his family and friends and defend them with his life. As the Gryffindor who often destroyed cauldrons and was terrified of Professor Snape, he could be considered neither unique nor remarkable. Not like his friend Harry Potter. Or at least these were the things he would say if asked to describe himself.



The very understanding he found for Luna Lovegood, should probably be applied to himself, as the sorting hat deemed Neville a Gryffindor for a reason as well. His bravery wasn’t like Harry’s, as he hadn’t been forced onto a path most normal teenage boys would have fallen from long ago. Ron was a perfect example. He was Harry’s best friend and had participated in most of his adventures during their years at Hogwarts. Ron came from a strong, loving family, had good friends, was a talented wizard with a pretty girlfriend and still was found wanting.



No Neville Longbottom’s bravery was quiet, unassuming, knowing when to take a stand and always loyal to his friends. It was the Ancient and Noble House of Longbottom dictum, Verus et fidelis simper. True and faithful ever.



That loyalty was sorely tested that Sunday morning when he was awakened by his friend’s screaming.



“Damn, I thought he was done with these,” he heard Ron mutter as he climbed from bed to make his way over to Harry. Dean and Seamus weren’t too far behind, as no one could sleep through the horrible sounds Harry was making in his sleep.



“What’s wrong with him,” Seamus had moved closer to his best friend, both more than shaken by the image of Harry thrashing around on his bed in what looked to be the worst pain imaginable. “Why is he acting this way?”



“You remember the dreams,” Dean murmured softly, “Like last year.”



A part of himself, held aside watching almost clinically, could have smiled at the way the two held onto each other after Dean’s sentence. Harry released a particularly loud shriek and the jagged scar that made him famous seemed to split open and seep down the front of Harry’s face in a macabre of gore and blood.



“Get a cold towel Ron to put on his head,” Neville demanded, galvanized into action as he moved to the side of Harry’s bed. “Dean, Seamus, you hold his legs down so he doesn’t hurt himself.”



He grabbed Harry’s chest and shoulders, trying to hold his struggling body down as Ron raced back in to hold the towel to the bleeding scar. Instantly Harry moaned, his head moving from side to side before coming to rest as his chest heaved with each breath he labored to drag in.



“I think it’s over,” Ron whispered, the freckles on his face bold and pronounced against his pale skin.



“Let this be a lesson to you all.”



Neville looked down, “Harry?” It wasn’t his friend’s voice. No, there in the depths of that green gaze was the presence of evil that Harry faced down every year. How had he fought so long and so hard against something so terrible.



“I am Lord Voldemort. Your loyalty is mine. Your magic is mine. Your life,” Harry paused and by this time, Dean and Seamus had shied away from the bed. Ron stood wide eyed at his side, hands crushing the towel in a panicked grip. One of Harry’s hands raised slowly, a cruel smirk touching his mouth just as his hand performed the barest of movements and brought forth words Neville thought he would never hear from his friend’s mouth.



“Avada Kedavra.”



“Bloody hell!” Ron shouted, jumping backward as he must have felt the same swell of magic he had. Without a wand, the spell had no way to release and the dark magic settled around Harry as he let out a long audible breath.



“Your life is mine.”



That sickening voice finished and the presence left Harry completely as he came abruptly awake and began weeping.



Neville looked to Ron, expecting him to do something for Harry, offer some form of comfort for the horror their fellow lion had just experienced but he did nothing but stare down at Harry in a mixture of dread and fear. Though Dean and Seamus’ expressions was similar, there was one thing present missing in Ron’s.



Compassion.



“It’s okay Harry,” Neville murmured, disgusted with Ron for allowing Harry to go through that alone. He touched a trembling hand to Harry’s head, feeling him stiffen.



“No,” he cried, his voice strained and cracked around the word as he tried to squirm away from Neville’s attentions. “No, don’t touch me, don’t, don’t,” Harry’s voice trailed off as his hysteria grew.



“it’s okay Harry,” Neville reaffirmed more strongly this time, sitting down on the edge of the bed so he could wrap his arms around the trembling teen. “I’m here Harry. It’s over now. You’re not alone. Harry.”



Those few words seemed all Harry could bear. He covered his face with trembling hands, despair and agony filling the air, as he gave vent to the bitter sobs that wracked his slim body.



It was a moment of epiphany for Neville. Before now, talk of Voldemort and Death Eaters had seemed like something happening to someone else and not affecting him. Yes, his life had been destroyed by Death Eaters the night they took his parents from him but still he hadn’t connected to what was coming the way Harry had. Not even their trip in the Department of Mysteries had brought home that truth. It was here, watching probably the strongest person he knew fall apart where Neville realized the War that lay ahead.



It became, genuine, because although he knew Harry had fallen, he would pull himself back together to stand again against you-know…no, against Vol, Voldemort, Neville amended though the terror of even speaking that name was enough to tighten a knot in his chest. Harry would stand and as his friend, as a Longbottom how could he do anything less than be there at his side.



His honor and the old ways demanded nothing less.

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FSFSFS

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“This is an infirmary, Professor Snape, and I will not have you upsetting my patients. When Mr. Potter awakens, I’m sure you and the Headmaster will have plenty of opportunity to speak with him.”



As he dragged himself from the comforting grip of oblivion, Harry had to wonder if Madam Pomfrey actually thought she would be able to deter Dumbledore when he was determined. Her voice was a mixture of annoyance and consideration. It always surprised him how she managed to make a whisper hold such a level of rebuke. Unfortunately, he knew the Headmaster wanted information and would rennervate him personally to get it if necessary.



Someone would have gone to Dumbledore even as they were rushing him to the infirmary for treatment. The vivid images of the nightmare wouldn’t leave him as he watched Voldemort torture one of his Death Eaters over and over. The worst part had been the madman’s enjoyment, the arousal, he felt inflicting such torment. When Harry had cast the cruciatus curse at Bellatrix, she had laughed at him, said he had needed to want it to hurt someone and he couldn’t believe himself capable of such an act.



Now he knew. His magic now knew the depths of the unforgiveable and it made him sick to the stomach to have shared those emotions with Voldemort. The remains of the dark magic of the killing curse felt fetid and dank against his skin. Inside of him. There was no way to explain the revulsion he felt, as his own magic was used against him in such a way. The worst of ways.



“I’m awake, Madam Pomfrey,” he murmured, halting the arguing voices as their attentions were immediately drawn to him.



“Ah, Harry, it’s good that you’re awake. How are you feeling, my boy.”



“I’ve been better.” Just how did the man think he felt? His head felt like someone was trying to cleave it open with an axe and the light brought white flashes behind his eyes making him feel as though he would vomit at any moment.



“Here Mr. Potter, let me help you to sit up so you can swallow this.” A moment later, the bed had lifted to an incline. “It’s a mild pain relieving potion, though I hesitate in giving you one, as the other shouldn’t have worn off just yet. “ A few seconds later and Harry felt as close to normal as he ever would after one of those nightmares.



“Thank you Madam Pomfrey.” This time when he tried to open his eyes, they no longer felt as though they were being stabbed with thousand of sharp knives.



“Yes, Poppy, perhaps you can give us a few moments alone with Mr. Potter. Only a few, as he needs his rest after such an ordeal.”



Harry didn’t need to see Snape’s face or hear the grunt of disapproval to know the man had no sympathy towards him at all. He didn’t even understand why Snape was there in the first place. If only to enjoy his pain and wish his father was the one bearing it instead. There wasn’t much trust between him and potions master regardless of Dumbledore’s opinion of the man.



“Perhaps if we’re done coddling the boy, we can begin questioning him about the Dark Lord’s intentions and what he may or may not have seen tonight?”



“Can you be any bigger an arsehole?” Harry mutter, but not softly enough as he caught the sounds of Madam Pomfrey’s amusement as she walked away.



“20 points from Gryffindor, Potter and detention tomorrow at 8 for disrespecting a Hogwarts Professor.”



Harry tilted his head just in time to catch the nasty smirk on Snape’s face. “Was it good for you too?” He couldn’t resist asking.



“Of all the-” the man’s smarmy face reddened in fury as he took a step forward.



“That’s enough Severus.” Dumbledore interrupted the coming tirade, “And you as well Harry. I think its time to place petty differences in the past where they belong.”



“Of course, sir,” Snape answered, though his dark eyes were promising retribution the next day when the Headmaster wasn’t around to protect him.



“So, Harry, can you tell us about your nightmare this evening?”



“It’s nothing special. Evidently Voldemort was injured during the fight at the Ministry but he’s better now. I mean really well. It felt like his magic was stronger than normal.”



“That would fall in line with the potions he’s had you brewing him, Severus.” Dumbledore looked toward the Professor and nodded as information was exchanged Harry wasn’t privy to.



“I guess I should thank you for this then?”



He knew Snape was a spy, but that didn’t stop his abhorrence of the man. In order to become a spy, Snape had to have been a Death Eater in the beginning. He didn’t get the dark mark by pretending to hate muggle-borns and thinking about murdering muggles. Snape had to actually lift his wand and taint his magic. Those actions weren’t easy to forget, he felt like they would always be with him and he wasn’t the one actually committing those heinous acts.



“If you hadn’t been such an impetuous, meddlesome brat, who believed his behavior beyond reproach, you wouldn’t still be suffering from these incidents as you would know how to sufficiently occlude your mind from the Dark Lord.”



“You’re saying it’s my fault your teaching leaves much to be desired?” His sneer was a mirror of the one Snape wore. “Clear your mind, Potter. Clear your mind, Potter. Isn’t that what you kept screaming at me before pointing your wand at me and ripping my head open?”



“Is it my fault you didn’t take the initiative to research more upon the intricacies of Occlumency. Hogwarts has a perfectly sufficient library in which her students are welcome to take advantage of.”



“No, it’s your fault for being a despicable bastard who actually enjoyed hurting me,” he sat foward on the bed, hands fisted and ready to attack.



“Enough!”



Dumbledore’s voice though quiet had an ominous command to it that forbade any dissention. “The two of you are behaving like small children. Harry if you wish to be treated as an adult you must behave as one. And Severus, I’m very disappointed in your actions this evening. We’re here for very important information, not to antagonize Harry.”



“And of course you shall take the Golden Boy’s side,” Snape’s coolly impersonal tone couldn’t hide the bitter edge in his words.



“Hn,” Harry denied in a nasty tone, “And if you believe that, I have to wonder at your sanity.”



“You were telling us about Voldemort, Harry.” Harry noted that Dumbledore didn’t exactly deny Harry’s accusations either.



“Yes, he’s better, stronger and mad as hell. I think that sums Voldemort up nicely, don’t you?”



“Potter, we don’t have time for your childish temper tantrums.”



“Did you discover why he’s angry?”Dumbledore, sighed in a dull troubled voice. Part of Harry felt bad for being such a prat but he was the one in the infirmary bed feeling corrupted and defiled due to visions from a madman, would it be so difficult for either of them to show some consideration to his true feelings and not just the pretense.



“He was angry with the other Death Eaters for getting captured at the Ministry. He plans to leave them in there for the time being until he calls the dementors to service. He’s made some alliances and he killed a follower to set an example just incase there were any ready to turn traitor. I don’t even believe he knew I was present during all of this.”



He recalled some of Voldemort’s inner thoughts. The man though evil had actually sounded like he respected Harry in his own bizarre fashion. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Harry if the opportunity presented itself but more as if he appreciated a worthy adversary before slaughtering him and taking dominion of the Wizarding world.



“Thank you my boy. I know this isn’t easy for you.” Dumbledore patted his shoulder and Harry had to resist the urge to flinch away from the contact. “I believe it would be in your best interests to resume your Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape.”



“Not happening,” Harry spat out.



“I object, I refuse to instruct this arrogant officious boy anymore than necessary. I already consented to his presence in a potions class that he did not qualify for. I will not waste more of my valuable time on this boy!”



“I must insist, Severus. It is for the best to block Voldemort’s invasions of Harry’s mind.”



The argument went on for some time and harry could see Dumbledore actually wearing Snape down until the snarky git would eventually agree. “I think you’re both missing the point.” He interrupted, with no vestige of understanding in its hardness. “I’m not taking the lessons and there is nothing either of you can do to convince me otherwise.”



“Harry, really I must not take no for an answer. It’s for your own good.”



“you can insist all you like but you can’t make me do this. So I suggest we drop the subject all together.”



“And what about the Dark Lord’s ability to enter your mind anytime he wishes? Or are you simply going to get someone else killed.”



“Get out.”



Snape’s sneer faltered for a second at the harsh order, before intensifying, “Just like your father. Always believing you deserve special treatment, that you’re above the rules and regulations set down for everyone else.”



“I said get out! I have to listen to you in class. I have to listen to you as a Professor here at Hogwarts but I bloody well don’t have to listen to you mock my godfather’s death and disparage my father. Get the Hell away from me!”



“Potter-”



“Harry please.”



He turned a gaze so cold and savage on Dumbledore then, the Headmaster took a step away. All the anger and rage he had tried to contain broke free from the already shaky restraints. The emotions from last year, spending the summer locked away and this last nightmare were the limit to his understanding.



“You want me on the front line like a good little solider to kill your Dark Lord? Then get him the fuck away from me.”

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FSFSFS

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It wasn’t planned for him to spend the last day of his weekend trapped in the infirmary, and it was a near thing. Madam Pomfrey had to treat a Hufflepuff second year who was a victim of one of the twins ‘Wheezes’ giving him the opportunity to slip away without notice. There wasn’t much she could do for him anyway and had planned to release him for dinner later that evening anyway a few hours earlier wouldn’t cause much harm.



He had plans for the remainder of the afternoon that needed to be taken care of before Thursday.



Rather than close himself up in the castle, he would take advantage of the nice afternoon. After gathering his materials from the Gryffindor tower, and collecting Hedwig, he found a nice spot in front of the lake to work. He transfigured a large rock into a flat surface he could write on and pulled out the special parchment and quill he ordered for this purpose.



“Alright girl, you enjoy yourself.” The snowy white owl sitting on his shoulder, nipped lightly at his ear before taking to the sky for an afternoon of flying.



A quick nip down to the kitchens had rewarded him with a thermos of warm cider and two large apple walnut muffins left over from lunch. He didn’t think Leo would be upset by this small snack. So he spread out the large blanket he brought with him and sat down for a few minutes of watching Hedwig fly, missing his broom like crazy and wishing he could be up in the sky instead of down on the ground watching.



It didn’t escape him that most people spent afternoons like this with a significant other. Ron and Hermione were probably tucked away somewhere enjoying the quiet time. Even Neville was dating, as Harry had found his fellow Gryffindor and Luna Lovegood holding hands on their way to the greenhouse. At the direction his life was heading, his quiet times would probably always be spent alone. No one would want to risk dating him with Voldemort waiting to kill him. The best he could do would be to enjoy the little moments while he could. This was the reason this party was so important to him.



He had been reading in The Curious Half-Blood when he came across the coming of age celebration and thought it would be nice to arrange one for Hermione and her 17th birthday. It was simple to arrange the food with the house elves, they were eager to provide the refreshments for such an important occasion. Even if Hermione wasn’t exactly their favorite witch due to her SPEW efforts. The Room of Requirement would provide decorations so he just needed to make invitations and send them out on Monday so everyone would have time to let him know if they could attend.



Ron hadn’t made any plans for her when he asked, so Harry thought it great idea to give this to Hermione. The book had said typically a family member would host the gathering but as Hermione’s parents were muggles, there was no way for them to even perform the opening ceremony or the other blessings involved as they required magic. He thought of Hermione like a sister, and she was one of his best friends, so it would probably be acceptable for him to host the gathering for her. It would be a nice way for all of their friends could get together to celebrate her birthday.



At the very least it would take him mind off the month of detentions he received for cursing out Professor Dumbledore.