Voldemort’s Heir
Chapter Nine
Harry drew his coat tighter around him as he trudged up the long, winding driveway leading to the Malfoy mansion. He licked his lips, feeling doubt and uncertainty threaten to overwhelm him. He couldn’t be sure that Malfoy would be willing to take his offer, but he had to try. All that mattered was getting Draco to safety and keeping Eric out of Voldemort’s hands.
As he approached the mansion, the door slowly swung open. A house elf looked up at him with awe. “M-Mr. Potter,” the elf squeaked. “Follow me.”
Harry was led to the study, where the fireplace had been lit, giving the room a warm glow. A high-backed chair sat facing the fire, and Lucius Malfoy stood next to it. The fireplace cast flickering shadows across his face as the house elf motioned for Harry to enter the room.
“Ah, Mr. Potter,” Malfoy said. “You seem to be lacking something. . .or should I say someone?”
“There’s been a change in plans,” Harry answered. “I’m modifying the deal.”
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. “Who gave you the authority to change the deal?”
“I’m making you a new one,” Harry said. “Me for Draco.”
Malfoy’s face hardened. “No. The deal was Fyril for Draco. Voldemort will accept no less.”
“Really?” Harry said. “He would pass up the chance to kill his most hated adversary? After all the times I’ve managed to survive his previous attempts?”
Malfoy narrowed his eyes, mulling over Harry’s offer. “Very well. . .give me a moment to confer with Lord Voldemort.”
“First, I want to see Draco,” Harry demanded.
Malfoy snickered. “You’re in no positions to make demands, boy.”
“Either you let me see Draco now, or I will personally make sure that Voldemort never sees hide nor hair of Fyril or me,” Harry said.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes. “Do you honestly believe that you could keep Voldemort from his grandson?”
“Yes,” Harry answered.
Malfoy laughed. “Ah, to be your age again. So idealistic. And so naive.”
“Well?” Harry said. “Do I get to see Draco or should I just walk out the door now?”
Malfoy chuckled. “Who said that you would be able to walk out the door?” he said. “My house, Potter. My rules.” He took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. “Very well. I will let you see your precious little love.”
He waved his hand in the air and the chair next to him began to slowly turn, giving Harry a glimpse of its occupant.
“Draco,” Harry whispered.
The younger Malfoy was seated in the chair, but some invisible force seemed to be holding him rigidly against it. His mouth was moving as though he were speaking, but no sound was being emitted.
“What have you done to him?” Harry hissed, glaring at Malfoy.
“Just a simple silencing spell,” Malfoy said, shrugging. “You asked to see him, not to speak with him.”
“Undo the spell,” Harry growled.
“And why would I want to do that?” Malfoy said.
“Never mind, I’ll do it myself,” Harry snapped, pulling out his wand and performing the counterspells to free Draco.
“You little twit,” Lucius hissed.
“Harry!” Draco cried, rising from the chair.
“Get out of here, Draco,” Harry ordered.
“And leave you alone with him?” Draco said, glaring at his father. “Not on your life.”
“How touching,” Lucius growled.
“Draco, please, get out of here,” Harry begged.
“No,” Draco said. “This is just a test, Harry. And you passed. Right, Dad? We can go now.”
Harry blinked, staring at Draco. “Draco. . .”
“No, Harry, he’s just a spy,” Draco said, looking at his father. “Tell him, Dad. Tell him what you told me.”
Lucius pulled his wand from his robe and pointed it at Draco. “You always were a complete idiot who could never top one single Mudblood in classes, and lived beneath my reputation.” Raising his wand, he waved it around. “Crucio!”
Harry watched in horror as Draco suddenly screamed in pain and dropped to the floor, writhing uncontrollably.
“No!” Harry cried, glaring at Malfoy as he covered Draco’s body with his. “How could you?! He’s your own son!”
“I have no son!” Malfoy growled, shifting his wand to point at Harry.
Harry winced, biting his lip as the full blast of the Cruciatus curse was turned on him. Having been subjected to the curse many times before, Harry had learned how to overcome it.
“Harry, no!” Draco cried. He’d heard his father’s renouncement of him, but was more concerned for his lover’s well-being.
Lucius rolled his eyes. “What a pathetic waste of life my supposed heir has become. If there’s one thing I can’t stand more than a Mudblood or Muggle, it’s a damn homo. Did Potter confundus you into it, Draco? Maybe this will free you of your affliction.”
Harry looked down at his lover. “Draco. . .run,” he moaned before passing out.
Draco glared up at his father, then looked back down at Harry. His eyes widened as he saw the wand in Harry’s hand. Determined, he snatched up the wand and gingerly extracted himself from underneath his lover.
“And just what do you think you’re going to do with that?” Lucius hissed.
“This,” Draco growled, aiming the wand at his father. “Petrificus totalus!”
As he wasn’t using his own wand, it took a bit of concentration to make the spell work, but Draco sighed in relief as his father’s body suddenly went rigid. He knelt beside Harry, gently touching his face as the elder Malfoy fell back onto the floor, a look of complete anger frozen on his face.
“Harry,” Draco whispered. “C’mon, love, you have to wake up.”
He licked his lips, glancing up at his father. They had to get out of there before the spell wore off. He would need his own wand in order to cast the spell he had in mind.
Holding out his hand, he said, “Accio Draco’s wand.” Almost instantly, his wand flew from the fireplace mantle into his hand.
“And now, for my next trick,” he muttered, pointing his wand at Harry. “Mobulicorpus!”
Draco watched, licking his lips, as Harry’s body gently rose from the floor, dangling like a puppet on strings. “Come on, my love, we’re leaving,” Draco whispered, using his wand to lead his lover out of the room.
At the front doors of the mansion, Draco encountered protection spells put in place by his father to ensure the boys couldn’t leave. With a quick wave of his wand and a muttering of a spell, Draco had overcome the protection spells and led Harry’s limp body out of the mansion.
Stopping on the driveway, he glanced back over his shoulder. Sighing, he took one last look at the mansion where he’d grown up. “You have no son, eh, Dad?” he whispered. “Well, I have no father.”
With that, he walked away, determined never to step foot in the mansion again.
******
“Well, young Snape, how did the lessons go?” Albus Dumbledore asked as he encountered Jason and Eric in the hall.
Eric made a face, then winced as Jason elbowed him. “Um. . .great, sir,” he said. “Jason taught me a lot.”
“Excellent,” Dumbledore said, smiling. “Why don’t you come into my office and we’ll plan your next course of action?”
“Sure,” Eric said, nodding.
Jason smiled, motioning for Dumbledore to lead the way.
Once they arrived at Dumbledore’s office, Dumbledore’s eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight of Sirius Black sprawled out on the floor.
“Oh my God, Sirius!” Isabene hissed. She had been following the group into Dumbledore’s office, but now pushed past her father and Eric to kneel at her lover’s side.
“What in the hell happened?” Eric demanded.
Sirius moaned, starting to come around. He lifted his head, squinting up at Isabene. “Harry. . .”
Isabene raised her eyebrows. “Darling, if you think I’m your godson, you really do need to have your eyes checked,” she teased.
“Where is Mr. Potter?” Dumbledore said, frowning.
Jason picked up a piece of paper that had been dropped near Dumbledore’s desk. “I think this might answer your question, Headmaster.” He handed Dumbledore the letter.
Dumbledore frowned as he read over the letter. “Oh no. . .Harry, you didn’t.”
Isabene raised her head. “Didn’t what?”
“What is it?” Jason asked, noticing how tired the old professor looked, not to mention the lack of twinkle in his eyes.
“This letter is from Lucius Malfoy,” Dumbledore said gravely. “He offered Harry a deal.”
“Draco for Fyril,” Sirius said, sitting up and rubbing the back of his neck.
Eric sucked in his cheek, biting down on it to keep himself from saying something about his name.
“Okay, so obviously, Harry decided not to take that deal,” Isabene said.
“He stunned me,” Sirius said wearily. “He wanted to offer Malfoy a new deal--him for Draco.”
“I was afraid of that,” Isabene muttered.
“Okay, I don’t get it,” Eric said. “I mean, Voldemort wants me anyway.”
“Not only that, this little deal of Harry’s is a win-win scenario for Voldemort,” Jason said, tapping his chin. “After all, he gets the chance to do away with his number one nemesis. . .plus he still has Krista to use against Eric.”
“So Harry’s sacrifice is for nothing?” Isabene said.
“Bloody hell!” Sirius hissed. “I told him not to go!”
“Love will make people do strange things,” Dumbledore commented, directing his gaze at Eric.
Eric averted his eyes, having the strange sensation that the wizened wizard knew what he was thinking.
“We have to find Harry,” Sirius determined.
“That will be unnecessary, Mr. Black,” said the voice of the Transfiguration professor, Minerva McGonnagal. She stood in the doorway, Draco behind her. An unconscious Harry Potter floated beside him, looking much like a puppet on strings. “They arrived just moments ago.”
“Draco, come in,” Dumbledore said, motioning for him to enter. “You can lay Harry here.” He indicated the couch with a sweep of his hand.
“What happened?” Sirius demanded as Draco did as Dumbledore bade.
“Harry came to see my father, intending to offer him a trade,” Draco said as he gently maneuvered Harry onto the couch. Then he sank down into a chair provided by Jason. “Father was going to confer with You-Know-Who, only Harry demanded to see me. I was charmed to a chair and Father had cast a silencing spell on me.”
Eric’s head came up. “Silencing spell?”
Jason smirked. “Planning to use it on Krista?”
Eric started to make a retort, but Isabene glared at him.
“Would you mind continuing your little banter another time?” she snapped. “Draco, what happened then?”
Draco licked his lips. “Father told Harry that he was in no position to make demands. Harry then pulled out his wand and freed me from the spells.”
“And then?” Isabene inquired.
“Harry tried to get me to run away. I told him no,” Draco answered. “Then Father. . .he performed the Cruciatus curse on me. Harry jumped in the way.”
Sirius nodded. “That’s our Harry. Always protecting the ones he loves.”
“How did you escape?” Jason asked.
“I used Harry’s wand to stun my father,” Draco said. “Then I retrieved my wand and performed the Mobulicorpus spell on Harry.”
Everyone, with the exception of Eric, exchanged surprised glances. Eric, seeing the looks, frowned. “Uh. . .did I miss something?”
“Draco, you were able to use Harry’s wand?” McGonnagal asked.
Draco nodded. “It took a bit of concentration, but yes.”
“And this is bad. . .?” Eric said.
“Not necessarily,” Isabene responded. “It’s just unexpected. After all, you are ‘chosen by the wand,’ as Ollivander likes to put it.”
“It is not unheard of, someone using someone else’s wand,” Dumbledore commented. “It just usually requires more concentration and spells are not always accurate.”
“This doesn’t help solve the main problem at hand,” Sirius pointed out. “Voldemort is still out there. He still wants Fyril.”
“And he has my wife,” Eric said grimly.
“I’m open to suggestions on what to do next,” Isabene said.
******
“I am very displeased, Malfoy,” Voldemort hissed.
“I am sorry, milord,” Malfoy said, bowing his head. “I did not expect my son. . .” He paused, his face contorting into an expression of disgust.
“I want none of your excuses, Malfoy!” Voldemort growled. “You’re lucky I don’t kill you where you stand.”
Malfoy nervously swallowed. “I thank you for your kindness, milord.”
“Do not mistake kindness for weakness, Malfoy,” Voldemort hissed. “Were I am to function without you, I would not hesitate to dispense with your life. However, I still have use for you.”
Malfoy nodded. “Yes, milord.”
“Go and fetch the girl,” Voldemort ordered. “I wish to speak with her.”
Malfoy nodded and rose, quickly leaving the room to do as his master bade.
“Very soon now,” Voldemort cackled to himself. “Very soon, my grandson shall kneel before me. Very soon indeed.”
******
Draco sighed. He sat beside the couch in Dumbledore’s office, stroking Harry’s cheek. Snape and his wife had joined the congregation moments before and were now trying to come up with a plan.
“Look, there’s only one thing to do,” Eric was arguing.
Draco glanced at the dark-haired man, still unable to fathom that he was the son of Snape. He would never have imagined Snape to be the marrying type, much less a father. He certainly couldn’t imagine being married to the man.
“What do you propose?” Snape said, crossing his arms over his chest.
Eric took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair. “We give Voldemort what he wants.”
“What?” Snape cried. “Are you out of your mind?”
“No, listen to me,” Eric said. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, but it has to be done. It should’ve already been done. Voldemort wants me, then by god, he’ll get me.”
“You are crazy to think we’re just going to let you march right up to your grandfather and give yourself up,” Isabene growled. “After all we went through hiding you in the first place?”
Eric shook his head. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you did for me. . .even if I don’t remember it. . .but this is the only way.”
“Haven’t you learned anything?” Draco said quietly.
Eric stopped, casting a glance at the young man who’d spent most of the meeting at Harry’s side, silently brushing hair out of the unconscious young man’s face. “Excuse me?”
Draco raised his head, turning to look at Eric. “Didn’t you learn anything from Harry? Self-sacrifice is not the way.” He waved a hand at Harry’s unconscious form. “You see where it got him.”
“Not to mention that it could have gotten him killed,” Isabene growled.
“I have to take a chance to save my wife,” Eric argued.
Mackenzie shook her head. “Getting yourself killed won’t do her a bit of good, Fyril.”
Eric growled, clenching his hands into fists. “You got a better idea?”
“Do you honestly think he’d let her go?” Jason pointed out softly. “C’mon, Eric. All the evil we’ve fought. . .you know better than that.”
Eric seemed to deflate at those words, his shoulders slumping and his hands easing out of clenched fists. He shook his head. “I have to try,” he said softly.
Dumbledore shook his head. “You will not go,” he said softly. “Not until I deem you are ready.”
“And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?” Eric snapped.
“Train,” Dumbledore said simply.
“I thought the whole point to this training was for me to ready when I face my grandfather,” Eric snarled.
Dumbledore nodded. “Very true, young Snape,” he said. “Contrary to what you believe, you are not ready.”
Eric shook his head. “What do you know? I’m ready. Jason’s been training me. He’s taught me all the spells, all the defenses I need.”
“You are not ready,” Dumbledore repeated.
“And when will I be ready?” Eric said, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling.
“When I tell you that you are,” Dumbledore responded. “Then, and only then, will you be allowed to go face Voldemort.”
Eric rolled his eyes, grumbling under his breath.
“C’mon, Eric,” Jason said, tapping his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah, fine,” Eric grumbled. “We’ll be in the dungeon if anybody needs us.”
******
“Let me go, you son of a bitch!” Krista screamed at the door of her cell. She beat against it with her fist, then leaned her head against it when there was no response.
“Please let me go,” she whispered.
Sighing, she turned around, pressing her back to the door and slowly slid downward until she was seated on the floor. Hugging her knees to her chest, she rested her chin on her left knee.
Suddenly she heard the sound of a lock turning and felt the door nudge against her as it began to slowly open. Gasping, she sprang to her feet, unconsciously raising her fists in an effort to fight.
She recognized the blond-haired man that stepped into the room, sighing as he shook his head. “Really, must we do this again?” he said, drawing his wand from his coat.
“What do you want?” she demanded, unwilling to lower her fists.
“Lord Voldemort wishes to speak with you,” Malfoy said.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk to him,” Krista snapped.
“You have no choice,” he responded.
“There’s always a choice,” she said.
“Very well,” he said. “Your choices are you can come willingly or I can force you.”
Krista rolled her eyes. “Not much of a choice there, bucko,” she grumbled as he motioned to the door.
Reluctantly, she exited her room, allowing him to lead her down the corridor to Voldemort’s study.
“Ah, Muggle,” Voldemort said.
“Cut the pleasantries, Voldie,” Krista responded, rolling her eyes. “What do you want?”
“The same thing I wanted last time we spoke--my grandson,” Voldemort answered. “Since my associate has failed to bring him to me, I am forced to play my trump card, as it were.”
Krista licked her lips. “Let me guess. . .me.”
Voldemort smiled evilly. “You are bright, for a Muggle.”
She glared at him. “Eric’ll defeat you. He’s faced worse evil than you.”
He laughed, a chilling sound. “He is no match for me,” he said. “There is no greater evil than Lord Voldemort. Your precious Eric has already lost and he doesn’t even know it yet.”