Chapter Text
...
"One mistake," growled one figure, "All that work undone by a single mistake. How did we not predict that? Why after everything are we still falling to restore the balance?"
"They are humans," growled another, "They are unpredictable and destructive. Even those meant to restore the balance have lost it and succumbed to the temptation."
"And now another universe falls," whispered the first voice again, "Everything we have done and can do has failed. Humanity across the universes no longer has their faith. There is nothing more we can do."
"There has to be something," hissed the second.
"There is," declared the third figure as they stood up from the table, "We can send him once again. One final attempt to return the balance."
"He's failed before," snarked another, "We all agreed after that last disastrous attempt that he is not allowed into the worlds again."
"We need someone that can understand humans," retorted a fourth, "I say if that if he is our best chance at restoring the balance than we send him out again. One world to restore the balances. Just one to regain our strength."
"It has been ages since that human has lived in the realms of man," mused the fifth, "Would he even agree?"
There was an rattling then the one in black said, "If we agree to give him, his peace. He has lived or this half life for far too long. For that he would indeed agree."
"It is agreed," the first spoke up, "This will be our last chance."
...
"Another failed universe, Death?" Asked the green eyed man.
"As sneaky as ever, my young friend," half chuckled Death, "How long were you listening in?"
"I wasn't," he denied, "But I felt it. As I always do. What's the point of this anymore?"
Death gave the human a look before asking, "Are you done then? With your existence, you would like to cease?"
"I've been ready," admitted the man, "I never wanted this endless cycle. But you, Gods," the word was spat as if it was poison, "Won't let me rest."
Death felt for his unwilling Master. Harrison 'Harry' Potter, reminded him so much of Ignotus Peverell. Someone who had power but didn't want it. Unlike Ignotus, Death had not allowed his little Master the final peace of death.
Despite everything that he had been through. Despite the death and destruction he had seen. His Master's soul was still bright. He may call the youth his Master, but even he could not release him fully into the void. Only give him a short leave before their work started again.
Each time, Harrison became more closed off than the last. Now he barely acknowledged the existence of the entities. His Master's eyes, once full of wonder, were empty. The only light in his eyes was a faint emerald.
The only time he would react was when he would sense the universe begin to unravel. And even then it was only a sigh or a groan. Death didn't blame his Master for his attitude. Like the entities, he felt the balances shift and distort.
He had watched the universe fall into decay. Watched humanity fight, destroy, and tear down what their ancestors built. All he had to do was open his senses and he could feel the imbalance. Feel the magic drain away and the chaos build.
"It would be different this time," assured Death, "There will not be any interference."
His little Master didn't look up at him. Just the same blank stare.
Death continued, "If you go and succeed you will find the rest you so seek. We will not force you back into this existence."
That caused him to look up at Death. Those brilliant eyes held his for a few minutes before glancing over to the others. Each nodded their heads or shrugged.
"Just one universe," repeated Harry, "One more universe and I'm free. No more fighting the imbalances."
"Once that universe is back on the proper path," corrected the hooded entity.
"I want a true contract made," growled the youngest.
"Very well," replied the first.
...
Being reborn burned like hell fire through his veins. It wasn't the worst way he had come back, but it wasn't the most pleasant either. In fact, he would rate it somewhere between dying from a cursed knife and being drowned.
At least this time it wasn't as a baby. But they couldn't have at least made it easier on him? Fucking Gods.
Sitting up Harrison placed a hand under his ribs as they shifted. This body had taken quite a beating. He didn't think anything was broken though.
Looking around he found that he was in a back alley. The strength of the Ambient Magic caught him off guard. He must be in a magical district but the world's Ambient Magic was stronger than any world he'd been in before.
Standing slowly, his right leg tried to buckle out from under him. Yep still a bad right knee because fuck him apparently. If he got the chance to he was going to bite the heads off the Gods. What was the point of making his knee practically useless?!
Taking his time, Harrison was able to limp his way towards a street. He was in Diagon Alley. It wasn't how he remembered it. There were more people running around in it. Witches and wizards were dressed in robes that were older than the 90s of his original world.
When was he?
"You alright dearie?"
Harrison looked over his shoulder. A middle age woman was holding the hand of a small girl. Both wore robes and the older woman carried a wand.
"Just a bit turned around," he answered giving her a fake smile, "Could you tell me the date please? And where I am?"
She gave him an odd look but told him but said, "It's July 17, 1971. You're next to the second hand bookshop in Diagon Alley. It's two o'clock in the afternoon. Are you sure you should be out on your own? You look barely old enough to go to Hogwarts."
"Yeah," Harrison waved off her concerns, "Just a little dizzy is all. I'm meeting my father here. I'll be fine. Thanks for the information. I hope you have a nice day."
"Be safe," she called after him.
He wasn't in the time he knew. The Gods couldn't have sent him to a time that he was at least familiar with? Inconsiderate assholes.
Alright first things first. Go to Gringotta and figure out who he was in this world and if he had any vaults. Then he'd get a history book and try to find out what was different about this world.
Harrison limped towards the bank, his knee protesting with every movment. As he passed the glass of one shop he found he still had his piercing green eyes. His hair wasn't as much of a bird nest as it had been in his first life but it was still messy. His features were sharper and Harrison was pretty sure he was a pureblood. He wore a pair of black slacks, a white dress shirt, and a pair of black gloves.
Great.
As he reached the bank he bowed respectfully to the guards outside. They stared at him in surprise but he didn't wait for them to say anything. He simply entered the bank and went to the first teller. There was a decent wait time as it was mid-July.
"What do you want child?" Growled the goblin when he stepped up.
"I am here to request a full Inheritance Test," said Harrison bluntly.
Goblins preferred blunt honesty than fake smiles. If a wizard showed respect to them, it was met with mistrust but eventually returned.
The teller paused. He stared at the boy and his clothes. He had no family insignia and was wearing a simple shirt and slacks. He had no wand on him.
"Can you pay for an inheritance test?" Sneered the goblin.
"It won't be a problem," he growled in return.
They stared at each other for a moment longer. Then the goblin growled something at another. Harrison was told to follow the second goblin. He did without complain just shoving his hands in his pockets.
He was taken to a small office with a younger looking goblin at the desk. When he saw Harrison, he sneered.
"What are you doing here?" He snapped.
"Inheritance test," responded the young man, "I'd like a full one."
"Who is your family?" Demanded the Goblin.
Harrison didn't answer and stood his ground. Instead he lightly tapped into the Ambient Magic around him. A faint glow took over his eyes.
"If you won't do the Inheritance Test then find me someone who will," snapped Harrison.
He wasn't sure what changed the Goblin's mind. Whether it was the tone of his voice, his glowing green eyes, or his words, he didn't care. All that mattered was that the Goblin finally did the Inheritance test.
Harrison paid the 25 galleons for the test. Only good thing about the Gods sending him back. They made sure he had money to get by at least for a few days until he got settled.
Once the goblin was sure his money was real he was handed a ritual dagger. A scroll was placed in front of him.
"Three drops child," demanded the goblin, "No more. No less."
Harrison simply nodded his head. Without flinching he cut his finger. Once, twice, and the third. Each drop hit the scroll. For a moment nothing happened.
Then a swirl of ink spread across the parchment. Lines and words formed on the paper. The goblin grabbed the sheet and looked over it. He stared at it a second more. Then he pulled a pen and paper and began writing.
"Do you have a guardian currently?" Questioned the goblin.
Not that he knew of? Instead of answering Harrison shrugged. He held out a hand for the parchment. It was handed over if reluctantly.
Name: Harrison Atlas Peverell
Birthday: October 31, 1960
Parents: Henry Peverell (Father) deceased, Nova Peverell née Black (mother) deceased.
Blood Status: Pureblood
Well great. He was an orphan. Again. At least his name was the same this time around.
Under his status was a list of vaults that he wouldn't have access to until he was 17. At least he had a trust vault in this life. By the number of galleons in it he was sure he could make it stretch to his 17th birthday. Death must be laughing at him for his birthday. The God did always have an odd sense of humor.
There were a set of properties that he could hide out in. He didn't know if he would be attending Hogwarts in September. If he was going to save this universe he probably shouldn't.
"Are you here with anyone?" Questioned the Goblin.
"No," he said, "Just visiting before returning home."
"You don't have any guardians then," stated the goblin, "You realize that you cannot leave without a guardian?"
That startled Harrison from his reading. There was something that had caught his attention. The word 'soulmate'. What the fuck was a soulmate? And what did the goblin mean he couldn't leave? Watch him!
"Pardon?"
"You are a minor," snarled the Goblin, "Specifically you're not even Hogwarts age yet. You cannot be allowed to live on your own."
"You think you can stop me?" He asked darkly.
Harrison loosened his muscles. This body wasn't in fighting shape but he could continue to draw upon the Ambient Magic. While a lot of wizards and witches couldn't control it, Harrison had no such limitation.
His heart beat a little faster. Was this excitement? Harrison hadn't really felt anything in a long time.
The Goblin tensed but said calmly, "Little wizard, if you don't have a guardian I will have to inform the ministry. Or we can do another test."
"How would the other test help?" Questioned Harrison.
"It will reveal the closest eligible potential guardians. Up to seven in total," revealed the goblin.
Harrison weighed his options. If he let the goblin inform the ministry the chance was high they'd take him in and put him in an orphanage. Harrison didn't want a guardian breathing down his neck though.
There was no doubt in his mind. The Fates were fucking laughing at him.
Chapter Text
...
Harrison pricked his fingers and allowed two drops to fall on a new sheet of parchment. He had agreed to the blood magic and watched as lines and letters formed on the page.
Seven names began to form on the parchment.
1. Tom Marvolo Riddle
2. Corvus Lestrange
3. Corban Yaxley
4. Orion Black
5. Charlus Potter
6. Alphard Black
7. Benjamin Nott
Harrison was going to have some choice words with the Gods. Because who thought this was a good idea. He recognized some of the names but couldn't remember their significance. He heard about them in his first life.
The only one he knew right off hand was Riddle. Voldemort. Nope, no thank you. His black and white views were gone but he still didn't want to be near the Dark Lord in his current state.
Judging by the context, most of the list were Death Eaters or those loyal to Voldemort. He didn't remember enough about them to make a decision.
"Is there anyone you would suggest?" He asked.
The Goblin, Griphook, nodded. He pulled out another parchment and a quill.
"Lord Yaxley and Lord Lestrange are good choices," replied the goblin, "Corvus has two sons a few years older than you. Corban is a widower and does not have any children. Charlus Potter is a Senior Auror and is married to Dorea Black. He is more tolerant to the Dark than his brother, Lord Potter. Lord Black has two sons. And Lord Nott has a single son."
Harrison made a face. Great. He wasn't sure who was a better choice. But it sounded like Yaxley would be his best bet. He wasn't the type to put up with shit from anyone.
"Would Yaxley be likely to leave me to my own devices?"
"Most likely," replied Griphook, "As his wards will alert him should there be trouble. I work with Lord Yaxley, so I know he wouldn't treat you unfairly."
Harrison hesitated but nodded. The goblin nodded and went go the fireplace to enter the floo.
...
His wards pinged with someone trying to contact him through the floo. Corban frowned not understanding why.
He was relaxing on his sofa with a book. Most people wouldn't try to come through his floo without prior notice. That is unless it was an emergency.
Corban opened the floo connection and was surprised to see Griphook.
"Good evening," greeted Corban, "Is there an emergency? Do you need help?"
"No, my Lord," the Goblin shook his head, "But I have a situation and was hoping for some assistance. I have a young orphaned pureblood child in my office. Your name has come up on possible candidates for guardianship."
Corban froze. Had he misheard?
"Could you repeat that?"
"There is a young wizard requesting a guardian," said the Goblin again, "He was born in '60. We are unable to release him if no guardian will agree to take him."
"I'm coming through," declared Corban, "Give me five minutes."
"Of course," Griphook bowed and shut the connection.
Corban hurried and put his shoes and robes on. Grabbing a spare cloak he rushed through his floo. As soon as his feet were on the ground the Goblin had led him towards his office.
The room was a little crowded with four other goblins, one of which was behind the desk. A small child was leaning against the wall. He was short and skinny with messy black hair. The brightest green eyes that Corban had ever seen stared at him.
The child wore a simple dress shirt, a pair of slacks, and black gloves. An odd choice given it was July.
"Corban thank you for coming," said the Griphook, "This is Harrison Altas Peverell. Young Peverell, this is Lord Corban Yaxley."
Corban approached slowly and then knelt at eye level. The youth stared at him unflinching. He didn't give off a threatening aura, but his expression was closed off.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," greeted the adult.
"You as well," the young one said politely.
"Griphook tells me you're an orphan need a guardian," Corban said softly.
His magic reached out to test the child's magic. It was surprisingly strong. Stronger than even most adult's magic.
"Yes sir," replied the boy.
Griphook gave him both parchment papers. His eyes flickered through the contents. He recognized the names. Most were his fellow death eaters. Charlus was somewhat of a surprise. He was the more open minded of the Potter adults.
"Do you have any questions for me, Harrison?" Asked Corban.
Harrison shrugged his shoulders and looked away. Corban withheld a sigh and reached out a hand. The boy skirted around his hand not allowing contact.
He considered the list again. He was surprised to find Maevolo's name on the list. The boy must have a dark or a neutral leaning towards the dark core. It was an odd thing given his age. Harrison would be turning 11 in a few months and wouldn't attend Hogwarts until the following September.
"I'll take him as my ward," declared Corban, "We need to file the paperwork and set the terms."
"Of course, Lord Yaxley," said the goblin.
While Griphook filed the paperwork and prepared the contracts. Corban continued to study the younger wizard. Harrison seemed to be scratching at the back of his left hand. He couldn't see what he was doing due to the glove.
"What are you doing, Harry?" Questioned Corban.
The child tensed and glared. He quickly stopped his actions and crossed his arms.
"It's Harrison," corrected the boy.
Corban paused. That was the second time the boy corrected him. He opened his mouth to say something but Harrison's head snapped up. Then he looked towards the doorway with narrowed eyes.
A moment later an older man came into view. He had dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. They considered Corban a moment before turning to the child. Harrison was no longer leaning against the wall.
Corvus Lestrange. Maybe Corban should have expected that the man would have some alert system in place if his name came up in the bank. It was an old system few followed anymore.
"A minor without a guardian?"? Asked Corvus already knowing the answer, "What is your name child?"
"Harrison Atlas Peverell," introduced the boy, "And you are Corvus Lestrange I presume."
Corvus approached and there was a subtle tensing of the boy's shoulders. His expression was blank, almost bored, but his magic was stirring. Corban watched unsure of what was about to happen.
Corvus held out his hand towards the boy, who flinched back as if expecting to be struck. Harrison's gaze turned calculating as Corvus drew his arm back.
"Forgive me," apologized Corvus, "I was just greeting you. It is not my intention to harm."
Harrison relaxed slightly. His posture was more guarded than a minute ago. Corban didn't blame him. From his experience children that had been abused didn't respond well to unexpected actions.
Corban stepped closer to his charge and rested a hand on his shoulder. Harrison's entire body stiffened but he didn't move away.
"I'm his guardian," informed Corban, "You are a little late."
Corvus's gaze returned to him and there was a hint of anger. But Corban wasn't going to stand down. He wouldn't let anyone threaten or intimidate his ward.
"So it seems," hummed Corvus, "Griphook?"
"Mr. Peverell chose Lord Yaxley," said the goblin almost bored, "It is his choice."
"Very well," said the Lestrange Lord, "Good day then. Corban."
"Corvus," he returned neutrally.
They waited until Corvus left the room. When they were alone once again, Griphook returned.
"Here is the paperwork," he handed the parchment and a quill, "Sign on the dotted lines. Mr. Peverell, would you please sign here?"
Griphook pointed to a line under the guardianship contract. The young man read the document carefully. Smart child. Most wizards signed a contract without reading it.
When Harrison was done he signed the document and slid it over. He did the same and passed it back to the Goblin.
"Thank you for the assistance," Harrison told the goblins, "And the contracts."
"You're welcome, young wizard," the teller responded, "Until next time, little wizard."
Chapter Text
...
Harrison eyed the wizard. Corban Yaxley. He couldn't remember anything significant about him. They could have fought in one of his previous lives. But it was too far in the past and nothing was sticking.
"Would you like me to get anything from your home before we go to mine?" Asked the man, "Or do you need something from Diagon Alley before we leave?"
They were close to the bank entrance. Harrison probably should take advantage of the opportunity and grab some history books. At the same time though, he was tired to his core and just wanted to sleep.
"History books please," whispered Harrison.
He wasn't sure if Corban heard him but the man didn't ask him to repeat himself. Instead the wizard gestured for him to follow. They walked towards the shop a few buildings down.
It wasn't a large bookstore, but it was stocked well. Harrison followed the wizard as they grabbed a few of the books. Corban grabbed a few books but Harrison was no longer paying any attention.
There was a tug on his magic. A call really. Curious, he started searching for the source. There was a soft whisper that tickled his mind.
"Harrison, are you alright?" asked Corban.
Harrison jumped startled by the question. Corban was watching him, concern and wariness mixed together. He reached a hand out to Harrison. Harrison flinched back, expecting to be hit.
Corban's face pinched and his hand retreated. Harrison didn't want his pity or his sympathy. He wanted his peace.
"Let's pay for these and return to my house," the older man said, "You can read and relax there."
Harrison nodded. He followed the older wizard to the front. The shopkeeper, an older woman, smiled and greeted them. Corban paid and led him outside.
They walked side by side towards a house a block from the Alley. Corban's magic reached out and touched his own. It was tentative and Harrison knew the man was feeling his emotions.
"Why are you wearing gloves in summer?" Corban questioned.
"I don't like my hands being uncovered," answered Harrison curtly.
It was none of his business.
"You're going to roast in the sun," countered the older wizard, "We'll need to get you something better than those gloves."
"My hands will stay covered," Harrison bit out.
"If it's a scar or birthmark," explained the man, "Don't worry about it. My father was a potions master and had scars all over his hands and arms."
"Yaxley, leave it," hissed Harrison icily.
For a moment they just stared at each other before Yaxley raised his hands in surrender. Harrison eyed him for a moment longer before relaxing slightly.
"I have to apparate us back to my house," informed Corban, "I need to key you into the wards as my ward. Okay?"
Harrison hesitated but nodded his head. They moved towards an alleyway between the shops. Corban's magic swirled around him and pressed against his own. He tried to not show how uncomfortable it made him.
The air felt thin for a second and then they were gone. When he opened his eyes they were no longer in an alley but outside of a manor. In front of them was a yard and garden. The ward shimmered in front of them.
Corban gently took his hand and pressed it into the wards. They allowed the contact and pulled him inside.
"Welcome home," murmured the man, "It's not much but I hope you'll like it here."
Harrison didn't respond and pulled his hand away. He glanced over the house. It was a modest size with a nice looking garden. The Ambient Magic was warm against him.
"We're on the edge of Hogsmeade," added Corban, "You can visit the village as long as you inform myself or Pips, my house elf. Sound reasonable?"
"Sure," muttered Harrison, "What are the rules here?"
"You are allowed to wander the grounds and use the library," he said, "Like I said you can visit Hogsmeade as long as you inform me or Pips. The ritual room and potion labs are off limits without supervision. You may come into my study if the door is open. If it's closed knock first. You will eat three meals a day."
Harrison nodded.
"I work at the Ministry. I leave around eight thirty every morning. I have Wednesdays and Sundays off," continued Corban, "If there is a problem or an emergency, feel free to find me. If you're sick, have a nightmare, or just want someone to talk to, don't hesitate. I'm not a good healer or mind healer, but I will help the best I can."
"Yes sir," murmured Harrison quietly.
"If you don't understand something," Corban finished, "Ask. No question is dumb or wrong. Got it?"
"Got it," repeated Harrison.
"Good," the adult smiled, "How about a tour of the house? Then I'll show you your room."
The older man was leading him into the house. At the door they slipped their boots off and Corban removed his outer robe. It was hung up and then they went down the hall.
"That's my office," Corban pointed at the door on the right, "That is the dining room. This is the kitchen and this is the parlor."
The living room was simple. There were two nice couches and two chairs around a fireplace. On the opposite end was a large window that overlooked the garden.
They then went down the hall to the library. It was larger than what he expected. There was a couch and two chairs in front of the fire place. There was a staircase that went to the second level and there was a large oak desk against the opposite wall.
They went up to the second floor where he was shown his room. There was a bed and nightstand on the left and a desk, wardrobe, and a dresser. The curtains were closed and the lights were dim.
"Pips cleaned and made up the bed," commented the man, "You can unpack later or we can get you more clothes and things tomorrow. My room is down the hall."
"Alright," murmured the child.
"I'll see you at dinner, Harrison," said Corban softly, "Come find me when you're ready."
Then he was gone, leaving the door slightly open. Harrison closed it behind the man. He set his book bag down on the bed.
His eyes drifted around the room. It was bigger than what he was used to. For a moment his chest felt tight.
Taking a few steps, he sank onto the bed. It was a soft mattress and he couldn't help the way his body just gave out. His eyelids were heavy and it wasn't long before he was fast asleep.
...
It was dinner time when Corban knocked on his ward's door. He hadn't heard a peep from the child since leaving the room. When there wasn't acknowledgement from inside he opened the door. He huffed lightly when he saw why the boy wasn't answering him.
On the bed, Harrison was curled up still in the clothes he arrived in. His breathing was slow and even. He must have been exhausted.
"Harrison, it's dinner," Corban shook the youth.
He didn't want to disturb him but the boy needed food. His ribs were visible and he looked like a stiff wind would blow him over.
Harrison stirred and groaned. Then he curled back in on himself.
"Go 'way," he grumbled.
"Dinner, Harry," Corban repeated, "C'mon. Wakey, wakey. Let's go. We can go back to sleep after."
"M'not hungry," the child mumbled.
Corban frowned and pressed a hand to the youth's forehead. He didn't feel a fever, if anything he was colder than normal.
"Just a bowl of broth then," promised the man, "You can't skip meals, Harrison. You're too skinny. And don't argue."
"Fine," sighed the younger, "But just the soup."
Corban smiled slightly and helped him sit up. Once on his feet the kid seemed to wake up more. They walked slowly down to the dining room. Corban noticed something he hadn't before. The child was heavily favoring one leg.
"Is chicken noodle okay?" He asked hoping that the child wouldn't notice his attention.
"Yes sir," slurred Harrison.
He guided his charge to the chair closest to the hallway. It would give him an easier escape. He had a feeling his ward would appreciate that.
Pips appeared with their bowls of soup. Upon seeing Harrison, she froze. She was studying the boy. He returned her scrutiny with an even look.
Magic began to lazily flow through the air. Pips and Harrison were measuring each other. It wasn't until Pips' ears twitched in amusement did the tension disappear.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, young Master," Pips greeted, "I'm Pips. Would you like something else to eat besides broth? You are too small."
Harrison shook his head and she placed the plates in front of them. Then she popped away.
"She speaks well for a house elf," dryly commented Harrison.
"I taught her myself," admitted Corban, "I didn't want a house elf that only spoke a butchered form of english. You will treat her with respect."
Harrison raised an eyebrow and sipped his soup. He was eating slow but was finishing the bowl. That was good.
"She's smart," Harrison hummed.
"Yes," agreed Corban, "Most people overlook the fact elves have magic of their own."
"Elves can use wandless and wordless magic," added the boy, "Unless you put up specific wards against them, they can bypass most wards. If you mistreat a house elf, they can go against you."
Corban blinked at the boy in surprise. That wasn't information many knew. Not even a lot of magicals realized elves had their own type of magic.
"You're right," murmured the man, "Not many know or believe that. Where did you learn that from?"
Harrison shrugged and sipped his soup. Personal experience maybe? Corban didn't know anything about Harrison's family. All he knew was that the Lord and Lady were deceased. How recent was their passing?
Harrison shrugged but didn't answer. They finished the meal in silence. When they were done, Corban sent the dishes back to the kitchen.
"Let's go upstairs," said Corban, "Do you have any pyjamas? Or do I need to transfigure a pair?"
"Transfigure please," he replied.
Corban led him back up to the bedroom. The books were still on the bed, which he'd move to the night stand later. For now, he conjured a set of pyjamas for his new ward.
"Thank you," Harrison said quietly.
"Do you need anything else?" Asked Corban, "A drink, or a snack, or a pain reliever?"
"No," answered the youth, "Goodnight, sir."
"Good night, Harrison," he murmured and left the room.
He only made it halfway down the hall before he heard a shout, "What the fuck?!"
...
Harrison touched the mark on his chest. It was a large mark. An elder tree with a familiar triangle within a circle and a line through it. It was all bright green the same color as Death Magic. Around it was a pale snake blue eyes.
Mother fucker in the name of the Old Gods was this shit?! He'd never had a mark like this before!
Before he could do much more than gape at it his door burst open. Corban entered with his wand drawn. Long forgotten instincts kicked in and Harrison lunged away from where the wand was pointing. He ducked and rolled towards the wardrobe.
Upon not seeing a threat, Corban lowered his wand. Harrison, not trusting him, stood. He was leaning against the wood, keeping distance between him and the other wizard.
Corban kneeled in order to look less threatening. He showed his empty hands.
"Are you hurt?" Corban asked calmly.
"What the hell is this?!" Shouted the younger, ignoring the question.
He lifted his shirt to expose the marking. Corban stared at the mark for a minute and then he cursed.
"This is a soulmark," the man revealed, "It appears around your 11th birthday. You just got yours early. Not an uncommon occurrence. Especially if you have an older soulmate."
Soulmate? What? That was never apart of his previous lives. The Gods were laughing at him. He knew they were. They must have added this in order to get him out of his apathy.
Fuck. The. Gods.
Corban's gaze softened at his confusion and said, "95% of both wizards and muggles have soulmates. The larger the mark, the more powerful the wizards."
Again. Fuck. The. Gods!
His was no doubt Voldemort. Why him? Couldn't he have been paired with anyone else? A muggle, or a squib, or a witch. Even a werewolf. Why did it have to be him?
Corban gave an understanding smile and said, "Soulmates are the exception to the blood purity rules. Dark and Light, neutral and pure. Doesn't matter, Harrison. Your soulmate is part of you. The Gods will it."
Harrison stared at the man. This was fucked. Just completely fucked.
"Can I see?" Questioned the older wizard.
Reluctantly Harrison allowed him to see the mark. The man traced a finger around the snake, the tree, and then the rune. His touch was soft and almost comforting.
Harrison realized the man knew his soulmate. There were no words exchanged. Only the barest hints of surprise.
"It's beautiful," whispered Corban, "May I tell you who it is?"
Harrison shrugged. He already knew but saying that wouldn't end well.
"His name us Tom Marvolo Riddle," said Corban, "He goes by Marvolo though. I've known him for years."
Marvolo was his name before Voldemort. Interesting. Did this mean that Tom wasn't a raging asshole yet?
"Okay," mumbled Harrison.
"Do you want to meet him?" Asked his guardian.
Harrison was tired. Exhaustion had set into his bones and all he wanted was to go to bed.
"I'm going to bed," said Harrison, "Night."
"We can discuss meeting him in the morning," agreed Corban, "If you have any questions or if you need anything, come find me. Good night, Harrison."
Corban stood and Harrison stared at him for a moment. Then he moved to his bed and Corban left him to sleep.
...
Well that explained why Marvolo's name was on the list. He knew that his friend would have some reaction. Maybe he could make their first meeting a bit more peaceful.
Maybe.
He was surprised that Lord and Lady Peverell hadn't told their son about soulmates. Did they disapprove like so many people did nowadays? Most of the disapproval came from muggleborns and halfbloods raised by muggles.
He'd wait to see what the youth said in the morning. Keeping this from his Lord would not bode well for his continual good health.
Chapter Text
...
Harrison waited until he was sure that Corban had gone to bed before slipping out of his room. He hadn't been able to sleep despite his exhaustion. His mind was buzzing with too much.
The mark was a reminder that everything he did wasn't really his choice. His decisions didn't matter because Fate and Destiny would always pull him in the direction they wanted him to go. If he wanted to piss the Gods he'd completely ignore the mark and go about trying to save this world without Voldemort. He doubted the Gods would take kindly to that. Not that they could do much anymore.
Slipping outside, Harrison made his way across the grounds. There were lights scattered throughout the grassy area. At the edge, hidden behind some bushes was a bench.
Harrison reached out his magic towards the otherside. No pulse came back in response. A growl escaped him. This version of him hadn't formed any contracts yet. He would have to start from the beginning.
Leaning back Harrison cast his senses out searching for an appropriate spirit. Most creatures were sleeping or hunting. He was tempted to settle on the smallest animal he could find. But if he did that it wouldn't help him later.
A soft pulse in return responded. Curious, Harrison sent a little bit of his own power towards the being. It was hesitant, unsure, and afraid. But it didn't immediately run away.
An Elemental spirit. A young one if he had to guess. Wild and pure magic. They didn't have a body so they didn't have the physical weaknesses that corporeal beings had.
Around him, red orbs floated through the trees. It was a young elemental of fire, if he was not mistaken. Raising one hand, he called out to his magic.
A magic circle sluggish formed in front of his hand. The green light shone bright against the dark surroundings. Harrison smiled when he saw a smaller orb enter the circle.
The Fire Elemental was cautious, but it approached. The warmth of the orbs reminded him of summer days. It was nice and the heat seeped into his cold bones. Another circle formed in front of his forming the contract between them.
"What is your name?" He asked.
There was a pause and a crackling. Harrison waited patiently and watched the Elemental. It seemed to be debating whether to give him a true name or not.
"Ash," responded the Spirit.
He should have expected that, it was a Fire Elemental after all. That was fine.
"I am Harrison Atlas Peverell," announced Harrison pushing his magic between the two sides of the contract, "As a Necromancer, I seek to form a contract between myself and the Fire Elemental Ash. Do you accept my terms and conditions?"
There was another crackle and the flames turned white and purple.
"Yes," whispered Ash.
"My condition is the protection of me and mine," said the teen, "In exchange, I shall protect you and yours. You may leave whenever you wish and may choose a successor."
"Agreed," spoke the spirit.
"Then our comtract is formed," he finished.
The warmth of the flame. On his right arm, a rune etched itself into his skin. A simple drop of his blood would activate it.
Ash faded back into the world around him. He would need to recreate his cards to make for easier hiding what he was. Contract runes were too obvious to most people.
Harrison's stomach growled, interrupting the peace. It was late, probably midnight. Time to go inside.
Quietly he slipped inside and went to the kitchen. Everything was quiet, the house was still and there was a hint of magic in the air. Pips or the wards most likely.
Grabbing an apple, he sat at the island. It was quiet here. The only sounds were the clock and the fire. It was strange being back in the world of the living. For so long his only company were the Gods. Harrison forgot what it was like to be with people.
Could he really do what the Gods wanted him to? Restore the balance of the world. What a ridiculous notion. How was he supposed to restore balance in a magical world?
Humans saw everything in black and white now. Ever since the war with Grindelwald. Light Magic was good. Dark Magic was evil. Once upon a time, Harrison had been one of those people.
He knew that most magic was a tool. It wasn't inherently good or bad. It all depended on how it was used. Both were needed to keep the balance.
What had Sirius said in his first life? The dark and light are a push and a pull. Neither was better than the other.
He was just tired. If he didn't succeed he'd never find the peace he wanted. But was the world worth the effort?
"Harrison, are you alright?" a voice asked, "You should be sleeping."
Harrison looked up to see Corban standing in the doorway. He wore a plain t-shirt and sweat pants. There were shadows under his eyes. Did Pips wake him? Why did they care?
"Fine," he responded and took a bite of the fruit.
"Nightmare?" Inquired the older wizard, "Or something else?"
"Nothing is wrong," denied Harrison as he took another bite of his apple.
Corban studied him and leaned against the wall. For a few minutes, the silence was broken by the ticking clock and the popping of the fire.
"What's your favorite color?" Corban asked randomly.
Harrison hesitated, confused. Where was the man going with this?
"Dark green," he answered hesitantly, "What about you sir?"
"Dark blue," responded Corban with a small smile, "You don't have to call me, sir, Harrison."
Harrison shrugged. What did he expect him to say? He didn't know him, but he did agree to become his ward.
"Have you decided when you would like to meet, Marvolo?" Asked the adult.
Harrison tensed. Meeting the Dark Lord, his soulmate. Harrison didn't particularly want to... wait. What had Corban said?
"Marvolo, sir?" He asked.
"That's the name he prefers," answered Corban, "He doesn't like his first name you see."
Harrison hummed. He'd have to meet the man at some point. He was what 33 years and some change older than this body? So 43 going on 44. Not that it mattered. His soul was far older than anyone alive. To the point he lost track of his actual age.
"I guess I should," huffed Harrison, "What is he like, sir?"
Corban was staring at him strangely. He felt uncomfortable. Like the man could see past the mask he wore.
"He's smart," started the wizard, "Ambitious, cunning, and loyal. We went to Hogwarts together. I met him the train and we've been friends since. He is a tough man to please, but if you respect him and listen, he is kind. Marvolo is very protective of the ones he considers his."
Slowly Harrison nodded. It sounded as if the man was still sane. Which was good. He could work with someone who was sane.
Absentmindedly Harrison rubbed at his aching knee. There were a few memories of previous injuries and the pain had returned.
"Are you injured somewhere?" Corban questioned.
"My knee hurts a bit," admitted Harrison, "But it's not important."
It always hurt. Ever since the second or was it the third life he lived? Like the runes on his left hand it was a constant.
"Does your knee hurt a lot or is it the weather?" He inquired.
Harrison shrugged not really answering. He wasn't a child, nor did he need to be coddled. He pulled his hand back from his knee.
"Harrison, you need to communicate with me," informed the wizard, "I'm not a mind reader."
"It hurts," answered the teenager, "Not a lot, just an ache."
"Do you want something for it?" offered the man.
"No," responded Harrison, "It'll go away. Thank you though, sir."
That earned a light huff from the man. Then the older wizard's face became more serious.
"How much does the knee hurt?" Questioned Corban, "Scale of one to ten?"
Harrison stared blankly at him. It was just an ache? Something noticeable but not a hindrance. He was used to it.
"A four or a five," mumbled Harrison.
Corban's brow furrowed and he pursed his lips. Harrison didn't look at his guardian. This man was different from what he expected. He didn't understand why he was so different.
"Would you allow me to see it, Harrison?" Requested the man, "If you don't want me to heal it, that's okay."
For a minute Harrison was quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Finally he nodded. Corban approached slowly and held out his hands.
"May I touch you, Harrison?" Asked Corban.
It was so odd. Corban treated him like he was a skittish animal. As if one false move would cause him to bolt. Maybe that was what he was.
"You may," he murmured.
Corban kneeled in front of him and rolled the right pants leg up. Scars ran from half way up his calf to just above the knee. They were raised and red making them look more recent.
"Where did these come from?" Queried Corban softly, "They're not natural scars."
"My last guardian," muttered the child.
"Your father," Corban breathed, "Did he give you those?"
Harrison shrugged. He couldn't explain the truth. He'd sound like a lunatic. At the same time he didn't want to lie to Corban.
"I've had worse," whispered Harrison, "Sir."
Corban didn't respond for a moment and gently touched the marks. Then, the familiar warmth of healing magic surrounded him. The ache faded some but that was all that happened.
"I'm sorry," sighed Corban, "This is beyond me. We should see a healer, if the pain gets any worse."
"Alright," murmured Harrison, "May I go to bed now?"
"Of course," allowed Corban, "Let's get you upstairs. Sleep well."
"You as well, sir," returned the boy.
...
Corban checked on his ward before leaving the house. Harrison was asleep in his bed and at some point Pips had elevated his knee with a pillow. While Pips was uncertain about Corban having a child in the manor she'd taken to looking after him.
Instead of waking the boy he left a note letting him know where Corban went. Then he flooed to Slytherin Manor.
When he exited the floo, the house elf greeted him. He was led through the halls towards the study. Marvolo was sitting in front of the fire. A stack of parchment and a book laid out.
"Good morning, Corban," greeted Marvolo warmly.
Marvolo was a tall man, an inch or two higher than himself. He had short black hair and blue eyes.
"Morning, my friend," replied Corban, "I hope you are well."
A house elf popped in and brought both men a cup of tea. Marvolo nodded his thanks to the elf and took a sip.
"I am," assured the older wizard, "What brings you by, Corban? We spoke a few days ago."
Both men sipped at their respective teas. Marvolo's gaze was piercing, but patient. Corban would have to choose his words carefully.
"I was called to Gringotts yesterday," slowly began Corban, "A child came to the bank for an Inheritance Test. Which then needed a guardian list. He chose me to be his guardian."
Marvolo was still as his friend explained. He did not seem angry yet, just curious.
"Who was the child?" asked Marvolo calmly.
"His name is Harrison Atlas Peverell," disclosed the man, "So far he's been fairly closed off."
"Peverell?" Inquired Marvolo with more interest.
"Yes," confirmed Corbin, "Telling you, I have a ward isn't the main reason why I'm here. I saw his soulmark last night. Apparently Lord and Lady Peverell didn't deign to tell him about soulmates. To put it mildly his reaction wasn't very Heir like. Though an understandable one. Thinking something was wrong I entered his room and saw his soulmark. Well I recognized it immediately as yours."
Marvolo stiffened. His magic began to swirl about in irritation. Corban did not move. There was no way for him to know the thoughts his friend had.
"Let me see," demanded Marvolo all of his previous humor gone.
Corban met his Lord's gaze without any hesitation. He lowered his Occlumency shields allowing his Lord to see into his memories. Marvolo gripped his chin and made Corban look in his eyes. Marvolo entered his mind none to gently.
Marvolo looked through the last 24 hours worth of memories. From meeting the boy to him going to bed. His magic was still agitated but no longer did he feel murderous.
"What is your opinion of him, Corban?" Asked the elder, "Your feelings, not factual things."
"He's been hurt," confessed the younger, "In many ways, physical and mental. From what I can tell he's suspicious of everyone as a default."
Marvolo released his face and leaned back in his chair. The man was staring at him with an unreadable expression.
Corban sat back and sipped his cooling tea. Marvolo didn't look upset or mad. No, his Lord looked intrigued.
"Invite him here, Corban," instructed Marvolo, "Tomorrow if possible."
"Yes, my Lord," agreed the wizard.
...
Harrison rubbed at his eyes as he slowly woke up. His knee was propped up on a pillow which he hadn't done. Had Yaxley done it? No, he would've woken up. Pips then?
With a tired groan he stood up and walked across the room. His knee twinged with the movement, but the pain was bearable.
The curtains were thrown open. Outside, the sun was high. Was it afternoon already?
Harrison made his way downstairs to find the house empty. Where was his guardian? Had something happened?
A small part of him was worried. It was irrational, but a small voice wondered if his presence was the cause. If somehow, his past sins followed him to this life.
The living room was quiet and clean. Nothing was out of place and there wasn't a sign of a struggle. The wards were untouched, as far as he could tell. As he entered the kitchen he found a note waiting for him.
Went to meet with Marvolo. Will be back this afternoon. Please remember to eat.
Corban Yaxley
That's who Corban was going to meet. Voldemort, his soulmate. How would that meeting go?
Was Marvolo a psychopath, a genocidal, power hungry, bastard? Or was he just a dark lord who wanted equal rights for magical beings?
There was a soft pop and a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast appeared in front of him. Next to it was a cup of apple juice.
"Thank you," he murmured, unsure of the creature's location.
Pips magic flared slightly to alert him that she heard. He'd have to get used to that.
Eating the meal, he went back upstairs to get changed. First order of business was recreating his cards. He would not go around wearing his contract marks.
His closet contained a pair of plain trousers, a grey shirt, a belt, and a cloak. His new boots were next to the door. From there he went to the library.
After finding a book about runes, he set out recreating his deck. It was simple enough, just a rune drawn onto a card and his blood. But each had their own little bit of power.
He spent the next couple of hours finishing his deck. Each card was tucked into his jacket pocket. A knock sounded on the doorway of the library.
Corban was standing in the doorway with a faint smile. He didn't look like he had been tortured. There wasn't any shaking from a crucio.
"Hey," Harrison murmured, "Are you okay?"
"Of course, Harrison," said Corban, "Would you like to join me for lunch?"
"Alright," the teen agreed and stood.
Together they went down the hallway and towards the dining room. Corban laid a hand gently on his shoulder.
"Marvolo would like to meet you," told Corban, "Tomorrow evening, if that is alright with you. We could spend the day together and do something."
Harrison shrugged and sat at the table. He picked up a sandwich. He'd meet the man sooner or later. Better to just get it over with.
"We can," agreed Harrison, "Thank you sir. For agreeing to be my guardian."
Corban blinked in surprise. That was not what the adult expected, Harrison realized.
"You are welcome," replied the wizard, "You're my ward now. My family, Harrison."
Harrison paused at his words. He stared at his sandwich and tried not to think about that. Family, huh? What did that word even mean for someone like him?
"We will get you some new clothes today," continued Corban after a moment, "And other essentials."
"Sounds fun," dryly commented the boy.
Corban grinned in response. This was the first time he saw his guardian's face brighten. It was nice to see.
Chapter Text
...
Fuck. Shopping.
Harrison forgot how much he hated shopping. All the noise, people, and general lack of privacy. His magic was reacting to his annoyance, sending tendrils through the area.
Corban noticed, of course, and smiled. His magic was amused by his antics. The bastard. He wanted to kick the man in the shins. Still he stepped closer to his guardian when someone came too close.
His guardian's gaze softened and placed a hand on his shoulder. They had left the house 10 minutes ago and his patience was already beginning to fray. He was directed into the closest store.
Inside, was a mix of muggle and magical clothing. Both men and women's apparel lined the racks and displays. Harrison grabbed jeans and sweatpants. Things that were simple and practical.
"Are you sure that's all you want?" Asked Corban.
Harrison ignored him. His guardians' tone implied the he wouldn't accept only those. Not surprising.
"It's what I'm comfortable with, sir," countered Harrison.
"Fair," conceded Corban, "Let's check out the formal wear."
With a sigh, Harrison allowed his guardian to pull him away. Corban chose several dress shirts and pants. Then he turned to him.
"Go find some ties, cuff links, and shoes," the older man instructed, "Then we'll leave."
"Sure, sir," the teen mumbled.
Harrison went to the shoe section and searched for the appropriate footwear. They had a decent collection and were mostly cheap. Finally, he settled on a pair of black sneakers.
As he turned he bumped right into someone his own age. When they went to get their items Harrison's heart stopped. An ache that never went away from his first life. Sirius Black at 11 years old was in front of him.
"Oh sorry," said the child, "Are you alright?"
"Yea," stuttered the young necromancer.
Sirius gave a smile and moved towards the clothing section. Harrison took a shaky breath. He should go after him. Apologize, say hi, or just say something. Anything.
But he was froze. Barely able to stare at the back of his former godfather. Fuck. Why couldn't he speak?
A hand touched his shoulder and Harrison flinched away from it. He wrenched himself away from the touch. His breath came in quick and harsh.
"Hey, it's okay," soothed his guardian, "You're alright. Take a deep breath."
He shook his head and took a step back from the man. The air shifted with his magic. It was wild, unrestrained, and untamed.
"Calm, Harrison," the wizard's voice was warm and kind, "Take a deep breath."
He didn't realize he had begun hyperventilating until that point. He tried to reach for Harrison again. Another flinch. Corban knelt so that they were on the same level.
"It's okay," repeated the older wizard, "You are safe."
"I..." the youth tried to speak, but his mouth wouldn't work.
"Just breathe, Harry," soothed Corban.
Harrison didn't have a choice. He let the other's words wash over him. In, one two three four, hold, one, two, three, and out, one, two, three, four, five. Again, and again. Until his breathing was back under control.
From the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius watching. Sirius... his breathing hitched again.
"Hey, focus on me," called the guardian, "Keep your eyes on mine."
Again, he repeated the exercise until his heart beat was normal and his hands weren't shaking. Corban waited patiently, his blue eyes watching.
"How are you feeling, Harry?" Queried his guardian.
"Tired," Harrison murmured, "Can we go home?"
"Of course," Corban stood and offered his hand.
Harryshook his head refusing the hand as they went to pay for what they had. When finished, Corban led him back out onto the streets. They went straight for the apparition point. Where they apparated back home and he left to go straight to his room.
...
When the teenager had run upstairs, Corban sighed. That was an intense panic attack. Was it because of the kid he ran into or was it his memories that caused the reaction?
"Is Little Master alright, Master Yaxley?" Pips asked, popping in.
"He'll be fine, Pips," answered Corban with a wave, "He had a panic attack in the shops. Do you think you can get an estimate on his sizes for me? I'll send them to the shops to get the rest of what he needs."
"I can, sir," the house elf nodded, "Do you want me to get Little Master a hot drink?"
"Maybe some hot chocolate," he agreed.
"Of course," chirped the house elf and disappeared.
Corban moved to the library and sat on the couch. Harrison had been jumpy all day. He was tense and ready to bolt. An abused child. There was little doubt about it.
Corban didn't know much about abuse. It wasn't exactly talked about, especially since most abusers were Light and muggleborn. Dark witches and wizards saw children for the blessing they were.
It would explain the child's skittishness and closed off attitude. Corban's only hope was that Harrison would learn to trust him.
"Hot Chocolate for Little Master and Tea for Big Master," chirped the elf and handed the drinks over.
"Thanks, Pips," Corban murmured.
Then she was gone leaving Corban to take the drinks upstairs. Harrison's door was cracked open. Inside the child was laying on his bed. He wasn't asleep but the exhaustion was evident.
He looked up when Corban knocked on the doorframe. There was a small flash of recognition and fear. The latter made his gut twist.
"Hey," greeted the adult softly, "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit," muttered the youth.
Corban huffed lightly. While he didn't approve of the language he'd allow it for now. Slowly he moved closer and Harrison tensed a little. The man didn't move any faster and instead slowly handed him the hot cocoa. Harrison sniffed it cautiously and then his eyes lit up at the scent of hot coco.
"Thanks," mumbled the teenager and began sipping.
"I ordered some books from a friend," Corban said, "About abuse. I'm not a healer or mind healer. And while I want to help, I'm not sure what the best course is."
"M'not weak," the child snapped.
"Not in the least," agreed Corban, "Everyone needs a little help though. I want to be the one to help you. If you'll allow me to."
That earned him a suspicious look. It was fair, the man knew that. He was asking the boy to let his guard down.
"It's an offer," he said quietly, "For when or if you are ready. Okay?"
That gained a very small nod. They sipped at their respective drinks in silence. Then Corban decided to bring up his lord's offer.
"Marvolo would still like to meet you, tomorrow," the man stated, "If you are okay with it, we'd have the meeting there at his manor. If not do you have somewhere you'd rather meet him?"
"There is fine," whispered Harry.
"Great," grinned the man, "I'll make arrangements. Get some sleep, kid. You had a rough day. Even if it's just a nap it'll make you feel better."
Harrison shrugged and Corban went back to his study.
Chapter Text
...
Frowning Harrison tried to smooth down his new green dress shirts. He'd tucked it into his black slacks in an attmept to look presentable. He very much doubted he'd succeeded in doing so.
Corban had gotten his measurements right and his clothes fit nicely. At least the ones that needed to be fitted. His new jeans and sweatpants were baggy but comfy.
He'd also taken a bath and changed into clean clothes. Nerves pooled in his gut, but his magic was calm. A knock echoed throughout the room and Corban poked his head in.
"Are you ready?" Asked Corban softly as he looked Harrison up and down with approval.
Harrison nodded grabbed his cane and followed the man down the stairs. The nerves were still there, twisting his insides. They headed right for the floo room.
"Ready?" questioned his guardian.
Harrison hesitated, not answering. Corban's expression remained understanding.
"I won't lie, he can be intimidating," said the older wizard, "But as long as you show him respect, he will treat you kindly. Are you ready, Harrison?"
That might be a bit of a problem. He wasn't known for being respectful, in any life. Respect was earned and not freely given. But Corban trusted his lord. And, while the Gods didn't give him much information. This world was supposed to be different.
"Yes, sir," whispered the child.
"Alright," said Corban patting his shoulder and despite himself, Harrison flinched, "We're going to floo directly into Slytherin Manor. He's expecting us so you'll go first. Have you ever flooed before?"
"Once," admitted the younger, "When I was younger. Sir."
"You'll do fine," Corban reassured, "Now, remember the address is Slytherin Manor."
Harrison stepped forward and threw a pinch of floo powder and called out the address. The green flames enveloped him. Everything turned around him and he was spat out. He tripped over his feet. As he tried to regain his footing his knee buckled.
Fucking floos! The gods were laughing at him. He knew they were. Why did floos always hate him?!
A pair of strong arms wrapped around him, keeping him upright. They were not tight, just supporting him. Harrison looked up into blue eyes.
The man had black hair and pale skin. There was a slight upturn to his lips. An older Tom Riddle than the one Harrison saw during his first life. He didn't look like the Voldemort he knew. His scent was calming and warmth spread from where the hands were gripping his arms.
Harrison hissed low as his knee ached. He switched his cane to his opposite hand and rubbed at his knee. The Dark Lord's grip loosened, but he did not fully release the boy.
"Easy, child," soothed Slytherin in a low voice, "Are you okay?"
"My knee gives me trouble, sir," whispered Harrison, "I'll be fine."
"Of course," Marvolo released the boy.
The elder wizard straightened and Harrison felt his own posture mirror the movement. The hands switched from his arms to his shoulders. Don't let them see your weakness. Weakness will get you killed.
Marvolo looked like he wanted to say something but the floo flared green. Corban stepped through gracefully. His blue eyes flicked between Harrison and Marvolo. He raised am eyebrow in question and Harrison shrugged. After a moment Marvolo released his shoulders but didn't move away from him.
The two men gave each other pleasantries and Harrison shut them out. Around him the magic of the manor swirled. There were different kinds of well of power. In some places he could sense Deaths. No doubt either traitors or enemies of the Dark Lords.
Whispers of the dead called to him. At first they were quiet as if they didn't sense him. When they did sense him and that he could hear them they got louder.
Too loud.
Their pleas were desperate. All he could hear were their screams and the cries for him.
"Necromancer!"
"Death's Master!"
"Kill him!"
"Destroy him!"
"NECROMANCER!"
Harrison covered his ears and shook his head. The voices wouldn't stop. The cries grew louder.
What the fuck? He tried to pull back his senses away from the death but it surged forward not letting him go.
Hands touched his shoulders and his magic reacted on instincts. His magic surged outwards and the others were thrown across the room. The dead were silenced by the blast.
Silence. Blessed Silence.
Breathing harshly, he stared wide eyed at the other two. Neither seemed upset. Instead both men wore surprised expressions.
"What did I tell you, my friend?" Questioned Corban, "A powerful young wizard indeed."
"That was not what I was expecting," Marvolo chuckled.
Harrison didn't move or say anything. They weren't angry with him? He didn't understand.
Neither adult seemed to be injured. Marvolo it seemed had remained on his feet. Corban was sitting up watching him.
"Sorry, sir," apologized the teenager, "Didn't mean to..."
"It's fine, child," dismissed Marvolo, "Corban is correct. You are a powerful young man."
Harrison stared blankly at him. Corban always seemed impressed by his magic. But for the Dark Lord to?
Marvolo stepped closer to Harrison before kneeling down so that they were eye level. Why was everyone doing that? Did he look smaller or weaker than most 11 year olds?
"Do you know who I am?" asked the man, "And do not insult me by saying no. I know Corban told you."
Harrison studied him, debating whether or not he should answer truthfully.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle," he finally replied, "The last of the Slytherin line. You are known as Marvolo among friend. I hope you don't expect me to fall over myself to bow and show respect. Respect is earned not freely given."
Corban groaned, "Harrison, why?"
"He's correct," interjected Marvolo with a chuckle, "You have no reason to fear or respect me. For now. Perhaps when we get to know one another you will actually respect me."
Harrison shrugged but his mind was already wandering back to the voices. Something was off about them. Necromancy was not the only type of death magic. There was also a type that manipulated souls and a few others. But these voices weren't a type he was familiar with.
"Child?" called Marvolo not touching him but his hand was hovering over his arm.
"Sorry," mumbled Harrison, "Got distracted. What were you saying, sir?"
"You will call me Marvolo," the Dark Lord told him.
Call him Marvolo huh? He could do that.
...
Marvolo led his guest to the dining room. It had been a few days since his and Corban's talk. The younger wizard's description had not done the boy justice.
The boy's magic was wild and untamed. Like a beast ready to lash out and attack. It was dark in ways that even his magic wasn't.
"Corban told me you prefer the name Marvolo," Harrison commented breaking the silence.
"I do," agreed Marvolo, "Would you mind telling me your preferences? It would help in the future."
Harrison glanced at him and then back at the path ahead. They walked together. Well the youth limped and Marvolo matched his pace not pushing him to go faster. Corban was a handful of paces behind him. He was giving them privacy but staying close in case something happened again.
"I prefer Harrison," he admitted.
Marvolo eyed his little soulmate. The boy was different from the other children he'd met. Not just because of his power. He was not intimidated or afraid of him. That could be because Corban had mentioned his name beforehand. But Harrison was not the least bit fearful. The only fear Marvolo had seen was towards his own magic.
"Is there anything I should avoid, Harrison?" Marvolo inquired, "Anything I should or should not do? I want you to be comfortable."
"I can't stand loud noises," Harrison revealed looking up at him, "If you want to touch me warn me first."
"May I put a hand on your shoulder?" The elder asked, "As we walk."
There was a moment's hesitation and the boy nodded. Carefully, the Dark Lord placed his hand on his young soulmate's shoulder. It was warm and the magic beneath was pulsing.
They made it to the dining room without any incident. Slippery brought in drinks for them and plates appeared before their seats. Harrison sat across from him and Corban sat to his ward's left.
"Tell me about yourself," invited Marvolo, "Where did you live and where were you raised?"
There was a flicker of uncertainty in Harrison's eyes. Had he asked something wrong? It was a very basic question.
"I grew up in a small town in the mountains," said Harrison in an emotionless voice, "I was trained by various people and tutors. I didn't meet many others my age or younger. The only constant was my guardian and the house elf. He taught me everything I know."
It was like his little soulmate was talking about a book. A story that he had read a thousand times and not a memory. Was the boy really a closed off or did the abuse break something inside him?
Marvolo shared a look with Corban. The blond's jaw tightened. He was thinking the same thing.
"Did you go to school?" asked Marvolo.
"For a time," answered the youth, "He homeschooled me mostly. Though, sometimes the neighbors would bring their kids around."
"Did you have a favorite class or subject?" queried the elder.
"Ancient Runes," said the boy, "I enjoyed figuring out their meanings and their purposes. I'm skilled in sequencing."
That brought out a little warmth. Not much though. It was clear to Marvolo the child had not lived a happy childhood.
"Why did you seek an inheritance test?" Marvolo inquired, "Were you looking for your family?"
"My guardian died," he answered with a shrug.
Marovlo decided to let that slide for the moment. While the boy may be good at hiding things his eyes told a different story. They spoke of pain. He wondered whether it was his guardian or his parents that damaged his knee.
"Do you have a favorite color?" Asked Marvolo.
"Dark green," his little soulmate answered, "What's yours, Marvolo?"
"Blue," responded Marvolo, "Do you have any hobbies?"
"Flying," answered Harrison his eyes clearing, "I love to fly. It's the best feeling ever."
That was more like a normal 10 year old. Excited and enthusiastic.
"Do you have a broom?" Asked Corban.
"Yea," murmured Harrison, "But I had to leave it behind. My guardian didn't like the thought of flying."
Marovlo would get his little soulmate a broom then. The food arrived then and they fell into comfortable silence.