Bab 36: A Fateful Decision
You'd think she hasn't seen him for years, instead of the few months it's actually been.
Lucius, meanwhile, strode over to Harry and shook his hand.
"Had a good year, Harry?"
"So-so. Hoping next one will be better, to be honest."
Lucius merely shook his head, clucking his tongue.
"Are the fool's fan club really still bothering you?"
"Kinda. It's not just that. I'm just happy this year's over."
"Well, this should be a good, restful break."
Narcissa finally extracted herself from her son and came over to Harry.
"Harry. I'm so glad you will be spending the summer with us once again."
"Thanks, ma'am. Me too."
She looked at him with an unreadable expression and only moved her eyes a few seconds later.
"So, Lucius. I shall take Draco home now. You had something to take care of with Harry?"
"Correct. Harry, we need to go past your Muggle guardians."
"Ok. Apparition, right?"
"Of course. Do I look like a Muggle to you?"
"No, no, I just meant—"
Harry's sentence was cut off by the tell-tale crack of Apparition. Narcissa had gone, Draco with her.
"Harry, do you mind if we go past Diagon Alley after? Just a few things I must take care of at Gringotts."
"Whatever's easier for you, sir. I don't want to be an imposition or anything."
"Wonderful. Grab hold, please."
And they were gone.
By the time they got back to Malfoy Manor, Harry was frankly exhausted. It had been really cool, the way Lucius had just given the Matron the Hogsmeade form to sign after tapping it with his wand. And she signed it! She looked like she couldn't focus on it properly, either. That was something Harry definitely wanted to learn. He didn't plan on spending much time in Muggle society, but still... It could definitely come in handy.
He had sniggered to himself, thinking of giving Binns a note saying nothing at all and the stupid ghost thinking it was a ten-inch essay.
Nevertheless, Harry had been traveling for hours, hadn't slept much the night before (after all, it had been the last night of the school year, and Slytherin had won the house cup), and then had to sit quietly while Lucius had a private meeting with a goblin manager. After that, Lucius had to speak to Mr. Borgin. While looking around Borgin and Burke's was always exciting and it served to wake Harry up a bit, he was still dragging his feet like leaden weights by the time he and Lucius were standing outside Malfoy Manor's beautiful gates.
Lucius seemed to hesitate before the gates.
"Harry," he said, turning to face the boy, "There's—there's someone here who wants to meet with you."
Trying valiantly to hide a yawn, Harry asked, "Who?"
"That's a—a surprise. He wanted to meet with Draco and yourself. Individually."
Lucius' obvious nervousness started to rub off on Harry, and he asked, "Sir? Am I in trouble?"
A shaky smile answered him. "No, not at all."
Somehow, Harry got the feeling that Lucius was lying to him.
"Just—if Draco's finished, go straight through to the study. He'll be waiting for you."
An icy pit began to settle in Harry's stomach as he walked up the path to the Manor.
Who could it be? Lucius wouldn't put me in danger, would he?
And a sly voice screamed at him, Never trust!
When they walked through the main entrance, the Malfoy's elf was waiting.
"Mistress said Tufty should tell Master that Master Draco is finished. Master Harry can go through when he arrives."
Lucius nodded at the elf, and she disappeared.
"Go on, Harry. We shall speak afterward."
Harry walked into the study, trepidation making his legs heavier. His fatigue had all but vanished. Something weird is definitely going on.
"Hello?" he said, feeling foolish. There was definitely someone there, sitting in Lucius's throne-like chair, facing away from him. He couldn't make out more than a shape though, and the candles didn't help nearly enough.
"Harry Potter. We meet again."
Something about that voice made Harry's hair stand on end. His instincts were screaming at him to run, but he didn't think he could face Lucius or even Draco if he ran out of this room now.
"Uh. I don't mean to be rude—"
"But you wish to know who I am, and when we have met?"
There was cold amusement in the voice. It carried on.
"I thought I had made more of an impression. After all, I believe I was your favorite teacher in your first year."
Without even thinking, Harry blurted out—"Professor Quirrell?"
This time, the amusement wasn't hidden. The voice laughed, in a high pitch that turned Harry's stomach to a roiling pit of snakes.
"Almost. I was controlling Quirrell for most of your conversations with him, so that is not such an inaccurate moniker."
What. The. Fuck?
"This may come as a surprise to you, Harry. But I was possessing Quirrell. You barely knew the true Quirrell."
"Wh-Who are you?" he asked, voice dry.
"I? I am Lord Voldemort. You may refer to me as My Lord."
Harry almost laughed. Would have, if not for Lucius's blatant fear. It made sense. Horrible, terrifying sense.
"What—" he tried again, "What do you want?"
"I do not wish to harm you if that is your fear. I merely wish to speak with you. Come. Sit."
It wasn't a request. Harry sank into the freshly conjured armchair (not as large, or as elaborate as the one Voldemort was sitting on).
For once in his life, his mind was totally blank. He tried to think, but his brain seemed to short-circuit whenever he got to the fact that he was sitting opposite the fucking Dark Lord.
He felt the man's eyes piercing him.
Say something!
"I—"
"I merely wish to speak," Voldemort repeated. "Breathe in."
Harry did. The order had been given in a tone that demanded to be obeyed.
He slowly let out a breath, as Voldemort began to talk.
"I wish to give you an offer. Harry Potter, I offer you to join me."
"Why?"
Harry didn't realize he had spoken aloud until he heard the echo of his word. He closed his eyes, waiting for the explosion, but Voldemort merely chuckled.
"Come now, Harry. I remember you being far more descriptive than that. Ask your question again."
"Why me? You tried to kill me, and now you want me to join you? You killed my parents." By the end, Harry's voice had sunk till it was almost unrecognizable as English.
"Why indeed."
"I feel a kinship to you. We are both Half-Bloods. We are both Parselmouths. We were both sorted into the noble house of my ancestor. We were both orphaned at a young age. We were both raised in a Muggle orphanage."
Harry took in a breath sharply at that. The Dark Lord is a Half-Blood? Was raised in an orphanage?
Voldemort noticed Harry's shock. "Oh yes. I understand. Perhaps better than any other wizard could. I understand what it is like to be hated as a child. To be feared for something beyond your control. Something you cannot even understand. I know what it is to lie in bed, alone, and wish you just were like the others. To wish you were normal. And to finally find yourself a place in your world. And to know that this all could have been prevented."
Harry just stared.
"And so, Harry. I understand you. And as Quirrell, I saw something in you. Potential for true greatness. I offer you the chance to take your greatness. The greatness that is your birthright."
"You killed my parents," Harry whispered, voice shaking.
"So I did. I regret it, as I regret every drop of magical blood I spilled and will spill."
"It's your fault I ended up in that place."
Voldemort just looked at him.
"Is it? I killed your parents, as I killed those who fought against me in battle. It is unfortunate that collateral damage occurred, and it was never my goal. But in war, such things are unavoidable. I killed them and would have killed you. I did not choose to send you to live amongst Muggles."
"It still is because of you."
"In part. Did you know, Harry, that I attempted to have a law passed that would ensure that no magical child would be left to Muggles? That Dumbledore fought against this law?"
"I've heard of the law."
"Did I drop you off at the home of a magic-hating family of Muggles? Or was that Dumbledore?"
Harry could barely say the whole sentence. "Dumbledore."
"Is it fair, Harry, to blame me in full, when I was only part of the cause?"
"Life isn't fair," he muttered. He lifted his eyes to meet Voldemort's glowing red pinpoints. "How can I join you, when you killed my parents?"
Voldemort was silent for a few moments.
"Tell me, Harry. What is it you wish for, most of all?"
Harry didn't say anything.
"Come now, Harry. When I was Quirrell, we discussed this. You were far more verbose then. Do you remember your answer?"
Harry closed his eyes. He could picture the scene in question. He was sitting opposite Quirrell's desk. They had been talking about the difference in wand movements between the Leg-Locker and the Full Body-Bind. Quirrell had suddenly asked the question, and Harry had answered—
"Power," he said softly, opening his eyes.
"Exactly. Tell me, Harry. Where are you more likely to amass all the power you could, with me, or with Dumbledore? You know I would never forbid magic. If you are capable of casting it, then the choice is yours. You know Dumbledore does not think like that."
He's right.
"I would train you myself," Voldemort said, moving his head closer to Harry. "You would be my protégé. You have the skills and the mind. Think of it. All of the magic, open to you. I can tell you about magical arts so ancient, they have been forgotten centuries ago. I can give you the power you could find nowhere else."
"But you—"
"Yes. I did. Are you going to live your life, based on your feelings for people you never knew? Is that how you wish to live? Always wondering, how would my parents react? Never knowing if your decision is true? Or will you live for yourself?"
Harry couldn't answer.
"Don't you want revenge?" came Voldemort's whisper. "I burnt down the orphanage I grew up in. It was extremely cathartic. Don't you want to see them pay? Pay for what they dared to do to you? Don't you want to see the whole system pay? The foolish witches and wizards who squander their gifts and worry more about appeasing the talentless rather than enriching their own lives? Those who worry about the morality of magic, instead of simply using it?"
"With me, you can achieve revenge. You can avenge yourself against those Muggles who made your childhood a nightmare, and those who stood by and allowed it to happen."
Harry tried to say something. The words caught in his throat.
"By my side, Harry, you will always be accepted. You will never have to fit a mold to be one of us. Simply swear to me, and you will be part of a brotherhood that nothing can tear apart."
Harry still couldn't say anything.
"No longer will you have to be alone. You will be a part of something, much greater than yourself. But you will not be a cog in the machine, forgotten. You will be important, befriended."
"I have friends," Harry managed.
"And if you reject my offer, how much longer will you retain those friendships for?"
Oh shit. Draco.
"Your friend Draco has already agreed to join my service. His parents are a part of it, as is Thaddeus Nott. Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson. All these names are names of my servants. Chiara Zabini has long been one of my best political and financial supporters, as have Ian and Lauren Greengrass. Your Head of House, Severus Snape, is bound to me by far more than words. Tell me, Harry. Can you really cast them all aside?"
Harry felt like his heart was shattering into a thousand pieces. And still, the Dark Lord went on.
"It will only be a matter of years until all your friends have sworn to me. What then? From what I recall as Quirrell, you did not get along very well with Dumbledore's crowd. Weasley, Longbottom. Would they welcome you with open arms? There is no neutrality in this coming war. Definitely not for you. Your choice is with me, or with Dumbledore. Or crushed in between, attacked and hated from both sides. Alone."
Harry just wished the man would stop. He wanted to run. He didn't want this to be happening. He wanted to wake up.
"On the one side, you have Albus Dumbledore. Champion of Muggles, lover of Gryffindors. The man who admits to neglecting you amongst a horde of Muggles as they visited horrors upon you. The man who would bar you from studying all that you wish, because it goes against his preconceived ideas of morality. On the other side, you have me, and all I have to offer. Harry Potter. Choose."
Harry looked at the man before him. Something screamed inside his head as he came to his decision. Red eyes boring into his very soul, Harry Potter chose.
"I'll join you," he whispered, unshed tears filling his eyes.
The Dark Lord smiled.
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