Chapter Eight: Three Fishy Fish Thrown Into the Fire
Dumbledore sat at the High Table, his eyes falling onto the Blake boy. It had been several weeks since the term had started. The boy turned to him and their eyes locked. When Harish broke the contact, Dumbledore sat straight up.
How could he not have noticed? It was so obvious. He walked to his office, not really paying attention and completely ignored Professor McGonagall when she asked him if he was alright. When he got to his office, he summoned a picture of Lily Potter. After examining her eyes, Harish's whole history seemed to fall into place.
Harish's eyes were shaped exactly like Lily's. Yes, the colour was lighter, but there was no doubt about it; he was her son. Everything made sense now. She must not have been quite as faithful as everyone had thought. Anata Blake had been a new arrival to Britain around the time of Harish's conception, and she would have been pregnant with Harry soon after.
James Potter had obviously wanted the boy to be their heir in case something happened to them and Harry couldn't take over the vault. Then, Anata must have fallen off the grid to save his son the shame of people knowing about his and Lily's indiscretion. It had worked though; no one (except for him, of course) suspected a thing.
He let his mind wander, since he had figured out the mystery of the boy. The old Death Eaters had been acting very lively this year. Dumbledore hoped that it didn't mean anything, but he should start preparing his plans just in case. Maybe, once the Death Eaters began to show activity again, he would start gathering the members of the Order. He knew that Voldemort wasn't dead. The man hadn't had enough human left in him to die. It was only a matter of time before he returned and resumed his work, and the Death Eaters were acting very suspicious.
The only problem was that Harry Potter was dead. Dumbledore had originally been planning to use that boy as their saviour, but the child had died, and Lily's love had failed him. He was sure that her sacrifice would've saved the boy. Nonetheless, he needed to find a new saviour and fast. The only other boy who could have been referred to in the prophecy was Neville Longbottom. He decided that he would have to start training the boy to get ready to the upcoming war that he was sure that was to come.
POOR-NEVILLE—HE-BEING-USED—HAWISH-WILL-SAVE-THE-DAY!
(eventually)
Harish was walking into the Slytherin common room calmly and slowed to a stop. His eyes swept the room and he immediately noticed that no one under third year was in the common room. There was a large cluster of sixth and seventh year boys blocking his path. All of them, he could tell, were children of Death Eaters.
The one that he recognized as Thorfinn Rowle's son stepped forward. He was tall and bulky, and (if Harish remembered correctly) he was a beater for their Quidditch team. "You have shamed Slytherin house by your sorting, Blake" Rowle said, snarling Harish's name and pinning him to the wall. "It will no longer be tolerated. A mudblood in Slytherin!" the older boy spat.
Harish narrowed his eyes. How dare they assume that he was a mudblood! He was the heir of Slytherin! Already having had enough, Harish pulled out his wand and shouted, "Repellere!"
A purple jet of light shot out of his wand and forced Rowle back so hard, that he skidded backwards across the room. Two of his cronies started shouting random hexes at him, but he used a well-cast protego and all of the hexes bounced around the room.
"Expulis Aruspice!" Rowle shouted as he regained his footing.
Harish's eyes widened as he ducked and the orange beam of light passed over his head. That spell would have caused his organs to come out and was certainly fateful.
"Lumos solem!" Harish said, blinding Rowle.
"Serpensortia!" he heard a voice shout out. Harish actually laughed. A mamba couldn't kill him!
"Go, my friend," he told the snake, "Avenge the princce of snakesss…"
Several people stopped casting spells when they saw the large snake turn around and head for the person who had cast the Serpensortia.
"E-e-expulso," the seventh year stuttered, exploding the snake.
One last person stepped forward and sent a hole blasting hex and a tickling charm at Harish. He evaded the hex, but got hit with the tickling charm. He let out infuriated giggles as invisible hands began to tickle him. He roared in anger at the humiliation when the charm wore off. As he began casting a spell he was angry, angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. His eyes flashed a bright emerald green for a second causing everyone to shudder, thinking of the Killing Curse.
"CRUCIO!"
Everyone stopped and stared in horror as the tough seventh year boy's screams echoed across the room. A few young, pale faces peeking out of the dormitories to investigate the noise. Satisfied that he had gotten everyone's attention, Harish released the older boy from the curse. He fell to his knees at Harish's feet, tears rolling down his face.
"I am Harish Blake, Heir of Slytherin and son of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Those who wish to challenge me, do so at your own risk."
DIIIIIEEEE!—OH-WHOOPS
The twins, who were hiding in the corner closest to their dormitory, (they were planning on pranking Marcus) glanced at each other before they ran to their dormitory.
"He's Voldemort's son?!" they both exclaimed to each other as they plopped down on their beds.
"Voldemort was in our house!" Fred shouted.
"He shook my hand!" George said, starting to hyperventilate.
"He didn't seem that bad a guy." Fred said, remembering their friend's father at his brief visit.
"Yeah, he should be halfway decent if he raised a nice bloke like Harish."
"Maybe he's changed over the past ten years. I mean, he was stuck in a house with a little boy! That must have tamed him a little."
"Well, I don't care what mum says! I'm still gonna back Harish no matter what."
"Me too."
"This does—" George cut off as they heard a boy walking down the steps.
The boy turned out to be Harish.
"So," Fred started to say as Harish walked over to them and slammed moodily into his bed.
"Son of Lord Voldemort huh?" George finished. Both of them were wearing identical smirks.
Harish nodded, staring at the ceiling. He didn't want them to be mad with him. They were the only friends he had. He didn't want to see their faces.
"Where did you—"
"Learn the Cruciatus Curse?" the asked in chorus, eager expressions on their faces.
Harish sat up and looked at them. He was startled to see that they didn't sound mad at all; they just sounded excited.
"My Aunt Bella," he said as a wave of relief washed over him.
"I sure hope no one—"
"Heard those screams."
"You'd be expelled—"
"For sure!"
Harish smiled. "No, the whole Slytherin common room is warded to keep the sound in. You can only hear something if you are inside either the common room or the dormitories.
The twins nodded in relief. Then, the two red-heads giggled. They had just witnessed their friend use an Unforgivable, a curse that was banned, but they weren't shocked or scared at all. They didn't really feel any emotion. In their opinion, Harish deserved to use that curse because older wizards, who had six more years of experience than them, had used gruesome and even fatal spells. The seventh and sixth years were the ones who started the fight in the first place.
"Come on," Harish said suddenly. He hopped off of his bed and headed towards the Owlry.
"Where are we going?" the twins asked as they climbed up the many flights of stairs.
"To send a letter."
"You're ratting to—"
"Your dad, aren't you?"
"Yup," Harish said and the three of them smirked widely.
Once they got to the Owlry, Harish pulled out some parchment and a quill and stood writing a letter for a minute. Then, he coaxed an owl down and sent the letter off.
SOME-BRAT'S-GONNA-DIE-TODAY!
Voldemort was sitting in the large sitting room when a Hogwarts owl swooped in the window. The brown bird of prey swooped into the room and landed on his knee, sticking its leg out. He took the letter from it, wondering what this could be about.
It read: Dear Father,
I am so sorry but I might have just let slip where all of Slytherin could hear that I am your son. I was walking into the common room when several older boys (Jugson, Rowle, Selwyn, Travers, and Gibbon) confronted me, accusing me of being a mudblood. Rowle shot an Entrail Expelling curse at me. I fought them back, crucioed Gibbon, and then told them about my heritage. I hope it doesn't hinder any of your plans.
Love,
Harish
Voldemort sat back, feeling something he had never felt before. He pondered on what it was for a minute. Ah, pride. He was feeling proud of Harish and he had never had anyone to be proud of before. A smile graced his lips. The boy was following in his footsteps already. He had cast the Cruciatus on a senior student at school. Voldemort could also tell that Harish would be at the top of the Slytherin hierarchy after this stunt. His heir was already living up to his name!
Then, he reread the letter and the smile soon disappeared. His Death Eaters would need dealing with. He had told them months ago that Harish was the son of someone very important (not mentioning that the boy was his son) and commanded them and their children to treat the boy with respect. Apparently, his men did not relay the message to their children, or they needed a better hold on them.
He started concentrating on the surnames that Harish had listed for him. The Death Eater's marks would start burning soon enough. Then, he sat back in his chair and waited for the accursed men to appear.
When all of them had arrived, he stood up imperiously. The five grown men cowered before him as he began to circle them.
"So," Voldemort hissed, his voice as cold as ice, "You didn't find it important to do as your lord says. You didn't care about the outcome of what would happen did you?"
"W-what are you talking about?" Rowle asked.
"Your son almost killed Harish! He shot an Entrail Expelling Curse at my son, and I'm holding you responsible!" he shouted, his face inches away from Rowle's. "Crucio!"
Rowle's screams echoed about the room. The other Death Eaters looked down at their feet, not wanting to see their master's face. He had not mentioned that the boy was his…When did he get a son?
After a couple minutes, Voldemort seemed satisfied and let the Death Eater drop to his feet, sobbing pitifully and coughing as spasms ran through his body. He bent low and looked the man in the eye.
"Now, are you going to let it happen again? If it does happen again, I will personally make sure that your life is torture," he didn't even listen as the man babbled on about how it won't happen again.
Instead, his eyes fell to his next prey. The men were standing nervously. Some were fidgeting, and all of them wouldn't dare look up at him.
"I'm going to let you off easy because I think you got the right idea from watching Rowle suffer. But if anyone, your children or anyone else's, harms my child again the five of you will get the brunt of the pain." The Death Eaters nodded frantically and happily apparated away once he dismissed them.
Then, he went to his study and sat in his desk. He had sent a letter to Yaxley earlier that day to have the other man get a higher position in the ministry. He was glad that most everyone trusted the Death Eater. He was planning to have Yaxley run for Minister of Magic, and it wouldn't help him get that position if people didn't trust him.
Voldemort had originally offered Lucius to run for Minister, but the Senior Malfoy was comfortable where he was and didn't really fancy being the Minister.
Things were going well for his cause and maybe, in a year or two, he might start the war back up again. He was wanting Harish to be a little older and have slightly more magical knowledge before he started the war back up, so that the boy could participate and fight for his cause.
Once the boy was old enough to understand, he was planning on telling him why he had started the war in the first place, then he would tell the boy who he really was. He was sure that Harish would understand why he did what he did. The boy was very intelligent and absolutely adored him. Yes, he was very confident indeed.
The ends of his mouth turned up in an almost-smile. For the first time in his life, he actually looked forward to the summer. He was thinking about telling Harish about the Chamber of Secrets once he got home. He really had missed Harish and couldn't wait to have the boy back for the summer. He shook his head. Why did he have to be so affectionate? He growled in aggravation. At least he still had a hold on his Death Eaters.
Voldemort took out a quill and some parchment so that he could send a letter to Harish, saying how proud he was. At least, through all of this trouble with his emotions, the boy would be aiding him in taking over the ministry one day. Then, it wouldn't be so bad; he would have everything he wanted.