Betrayal of the Best Kind
Obey
By Draco664
Obey
Harry woke slowly. Bright sunlight streamed in through the exquisitely detailed windows, splintering the light, and sending colours dancing around the room. Harry groped for his glasses, and put them on. Delicious smells focused his mind.
Sitting on a table that had not been there last night, was breakfast. It had to be breakfast, but Harry had never seen such a delicious array of food, even during the Hogwarts' feasts. Slipping the silk robe on again, Harry exited the comfortable bed, made his way over to the table and sat down to fill himself up. He just finished his meal when there was a knock at the main door.
Harry stood and opened the door. There in the doorway was someone Harry had only seen once in his life. Tall, blond, slim and haughtily beautiful, Narcissa Malfoy still had that 'something just below my nose stinks' expression.
"Good morning, Harry," she said to the surprised boy. "Are you ready to begin your lessons?"
Harry swallowed, and nodded. Opening the door wide, he politely gestured for Draco's mother to enter. "Would you care for something to eat?" he enquired.
Narcissa looked at him blankly. A slight smile graced her aristocratic features. "No, thank you, Harry. I will set up for your lesson, please get dressed."
Harry nodded and closed the door. As Narcissa walked over to the end of the desk made for brewing potions, Harry selected some work robes from his wardrobe. He went into the bathroom, splashed some water on his face and then dressed.
Narcissa had set up two cauldrons and had selected some of the ingredients from the shelves above the desk by the time Harry returned. He sat next to her at the desk, and looked at her expectantly.
"Before we begin, Harry, I notice that you have already begun studying the books in your library. What interested you in that book?" she asked, pointing to the book Harry had been reading the evening before, still sitting on armrest of the chair he had used.
Harry smiled. "In my third year, I was given a piece of parchment that some former students had instilled with some information about Hogwarts, along with their personalities. That tome discusses how to instill various properties into paper and parchment."
Manicured nails tapped on the desk thoughtfully. "What information did this parchment contain?" she asked.
Harry gave an evil smirk. "It was a map. Every secret tunnel, every password, every room. When combined with my father's invisibility cloak, my friends and I managed to do quite a lot of rule-breaking."
Narcissa's perfectly plucked eyebrows rose in surprise. "That map would be invaluable to our master's cause. Do you happen to know where it is?"
Harry shook his head sadly. "All my belongings were confiscated. My wand is the only thing I have left. I'm sure Dumbledore would know."
Draco's mother nodded. "Very well, let's begin. I know Severus is your potions master. He was a brilliant student in his time. However, his teaching methods leave a lot to be desired." She frowned. "My son regularly gets top marks in potions, yet his skills are barely adequate. From what I understand, students in Gryffindor house are harshly marked. Neither of you receive an accurate rating of your skill." She sneered. "Severus lets his personal feelings for events in the past to affect his actions now."
Harry snorted. "Snape hated my father, and simply loathed my godfather. Dumbledore told me that my father once saved Snape's life, and that that really rankled him."
Narcissa nodded, and waited for Harry to continue.
"Because of that, he has made my life a living hell, at least during potions lessons."
Narcissa smiled. She opened a tome she selected earlier, and opened it to a marked page. "I am here to instruct you and to grade your true skill with potions. I would like you to study this one, and brew two cauldrons of it. One will be used today, the other as necessary."
Harry nodded and looked down at the open book. The recipe marked was a powerful healing potion. Simple enough to brew for someone of even his skill. What sprang out at him were the administration details.
"It says that this potion only works for the brewer, and that is how it is so powerful. It is directed specifically at the brewer's body." He looked up at his new instructor. "Yet you said one cauldron would be used today. What do I have to look forward to?"
She smiled, pleased at the boy's attention to detail. "Your tuition here will not only cover magical schooling. This afternoon, you will be instructed in the art of fencing. Believe me, you will want a full cauldron of this healing potion at that time."
Harry looked excited at the prospect of learning to fight with a sword. He reached for one of the gold-handled knives in a drawer, and proceeded to cut off some hair, an eyelash, trim a fingernail and nick his finger to get three drops of blood. Reagents necessary in the healing potion aimed specifically at one person.
After a quick lunch, Narcissa and Harry left his room, and for the first time, Harry got a look at the rest of the building that had become his new home. Artwork of the highest quality lined the corridors. Suits of brightly polished armour stood at regular intervals. Crystal chandeliers emitted light that was reflected and refracted by the crystal prisms.
Harry could only stare in awe at the flagrant display of wealth and privilege. Careful not spill the precious potion, the pair entered a large hall, with a vast array of weapons displayed on the walls.
A large man turned to face the pair upon their entry. Harry didn't recognise the man, though he looked vaguely like Macnair, the Death Eater who had been sent to execute Buckbeak. "Quickly, boy!" he said. "Get over here, we have a lot to do."
With a nod and a farewell smile, Narcissa left Harry with his new teacher. Harry turned, and with an apparent bravery he did not feel, made his way over to begin his instruction in the art of sword fighting.
Narcissa Malfoy made her way through the richly furnished palace to her husband's suite. Both he and the master were there, waiting for her return.
Lucius turned to her. "Well?"
"At first glance, his potions skill is average for someone of his age. That in itself is remarkable for someone who has spent the better part of a year without practice. It would appear that our old friend Severus has been systematically destroying his desire and will to learn that particular subject. Once he realised that I would answer all questions without berating him however, he performed admirably, even eagerly. All he needed was a supportive learning environment. His attention to detail is remarkable."
"Evaluation?"
"If he had been given the correct encouragement, he could have rivaled his mother and I in skill. With a few months of my tutelage, he will be on par with the top of his year level. A few months more, and he will rival the top seventh years."
A look of surprise crossed her husband's features. "Are you sure? Draco has nothing but scorn for Potter's abilities."
"Draco's head is filled with undeserved praise by Severus. Without the advanced tomes at Malfoy Manor, I doubt he'd have passed potions these last few years."
Lucius looked upset at this. Voldemort, still silent, looked thoughtful.
Narcissa continued. "Your son has a burning ambition, but little will, and no spine."
Lucious gave her a threatening look. "He is your son too."
"Enough," their master said.
Immediately they fell silent, waiting for their master to continue.
"Narcissa, continue the boy's education. Focus on poisons, and mind control formulae. But give him time to pursue his own interests. That in itself will be interesting, to see what he feels he should know. Keep us informed as to his progress."
"Yes, my Lord." curtseyed Narcissa. She backed out of the room, and closed the door.
Cho had been forced back into the care of Madam Pomfrey after the discussion with the headmaster the previous evening. The nurse had been almost apoplectic at not having been informed immediately by Dumbledore of Cho's safe return. Though Cho physically felt fine, it was easier to allow herself to be led back to the hospital wing than argue with the tyrannical woman.
Ron and Hermione had left the headmaster's office to return to Gryffindor Tower. Hermione insisted that the pair had study to do. She had waved off Dumbledore's offer to have any upcoming tests postponed, much to Ron's annoyance.
Sirius and Dumbledore had spoken long into the evening. It was in the early hours of the morning that Sirius had made his way back to the Shrieking Shack. Lying down, Sirius tried to sleep. Visions of tortures and torments swam through his head, bringing to mind the fears he had for his godson.
Hadn't they discussed this? Harry had not been sure at the time, which was worse between joining Voldemort or being killed. Obviously, Harry's mind had been changed by the events at the lighthouse, and later at Privet Drive.
Shafts of light were lighting up the dust air by the time Sirius managed to fall into a restless slumber.
Harry collapsed for the tenth time, blood running from a gash on his left shoulder. His instructor gave him a spoonful of Harry's potion, and the cut closed.
Harry stood on wobbly legs. He was glad he'd only had a light lunch. Had he eaten the amount he had for breakfast, the house elves would definitely be cleaning it off the floor. Sweat ran from all over him, into his eyes, darkening his clothes, dripping onto the floor.
For the past two hours, Harry had been embarrassed over and over again at how easy it had been for his instructor to both disarm and injure him. Even though Harry had held a sword in a fight only once before in his life, he still felt self-conscious at how poorly he had performed.
His instructor (Harry didn't even know the man's name) had initially told Harry to select a sword for him to practice with. He had laughed at Harry's first choice, a Japanese daikatana, and told him with no room for argument to select a weapon he was unlikely to kill himself with.
Not that that seemed to bother him, Harry thought. He had eventually selected a sabre, a light, slightly curved fencing blade with an edge. After two hours of drills and finally sparing, Harry's right arm felt as though it had lead bones. Harry had been seriously wounded several times while practicing, and only the presence of the healing potion had saved Harry from serious danger.
As Harry tried to focus, and stand solidly on trembling legs, his instructor finally called a halt. They both stripped off their training shirts. The instructor's was still white and unspoiled. Harry's was cut and stained red in several places. Enough so that anyone looking at it for the first time could be forgiven for thinking that the shirt itself was red, and that it had white stains in places.
"You have performed admirably, Harry," his instructor said in his deceptively soft voice. "But while that potion heals you of the wounds you sustain, it does not restore the blood you have lost. Go rest now, you will be summoned later."
Harry nodded wearily. He cleaned his blade, wiping his own blood off from where it had spattered the sword. Thanking his instructor, he made his way back to his room.
A few minutes later it became obvious that he was lost. Room after room, hall after hall, Harry tried retracing his steps, only to become even more confused. In one corridor, he found windows allowing him a view out of the building, rather than to the inner courtyard, as had all the windows he had seen so far. He looked out, and with a shout of surprise, he recognized where he was. He could see an enormous park, where there were people walking pets, jogging and eating picnics. The skyline held familiar buildings. Harry was in London.
He looked from side to side, taking in the entire vista. Harry was stunned that the most evil wizard of modern times had set up a permanent residence in the middle of England's largest city, and undetected!
A squeak of surprise startled Harry, and he spun to see small House elf, dressed as usual in a dirty pillow case, holding a rag. "You is not meant to be here!" the elf squeaked in surprise, in a high pitched voice.
Harry smiled, which only increased the elf's nervousness. "I know. I'm lost. Could you lead me back to my room?"
The elf nodded quickly, and sped off in the direction from where Harry had just come. Harry followed, but had trouble keeping up with the speedy thing. Finally, after what felt like a hundred turns, Harry arrived back in his room. He thanked the helpful elf, which made her run in fright, then went into the bathroom, shaking his head at the treatment the elves must suffer to react like that.
After a long, hot shower, entered his room, and went to lie down. He noticed on the potion desk ten small flasks. Moving to take a closer look, Harry found the little flasks were filled with the other cauldron of healing potion he made that morning. Smiling at the fact he now had several doses of healing in convenient packaging, Harry climbed into bed for a rest. After just two lessons today, he was exhausted.
The last thought to go through Harry's mind before sleep claimed him was, I'm in London.
Harry awoke a few hours later, a gentle hand lightly shaking his shoulder. Harry opened his eyes, and could make out the blurry shape of the elf who had led him back to his room.
"Mister is needing to be getting up. The master is sending for you." she said in her high pitched voice.
"Thank you."
Harry sat up and stretched. He reached for his glasses on his bedside table. Once the world was in focus again, he could get up and dressed. He slipped a couple of the healing flasks into a pocket, and picked up his wand. Once Harry was ready for his next lesson, the trembling elf lead him from the room.
This time, Harry was required to climb three flights of stairs. His legs had not yet fully recovered from today's exercise, by the time he reached the required floor, he was feeling decidedly unsteady.
The elf took him to a room, obviously designed for tutoring. Several blackboards adorned the front of the room. No more than six desks were arranged in the room, each designed for only one student. The lecture podium and instructor's table were plain, but sturdy and of good quality. Cages lined the walls, holding a variety of magical creatures, bound in stasis.
Without a word, the elf bolted from the room. Harry started wandering around the edges of the room, examining the creatures stored in the magical cages. He recognised several from his DADA class with professor Lupin. There were imps, pixies, even minor demons, all caught in cages that froze them in time.
"Do you always enter a room before the teacher, Potter?"
Harry turned to the source of the clearly enunciated voice to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway. "My apologies, the elf that showed me the way here, lead me into the room."
The elder Malfoy waved the explanation away. "See that it doesn't happen again."
Harry gave a slight bow. "As you wish, sir."
Lucius sneered at him. "I am here to instruct you in the use of the Dark Arts. I know that at Hogwarts you are expected to take a course called Defense against the Dark Arts. Well, I will teach you both how to use it and defend against it. This will involve dueling to some degree."
Harry gave a smile of anticipation. "Excellent!" he exclaimed.
Lucius Malfoy gave a slight smile at Harry's enthusiasm. "Let us begin." he said, before sending a stunning spell at Harry.
Harry was glad that he had taken two vials of the healing potion with him to that lesson. Lucius Malfoy had been just as malicious as Snape, but without the strict laws and school rules on conduct to restrain him. Harry had managed to jump aside in time to dodge the first spell, but many of the subsequent curses and hexes managed to connect.
His only consolation was also the source of his greatest anxiety. He had managed, toward the end of the lesson, to hit Lucius with a combination of the laughing hex, and the tickling charm. That combination had managed to get past Malfoy's iron determination to withstand Harry's attacks. Harry had managed to stun the Death Eater.
Harry had no illusions that his victory over the experienced wizard was anything other than luck. Lucius had been holding back, not using full power in his spells. Also, he had stood in the same place in the room, allowing Harry the benefit of cover and changing angles.
After Harry's final stunning spell managed to penetrate Lucius' defenses, Voldemort applauded. He had come in unnoticed by Harry, who had been busy at the time, performing counter curses to remove the effects of the spells that had hit him during his duel.
Voldemort had then summoned an elf, and instructed her to take Harry back to his room, and gave Harry the night off from lessons to eat, and study what he wished.
Harry had been led away before Voldemort had cast the ennervation charm on his servant. Therein lay Harry's nervousness. He wasn't sure how Draco's father would react in their next lesson.
Once Harry entered his room, he asked for some food to be prepared. Again, he sat down to gorge himself.
As he did the previous night, Harry studied the tome that detailed the charms and requirements for enchanting parchments.
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