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SIYE Time:10:18 on 28th March 2024
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Harry Potter and the Butterfly Effect
By Brennus

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure
Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Rape, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 733
Summary: Minor events can have repercussions far beyond their size and importance. When one of these minor events occurs to a ten year-old Harry Potter he finds his world turned upside-down and it starts him down a very different path than the one he expected to follow.
Hitcount: Story Total: 199216; Chapter Total: 8090
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Author’s notes are celebrating the return to their traditional place at the end of the chapter.




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Chapter 11 — Genesis of a Nemesis


Sunday, 6 July 1996

The sweat felt strangely cleansing as it rolled down Harry’s back. His muscles ached by this point, but he didn’t care. He needed to exorcize the awful memories of the previous night and this felt like the best way. He rolled onto his back and began another series of sit-ups, enjoying the burning in his abdominal muscles as he did so.

He’d been in here nearly two hours now. As the first rays of light crept into his room, he had abandoned his attempts at sleep and come here. The previous night Sirius had pointed out this room as one of the ones they set aside for training. This particular area had appealed to Harry as it was practically empty. There was no furniture or ornaments anywhere to be seen, and the walls were largely undecorated. The floorboards were also bare, if in desperate need of a few layers of polish. A smell of mouldy plaster and slow decay hung in the air.

But for all it’s neglect, this was by far Harry’s favourite room in the house so far. The feeling of ancient evil and malice that permeated everywhere else was absent, and only a lingering sensation of sadness remained. In here he could attempt to shrug off the dark emotions that had washed over him with hard, honest exercise.

He’d restarted his routines from Japan easily, despite having missed a few days training. First came the stretching exercises and yoga. He’d then moved onto harder, muscle building activities: sit-ups, press-ups and such like. He then started his martial arts training, aiming kicks and punches at his imaginary opponents. Normally he would then have just completed some more stretches to cool down before finishing. Today, he was filled with a nervous energy born of frustration and felt the need to extend his work-out. He wished he knew if the room was warded so he could practice spells as well. He’d just rolled onto his front again to start another round of press-ups when the door opened and Sirius entered.

“Ah, here you are, Harry,” he said. “I was starting to worry. I thought you might have done a bunk in the night.”

“I almost did,” Harry replied, climbing to his feet. “This place doesn’t exactly have a friendly atmosphere conducive to a restful night’s sleep, does it?”

“I suppose not,” Sirius agreed. “Frankly, I’m used to it, but it does take visitors a while to get comfortable here. Some people are more affected than others. I’m guessing it got to you a bit, did it?”

“You could say that,” Harry said harshly. “This place stinks of dark magic. I can’t believe you are happy to stay here with it in this state.”

“As I said, I grew up here. I don’t like it one little bit, but I am used to it,” Sirius pointed out. “Besides, the way your two wonderful little Elves are going, this place will be cleaned out within the month. They’ve just about worked their way through the ground floor and have accumulated a pile of items reeking of dark magic. I’ve put them in a secure trunk so Professor Dumbledore can have a look at them. Kreacher kept trying to steal them back, but Bolly threatened to break his nose off; and that seems to have done the trick.”

Sirius let out one of his loud, barking laughs which Harry found vaguely amusing. Deciding that now he had company he could end his work-out, Harry started performing his cooling-down stretches.

Sirius looked on with amusement. “Bit of a fitness fanatic, are you?” he asked. “Can’t see the point in it myself. But then again, when you have the body of a god like I do, why try and improve on perfection?”

Harry just shook his head at his godfather, while stretching his left leg out before him.

“Actually, while we’re discussing bodies, I couldn’t help but notice that you were very interested in my cousin Tonks's body last night, judging by the way you were staring at it,” Sirius said carefully.

Harry instantly turned bright red. “Oh, um…no. It’s not like that, Sirius, I swear,” he stuttered.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, Harry,” Sirius continued, raising his hands defensively. “I’m not one of those over-protective types, and Tonks can look after herself. It’s just you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re hoping to get anywhere with her.”

“She’s crazy about Remus, right?” Harry asked.

“Yes, indeed,” Sirius confirmed, looking surprised. “Did she tell you?”

“No, but it was pretty obvious from the way she talked about him,” Harry explained. “But really, it’s nothing to worry about. You know I’ve been in Japan for the last year?”

“Err, yes,” Sirius said in a confused voice.

“Well, I was in a male-only training camp all that time. I didn’t even see a female in that time, apart from once when my friend and I went into the local village so we could get our tattoos.” Harry tapped the impressive tattoo of the Hungarian Horntail dragon on the upper left side of his chest. “Seeing Tonks in a tight t-shirt and jeans was just a bit much after all this time. I just need to adjust to being in the company of girls again.”

“Oh, my poor boy! I had no idea,” Sirius cried, grinning from ear to ear. “If only I’d known, I would have organised a more suitable welcome. A troop of go-go dancers, perhaps? A bevy of swimsuit clad witches to greet you? Maybe the odd stripper?”

“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I nearly had a total meltdown at the sight of one girl in a tight top. Merlin knows what would have happened if I’d been exposed to anything more than that!”

Sirius howled with laughter at Harry’s discomfort. Unfortunately, this only increased further when a second later Tonks entered the room.

“What’s so funny…whoa! That’s one cool tattoo, Harry! Where did you get it done?” she gasped.

Harry turned bright red, suddenly remembering he was clad only in his shorts. “Um, in Japan, actually,” he mumbled.

Sirius grinned at his discomfort. “You’ll have to excuse Harry,” he said to Tonks. “I’ve just learnt that he has been deprived of any female company whatsoever for the last year. It’s rather taken its toll on the poor lad.”

“You haven’t seen a girl in a year?” Tonks gasped in disbelief.

Harry nodded but avoided looking at her.

“Poor you! I pretty sure that the average bloke’s brain regresses to caveman levels without female conversation occasionally. Oh, I almost forgot the reason I came up here. Professor Dumbledore’s here and he wants to have a chat with you, Harry.”

“Oh, right. I’d better go and get changed then,” he said unenthusiastically. Tonks noted his change in attitude and frowned, but Sirius gave her a ‘I’ll explain later’ look.

As Harry started out the door, Tonks called to him. “That really is a fantastic tattoo, Harry. It really looks good on you, too,” she said.

“Um, thanks,” Harry replied, somewhat flustered, before hurrying out.

Tonks's eyes followed him all the way.

“Well, I had that little talk with him as you requested,” Sirius smiled.

“I gather. So, basically, he was goggling at me last night because he hadn’t seen a single girl for a year. I could have been a right minger and I would have got the same reaction?” Tonks asked.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” Sirius said, barely suppressing his mirth.

“Well, that’s a blow to my ego,” Tonks moaned.

“You seemed to be having a good look yourself just then. Regretting not giving him a bit of encouragement now?” Sirius asked.

Tonks thought about it for a second. “Nah, if he’d been a few years older it would be a different story. I’ll just admire that physique from a distance, thanks. Besides, I’m still hopeful that your idiot of a friend notices me one day.”

“Oh, Remus has noticed, my dear Tonks, let me assure you,” Sirius said, throwing a comforting arm over the girl's shoulder. “He’s just a bit hung up about the whole ‘I’m a werewolf’ thing.”

“I guess I’m going to have to knock that idea out of him, aren’t I?” she said with determination.

Sirius hugged her tighter and laughed. “That’s my girl!”

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

After a brief shower and a change of clothes, Harry headed down to the kitchen where Professor Dumbledore was waiting.

“Morning Professor,” Harry greeted the man as he entered the kitchen before heading over to the kettle to fix himself a cup of tea.

“Good morning, Harry. And how are you settling in here?” Dumbledore asked.

“Well, apart from the fact the house is barely fit for human habitation, there are dark artefacts everywhere which are frequently life threatening, and the resident House-Elf hates everyone with a passion, fine,” Harry said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Ah, but I see that you have engaged the help of your own Elves, and they seem to be making a fine start in clearing the place up. Why, I’ve just been given this large box of dark objects for investigation and disposal.” Dumbledore tapped a trunk which sat on the floor beside him.

Harry took one look at the trunk and suddenly his scar exploded in pain.

“Harry? HARRY! Are you alright, my boy?” Dumbledore asked as he hurried over and supported him.

“My head,” Harry complained. “I just looked at that trunk and my scar suddenly felt like it was on fire.”

Dumbledore helped Harry to a seat. “I must say, Harry, you do seem very sensitive to dark magic. When I think about it I shouldn’t be surprised, really,” the old man mused.

Harry took a minute to calm down and let the throbbing in his head die down. “So, what did you want to talk about today then, Professor?” he asked eventually.

Dumbledore looked stern. “As you know, I was somewhat shocked to learn that you know of the prophecy made about you and Voldemort. I fully admit I had not intended to tell you of this yet until I had a chance to get to know you better and establish how you would react to that knowledge.” Dumbledore paused to drink some of his tea while Harry bristled at the man’s calm confession.

“But now you know this information, I feel it is vital to provide you with other facts. Precisely, I need to explain to you why Voldemort did not die when you deflected the killing curse back on him when you were a baby.”

Harry stared at the old man in shock. Whatever he had been expecting this wasn’t it. He thought about it briefly. This was obviously another example of information that Dumbledore had been sitting on like a mother hen. Harry felt it was reckless to keep information of such importance to just the two of them. What happened if they were both killed?

“Don’t you think that Sirius and Remus should hear this as well?” Harry asked Dumbledore. To Harry’s surprise he did not dismiss the idea immediately.

“If you think it’s wise, Harry, we will include them in this discussion,” Dumbledore said. “Indeed, I find it gratifying that you have come to trust them in so short a space of time.”

Silently, Harry thought it wasn’t so much that he trusted Sirius and Remus as that he distrusted the Professor, but he said nothing. Instead, he rose and called for both men to come down to the kitchen. In a short while they joined Harry and Dumbledore around the table.

“As I was saying, Harry,” Dumbledore continued, “I believe I have discovered the reason Voldemort was not killed on the dreadful day in Godric’s Hollow.” With that the old wizard reached into his robes and withdrew a book. The thing looked in very poor condition and appeared to have a hole right through the middle.

Harry recognised the book with a start. “That’s Tom Riddle’s diary!” he exclaimed.

“Indeed, Harry. And if it was not for your destruction of this book, we would have no idea of Voldemort’s plans,” Dumbledore said. “But to explain to Sirius and Remus, this diary was used to possess a young girl at Hogwarts a few years ago. Harry was involved in her rescue and the annihilation of this book as a threat. Tom Riddle is Voldemort’s given name. He attended Hogwarts like any other boy his age and proved exceptionally gifted. He rose to be Head Boy and gathered quite a following among his school mates. Most of these followers went on to become the first batch of Death Eaters.”

“But why is this information not public knowledge?” Remus asked. “Voldemort appeared to have come from nowhere and nothing is known about him. It’s created a mystique which only adds to the fear of him. Wouldn’t it be better if everyone knew of his origins?”

“Sadly, I fear not,” Dumbledore said. “Riddle was an orphan, rescued from a Muggle institution for such children. If this information became public knowledge there would be an outcry and calls for such children to be excluded from our society. For the misdeeds of one, many would be punished. Besides, most of evidence linking Voldemort to Tom Riddle was destroyed by the man himself, so keen was he to hide the fact he is a half-blood. But there is evidence if people truly wanted to find out. Why in Hogwarts library there is a copy of an interview Tom Riddle gave shortly after leaving the school. On graduation he made a number of public statements regarding the blood status of children attending Hogwarts which created something of a stir. There was a minor feature in the Daily Prophet asking why the out-going Head Boy would say such things and Riddle provided some explanation. During the interview he asked to be referred to as Lord Voldemort, much to the reporter’s amusement. But I fear that unearthing such a story would cause much potential harm to many unfortunates who would be tarred with the same brush.”

Remus nodded, although he didn’t look totally convinced by the Professor's explanation.

“But to return to the diary, this appears to have been left by Riddle as an act of vanity. The diary is documentary proof that by him succeeding in opening the Chamber of Secrets he was, in fact, the heir of Salazar Slytherin,” Dumbledore continued. “Mr Riddle had a very high opinion of himself and had ambition unrivalled by any, even in his own house. He sought for himself nothing less than immortality.”

The three other men at the table gasped. Dumbledore dropped the diary onto the table.

“This diary is proof of his efforts. Have any of you gentlemen ever heard of a Horcrux?” he asked.

Remus was the only one to respond. “I’ve heard the name but nothing more than that,” he acknowledged. “All I know is that they involve the darkest of magics in their creation.”

“Indeed. This diary, which Harry so valiantly disposed of, contained an actual piece of Riddle’s soul,” Dumbledore explained.

“But, why?” Harry gasped.

“Very simply, while a piece of his soul remained protected within the Horcrux, Riddle, or Voldemort if you prefer, could not be killed. His body could be destroyed but he would cling to life until he could find a new body,” Dumbledore stated grimly. “You, of course, Harry, were unfortunately to witness a ritual to achieve just that.”

“So, Harry destroyed this Horcrux thing. That means Voldemort can be killed now, right?” Sirius asked.

“Sadly, I fear not,” Dumbledore replied. “It is my belief that Voldemort, in his desperate madness, has created more Horcruxes.”

“How many?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know. To create a Horcrux involves a ritual during which a murder must be committed. At that point, the caster’s soul becomes splintered and it is possible to detach a piece of it. I have evidence that Voldemort killed in similar circumstances, but I cannot say how many times this was done,” Dumbledore confirmed sadly.

“Can he use any object? I mean, could he have used a shoe or an old bottle or something? How would we ever find out?” Sirius asked despairingly.

“No, he would have had to use something which would keep the integrity of his soul,” Dumbledore stated. “Also, Voldemort is extremely arrogant. I suspect he would have only used objects of great importance or value to him, the diary being a good example.”

“So until all the Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort can’t be killed, is that right?” Harry asked.

Dumbledore nodded.

“And we don’t know how many of these things exist or where they are?”

“I have a few clues and some ideas where to start searching, but it is vital we find out how many Horcruxes were created. For that, Harry, I think I need your help,” Dumbledore said with a smile.

Harry just nodded, resigned to his fate. It seemed like this task was becoming harder by the minute.

Monday, 7 July 1996

“…and don’t let me catch you mentioning them again,” the image of an angry Horace Slughorn yelled at the image of Tom Riddle.

Harry felt a by now familiar pull and he found himself standing back in Professor Dumbledore’s office.

They had been viewing memories in the Professor’s Pensieve for most of the day. Harry felt that he was beginning to understand the sort of person Tom Riddle actually was. From the earliest memory of Dumbledore rescuing the boy from a Muggle orphanage, to the just viewed refusal of this Professor Slughorn to help him, Harry had seen much of Tom’s history. The last scene didn’t feel quite right, however.

“That last image, Professor, was there any more of it?” he asked.

“Ah! Now we come to the point where I require your help,” Dumbledore said, taking a seat behind his large desk. “As you have clearly noticed, the memory is far from complete. In fact it has been altered, quite crudely too, I might say.”

“Altered? By who?” Harry asked.

“By Horace Slughorn himself, of course. I suspect that the memory contained something incriminating or shameful to Horace, and so he tampered with his memories. Unfortunately, this is the only memory I have where Riddle is talking directly about the construction of Horcruxes. I believe the missing parts hold vital clues for us,” Dumbledore explained.

“Where is this Slughorn bloke? Can’t you just go and force the memory out of him?” Harry asked.

“Horace has been quite elusive of late,” Dumbledore said with a grin. “He seems to think Voldemort will kill him if he does not join with the Death Eaters soon. In this I think he is quite correct. I do believe, however, that I have discovered his current location. As for forcing the information out of him, I fear this would be extremely difficult. In addition to being a superb Potions Master, he is a wily old wizard and quite capable of repelling any Legilimency I may perform on him. Likewise, I suspect he keeps a vial of Veritaserum antidote on him at all times. No, we must employ more subtle methods.”

Harry privately thought that threatening to stick his Katana up the bloke’s fat arse might be a better method, but he kept that to himself.

“Horace does have one major weakness. He loves to be seen as the guiding hand behind many of his more successful pupils’ rise to fame and riches. He is a classic example of someone who views himself as the power behind the throne. Of course, once his protégé’s have obtained greatness, he is more than happy to accept the odd token of gratitude from them. Be it a hamper of his favourite foods or an invite to the best social functions, he cultivates these relationships with a view that assistance is a two way street,” Dumbledore said with the faint look of distaste on his face.

Harry felt slight annoyance at the Professor's expression. The man might be quite willing to manoeuvre people into doing his bidding, but he condemned what seemed to be a simple exchange of services. At least what Slughorn did was straightforward.

“This is where you come in, Harry,” the Professor continued. “Horace loves establishing contacts with the rich and famous; I rather think you qualify in both categories. I suggest we pay him a surprise visit, ostensibly on the premise that I wish him to return to Hogwarts to teach, not that I would object if he said yes. In reality, you will be trying to persuade him to give up the real memory.”

“And how will I do that?” Harry asked. “I don’t know this bloke at all. If it’s something incriminating like you say, he’s hardly just going to give it to me!”

“I have every faith in your capabilities, Harry,” Dumbledore grinned.

Harry rolled his eyes. “So when are we going to pay Mr Slughorn a visit, then?” he enquired.

“There’s no time like the present,” Dumbledore said, standing up and starting to move to the door. “Let’s strike while the iron is hot!”

Harry followed the Professor out the door. He had a bad feeling about this.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

After leaving the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry and the Professor Apparated to a small village that Dumbledore identified as Budleigh Babberton in Devon. The place seemed completely unremarkable and contained the usual mix of shops, pubs and houses you would expect to see in any English village. Behind them the church clock struck eight which surprised Harry. They had obviously spent longer immersed in the Pensieve than he had thought. It certainly explained why his stomach was growling with hunger.

Dumbledore led them down a side street, and soon they found themselves outside a small, neat stone house set in its own pleasant garden. The only thing ruining the picture of an idyllic country residence was the fact that the house’s front door was hanging off its hinges.

Without needing to be prompted, Harry pulled out his wand and Dumbledore did likewise. Carefully, they edged their way into the house expecting the worst.

Fortunately, it was still light enough to see; and Harry was presented with the sight of complete devastation in the front room. A piano lay on its side with its keys strewn across the floor. Furniture was scattered everywhere, most of it ripped and damaged. The floor was covered in glass where a chandelier had fallen. Ominously, the far wall was splattered with something red and glutinous.

Dumbledore strode into the room and looked around. He then moved to the far wall and examined the red stains. Much to Harry’s revulsion, the Professor dipped his finger into the oozing liquid and then licked it. A grin came onto the old man’s face.

“Fear not, Harry,” he said. “While this is indeed blood, I rather think it’s from a dragon. Of course, what a dragon would be doing in a small house in Budleigh Babberton is open to speculation.”

Dumbledore then turned in a complete circle, examining the room carefully. Without warning, he suddenly swooped on an overstuffed armchair and plunged the tip of his wand into its seat.

“Ouch!” the armchair cried, before morphing into a fat, bald old man with an enormous, walrus-like moustache. Harry recognised him as Horace Slughorn, whom he had seen in the Pensieve.

“Merlin’s beard, Albus!” the man cried. “There was no need to stick your wand in so hard. That hurt!”

“My apologies, Horace, but for all I knew you could have been a Death Eater waiting in ambush,” he replied.

“Yes, well. No harm done. Now I see it’s you come to pay a visit I suppose I’d better set this place to rights,” Slughorn said, looking around.

“Permit me to aid you,” Dumbledore offered. Both men began casting repair spells and in just a few minutes the room took on a more orderly appearance.

“Thank you for your aid, Albus,” Slughorn said, “but you’ve had a wasted journey. My answer is still no. I have no desire to return to Hogwarts.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Horace,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “But that’s not my only reason for this visit. Horace, may I introduce a friend of mine, Harry Potter.” Dumbledore indicated where Harry was standing at the back of the room.

The second Slughorn’s eyes fell on him they lit up.

Harry suddenly felt like a captured insect about to be placed in some young boy’s collection.

“Harry Potter, indeed! Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my boy,” Slughorn said, waddling forward with his hand extended.

Harry shook it reluctantly.

“So, my lad, will you be attending Hogwarts in the autumn? Is this how Albus intends to persuade me to return?” Slughorn asked.

“No, I’ve already taken my NEWTS. I’ve no need to go to Hogwarts,” Harry replied.

Slughorn frowned. “Really? While I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, of course, may I ask why you have chosen to visit this broken, old Potions Master tonight?” Slughorn asked, his eyes suddenly wary.

“You have something I need,” Harry said simply.

Slughorn looked directly at him intently for a second before spinning on his heels and looking at Dumbledore accusingly. “Damn and blast, Albus! We’ve been through this a million times! There is no more to that memory than I have already supplied you with. If it is your intention to quiz me about this again, you can leave now!” he roared.

“Now, Horace, There’s no need for unpleasantness. Let’s just sit and have a drink, and I promise I will not mention that subject again,” Dumbledore said in a calming voice.

Harry immediately noted that the Professor had said nothing about him bringing up the subject.

After some hesitation, Slughorn went to the sideboard and poured three drinks from a bottle filled with amber coloured liquid. He handed one each to Harry and Albus, keeping one for himself. The fat man then waddled over to a chair and sat down. He regarded Harry with a keen eye. “I must say, you do look a lot like your father but…”

“I have my mother’s eyes. Yes, I’ve heard that said a lot in the last few days,” Harry interrupted. “You knew my parents then, Professor Slughorn?”

“Oh, indeed. I must say your mother was one of my all-time favourite pupils. She had an instinctive way with Potions. She always seemed to know what ingredient to add to make something just that little bit better. Wonderful girl -- so kind and vivacious. I always said it was a shame she wasn’t in my house. I was Head of Slytherin, you know.” If this was meant to impress Harry it failed.

“You heard what happened to my mother?” Harry asked rather gruffly. His first impressions of Slughorn were of a self-serving man quick to run if presented with danger. He was not impressed in the slightest.

“Oh, yes. Terrible shame, just terrible,” Slughorn muttered, looking genuinely sorry.

“Yes, it was,” Harry agreed. “And that’s why I intend to do everything I can to defeat Voldemort.”

“Ah, yes. Him.” Slughorn winced at the name. “Well, good luck with that. But there’s nothing a worn-out, old Potions teacher with a weak chest can do to help, I’m afraid.”

“You can give us the missing memories,” Harry said flatly.

Slughorn turned red. “I told you, there are no missing memories!” he shouted.

“Bollocks!” Harry yelled back. “We know the memory you gave Professor Dumbledore was altered! Hell, I could tell that after one viewing. I don’t care if it makes you look bad or incriminates you or whatever. I need information if I’m going to beat Voldemort and you have it.”

“Harry, perhaps we should…” Dumbledore began.

“NO!” Harry shouted.

Slughorn was starting to look extremely uncomfortable in the face of Harry’s wrath, and he squirmed in his chair.

Harry loomed over him. “If you thought so much of my mum, then you should help her son. She died fighting Voldemort and all I’m asking is for you to give up a few memories. We won’t even say where we got them from. We’ll lie and say we drugged you. Whatever you want, I don’t care! Just give me those memories!”

Slughorn stared at Harry in horror.

Harry realised he was starting to glow with a blue light which crackled with energy. He hadn’t been this close to an outburst of uncontrolled magic since he faced Voldemort. He breathed deeply and fought the urge to grab the fat man by the throat.

“It’s true, isn’t it? What they say? That you’re the chosen one? The one who will fight and kill you-know-who?” Slughorn stuttered.

“I don’t know anything about being ‘the chosen one’,” Harry snarled, “but I’m certainly going to be the one to fight Voldemort!”

Slughorn wavered. He was clearly terrified, but just couldn’t decide what to do.

Harry decided to give him some further incentive. Without a word he held out his hand and summoned his Katana to him.

Slughorn shrieked and started to stand, but was forced back by the blade against his neck.

“This is my personal sword,” Harry explained in a cold voice. “I trained for a year in its use and I could cut individual hairs off your moustache with it if I wanted to. Now, in my book you are either for us or against us. If you are for us, you will surrender your unaltered memory of that meeting with Tom Riddle to us now. If you are against us, then I’m going to have to select what body part to cut off first.”

Slughorn looked close to tears. “It’s not that I don’t want to help,” he said in a trembling voice. “It’s just that I think I did terrible harm that day. I didn’t mean to! It’s just that Tom was…very persuasive.”

Harry lowered his sword. “It’s alright, Professor,” he said in a conciliatory voice. “I know just how persuasive Riddle can be. You weren’t the first to be taken in by him, and you certainly won’t be the last.”

Slughorn hung his head and sobbed for a few minutes. He then raised his head and looked directly at Harry. With a look of determination he raised his wand to his head and withdrew a silvery wisp of light.

Dumbledore hurried forward and produced a vial from his robes into which the memory was deposited.

“You’re not very much like your parents, are you, Mr Potter? Other than looks, of course.” Slughorn said in a hard voice.

“I wouldn’t know,” Harry replied, matching his tone. “I never got the chance to get to know them.”

Slughorn nodded sadly before turning to Dumbledore. “If it ever gets out that I’ve helped you then my life won’t be worth living. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you-know-who doesn’t know we’ve talked already. He has ways of finding things out, you know. I think on the whole I would be safest at Hogwarts from this point. I’ll accept that job offer, if I may.”

“Indeed you may, Horace. And may I say I’m glad you’ll be joining us,” Dumbledore said smiling.

“Well, if that’s settled, I’ll be at Hogwarts in the morning. Would you mind seeing yourselves out?” Slughorn said quietly.

Without another word Harry and Dumbledore left the small house. They had walked a few hundred yards before Dumbledore broke the silence. “While I can’t deny their effectiveness, I must say I’m a little disappointed in your tactics in there, Harry. Horace is not our enemy, and he deserves better treatment than that,” he said.

“We don’t have time to be subtle, Professor. If we had played his game, Slughorn would have kept us waiting months for that memory. Anyway, I’m the one who acted aggressively. When you talk to Slughorn next you can blame it all on me. You’ll still be whiter than white,” Harry growled.

“White I may be, Harry,” Dumbledore replied, “but I would appreciate it if you don’t turn black.”

Without another word the two wizards Apparated back to Hogwarts.

AN

Hands up who thought Harry massively overreacted at the end? One…two…what do you mean? Of course I can see you while you’re sat at your computers. Frankly, most of you should be ashamed of yourselves with what you get up to! Anyway, Harry’s reaction will be dealt with in the next few chapters and might end up being a blessing in disguise for a certain person.

I hope I’ve put to rest any concerns anyone might have had about Harry’s reaction to Tonks. Rest assured this is a Honks free zone. It’s just that being without female company at his age can do funny thinks to a lad, the British public school system being a good example of that.

Coming next; a Horcrux hunting we shall go! (Have I mentioned how much I hate bloody Horcruxes?)



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Sink Into Your Eyes is hosted by Grey Media Internet Services. HARRY POTTER, characters, names and related characters are trademarks of Warner Bros. TM & © 2001-2006. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions on this site are those made by the owners. All stories(fanfiction) are owned by the author and are subject to copyright law under transformative use. Authors on this site take no compensation for their works. This site © 2003-2006 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Special thanks to: Aredhel, Kaz, Michelle, and Jeco for all the hard work on SIYE 1.0 and to Marta for the wonderful artwork.
Featured Artwork © 2003-2006 by Yethro.
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