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[#12 Grimmauld Place, 29th August 1995]
The mutt was staring at him again. Their eyes met across the kitchen, one pair blue, filled with longing and worry; the other a cold, dim green, framed with dark and sunken bags.
The blue eyes were quickly averted, as upon being caught looking Sirius Black tore his eyes away from where Harry sat alone at the far end of the dinner table. The green eyes narrowed slightly in response, before flicking to another area of the room. ‘How pathetic,’ Harry thought to himself. Even now, with only three days left before his return to Hogwarts, Sirius couldn’t pluck up the courage to speak to him. Not that he cared in the slightest.
It was rare that any of them spoke to him, in fact, though that had not always been the case. Sirius himself had once been warm and eager when he interacted with Harry, frequently sending him letters throughout the previous year. But truth be told, Sirius had never really known him. Their meeting in his third year had been far too brief to impart any meaningful impressions of his personality on Sirius, and even in the little over a year since then Harry knew he had changed significantly. So Sirius had simply acted towards him based on his expectations of what James Potter’s son would be like – expectations with very little basis in reality.
When the two had met up here at #12 Grimmauld Place earlier this summer, and those expectations began to fall away… Well, suffice to say Sirius had quickly withdrawn from regular interaction with his godson. It had rapidly reached the current state of no communication between the two, and Harry honestly had no real desire to change that.
His relationship with the Weasleys was in no better shape, he knew, as he allowed his eyes to settle on the group of loud redheads clustered at the other end of the table. He had been close to them back in his first year and a half of Hogwarts – back when he had been so naive. But as Harry’s eyes had opened and his circumstances changed during his second year – as he strove to grow stronger – he had drifted away from both Ron and Hermione. Nowadays he rarely interacted with either of them, and with him no longer serving as the glue holding their relationship together the two were rarely even civil to each other. Naturally, that left an all but non-existent relationship between himself and the rest of the Weasley clan too – despite Mrs Weasley’s overbearing attempts to mother him this summer, which he had vehemently rejected.
His eyes continued around the table, taking a moment to rest upon each of its three remaining occupants – Mundungus Fletcher, Nymphadora Tonks, and Remus Lupin. He had never bothered interacting with Fletcher, so knew little about the man beyond his thieving lifestyle. The man was beneath him, and he had no intention of debasing himself by conversing with people like him. Tonks was wary of him for whatever reason, so she kept her distance, which suited him just fine. Lupin though… now he was a threat.
Lupin was repulsed by him, he knew – something about his scent being absolutely abhorrent to his enhanced senses. Whilst he had never had a private conversation with the man due to the utter revulsion that flared up in his eyes when he got too close to him, he often wondered how much Lupin knew. Thankfully though, Harry had long since deduced that Lupin’s sense of smell was not specific enough to allow him to deduce the cause of his… stench. Either that or Lupin had written it off as corruption emitted by his scar, which he’d once heard Dumbledore mention carried the lasting imprint of dark magic.
Still, he had to be careful around Lupin. It wouldn’t do to get careless and provoke his suspicion any further, lest he start to investigate or, even worse, take the matter up with Dumbledore. Whilst he’d never really had much of a relationship with the headmaster to speak of, he knew that after the events of the Triwizard Tournament Dumbledore had been watching him closely enough this summer to make him uncomfortable. He was fortunate that he’d planned for the summer before it began. It would not do at all for the headmaster to be given a reason to look any closer at him than he was already doing.
He was abruptly torn from his thoughts by the clatter of metal-on-metal, as his fork fell from his fingers onto his plate. His hand had suddenly twitched violently, and he cursed himself for allowing his attention to slip onto the fools surrounding him. Twitches and spasms like this had been becoming increasingly common in the last few days, but with careful and consistent focus they could be controlled. He just needed to hold it together for three more days until he could get back to Hogwarts… Distractions could not be afforded.
Unfortunately, though, it was too late to berate himself now – the others around the table had all turned to look at him in response to the noise. Slowly and carefully, he rose to his feet and slipped his hands into the pockets of his robes.
“I’m full. If you’ll excuse me, I have an essay to finish,” he stated coolly, before calmly pushing his chair back and beginning to make for the door. He held his hands clenched tightly within his pockets, lest another… incident occur.
The majority of them simply turned back to their food, but he saw Sirius begin to rise to his feet, mouth opening as if to say something. Before he had the chance, however, Harry stepped through the threshold of the door and quickly swung it closed behind him. He knew Sirius wouldn’t follow – his chance was gone and his courage would fail him, as it always seemed to.
He made his way calmly through the hall, past the curtain-covered portrait of Walburga Black, then up the stairs and into the room he’d been given when he arrived earlier in the summer. He closed the door behind him, then sagged back against it as he released the muscle tension holding his misbehaving limbs in check. As he relaxed his hands he felt the slight twitches return, followed by a cold sensation that slowly swept through his limbs then across his whole body, deadening his sense of touch as it went. As always, it was an unnerving sensation – one which had caused him much panic the first time it had happened – but one that by now he’d grown used to. Just because he was now used to it did not mean that he enjoyed it, however – the coldness left shivers and fatigue in its wake, and lacking any sense of touch felt deeply unnatural no matter how many times he experienced it. He’d been careless today by waiting too long – a quick glance at his watch told him he was a quarter hour overdue.
With more effort than he would have liked, he pushed himself off the door and turned to face it, pulling an old brass key from his pocket which he slid into the lock and turned until he heard it click. Then, he made his way over to the small bedside cabinet in the room and allowed himself to fall to his knees next to it, not feeling any pain from the impact thanks to his deadened senses. He slid his hand under the cabinet and began groping around, trying to find something that he could not feel, and after a moment the silky fabric of his invisibility cloak caught on the ends of his fingers. He closed his hand around it and pulled it out into the open, before unwrapping it carefully to reveal the worn wooden box that it hid from sight.
He climbed back to his feet, and carefully carried the box that held his most prized possession over to his bed. When he was seated on top of the covers, he laid the box upon the sheets and opened it to reveal a water skin, and a dull red stone which sat within a worn stone bowl. A stone generally thought to have been the casualty of an accident in the bowels of Hogwarts castle a little over three years ago – a Philosopher’s Stone.
Just as he had so many times before, Harry silently raised his wand and brought it into contact with the Philosopher’s Stone before him. His cold gaze did not change as he watched a red glow slowly surround the stone, and a pale pink liquid slowly begin to ooze out of it into the bowl. He remained in that position for almost five minutes, with a satisfied look slowly growing on his face until the bowl was a little over half full, at which point he removed his wand and allowed the glow to fade away.
Reaching down, he plucked the stone from the bowl and placed it carefully on the box’s lid, noting with satisfaction that its removal had settled down the bowl’s contents to almost exactly the halfway mark. Turning next to the water skin, he picked it up but immediately cursed quietly to himself. It was all but empty, despite the enchantments that were placed upon it that allowed it to hold much more than would appear possible. He’d been rationing it, and had hoped that he could make it last until he got back to Hogwarts where he could replenish the supply, but it looked like he’d fallen short.
That this would likely be the last dosage it could supply was… unfortunate. He was just glad that the skin hadn’t run out any earlier, and he shuddered as the potential consequences of that flashed through his mind. He’d just have to slip away during the welcoming feast and replenish his supplies immediately. Not ideal, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to wait any longer.
Banishing such thoughts for now, he removed the stopper and tipped the skin over the bowl. A greedy look bled into his eyes as he poured the last of the silvery unicorn blood that the skin held into the bowl half full of Elixir of Life. An angry hiss erupted from the bowl as the two mixed, and the mixture quickly turned pitch black. The colour represented taint, he knew, as if the Elixir of Life itself was aware of what he was doing to it – aware that the blood taken from a slaughtered unicorn was being mixed with it to create something unthinkable. But Harry was long since past the point of caring about such things – he’d made his choice years ago.
When the last of the blood had trickled out of the skin, Harry capped it again and replaced it in the box. It was empty now, and so it would remain until he got back to Hogwarts. Then, at last, he carefully lifted the bowl holding the black mixture and brought it to his lips. He gulped it down greedily until none remained, and only then put the bowl down.
Through much experience he knew that the effect was not instantaneous. It took a good two minutes to take effect – the time needed, he assumed, for the mixture to work its way into his system in sufficient quantity. This time he spent quickly packing the box back up, wrapping it once more in his invisibility cloak, and sliding it back into its hiding place under the cabinet – well away from any prying eyes. He then returned back to his bed and lay back on the covers, as he felt his concoction begin to take effect.
Slowly but surely, liquid fire began to creep through his body, and a quiet moan slipped from his lips as the euphoric feeling began to overcome him. His arms and legs twitched sporadically, but he no longer cared as his mind retreated into a familiar, pleasant haze. This, this is what he longed for.
He lay there for what felt like hours, yet he knew in reality was only a matter of a few minutes, before the feeling finally retreated and he pushed himself off the bed and onto his feet with a groan. The cold sensation suffusing him was now gone, and his sense of touch had returned, as it always did. He revelled in how heightened it now seemed to be as he made his was over to the mirror above his dresser. As he reached it, he gazed into it greedily.
His own face looked back at him, the same as ever. The dark and sunken bags surrounding his eyes looked slightly darker, something he had come to expect, but his face glowed with such energy and vitality that they did not stand out as much as they had before. And his eyes…
Gone was the cold, dim look which had dominated his eyes earlier, replaced instead by a raging green fire that radiated power and strength. A malicious grin slowly spread across his face as his right hand twitched, itching to hold his wand and release that power as he so often had before. But he knew he could not indulge the urge. Not here, in this house, surrounded by Order members.
The grin slowly slipped from his face as he accepted this, and he turned away from the mirror to head back to the bed. He would have to kill another unicorn as soon as he got back to Hogwarts, and that would be difficult. Animals would no longer come near him since he’d started drinking the blood, almost as if they could sense the taint upon him, and the unicorns in the Forbidden Forest bolted at the sight of him. They knew that he’d been butchering their siblings for their blood, and then disposing of the corpses.
Last year’s kills had grown more difficult each time, but he knew that he would succeed no matter how difficult it proved to be. How could he not, when the reward was so great? The power that it gave him made him a predator in a world full of weak prey.
Voldemort had been right, years ago in front of the now shattered Mirror of Erised when he spoke to Harry of power. ‘There is only power and those too weak to seek it’. But both he and Dumbledore wrongly believed that power could only be obtained by siding with either of them, and it being granted by them. Harry knew better. He was living proof of it.
He had sunk to depths lower than any had before – corrupting the pure and powerful Elixir of Life with something so tainted. He had given up his humanity and willingly taken a cursed path in life. But he didn’t regret it. Not at all.
As he lay there on the bed, staring at the ceiling, the malicious smile slowly returned to his face. He had found his own route to power, and despite what he had given up, despite what others would say and do to him if the truth ever emerged, despite the looks and words filled with horror and disgust that his parents had thrown at him when they emerged from Voldemort’s wand in the graveyard just a few short weeks ago… despite it all, he was proud of it.
He would never give it up, because it gave him the power and capability to stand on his own. It made him unique. It reduced everyone’s hopes and expectations of him to nothing. It freed him from them all… and ultimately, that was all that he’d ever wanted.
And that, that meant that he had to succeed. There was no choice. He would find a unicorn, gut it and take its blood. It was a small price to pay, after all. His fiery green eyes burned darkly as the plan slid into place in his mind.
‘Three more days, and then it’s time to hunt.’