##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### #####

Chapter: 17

A/n: There will be a few graphic scenes in this chapter. So avoid your eyes if squeamish. Really. This is probably the darkest chapter I have written as of yet. And I’m really not screwed up in the head. Well, maybe just a little.

Other than that, after this chapter, Octavio will be taking a slight…absence.

Chapter Seventeen: Don’t Try to Fix Me. I’m Not Broken

“Father.”

Lucius Malfoy looked just as proud and sophisticated as he always did, even in a dark cave. The long blond hair was down to his shoulder blades, no snarls present. From the light of their wands, his rings flashed back smartly. Around his neck, a Death Eater mask hung; abandoned. The only problem; he was in a glass box. His face was nothing but a slack expression- almost if he were a stuffed mannequin.

Shouts spread across the cave, some confused, some outraged.

“He’s playing with you, Harrison.” Snape came up beside him, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

“I knew it!” An Order member shouted in glee, pointing at the Head of the Malfoy family. “He is a Death Eater; nasty, scum, pathetic lot.” And then hell broke loose. Mad Eye Moody, whose hand had been twitching all along, struck first. He threw nasty curses and hexes at the Death Eater’s, cackling in delight as they went down. The Death Eaters took the defensive, fighting back just as maliciously. All around them, spells were being hurtled and one even brushed past Harry.

The spell burned the side of his neck, but he didn’t flinch. His attention was on his father. So lifeless…so… Harry cocked his head to the side, staring at him fully. He was vaguely aware of Voldemort trying to control the lot, his sights set on Mad Eye Moody. The Dark Lord would probably kill the ex-Auror just for the hell of it. What better time to get him than now?

Harry turned toward Snape, who happened to be far away from the break out of duelers. “He’s not real. That’s not Lucius.” The potion master gave him a long look and then studied Lucius. Harry had a bad taste in his mouth. “What if he doesn’t even have my father? What if…” he paused, glancing over his shoulder at the large battle behind him. “What if he planned all this? What if he played on my ability to See and planned it all?”

“You think he set this all up in order to gain possession of you?” It was more of an understanding statement than a question.

“Or is he just placing mannequins up, in order to lure me somewhere?” Harry wondered. “To taunt me.” Ignoring the fight, Harry continued deeper down the tunnel. He didn’t need a bunch of idiots following him, especially if they were like this.

Professor Snape followed at his side. He didn’t say anything about leaving the others behind. Harry was more then aware of Snape’s dissatisfaction of the fighting wizards. “You’re not getting one over on Sirius, Professor?” Harry asked, turning sharply down the tunnel. Snape made a sound of disagreement in his throat, making Harry grin. He could hear some wizards follow after them, afraid of being left outnumbered. As much as they despised Harrison Malfoy, they knew he was someone who could hold up against Lord Voldemort.

Turning to glance over his shoulder, Harry’s eye twitched as he saw them still fighting…mobile this time. Mad Eye Moody was spitting angry, his human eye full of rage at seeing Death Eaters walk so freely in front of him. And the curses he shot out weren’t exactly light and fuzzy.

Without watching where he was going, the floor seemingly opened up beneath him. “Harrison!” Snape tried lunging for him, but he was too late. Giving a shout, Harry fell down the deep pit, his body spiraling down on a metallic looking slide. Throwing back his head, he watched the floor that had opened so easily, slam with a loud ‘bang’. No one had been able to jump after him.

Calming his raging emotions, he allowed the slide to take him to depths below.

--SSC--

They were all cowards. The lot of them.

Snape sneered as they all stepped away from the floor that had just opened abruptly. Silence filtered across the recently noisy tunnel as they all stared stupidly. “Fools,” the Dark Lord whispered softly, dangerously. Snape stiffened at the tone, knowing full well that the Dark Lord wanted to Crucio someone.

“Good riddance,” an Order member mumbled.

Black growled, turning on the one who had spoken against Harrison. “That’s my cousin, you bloody idiot.” The damned werewolf held the mutt back. “You’d do best to shut your mouth.”

It had been impressing, watching Harrison at work when the Death Eaters arrived. For being a master Occlumens, he was able to block out the Seer magic Harrison used, but it was difficult. He had never experienced such magic from someone other than the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. The boy was a powerful force to be reckoned with. And he had matured greatly from the unsure little boy he had seen the past few months to a young man, struggling to find his balance.

Albus was more than anxious to have the Seer on the light, despite seeming to have something up his sleeve. And the Dark Lord and the boy seemed…close. If it had been another who had stood up to the Dark Lord in the mouth in the cave, suggesting to be on the same side for one mission, Severus was positive the said wizard would be shot down with an Avada Kedavra. But not Harrison Malfoy. Instead of being treated coldly from the Dark Lord, he was cradled to the man’s chest after almost collapsing in the Seer room the Death Demon had made. And after the Dark Lord Voldemort had placed up a strong privacy shield, a shield Mad Eye Moody couldn’t even see through, Severus was observant enough to watch the two split- looking awfully bothered.

And then Harrison had tucked an ancient looking locket underneath his robes, a locket that clearly had an elegant ‘S’ carved on the front in emeralds.

He wasn’t an idiot. He knew it was a Slytherin heirloom. And he knew the Dark Lord was a descendant to the Slytherin family.

There was something beneath the scenes, something Severus desired to know. He wasn’t strong enough to perform Legilimency on a Seer and Harrison didn’t have any good friends he could pick apart to find the answers. This was something he needed to find out for himself. What he would do with the information once he found out was still up in the air.

Was Harrison already on the dark side, like his father? Or was he more than acquaintances with the Dark Lord, something that ran deeper? There had to be a reason why Harrison was carrying a Slytherin heirloom around his neck. And lastly, but certainly not least, what was it about Harrison that caused the Dark Lord to bow to someone other than himself? Leading the rear, allowing Harrison to lead, bowing mockingly at the mouth of the cave; it all pointed to lenience. And the Dark Lord was never lenient.

“Stuff it, Black. The reason for our mission is gone. Your little ‘cousin’ will have his head chopped off like the rest of the Seer. I say we head back. Tell Albus we had no luck.” Snape watched Black’s vein in his neck pulse. It was rather amusing to see another Order member, who had been recently quivering in pleasure at Harrison’s magic, talk big when the source of his fear was no longer there.

Before Black could bark out any insults, there was a soft laughter issuing across the cave.

From the expressions on everyone’s faces, it was clear their hair stood on the back of their neck as well as his. The laugh was uncanny, soft, and dangerous. It chilled everyone present. From the shadows, the Dark Lord stepped halfway into their wand light. Snape swallowed, forcing his expression to remain stoic.

Others would claim the Dark Lord exceptionally beautiful and handsome with his sharp facial plans and artistic features, but Severus did not agree. Beautiful and handsome was Harrison Malfoy when he wasn’t using his deadly Seer magic. Lord Voldemort was precarious, not beautiful. The Dark Lord’s appearance was a misconception. He wanted his enemies, even his followers to think him handsome. And when they were dazed or lust hazed, that’s when the Dark Lord would spill blood.

Seeing him now, hidden partially in the shadows, Snape’s notion was only proved. Crimson eyes seemed to glow and his mouth was twisted in malicious humor.

“Oh, my dear boy…” he whispered. Pale and long fingers caressed his wand lovingly. “I’m afraid with your ‘leader’ gone, your peace maker gone; you won’t be…heading back as you so put it.” The Order stiffened, backing up a step as they felt the Dark Lord’s magic curl around their throats as a warning.

And then everything broke apart.

The Death Eater’s took their Master’s words as an ‘ok’ to attack. And they did. With vengeance, they pounced on the Order, a drive to kill. Being confused as both a Death Eater and an Order member, Snape was left out of most the attack. Instead, his eyes were on the Dark Lord. The powerful wizard was in the shadows once more, wrapping his magic around the trap door Harrison had disappeared through. From as much as Snape could see, the Dark Lord wasn’t having any luck.

With an angry hiss, his magic spread through the cave. “Retreat,” Mad Eye Moody growled, his magical eye rolling around in his skull. Snape sneered at the sight. The ex-Auror had a few Death Eaters bound and levitated, ready to bring to the Ministry, but the Dark Lord’s magic wrapped angrily around Mad Eye’s and snapped the bound Death Eaters out of his grasp.

Snape hesitated, watching Black and Lupin do the same. They looked at each other and forced one another to retreat with the rest of the Order. He came with the Order. Should he leave with the Order or blend in with the Death Eaters and observe how it all worked out?

“Leave Severus,” the hissing quality turned deeply serpentine, easily signaling the Dark Lord was angry. His gaze swept over to the tall figure. The crimson gaze wasn’t directed at him, but at the trap door. “I am in no mood for your games.”

He knew when to press and when not to. With one last glance at the glaring eyes through the metallic Death Eater masks, Severus stepped over a dead body of an Order member.

--SSC--

Standing stiffly, he observed his surroundings. He was standing on bones that cracked and snapped with each step he took. Everything was dark except for the body of water across from him. It gleamed metallic in the dark environment, reflecting off the high rocky walls. The ceiling was too far up for him to see where it ended, but he knew he was below sea level. His breath was visible and the puddles of water near the skulls were frozen over by ice.

To him, he considered this scene to be oddly beautiful.

Of course, the only thing ruining it was the Mimes. Their lifeless eyes followed his movements in the dark and their panted faces appeared ghosts in the shadows. They weren’t attacking, only mockingly observing him. He could see the one white glove they wore, knowing the other was black and hidden in the dimness. Their crimson robes were somewhat seeable, but he didn’t look too long on them.

What he was focused on, was the small, rickety boat sitting in the body of water. Inside, there was a Mime holding an oar. With a black gloved hand, it motioned Harry to come closer. Knowing that at the end of the body of water held both his father and Octavio, Harry approached the boat. The craft was full of uneven wood, likely to give him slivers, but he entered anyway. As predicted, his hands got cut up from the wood, drawing blood.

Clenching his jaw, Harry calmly sat down, his hands curled in his lap, watching as the Mime began to row across the body of water. Brilliant green eyes glanced over the Mime’s shoulder in order to see their destination. He saw an island of sorts sitting so unearthly in the middle of the metallic water. It wasn’t far out, about a couple of minutes if the Mime continued on the speed it was currently.

Turning his attention on the lifeless body in front of him, Harry studied the face smiling back at him. The Mime was a female with a man’s haircut. Age was indescribable as she rowed the small boat toward the other end of the lake, pond, whatever it was. She appeared to be in her late teens, early twenties. The dark eyes looking back at him were absent of any life, any acknowledgment to what she was before being her Master’s Mime.

Death Demons ate their victim’s insides, mostly the blood, but sometimes they enjoyed a few organs inside the body cavity. With their powers, they were able to preserve the body’s freshness and pull the strings. Somehow, Death Demons were able to preserve the victim’s mind, allowing their puppet to still move about and cast magic. On their orders of course.

It was far too complex for Harry to truly understand. And there weren’t many books on Death Demons.

Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes and listened to the lull of the water against the boat. Her smile was starting to unnerve him.

His thoughts took him back to the side chamber in the cave. All those heads lost from Seer. He knew Death Demons worked for Fate and Seer were working against Fate- simply by Seeing into the future and changing Fate’s course. But he never knew the hatred Death Demons carried for Seer were so high, that one would personally hunt them like a serial killer.

There had to be more to Octavio’s hate for Seer, other than the usual rivalry between Death Demons and Seer. He’s more than just a painted face.

Eyes snapping open, Harry lurched forward as the boat hit land. Instantly, his Seer was suffocated by the thick emotion here. There was intense loneliness, cruelty, and self-hatred. The loneliness outweighed any emotion Harry had ever felt. And it was even more surprising knowing it wasn’t coming from his father, but Octavio.

Shakily stepping out of the boat, Harry stumbled on the hard ground. It appeared to be caked mud and stone. Nothing very comfortable to live on and he knew this had to be Octavio’s domain.

Continuing forward, leaving the motionless Mime back in the boat, Harry took his surroundings in once again. It was an odd atmosphere. Random items were strewn across the island. In the far corner, there appeared to be another cave dug into the wall. Inside, there was a light on, revealing a couch and a large desk with multiple of tomes and books scattered across. But something told Harry his father nor Octavio were in there.

Looking away from the small dwelling, he observed the pile of discarded bodies. The bodies were dressed of crimson robes and the customary Mime costume; obviously broken or unused soldiers for Octavio. Off to the side, there was an operating table. The metallic shine of the table reflected back off the small candles littered around the island. Clean and sterilized utensils were carefully laid out next to the table, ready to be used once again.

Harry shuddered, feeling an echo of pain through the dwelling. Was this where Octavio consumed his victims? Where he experimented? Everywhere he turned, he could feel the overwhelming emotion of hate and loneliness.

And then he saw him.

Lucius Malfoy was alive and sitting in a box, a similar glass box that Harry had seen upstairs. And he wasn’t a Mime. But he looked worse for wear. The blonde hair was tied back in knots with both grease and mud. Usually pale skin was ghastly and stained with dried blood and dirt. But those sharp mercury eyes were still held the same intensity and they were currently directed at him.

“Father,” Harry took a step closer. Lucius’ eyes watched him approach, a heavy frown on his face, almost a disproving expression. Lucius shook his head, his hand pressed against the glass, looking at Harry with slight desperation.

“Pretty little doll, isn’t he?” A voice breathed in his ear. Harry stayed facing forward, feeling slightly nauseated at Ocatvio’s emotions. He wondered why he hadn’t sensed them before at the ball for his birthday. Perhaps he wasn’t concentrating hard enough on just Octavio or maybe it was because of Pythia’s warning that he was paying more attention. Whatever it was, Harry had to place a small shield up in order to veil the brunt of the emotions.

“But not as pretty as you, my little Seer.” Lips brushed across the shell of his ear and Harry flinched back, whirling around to take in Octavio.

Bloody red hair, eyes, and the designs on his white face were crimson. Everything was a dark red today. “I remembered you like crimson. It’s a special occasion.” Octavio grinned, revealing his sharp teeth. “Hm.” He hummed, taking a step closer. “You look a little…squeamish, my little Seer. Tell me you haven’t lost all that spunk I love so much.”

“No,” Harry lifted his chin, staring at the Death Demon in the eyes. “I just find it hard to look at you after all the things you’ve done.”

Octavio gave a mock frown, thinking over Harry’s words. “What I’ve done?” Crimson painted lips twisted upward. “Oh,” he gave a small chuckle. “You must have seen The Seeing Room.” A wink. “I named it myself. I’d think you’d be honored with my efforts.” Octavio bent down in order to be eye level with Harry. Holding out his hands, palms out, he made a square gesture that appeared to be a picture frame. “I have a gold frame for one last Seer. The Seer I’ve been longing to get for a long time now.”

“Let me guess,” Harry’s voice came out raw. “Pythia Zabini.” He remembered Seeing her death and hoped he could somehow stop it before it came to pass.

Octavio leaned back, clapping his hands in front of his face. “You are good at this, Harrison Regulus.” Harry glanced sideways at his father. The man was attentive and rigid. “You amuse me greatly. And you don’t underestimate me like every other wizard and human has done before.” Harry’s ears perked at the statement. Granted, he’d heard that before, that he didn’t underestimate Octavio, but now- now it sounded as if it were spoken with underlying emotion. Bitterness.

“I don’t,” Harry turned his attention back on a grinning Octavio. “Why would I? You have my father locked up like some…animal.” More like a mannequin, but Harry wouldn’t compare anything to a doll or puppet around Octavio. The man wanted him to connect it like that.

“Don’t sound so aggravated, Harrison. It doesn’t suit that pretty little face of yours.” Cold fingers tapped his chin.

A boy shivered against the wall, clutching his knees to his chest. The little boy looked up, revealing startling blue eyes that appeared almost white in color. Fat tears ran down his cheeks in rivulets, smearing the crimson blood on his face. “Please da, no!” The little child flinched as a belt came down on him.

Harry gasped breathlessly at the vision. He knew it had been Octavio as a youth, or possibly the one abusing. “What do you want with me? With my father?” Octavio grinned, reaching out a hand to pet Harry’s hair. He stood their stiffly, able to handle things such as petting.

“I want you. Your head is far too valuable to hang up on an abandoned old wall, Harrison Regulus.” The fingers stroked his hair harder. “No, I want you as my own personal assistant. Really, not a Mime, sweet Seer, an assistant.”

“An assistant?” Harry asked dubious. “And what’s the difference between a Mime and an assistant?”

The hand in his hair left as Octavio curled it underneath his chin. Smiling, the Demon surveyed Harry. “A Mime is my victim, my army, my food. You, my assistant, will still be bodily intact, able to think for yourself at times, and help me…with things.” He gave a suggestive smile. “Just think, a Seer by my side. I must be going crazy.”

“Perhaps.” Harry started grumpily. “What are you going to do with my father then?”

“Tell me, sweet, do you want to stay with Lucius forever? Or do you never want to see him again?” Harry clenched his jaw, hating how Octavio was giving him an amused smile, a knowing smile.

“Do I have a choice?”

“You always have a choice.”

Raising an eyebrow, he looked as his father. It was a trick question. Did he want to stay with Lucius forever? Or never see him again? Obviously, Octavio would kill Lucius for the second option but for the first option, Harry didn’t know if it was either a positive or negative. “Of course, you don’t have to choose now. We have things to do before we need to decide his fate.” Becoming wary with Octavio’s sadistic expression, Harry brought his magic out in the open.

It probably wasn’t the best thing to do around a Death Demon.

Octavio tisked silkily, ruby eyes shining in delight. Before Harry could register what had happened, he was flat on his back, motionless. His muscles were paralyzed and he couldn’t even move his eyes. “Remember on your birthday, I bit your little neck?” Yes, he did. It had been incredibly painful. “By biting you, I now can play with you the way I want.” Cold hands shot out and grabbed his body, pulling him up bridal style.

Harry couldn’t speak; he was a prisoner in his own body, all because of an old bite from a Death Demon. His magic was dormant, not even a glimmer of hope. “Before you become my assistant, there are a few adjustments we must make.” Frozenly, Harry watched as he was laid out on the operation table, the cold surface chilling his small body. “You see,” Octavio began again, pulling on latex gloves.

Fear welled up in Harry’s chest as he tried to struggle against the invisible bonds the Demon placed on him. But everything in his body remained slack as he stared up at the ceiling. “You see, I enjoy my minions to be…silent. I don’t like when people talk back to me. It just makes such a mess, if you know what I mean.” A scalpel glittered in the dim light, clutched in Octavio’s fist. “Now, why don’t we adjust your head…just a...” fingers turned his head in the direction of his father. “A bit…”

Sadistic man.

Harry was forced to stare at his father’s distressed face. Lucius still had his hands pressed against the glass, probably trying in vain to break it down with his wandless magic. “You’ll be so pretty without a voice, my seer.” The scalpel came down and sliced across his Seer mark. Harry felt the skin open, but he didn’t feel any pain. Perhaps it was a side affect of being bond and seemingly drugged under the Demon’s hold. “You’ll have to express yourself through those pretty green eyes of yours.”

Lucius looked green as he bowed his head away from Harry.

Octavio placed his hand on Harry’s head, bracing himself in order to get at the crook of Harry’s neck.

Harry was sitting next to the boy who had cried in the corner in his earlier vision. He was more than sure it was a young Octavio. The boy was very petite and painfully thin. It was difficult to tell his age, perhaps in his early teens. Octavio was sitting on a park bench, staring at a group of people pass him. It looked like a muggle environment as there were no robes or wands out. Harry studied the young Octavio, taking special interest in his real appearance.

Chocolate brown hair and blue, almost white eyes. He was adorable.

The boy swung his legs back and forth, blinking as he watched a group of sidewalk performers. Harry observed Octavio’s lazy interest and turned to see what the boy was looking at. His heart gave a deep thud as he watched two mimes working on the street; their faces a customary white with thick make up. The men and women passing them by turned away, not in the least bit amused- if somewhat frightened. The mimes just frowned and motioned with their hands to one another.

“Smart creatures,” a voice murmured into Octavio’s ear. Harry turned to study a tall and adult man, leering in Octavio’s ear. The boy had stiffened and the feeling of fear was thick. “They hide behind a mask. No emotion needs to seep through.” The man had vivid brown eyes and when he turned to look at the mimes, Harry witnessed a Seer mark on his cheek. “no… weakness.”

Standing up, Harry stood in front of them, wanting to see better.

Octavio’s legs had stopped swinging and he looked in front of him in a tunnel like vision. The Seer gave a deep chuckle, touching Octavio’s hair. “Emotions are what control our lives. They are so…powerful. One chemically negative emotion and you’ll have suicide, murder, depression.” Harry was captivated by the scene in front of him. Octavio must have known the Seer and vice versa to give off such fear.

“You’re father killed my lover.” The Seer’s voice was bitter as he gave a leer at the child. “He ate her.” Octavio whimpered, clutching the bench with white knuckles. “You Demons are vile creatures.” The hand petting Octavio’s hair paused. “But I won’t hurt you, it wasn’t your fault after all.” Octavio slumped his shoulders in relief. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t play with your family. With your father.” Straightening up, the Seer gave Octavio a sick smile. “You’ll understand then, that Seer are the superior creatures. And that emotion is our weakness.”

And then the Seer disappeared.

Giving one last glance at the mimes, Octavio stood up and ran home.

Harry breathed raggedly as he felt the scalpel open his throat like butter. He couldn’t feel a thing, but judging from his father’s ill expression, he knew it was a horrible sight. “The voice box is considered the larynx. If I tamper and cut a few cords and cartilage, you’ll be all set for my assistant role.”

Standing there, Harry breathed in the fear and the confusion. The usually warm family had turned sour.

Green eyes were locked on the young Octavio, feeling the emotional anguish coming from the youth. Falling to his knees, Harry attempted to take calming breaths, the overwhelming pain too much. For feeling such pain, the little boy didn’t show any tears, only appearing as a stiff board. White-blue eyes stared at the scene in front of him.

His mother had a noose around her neck, her delicate feet swinging softly back and forth in the open air.

Tears fell down his cheeks. The overwhelming feelings, the emotions, they were too much for a Seer; especially a Seer without a barrier. Octavio was a screwed up individual because he was tampered with by a Seer in his childhood. No wonder he hated so much. The scalpel sliced something apart in his throat. It could have been a thick piece of skin, or maybe cartilage, whatever it was, his father turned away again.

“Pity you’ll have a scar. You’re skin is so flawless…”

Octavio had scars. Deep, emotional scars.

He was back in another vision, staring at the mime again. But this time, the Octavio next to him was no longer a young child, but a young adult. His eyes were void, staring at the performer across the street. Sitting next to him, Harry knew things about him that no other would know. To passerbyers, they saw a lonely boy or a pensive young man. They were right, but only just scrapping the surface. Harry felt the rejection in Octavio, he could feel the painful welts and bruises across his body from his father’s beatings. And he could feel the confusion from Octavio who had just killed his father and the feeling of success for just escaping his hell.

Their family had once been happy, but because of the Seer, they were turned into a broken family. All through Octavio’s life, because of the Seer, no one ever befriended him. They saw him as a freak, someone unworthy of acceptance and love. His mother, whom had been the light in his life, had hung herself after being affected by the Seer’s powers. And the man he looked up to as his father, turned his affection into violence.

Harry could feel the young Demon’s thoughts. No one would accept him. Not one.

“Emotions are weak,” Octavio whispered to himself, staring at the mime. “But behind a mask…no one will ever see.”

Staying on the bench, Harry watched Octavio stand up and make his way over to the mime. Something inside him snapped that day, turning him into the crazed man he was today.

Was it perhaps his growing ability that caused him to See so much of Octavio? Or was it just because of the close contact? Harry hoped it was the first.

Seer were powerful creatures, the one in Octavio’s life was a good example. Harry didn’t think there was anything wrong with what the Seer had done to Octavio’s family, simply because he would do the same if a loved one was killed. But he did think Octavio wasn’t the one that should have been affected. Because of growing up with rejection and violence, Octavio never experienced acceptance.

And that was his weakness.

Feeling something inside him grow, Harry’s hand shot out and curled around Octavio’s wrist. Green eyes averted from his father to Octavio’s surprised stare. And with a heavy heart, Harry poured emotion into Octavio. Emotion the man had never remembered. Emotion that he would never connect with a Seer using.

Love. A mother’s love, Octavio’s mother. And with the love, he poured warm acceptance, affection, and approval.

Octavio’s eyes lost their craziness, their mask, and turned to shock. Harry held onto the wrist even after Octavio tried to pull away abruptly. The instruments around them clattered to the floor as Octavio tried to rear back, away from Harry. And then he stilled as Harry pushed away the feeling of solitude and isolation. It was so thick and packed inside Octavio that it took a large push to take it all out.

Harry never experienced anything like Octavio before. It made him almost certain that the Seer had planted dark seeds of emotion inside the Death Demon. And those dark seeds had planted and grew inside their victim, tearing away at his sanity.

Sweating and trembling, Harry cleared dark emotions, shedding light and neutral emotions on the void spaces after the sinister sentiments left holes. He had never thought he would be clearing out dark emotions from an individual. He had always imagined pouring ominous emotions into someone, leaving them to collapse from weakness. Giving light so freely like this, gave him a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn’t his favorite thing to do, but for some strange reason, he felt as if he should be doing this for Octavio; despite the fact he didn’t owe the man anything.

After he cleared out all the planted emotions the Seer had left inside Octavio, Harry collapsed in aftershock. What he did, it wouldn’t affect Octavio’s personality very much. The man would still bear the emotional scars and have somewhat of the same personality. But this time around, he might be a tad less insane without the seedlings the Seer had planted.

After this, Harry vowed he would practice some dark Seer magic. Egh. This was far too much light. He had an idea what to experiment with. Depression. And seeds. Or Seeds. He’d call them Seeds. Looking into Octavio’s troubled aura and soul gave him many ideas for his enemy.

Octavio shuddered next to him, staring at him with too many emotions. It gave him a headache. “Get out,” Octavio whispered, waving his hand in the direction of Lucius. The glass cage disappeared. “Get out.” He said more fiercely, turning his back and stalking back into his dwelling. Harry was far too weak to lift himself up.

He felt his father rush over to him and then everything went black.

--SSC--

“Harrison…”

Harry breathed.

“Harrison,” someone shook him gently. Merlin. He saved the bloody idiot and he was waking him up. He needed to sleep. Lifting up a hand he batted away the hand. “Harrison, sweetie.” It was his mother’s voice now. “You need to wake up and speak.”

The smell of lilacs and all other types of auras made him aware his parent’s weren’t the only ones here.

Something cold probed his sore neck. Now that he was awake and aware, he could feel how…butchered his throat felt. It was difficult to swallow, more than difficult. And it burned. Blinking open his eyes, he saw a handful of people looking down at him. His father, who was still dirty, his mother, a Healer, and the Dark Lord. “Mr. Malfoy, you need to speak. I need to see if I’ve mended your larynx well enough.”

Harry’s fingers ventured up to his cheek, feeling for any wounds Octavio gave him on the Seer mark. It was healed already.

A hand grabbed his wandering one, squeezing it. Narcissa gave him a warm smile, brushing back his hair. “Come now, darling. Can’t you speak?” She looked uncertain but there was more to it than that. Her face was shallow and slightly grey. The fingers holding his were incredibly thin and fragile like.

Pressing his lips together, he looked up at the ceiling, gathering courage to break through the burn at his throat. His free hand danced up to his throat, intent on feeling, until it was snatched by long fingers. “Not the best idea,” the Dark Lord advised.

The Healer gave a sheepish shrug, holding up his wand and a few silver instruments. “I still need to close it up.”

The Dark Lord pulled at Harry’s hand, drawing attention onto him. “Start slow, little one. Parseltongue is much easier on your throat than human tongue.” Harry’s arm was strung up in Voldemort’s hold and he fell limp like a rag doll. He had no strength. Of course no one here would know, because they weren’t there. His father was, granted, but Lucius wouldn’t understand how much magic he used to get rid of the Seeds inside Octavio.

Staring into the slit crimson eyes, Harry opened his mouth. “F-fine.” It burned incredibly and hot tears sprang to his throat. “I’m…fine.” He spoke English, blacking out once again from the pain.

--SSC--

Red eyes stared at the collapsed form of his Match. They would be having a discussion when the child woke up once again.

“Lucius?” he murmured silkily. The blonde man looked up. His crimson eyes stayed locked on his Match. “I think it’s time for us to complete the Ritual. A week’s time, we will gather your son and the other four and complete the Cannius Ritual.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### ##### #####