Chapter Text
Chapter One
Merlin Fuck his life, it was far too early for this. Harry stared at the woman in shock, desperate to hear her repeat the words that they’d dragged him from his perfectly pleasant hermit life at 7am for.
“I’m sorry he’s my what now?”
Alison Lumberton, Head of the Liaisons and Bonds Office grinned at Harry cheerfully before waving a perfectly manicured hand at the kneeling figure crouched on the ground.
“Why he’s your slave of course. After his trial yesterday the Wizengamont decided it was really the best decision. But don’t worry the bond really is quite secure. He can’t harm you in any way.”
“Yeah cause that’s what I was worried about.” Harry bit out sarcastically. Seriously, did nobody realise the wrongness of this? Now he really regretted taking a leave from the Wizarding World and point-blank refusing to take any part in the Death Eater trials for it meant he hadn’t knowing they were trying…him. Morgana in Hades this was so so wrong. The world he’d given his life and free will for now disgusted him to his core.
“And its done just like that? A slave bond sealed all snappy?”
She misread his sharp tone and hurried to reassure him. “But of course, if you don’t want him he’ll be dealt with accordingly.”
The crouched figure didn’t dare move a limb yet his eyes glanced up to meet Harry’s for just a split second and were filled with utter terror. He cleared his throat
“How so?”
“Ah well, we’ll simply return him to Azkaban to await the alternate sentence. Execution by the Old Chamber.” Her cheerfulness was making him homicidal and if she didn’t stop Harry was going to leap over the table and strangle her.
“He’ll be returned to Azkaban only briefly, but the sentence can be carried out within a week. The Unspeakables will make a special effort for him.”
Internally, Harry’s head spun with panic. The Old Chamber was essentially a death by torture execution, unimaginably painful and long, long outlawed. Harry only knew of its existence from the oldest bound book in the Black family library and that in itself was telling enough.
“I’ll take him then. What does this bonding entail exactly?”
“Oh all the steps are nearly complete it simply requires a blood exchange a little few words nothing else. He’s already been trained in. It’s the least we could do for you Mr Potter.”
One of the poor clerks who looked about as willing to be here as Harry shuffled his feet and corrected “Lord Potter.” Her smile became marginally frigid for a second as her lipstick stretched thinly.
Ignoring it, Harry thought he did absolutely not want to know what the rest of those steps were and judging by the shuddering form in front of him, they were nothing good. Merlin he was going to vomit.
“Right then. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” his brisk nod covered the complete panic impounding in him, ignored through years of abuse and war and horror and ignored now because damnit couldn’t Harry just be a hermit in peace please. All the blame for it all conceivable just lain at the feet of the man in front of him when Harry knew in his heart that wasn’t the case, knew that if he could tell his own suspected truth the whole of magical society would likely be in ruins. It was easier for them perhaps to lay the blame and punishment on a Riddle who didn’t even have a clue where he was if a terror-filled clouded haze was any indication, let alone how to kill a man or run a fucking terrorist group. But fine, Harry was an expert at the long con by now anyway and losing his shit right now would certainly destroy it. If a slave bond was what it took then he would bloody well suck it up. Still nothing about this stuck right with him, and yet he held out his hand anyway.
Riddle was hauled roughly to his feet by the Azkaban guards, looking like the grip on his clothes-rags really-was the only thing keeping him standing. He was hunched, shorter even than Harry and looking completely blank faced yet he radiated fear. Harry couldn’t look away, not even when both their blood was drawn, Harry’s taken and healed much more gently then the still bleeding cut on Riddles palm, and imbued into a metal band, (a collar Harry realised a split second later with a lurching stomach).
Lumberton offered it to Harry with a big smile, her teeth big and white with lipstick intact and bright red. Harry prayed his hands weren’t shaking as the collar opened at his touch and allowed him to hastily place it on the pale throat forcibly bared to him by the Azkaban guard. His grip on Riddles hair was tight, surely painfully so, but not a thing showed on his face except overwhelming gratitude as Harry repeated the phrases shown to him on an innocuous piece of parchment, the black etchings like a recipe and not a guide to signing someone’s life away.
Harry gritted his teeth. “You can let him go now.” The guard did, literally let him go and Riddle fell to floor in a heap no way graceful, managing to land near Harrys feet and whisper a hoarse dry acknowledgement of “My Lord.”
Harry swallowed twice and, even though the boy wasn’t looking at his face, nodded. Lumberton clapped her hands brightly, clearly not reading the dead tone in the room and said “Excellent, excellent Lord Potter. That collar is the insurance for the bond, the main force of your control really. No escaping, running away, no use of magic without your explicit permission, or at all if you wish of course. It was taken care of by the Unspeakables department.”
Here she gave a childish giggle reminding Harry so much of Umbridge he fought hard not flinch and he saw Riddle lose a similar battle by his feet.
Unminding, she continued on; “It will enforce your orders during the settling period based off the bond while its stabilising. Though of course you can administer your own punishment as can any other lord or lady demand one if there is an public infraction.”
She seemed all too pleased with this and didn’t even flinch when Harry said coolly
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Of course, of course. Well, it’s all here in the guidebook, but if there’s any trouble at all you simply bring him back and we’ll be more than happy to whip him back into shape for you.” As she finished her simpering, Harry swallowed bile and straightened his shoulders.
“Well if that will be everything?”
“Oh indeed, we’ll leave you to get acquainted.” The guards took this as queue and left, Lumberton gliding by to hold the door open for him afterwards.
“C’mon then.” Harry murmured to a pale looking Riddle. “Up you get, and let’s get out of here.”
He stood on shaky feet, already trembling from exhaustion and kept his head bowed as he followed Harry through the silent ministry halls. Thankfully, mercifully they met not a soul, being the hour it was so late at night-they'd kept him waiting for hours for this shit- and as they approached the Floo, Harry found he couldn’t plant his feet there fast enough.