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When Rabastan entered the dining area that morning, he thought, for a moment, that he'd walked through the wrong doors - which wouldn't be the first time, mind you. Why did the Malfoys always feel the need to have such a big place? The Lestranges were well-off, more so than the Malfoys but you didn't see them buy a 55-rooms manor, uh? Sure, it was useful right now considering the number of escaped Death Eaters who couldn't risk being seen outside and were currently too weak to use magic. Rabastan himself could barely use magic right now and anything more than a Wigardium Leviosa would put him out of commission for a few hours. He knew all too well that he was in no condition to help his Lord with anything Death Eaters business-related but he wanted to be useful again. His body was weak. He could barely lift a plate and even that required some effort on his part. “Traîner sa carcasse” (1) makes sense here, in his case.
That being said, Rabastan could walk around the Manor just fine. It was tiring but it was better than staying in bed. Needless to say, he did not expect to see Harry Bloody Potter sitting at the table, eating breakfast (a bowl of … Rabastan had no idea what it was but it looked like muggle food) beside a flustered Thorfinn Rowle. To be fair, he did not immediately recognize the boy (young man?) as the Boy-Who-Lived. From what he had seen on the papers – don't attack him for reading that rubbish, he had a lot of free time now!-, the boy was like a mini-James Potter but with Evans' green eyes. The boy in front of him was... different. The lad had long wavy black hair gathered in a high ponytail. He didn't have glasses either so his Avada eyes weren't hindered by ugly round glasses. He looked... He looked softer than Potter (James) and he was a lot shorter too with a lithe body. He looked like a Potter, sure, and that was probably why he recognized him at all but he also looked distinctly... other... Otherworldly.
For a few moments, Rabastan could only stare with his hand on the handle of the open door.
“Wha -... What's going on?” he asked quietly.
Thorfinn looked away from Potter and gave him a blank look (that clashed terribly with his flushed cheeks. Honestly, Thorfinn, you're not fooling anyone).
“Honestly? No clue. Our lord was here earlier. He told me that Harry Potter was not to be hurt in any way shape or form.”
Rabastan blinked.
“And was it before or after Potter decided to use your lap as a chair?”
Because, no, Potter was in fact not seated beside Rowle, he was in his lap. Rabastan resisted the urge to scream. What the hell was going on!? If Bellatrix had been the first in the room, it would have been a bloodbath. Then again Bellatrix couldn't use magic either right now. Not to say that she needed magic to hurt people but it certainly helped her. She didn't like fighting like a muggle. No one of them did. It was too... mundane.
Rowle somehow managed to blush even more: his face burst into a vibrant shade of red. Uh, before today, Rabastan didn't even know that this Rowle could blush (Ramsay Rowle was an entirely different story; he blushed so prettily when Rabastan bedded him during their last year of school).
Potter put his spoon in his bowl and looked up:
“Oh, hello!” he greeted him cheerfully.
Rabastan stared. Then he straightened, feeling like his father had just hit him on the back of the head for his lack of manners.
“Good morning...”
What was he supposed to say? "Good morning, Potter."? Or throw away his manners and ask what the hell he was doing here? And how did he even manage to get here?
He opened his mouth to ask just that when a new (familiar) voice called out:
“Oh, you're already awake?”
The youngest Lestrange turned toward his older brother: Rodolphus and Rowan Lestrange were walking toward him. Despite being sixty-nine, their father barely looked fifty years old. Talk about good genes.
Rabastan tried to say something but he seemed to be missing his voice. Instead, he turned around to look back at the dining area. Nope. Not a hallucination. It was real, then.
Potter was no longer looking at him, too busy with his breakfast.
The Lestranges' Lord and Heir walked past Rabastan only to stop and freeze at the sight that awaited them.
Rabastan barely managed to suppress a snicker. It was their turn to be blindsided, ha!
Then he saw his older brother pull out his wand without aiming and snorted. Honestly, what was he hoping to accomplish? Foolish big bro. He couldn't risk using magic while his core was severely depleted.
Their father, at least, knew that there must have been something going on because he didn't even try to reach for his wand. He blinked at the newcomer before walking around the table to sit in front of the young man.
“Heir Potter? A pleasure to meet you. I am -”
“Lord Rowan Seraphinus Lestrange, I know. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,” the raven-haired boy cut him off with a soft voice, looking at Rowan with a curious yet amused gaze.
Rodolphus stared at the Boy-Who-Lived and then at his father who didn't even have the decency to look shocked or surprised!
Rowan raised a brow at Thorfinn Rowle. Rowle had been sixteen years old when the first war (not counting the Grindelwald-related war) ended in 1981. He had yet to be marked despite following in his father's footsteps. As such and with a huge amount of luck and gross incompetence from the Ministry, he had never even been suspected to be a Death Eater. He was only marked after their Lord's resurrection the year before.
Considering how inarticulate his younger son was at the moment, Rowan knew that the most likely to have answers to his questions was Thorfinn. That and the fact that his face gave away the fact that they must have been talking before their arrival.
Thorfinn cleared his throat.
“Hum... Our Lord told me that H – Potter is not be harmed in any way.”
“Seriously!?”
Thorfinn and the two Lestrange brothers jumped and looked at the entrance of the dining area. Antonin Dolohov, Evan Rosier, Augustus Rookwood, Billius Mulciber along with Alecto Carrow, Logan Avery and Sylvanus Jugson were gathered there, just staring at them. Understandable considering the presence of the supposed enemy eating breakfast at their table. Eating a very muggle breakfast at a very magical table.
Rowan barely suppressed a smirk.
“I have many questions but first...” Alecto started, blinking repeatedly at the scene before her. “Why is he sitting in your lap, Rowle?”
“I, uh... he – I...”
Clearly, they weren't going to receive any help from him. Thankfully, Potter seemed to be fully functioning.
“It was comfy. The chairs are not. Why buy super expensive chairs if they're not even comfortable?”
Rodolphus snorted. Yeah, he asked that question to Lucius but the bastard just sniffed disdainfully at him. Rodolphus hated talking to him. Lucius always looked at him like he was above him. Ha! The Malfoys may have been well-off and noble but they were nothing like the Lestranges. Sooner or later, Lucius would have to learn. Slowly, the Death Eaters trailed into the dining area and took their seats around the table.
Evan was serving himself a cup of tea when the conversation started again:
“I'm surprised Lucius is not there,” Antonin commented lightly, giving Potter an amused look.
Potter's lips twitched.
“He was annoying me.”
Billius Mulciber nudged Sylvianus Jugson and talked quietly to his ear:
“Is seriously no one going to question why Potter is here? And not chained or killed?”
Jugson shrugged.
“Well, I'm certainly not gonna question it. It's too early. Besides, I'm sure there is a logical explanation.”
'Logical explanation, my ass,' Billius thought bitterly.
Then again Jugson was right. It was too early to ask the many questions he had regarding all of this.
“Annoying you?” Alector repeated.
Potter hummed and turned in his seat to grab something on a vacant chair. It was a large terrarium in the form of a wine glass. Inside, a single toad was jumping up and down in visible frustration. Its particularity? It was albinos.
Augustus choked on his toast just as Barty was entering the room:
“Is that -”
“Is that fucking Lucius Malfoy!?” Barty exclaimed bouncing to the now vacant seat beside Harry and Thorfinn.
Rosier and Avery froze.
“What.”
Harry just grinned at the newcomer:
“It is!” he chirped.
Barty did not look surprised to see Potter here, Rodolphus noted, blinking. Why? Why wasn't he surprised? Granted, Barty never acted the way they expected him to, not since they found out he didn't die in Azkaban like they all thought.
Instead of readying his wand and cursing the teen, like half of the room expected him to (as far as they knew, Thorfinn hadn't seen Barty this morning and couldn't have warned him of their Lord's new orders concerning Potter), the childish Death Eater turned to face the Boy-Who-Lived and embraced him quietly:
“I'm glad you're alright, kid.”
Potter giggled:
“Not a kid but okay. I'm glad you're alright too, kid.”
“Oh Merlin, don't call me that - this is so weird.”
They were both smiling and giggling like small kids. Then Barty's question actually registered in some people's minds and they choked on air:
“Malfoy!? That toad is Lucius Malfoy!?”
Potter snickered.
“I told you he was annoying me, asking question after question despite the fact that Tommy told him to leave me alone.”
Rowan especially looked dazed. Considering the fact that the boy had just called his lord by his muggle name (not even! It was a nickname coming from his birth name – that was worse! Voldemort hated being referred to by his muggle name). He was the only one who knew who the boy was talking about when he said “Tommy” though the most intelligent ones would probably work it out pretty quickly. See, Antonin Dolohov seemed to have connected the dots.
Thorfinn's cheeks flushed even more (Barty didn't think it was possible) when Harry wiggled a bit, trying to find a more comfortable position.
“Please stop moving around,” he heard Thorfinn almost beg.
Harry giggled in response but eventually obeyed.
“What, hum... What are you eating?” Evan Rosier finally asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.
“Cereal.”
Cereal, uh. They didn't have that here. Did he seriously apparate here with his bowl of cereal? Or did the House-elves make them (find them?)? Did they even know where to find cereals?
As Rosier was silently losing his mind over the matter of cereal, the lady of the House, Narcissa finally entered the room, a white ferret hanging around her neck like a particularly clingy scarf.
“Narcissa,” Rodolphus greeted his sister-in-law before blinking at the beast perched on her shoulder. “I, uh, I had no idea you had a ferret. Why?”
Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow and gestured toward Potter.
“You should ask Heir Potter. I must thank you, Hadrian. I love it.”
Harry blinked. He had no idea why all those people insisted to call him “Hadrian” when he was pretty sure that, in this timeline, he had been born Harry not Hadrian, but oh well.
“You're welcome, Lady Narcissa.”
Then, seeing that he had the attention of more than half of the table, he shrugged:
“Draco was with his father when the miracle happened. And he was louder than his father in his disapproval.”
“Miracle? You mean... Lucius being transformed into a toad? Aren't you the one who jinxed him though?”
Harry gave Mulciber an innocent look.
“I'd never. It must have been accidental magic. I'm very prone to those.”
Nobody was fooled but that might have been because Harry was not truly trying to manipulate them.
Rodolphus looked back at the trembling ferret.
“So that's... my nephew, isn't it?”
“I guess so.”
Rabastan snickered.
“At least he's not whining anymore.”
The white ferret gave the younger Lestrange a betrayed look that Rabastan missed because he was too busy ogling at the Potter boy.
Alecto ended up being the one to break the content silence:
“Where is Bellatrix? Not that I want to see listen to her lose her mind but she's usually up at this time.”
Thorfinn was staring a hole in the back of Harry's head but the young wizard only hummed under his breath while enjoying his cup of vanilla coffee.
It was Zelendir Nott (who was just entering the dining room, accompanied by their Lord) who answered that question:
“She's in the hospital wing.”
“What? Why?”
“She tried to curse this young sir,” Nott replied with amusement while gesturing toward Harry.
The young wizard in question ignored the blatant staring and continued to put butter on a toast.
“She should have known better.”
It was Avery who asked the question:
“My Lord, if I may ask...”
He waited until the Dark Lord nodded to continue:
“How come... Why is... Why is Harry Potter eating cereal in our dining room?”
That seemed like an adequate question. He was also pretty sure he wouldn't get crucioed for that. Their Lord had slowly been gaining his sanity back ever since his revival last year. It had been more and more noticeable in those past few months.
“He slapped me -”
“What!?”
“Let me finish! As I was saying... He slapped me awake with a non-aggression contract this morning. I don't know how he got past the wards or how he managed to enter my bedroom without waking me up but when I opened my eyes... He was perched up on my bed, watching over me like a creepy gargoyle.”
Rosier snorted before he could stop himself and he had to slap a hand over his mouth to stop from cackling.
Billius Mulciber gave Harry a gobsmacked look on his face:
“Why would you do that? I mean... I'm glad. I'm not a fan of killing kids – no offence, my Lord!” he added quickly with a look toward his Master, “but... Why?”
Potter raised his face to look at him.
“Hum... that's a tricky question. I guess... I grew bored.”
Of all the answers possible, that was not what they were expecting.
“Bored?”
“Yes,” Potter replies with a nonchalant tone. “There's only so many times you can be reborn as the same person without growing bored. That and Dumbledore seem to be much more manipulative this time around than he was the first time. I thought I'd give a hand.”
Tommy (Voldemort tried to not roll his eyes too hard when Potter called him that through their shared connexion) snorted:
“That and you want to steal my minion.”
Harry frowned.
“I do not. I only asked Thorfinn if he didn't mind helping me with a ritual.”
“A ritual involving Sex Magic,” Tom clarified.
Choking sounds followed his statement.
Ignoring everyone around him but Tom, Harry scrunched up his nose:
“Well, yes. I wasn't about to ask for your help with that.”
“Why not?” Voldemort asked.
Not that he wanted to but he was curious to know why.
“I'm closer to your age than most of my minio – my Death Eaters,” he added on a second thought.
Potter should stop calling his Death Eaters “minions”, he was a bad influence on him.
“Wha – What?” Rosier started but Potter cut him off.
“I mean, it's all a matter of views. I might be technically older than anyone in this room but Time is a relative thing. And even then while I might be older, I was frozen at the age of seventeen (“But you're sixteen,” Avery mumbled, confused.). My mind and body were both frozen at that age so if we're going by technicality... They're closer to my age than you are.”
His explanation managed to confuse most people but those who understood – mainly Antonin, Augustus and Thorfinn, nodded along.
“Wait up... What is this about Sex Magic Rituals?”
Harry put down his spoon and snuggled up against Thorfinn, leaning back against the man.
“Yes.”
Okay so maybe he was enjoying messing with Tommy's minions but it wasn't his fault! He spent too much time with D and their minions.
Then again, he really, really needed to do that ritual and who better than someone compatible with Harry? It helped that Harry was a little bit smitten with the guy.
Seeing Tommy grimace, Harry tilted his head to the side. Oops, seemed like some of his emotions had leaked to Tommy's side of the connexion.
“My bad, sorry,” he told the Dark Lord, to the general confusion.
Tommy only nodded. Good, it wouldn't do good (for Tommy) if the man tried to curse him.
Jugson leaned forward to reach Nott and Crouch Jr:
“Is no one gonna question the Sex Magic thing?”
Zelendir Nott shook his head.
“Nah,” Barty said quietly. “If Harry wanted to expend on it, he would have already done so.”
At that, Logan Avery gave him a look:
“You seem to know Potter quite well.”
Barty threw him a shrewd look:
“Who do you think helped me escape Hogwarts after our Lord's revival?”
It took his little listeners a couple of seconds before they came to an understanding.
“Wait, really?”
Barty rolled his eyes.
“Honestly. I thought you were smarter than that.”
With that, he turned his face away from them and reported his attention to Harry. The boy had completely tuned the rest of them out and had buried his face into Rowle's neck. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even but Barty was pretty sure that the teen was not sleeping.
Tomm – His lord sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose (because he had a nose now).
Finally, he glanced at Thorfinn and cleared his throat:
“Take P... Hadrian to your room while I arrange for the ritual room.”
Thorfinn nodded with a muttered: “My Lord.”
Then he stood up after carefully wrapping his arms around the boy's back and thighs. He left the room without so much as a goodbye. Barty pouted. Rude.
Then again, if he had been stared at like that by the whole room, he, too, would have wanted to leave as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, Thorfinn walked along the dark corridor with a sleepy wizard hanging to his neck. The boy wasn't asleep, Thorfinn knew that much but he was not talking either.
“Why am I carrying you?” he eventually asked.
His room was on the other side of the corridor.
Harry hummed.
“Because I'm tired and you offered.”
Thorfinn did not in fact offer. He did worse: he just grabbed the teen and carried him off. Then again, it was the brat's fault for sitting in his lap.
The brat in question only giggled and with a hand gesture, the door leading to Thorfinn's bedroom opened, saving him the trouble of doing it himself. He walked forward and the door closed behind them.
When he deposited the boy on his bed, Harry let himself fall on his back. The bed was large and the mattress was comfortable.
Thorfinn had worked all night at the Ministry so a nap wouldn't hurt, he thought as he climbed into bed.
Somehow, he knew that despite the bed's size, he would end up with a teen clinging to him like a koala to its tree.
Well, he was not going to object. He threw off his tie and pulled off his wizard's robes before climbing into bed next to the dark-haired teen.
He had questions. A lot of questions.
He opened his mouth to ask Harry what he meant by “timelines” but then the teen rolled over and both his right arm and right leg ended up on top of Thorfinn, efficiently trapping him.
Thorfinn decided that they could wait. He could have escaped if he wanted to but he liked the physical contact.
It was... It was pretty nice. They should do this more often.
“We should,” Harry mumbled sleepily, burying his face into the Death Eater's neck.
A blush covered the man's face. He hadn't meant to say that out loud.
Oh, well. It wouldn't hurt.