Harry felt a very ominous contraction in his stomach.
Dark eyes gleamed deliberately down on Harry, staring deep into his soul. However, he kept staring back, not blinking, anything to make him believe the lie. He was very aware that the man was much taller than he was, and knew that the man could break him in half like a twig without any problem.
Harry was well aware that there was no one in the vast field- just a few vipers that lived there from small rodents- but Gaunt had just proved to him that he could talk to snakes, too. Harry glanced at his cousin, who was still standing uncomfortably by the gate. However, as soon as Dudley saw Harry looking at him, he turned and walked away.
'Coward,' Harry thought at the slowly disappearing figure of his cousin, before confronting Gaunt again. Still, with no one in sight, the lack of parental controls (or that of a professor) or a peer stirred something up in Harry.
A desire to rebel.
He lifted his head proudly and caught the fiery gaze of Gaunt, who looked at him with an amused look. Before he could say anything, the man stepped forward and grabbed Harry's chin. He turned and tilted Harry's head to get a closer look, inspecting as if Harry were a newly acquired commodity.
"Hmm.." the man hummed thoughtfully. "Bright eyes, strong jawline... good teeth," he muttered, spreading the lips of Harry's mouth with his fingers.
Harry couldn't resist making a biting movement. However, the man did not withdraw his fingers and taunted him by running his fingers over his incisors.
"Ah, and a feisty spirit," Gaunt said with a defiant smile. He let his lips suddenly roam Harry's cheek, then press an innocent kiss on it. "Hmm, and an immense innate power that bears a strange resemblance to my own magical signature- and you're a Parselmouth."
The man held Harry at a distance with outstretched arms and looked at him again critically. "While I don't remember impregnating anyone, it's obvious you're my son."
Gaunt cupped Harry's chin again tenderly and found himself pleased at the sight of the rich, deep Slytherin green of Harry's eyes. "You're mine," he said softly.
Harry cringed, not understanding how the situation could have gotten so out of hand. He pulled his face from the handsome man's warm hands and took a step back. "I'm not a thing you can own," he snapped at him.
Gaunt laughed, showing a row of perfectly white teeth. This boy got better by the minute! He was not a huddled, sniffing good-for-nothing like many of his acquaintances were; no, this kid had a backbone of steel.
"You have said that you are the Heir of Slytherin, as far as I know, I am the current Lord Slytherin, although I prefer to go by the name Gaunt- the name is an almost extinct Pureblood name, yet this name stands out less than that of Slytherin," said Gaunt in his velvety voice.
He then took another step toward Harry and loomed over him menacingly. "You are the Heir of Slytherin, aren't you?" he asked dangerously, his eyes cold.
He shifted a little closer, the muscles in his arms rippling as they brushed against Harry's shoulders. Harry could catch a whiff of his scent, fresh, lemony and so clean, just the way he behaved; meticulous and confident.
"Harry Potter," Gaunt breathed low, dangerously in his ear, his posh accent more pronounced than before.
"Such lies ... such lies coming from such a beautiful mouth," Gaunt spats, his mouth barely a distance from his ear. Harry swallowed an imaginary chunk through his throat, biting his lower lip.
The older man then stepped back to face Harry directly, his eyes shooting fire. "I despise liars, Harry. Are you a liar? Tell me ."
Harry looked steadfastly at the man. "I'm not a liar, at least not to you. I never claimed to be the Heir of Slytherin- you assumed it yourself," Harry said, his tone biting.
"And yet you keep lying to me... Harry Potter," Gaunt began barely more than a whisper, only to mock Harry's last name. "This won't do."
"I- You- What?" Harry stammered confusedly. Harry gaped at him as if he had lost his mind. Gaunt looked at him with satisfaction, his dark eyes gleaming with possessiveness.
"Your last name- Potter ..." said Gaunt, wrinkling his nose as if he smelled something foul.
"You are my Heir," declared Gaunt. "You belong to me. I can feel it, every cell, every fiber... your blood, and your soul, belongs to me. Your magic calls to me, the same way as I hear my own magic sing. And you will not deny me."
Harry blinked and gave Gaunt an incredulous look. He retraced his steps, which he had plotted so precisely. He didn't understand. Everything had gone according to plan; he'd manipulated the locals, just as he'd seen Riddle do with the Hogwarts professors of the 1940s. He had then terrified his tormentors himself, and he did so, again, in the image of Riddle- after all, who could possibly be more dangerous and terrible than a Dark Lord? The only thing he hadn't anticipated was that Dudley was going to talk. After all, his cousin had known for two years that Harry was a wizard and, to his knowledge, had never spoken a word about him in front of his friends. It was a miscalculation on Harry's part, a side effect he hadn't dared dream of.
Dudley's fear had brought Harry more good than harm. Secretly Harry had been proud to be called the Heir of Slytherin, after all, it was a name of grandeur and times long gone, but a name that frightened even Muggles. After all, Dudley's friends hadn't known what kind of powers Harry really possessed, but they had learned about the existence of curses through their knowledge from movies and angsty teenage books. The fact that they thought they saw Harry speaking to a snake was enough to make the connection. Harry himself, in the presence of his aunt and uncle, had seen the film The Awakening and had seen for himself how the film dealt with old curses that resulted in stillbirths, freak accidents that ended in tragic deaths, and the madness of the evil antagonist with their lust for power. Dudley's friends had apparently watched the same movie and saw in Harry the evil villain.
Somehow the title "Heir of Slytherin" had started to wander through Little Whinging, until it was heard all over Surrey. Harry never thought anyone would find out what lies he had told his cousin for personal gain. Of course, if he could do it all over again, he would do the same, if only for two weeks of absolute rest. The last two weeks had been heavenly and Harry would do anything to maintain the current status quo.
Gaunt looked at him again critically. "This won't do." He repeated again, with a disgusted expression on his face.
"I didn't ask you for your opinion either," Harry snapped at the man, looking at his current clothes. He looked tidier than ever before and was mortified by Gaunt's constant scrutiny.
"I'm not yours and never will be," he snapped at the tall man. "It was a mistake looking for me, but let me rectify that," Harry said, turning his back on Gaunt.
Gaunt, however, grabbed Harry painfully by the shoulder. "Aren't you proud to be mine? To be exalted of those filthy Muggles you should call family? They're lies, Harry. There is no other way, no worthy wizard would leave a child with magical blood with Muggles."
"I don't know you," Harry snarled at Gaunt. "I don't have any parents anymore, they were killed by the real Heir of Slytherin," Harry continued, regardless of who he was talking to. "Because of Voldemort I have no family anymore - because of him I have to live with my Muggle family."
Harry gave Gaunt a venomous look. "We don't know each other and yet you claim that I belong to you as your prized possession. And you know what? That won't do, at all ."
Gaunt looked at him darkly, cold and calculating. "You can mourn all you like, child, but don't waste the opportunity to be my Heir. Lord Voldemort may have killed your family, but he wasn't the one who left you with your aunt and uncle. If he had been given the choice, you would have been placed with a neat Pureblood family who had raised you with the values of Magical Society. He would have done you more good than your current Magical Guardian has bested you."
Harry stiffened as if he'd been hit. "Fuck. You," he hissed, almost falling into Parseltongue.
Gaunt's nostrils quivered in distaste, but a winning smile quickly graced his face. "So my heir lacks the impeccable Pureblood manners that should have been instilled in him. It doesn't matter," Gaunt said, ignoring Harry's outburst. "I'll teach you etiquette myself, but also Magic- both Dark Magic and Parselmagic. No Heir of mine will speak like a plebeian, or worse, act without proper instruction."
Harry pressed his teeth together so hard he was almost afraid he would break them. However, his reaction seemed to please Gaunt. He pulled out an old-fashioned pocket watch and looked at it.
"Unfortunately it's too late in the day to go to Gringotts, the streets of Diagon Alley will now be taken over by ill-mannered brutes," Gaunt said with a pained face. "I can already see the families; a mother yelling at too many children, all of whom are walking around in untidy clothes, loudly complaining that they want a sweet."
Harry had to chuckle at this description, which was spoken with such disgust. It reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, who was occasionally disheveled by the many pranks of Fred, George, but also Ron, who in Harry's opinion often complained too loudly about food.
"Ah, I see we have something in common, Harry," Gaunt said with satisfaction. "So let's avoid the crowds and go to Gringotts in the morning- it will be the first stop, anyway."
"We have nothing in common," Harry muttered, his facial expression quickly changing from amused to annoyed.
Gaunt hummed carelessly and for a moment seemed unresponsive to Harry. "I will convert you, Harry, before the end of summer you will return to school with disappointment, wishing you could stay with me."
Harry snorted loudly. "I'm taking the challenge with both hands, no one could stop me from going to Hogwarts. I love that school, it's just ridiculous to think I'd rather stay with you."
Gaunt bared his teeth. "It's no challenge, little brat. It's a promise."
Gaunt, meanwhile, was walking with Harry toward the drab residential area, where the houses almost looked identical. He looked in horror at the soulless houses, with the perfect front yards and the housewives who looked after him almost salivating. He glanced at Harry again and then looked at him questioningly.
"How old are you, actually? You talked about Hogwarts, but you don't seem old enough to go there. What are you... ten?"
Harry stopped walking, looking insulted and angry. "Almost thirteen."
"Hmm," Gaunt said, walking on.
Harry gave him a prickly look. "Hmm?! Is that all you have to say?"
Gaunt shrugged, bored. "Children are all like dwarfs to me. Trust me, Harry, it's nothing personal."
Shaking his head and stamping, Harry walked beside the older man. He couldn't believe it, ten years? Did he really look like a ten-year-old boy? He had been through so much, but was that the perception of the world they had of him? He kicked a stone angrily, not caring that he now looked like a ten-year-old.
"I've been starving for years, it wasn't until I got to Hogwarts that I was able to eat normally," he said, sulking. He looked up at Gaunt's face, hoping he would feel something about his statement. When this didn't come, he growled. "How old are you?"
The man seemed to ponder this question for a moment. "Twenty-seven," he replied.
Harry nodded, "So you've finished your education at Hogwarts for about ten years."
Gaunt shook his head briefly and looked amused at Harry. "It feels like a lifetime ago." His eyes gleamed and sparkled with humor. "You could say that I have done everything in my life and through that of others to be here. Nevertheless, performance never comes without sacrifice."
Harry nodded, remembering the struggles that- always seemed to play out at the end of his school year- he'd been through during his time at Hogwarts. He had to reluctantly agree with Gaunt; without certain sacrifices, he would never have survived those trials.
"Did you specialize in anything after that?"
"I am a Lord, I specialize in everything."
Harry rolled his eyes at that and looked up in irritation, looking at the smug expression on Gaunt's face. "Oh, okay..." he muttered, looking around.
"Any aspirations in life?" he asked bored.
Gaunt looked scornfully at him again. "World domination, of course."
Harry raised a dark eyebrow.
"And raising pathetic orphans, who are in desperate need of an eye correction," Gaunt added at the time, half mockingly.
Harry sighed and angrily put his hands in his pockets. The pair walked the rest of the way to Harry's house- or his aunt's and uncle's- silently side by side. Harry had no idea how to handle the situation. The man, Marvolo Gaunt, seemed eager to- what exactly? To adopt him?
Harry looked at Gaunt as they walked down the street to the Privet Drive. "What are your intentions with me?"
Gaunt ran his eyes over Harry, a possessive glint in them. "I want to see if I can get control of you tomorrow. At the very least, I want to become your Magical Guardian, as your current 'mentor' doesn't deserve the title... To stay with Muggles, starve to death, not get a bedroom of his own, and no worthy wardrobe... It's unworthy of the Heir of Slytherin."
He looked at Harry with a strange look that seemed to promise dark, dangerous things. "It's unworthy of you, Harry."
Harry was dumbfounded and gaped at Gaunt. He walked silently next to the man until they arrived at 4 Privet Drive. He paused hesitantly, looking uncertainly at Gaunt. The man himself didn't seem to notice; he was busy looking condescendingly at the house, taking in everything from the old-fashioned floral lace curtains to the front door that seemed wider than usual.
"Charming," he said sarcastically, gesturing toward the house. He looked around again and noted the front yard. "At least the garden is properly maintained, a little boring, but not everyone is blessed with creative insight."
Harry blushed when he heard his praises. "Thanks, I'm the one who keeps the garden."
Gaunt's mouth twisted into a narrow line again. "I'm adding 'being a house elf' to the list," he said darkly.
Swallowing his discomfort, he took a step toward the door. "Um... then I'll see you tomorrow?" he asked uncertainly.
Gaunt straightened and looked pleased with Harry. "Indeed, expect me around nine o'clock in the morning. Then we'll have plenty of time to have tea with your... caretakers," he said as if it were something distasteful.
Harry's eyes widened and he looked at the door in a panic, as if his aunt and uncle could rush out at any moment and rant against Gaunt.
"Um- I- That is," Harry stammered, looking down at his feet.
Gaunt suddenly took swift steps toward Harry, placing one hand on top of his shoulder, fingers resting on his collarbone, and resting the other hand against his lower back. A firm tug and push caused Harry's entire stature to straighten. Gaunt nodded in satisfaction and cupped Harry's chin and tilted his face so that Harry looked straight into his eyes.
"Better," said Gaunt, looking pleased at Harry. "You were saying- and before you start muttering again; only Mudbloods and half-wits murmur, you are neither."
Harry gave Gaunt a hard look, that was immediately greeted with an amused look around Gaunt's mouth. "Is it necessary to talk to my aunt and uncle?"
Gaunt nodded. "Yes, but don't worry, I don't have high expectations for their behavior. As long as you function properly."
Harry nodded meekly, forgetting the Mudblood comment.
Gaunt tapped his heel against his other shoe and tightened himself even more. "Great, that's agreed then. I'll see you tomorrow, Harry."
Harry opened his mouth to say goodbye but was too late, the man had disappeared with a soft pop, leaving Harry alone at his front door. Harry looked for a while at where Gaunt had stood, half wondering if he'd imagined the whole thing.
"Harry!" Aunt Petunia hissed at him in a biting tone. "Don't stand like that, what will the neighbors think!"
Harry nodded and walked quickly to the front door to enter. As he closed the door, he thought of tomorrow and what awaited him. He didn't think about the fact that Gaunt had managed to name exactly what he'd previously thought as the reason for calling himself Heir Slytherin. That wasn't important at all, he had to survive tomorrow first.