"No," Harry muttered, shaking his head disbelievingly. "The Potters…they're all dead. No one survived."
The man's grin disappeared to be replaced by a dubious, rueful stare. "Harry, all pure-blood families are related. Most wizards married through expediency. To continue the idea of uncontaminated blood. It's preposterous! I know. But my family are related to yours. I don't know however distantly, I've never come across a family tree. But I'm pretty sure we're both on it. It doesn't mean that the same blood runs through my veins. I am not a Potter. But a relative, a distant one, but one nonetheless."
"What is your name?" Harry inquired suspiciously. He no longer trusted the friendly impression the man produced.
"Rabastan," he pouted slightly, lowering his gaze as if he was bracing himself. "Lestrange. Rabastan Lestrange." He pushed both his hands deep into his pockets and wavered slightly back and forward nervously.
Harry's mind seemed to jam. He was sure he had heard the name. Pages of books, newspapers and faces of people, flashed before his eyes as he searched his memory for any sign of recognition. Then he landed on an old newspaper he had once come across in Davis' office. The headline boasted Death Eaters. He grabbed his wand from his pocket with rapid fervour.
"Got there, have we?" Rabastan asked rhetorically glancing at the wand pointed at his face. He had stopped rocking and stood still in Harry's dark glare.
"You're a murderer," Harry hissed venomously.
"When I grew up Harry, everybody was. You're parents murdered; your teachers murdered…your friends parents probably murdered. It was a treacherous time and people needed to protect themselves. I can see in your eyes that you only remember my name. Not my deeds," he replied fixedly, his eyes flashing.
"Knowing you're a Death Eater is enough," Harry responded swiftly.
"I am not a Death Eater!" he growled. "That's what they want you to think but I'm not. I swear."
Harry shook his head defiantly. "Why would you be arrested and imprisoned if you weren't?"
"I was only imprisoned for a few years. Until the truth finally revealed itself," he spat ruefully. "That…they didn't print in the papers. Such a travesty to the Ministry that would have been. A spy in the ranks of Lord Voldemort was actually being used by our Ministry!" he declared fiercely with a wave of his arms.
He threw his head back and sighed. "I was a spy for our Ministry. Sent in to infiltrate Voldemort's army. I was young…too young," he pronounced remorsefully. "I refused but I was so convenient. My brother…my stupid idiot of a brother, he was a true Death Eater. They believed that I stood a greater chance of being accepted if I had that connection."
"Well…what happened? Why did they send you to prison if you worked for them?" Harry was completely baffled but couldn't overcome his natural curiosity.
Suddenly Harry heard the sound of footsteps crunching through the glacial snow. Seeing the change in Harry's expression, Rabastan stepped forward, seemingly fearlessly, and lowered Harry's wand. "I will tell you the entire story, but first we have to get off the streets while you're being looked for."
"They're not looking for me," Harry whispered defensively.
"Two people fell through that window and only one lies dead at the bottom," Rabastan answered promptly. Harry looked deeply into the fervour of the man's intense eyes and then released his grip slightly. With a shove, Rabastan guided Harry around a shadowed corner into an adjacent street just as a team of Magical Law Enforcement officers crept into the last one. Harry followed as Rabastan took a series of alleys and lanes, his anxiousness deepening. His hand twitched around his wand and increasing his grip he prepared to higher it once more.
Then Rabastan veered right and climbed a wooden staircase until he reached a door. He ushered Harry inside then went immediately to a window which faced the street which lay in white stillness below them. He pulled the curtains closed in two quick movements, then parted the middle and peered down.
Meanwhile Harry inspected his surroundings. It was a single dark room that consisted of a compact bed in one corner, a dusty fridge, a small rosewood cabinet and a round table that occupied most of the space. The table was scattered with papers and in the centre was a vial of ink and a feathered quill. A desolate chair had been flung back from the table as if he had exited it hurriedly.
"They lost their faith, Harry," Rabastan explained. "The Ministry made many bad decisions during the war. And that was before Fudge," he laughed. "During that time it was becoming more apparent that people shouldn't be trusted. Those who could be corrupted were corrupted. Anyway…the Ministry were too slow when it came to intercepting Voldemort's attacks. So they decided they needed someone on the inside." A cold silence fell in the relative emptiness of the flat. Harry could make out Rabastan's motionless outline as he drifted into his memories.
Harry waited patiently for Rabastan to continue. He remained clutching his wand but not as firmly. Then Rabastan continued, his voice lower than before. "I wasn't the only one they sent. There was another. My friend, my cousin, Regulus. He became fixated by Voldemort, so much so that he finally changed sides. When the Ministry discovered this, they thought I had too. I lost all communication with them. I thought it was too late…to escape. Regulus saw so much, too much. He became tormented, haunted by what he witnessed. He tried to back out but he was murdered. When Voldemort vanished, the Death Eaters, they went insane. Most ran, some looked for Him."
He was now fidgeting with the long curtains; his eyes fixed but glazed over. "Two well known Aurors were tortured for the whereabouts of Voldemort. The Ministry were sickened by what they saw and arrested the entire group. Unfortunately I was known to have taken company with the named Death Eaters. Believing I was there and that I didn't prevent it, they didn't listen to my argument or defence. I was sentenced to life in Azkaban. I still insisted I was not guilty. That I wasn't even there at the time."
"Finally, the Ministry found documents containing information on the `mission'. They also found letters that proved I had tried to correspond with the Ministry. I was released but because of the nature of the situation…they decided to keep the whole ordeal a secret. I was a free man, with a tainted name and a tainted future."
"I've been `free' for about three years," he said sardonically. "I was completely lost at first. I had nowhere to live, no money, no one and no life. I quickly tried to find out about you. You meant so much to me before I left. The night … when the Aurors were tortured…I had gone to see you. You had been taken to a muggle home. I stood in the garden for almost five hours, waiting for something. I thought," he laughed, feeling foolish "that something would happen. That they'd just walk out the door with you, give you to me and we'd go off and have a life."
Harry's arm now hung limply by his side. He had no reservations anymore. He pitied the man yet he knew the man didn't want his pity. Why had nobody told him?
"Why were they so sure that you had been there?" Harry asked incredulously.
"Because the others, the guilty ones, they were all people I knew closely. My brother was one of them. During my brief period under their control, I realised just how…evil…my brother was. And it truly frightened me. His wife, she was also there. She was twisted, a black widow, with a first husband. Then there was somebody no one expected. My half-brother. I only found out much later in my life we were related."
He shook his head disbelievingly, a manic smile on his face. "My mother, my distorted and bitter mother, had an affair. My father obviously knew, his actions towards me seem…to make sense," he finished in a whisper.
Running a hand through his already tousled hair, he moved into the centre of the flat. "Funny, they used to always say that we looked like each other, Barty and I, under no previous circumstances did I believe we were that closely related," he chuckled.
"Poor Barty," he muttered pacing the wooden floor with silent footsteps. "Not his fault. His father, my father…was an ignorant bastard. I never thought I'd find a friend in him. I guess I didn't know him in the end."
He dropped into the chair and threw his head back to stare at the murky ceiling. Harry thought he looked very out of place, his suit clashing with the grimy flat. He guessed he had been staying her temporally while waiting for something else to come along. But he presumed that nothing would, no one had ever lent this man a hand.
"What about your family? What happened to them?"
"I hated them, Harry. My brother is still rotting away in prison, hopefully it will take him in the end. My mother vanished after the war, probably with some rich wizard. She was never faithful to her husband, that could be the reason she killed him. I should be in therapy for the rest of my life," he laughed with another grin.
"Your parents were sympathetic. Not in a soppy or over-emotional way, they gave me enough to make me feel wanted." He paused and moved his head so he could look Harry straight in the eye. "Your dad was so infuriated when he realised what the Ministry was doing, sending in spies. Your mother told me not to go, to run so I wouldn't be sent but…I thought that it would make me feel stronger, that I'd be doing good for once. I minded you for about two months after you were born, barely ever left your house. Your parents never held my family against me, they trusted people because of their characters, their choices, not their backgrounds."
"Then I went away and only ever got a glimpse of you, through the window of a muggle house. I should have been there, when your parents died. I felt like a traitor when I breathed a sigh of relief hearing you had survived. My entire existence back then was a lie, I couldn't even grieve for those I loved."
"Well that's my story," he pronounced with mock pride. "All I ever heard was that you went to live with muggles."
Harry retold some of his life. For nearly an hour he told of the Dursleys and then the realisation that he was a wizard. He found it easy talking to Rabastan, he barely spoke, just listened intently. Harry scarcely told anybody about his life, but he felt, deep down, that this man deserved to know. The only time he reacted was when Harry informed off his fight with Lord Voldemort. Rabastan instantly fired off questions, he had obviously no doubt about Voldemort survival after the first war.
"You learn a lot of things about yourself in battle. You ascertain some events from your past, why they happened, what their results were? You realise that if you live, you probably won't change your life or your future. Just to be living and breathing is enough. Your special Harry, you know that?"
"No I'm not," Harry deadpanned, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. "My mother sacrificed herself to protect me. Her love is the reason I'm alive, nothing more."
"Nothing more! Harry, that was everything," he cried earnestly. "That was the ultimate thing your mother could do. And when you think about it, it makes complete sense. Especially if you knew your mother. Her and your dad," he said smiling at the fond memory, "they really were a pair. Complemented each other perfectly. He played a practical joke, she scolded him. When his friends visited, she warned him. Without your mother, I honestly don't think your father could survive." He said this light-heartedly but Harry knew he meant it.
"Being in the house was an experience. It was a privilege. They were powerful. Dangerous when crossed. That was the reason Voldemort tried to bring them to his side. But I knew they never would. I feared for them even though I knew how determined they were... At least they died together. At least they didn't have to continue alone," he halted at what he said, "sorry I don't mean it was better that…"
"It's alright. I understand," Harry said with a nod. There was a reflective silence, the only sounds coming from down the street where officers were gathering evidence from the scene. "You should stay here tonight. You'll be caught if you tried to return to the castle," advised Rabastan.
"No, I have to go now," Harry replied getting to his feet. His thoughts immediately went to Hermione and Ron, and how much Hermione would be fretting.
Rabastan got to his feet and grabbed Harry's arm as he turned to leave. "I know a safe way back into the castle. But you have to wait till morning. It's almost two o'clock, wait till at least six and we'll head. Magical Law Enforcement will be gone in at least two hours," he reasoned.
Harry decided to agree with him, he knew more about sneaking around than Harry did. "You can take the bed, I'll take the chair," he said, leaning back on the wooden chair and placing both his feet on the table, crossing his ankles. Harry removed his cloak and lay down on the hard bed. He put one arm under his head and the other lay across his chest. He didn't think he could sleep, not yet anyway. "I'm sorry. For what happened to you. I know it doesn't mean much coming from me, but I'm sure there are people out there who'd feel the same if they knew the truth."
He heard a stir of movement, then a harsh chuckle. "You don't need to apologise Harry. But thank you." For the next few minutes, he told Harry some stories about his parents. Like when his dad nearly dropped him and his mother's hysterical reaction, or his mothers muggle approach to housework, something which his father despised. Harry only came to realise that Rabastan was just out of his teenage years during his `mission'.
For a few minutes Harry drifted in and out of sleep until he heard Rabastan's voice again. "What did you need the Boomslang Skin for?"
"Polyjuice Potion," he replied instantly.
"Why are you brewing it?"
"Something is attacking students. I guess I just want to find out what it is. I want to know the truth."
"Never stop looking for it, Harry. For your parents, for yourself."
It had continued to snow through the night and ice had gathered on the lower steps leading to Rabastan's bed-sit. Striding through the mounds of snow that had suffocated the small alleys they made it to the main street. They were running late after both had fallen asleep in the very early hours of the morning. It was now nearly seven o'clock but they still had plenty of time and it was the weekend.
A few keen shopkeepers were already up, cleaning shop-windows or clearing the snow from their doorsteps. No one even looked their way as they progressed down the street.
"Did they ever release any photographs of you? In the Daily Prophet or warnings?..." Harry enquired. He wondered why the people of Hogsmeade did not react to a supposed Death Eater.
"Yeah, they did. But I've changed a lot. I was merely a kid then. When I was released from Azkaban, I looked terrible. Gaunt, drained, I scared myself when I looked into a mirror. After a well deserved shave and hair-cut, I ended up like this. My hair used to be darker, almost black, but it gradually became lighter until it was brown. One thing that stood out in the Lestrange family was the black hair. My brown hair was a clear indication I wasn't completely a Lestrange."
When they reached the outskirts of the blanketed village, the entrance to Hogwarts looming in the distance, Rabastan got onto his knees and began using his long hands to feel through the snow. Harry watched him apprehensively for a moment before he barked "Ah, here we are!" He dusted the snow off a manhole cover, then hooked his index fingers into the gaps of the cover and lifted it carefully. The noise of the scraping steel was reduced slightly because of the snow.
"This leads you into the underground cave, you know the small harbour where you first arrivre when you come to Hogwarts," he asked. Harry nodded and dropped to his knees. Pressing his palms on either side of the open vault, he lowered himself further into the darkness. He kicked around until he his foot found a ladder rung, then began his descent. Soon Rabastan followed, covering the open hole as he went.
"By the way, Harry. There's water in the tunnel," Rabastan warned as Harry involuntarily gasped as freezing water surrounded his waist. "You get used to it after awhile," Rabastan ensured.
They waded through the tunnel, both using their wands to spread light further into the tunnel. Rabastan started to explain about the tunnel "We're under the lake at the moment. It's pretty awesome when you think about it. I mean think of the people who built this, all those years ago. Why did they build it? As far as I know it isn't used for anything. The water here is from the lake, after hundreds of years of small droplets, this is what you get. But sometimes there isn't any water in the tunnel. It really is interesting."
"Rabastan, why are you whispering?" Harry asked, trying to keep the nervousness and trepidation out of his voice.
"You never know who's listening," he replied mysteriously with a roguish grin. They continued until Rabastan spotted another ladder and stopped. Climbing it he used his elbow to push the cover up and threw it aside. After exiting, he helped Harry out and both stood up straight. Using his wand, Rabastan dried Harry's clothes so he wasn't drenched.
"They should be having breakfast by now," Rabastan muttered looking at his watch. "Just walk in as if nothing unusual has happened," he advised good-humouredly.
"A lot has happened. A lot has changed," Harry said intently. "Thank you for everything. I'm sure we'll meet again."
"As long as I am here then there is a chance we will meet again." He held out his hand and Harry shook it graciously. He felt like he just found another piece in the puzzle that was his past.
"I'll owl you. No matter where you are I'm sure my owl will find you. She's quite amazing really," Harry said with a smile.
"You must not tell anybody whom who don't have complete trust in about meeting me. Remember, my name is still poison," Rabastan cautioned regretfully.
Harry watched forlornly as Rabastan scaled down the ladder again. He shut the cover over the man-hole and then made his way up a steep stone stair that was covered by a sloping ceiling. When he reached the top he listened attentively for any sound, his keen eyes searching for movement. He crept up to the large main doors and slipped inside. Throwing off his cloak so he didn't look suspicious, he hid it behind Gryffindor's large hour glass and walked somewhat innocently into the Great Hall.
There was approximately one hundred students seated around the Great Hall, eating, drinking and talking animatedly. As Harry proceeded down the aisle of the Gryffindor table, appearing tired and beaten but alive nonetheless, Hermione, who was seated miserably in the centre, turned to look at him with a stunned look on her face. He stood beside her, gazing at her astounded expression, before she practically leapt from her seat and threw her arms around his neck. He exhaled faintly returning the hug with as much vigour. "Sorry I'm late," he said timidly.
Hermione still hadn't let go and she moved one of her hands to the back of his head. She pulled away slightly as if to get an improved look at him, moving her hands again so she was framing his face. He grinned sheepishly at her relieved look. She looked exhausted and her face was flushed from earlier tears. Harry breathed a laugh. "Wow, wasn't expecting you to be that worried," he said.
"You obviously haven't seen the Daily Prophet. It said someone was killed in Hogsmeade last night. Harry, where were you?!" she exclaimed taking a step away from him. Harry felt quite cold now her comfort had vanished. "It's an extraordinary story," he replied truthfully.
Ron was seated across the table with an awkward appearance. He shook his head disbelievingly and said "I knew it wasn't you. But you better tell us what really happened."
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"That is…incredible," a stunned Ron said. I can't believe the Ministry would do that. Poor guy, living like that. Can you imagine what it's like…not being able to let anybody know your name?"
"He probably can't let anybody get to know him at all. He must be so lonely," murmured Hermione compassionately.
"Is it really true what he said about all pure-blood wizards being related?" enquired Harry.
"Yeah, my dad said it was almost crucial for a pure blood line to remain in the families. I mean there are so many students out there I'm probably related to, that I've never even spoken to. We're probably distantly related, Harry," he said laughing.
"It's so childish and dim, all this pure-blood rubbish. I mean you expect more from such wealthy almost aristocratic wizards," Hermione hissed angrily.
Harry frowned sympathetically. "I know… It's splitting our world in half."
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Wasn't too long a wait. Hope you enjoyed it. I know I've changed the path for the future but I assure you the main plot will not be altered too much.
Any questions…then ask.
Please review.
Take care,
Radagast
Alright, I have to add something. If you want a good laugh then go to www.youtube.com and search Harry Potter wavs- Betcha Can't Make Just One. It's hilarious. I nearly fell off my chair!!
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