Much Deadlier Tournament: Chapte 19

Chapter 19:

Unexpected Gifts

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Harry was laying down on the cold wood overlooking through the clock window out on the grounds. He wanted to be lost in thought thinking of what he saw in his latest vision of Voldemort's return to the flesh. He had written his account down and handed it to Dumbledore and was waiting to be called on by the old man to brainstorm. He hated waiting, but Sue was making it easier.

"I'm not a cat, you know." Harry feigned a complaint.

"No, if you were a cat you would have clawed open my hands and wrists for petting you by now." Sue retorted in her usual acerbic manner as she continued to stroke his hair.

Her thighs made a nice pillow to relax on, if he did say so himself. He could get used to it.

Another owl flew into the clock tower to perch on one of the many railings. It was amazing that the castle wasn't even draftier than it was with every single section of it being designed with owls in mind, all of those little open windows in or near the ceiling made winters unbearable.

"It's starting to get a little crowded in here, don't you think." Sue noted, looking to a railing on their right.

Harry followed her gaze and, indeed, Tulip and a few other owls sat perched looking at them regally. Malthazor, the great black barn owl and his two little grey girlfriends were huddled in the nook of a window behind them.

"Well yeah, the clock tower is where these ones like to hang out." Harry told her, turning back to look up at her.

She looked him pointedly in the eye, before turning to point at his left with that same look. Harry followed his gaze and blinked at the sight of a black rat with red eyes casually standing near the wall, sniffing the air.

"Yeah, welcome to Hogwarts. Rats everywhere. Probably a student's." Harry told her.

"And you don't find it the least bit odd that she is standing in the open in a large room filled with owls?" Sue asked in a dead tone. "Nor that it is pointedly watching you?"

Harry looked back at the rat, then over to Tulips gang on his right.

"Like I said, she probably belongs to a student. Used to owls. Ditto for the owls. Well fed, familiar with pet rats. They know how to be good." Harry deflected again.

"And it staring at you expectantly?" Sue asked.

"Oh, I'm friendly with most people's pets. I usually keep treats for everyone on hand. but they tend to like me regardless." Harry explained, hopefully for the last so he could go back to relaxing.

"And you don't find every animal in the castle liking you strange either?"

Harry sighed. She didn't usually annoy him, in fact this was the first time she ever did so, and that she seemed to be doing it intentionally increased his ire with the normally quiet and crazy girl.

"What are you trying to get at?" Harry finally asked.

"It is abnormal for a person to have such an affinity to so many animals. It is one of many bizarre things you casually do as if it's something as normal and uninteresting as sneezing." Susan said in what may have been her monotone version of a grumble.

It almost sounded like envy, especially after her complaint that cats would attack her when she tried to pet them, which was something wholly foreign to Harry. The only animals he'd ever had trouble with were Ripper, who was specifically trained to be a cunt, and magical beasts like the Basilisk who, like Ripper, was trained to be murderous. Oh, and the blast ended screwts and Acromantula, but the former were babies and the latter were sentient, more like people than animal. Oh wait, then there was Fluffy, and did Remus count as an animal while transformed? That seemed somehow demeaning to the poor man, so he'd have to go with yes on that. Gnomes didn't seem to like him either, and he DID kill a dragon.

Actually? For the most part, fuck magical creatures. Besides hippogriffs they all kind of sucked.

"How abnormal?" Harry asked when his train of thought came to an end.

"Harry Potter abnormal." She told him with that barely noticeable smirk she had.

"Oh, bizarre enough to earn that label, is it?" Harry asked with his far too large grin to contrast her own.

"Indeed." she deadpanned before leaning in for a kiss.

When she retreated they returned to their comfortable silence. He considered breaking that silence by pretending to purr at her stroking, but knew he wouldn't get a laugh out of her.

"Do you know what a Beast Master is?" Sue broke the silence a minute later.

Harry had to suppress a groan.

"Of course I do, they keep writing me asking me to join their organization." Harry grumbled.

"No, not that type of beast master." Sue sighed.

"You know, if you really want privacy Dumbledore is setting me up a private guest room as a foreign champion?" Harry offered. "I could move in a day early if you want to help me decorate?

He resisted the urge to wriggle his eyebrows suggestively. Sue was more subtle than that, if you spelled subtle with fireworks and a sledgehammer while fanfare blazed in the background. Jokes aside, he ought to be subtle with her as well.

"That sounds lovely, but not this week. Cramps and all that, but I should be free for some privacy with you when you are done at the Yule Ball. Beside, you have some reading to do." She told him.

"I do?" he asked.

"You do." She said.

She then patted him on the shoulder for him to sit up and he did so. She then stood up, stretched out, and shook her legs. He hadn't considered that sitting on her knees like that on the cold stone might have been a bit uncomfortable for her, made moreso by his fat head laying on those thighs.

"I will be going now. I can tell you wish to be alone now, despite your best efforts to hide it. And I have some letters to write to family." She told him before turning heel and walking away.

Harry neither denied the accusation nor tried to convince her to stay. She was right, after all. When his thoughts were this dark he preferred to be alone with them. And so he watched her leave, lounged out on the stone floor, until the nearest door closed behind her.

As soon as she was gone Tulip flew over to him and stood next to his head on the ground.

"Hoot." Tulip said with a head bob.

"You said it, not me." Harry said back.

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Tonks sat, shell-shocked at the end of the dining room table directly across from Lord Voldemort himself.

Thankfully, said table was well over ten meters long but even with the bright, warm lights illuminating the dining room and the cheerfulness of everybody else seated around said table, she was still completely frozen in place. She did still jump when the door to the kitchen slammed open and her silver-haired uncle stormed in wearing a white apron and hair net and carrying a massive steel pot.

"Ladies and gentleman - and I use both words very sarcastically - I present to you, a piping hot pot of French onion soup fresh from the stove." Lucius Malfoy announced as he brought said pot to the center of the table and put it down. "The mashed potatoes, giblet gravy and rosemary bread will be out shortly. Wormtail is finishing them up."

"Woot! Woot! woot!" The many werewolves, back from slaughtering her colleagues, cheered as they banged their fists on the table.

Lord Voldemort could clean them up and transfigure their clothes into something suited for a five course meal, but he couldn't impart on the two dozen men and women the corresponding manners. That or he didn't care to, and based on how even after two hours since rising out of that cauldron he was still staring at his reflection in the hand mirror he'd conjured and caressing his face like a long-lost lover, this was probably the case. She couldn't blame him for doing so, she hadn't stopped staring at his handsome, er, rejuvenated face this whole time either.

"Now everyone, show some table manners." Voldemort finally interrupted, sweeping his thick, black hair back and shivering at the sensation. "And pass your bowls clockwise to be served."

They all did so, except Tonks who took an elbow to the ribs from the redhead woman who she recalled was a rare wereboar, before she got with the program.

She passed her plate down to her right. She moved a little too quickly and irritated her bandaged arm where Lucius had cut her open for some blood, but hid the wince as best she could.

"Oh yes, I do apologize for that young Nymphadora." Voldemort told her from his seat. "Wounds obtained ruing dark rituals usually have to be healed the long way, but we were all so starving after the whole ordeal I couldn't let you go to your quarters without a proper meal, and the same for my faithful servants."

Tonks delved deeper into her despair at the news that he fully intended to keep her alive, and that she was being given private quarters. Her imagination took her to all sorts of places when she tried to think of what use he would have for a living, female prisoner in a comfortable bedroom in a mansion full of feral werewolves, mostly male ones.

"What are you going to do with me?" She demanded as her bowl of French onion soup finally came back around to her.

She had somehow, automatically, complied with the dance of passing bowls down until it had come to a complete end.

"Well, I am going to feed you, water you, provide you with a well-stocked lavatory so you might enjoy a long hot bath, allow you a full night of rest and release you into the wild tomorrow when we are all ready to move on our own ways." Voldemort explained. "In so many words, treat you as the most gracious guest you are."

Tonks stared at him, directly into his gorgeous chocolate eyes, erm, hateful orbs and her disbelief must have shone on her face because he elaborated.

"You are a guest her Miss Tonks. And as you have brought me back to flesh, stronger than I ever was before, You shall be treated with the utmost courtesy and kindness. No harm will befall you while you are under my care, I swear it on my life." Voldemort told her. "So long as you comply and don't cause any problems until you are freed, of course."

"You're just going to... let me go?" Tonks asked, still disbelieving as the rest of the table besides them ate their soup like rabid animals.

"Of course! Whyever would I not? You are the daughter of Andromeda Black and inheritor of such a rare gift and are so young. Your future is too bright and unwritten to close now. Even if you think yourself an enemy of mine." Voldemort told her with an easing smile. No! Not easing! Off-putting and terrifying! Yeah. Stupid sexy Dark Lords.

The man named Wormtail chose that moment to enter through the same door Lucius had a minute before, pushing an entire metal cart of bread, potatoes and garnishing. Sour cream, butter, chives, bacon bits, black pepper, crushed garlic, ground chili peppers and more covered every inch of the top layer of the cart, with the basket of steaming hot potatoes in the one beneath it.

"Alright, who wants a slice of rosemary bread?" Wormtail demanded, lifting his wand,

Every hand went up, including Tonks and Voldemort.

"Rightio, and my Lord wants the crunchy end pieces, yes?" Womrtail clarified.

"You know me too well, Wormtail." Voldemort answered with a smile.

Wormtail tapped the freshly baked loaf once with his wand and it split into no fewer than thirty even pieces with fresh steam coming out of the cuts in a single puff of hot air. With another wave of said wand each piece flew into the air and flew to everybody's individual plates in a masterful display of the banishing charm.

"Alright, and how do you want your baked potato... hmmmm, Tonks?!" Wormtaill went on, lifting one of said potatoes onto a platter for her.

"Oh, um... sour cream and chives?" She asked hesitantly. "With just a little bit of chili powder before the sour cream."

"You got it kiddo!" Wormtail said cheerfully.

He slapped together the last part of her meal and levitated it over to her. He send a plain baked potato over to Voldemort, somehow knowing that's how the dark lord liked it, and the man at the head of the table finally dug into his meal. Apparently he had been waiting for it to be fully served before eating. Tonks would just roll with the idea that she had been showing the same etiquette.

She spooned the first bite of soup into her mouth and made a lady like sound of surprise. It was very good. With a mansion full of house-elves, where had uncle Lucy learned to cook?

She looked up to ask him but found he had disappeared from the dining room. She shrugged, assuming he was preparing their dessert, and went back to her meal. She paced herself, sampling all three of the hearty, but simple and stomach-friendly, foods in a cyclic order. Soup, bread, potato, repeat. By the time she was finished, so too was the rest of the table, and Voldemort was looking at her expectantly.

She shyly wiped her mouth with the napkin, and sat up straight.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord V..v v." She tried to say.

"It's okay. Take your time." Voldemort said kindly.

"Voldemort?" She finished questioningly.

"You are most welcome, Lady Tonks. Do you have any questions for me? It's been nearly a decade and a half since I've had dinner with a charming young lady and I want you to feel at ease."

The redhead next to her scoffed and pretended to look offended.

"You aint no lady, Barbara." Fenrir practically snarled at her, but seemingly in good humor.

Barbara smirked and blushed simultaneously as she retreated into herself at the joke at her expense.

"Well, I would like to know why you're sparing me?" Tonks asked.

"Careful kid, that horse might bite you." Wormtail warned from where he was finally starting to eat himself.

"It's fine, Wormtail. It's an understandable concern." Voldemort dismissed Wormtail's warning.

"I already told you the truth, child." Voldemort said with his arms outstretched in a sign of surrender. "I never meant you any ill will and wish for your bloodline to continue. I feel I owe you a great deal for being a part of my resurrection, unwilling though your participation may have been."

Tonks still wasn't buying it.

"And you're not at all concerned about me telling everybody about your return, or how you now have my abilities?" Tonks clarified.

Voldemort laughed, a hearty, warm laugh from his chest.

"The world is already fully aware of my rebirth, young Nymphadora." Voldemort told her. "And besides..."

Tonks watched in horror as Voldemort's hair turned the same lime green as hers and his stature reduced. As he shrank to match her height and freckles appeared on his face in a perfect mirror of her own Tonks knew that in the short two hours since he has been a metamoprmagi, he had already gained enough master over it to be a threat. And hen he next spoke it was with her face and her voice.

"Why wouldn't I want the entirety of the wizarding world to know that Lord Voldemort know had the absolute power to walk among them disguised as any of their loved ones at any time? I can barely think of a greater psychological weapon than you sharing this wonderful news." He finished.

Tonks felt her face and hair changing in disgust and horror at the display, and jumped in her seat again when Lucius re-entered the dining room and the lights cut out.

A soft orange glow came from where she had last seen Lucius, and when he spoke it was to sing.

"Haaaaapppy re-birth day too youuuuu." Lucius sang as he brought the birthday cake around.

The pack of werewolves caught on and began singing along as Tonks watched in disturbed fascination.

"Haaaaapppy re-birth day too youuuuu." They all sang together as the lights came back on to reveal Voldemort conducting the song with his hands and smiling brightly, still in her form. "Happy re-biiiirthday dear Voldemort. Happy re-birthday toooo youuuuuu!"

The song finished just as Lucius placed the cake down at the center of the table. From her vantage point she could see the single candle on the cake was of the number zero, and standing up she could read the words written in blue icing.

Congratulations!

It's a boy.

Even she couldn't stop the snort of amusement at the choice in cake. Dark, though their humor may have been, they were all still utter clowns. During the singing Voldemort had slowly reverted back into his normal form, tall and handsome with dark hair and eyes.

"Well, if you're all in a singing mood, would you take a song request?" Voldemort asked.

The werwolves and two Death Eaters all shrugged but nodded and Voldemort cleared his throat.

"Hoggy. Warty... Hogwarrrrrts!" Voldemort began in a baritone.

"Hogwarts! Hogwarts! Hoggy warty Hogwarts!" The table sang as one, punctuating each word by banging their fists on the table. "Teach us something, please!"

Tonks groaned and rugged her temples in annoyance at the coming headache.

"Whether we be old and bald, or young with scabby knees!"

For the love of god! Just put her in a werewolf rape dungeon any day instead of this torture. Please!

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Let it not be said that Harry Potter could not take a hint, because he had hit the bullseye when trying to parse the vague bullshit Sue had left him with in the clocktower earlier that day by hitting the library. Using Sermo Revalio on as many books as he could get away with had taken hours but he eventually found a reference to the other type of beast master Sue had been talking about

Unlike parselmouths, beast masters cannot have direct conversations with all non-magical animals, but they can befriend them and talk to them as they would people. A beast master's ability to command animals is directly reliant on his own charisma and likeability and cannot force animals to do things they do not want to do."

He reread the text as he walked, and as he did so he recalled how in his second year he had been so shocked to learn that talking to snakes was not, in fact, a normal ability to have. Sue had been spot on when she'd said he just casually does impossible or very bizarre as if it was routine. Sure would be nice if Hogwarts gave Muggleborns or muggle-raised primers on wizarding kind, explaining basic terms all witches and wizards grew up hearing but were wholly alien to those from a non-magical background.

He stopped his walk after that thought occurred to him...

What if they did? What if every Muggle-born in the school was already given said primers, and nobody thought to give him one because he was Harry Bloody Potter? Looking back, the only person who knew that he hadn't been taught a single thing about the wizarding world was Hagrid and he tended to be... forgetful. It was completely possible. He would have to ask Hermione the next time he saw her.

When he finally reached his dorm room it was to find it empty, as his roommates were all down having their weekly exploding snaps competition in the common room. He made for his bed, ready to finish packing for his move, when he stopped in his tracks.

There was a suitcase on his bed. A large suitcase with a letter on top, pinned to it's surface by a bright red Christmas bow.

He put the book on "Wizarding inheritance" onto his nightstand and examined the briefcase without touching it. It was clearly dragonhide with gold-plated clasps and combination lock, so whatever it contained was either magical or needed to be protected from magical interference. Could be anything from potions ingredients, which you did NOT want to get contaminated by a wayward spell or from passing through wards, to dark and cursed artifacts that you want to be protected from detection. Knowing Harry's luck it was probably both.

He picked up the envelope and tore it open.

Dear Mister Potter,

Your recent rampage has been an inspiration for some magizoologists, and an insult to others. I happen to fall into both camps, but mostly the former. As such, I have sent you this early Christmas present.

It was my intention to save this for a rainy day; should Voldemort rise to power again and be victorious, it would do to have such a perfect bribe as this. But I believe it better to put it into your hands where it can do good, and provide far more entertainment. May it both serve you well and hopefully cause you as many headaches as you have caused me with your pamphlets.

Happy Christmas,

Newton Artemis Fido Scamander

Harry stared at the letter, then back at the suitcase, then at his calendar. A Christmas present one week early?! One that's dangerous and from famed magizoologist Newt Scamander? Oh, how he hoped it was a pony!

He opened the suitcase and frowned.

Instead of some creepy crawly or baby basilisk he was met with a ladder descending into darkness. He lifted the suitcase to see there was not, in fact, a passage cut into his mattress and floor below leading to the third-years dormitory. Putting it back down on his mattress he recalled the tent at the World Cup and figured this was the same type of magic.

Shrugging, he put the suitcase onto the ground and lowered himself onto the ladder. The suitcase was wide enough for him to get through without even scraping the sides with his shoulders as he descended into the darkness. His eyes adjusted as he reached the bottom and he was once again dissapointed.

He found himself in a small room the size of shed, with all of the walls covered in cabinets and workbenches. Each lined with tools and containers he didn't completely recognize the uses for. The left had several refence books for herbology and poison, while the right had references to potions ingredients and recipes. What a downer, a gift to help him with his two least favorite subjects. If only he could regift it to Neville and Snape, they would love it, but hate working together. Win-Win for him.

He walked through the small space to the similarly small pair of double doors. Hoping against hope there was a large piece of French military equipment on the other side and swung them open, only to gasp at the wide open space it contained.

He found himself in a ballroom of sorts, similar in size and shape to Pamona's single round greenhouse that only she was allowed inside of and that everybody had tried, but failed, to break into.

The entire space was empty, save for a single pillow at the center. The blood-red satin pillow held a blood-red egg the size of the golden one he had retrieve from the Horntail's nest not too long ago.

He approached it cautiously and as he got closer he noted a purple tinge to the egg. He didn't even hesitate to pick it up and hold it to the light to see the little creature inside. And boy did he. Every curve of it's serpentine body and every violet hue of it's many tendrils painted his hands with lovely shades of crimson and violet.

And then it moved.