Son of a Lord

Power

Theo grabbed the wand, his knuckles white and trembling, his palms sweating. His hand dropped to the floor like it weighed a ton, and Harry's gaze flicked to Theo's face, pale and damp, the black veins twisting and curling their way up his neck.

"Can you stand?" Harry asked, resting a hand on Theo's shoulder.

The boy's face took on an expression of immense concentration, and he got about two centimetres off the ground before crumpling, breathing hard.

"That's fine," Harry said. "You can cast just as well from the floor."

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Theo asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

The younger boy looked up at Harry, devastatingly innocent, "Isn't dark magic wrong? I don't want to get sent to Azkaban."

Harry sighed, "Dark magic is not wrong. It's a branch of magic that is just as important as light magic, it's just been labelled as 'evil' because some wizards and witches use it for-"

"Killing people?" Theo finished, his voice thin.

Harry let go of his shoulder, "Yes. Among other things." He stood, brushing his pants of any non-existent dirt. "That blood ritual you performed is classified as dark magic. What did it do?"

Theo looked up from his place on the floor, "It saved you?"

Harry smirked, "Correct. Would you rather I have died?"

"No!" Theo exclaimed. "I mean- no. I don't want you to die."

Harry considered the boy. He had the potential for so much. There was a fire that burnt in him that reminded Harry of himself, which was as exhilarating as it was concerning. Without the proper teaching, the fire would burn through him, as it was doing right now. Theo had no use for James and Lily Potter, Voldemort could teach him more, Harry only needed to convince him. Theo needed to make the decision on his own.

"Who do you hate Theo?" Harry asked, walking to the centre of the room.

Theo's eyebrows raised at the sudden question as Harry conjured a wooden dummy , it's face smooth and blank, its limbs awkward and bare.

"Sorry?" Theo asked.

Harry turned to face him, his hands behind his back, "I find that casting at someone you hate makes the experience more enjoyable. So...who do you hate Theo. Which person makes you want to scream every time you see them." He was silent for a moment before smiling a tad, "You can say Voldemort. I don't mind."

Theo shook his head right away, "I don't hate Voldemort."

Oh?

"No?" Harry said, "Why not. You have enough reason."

"I don't though. He's killed people, but... you have as well. And I don't hate you."

"He took me," Harry said, "He- he stole me."

He'd never said it out loud before, and it took everything not to cringe as he did. Harry was not taken. He was liberated, he was lifted up into a position of power, of respect. The only thing that was stolen was his potential for mediocracy.

"He raised you," Theo said, "He didn't hurt you-"

You will kill it right now. Diffindo will do.

"he made you who you are-"

Blood on the white tiles. On the walls.

"and I like who you are-"