Title:
While the Lily white shall in love delight
Author:
Vash The Unholy
Beta:
Dark Syaoran
Chapter 05:
If you look straight in my eyes, you still might see a disguise
Summary:
After a mistake, Harry is sent flying through time. Now stuck in a different year, how will Harry continue? AU Sixth Year
Special Thanks to:
Dark Syaoran for helping me flesh out this idea.
Authors Notes:
Harry does a lot of thinking in this chapter. Just because he thinks something doesn't make it true. Let's not review with "OMFG! Dumbledore is not the evil!" I know that. Harry's mind has been twisted, and the dark thoughts amplified as that was his mindset when he entered "The Room."

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Hadrian walked down the stone corridor slowly, the Malfoy scion in the lead. The location Lucius brought him to was a sort of cave. The walls had been transfigured to resemble some sort of marble. Funny, he thought. He was sure Voldemort would have forced one of the Death Eaters in his service to allow him to use their manor. Though, it was probably safer to use a cave as it would have been far harder to find.

Lucius for his part was very agitated. He was stuck with this fool of a boy when he could be elsewhere. He could have been with his father building his circle of influence, or something of that sort. But instead, he was stuck here. Hadrian Mores was far too cheerful to be sane, he thought personally. The ridiculously false smile and bounce in his walk didn't fool him. Granted, only the most intelligent of Slytherins would notice its falsity. The blonde was a fool if he thought it would fool Lord Voldemort.

The center chamber was occupied by a good number of people. Most wore the traditional Death Eater robes, but Hadrian was surprised to find a number of people not wearing them. Lucius was one of those people, but that was because he had traveled straight from the Leaky Cauldron with him. He figured some didn't because they felt themselves too good for such common things, while others might have had their work hindered by such things. He supposed there was some truth to that.

Of all those present, he seemed to find himself focused on two in particular. The man and woman didn't wear masks and stood proud and tall near Voldemort's throne. The held themselves like royalty and dressed similarly. They must have thought very highly of themselves to dress with such finery in a place like this. They were married, he assumed, judging from the fact that they stood side by side with no space between them. An odd thing, he thought, since they seemed genuinely in love with one other. He had always assumed most purebloods didn't marry for love, but maybe he was wrong.

The woman looked to be McGonagalls age, somewhere between fifty and sixty. She was, however, flawlessly beautiful in his opinion. Her bright blew eyes shone with a warm light that showed her age far more than her skin, which was devoid of wrinkles. Once dark ebony hair now lightened to nearly white. The white hair streaked with black gave her a sort of exotic look. She looked like a finely aged wine, clichéd as that sounded.

It was her husband that attracted his attention the most, however. He looked so familiar. And after moments of thought, he realized with a shock why that was so. He looked nearly identical to the man standing behind his father in some of his photos and in the Mirror of Erised. This man was much younger however. Unlike his wife, his black hair was untainted. And while his wife's eyes seemed warm and

Caring, his pale grey eyes were cold and hard. His skin was pale and aged. Hadrian would place him in his sixties if he had to guess.

Voldemort watched the last Mores scion with interest as he surveyed Charlus Potter and his wife, Dorea. His eyes glittered with interest as shock momentarily drifted across the young heir's face. Why ever would he be so shocked? He looked closer at him as if trying to will the boy to reveal his secrets. The looked similar he noticed. Not enough to be direct relatives, he thought, but a great grandchild perhaps. Charlus' looks had been washed of the boy if they had been relatives. Mores also held the same softer, more feminine features he himself once held.

The Dark Lord frowned as the same cheerful mask he worn when he entered returned. Instinctively his hand slid to his wand hidden within his robes. The boy was smart enough to casually have a grip on his wand, which seemed to be hidden in a holster on his leg beneath the robes. He hummed thoughtfully. So the boy might be of some value to him.

"Lucius," The Dark Lord hissed, bringing the attention of those present to him. "Bring him here."

Hadrian gave a half bow, never removing his eyes from Riddle. "Lord Voldemort." His voice was smooth and jovial. He didn't trust himself to use any other tone. He held little doubt that he would ever respect Voldemort.

"You are the Mores Heir Lucius speaks of?" Riddle's voice was quiet and calm, but still held great power behind it. The cavern echoed ever so slightly with his voice. Hadrian didn't like it as it made it seem as if he were surrounded by multiples of him.

"Indeed, I am the one and only, Hadrian Mores. The last of the Mores line, and but one of the forgotten lines of Slytherin."

"One?" Tom questioned, eyebrow raised curiously.

"Yes, I am but one of two. There is another. A girl I believe, still in Hogwarts. I seek her. Such is the reason I've come to you. You have far more resources than I. With your assistance I can get into Hogwarts."

"I see," Riddles reply was a cold drawl.

"And if I might be able to rid the world of a few mudbloods," He shrugged. "Who am I to complain?"

Voldemort took a second to appraise the boy once more. He was very much like a Gryffindor. He wasn't afraid to speak his mind. This could help him, since the other fools surrounding him seemed to think mindlessly blabbering about how great and powerful he was helped in some way. He knew he made mistakes and someone not afraid to tell him he had stuffed up would be a great asset. Glancing at his Death Eaters, he noticed they seemed to expect the boy to be snuffed any second. He wondered if he should for a second or so.

The Dark Lord Hummed thoughtfully before speaking, "What do I have to gain from this… request for assistance?"

Mores looked thoughtful. "Aside from the last of the Slytherin line within your ranks, I'm sure you could use spies in Hogwarts."

"Hmm. How do you intend to get into the school?"

Hadrian frowned. With the proper connections I suspect the Ministry could be a viable possibility. The Board of Governors could swayed with the proper influential people. I hear that the idiotic head of the Department of Magical Transportation is looking for ins into Hogwarts."

"Hmm," Voldemort hummed distastefully. "Yes, Fudge is an ambitious fool, though does have his own ring of influence."

"Indeed, and considering that he is a part of the Board, he has his value, however small it would be. And with the backing of several of those present now, it is almost assured we could sway the vote in our favour for whatever position."

Voldemort stared at him as he thought. "Very well, I shall assist you on two conditions." Hadrian nodded. "You will join the ranks of my Death Eaters…"

"Only on the condition that I not receive the mark," Hadrian said, interrupting the ebon haired lord.

"OH?" Voldemort questioned.

"It would be nothing but a hindrance. Surely it would only reveal me to Dumbledore."

Voldemort grunted. "Yes, I can see the wisdom of that. For the continuation of your good health, however, I suggest you never interrupt me again."

"Of course not, your lordliness," Hadrian apologized with a small bow. "Your second condition?"

Voldemort hissed an angry growl before answering. "You will accompany one of my servants to deal with a …problem."

"Problem, my lord?" The words tasted foul in his mouth, but Hadrian knew it was necessary for him to keep his appearance.

"It will ne explained upon your arrival. Now go. Wait at the entrance and I will send your companion and a portkey."

"Of Course, my lord," Hadrian replied, backing away. It was some sort of test, he assumed. He had expected no less of course.

Greyback!" Voldemort called when Mores had vanished.

The vicious werewolf strolled casually to the Dark Lord's throne. "You called, my master?"

"Indeed," He said enchanting a bit of silk rope he had conjured. He carelessly tossed it to the wolf like man. "Go with Mores. Let him do the work. When you return, you will deposit your memory into a pensive for me to review."

"Our target, master?"

"Benjy Fenwick. He is getting to be a bothersome little insect."

"Might we play with his family a bit?"

The Dark Lord glared at the werewolf in disgust. "If you feel you must. Simply ensure the job is done."

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"So… Greyback, you said it was?" The werewolf nodded. "Going to tell me what we are doing?"

"The master has decided Fenwick is trouble. You are going to snuff him."

"Me? Not we?" He asked.

"S'what the master said. Though," He said grinning sadistically. "We get to play with whatever family he has."

Hadrian shuddered. He could think of killing all he wanted, but did that make him capable of going through with his thoughts? And Fenrir's words and smile left little to the imagination of his brand of … play. It was entirely disgusting, but Hadrian had to participate. Greyback was undoubtedly going to report his every action to Riddle.

The house they were approaching was small and homely. It looked rather inviting and vaguely muggle. White siding stood out against pale green trimming around windows and doors. It was only a two story home, more than likely no different that Number Four. When he reached the door, he flicked his wand. He ignored Greyback's curious glanceas he knocked by kicking the door rather harshly.

Benjy Fenwick was a young man of thirty only recently married. His wife, bow two months pregnant, was a muggleborn Ravenclaw by the name of Melissa. While generally a sweet girl, she could be rather cold when angry. And lately, it seemed she had gotten angry far easier and more often. They often fought about his decision to help Dumbledore and his Order most often. She had understood the need to fight, just not the need for him to fight. He also understood her concerns as well. It wasn't as if he wanted to risk leaving his child without a father. He had simply been raised a certain way. He was a Gryffindor to heart, and couldn't simply ignore the problem.

His musings were cut by a frantic knock on the door. It was more of a kick in actuality, but details didn't matter. "Answer that, wont you?" Melissa's melodic voice drifted from the shower two rooms away. Looking out the peepholeBenjy almost fell over in shock. Just beyond the door, a blonde man almost his age stood. Cradled in his arms was a broken and bloody woman. The man seemed fine, aside from the blood that covered him and his female counterpart.

The blonde kicked the door again, this time speaking in a frantic voice. "Come on, open up! We're being attacked by... by… Madmen with… sticks!"

A muggle, Ben's mind shouted. "Hang on," He called as he undid the locks on and slowly slid the door open.

Fenrir watched Hadrian in confusion as he told the man they were being attacked, yet stood calmly in front of the door. Adding to his confusing, Fenwick seemed to believe him and started to open the door. As the door was eased open, Hadrian gave it one last large forceful kick. The door rapidly flew open and collided with Benjy, sending him tumbling to the floor with a loud thump. Hadrian pushed the door open and walked in as if a long time friend. "Evening, Fenny old pal!"

"Benjy?" A female voice called. Benjy Fenwick began to looked panicked as he tried to stand. It was futile as Hadrian flicked his wand with yet another silent incantaion. Benjy was instantly bound at the wrists and ankles with a strong rope. "Watch him wont you, Fenrir?" Hadrian asked as he walked towards the voice. A minute later, the voice called again as a door opened. Benjy's heart stopped when he heard Melissa screamed. Two minutes of silence passed before the blond man returned and levitated him to the sitting room. Melissa sat on a couch, bound at the wrist and ankles as well. She screamed angrily, yet silent, at the blond man when he returned.

"Hadrian," Hadrian glared at the werewolf for the use of his name. "Would you be so kind as to enlighten this poor fool as to how you managed to convince him to open the door?"

"An illusion charm," Hadrian replied. "I prefer charms to brute force and transfiguration, you see."

"Ah," Fenrir answered. He didn't see. What was wrong with brute force?

Hadrian turned to Benjy and his wife, who sat side by side upon the couch. Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Fenwick. As my friend Fenrir unfortunately pointed out, I am Hadrian. You probably know Fenrir Greyback." The two paled at the name of the currently most infamous werewolf. "We've been sent to educate you on the major reasons of why it's a bad idea to oppose Lord Voldemort. Of course, you could spare yourself the pain and simply join us."

"Not a chance in Hell, you filthy bastard," Ben snarled viciously.

Hadrian sighed. "Why does everyone insist on being incredibly stupid and want to do things the hard way?"

"S'the way of the world," Fenrir told him. "You get used to it."

"Suppose you're right," Hadrian said thoughtfully, rolling his wand in his fingers. It seemed to be a habit that manifested itself when he was nervous. He looked at the woman and then Fenrir. "Would you like the honors?"

"It's your show according to the big guy."

Hadrian sighed again. "So," He said as he turned to Benjy. "I'm supposed to make you regret standing against the Dark Lord."

Ben glared at him hatefully. "Do whatever you like to me. I won't join Voldemort."

Hadrian flicked his wand at the woman, causing a small gash to materialize on her cheek. He was satisfied when Fenwick flinched. "You see, Ben, I don't need to hurt YOU to hurt you. There are so many more creative ways to do it."

Hadrian pulled Mrs. Fenwick from the couch and shoved her roughly over the table in front of Ben. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Fenrir's sadistic grin had returned. Ignoring the werewolf and the inward shudders, he pinned the woman to the table, using one hand to free himself from his trousers. It took a minute of searching due to the binding, but he eventually found her entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into her, both disgusted and addicted to the pleasure that it induced. The adrenaline that flowed through him gave him a sort of high, an incredible feeling. The darker feelings craved the feelings, seeming to feed off of them, while he was both enjoying and disgusted. He had become so enthralled with the feelings he hadn't noticed his body move of its own accord, increasing his pace. It was only the wet sensation upon his legs that he noticed himself.

Reaching down with one hand, he gathered a bit of the fluid and rubbed it into her open mouth. "It seems our dear little friend here is enjoying herself." He mocked. Fenrir laughed his snarl like laugh as Ben growled and the woman lowered her head in shame. Hadrian grabbed her by the hair and forced her head back up. "Now, now love, don't look away. Fenny wants to know how it feels. He wants to see you moan and sigh in pleasure, even if he can't hear it."

Hadrian dismounted once he felt himself release into the woman. He waved absentmindedly at Fenrir who wasted no time in taking the woman. He was far rougher with the young woman than Hadrian had been, but he had been trying to spare the woman the pain. The hateful beast that was Greyback seemed to be trying to make it as painful as possible for the young witch. He turned away as Greyback laughed and mocked them, but the sounds permeating the air simply wouldn't let him forget. Nearly five minutes later, Mores turned back to the werewolf.

"If you are finished?" Hadrian asked.

"Quite," Fenrir answered in a sated tone as he stood adjusting his leather looking trousers once more.

Turning back to Fenwick, he addressed him in a quiet and calm voice. "It has been so much fun, but I'm afraid it is time for our adventure to come to an end." He pointed his wand at Melissa. "Extispex," The incantation was softly murmured and a vague, almost clear light that looked more like a distortion of reality collided with the woman. She coughed violently as blood spewed forth from her lips and her stomach seemed to tear. Melissa's organs had been left on the floor for all to see when she had finally died after three minutes of suffering. Hadrian frowned. He had expected and hoped the death would have been instantaneous.

Fenrir whistled when it was over. "I've got to say, I like your style kid."

"I live but to serve," Mores replied with a mocking bow. "The Unforgivables are so dull, boring, and uncreative." He turned to Ben, and let out an unsteady breath. Closing his eyes, he used occlumency to quickly reach his magical core. It seemed… different than the last time had seen it. He would have to further investigate it later. "Decoquo." A mist of greyish fog descended on Benjy as he struggled to flee. Its effects were slow, taking nearly ten minutes to eat away at the flesh of his body. When it was finished, all that was left were a few toes and fingers. Hadrian shuddered. It was entirely repulsive, and yet the adrenaline in his body felt so enthralling.

"An entrail expelling curse and a disintegration curse. Vicious little thing you are." Fenrir grinned madly. "Keep that up and we'll be good friends me thinks." Hadrian just looked at him before apparating away.