"You were curious to find out what secrets I have . I suppose I can't blame you for that, but in time you may know. It isn't exactly a secret of why I was sent to Azkaban for doing something I didn't do if you bother reading the Daily Prophet. … But I suppose I could accept your apology," Harrison told him.
Draco sighed in great relief which Harrison rolled his eyes at. He had no idea why the blonde was so worked up about such matters.
"Thank you," Draco breathed.
"But if you really want to know I could tell you later, or you could ask the boy-who-lived to tell you my secrets. He'd love to tell you how much I'm so evil and deserved to be locked up in Azkaban. But considering the aspects that Potter thinks of us as a slimy snake and a Death Eater? He wouldn't tell you anything."
"Just tell me," Draco begged.
Begging didn't suit the blonde, but he was going to keep pestering about his secrets until he gave in.
"Very well."
…
"Sit," Harrison ordered, gesturing to Draco to sit on his bed.
He casted a privacy ward, wordlessly and wandlessly causing the blonde's eyes to widen in surprise. The last thing he wanted was for prying ears to eavesdrop on their conversation and potentially report to someone in power; particularly Dumbledore. He knew his housemates were either dark or grey, and didn't like Dumbledore, but it was better to be safe than sorry.
Draco made a move to speak, but Harrison merely glared at him, sending a little pulse of magic into the air. He got the message and bit whatever was on his tongue. Harrison straightened up his posture and stared at Draco's silver ones, making the blonde one fidget.
"You wish to know my secrets don't you?"
Draco nodded enthusiastically, and Harrison sighed in response.
"I'm only sharing one secret with you and that's it… I'll share how I discovered I was a parselmouth."
"It all started one day..." Harrison's voice cracked slightly, as he realized he would have to unbury the memory.
He wasn't ready, but it was only to appease Draco's curiosity and that was it. He took a deep breath, before he continued on, his voice void of any emotions. He looked at the blonde and noticed that he was leaning forward, and his eyes looking at him all wide, wanting to know more.
...
Harrison took a deep breath before he started his memory. He didn't want to tell Draco this story, mainly because it was deeply personal. It was also the day he started holding more of a grudge against the Potters, and truly realized that no matter what he did-he was always going to be stuck in the boy-who-lived shadow, and no one would believe him.
He always thought of it as the start of what progressed before he was shipped off to Azkaban. How else would the Potters have stood there stoic, as their youngest son was dragged off by the black claws of the Dementors? As their youngest son cried and begged for them, they turned their heads away, ignoring him just like everyone else in the courthouse that day.
Harrison's eyes flickered as he recalled the day,
It was quiet inside Potter Manor which was a scary aspect. Normally, visitors flocked over to Potter's Manor to see the boy-who-lived to see how he was faring or when Dumbledore, or his parent's friends came over.
Not today.
The house was quiet save for his breathing as he watched the Potters through the attic window, his green eyes longing to be able to join them. He wanted to be able to join his father and his brother play Quidditch, or even have his parents' attention, but he knew his parents wouldn't like it.
They didn't like it when he upstaged Saeviour yesterday. When all he did was succeed in the spell, wingardium leviosa, and managed to float the feather up in the air by several feet. By the end of the lesson, he was the only one who managed that while Saeviour lip was curled, letting big, fat tears drop from his eyes as he lied about what happened; how Saeviour was the one who lifted the feather and in his anger, he hit him by throwing several objects to his head.
They hated him when he upstaged their precious son, which was why it was better if he stayed indoors. At least, they didn't have to pretend that they were all a big happy family and merely went on with their lives as if they didn't have another son.
Harrison looked at them as his father flipped upside down on his broomstick, while Saeviour with his mop of black hair stuck up in every direction, as he chased his father down to get the golden snitch first. His fists clenched tightly, his emerald eyes blurring with tears that will never fall. He wasn't going to cry over something that the Potter did to him over a thousand times. This was nothing.
He didn't notice that Lady Potter was unpacking food from her picnic basket, her red hair blowing across her face, with the levees rusting through the breeze. Her brown eyes looked up towards the manor and saw the tiny figure that belonged to Harrison and he froze. Was she going to hit him, or even belittle him, calling him a liar? All the thoughts rang through his head, as he gazed down at his mother.
Fortunately, this was one of the days where she actually remembered he existed,
"Harrison! Come down here and join us!"
....
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