Secret-Keeper

SECRET-KEEPER

There was a time when you could bring me so much trouble, Harry. You threw curses at me, you exchanged insulting jokes with your friends on my account, you looked scornfully at me. Now you have no wand, you are looking at me with respect and trepidation, sometimes even with fear. I am the only conversationalist that you've got. You cannot backtalk to me, not a sound comes out of your mouth - and if you could, you still would not. I notice how you flinch whenever I get angry and sigh with relief if that anger is directed at somebody else, not you. Not very Gryffindor of you, isn't it, Harry? To wish somebody else was suffering in your place? Never mind, it's fine by me. After all, it is a comforting thought that I've finally managed to impress you that much. I tried so hard to achieve this effect at school. Pity it took me so long.

Now it feels that I have conquered you and your spirit. I bred a pet to play with and take to bed. Are you domesticated enough, love? At the first glance, it appears so. We did a fine job on you, Harry. First Voldemort who methodically stripped you of all your shields by killing those who stood by you, then placed you in a cell to dwell on things you hadn't done to save them. Then my father with his ideas of entertaining prisoners with spells and potions to the point that they forget who they are. And finally me. I take special pride in acknowledging the fact that I succeeded where they couldn't. I have to give my predecessors justice, though. They never had the kind of leverage I got on you. You didn't love them like you loved me.

I wonder sometimes if you still do. I would not be surprised if it turned out to be true. At times, when you kiss me without my prompting or think I am asleep and wrap your arms around me, I cannot help but think that you enjoy being here... I'll have to check that theory later. Maybe give you your own bedroom for a couple of weeks and then see how often you voluntarily come to me. You are so compliant and eager now that I am inclined to believe you won't use that other bedroom at all.

Yet... yet I know that you still defy me somehow.

Not with a straightforward rebellion, of course. I trained you far too well for you to dare such a thing. Besides, you are smart enough to realize that there is no place for you to run to from me, the new Dark Lord and the Minister of Magic. You will be captured, returned to the owner and punished. Been there, done that, didn't we, Harry?

So you don't fight me in the open. You decide to have a secret instead. A secret! Don't you know how insulting it was for me to discover that my pet boyfriend kept secrets from me? Well, you'll know soon enough. Right when I find out what is it you are hiding.

It was a little owl feather that clued me in. It got stuck to the hem of your robe and became my obsession for the next few days.

I remember what I felt first when I saw this feather. Admiration. It's been so hard to break you, even after Voldemort's and Lucius' assiduous work, but I had no doubt that you were fully reformed. Turns out your spirit was stronger than I thought. Should I repeat your training all over again now?

Then I began guessing what the feather could mean. Did someone send you an owl? But all your friends were dead. Were you the one who sent an owl? To whom? Were you plotting against me? Were you and your accomplices planning an attack? Or was it an attempt to arrange your escape from here? And where did you find an owl, how did you call it to yourself after I deprived you of the ability to speak?

Only one way to find out. And here I am, following you like a shadow, like a thief on the prowl, despite the fact that this is my manor and you are the one who should be hiding from my wrath. Staircases, halls, more staircases... The path you've selected for yourself is so long and intricate that it will be hard even for me to find my way back. The attic? Oh yes, of course. The most appropriate place to send or receive a letter. I wonder how you trained that bird to wait for you here, not trying to find you downstairs where you could get caught. Where did you find quills and ink for your correspondence? Well, soon enough I will discover all the answers by myself. And if I don't, you will just have to give them to me, love.

I hear flapping of wings even before you open a small creaking door. Something is wrong with the sound. No way one bird can produce so much noise. There must be at least... and then you walk in, finally letting me see it. An owlery. No less than a dozen of owls of all sizes and coloring inhabit the small room, some sit perched on crossbeams, some fly around with hooting.

Is that your secret, Harry? Owls? I don't understand. Did you want pets of your own, getting tired of the role I inflicted upon you? Or perhaps it is a reminder of Hogwarts, of a place where you could rush to, seeking an advice or consolation from one of your friends?

I am angry suddenly and my wand is shaking in my grip. How dare you be unhappy with your new life? How dare you complain about the way I am treating you? I am kind, much kinder than Voldemort would ever be to you.

You hurry towards them with a smile, taking out a bag from under your clothes. I recognize in its contents leftovers of out dinner. So that is why you are still so thin. Must have been hard to hide these pieces without me noticing a thing. Almost absentmindedly I think that in future I should let myself act a bit more distracted during our meals.

Stop. Am I really pondering how to make this easier for you? No, surely not. I won't encourage you. This deceit has to end now. I raise my wand. Two spells are all it will take to block the door and the windows, trapping the birds, and to set the whole place on fire, destroying all the traces of life inside. That would be a right thing to do. I just have to call you and tell you to leave. I should make you watch your hiding place being destroyed. The only thing that makes me pause is a small worm of doubt: what if you refuse to leave?

I've considered you broken before and I've been mistaken as it appears. I could be wrong again to expect humility and obedience from you. If you dispute my decision, then I will have either to let you die with them or force you out. The first alternative is unthinkable. I won't let go of you that easily. The second is possible but would leave you crying for days. I don't want to see you cry anymore. Lately your tears have begun losing their appeal to me. Making you smile against your own will, against the past hurt between us is more fun.

My wand is lowered again. I watch you through the small crack between the door and the wall. You are whispering something soundlessly to an owl you are petting at the moment and I see your lips moving. I wish I knew what you are telling it. More secrets, Harry? Things you never shared with me because they were too personal and I didn't want to hear? Maybe it is time for me to revise that. I want to have you in all ways that count. And now that I know this little secret of yours, I feel no need to expose or destroy it. No. I've made my decision. I will keep your secret as I keep you.

I know that you wait for me to grow bored and kill you. That's what kids do with their old toys when they get tired of them. They throw them away. And you still see me as a kid, even if that kid is your master now. Well, guess what, Harry? I have a secret, too. Your master is planning to keep you for a very, very long time. You don't need to know that, not yet, just as you don't need to know that I made myself your Secret-Keeper and no one but your owls will ever notice or find you. You and all your secrets are mine alone and that's how it will always be.

The End