Be Selfish

Chapter 2

Antonin Dolohov had grown fascinated with Harry Potter. The boy had been able to do battle with him, and actually keep up. He was very powerful, he hid it, but when he really needed his magic? Oh, it was devastatingly powerful. Obscenely so. He wasn't even out of Hogwarts yet, in a single years' time, he would be enormously powerful when he came of age and gained that power boost.

He'd managed to force the Dark Lord out of his mind. Antonin couldn't help but wonder if anyone realized just how rare that was? How nigh impossible. The Dark Lord was an expert Occlumens and Legilmens. He had learned the craft until he had it down hard. The knowledge that Dumbledore was just reading his mind when the mood struck horrified Tom.

For a fifteen-year-old to keep out a wizard with over thirty years of experience in the mind arts was mind-blowing. Now he'd met his share of extraordinary people, you couldn't be in the Dark lord's service if you weren't spectacular in one form or another. Abraham Avery, oh, he was an amazing duller, skilled, didn't half replenish the family coffers. Vincent Uriel Crabbe, impervious to magic – it had to be the troll blood in the family – Cyril Goyle now he had done things with runes that he did not understand. Abraxas had been amazing at charms, his son was powerful, but nothing that could say he stood out. Severus was a prodigy at Potions his skill unapparelled.

He shouldn't be surprised that the boy was powerful. A combination of the Potter and Black genes? It's too bad he hadn't gained any of the family gifts, but considering the power he had at his disposal, well, he didn't need family gifts to impress.

Rolling his shoulders, he shifted just a bit on the rock eyes narrowing speculatively. Wondering if the place was just a ploy to protect the boy. It was a Dumbledore thing to do really. The thought that he had been wasting his time for weeks didn't sit well with him.

"Why are you sitting there?" a haughty but childish voice asked suddenly causing Antonin to snap around. It took everything in him not to raise his wand. Not for any particular reason other than he disliked being surprised. Or rather the shock of the fact someone had managed to sneak upon him.

Big blue eyes stared at Antonin unaware of the immense danger she could be in.

Antonin stared at the child, she couldn't be more than nine or ten-years-old. Maybe even less, he didn't have a child or been around them overly much to use as a guide. "I'm waiting on someone." His voice soft, Muggle or not, they didn't harm children. Or didn't use to. He corrected himself.

She blinked at him, "Oh," was all she had to say, for a few seconds. "Why are you waiting in the park?"

Irritation seeded in Antonin's gut, not used to his actions being questioned. Least of all by a child, a Muggle child no less. "Because I'm not familiar with the area." He eventually informed the ill-mannered child. Her parents should impress upon her the dangers of speaking to strangers.

"Oh," she said, and she opened her mouth again, "Who are you waiting for?" she'd lived here forever, she might know his friend.

"Does your father know you're out here talking to strangers?" Antonin decided to ask the child, giving her a pointed unimpressed look.

"My daddy is at work," was all she had to say, unafraid, clearly, she hadn't been told to not talk to strangers…or believes they'd never find out. "And I'm bored, mum told me to go play." She added with a nod of finality. It was the summer holidays after all.

Antonin stared at the girl aghast, perhaps he stayed at one of the properties facing the park? He sincerely hoped so, leaving children on their own unsupervised was at the height of idiocy. Then an idea slithered its way into his mind, might as well if he'd have to endure her presence. Muggles were the oddest creatures.

"Do you know a boy called Harry Potter?" Antonin questioned the girl, who's eyes lit up. He knew right away that the answer was going to be a yes.

"Oooo, are you the police? Is he in trouble?" eyes wide with delight. Just wait until her friends heard about this, they would be so jealous they hadn't been here.

Antonin frowned, strange creatures so they were. "No, and why would you think that?" what made her automatically think Potter was in trouble and not the victim?

"He always gets in trouble," she declared, believing everything she heard about 'The Potter Boy' her parents like to gossip about people both when she was there or when they thought she was in her bedroom.

Antonin's eye brow was trying to creep over his face and onto his head. The only showcase of his dubiousness, it was clear the kid had to be confused. Potter boy getting into trouble? The Gryffindor's golden boy? "What do you know about him?" leaning back stretching his legs, eyeing the girl curiously.

Kids, completely fearless, Antonin was by no means a small man, he was tall, tattooed and intimidating.

"My mum says I'm not go to anywhere near him." she declared; it wasn't a secret. "He goes to St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys is an institution for mentally deranged and violent adolescent males, named after Saint Brutus." The words had a ring of repetition as if she had heard it over and over again and was parroting it.

Antonin stared at the girl, well, there was likely a lot of Harry Potters in the world. It was highly unlikely he had found the right one after all. That was too bad. "Uh," was all he was capable of uttering.

The great big scary Death Eater, Antonin Dolohov was stunned speechless by a little blue eyed Muggle child.

"He's a hoodlum, just like his cousin and does…drugs and drinks and hurts people, and always gets in fights." She recited, "If we see him, we always sneak away the other way. it's why nobody is in this park, Dudley Dursley did that." She gestured to the swings that had been swung around its structure until they were stuck up top and nobody could get them without climbing.

She absently waved her hand, recalling the stink from the last time they were caught unawares. She was so glad her mum had been there and called them over.

Antonin was utterly befuddled, "Do you know anything else about him?" could it really be the same person? He would be extremely irate if he had been watching over the wrong place so long.

"Mr. and Mrs Dudley took him in 'out of the goodness of their hearts' when Mrs. Dudley's sister and her husband died in a car crash leaving their baby orphaned." Once again it had the ring or repetition. The Dursley family was a source of a lot of gossip despite Petunia's best efforts.

Her son was the worst of the lot, but nobody was stupid enough to say it to the housewife's face. The nephew was no better, really, they couldn't wait to see the back of the pair of them.

They were unknowingly mistaken Piers Polkiss as the Potter child. Which was rather insulting for Piers didn't half resemble a rat most days, and Harry should know, he had met Pettigrew after all. Piers shared many of Pettigrew's characteristics.

It didn't help that Piers was also absent for the rest of the year at a boarding school courtesy of his very rich father in a bid to please his ex-wife and to stop himself ending up known as a deadbeat dad.

"Kelly! Get here right now!" hissed a woman who looked ready to unleash hell. Eyes boring furiously into Dolohov's as if he was to blame for her daughter's naughtiness.

Dolohov gave her an approving look, too late as far as he was concerned, but at least she appeared to be half adequate in making sure her daughter was alive.

It clearly flustered the Muggle who flushed glancing at her feet like a star struck sod. Grasping her daughters' shoulders, her own still hunched, she hissed at her the entire way home, interrogating her on what and who she was talking to.

Antonin frowned; his countenance perplexed. Only part of that sounded like the Potter boy. The rest sounded ludicrous; he knew Mudbloods came up with excuses as to why they leave for Hogwarts. Yet he expected such like 'school for the gifted' or some nonsense they liked to use. Yet they had the audacity to claim he was mentally deranged?

Even he was really annoyed on the boy's behalf. Assuming this was Harry Potter and he wasn't cursing up the wrong tree.

It had been three days since the confrontation with the little Muggle girl. Three days since he had started making himself invisible to all eyes that move. He had no clue how far the Order of the Phoenix's guard on Potter went. He only knew it existed since Severus confirmed it. He didn't want to risk her gossiping about him to the wrong person and being found.

He expected the day just to be as fruitless an endeavour as he previous days, weeks actually.

Then he saw the boy.

He straightened up from his slouched position. He'd been reading a sentence then looking around. Staring at the boy, his teeth clenching, eye twitching in a very rare show of how pissed off he was. The boy was skeletal. Even under the baggy clothes, he could tell. What the hell were his watchers thinking letting him get into the state he was? At this rate, the Dark Lord wouldn't have to off him.

A simple spell could off him. The idiot boy, being in ill health also affected your magic. Pulling up short, he blinked at his own internal thoughts more than just a little stunned. Since when did he give a shit? Sure, he admired the spell work, the power the boy held in that short stature he had. Which was odd, since Evans and the Potters were very tall.

The next thing he noticed about the boy was his lack of awareness. He was either foolishly thinking he was safe, or he had someone following him. Antonin narrowed his eyes, sliding on the enchanting eye glasses, not to read, no, but to see if anyone was around him.

Moody might like to think he owed the only thing that could see through things. With that enchanting eye of his, but he was just as inventive. He'd enchanted a pair of eyewear that would pick up any magic.

Nothing, there was nobody following Potter. Arching a brow, wondering if once again…they were being misled. Was that even the real Potter or just someone they had in place to protect the real boy?

He watched him closely, looking for any mannerisms that might prove who he was. The only problem? He hadn't seen the boy in every day life, only during the fight.

Then he saw the handle of his wand stuffed down his pants. Not exactly the most useful place to put it. Didn't he even own a wand holster? If he tripped, that would be it, a broken wand and maybe even a broken pelvis. Just knowing made Antonin cringe at the thought of the pain.

He was vibrating in incredulity at the boy's actions. Had Dumbledore actually convinced the boy he was safe? That he wouldn't be hurt here? The spell keeping him invisible simmered him into view as he released the hold on the magic Wandlessly and non-verbally.

The boy remained completely oblivious to his presence until there was barely ten feet between them. The stunned disbelief in those prematurely aged green caught sight of him. His jaw unhinged.

He couldn't help but smirking at the teenager, slowly raising his hands languidly. A show of surrender, but that was indeed, all it was, a show. He needed neither word nor wand to cast magic. "I am unarmed, Potter."

Harry glanced around, warily, expecting to be swarmed with Death Eaters any second now. Heart pounding, fingers brushing against his wand and gripping it tightly, wand, for now, pointed at the floor.

Giving him a once over, once again overwhelmed by the power thrumming through the boy. "Don't look so anxious," Dolohov replied, "I'm here under the statute of parley." Which meant that anyone and everyone was safe. He could hardly believe he'd just said that, the Dark Lord would be either extremely pleased or very pissed off with him.

Harry just blinked at Dolohov as if he hadn't heard him.

Antonin wanted to sigh exasperatedly; it didn't relax the boy any. No, he became even more tense and alert. It vexed him, "Under the statute of parley, nobody gets hurt."

"Are we under it right now?" Harry asked, green eyes narrowing perceptibly.

Antonin's thoughts were abruptly cut off, "No," he answered, perplexed by the sudden question. Perhaps there was a little bit of intelligence in the boy. "Boy…" before he could continue, Harry spoke.

"Good," and with that Harry pull all his – lacking – strength and punched Dolohov in the face. "That's for Mione!" going for a second punch but Antonin's hand easily encompassed Harry's. Gripping him tightly, but not enough to hurt.

It didn't stop Harry, who was used to being beaten by bigger people all his life. Instead, he kicked him in the balls, and used his left hand to pummel his fist time and time again into his chest.

Antonin roared in fury; it took everything in him not to curse the sneaky little bloody brat. Not to mention the pathetic muggle style fighting. Of all the things he elected to do…it was that, disgusting. "I wasn't aiming for the Mudblood!" snarling viciously, he had Harry pressed against the ground, keeping him there by using his own strength. "I was aiming for Tonks." It wasn't his fault that the Mudblood had gotten in the way.

"LET ME GO!" Harry writhed in his hold, trying to dislodge him by any means possible. All the thrashing in the world he did, didn't help get him out of Dolohov's hold.

Dolohov leaned down over Harry, wrenching the boy to fae him. "Listen close, and listen well, if we had wanted to kill you…we would have. What hope do you honestly think fifteen-year-old kids have against us? If our objective had been to kill, you wouldn't have left the Prophecy room alive."

Harry stiffened, "Let me go." His voice slightly strangled, he knew, he knew deep down Dolohov was right. It's not like the Death Eaters were law abiding citizens. If they had wanted to kill, they would have done.

Dolohov sensing that he wasn't going to be attacked again by the little savage, eased back. His fingers felt wet, had the boy peed himself? He glanced at his fingers and blanched, blood? had he pressed that hard? No, he knew he hadn't, he knew his own strength. Perhaps the little brat was a hoodlum as he was referred to around here.

"I, Antonin Dolohov do declare that for one week, that Harry James Potter joins me under the flag of truce, under the penalty of death if broken, I so declare it, so mote it be." sparks spun itself around Antonin's bare arm, causing Harry's eyes to almost cross in surprise. Antonin found himself having to stifle his laughter, and at a time of great seriousness. "Shall we?"

Harry stared at Antonin as if he'd lost the plot, "Why?" what did they honestly think this little ruse was going to accomplish? There was no way Voldemort wanted him to join his side. If they ever met it would be a simple repeat of every occasion they'd met. Voldemort attempts to kill him, he somehow getting away by the skin of his teeth.

"Finish the damn oath," Antonin demanded in annoyance, it wouldn't stick there forever.

"How?" Harry asked.

"Add your own clause to it and recite so mote it be," Antonin gave Harry an odd look, was this kid seriously saying he didn't know how a simple (but powerful) truce oath went? He knew Hogwarts education had declined…but had it fallen that far?

He needed to talk to the few members on the board that were sympathisers.

"I, Harry James Potter, agree to the flag of a truce for the duration of a week. So, mote it be." Harry almost parroted the words, confused on a lot of things. Had Dolohov just agreed to something that would result in his death? Could magic do that? He thought as the magic flared around them, magic sinking into their skin and disappearing.

If it was risking death…why?

"Good, now let's go." Dolohov's meaty fist landed on Harry's shoulder and Apparated them away from Prying eyes and Privet Drive.

A/n – I would have made this longer, in fact I wanted to, but I just don't feel right today. Slight fever and ugh I feel like I'm trapped in a damn corset my chest is so sore when I cough! My back feels like its being caved in I hope I feel better tomorrow but for right now…I actually wanted the chapter to go a little differently, I might actually still delete the last sentence and send Harry back home but I think them being on neutral ground would be good…both ways have pros and cons…where do you think the name Dolohov likely came from? Hmm I'm thinking of them going to a foreign country for the duration…and honestly…how would you feel about a sane Voldemort in this? would you prefer no explanation or an explanation for it? R&R please