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Chapter 10:
Somewhere, far, far away from Hogwarts...
Nurse Hart sighed. Yesterday, a young man dropped off his grandmère who had many, many problems. For one thing, she was racist to the extreme and claimed the young man wasn't her grandchild. With the proper identification check, it had been confirmed they were related. "She's just in denial," the young man said with a sigh, exasperated. "We've been putting this off for years, you know? Hoping she'd get better. But when she started calling us all 'mudbloods' and... other things around the children, well, you know..."
The nurses' hearts went out to him and they promised to give his grandmère the best care. He smiled at them angelically and had a private chat with the pink lady.
"THE MINISTRY WILL FIND ME AND LOCK YOU UP! MARK MY WORDS, POTTER!"
"Could you give her some fudge? Dark chocolate is her favorite," he said, smiling apologetically at them.
"Of course, Mister Riddle," Nurse Hart said with a smile.
-O-
"Harry, what did you do with Umbridge?" Hermione demanded, slamming down a book for emphasis.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harrison said defensively, popping his feet on the table and crossing his arms. "Besides, why do I always take the blame?"
"Because you're the only one who does all the crazy shit around here," Neville said absentmindedly, not looking up from his book.
"Neville," Harrison whined.
"It's true, Harry," Hermione huffed. "Whenever something's strange going on, you're either at the bottom of it, or you're about to be."
"Oh, come on!"
He didn't speak to them for the rest of the day.
-O-
O.W.L.s were intense. More intense they were than last time. He thought he did pretty well, regardless. Of course, he wished he could skip the useless questions, but he went on ahead and described history in it's most goriest fashion. At one point, he knew he confused Mordor and the wizarding world, but he didn't care. Let the examiners be confused right along with him!
Good news was, Hermione shanked the O.W.L.s, even if she was nervous about it. Bad news was Voldemort was agitated. By what, he had no idea for once.
-O-
"My head," Harrison whined, rubbing his temple.
"Harry?" Neville started. "How did you get in here?"
"Wasn't easy, with a password like 'barnacles'," Harrison groaned. "Fuck, it feels like someone's ramming an ice pick into my brain."
"Harry... your eyes are red."
"Yeah, I haven't been getting much sleep lately." Not that I've ever gotten much sleep...
"No, I mean... your eyes are literally red, Harry."
He froze, realizing exactly what was going on. "Oh... crap."
-O-
"You know," Harrison commented drily upon seeing his own mindscape a total mess. "The journey to the center of the mind thing has become a bit... cliché, don't you think?"
"I would like to see a mind that isn't one big metaphor," a voice said flatly behind him. He turned and-
"Darling," he said happily, wrapping his arms around the man, who tolerated the embrace for less than a second before yanking him off. "What are you doing here?" he asked, perfectly fine with being dangled by his collar.
"I would like to ask the same question, Potter." Voldemort looked suspiciously around. "Is this another one of Dumbledore's plots?" he asked, turning back to Harrison with a suspicious frown.
"I haven't seen him plot in a long time, but... probably... not," Harrison said, tilting his head.
"Probably?"
"You know those lemon drops he's so fond of? Yeah... I've concluded the ones he hides in his desk are drugs."
Voldemort looked tempted to ask, but didn't. Instead, he dropped Harrison and walked down the narrow pathway without looking back.
"Hey, wait for me!"
-O-
"What," Voldemort growled, holding up a... thingy, "are these things?"
Harrison kept quiet, not knowing how to explain his weird as fuck mind and it's defenses.
-O-
"I wouldn't if I were you," Harrison warned upon seeing Voldemort approach a rabbit shaped door. Not that he could open it anyway, but it was a fair warning.
Of course, he was ignored and they had to fight a boss monster for touching the door.
-O-
"Potter, why do you pretend?"
Startled, Harrison dropped the potion he was examining. It shattered loudly and attracted a monster.
"P-Pretend? What do you mean?" Harrison asked nervously.
"Why do you pretend to be in love with me?" Voldemort asked calmly, dispatching frostbite spider with an extravagant swish of his wand.
Harrison was quiet for a long, long time.
-O-
"I'm not pretending," Harrison whispered softly, trying not to show how nervous he was. "I know I come off as... psychotic at times, and I do things- socially unacceptable things- out of boredom, but please, believe that I do love you, Voldemort... And I know you will never love me back, but I still..."
I want to be with you, through thick and thin, past the end and all the flowery things in bad romances. Please know that I would never willingly betray you, love.
Voldemort stared at him in shock before the world broke.
-O-
"I want to kill something," Harrison slurred upon waking up.
"Good morning to you to, Mister Potter," Dumbledore said drily, closing his book and setting it aside. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I played Arkham Knight for fifty hours without getting off the Batmobile," Harrison griped. "In short: like shit."
"Good to know," Dumbledore said with a twitch of the lips. "Do you know what happened?"
"Divine Retribution," Harrison said firmly. "I suppose I shouldn't have said anything about arrows or knees around the aurors, but I couldn't resist."
Dumbledore made a mental note to ask about this later, when Harrison wasn't drugged out of his mind. "Is that so? Tell me, my boy... what did you dream about?"
"I dreamed that I'd gone insane after me and my parents' house burned in a horrific fire, and my therapist defiled my sister before the fire. I, of course, was very traumatized. Oh, and I was a girl for some reason."
"Oh, Hecate," Dumbledore muttered under his breath.
"Yeah, and then everything was LEGO and we couldn't talk for some reason or another."
"Poppy, could you give him a Dreamless Sleep? I think he'll need it."
"And THEN I was dishonored when the Empress died, and I was in prison for six months! It sucked like smack, and I had to break out WITHOUT killin' anyone..."
"...Of course, Headmaster. Of course..."
-O-
"There, there," Harrison said awkwardly, patting his friends' backs as they cried on them.
He'd been passed out for weeks, his scar bleeding purposely the entire time. Poor Neville had to drag him to the infirmary and Hermione only heard about it two days after. They researched what was wrong with him only to turn up empty every time. Madam Pomfrey could only do so much and had to continuously change his bandage. She even called St. Mungo's, only for them to be baffled as well.
"I feel great now, better than before even! When can I leave?"
"Never," Madam Pomfrey said flatly.
"What? NO!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You can get out of here when your magical core heals up. Until then, you're stuck here."
"In other words, forever," Neville said with a smirk. "Have fun, Harry!"
"You people are so lucky I can't feel my legs!" Harrison yelled after them.
In the meantime, he sought to write a letter.
-O-
Snape scowled down at Harrison. At this point, he was very used to it and had no problem with staring back at him. Difference was that they were in the hospital wing and Harrison actually requested his presence.
"I need you to deliver this for me, Snape," he said, holding out a thick envelope.
Snape sneered. "I am not your-"
"To the Dark Lord," Harrison continued, a dark smirk curling at his lips.
It was worth seeing the scared shitless look on his face.
-O-
He groaned when another spike of pain went through his skull.
-O-
He stoically tolerated the doctor's examination and allowed the retched excuse for a man to touch him with his magic. He dearly wished to let it go and kill the man, but he'd already done that to the previous three doctors and he was getting rather tired of ordering Luscious to find a doctor that wouldn't talk.
He couldn't feel his legs, his magic was depleted and Potter left him in a moral dilemma. Life was great. Wonderful even.
"My Lord?" the doctor asked cautiously. He lazily turned his head to look the idiot man in the eye. "Professor Snape is here."
His eyes slowly turned to look at the Potions Master (traitortraitortraitordiediediepiekillmurder) who had a pained look on his face as if someone stabbed him and left him to struggle against a wall.
"Severus," he said, feeling amazingly calm. "What can I do for you?"
"My Lord," Snapple said, bowing shortly. "I was... given a letter. They were very insistent you received it."
He sighed and closed his eyes, relaxing into the cushions. "Is it urgent?"
"No, however-"
"Take advantage of my generous patience and leave. Now."
"It's from Potter, my Lord," Snapple blurted out.
His eyes snapped open. "Oh, really?" Fuck, he didn't have his glasses. And he damn sure wasn't going to put them on in front of these two. What to do, what to do...
"Would you like me to read it my Lord? Surely, it's just teenage drivel..."
"No-" Too late.
"Dear Voldemort,
I have a diary, a locket and a tiara,
My soul is in pieces,
But my heart is at peace,
What am I?
-Harry," Snapple read. Before he could ask any questions, he hit the man with an Obliviate, and, as an afterthought, hit the doctor as well. Great, just when he wanted to be nice for once...
"My Lord?" Luscious asked, stumbling upon the scene just as he calmed his racing heart. He accidentally hit the man with an Obliviate as well. Damn it all, if one more person stumbled upon this scene he created...
"Wanker," he growled. The house elf appeared with a shudder. "Give me the letter in Snapple's hand and... do something with the bodies. And tell everyone I'm not to be disturbed. Fools, the lot of them," he muttered, snuggling nice and comfortable into his bed.
He burned the letter, cursing the realization that Potter was a horcrux.
-O-
Hermione was glaring at the cheshire smile on her friend's face. She knew he knew she wanted to ask why he was so giddy after moping for so long in the hospital wing, but she wouldn't give in. Never!
Neville rolled his eyes. "What's up, Harry?"
"So glad you asked, my friend," Harrison said, practically jumping on the spot. She glared at her other friend. "See this? This means I've finally broken him. And I'm set for life."
She quickly read the letter. In it, it basically said that Voldemort accepted Harrison courtship. Only...
"'No hugging, no kissing until the wedding that never will be,'" she said, slightly amused. "Harrison, you do realize just because he's accepted your... attention, it doesn't mean he's accepted you."
"Oh, I know," he replied, kicking out his feet and swinging back and forth. "But this means he isn't running away from me either. It also means he can't get out of the family dinner I have planned."
-O-
Miles away, Voldemort sneezed.
-O-
"You're a sadist," Hermione said blandly. "Have you told the Headmaster?"
"Nooo... And I don't plan to."
"Harry!"
"Hermione!" he replied, in the exact same tone. "Let me have my fun, won't you?"
"That's all you've been doing!" Hermione said with a pout.
"I know. I'm lovin' it!"