CHAPTER WARNING FOR PANIC ATTACK AND DISSOCIATION
He avoided the Great Hall the next morning, instead opting to go to the kitchen to eat. He never stayed alone in the corridors, always one of his friends by his side. It was a weak countermeasure in case of a sudden attack, but it was better than nothing, Harry thought. His gut told him Malfoy didn't want to involve any other people in this. Then, during class, he avoided Malfoy's stare.
Because he still had to go to class, of course, no matter how little he wanted to.
Sneaking off to meet Riddle had grown much more complicated now, as well, almost impossible. He would leave Riddle alone for the moment, and try again in a few days for one of their already arranged duels. See if Malfoy's frenzy had lessened enough until then to actually leave the common room without friends. Harry doubted it.
It was all very much a pain in the ass.
And it was all Harry's fault too.
How could he have been so stupid to completely forget about Malfoy in the first place? If he had been on guard, the whole thing wouldn't have happened, or, at the very least, Harry would've been able to properly defend himself.
But no, as soon as he stumbled across Riddle, all thought of uncovering Malfoy's schemes had been replaced by plans to get rid of Riddle. Destroy the whole thing by its roots, much?
Only he'd ignored the tree growing right out of the ground.
Harry sighed and focused on the present moment. He sat in class listening to Professor Sprout - or at least trying to pretend he was - talk about the dangerous, disgusting plant they would be looking at in this lesson. Or Harry assumed it was dangerous or gross. It always was either of those things in Herbology.
He looked down onto the table filled with plants, earth, and pots, breathing in deeply the slightly humid air of the greenhouse, and propped his head up on a table. He glanced over at Professor Sprout with the best 'I am definitely listening'-face he could manage, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering to things other than her lesson.
Namely, the blond boy sitting across from him, staring at him intently. For the whole day, Harry had managed to ignore Malfoy to the best of his abilities, if only because he knew that any provocation would make the hole he dug himself only deeper.
But now, in the last lesson of the day, after having to deal with Malfoy's hateful stares for a whole day, the idea of looking back and provoking him suddenly seemed much more appealing. It was what Malfoy was trying to achieve anyway. So why not give in. It wasn't like he could do much with Professor Sprout in the room.
So, Harry looked away from the professor, and over to Malfoy. Glancing over the plants arranged on the middle of the table, Harry caught his eyes, and lifted an eyebrow as if to say, 'What're you gonna do?'.
And Merlin, he knew that it'd have consequences later, but at that moment, he simply didn't care. It was way too much fun to see Malfoy visibly shaking with pent-up anger as Harry smirked at him and then turned back to Professor Sprout.
Merlin, Malfoy was really staring at him all the time, wasn't he? Harry wouldn't be surprised if there were be rumors going around about that in a few days' time.
Shuddering at the idea, Harry turned his attention to the Professor, actually listening to this time, just in time to hear the last words of her sentence when she suddenly spun around and looked at him.
"–ouldn't you agree, Mister Potter?"
"Huh?" Harry said dumbfounded, and giggles rose all around the room as Professor Sprout smiled smugly at him.
"I'm just curious if you support Miss Browns' answer to my earlier question?"
"Er, which one?"
The smile widened, "I asked when the best time to harvest Snargaluff pods would be."
Harry stared at her for a moment, before eventually replying, "No idea, honestly"
"Ah," she said as if she expected that answer. To be honest, she probably had. Then, she turned away from him again and continued her lesson. Harry turned away as well, from both her and the world, staring at the plants before them, which, based on Sprout's question, he figured were Snargaluff's.
Both gross and dangerous plants, Harry thought as he watched one of them catch a fly with tentacle-like root, and leaned back a bit. His eyes drifted over to his right once again and caught Malfoy's, who was looking at him rather smugly. Harry scowled at him and rolled his eyes. Very obviously. So that Malfoy had most definitely seen it.
It kind of felt like playing with fire, provoking Malfoy like this. But Harry had been handling hellfire for more than a month ever since he'd stumbled across Riddle and had begun expecting to be killed every other day.
This was nothing but a match-flame compared to that. Nothing he couldn't handle.
So when Malfoy stopped him at the end of the lesson, grabbed his arm, and pulled Harry back, Harry wasn't scared, or nervous. He only felt vague frustration and annoyance.
"I'll catch you sooner or later, Potter." Malfoy hissed, glaring at Harry, "You can hide with your friends or professors all you want."
Harry felt himself smile, and teasingly said, "Didn't know you were a patient one, Malfoy."
Malfoy scowled and tightened the grip on Harry's arm, "Oh, I can be if I want to, believe me."
Harry tore his arm away from him, "You'll find out I can be quite stubborn if I want to as well, then. See you."
With that, he walked out of the door, pushing it back behind him, right into Malfoy's face. And then, with a smile, he caught up with Hermione and Ron.
He knew that wouldn't be the end of the story, but he decided he'd have his fun with Malfoy for as long as he could.
It was, in fact, not the end of the story, and Harry almost wanted to feel mad about it.
He had lasted about two days before Malfoy had caught him in one of the corridors outside the Room of Requirement.
It was the day they'd planned to meet up for one of their duels, something Harry couldn't really ignore. That's why he had been forced to make himself on the way to the seventh floor, today, sneaking along the corridors under his cloak.
But, exactly because he was underneath his cloak, he hadn't been as careful as he could've been, leaving out the Corpus-revelation spells, to check if anyone was nearby, or paying special attention to any nearby spells.
And that was how Malfoy eventually caught him.
Harry had walked peacefully along the corridor, minding his business and his head miles away, when suddenly, he felt himself stepping onto something wet and sticky. He yelled back, shaking his leg when a moment later, a loud wailing noise rang out, echoing painfully around the stone walls. Immediately, he stepped away from it, stunned and perplexed. Then, he glanced up from his shoe to check for some sort of threat, only to see Malfoy burst out of a nearby corridor and dart straight towards the spot where Harry was standing.
A trap.
Panicking, he dove out of the way, nearly slamming into a nearby wall. By the time he had reached the entrance of the Room of Requirement, Malfoy realized Harry was no longer standing there and dashing towards the door. Harry had just in time finished pacing before the room three times, and yanked the door open, frantically glancing back.
Just as he stepped through the door, Harry was yanked back by his cloak, back out of the door. Only just, he managed to grab onto the cold metal of the doorframe, saving him from falling down and sprawling onto the floor.
Fuck. Malfoy had managed to grab his cloak.
Desperation gripped Harry as he tried to pull his cloak back, Malfoys spells hitting the cloak and sprung into all directions, hitting the floor and door. Then, suddenly, Harry let go of the cloak and used the momentum to scoop it back up and slam the door right into Malfoy's face, who was sprawled there on the floor.
As fast as he could, Harry sprinted inside the room, ducking behind a cupboard that was lying sideways on the floor. His back pressed against the wood of it as he gasped for breath, gripping his cloak tight to his chest. A moment later, he heard the door open somewhere behind him, and Malfoy entering the room.
"Potter!"
Well, it would've been hard to miss that scream.
With a smile on his face, Harry leaned up and glanced behind the cupboard, looking for any sign of Malfoy. Finding none, he pulled his head back, listening to footsteps and trying to stifle his loud breathing.
Then, suddenly, a red light shot towards him from his left, slamming right into the floor before Harry. Cursing loudly, he shot up from his hiding spot, turning his head to the direction the spell had come from. Malfoy stood there, wand stretched out before him and a frenzied look on his face.
Better to run, now.
Another spell whizzed past him, this time crashing into the display case behind Harry, exploding its milky glass and splattering it all over the floor.
"How'd you find me?!" Harry yelled, and ducked behind a table, sneaking away as fast as he could.
"You're not the only one who knows this room, you know!"
Harry scoffed quietly and quickened his steps, running straight away from the direction Malfoy's voice had come from.
"You can't outrun me forever, Potter!"
Swallowing down his response, Harry dove down behind a small cabinet, just big enough to cover Harry, hopefully far away from Malfoy to give himself a breather.
Harry didn't know what to do. Running back to the exit would only prolong the problem, and though he was perfectly fine with that, he still had a meeting with Riddle planned today. But he could hardly run towards the mirror either, with Merlin knows what spells still sticking to him.
No, they'd have to resolve this right now.
Though Harry didn't quite know what there even was to resolve. Pent-up aggression? Because it sure as hell didn't look as if they were just gonna talk about this. Not with Malfoy running around, crashing Harry into walls, and cursing him.
Sighing, Harry stood up and walked back towards the direction Malfoy had last stood in, probably on his way to make a huge mistake. But well, in a fair battle of magical strength, Harry thought his chances weren't bad. Especially with the stuff he learned from Riddle in the last few weeks. Weird, that, learning spells from someone you would eventually use them against.
"Malfoy! I'm here!"
He activated the Corpus-charm, which gave him an acute awareness of every living being around him. Namely, Malfoy hiding behind a cabinet a few steps away, watching Harry like the creep he was.
He spun around and walked towards it. He felt Malfoy lean back against it, backing away from Harry, who only smirked. Talk about a chase reversed.
"I know where you are, Malfoy, there's no use in running away. Now, do you wanna talk about this or fight?" Harry asked quietly. One should always offer a peaceful way to end things, even if the chances of the opponent taking it were rather slim.
His question was answered a few moments later, when a red light shot out behind the cabinet, only missing Harry's shoulder by a hairsbreadth.
Fighting it is, then, Harry thought grimly and sprinted forwards to the cabinet, and found Malfoy standing behind it, waiting for Harry.
The fight was rather quick, now that Harry was no longer trying to run away. It only took a few nonverbal spells and a bit of ducking from Harry to make Malfoy fly backward, bumping his head on the floor.
Harry was upon him a second later, fixing his limbs onto the floor with a quick spell, and stood standing above him, barely even out of breath.
Malfoy, however, was glaring up at him with what Harry thought was more hatred than a human should ever have business possessing, panting heavily.
"Well? Are you satisfied now?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.
Malfoy frantically yanked on his arms and spat, "I won't be satisfied until you're dead!"
"That's a bit dramatic, even for you," Harry said with a sigh and squatted down next to Malfoy, "Look, I have no interest in fighting you. Just tell me what you want, and we'll see if we can figure something out, alright?"
Malfoy glared at him suspiciously, "Fine. But undo the spell first," he nodded towards his arms and legs.
Harry smiled, "Of course. But I'll take this," he bent down and plucked the wand right out of Malfoy's hand before finally reversing the spell.
Malfoy slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head where he hit the floor with one hand and fixing his hair with the other, staring at Harry with obvious suspicion in his eyes.
Harry sighed, "Now, what do you want from me?"
"I want to know why you are in this room all the time."
"I quite like it in here, thank you very much," Harry shot back.
Malfoy's eyes twitched, "That may be. But you want something from it , don't you? What do you know?"
"Nothing much," Harry said, nervously running his hand through his hair. Being honest with Malfoy pained him, but lying wouldn't achieve anything right now. If he wanted Malfoy out of his hair, he would have to tell the truth. Not all of it, though, of course. "I followed you in here, but haven't actually found anything. And then, while looking through it, I've come to enjoy spending time in here."
He looked away from Malfoy, out at the room. He looked at the big atlas standing around on a nearby shelf, or the ornate duck lying on the floor beside him, probably some ancient pureblood toy. Malfoy said nothing.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? This room, I mean."
"I guess," Malfoy said quietly, "Look, you can't stay in here. I have something to do, and I can't do it with you snooping around all the time."
Harry glared at him, "Who's in this room isn't up for you to decide."
"I don't care. I want you gone."
"Well I don't want to," Harry shot back.
"Quit being a nosy little prat, Potter, and just stay out of my business!"
Harry scowled, "Didn't you listen to me?! I'm not in here for your business anymore!"
"Sorry if I don't believe that immediately! And anyway, just you being inside this room is a nuisance!"
"Well, sorry for just existing in here, Malfoy!"
"That's not what I–" Malfoy broke off, running his hand through his hair in frustration, "Ugh you know what, just forget it. I'm out of here."
He turned to stand up, but Harry quickly grabbed his hand, "Wait, we haven't talked this out yet!"
"Well, clearly you're not cooperating properly. What do you even want in here? Look at shiny little things?" Despite his mocking tone, Harry could hear the frustration. Malfoy tucked at his arm, "I'm in here doing important things, trying to be an adult and fixing my family's mess! So just fuck off and leave me be for once in your pathetic little life!"
Harry scowled and let go, stepping back from Malfoy, "And you tell me I'm the uncooperative one. Fine, just go. Sorry for trying to be an adult about this."
Malfoy glared at him, "Just stop messing with my business and we're good, Potter. But I really don't have the time nor energy for your involvement right now."
Harry crossed his arms, "Likewise."
"Good, we agree on something then," Malfoy sneered and held out his hand, "Now give me my wand back."
Harry scoffed, "You'd really think I'd do that? You'll get it tomorrow in class."
"Potter," he growled and stepped closer, "My wand. Now."
"Keep dreaming, Malfoy."
He clenched his jaw and after a few, long seconds brushed past him towards the exit. But just before he vanished past a corner he turned back and called, "You're pathetic."
"So you've said. See you," Without looking back, Harry stepped away, into the direction of the mirror, all the while keeping tabs of his Corpus-charm. Then, stepping through it, he felt a sort of relief he didn't normally feal.
Because at least Malfoy wouldn't be able to bother him fifty years in the past.
Arriving at the lounge, Harry slumped down onto the couch, his head leaning down on its back. Riddle should be there any minute now, probably just kept up by one of his classmates, like he usually was.
Over time, Harry had found out little tidbits about Riddle's life outside this room over the stories he had told. Most of them were just Riddle complaining about all the people who dared to accost him.
That, and his unyielding hatred towards Dumbledore. Why, he hadn't exactly been able to figure out yet, but based on the things Dumbledore had told him about his and Riddle's relationship, Harry had a pretty good idea.
Harry sighed, and leaned down against the armrest, directing his thoughts back to the duel he'd soon have with Riddle.
Fighting with RiddleMalfoy earlier had kind of soured the anticipation Harry'd felt before when he'd planned to let out the whole frustration of the last few days out on Riddle.
Dueling with Riddle always had a certain pull to it. And though Harry had to constantly be on guard and look so that something like in the graveyard doesn't happen again, it was very exhilarating most of the time.
Once, for example, Riddle had cast so many spells in such a brief time that Harry had been forced to run away, turning their little duel into a chase not unlike the one he'd had with Malfoy earlier.
But that time, Harry'd actually feared for his life as spells shot past him, only missing him by hairsbreadth, instead crashing into nearby furniture, making them explode outward and sometimes even block his path. All Harry'd known of Riddle at that moment was based on the maniacal chuckles he heard from somewhere behind him, and the echo of his quick footsteps as he peursued Harry across the room.
It had been nerve wracking and intoxicating, fun in its own way even if Riddle had eventually caught up to Harry. He had smirked down at him as Harry was sprawled on the floor, gasping for breath, and grinning madly.
Good times, that, Harry thought with a chuckle and leaned his head back to stare up at the dark ceiling.
At other times, their duels were almost technical. That was mostly when Riddle was fed up with Harry's ignorance and decided to educate him, of all things.
Those were the times where he would hex Harry until he got a spell right, or correct his stance over and over again until Harry cursed him in his mind. It was all under the excuse of 'wanting a real challenge' from Riddle, and Harry always rolled his eyes at Riddle's antics, smiling.
But there were times where that wasn't fun at all.
It had been their very first duel, for example. Riddle had just finally convinced him of the idea and had guided him to an open place far away from the lounge, wide enough to duel in, and Harry had grudgingly followed, having a bad feeling about the whole thing.
And he'd been right.
When Harry then told him that he'd only had one dueling lesson in his life, Riddle'd made it his first mission to teach Harry how to properly begin and end a duel.
Harry should've known at that moment that this whole thing was a very bad idea.
"Go stand over there, opposite me," Riddle had said, pointing towards a spot in the middle of the place. Harry reluctantly trotted there and turned to face Riddle, his wand gripped in his hand.
"During a proper duel, there is no skin contact allowed, though we can make an exception about that if you like. You seemed to fight very… physical, during our first fight and it would be a shame to restrict you in any way. That would only make it less interesting." Harry had given a quick nod and Riddle smiled before continuing, "So then, besides that, the only thing we need to do is to bow, both at the end and the beginning of the duel. If you are quite ready, we would begin by doing that."
Bow to death, Harry Potter.
Harry had only been able to stare at him, frozen, while Riddle looked back expectantly, twirling the wand in his hand. "Bowing?" he'd asked with a shaky voice, his throat suddenly very dry, and Riddle had just glanced at him curiously.
"That is correct. So, are you ready?"
He'd only gulped and gripped his wand tighter.
"Harry? It's just a bow, nothing humiliating or whatever you're thinking right now." Then, with a hint of impatience, "Come on, we don't have all day."
Harry could still recall the way his fists had shaken as he clenched them to his side and gave the most minuscule bow he could manage, shoving all his panic and memories of the graveyard deep, deep down before straightening up and, without a warning, attacking viciously.
It wasn't a moment he was keen to remember, he had to say. The way Riddle had stood opposite him, and had waited–albeit a bit impatiently–so not at all like Voldemort, had been one of the first things to bend Harry's morals to how they were now, twisting them and making Harry question his motives at any given moment. What a nuisance.
Harry sighed and stood up, walking over to the shelf where the kettle and tea were in. Riddle was late to their meeting, even more than usual. If Harry was forced to sit around here and wait, he at least wanted to do it with a steaming cup of tea in his hands.
Armed with a tea box and kettle, Harry sat back down onto the couch. It was different tea than the one he'd found here a few weeks ago, no, that one had been vanished by Riddle the moment Harry had brought a new one with him.
He'd just filled the kettle up with water with a quick Aguamenti and shot a heating charm at it, settling back in his seat when Riddle appeared out of nowhere, stepping out behind the cabinet.
Harry waved at him, a small smile on his face "Hey, Riddle! It took you ages to get here, did something get in the way? Was it that Ravenclaw girl again, like last tim…."
He trailed off when Riddle stepped closer, and Harry got a good glance at the look on his face. His eyebrows were drawn together so tightly that it had to hurt, and his hands were clenched into fists at his side, shaking. But his eyes were the worst. They seemed so cold.
Harry frowned and sat up, "Are you alright? Did something happen?"
Riddle glowered at him, and sat down into the armchair, looking oddly tense, "I'm fine."
"You don't look fine," Harry said teasingly, but frowned when he saw Riddle's hand on the armrest was trembling, "Y'know we can just postpone the duel if you're not feeling well."
"There's no need for that."
Harry frowned and, hesitantly, reached out. He thought of Hermione and Mrs. Weasley's comforting touches whenever he was upset. With a spark of exhilaration, Harry realized that this was a golden opportunity, a chance to gain Riddle's trust, his confidence. He'd have to do this carefully, to softly ask Riddle what was going on and if he could help in any way.
But the words died on his lips when his hand touched Riddle's skin. It was ice-cold.
Suddenly, Harry was back at the graveyard, trapped against the gravestone of Tom Riddle senior, with no way to run, and all he could feel was pain, excruciating pain, and the cold touch of Voldemort's finger as he touched Harry's scar.
He flinched back from Riddle, his back bumping against the couch.
"What have you done?" Harry breathed, cradling his own hand to his chest, glancing up at Riddle with his heart beating wildly in his chest.
Riddle smiled at him, the look on his face almost proud, and leaned forward in his seat, towards Harry. His eyes were gleaming red. "I did something I had been planning to do a while ago. Only you and this stupid room had been stopping me from doing it earlier. But those days are over, now."
"You…" Cold horror gripped Harry and a second later he scrambled up, out of his seat, "I have to go."
"What, are you scared?" Riddle's cold, cruel laughter echoed after him as Harry spun around without answering and run away, back towards the mirror as fast as he could. He sprinted through it without a second thought and didn't stop until he was out of the room, the door falling close behind him.
He fell onto the floor, then, weakly supporting himself with his arms as he helplessly gasped for breath. A few moments later, he was already struggling to his feet again, his arms wrapped around his torso as he quietly made his way to the end of the corridor, and then up the stairs. The paintings swam before his eyes, their concerned voices only a buzz in Harry's ears, one Harry couldn't bring himself to focus on. He stared mindlessly on the stairs, then the stone floor, as he made his way up, up, and knocked onto a door, still gasping for breath.
The door opened and his eyes fell onto Dumbledore's colorful robe, the patterns making his eyes swim as a warm hand guided him to a small chair in the middle of the office, pushing him down onto it. Harry couldn't bring himself to look up.
The occasional words came through to him, like breath and happened, and Harry desperately wanted to say something, to answer Dumbledore, to explain. But all he could do was sit there on the hard chair and stare down at the floor and Dumbeldore's robe, trying to focus on his breathing and the steady hand sitting on his shoulder.
Slowly, Harry came back to himself, and he could tear his eyes up to Dumbledore's wrinkly face, no smile on it now.
"Are you alright, Harry?"
He gave a short nod and Dumbledore took his hand away from Harry's shoulder. A flick of his wand later, a steaming cup of tea appeared in Harry's hands.
"Drink this," he turned away and pulled a chair opposite Harry, sitting down with a sigh.
Harry looked down at the cup and forced his trembling hands to push it upwards, taking a sip of it. Then, he glanced up at Dumbledore, who was looking at Harry intently.
"Professor?" Harry spoke up, voice coarse. He took another sip of the tea.
"Yes, Harry?"
"Do you know when Voldemort created his first Horcrux?"
"I can't be certain, of course, but to my assumption, it was about this time of the year, give or take a month," he paused, before asking, "Why are you asking me this, Harry?"
"Doesn't matter. I'm sorry for breaking down like this, Professor, but thank you for the tea," he pushed himself up on quivering legs and set the half-drunken tea down onto Dumbledore's table. Not meeting his eyes, Harry turned around and walked straight out of the room.
He should never have gone there in the first place. Now he just burdened Dumbledore with his stupid, broken mind, gave him clues, and made him suspicious.
After exiting the office, Harry walked a few steps over and turned into a dark, empty corridor, sinking, against its cold, stone wall. Sighing, he pulled his knees against his chest and leaned his head onto them, catching his breath.
He and his stupid hopes. He'd only realized it now, but some silly, hopeful part of his mind had thought that he would be able to save Riddle. He hadn't wanted the brilliant, snarky boy he met to turn into that monster of a man who had destroyed Harry's life and that of so many other people. He had almost believed that there was some sort of other option besides killing him. Hell, even right at this moment, Harry was playing out ideas in his mind on how to warn Riddle, warn him of the person he would become one day if he continued like this.
But, of course, that was not possible. Riddle was still the same person who would become Voldemort one day. This was just another proof of this fact, one of many. Harry just hadn't wanted to see it. Hadn't been ready.
But his eyes were wide open now.