Chapter 12: Explaining to Do

I led Tom by the hand up to my room on the third floor, ignoring Sirius' insistence that the door remains open with a slam. He mentioned that the Order was meeting in the dining room, over whether or not they thought I should be involved, because Dumbledore was paranoid and Sirius said I was in or they could find another place to meet. So they were deliberating. I didn't really care, except it gave me a clear position to be a spy. I should plan this with Tom.

"I'm sure you've been questioning the little connection between us, how you can feel what I feel sometimes, and how I get into your head. I can clear that up if you want."

Considering I thought we'd be coming up here for more than a chat, I was stunned by the proposition of the lecture. Though it was clearly something I should know. I nodded, inviting him to lounge on my bed with me. He opted for the chair, on the other side of the room. How romantic.

"It's like the diary, with a shard of my soul concealed inside. A Horcrux. That's what I believe you are, though I'm not sure how I made you one. The soul is a person's essence, and you have access to mine, which gives me access to yours. You're my last actually.

"You see, the purpose of a Horcrux is to anchor someone to the living world. Though my body was killed 13 years ago, my spirit remained. It was tormenting, a pain I hadn't experienced in my mortal life, crushing loneliness and no power for anything. Which is why I needed to feed off of unicorns and Quirrel when we first met. Ginny's life gave form to my Horcrux diary. I previously had more, Ravenclaw's diadem, Hufflepuff's cup, the locket you found, a ring belonging to my mother and my snake. But I've absorbed my soul from them to be more whole. I leave the rest of me with you. "

It was little much to wrap my head around. But I mostly understood, even felt flattered by him leaving me as a Horcrux. I enjoyed how close it allowed me to feel to him, safe from lonely nights when I could see him in my subconscious. But the tale of him in pain wounded me because it was me who put him there. It was self-defence, and almost entirely his fault, but I was crushed by the guilt it inspired. I never wanted to hurt him, I told him as I thought it in a hope to convey the weight of the truth in it. He just looked at me, not with uncomfortable admiration like before, but with an expression so impassive I wasn't sure he'd heard me. It would take getting used to him being different, but it wasn't all bad.

"Why get rid of all the Horcruxes if they keep you alive?"

"I don't need all the ones I've made. The more I made, the further I sank into insanity. I lost sight of what I truly wanted to do with the Wizarding World. I killed more than I originally would have, though it's obvious I'm not against killing when I am sane. Absorbing the other pieces of my soul regained my sanity, so I'm more likely to succeed in everything I want with logical reasoning. And it's poetic to have someone who has my heart have my soul also."

"So how do you make a Horcrux?"

He raised an eyebrow, "A ritual. Once you split your soul, there's a ritual which will remove it from your body and into an object of your choice. Before you ask, murder splits the soul. I murdered your parents and when my spell backfired, my soul was released. I guess the piece that spilt from that went for nearest living things, seen as I hadn't performed a ritual."

"So I could make one?"

He didn't reply to start with, clearly mentally piecing an argument to forbid me from making my own. But then he asked why I'd want to mark myself for damnation as he had, though without the motivation he had to live forever. It was a simple answer, one he should have figured out on his own. I explained my thoughts on the problems we had if he was to live forever while I lived as long as fate allowed, getting older until I was elderly. And then when I died, he'd be left without a Horcrux, but if I lived forever then so could he. He nodded once but didn't voice his opinion. It was frustrating.

"Tom, we're basically having a conversation about our future. It would be comforting if you participated in this too."

"I was merely considering the possibilities you're presenting. I would never have considered you would have the attitude you do, I anticipated more outrage and less enthusiasm. Though if you're sure, there are Death Eaters that have little use for me, you can choose one of them if it is easier. Peter Pettigrew perhaps. And I volunteer to be the vessel for your soul should you desire. I wonder what effect that would have on the bond we already have, marking me as I marked you."

That would be perfect, all the things I'd want to ask for handed to me before my mouth could open. He was truly starting to understand me. And when the connection goes the other way it creates the opportunity for me to know him just as well. I nodded, a smile plastered on my face that wasn't going anywhere. Or so I'd started to think.

"But, if you can't go ahead with it, I'll understand. There's no pressure on you to be a killer, I love as you already are."

He was aiming to please, I knew that. He was trying to comfort me on worries he thought I had and telling me I didn't have to change for him to love me. But I didn't hear that. I heard 'if you chicken out, then that's alright too. Wouldn't want to force the saviour to be who he isn't. And I think you're okay, I love you enough to overlook it'. I turned my scowl away from him as confusion got to his facial expression, and moved away when he moved to sit beside me on the bed. I was getting frustrated pointlessly, but I couldn't help feeling inadequate in his eyes, and that didn't sit well with me.

"Harry, tell me what you're thinking, I don't want to have to invade your privacy by looking in your mind."

"No." I frowned, "I'm being an idiot, it sucks that I can realise that but not stop myself feeling how I do. But it's hard to have faith in me when you don't."

We turned to the door at a gentle knock. Sirius edged his head around the door, eyes squeezed shut as he asked if we were decent. I giggled. He opened his eyes and smiled. No nakedness, no rumpled sheets, no just-fucked hair. He was satisfied. He told me I was wanted downstairs, as Dumbledore was overruled. I was a member of the Order of the Pheonix now. I left Tom upstairs, offering him to stay the night. He accepted after a moment's hesitation, gauging my reaction as I smiled in response. We'd sort everything out after.

The pantry was full of people, some I knew but others I didn't. The Weasley's cleared a space for me next to Ron. I remained standing as Dumbledore asked what it was I thought he wasn't telling me. I pointed out the injustice in labelling me as some chosen one when I didn't know of any legend or prophesy that backed his claim. Every year someone was trying to kill me, but I had no idea why. Sirius insisted he tell me the prophecy, and we crossed our arms over of chests as a sign of determination.

"Fine. As Harry has mentioned, it is within his rights to know. But he cannot repeat this, there are few we can trust." I nodded, but it was a lie I hoped he wouldn't pick up on. "The prophecy reads thusly 'The one with the power to vanquish the dark lord arises. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. The dark lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the dark lord knows not. But either must die at the hand of the other, for neither can live while the other survives."

That sounded pretty straight-forward. My parents defied him with the order however many times, and my birthday is at the end of July, the seventh month. And it was pretty clear I was destined to kill him if you believed in that shit. Neville could have been this chosen one, but I didn't see how he'd been 'marked' his equal. I'd talk it over with Tom, he'd have an alternative explanation. Prophecies like these aren't black and white. At least that was my hope. I didn't want to hurt Tom, I just hoped he wouldn't want to hurt me either.