Harry tried to convince himself that it wasn't nerves bubbling in the pit of his stomach as he approached the gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office. All throughout dinner he had barely been able to eat, merely moving the food around his place, fully aware that the Headmaster's eyes were on him. He could only compare the sensation to a laser, and in sharp contrast were the eyes of Demeter. Her gaze merely held curiosity, her large purple eyes not expressing that emotion, it was more he could sense the thoughts behind such a look. Maybe now he could sense thought processes better because of Tom? After everything else that had happened in his life since the Summer, he wouldn't be surprised!
Hermione had sent him worried glances all evening, but thankfully Ron had been completely oblivious to his worries, and was doing a pretty good job of stopping Hermione acting on her concern.
He never thought them being lovey-dovey would make him want to cheer instead of vomit.
"Passsssword?" asked the gargoyle on the left.
"Pineapple chunks," said Harry, sounding far more confident than he felt.
"Enterrrrr," purred the stone of the right, moving to the side and revealing the stairs to Dumbledore's office.
Climbing up the stairs Harry forced himself to calm down. This might not be a trap, Dumbledore could instead be planning… Planning what? He hardly doubted this was a surprise party. Regardless, he had to be cool, stay collected like Tom.
He couldn't help but remember every other time he had been in this office. Normally he was glad to be here, maybe once or twice he was terrified, but he had never before felt this unsettled. For the first time since this began, he realised this castle no longer felt like home.
Hearing Dumbledore calling him in, he reluctantly entered. Outwardly he smiled warmly at the Headmaster, letting a little nervousness enter his eyes as if he was worried he was getting in trouble. It was something the old Harry would have done after all.
"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore's voice was warm, but he knew underneath that the man was hollow, just a tool for the Light. "Looking well I see."
"Thank you Sir. May I ask why you wanted to see me?" asked Harry, sitting in front of the desk, moulding his features into a mask of confusion.
"Don't worry my dear boy, you're not in trouble. Quite simply, it has came to my attention that you are growing up, and with this I wish to start private lessons with you to further increase your part in the war effort," Harry tried not to let his shock show. The words showed clearly for the first time that Dumbledore knew he was a vampyre. Was that a warning then? What were these lessons? Images of stakes through the heart, being forced to turn into a bat, or being set alight entered his mind. Ridiculous images spawned from Hollywood, but would Dumbledore use this time to destroy him?
"What will we be doing in these lessons?" asked Harry, making a delighted expression cross his face. Wasn't this what he had always wanted? Ever since Sirius he had wanted to destroy Voldemort. Dumbledore knew that, but he also knew Harry was a vampyre, and that he was almost destined to join Tom. What was the old man playing at?
"We will cover a variety of things, but to put it broadly, the past," said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling being the half-moon spectacles. Harry tried not to think of him as a spider and he a helpless fly tangled in its web. "I'll send an owl later this week with the time."
Seeing he was dismissed, Harry stood up and quickly left the office. His mind was reeling over the possibilities. What did Dumbledore mean about the past? Dimly he was aware of the gargoyles moving back into place, the sound of his feet hitting the cold paving stones as he walked aimlessly through the castle. His mind kept turning over all the possibilities. He was able to withstand torture, so if Dumbledore tried that, then he wouldn't get very far. His heightened magical ability made it almost impossible to contain him. So whatever Dumbledore was planning it couldn't be overt or overly offensive if he wanted his office to remain in existence. He had said it was something to do with the past. Who's past? It had to be something to do with the war, so that meant it was either his, Dumbledore's or Tom's.
Harry came to a halt, the buzzing in his ears diminished somewhat by his logic. Looking around, he realised he was near the Dungeons, the green shadows created by the candles dancing along the walls almost merrily. Turning left, Harry wanted to end up at a Great Hall, he did not, however, want to see Lysander and Blaise in a rather compromising position. What was it with these two and public places?
Harry cleared his throat, "Really, you should learn to put wards up." The way the two of them practically leapt apart seriously threatened Harry's composure, and as it was, he let a small smile slip out.
"Harry!" sighed Blaise, the relief evident in his tone.
"Harry," Lysander was much calmer, no doubt it was him of instigated this one, "I'm beginning to think you like watching us."
Harry felt a faint blush form on his cheeks, and let out a dry laugh. "I'd rather spend a weekend in the Dungeons with Snape."
"I bet you would," chuckled Blaise darkly.
"Well now that you mention it, there is something about the greasy hair that's hard to resist," said Harry after pretending to think for a moment. All of them started laughing at the ridiculousness of this comment.
"Where did you come from anyway? This isn't the right place for a Lion," asked Lysander, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, and crossing his arms like a stern parent.
"Dumbledore wanted to see me, and I needed to take a walk after," replied Harry, realising that they should probably know what was happening, they were, after all, involved almost as much as he was.
"What about?" there was no mistaking the ice in Blaise's voice.
"He wants to give me private lessons," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
"You should report this to Tom, Harry," said Lysander, the serious note in his voice, albeit rare, but not unfounded.
"What if he's found out about you?" asked Blaise, and Harry felt a touch a gratitude at the concern in his voice.
"He already knows I'm a vampyre. The conversation made it evident enough." The shiver that ran down Harry's spine had nothing to do with the temperature.
"Go and tell Tom, if he finds out you've delayed he'll kill you," whispered Blaise.
"Pffft, he'd probably enjoy it," muttered Lysander, a devilish glint in his eyes.
"If anyone asks where I am, just tell them I went to bed or something. If it's Ron and Hermione, however, tell them the truth," said Harry quickly, the shock he had felt since leaving Dumbledore's office gone, replaced with something that appeared a lot like panic.
He saw Blaise and Lysander nod, and then he Phased.
Harry just sat on the couch watching Tom pace back and forth, running his hands through his hair agitatedly.
"That is all he said to you?" asked Tom for the umpteenth tome.
"Yes, I don't know what the lessons are about other than the past, and funnily enough ,there is quite a lot in the past," snapped Harry. He was worried enough without Tom stressing him out more!
Tom stopped, his eyes moving to Harry's and searching so deep Harry would be surprised if he couldn't see his soul.
"I'm sorry, I'm not helping," murmured Tom, moving to sit next to Harry, his arm going around him almost protectively.
"You know Dumbledore the best, what do you think he will do?" asked Harry, leaning into Tom, letting himself relax for a moment.
"Well knowing him, he already knows you're a vampyre, that was inevitable. He already knows you've been in contact with me, or else you would be dead. What he doesn't know are your thoughts on all of this. To him, you will appear to be the innocent boy that left school last June, and we have the elves to thank for that. That means he'll hope your allegiance hasn't changed, he may be manipulative, but that doesn't mean he isn't foolish. However, he cannot be sure of either, and so he will probably try and sway you to the Light, since you are a key component in this war."
"And how will he do that?" asked Harry, wishing for a moment he could see inside Tom's mind. He had never seen someone think so quickly before, it would put Hermione to shame.
"Something to do with the past. Probably my past, and the atrocities I committed as Voldemort. He'll think that'll call to your more Gryffindor tendencies," Harry gave Tom a playful shove, and Tom grinned, "You know it's true. For the amount of Slytherin qualities you possess, they all pale in comparison to your hero complex."
"Well at least I'm not a bookworm," retorted Harry, Tom shoving him at this.
"Books cannot kill you, hero complexes can," murmured Tom, running his fingers through Harry's hair, and Harry felt his scalp tingle slightly.
"You never saw what Hagrid viewed as appropriate teaching material," said Harry, his voice slightly breathless.
Tom smirked, "No, but I can imagine quite clearly. Something that bites? Is seen as repulsive by all except him?"
"Pretty much," grumbled Harry, "You try having your arm chewed by a book, and then we'll see who's got the most dangerous habits."
Tom laughed, and Harry was happy to see he looked less stressed than he did when he first showed up. Tom had been in the middle of looking over plans. Apparently the Light were gathering forces in their kingdoms, and the Dark were gathering their troops in response. Thinking over Fate's words, Harry realised with a sinking feeling that that moment was probably going to happen soon, and now wasn't a time to start second guessing his decisions.
"Do you think the war will end soon?" asked Harry, emerald eyes boring into blue.
"I don't know," whispered Tom, brushing his lips over Harry's forehead, "I believe something will happen, the thoughts swirling around this castle are enough to tell me that. Alderan seems confident, however, and I am convinced that if a battle does occur, we are in a far better position. If Dumbledore is indeed trying to guide you back to the Light, then that indicates they are far weaker than they once were to resort to such tactics."
"Makes sense," murmured Harry, moving his face up, and angling it so their lips came together, just wanting the world to stop for a minute. It seemed like everything was moving so quickly. One minute he was a vampyre, and the next he had a war to fight. It wasn't selfish to take a moment or two to yourself, was it?
At the contact, the magic once again crackled over their skin. It was comforting, the confidence that Tom's emanated helping take about some of his doubts. If there was a war, then they would survive it. They would win, and balance would be restored. Tom did his best to reassure him physically as well, their sheets tangled around them, binding them closer together, and yet reminding Harry of the image he had had in Dumbledore's office. Them the helpless flies, and Dumbledore the giant spider waiting to devour them. And whilst Tom's lips and tongue managed to fend those thoughts away for a while, later that night, safe in the confines of Tom's arms, he could feel that something big was going to happen. The decision to decide the outcome of the war was moving steadily closer, and all Harry could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he would somehow make the right choice.
Sorry! I know this is horrendous, even by my standards! Since we're on the final leg of this story, and I am on holiday now for a few months, the updates will be quicker - I know I've said this before, but I actually have the rest of this story properly planned out now, all I need to do it write it. :) I hope you enjoyed this, and even though I don't deserve them, I hope you review.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter. *sigh*