Fate
Many of the Death Eaters were visibly on edge. They spoke only in whispers and murmurs to those closest to them, not daring to hold a conversation with any of their further friends. The Wizards Harry had known since Hogwarts were mixed happily with those who had joined Tom's land almost a whole year ago, but they didn't seem any more willing than Harry was to accept the group of people who had arrived here more recently.
Although the Knights of Walpurgis were just as involved in forbidden areas of magic as the Death Eaters were, they held themselves with a clear sense of pride. Wizards such as Rosier, Lestrange, and Black tried to imitate the Knights' posture when they noticed the formality, but their attempts to act dignified were tainted by a few other Death Eaters – such as Avery and Dolohov – who remained untroubled about their own informal body language; they slumped in their chairs and rested their heads upon their hands, just like they would if they weren't currently in a very important meeting.
There were around twenty Death Eaters and thirty or forty Knights of Walpurgis present, sitting around a long wooden table in the largest meeting room. A good percentage of the Knights here hadn't yet met any of the occupants of Tom's land, for today was one of the first main gatherings of the Knights and Death Eaters; there hadn't been time for a safe introduction before this. Tom didn't seem too keen about dwelling upon introductions when the meeting began, however. Harry reflected that this was probably because Tom didn't want to get too close to many of the Knights in general.
"I am pleased to see that you all arrived here safely," Tom said quietly, speaking mainly to the newest Wizards seated before him. "I am quite impressed that you managed to gather so many Knights in such a short stretch of time, what is more."
"It vas no trouble for us," one of the Knights responded strongly. "Upon hearing zhat you vere ready to receive us here, zere vere barely any of us who didn't vant to leave right avay, my Lord."
Harry recognised this Wizard as Faramund Weiß, one of the main leaders of the Knights. Elderly yet strong, with a probing gaze that suggested he rarely stopped questioning people's motives, almost all the Knights seemed to look up to Weiß in admiration – when Tom wasn't in the room, that is.
"I'm I to expect more Wizards to join me in the near future?" Tom inquired, directing his words to Weiß now, "or have you all arrived here already?"
"Zere are definitely more who vill join us in zuh future, I think," Weiß assured Tom calmly. "However, veather or not zhey vill arrive in zuh near future is another question entirely."
Rosier scoffed quietly. This action went unnoticed by almost everyone but the two Wizards sitting on either side of him: Harry and Nott. Tom might have heard it, Harry mused as he glanced to his left, yet he showed no signs of it if he had. Harry supposed Tom didn't care how much his old followers might dislike the new arrivals to this land. Tom believed that the Death Eaters would get used to the Knights eventually – and he was probably right.
"From what I have gathered," Tom continued smoothly, barely smiling at the joke Weiß had cracked, "many Witches and Wizards are eager to join me not due to knowing about me personally, but rather from believing that the date at which I approximately found the Knights is of personal interest to them…"
"Yes, zis ist probably vhat has drawn the attention of so many Sorcerers who are not a real part of die Ritter von Walpurgis," Weiß admitted, acting as though this were a unfortunate yet inevitable defect of people discovering who Tom was. "Finding you so close to Walpurgisnacht – or 'Walpurgis Night' as you English people call it – definitely made more people zhan expected villing to join you."
Tom stared at Weiß for a long time, his dark eyes never wavering.
"Do you mean to suggest," he began softly, his eyes cold, "that information about me has travelled beyond the ears of Knights of Walpurgis themselves?"
The change in Weiß was instant when he saw Tom's threatening stare. He turned a few shades paler than he already was, glancing to his companions for support while he realised the mistake he had made. The Knights were all either confused or uncomfortable, looking at each other briefly and awkwardly. The less slow Death Eaters met eyes to share subtle looks of satisfaction.
"Vell, information about you has not reached far beyond our ears, no," Weiß said in a rush, appearing deeply discomforted. He fidgeted with his hands above the table, tapping and twitching his fingers at a quick, uneven pace. "Understand zhat ve talk of you only in praise und honour, my Lord. Vitches and Vizards have heard of you only–"
"I don't care how highly you praise or honour me when elucidating my sudden prominence," Tom cut across Weiß sharply, his voice closer to a hiss than ever. He didn't have to raise his voice to show his irritation while he glared at the Knight. "I shouldn't have to clarify that privacy is something I value very highly. I expect every follower of mine to know this, even as an unsaid rule."
"Of course, of course," Weiß agreed quickly, still appearing distressed. "It vas a mista–"
"I am immensely surprised to see that those who so proudly call themselves the Knights of Walpurgis could make such a mistake," Tom interrupted again. "I can't imagine how you could have kept this organization a secret for so many hundreds of years if you act in such a manner often. Or did you, perhaps, not think that information about me personally was confidential?"
Harry saw Black glance across the table to Rosier. The two of them smiled slightly upon meeting eyes, before Black proceeded to slyly hide his mouth with his hand, Rosier choosing to stare down at the table, taking a quiet, deep intake of breath to steady himself. Nott was unmoved by the conversation, even if he looked a bit concerned while he avoided meeting Lestrange's eyes. Gonson sat still in front of Harry, being far too close to Tom to risk being caught smirking or snickering. He had to set a good example, Harry knew.
"Ve vere careless," Weiß admitted after a moment, still trying to apologise properly, "ve von't make zis mistake again, my Lord."
"I should be surprised if it were possible to make this mistake a second time," Tom responded irritably. "I do believe the worst damage would be done if this information has already been leaked…"
Weiß didn't seem to know what to say to this. He looked a lot less powerful as his widened eyes darted away from Tom often in fear, causing the less respected Knights to seemingly recoil in response. Before too long of a time had passed, however, another Knight spoke.
"Zere is really no need to worry so much, my Lord," the Wizard said with a deep, cooling voice. "When Weiß says zhat ozer Sorcerers have heard about your greatness, he does not mean to suggest zhat many outsiders now know about die Ritter von Walpurgis itself. He means only zhat people are now slowly hearing about zuh existence of zuh next greatest Dark Vizard the vorld vill know… Ve are not spilling secrets, my Lord, nor naming you directly."
Tom turned his attention away from Weiß upon hearing this new Wizard speak. Though the Wizard sat about halfway down the table while Weiß sat to Lestrange's left, his voice could be heard clearly while the other Wizards were silent. To many people's relief, Tom appeared reassured. He examined the Wizard who had spoken, appearing to muse the situation in a different light.
"If this is true," he said softly, "I suppose I am to believe that no information of true importance has been told to untrustworthy strangers?"
"Of course not, my Lord," the same Wizard said. "As you mentioned before, it ist unlikely zhat ve vould have kept zuh Knights of Walpurgis such a secret if ve had been so careless about zhese things in zuh past."
"Let us hope you aren't wrong then," Tom said, smiling. "Tell me, what is your name?"
"Adelmar Dorn, my Lord."
"Well, Dorn," Tom began fluidly, "I can't imagine why a Wizard such as yourself would be sitting so far along this table. If you would prefer, I could replace you with another – closer – Wizard… Rosier seems far too keen upon snickering to listen to what I have to say, anyway."
Rosier turned to Tom abruptly, his face flooded with shock and indignation. He had worked hard these last few years to get this close to Voldemort, so it appeared as though he suddenly deeply regretting laughing at the Knights' suffering. "I – I didn't mean to offend–"
"Go," Tom ordered.
Rosier didn't argue after this, but he appeared very reluctant while he stood up, staring at Adelmar Dorn who had approached to take his vacated chair. Black showed signs of guilt while Rosier walked away; he avoided eye contact while his expression was drained of all humor.
"Good," Tom commented when Dorn sat besides Harry.
Dorn was a dark-haired, dour looking Wizard who held himself as proudly as any Knight – if not more so due to his sudden promotion amongst this gathering of people. He didn't look at Harry, Nott, Black, Gonson, or Lestrange (who sat closest to him) when he was seated. His eyes rested on no one but Tom.
"Thank you, my Lord," Dorn commented politely when Rosier was audibly seated along the table.
Tom responded by smiling softly, saying, "It is no problem."
A few people were murmuring to each other in hushed English, German, and even French. Tom let the talking continue while he looked up to examine the high, complexly beamed ceiling. He didn't sit and think for long, however, as he remembered why he had called this meeting together.
"I do believe we have discussed the gathering of the Knights of Walpurgis enough for now," he informed the room at large, scanning the long row of Wizards (and the few distanced Witches) who waited before him. "Tonight we are here to talk of my plans for the near future."
The talking died down completely by this point. Taking a deep breath, Tom carried on.
"As many of you can imagine, we are currently surrounded by an almost continuous group of distant enemies who are trying with undying determination to break into this land. They wish to attack us when we are asleep or generally off guard and they wish to take down every one of us in the hope of making sure that this group does not attack them first… They are, in short, exceedingly angry with us all."
The room was silent. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw a few people peering at each other in disquiet.
"This is not to say that you should worry too intensely about an ambush from Grindelwald's people, however," Tom added calmly, sensing their concern. "Know only that a surprise attack is possible… for either side to initiate."
These words brought on a bout of muttering this time, but to Harry's surprise the Knights and Death Eaters weren't concerned. They were intrigued.
"You don't mean to suggest that you wish to initiate such an attack?" Lestrange asked in surprise. He sounded almost joyous to Harry's ears.
"That's exactly what I mean to suggest," Tom responded.
Half of the Sorcerers within the room were suddenly grinning at each other widely, many of the Germans and French Wizard translating Tom's words for each other in excited tones.
"When are we gonna do it?" Avery asked from far down the table, sitting up straight for the first time all evening due to pure interest.
"We will attack within two weeks, I believe," Tom answered. He appeared satisfied with his followers' reactions so far, while they were all deeply enthralled.
"What's the plan?" Gonson asked. "How will we ambush them?"
"Well, with the help of our newest additions to this group, I do believe it will be relatively easy," Tom replied contently. "As for what the plan is… I do believe that the Dragons we keep here will greatly enjoy a chance to stretch out their wings properly, for once."
More grinning, more eager talking… Harry couldn't understand why so many of Tom's followers were enthusiastic about all of this. Surely they knew that Tom was asking them all to risk their lives trying to kill other Wizards who were highly trained in the Dark Arts? Even if many of the Death Eaters and Knights would choose to harm rather than actually kill Grindelwald's people, Harry didn't understand what was so great about all this…
"But we tried to use Dragons to surprise attack them last time, to rescue Jonathan," Black reminded Tom. His confused, strained tone suggested that he was trying not to sound offensive in reminding everyone this. "What makes you think they won't kill the Dragons this time?"
"That's a good point," Dolohov commented distantly from beside Avery.
"There are more of us now," Tom explained, "we have had far more time to prepare calmly before the attack, and you are all far stronger than you were last time. We shall also use all of our Dragons this time."
Harry was surprised. He watched Tom closely, as if he thought this might help him to make sense of these plans while Tom smiled at his followers' delight. It seemed rather foolish that Tom would want to try and attack Grindelwald's fortress the same way he had last time. They had succeeded in rescuing Harry before, sure, but at the price of killing a Dragon and causing the Death Eaters to almost scatter and neglect them in fear, it didn't exactly seem like something Tom should try again. The fact that no one was being rescued, as well as the fact that all of the Dragons would apparently be used this time, confused Harry further…
Then a memory drifted through Harry's mind, seeping back slowly and in fragments due to it having been four years since he last heard these words. The voice of Albus Dumbledore was unmistakable as he thought back to the last time they had spoken… 'They have a shocking lack of remorse and guilt, which perhaps influences the pride they take in relation to any crimes they may have committed… They do not learn from their mistakes, and they do not take any past failures into consideration when planning their next actions… In short, they lack many of the main characteristics that make somebody a moral and sane human being…'
Harry tried hard to push the thought out of his mind, hating the idea that Dumbledore's description of psychopaths would make complete sense in this situation… Did Tom really not realise that using the exact plan twice would likely end in the same result as the first time? Did he not understand that expecting a different outcome was futile? It confused Harry and worried him deeply. The Death Eaters and Knights, however, were reassured by Tom's words.
"Are you sure we'll be able to pull it off?" Macnair asked from close to Faramund Weiß. "There are still a lot of followers that we'd have to face."
"In a surprise attack, I do believe we will succeed greatly," Tom said smoothly, still visibly satisfied. "I'm confident that you are all strong enough to take on Grindelwald's people."
"You don't expect us to defeat zhem all so simply, I hope?" a further German asked from down the table. "Ve vould be facing a difficult battle…"
"No," Tom answered, "this will merely be one battle of many. I don't expect to destroy Grindelwald's people in one night, after all… as pleasant as the thought might be."
Laughter broke out along the table. Harry was relieved that Tom realised this much, at least…
"You expect us to defeat them in zuh near future, though?" the same Knight asked.
"Of course," Tom said seriously, "I expect Grindelwald's people to all be dead, separate, or powerless by next year."
A space was left here for more hushed talking to go. Harry wondered idly why Tom was so willing to divulge his plans, suddenly. The Death Eaters didn't seem to approve of it much; some of them were thinking back to Hogwarts, when Tom had barely shared a word of his schemes to any of them due to fearing that someone would tell a Professor, or even the Headmaster. Even if they weren't at Hogwarts now, most of the Death Eaters didn't see what had changed since then, since very few of them knew even now about Dumbledore's Legilimency skills.
Gonson, Black, and Lestrange all kept glancing at Adelmar Dorn and Faramund Weiß – the closest Knights to them – and Harry couldn't help but partially share their discomfort at this moment, due to a far different reason. He still felt edgy around the Knights because the idea of them still scared him deeply. He still wasn't completely sure whether they should be here at all, or whether it was his fault that Tom had gotten into a fight with the followers of Gellert Grindelwald…
"… Malfoy, my Lord."
Harry's head turned immediately at the sound of the name, a sense of surprise gripping him. He scanned the table, trying to see who might have spoken. Surely he hadn't heard that wrong? He suddenly regretted having not listened to what Tom had asked a moment or two ago. Why would anyone here know that name? It reminded Harry of how he had pretended his name was 'Draco Malfoy' when Grindelwald's people had tortured him…
"Abraxas Malfoy, I take it?" Tom inquired in response to the last comment.
"Indeed, my Lord," the Wizard confirmed. His light eyebrows creased slightly while his pale grey eyes fixed upon Voldemort. "How is it zhat you know of my name?"
"I recognised you," Tom responded, "from a photo that resides upon a shelf at Hogwarts Castle… a shelf that belongs to Horace Slughorn, of course."
"Ah," Malfoy commented, understanding. "Zhat vould makes sense."
"I take it he doesn't know you as a student? You weren't in Hogwarts robes in the photo."
"No, I did not attend Hogwarts," Malfoy answered, "Slughorn and I met only after I left zuh Durmstrang Institute."
"It's rare for Slughorn to praise a Wizard who wasn't a pupil of his," Tom observed. "He has spoken rather highly of you in passing, what is more."
"I suppose he and I are vhat you might consider acquaintances."
"I see…"
Another memory drifted through Harry's mind, bringing him back to the first Potions Class he had sat through in his sixth year at Hogwarts. "Sir, I think you knew my grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy?" Draco Malfoy had asked Slughorn in an attempt to discuss his well-known family connections. "Yes," Slughorn had said without even looked at Malfoy, "I was sorry to hear he had died, although of course it wasn't unexpected, dragon pox at his age…"
Harry almost felt as though he could still smirk about Slughorn's lack of enthusiasm towards the subject of Abraxas Malfoy – especially since the Wizard speaking to Tom seemed confident that he had a good connection to the Potions Master – but he decided against showing his amusement in case Tom became curious about it. Harry's mind began wandering to thoughts of the Malfoy Family after this, as the conversations continued around him…
"Vhen is it zhat you vish to attack Grindelwald's fortress?" a Wizard with a smooth, slow voice asked to the left of Faramund Weiß. His eyes had dark circles around them that reminded Harry of Avery's older brother. "You mentioned attacking within two weeks… might zhere be a more solid date?"
Tom contemplated this question for a moment. Harry watched him closely, surprised he trusted this Knight enough to respond, "Around the Twenty-seventh of this month would be a more solid estimate, I believe."
The tired Wizard nodded a few times, saying no more. He dropped his gaze from Tom, but Harry saw that he knew Legilimency anyway.
"What might your name be?" Tom asked.
The Wizard had been thinking, thus didn't look up for a moment. When his dark eyes rested on Tom's he cracked a short, yellow-toothed grin. "Egon Zerrissen."
Tom stared at the Wizard for a second, impassive.
"My Lord," Zerrissen added hastily, seeing why Tom was quiet. "Excuse my mistake, my Lord…"
The meeting seemed to slip by quickly after this. Tom carried on talking about his plans for attacking Grindelwald's Fortress (after pointedly ignoring Egon Zerrissen for the rest of the evening) while the Knights and Death Eaters listened and asked questions regularly, becoming progressively more enthusiastic. It was around an hour later when Tom decided to stand up, calling the meeting to an end. He began engaging in conversation with a few of the Knights in German while most of the neglected Death Eaters began to leave.
Harry, having no desire to leave just yet, remained where he was seated, idly watching the people around him. He could see Tom talking across the room amusing a lot of the Knights in German while he spoke. A few other conversations began between people who were still present in the room, but mostly the Knights and Death Eaters were heading into the corridor outside. Harry was surprised to find that Adelmar Dorn remained next to him, also watching Tom and the Germans across the room.
Adelmar sat with decent posture like all of the other Knights had, except the sleeves of his robes – unlike on the other Knights' – were currently rolled up to above his elbows. He sad with his hands clasped together above the table, apparently waiting for some of his acquaintances to finish talking to Voldemort. Harry supposed that Dorn didn't see the point in joining the large crowd when he could later ask what Voldemort was saying anyway, yet this reflection did not occupy Harry for long when he noticed something more interesting. Adelmar Dorn had a tattoo on his forearm. His left forearm…
Dorn saw Harry looking at the tattoo after a minute and shifted his position, turning his attention more towards the other Wizard. He was smiling faintly. Harry took this as his chance to engage in conversation.
"That's an interesting tattoo," he began.
"Ah, yes," Dorn responded. "It is of Cassiopeia, of course."
Harry recognised the constellation, thinking back to the Astronomy lessons he had taken at Hogwarts. It wasn't so much the constellation forming the familiar 'W' that caught Harry's attention, however; he was distracted by the fact that the tattoo itself was placed precisely where the Dark Mark would be on the arms of the Death Eaters one day…
"I suppose this is a reference to The Knights of Walpurgis?" Harry asked. His mouth was suddenly a little more dry than usual.
"Of course, of course," Dorn responded. "It is a tattoo zhat many of zuh Knights of Walpurgis share."
"You all have them, then?"
"Most of us, yes," Dorn confirmed. "Zhere are some Knights of Walpurgis who think it is too obvious for us all to have zhis mark, but ozers take zuh risk in dedication."
"Right," Harry said distractedly. The sight of the stars upon Dorn's tattoo reminded him sickeningly of the Dark Mark in the sky that 'Morsmordre' would cast…
"From vhat I understand," Dorn said, breaking the silence, "you are valued very highly by Voldemort, no?"
"What makes you think that?"
"Vell, it seems that he vants very much to protect you, since he vent to such lengths to take you back from Grindelwald's people."
"I suppose so…" Harry wasn't sure why Dorn was talking about this.
"Ah, but I must go," Dorn said before the conversation could continue. Tom was no longer talking to the Knights, so Dorn likely wanted to hear what he had been saying. Upon standing up, Dorn turned back Harry to say, "I'm glad I had zhis short chat with you. It vas nice meeting you."
"It was nice meeting you too," Harry said politely. He was still a bit unnerved about Dorn's tattoo, as well as the use of the name 'Voldemort', yet he still appreciated the fact that Dorn talked to him so casually.
Dorn left without another word. Harry decided to stand up to leave too, not wanting to have to reflect upon anything too worrying here. Tom had left the meeting hall and Harry was intent upon following him, yet before he could do much more than turn around, someone spoke to him.
"Jonathan," Nott said quietly, "I was wondering if I could maybe talk to you?"
Nott had evidently been waiting for Adelmar Dorn to go, for he stood up only a few seconds after Harry, previously sitting directly to Dorn's right. Harry thought he saw despondency in Nott's bright eyes, yet Nott did not meet his gaze for long. He had evidently learnt well from Tom as he hid his thoughts slyly.
"Of course," Harry said. "What is it?"
Nott glanced at the Wizards around him cautiously. He sounded nervous as he said, "I'd rather talk to you in private, if you don't mind."
"I don't mind," Harry said, trying to sound reassuring. "Do you want to take a walk outside?"
"Yes," Nott agreed, "that'd be great…"
Nott walked alongside Harry and they made their way out of the meeting hall. In the corridor Harry saw Tom speaking with some of the Death Eaters. He didn't sound happy and the Death Eaters were visibly annoyed with him, which was rare. Harry was tempted to see what they were all saying, but he decided against it, still curious about why Nott was so nervous.
The fresh air outside seemed to calm Nott a little. They walked past a few smoking Death Eaters and Knights, never breaking the silence. Harry understood that Nott wanted a very private conversation. He couldn't think what would be bothering Nott so much, yet this didn't faze him as they headed to a distant, deserted stretch of land. They stopped walking and faced each other in the near darkness.
"So, what did you want to talk about?" Harry asked.
Nott shifted in his position uneasily while they stood. "Well, I don't really know how to begin…"
He took a minute to choose his words, staring down at his feet in the process. He missed sight of the bright stars that shone high above them, looking like a universal light source glowing though tiny holes of an otherwise perfectly whole sphere of vast, gaping shadow engulfing the earth. Nott saw only the dark, dry ground beneath them.
"I was wondering," Nott carried on without confidence, "if maybe you and… and our Lord could reconsider keeping me and Lestrange at your house?"
Harry didn't respond to this immediately. He didn't have the slightest idea why Nott would ask him to rethink letting the two Death Eaters stay in his house. His first thought was that Nott and Lestrange secretly hated it there, but they had spoken at length to him about what a relief it was to be away from all the other Death Eaters and Harry highly doubted they were just humouring him… To be sure, he decided to ask Nott about it directly.
"Why do you want us to reconsider it? Do you dislike it at my house?"
"No, it's not that," Nott answered quickly, "It's just that… Lestrange feels a bit…"
"Has Lestrange changed his mind about Tom and me?"
"No… no, he's still adjusting to that…"
Harry wasn't sure whether to believe this. A peculiar shadow fell across Nott's averted eyes.
"Are you okay with it?" Harry questioned slowly.
Nott met his eyes, blatantly surprised by the suggestion. Harry noticed then that Nott was not, in fact, reflecting upon dark thoughts about how he disliked thinking about Harry and Tom staying at Tom's house together; the darkness that had fallen across Nott's face was due to sorrow, not irritation.
"I'm fine with it…"
"Then, what's the problem?"
"It's just," Nott began uncomfortably, "Lestrange and I aren't really… getting along very well…"
A crease formed between Harry's eyebrows in confusion. "Why not?"
"Well, he's sort of been remembering things a lot lately, but some memories in particular haven't been exactly… well, pleasant for him…"
"What do you mean?"
"Well…" Nott seemed even more uncomfortable by this point. "I don't really know how to explain it…"
"It is something to do with the magic Tom taught him within the last four or five months?" Harry asked, personally thinking that what the Death Eaters had been practicing was unpleasant for anyone to learn about – or else remember.
"No, it isn't that. It has nothing to do with the work we've been doing here…"
"Then what's unpleasant for him?"
"It's more of a – a personal thing," Nott explained, his voice a little more strained.
Harry waited as Nott attempted to work out how he was going to explain himself.
"Lestrange has become sort of… uncomfortable about the idea of staying around me. I think he just doesn't like the idea that I, well, I'm not really that different from… from you…"
Nott trailed off into a silence, tense as he waited for Harry to understand what he was trying to imply. Their eyes met for a moment while Nott checked to see Harry's expression and this was long enough for Harry to understand. Nott was also reflecting upon how glad he was that he hadn't started this conversation with Voldemort first instead. Harry couldn't help but concur with this relief…
"I had no idea," was all Harry could think to say.
Nott looked almost pained. "I'm not gay," he said firmly, "I still like women, it's just…"
He didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He seemed to want to know how Harry was reacting to this, but he didn't want his mind to be read in the process. He was strained.
"It's okay if you are," Harry remarked honestly.
"I'm not," Nott stated. "I'm definitely not, I haven't liked any other males before… I've had girlfriends in the past – I've liked them. It's just…"
"Well, you obviously like men to some extent," Harry said what he hoped was kindly.
"I'm not gay," Nott said again. "I can't be."
"But you like Lestrange."
"That – that's different," Nott stammered. "I still like women."
"You could like both," Harry commented.
"Sorry?"
"You could like both men and women," Harry explained. "You could be bisexual. It would explain why not even Tom noticed that you were gay – you just never thought about it until now. Until you learnt that some people are gay."
Nott was dubious, yet he didn't contradict the suggestion. "That exists?"
"Of course."
"Well… maybe…" The thought still didn't sooth Nott much. If anything, he looked a little more confused.
"Why would Lestrange be against you liking men if he can accept Tom and I?" Harry suddenly asked, seeing the flaw in Nott's claim. "Is he lying about being comfortable with it?"
While Nott attempted to shield his mind, Harry saw in his eyes that he had hoped Harry wouldn't ask this. This could only be for two reasons, Harry thought; either Lestrange was secretly homophobic or Nott had other reasons to not want to stay at Harry's house.
"Unless you lied about Lestrange being uncomfortable with you?" Harry pressed.
"No, he's still uncomfortable with me," Nott admitted. He seemed a bit upset again. "I think he's also still a bit uncomfortable about you and Tom too, but since it doesn't directly involve him he isn't so opposed to it…"
"Then can't he accept you?"
Almost as soon as Harry had asked this, he understood without needing further explanation. The silence confirmed his new theory.
"But you don't want to be around him…"
It was almost as though Nott was realising this too as Harry voiced it. He stood for a moment, the affliction almost radiating off him.
"No," he agreed quietly. He took a moment to think about it. "No, I'd prefer to not see him…"
Being not quite as reluctant to meet Harry's gaze now, Nott was allowing Harry to see pieces of thoughts that crossed his tired mind. Nott secretly wished to never see Lestrange again; he wished his feelings had been forgotten like so many other memories within Lestrange's recently modified mind. He understood Lestrange would never feel the same way about him. He knew he shouldn't continue being Lestrange's friend.
"You've been friends almost your entire lives," Harry said suddenly, before he could stop himself. He surprised himself to realise that he felt slightly panicked after reading Nott's mind. "You grew up together – your families have been friends since before your birth."
Nott apparently didn't want to hear this. He looked away again, bringing his shoulders forwards uncomfortably and moving his feet as though he were in half a mind to walk away. Harry could see he had upset the other Wizard. "It doesn't matter," he said quietly.
"Yes it does," Harry said, again without thinking about his words. His own tone and feeling of indignation brought him back memories of being fifteen again – a time when he had still been surprised by the unfairness and unjustness of the world. "You can't just pretend you don't feel anything for him – you can't just ignore him forever and pretend he wasn't a part of your entire life!"
Nott was glaring at him now, his eyes shining. "What else am I supposed to do?"
"Just, I don't know," Harry stammered, wondering why this was affecting him in a way he hadn't been affected in years, "just tell him how you feel."
"He knows," Nott said irritably. His voice was thick and shaking. "He doesn't care."
Harry knew this was probably true, but he didn't want to think about it. He tried to think of a better outcome. He didn't want to feel sorrow towards this. "You could still be friends."
"No," Nott denied, "We can't be friends."
"But you've been friends your entire lives."
"He'll never see me the same way again… Not now…"
"But he's your friend!"
Harry didn't really know why he was so against what Nott firmly believed must happen between Lestrange and himself. It just seemed like such a waste to Harry, such a completely needless misfortune that could affect the rest of Nott's life, when just remaining friends could help the both of them. Harry felt like an idiot for thinking this, but he couldn't help it. He had witnessed so much in Tom's land for the past few months and years, but somehow this was something he couldn't take.
Harry wanted to get annoyed at Nott, to tell him that he didn't have to take such a negative route when there was still a chance that the love between him and Lestrange (the love that they gained through years of friendship) didn't have to die because of this. However, Harry also understood that it could be too difficult for them to be friends by this point. Their life-long friendship could be ruined and could never be at all satisfying after this, as much as Harry hated to think about that… Then another thought struck him.
"You'll both be alone," he said in a low voice.
Nott stared at him. These words appeared to have paralyzed him.
"I know…"
Neither of them could think of what to say after this. The warm rushes of summer breeze that travelled across the vast fields of this land hissed in their ears and rusting their dark cloaks. It was only through seeing Nott's bright eyes shining in the dim light that Harry knew the moon was above them, illuminating everything in sight faintly. Nott's overflowing eyes transfixed Harry.
Harry didn't know what to do by this point. He wanted to comfort Nott, but having never known how to do such things, he stood where he was uselessly, memories of his past friends crying flicking past his mind and disconcerting him. Nott was embarrassed that he had become this sad; he avoided Harry's awkward gaze and wiped his face hastily, occupying himself by staring at a distant tree for a few moments.
"I'll get Tom to at least move one of you out of the room," Harry told Nott. He felt bad about being unable to comfort him, but he couldn't help it. As if to make his own internal debate known, he added quietly: "I'm sorry."
Nott only nodded. Nothing more was said.
–X–
"You want them moved from your house?" Tom repeated curiously. "Why, may I ask?"
"Nott brought up the idea," Harry explained. "Apparently he isn't getting along very well with Lestrange, so he thinks it'd be better if they were apart."
Tom frowned a little. "I didn't notice any signs of dispute between the two of them."
"They aren't arguing, exactly," Harry said. "I think they're just sort of… growing apart."
Tom was still surprised to hear this. "Yet you know it is too early for me to feel safe allowing Nott and Lestrange to mingle with the other Knights," he observed.
"They don't have to go back, I could just let one of them sleep in my room instead. It would make it easier for them."
"This is a generous offer," Tom voiced. His eyes bore into Harry's.
"It would just be easier…"
Harry didn't know if he was being very convincing. Tom began walking across the bedroom, intent upon gazing out of his window in thought while Harry remained standing where he was, feigning calmness while he leant against a cupboard, his eyes following Tom.
"Though I am yet to understand your exact reasons for such a generosity," Tom commented, his voice somewhat hollowly as he stood near the window.
"Well, like I said Nott brought it up."
Tom said nothing to this. Harry could see his face reflected in the glass before him. He was surprised to see a slight smile on Tom's lips.
"You know, don't you?" Harry asked suddenly, recognising that smile.
Tom turned away from window, not questioning Harry's inquiry as he continued smirking. "Of course I know, Harry."
Harry almost felt like smiling back, but worry stopped him marginally. He thought about the last time Tom had discovered someone close to Harry being gay; he had done everything in his power to make sure Emeric would never so much as speak to Harry again, which had of course ended in quite a bad way. Harry felt nauseous at the thought of what Tom could do to Nott…
"Nott isn't any sort of danger," Harry informed Tom quickly. "He's bisexual anyway, it isn't like he's just going to be interested in men, and anyway he's not stupid enough to dare try and get with me or you. He's never even shown any interest in either of us, anyway, and –"
"I know," Tom interrupted.
Harry stared, confused. "What?"
"I know he isn't any sort of danger."
There was a silence.
"I've read his mind," Tom carried on, "I know he isn't going to trouble our relationship. He cares only for Lestrange."
Harry didn't know how he was supposed to react to this. Some part of him was happy that Tom wasn't going to do anything to Nott, while another part of him felt annoyed that Tom had overreacted so much in the case of Emeric, which really wasn't very different to this. How could Tom possibly have this reaction now? Harry wondered whether it was a matter of control, or whether Tom trusted Nott more, or whether it was mere luck plus how Tom happened to be feeling at the moment…
"What's different this time?" Harry decided to ask.
"What do you mean?"
"The last time you found out that someone I knew was gay, you lead him away from me and onto the path of becoming a follower of Gellert Grindelwald," Harry pointed out. He had to stop himself from sounding too spiteful.
"Emeric liked you," Tom expressed. "Since Nott wouldn't dare do anything to you even if he did like you too, I don't see the problem."
Harry was still caught between relief and annoyance. He was mute.
"I might, however, like to reconsider continuing Occlumency lessons with Nott…"
"Why would you reconsider that?"
"I want to make sure I can see his mind," Tom said. "To be safe."
"You can see it anyway," Harry observed. Was this the catch, he wondered? Was Tom going to hurt Nott slowly by allowing the Knights and Lestrange to read his mind at all times?
"I want to make sure," Tom repeated.
"Tom," Harry began in a serious tone, "he's never going to be better at Occlumency as you are at Legilimency. You don't have to risk the other Knights finding out that he's bisexual – it would risk your own plans being known as well. It isn't worth it!"
"It would stop him from being too intent upon seeking men," Tom said quietly.
"How can you say that?" Harry asked, stunned. "How can you honestly think that it would be a good thing if Nott had to deny that he liked men – even to himself? That's completely hypocritical!"
Tom was annoyed that Harry was so outraged about this. He thought about Harry's words for a moment or two, trying to work it out, until the annoyance slipped away from him. He seemed to think it'd be easier to leave it, after all.
"It was merely a suggestion," he said.
"Nott doesn't deserve to be treated like that," Harry stated. "He has enough to worry about as it is, since Lestrange is already disgusted that he is who he is."
"I don't believe Nott should receive better treatment merely because he's partially homosexual, if that's what you're implying."
"Why not?" Harry asked, "He's just about the only person here who'd be okay with us being together."
"Of course," Tom agreed darkly, "and there had to be a reason for that…"
"You never discourage the Knights from hating homosexuals," Harry commented quietly. "It doesn't exactly help anything when you yourself are homophobic."
These words knocked Tom out of his tepidness sharply. "How is it that I am, apparently, homophobic?" he demanded. "I don't use derogatory slurs as they do."
"You won't even admit who you are to them and you think Nott deserves to be treated badly for being the same way! It's completely hypocritical!"
"I don't tell them who I am because they'll completely disrespect me, Harry," Tom asserted in a genuinely angry tone. "I only wish for Nott to suffer because I want to ensure nothing will happen to our relationship because of him – it has nothing to the fact that he's not straight!"
"But it's not like you're even happy letting Nott and Lestrange know that we're dating – you still want to modify their minds, even though they're completely willingly accepted it!"
"Lestrange barely accepts it," Tom reminded him scathingly, "and Nott only accepts it because he can relate to us!"
"What, so your plan is to just keep me as another one of your secrets forever then, is it?"
"Harry, you must understand the pressure that surrounds the idea of homosexual–"
"But you're half the cause of this pressure – it's like I'm not even dating you half the time!" Harry exclaimed, thinking privately that Tom was wasting his opportunity to do one good thing for the Wizarding world after all. "They wouldn't even care that much, Tom. They think of you as their Lord, don't they?"
"You know they already have their suspicions about you and I," Tom said, "and I'm not going to confirm their beliefs, it would be foolish risk."
"A foolish risk?" Harry repeated. "Is that all you see this relationship as?"
"That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean then?" Harry demanded, "That this isn't important enough to tell the Knights? That we should be ashamed for being who we are, like Nott?"
"Listen to m–"
"I can't believe you can even stand there and deny–"
"I love you, Harry!" Tom cut across him forcibly. "Won't you listen to yourself? After all we've been trough and after all these years, how can you honestly list such accusations with so much apparent certainty?"
This stopped Harry from carrying on, somehow. He knew he was only bickering with Tom for the hell of it and it seemed as though Tom knew this too. In reality, it wouldn't be a wise idea to tell the Death Eaters that they were dating, no matter how much it made Harry wonder… Though Harry still wouldn't stand for the idea of Tom allowing Nott to be a victim of homophobia amongst the Knights.
Harry brought a hand up to his face to rub his forehead in stress. "I don't actually think you're homophobic," he said in a low voice, breathing slowly as he let his hand drop to his side, "and I love you too. I just hope you aren't going to do anything irrational to Nott."
"I won't do anything to him…"
"Do you promise?"
"I promise. It was a mere suggestion."
Harry hoped it wasn't a serious suggestion, at any rate.
"I know it's impossible that you'd cheat on me, anyway," Tom added.
Harry was a little taken aback. As glad as he was that Tom understood he wasn't going to cheat, Tom's confidence in the claim seemed unusual. "Why are you so sure about that, suddenly?"
Tom stood for a moment, dubious.
"Tom?"
Looking away from Harry, Tom began to walk to the other side of the room, his face unreadable as he held his silence. When his back was turned, he brought a hand to his face, rubbing his mouth in what Harry first read as concern. When Tom turned back to Harry, however, his cloak sweeping behind him in the elegant gesture, he was beaming widely, his eyes alight with rapture.
"I realised the most wonderful thing recently," he said in a whisper, his voice audibly quivering.
Harry was distracted by the inhuman and familiar smile upon Tom's face. His mouth was suddenly dry. "What did you realise?"
"We're not a normal couple, Harry," Tom expressed. His teeth were sharp as the rest of his grin while his wide eyes were unmoving. "They aren't like us, they don't feel what we feel. They could never understand the connection we share with each other…"
Harry had no idea where this was going, but a deep sense of foreboding was gripping him. "What do you mean?"
Tom looked away from him then, pacing the room. His hands made his hair untidy as he ran them through it, unable to stop grinning. "We are beyond normal love, Harry. We are beyond the limitations of general, meaningless, false relationships that average people resort to. They could never love each other to the extent we do…"
"You aren't making any sense," Harry voiced. His hands gripped tightly to the side of the cupboard behind him.
"It makes perfect sense! I… I just…"
Tom appeared both extremely happy yet frustrated that he couldn't quite explain himself properly.
"I love you so much, Harry… I can barely comprehend it more often than not, yet the more I think about it – the more the idea haunts me and enthrals me – the more I am convinced that no one else could possibly feel this way! This isn't like what we were forced to do at Hogwarts – forced to care for when our friends were ill, or when the teachers were annoyed, or when other students were sad and hurt on Prefect Duty…"
"What do you mean by were 'forced' to act that way?" Harry asked, feeling rather concerned by this point.
"Surely you understand?" Tom asked, facing Harry. "Surely you remember what it was like to watch hundreds of people pretending to care for each other so sickeningly at Hogwarts? They never had such obligations at the orphanage I grew up in… It is only to be assumed that it was merely a polite and courteous thing to do at the great castle. It was an unsaid rule, it was expected. No one felt the desire to help people as such unless the teachers were watching. It was all to keep a healthy reputation…
"But now," Tom said assuredly, "now I realise that it was all insincere to them. There is something else that forces me to stay by your side, Harry… Perhaps people try to imitate this unavoidable need for those who they apparently 'love'. No one could care about their friends, family, or teachers as much as I find himself obsessing over you in love…"
Tom was standing close to Harry now, his voice in a whisper as his eyes continued to stare in wild happiness.
"One couldn't truly pass all of this off as 'love', Harry. If this is what people had meant by the word, it has been thrown around far too carelessly… You and I were meant to be. We are beyond what normal humans felt for one another – I knew we must be! All of those forced acts of 'love' that I witnessed at Hogwarts – all of those forced gestures of kindness – they were all lies… We are soul mates, Harry."
Harry was holding his breath, leaning back slightly without thinking about it as his hands continued to clench the wood behind him. These words send such a terrible shock through him that he could neither move nor think properly. He waited for something, anything, to change his state of fear, yet this vague hope appeared futile.
"I would do anything for you," Tom whispered, "my soul mate…"
Only one thought ran through Harry's mind at these words, a thought that informed his numbed brain that Tom knew about their souls. That insane smile showed that he had worked it all out, he knew about Harry's lies. The terror of his realisation was stronger than any fear Harry could remember feeling before. He could only hope that Tom was blind to his obviously staggered expression and reaction. Somehow, against all odds, Tom knew about their souls…
"No one is ever going to get between us, Harry," Tom assured him softly, his face sharply defined in exultation, "Not Emeric, nor Nott, nor fate, nor death…"
These words bemused Harry, not because he didn't understand what Tom was saying, but because he didn't know why Tom had moved on from the subject of souls. Harry could see in his eyes that Tom knew about their souls – he could feel it just like Harry could – so why would Tom not carry on with the subject? Why wasn't he shouting at Harry for his lies, saying he didn't care about their relationship any longer?
Then, quite suddenly, Harry realised his mistake. Tom had not, in fact, just discovered that he and Harry literally share a piece of the shattered soul that had been placed within Harry at infancy. Tom was using 'soul mates' as loose term, no matter how much Harry knew that deep down Tom recognised the aura of importance of the claim. Harry experienced such a strong sense of relief at the thought, he felt as though he was close to fainting. He looked away from Tom and relaxed somewhat as his own expression lost its obvious signs of panic…
"Do you remember when we discussed the importance of love and trust?" Tom inquired softly.
Harry was shaking, but he tried not to show it as he said weakly, "Yeah, I remember…"
"I stick by the same claim I had the last time we spoke of this: I would happily lose the rest of the Knights a thousand times over just to keep you safe, my love. My soul mate…"
"Tom, I…" Harry began, but he couldn't bring himself to say he didn't want Tom to use that term…
"Do you remember when we spoke about how Dumbledore thinks love is the strongest type of magic?"
"Yes," Harry said honestly. What Tom said confused him, however. "Do you think it's true now?"
"No," Tom admitted, "I still do believe the Dark Arts are stronger…"
Harry found he was unaffected by this conversation. He was still trying to get over his previous terror without Tom noticing. He wished he could move away, but instead he just kept on talking. "Why did you bring it up then?"
"I was thinking about Dumbledore." Tom grinned more. "Dumbledore contradicted his own claim."
"How?" Harry asked. This was a little more interesting, so he allowed himself to be distracted from his instability.
"By the whole Grindelwald fiasco," Tom said almost gleefully, "He has to believe love is stronger than all other magic to cover up the fact that he, despite all of his characteristics, dabbled in the Dark Arts at a young age."
Harry wasn't sure why, but he found himself feeling nauseated at the idea that this claim made sense. This didn't help him to get over his other shock. He battled with his thoughts, trying to get his head straight while Tom's marginally less maddened eyes examined his face.
"But," Harry said as soon as a thought truck him, "but that doesn't make sense."
"How not?"
Harry bit his dry lips, wondering what was wrong with him as his mind refused to believe Tom's words. "How would Dumbledore taking up the Dark Arts at seventeen mean that he's contradicting his claims of Love being the most powerful magic?"
"The words of love excuse his 'mistake'," Tom answered.
"But he actually loved Grindelwald."
Tom only had to mull this over for a few seconds. His expression was blank by this point. "He ended up resenting Grindelwald, thus resenting the Dark Arts."
"That was because of love," Harry stated.
"No," Tom smiled softly, "It was because of hate."
Harry didn't understand. "Are you saying Hate is now stronger than both Love and the Dark Arts?"
"The Dark Arts defeat all," Tom said, "while Hate most certainly defeats Love. Dumbledore proved this by duelling Grindelwald three years ago."
Their souls must really make love more powerful then, Harry thought dryly. He surprised himself by thinking this and froze, wondering why that had popped into his mind at all.
"Dumbledore is far from a White Wizard, Harry," Tom voiced, as if it were obvious and as if he thought Harry was currently bemused because of this. "He is Grey at most, yet even then…"
"I still don't get why you're saying any of this," Harry said, hearing slight bitterness in his own words.
"Don't you get it? The Dark Arts are stronger than Love, Harry, stronger than Hate and stronger than Death."
Harry's jaw clenched for a moment.
The maddened smile returned. "With the Dark Arts," Tom said, "our love will be immortal…"
Harry felt fear – sickening fear – returning to him. "Tom…"
"Horcruxes will preserve our love forever, Harry," Tom whispered, reaching up his hands to touch Harry's face gently when he saw that he wanted to look away. "We will be immortal, we will never be alone – don't you see? Our souls will–"
Harry broke away, not wanting to hear this, not wanting to deal with listening to Tom say that he had to create a Horcrux too. Harry didn't know what to do with himself. All he knew was that he wanted to move across the room, away from Tom.
"Don't you want to be with me?" Tom asked. He sounded almost strained.
"It's not that…"
"Then what's wrong?"
In truth, Harry was thinking about Dumbledore again after he reflected upon how much he didn't want to make a Horcrux. He didn't want to believe that the Dark Arts were stronger than Love – and he didn't believe it, but the thought haunted him somehow. He felt as though he was comparing himself to Dumbledore, whilst comparing Tom to Grindelwald… He didn't know whether he was making the right choice, since he knew Dumbledore had been serious about his love for Grindelwald, despite the fact that he chose the Light Arts over the Dark…
"This is our fate, Harry," Tom whispered.
Harry tried hard not to listen; the thoughts in his head felt charred and damaged and slow… Dumbledore lost his sister to Grindelwald – that's what had torn them apart. Tom would one day go on to kill a lot of people Harry had known and loved… Did this make Dumbledore a better person? Because he, unlike Harry, had a better, clearer understanding of what he would and wouldn't stand for?
"Aren't you even listening to me?"
But the Dark Arts, Harry remembered, the Dark Arts proved that he wasn't all that bad… He felt as though both he and Dumbledore had been equally as reluctant to really take part in Dark Magic, even if they ended up learning quite a bit about it. Despite what Tom seemed to believe, Dumbledore wasn't a Dark Wizard no matter how much evil magic he knew. Harry felt the same way about himself…
"…which is why your were taught Parseltongue –"
"What?" Harry interrupted.
"It makes sense!" Tom exclaimed, as though Harry should understand what 'it' was. "It's your fate Harry! It's all connected, and we were meant to be together!"
Harry was bewildered and alarmed by Tom's enthusiasm for whatever it was that he was talking about. He mentally insulted himself for not listening previously. "I don't understand."
"The group you were a part of until you were fifteen were connected to the Knights of Walpurgis!" Tom elucidated, as though this all made perfect sense. "They were working against Grindelwald – along with many of the Knights, perhaps!"
"I – I don't," Harry stammered, feeling worried about this bizarre claim. He didn't have to say more than this for Tom to continue.
"Why else would they teach you Parseltongue, if not in dedication to Salazar Slytherin, and by extent the Knights of Walpurgis?" Tom inquired with a manic stare in his eyes again.
Harry froze.
"The – the Dark Arts," he then blurted out, saying the first thing that came to his mind to contradict what Tom was saying.
"What?"
"They would have done it for the Dark Arts," Harry repeated. He was only saying this to stop Tom from thinking the wrong thing. He waited for a response afterwards, feeling deeply anxious. If Tom started believing that the fictional group Harry was a part of was involved with the Knights of Walpurgis, there could be a lot of problems…
"Even so, you are still evidently connected to Salazar Slytherin," Tom reminded him, unfazed. His smile was wide and wild. "You're still connected to me, Harry. Your group would still have worshipped me, like the Knights currently do…"
"I don't know why you're saying this."
"Because were meant to be, Harry!"
"How does any of this mean we were meant to be?"
"If your group had survived," Tom began, "and if they were – or were going to end up as – a part of the Knights of Walpurgis for killing off Grindelwald's people, we always would have met!"
Harry honestly didn't know what to say to this. He didn't think he would believe Tom's claim even if he hadn't lied about being a part of a Dark Arts group at a young age. He would always have been a follower of Tom, had his group ever actually existed.
"Don't you see how this is your fate, Harry?"
Harry was transfixed to Tom, paranoid of those now seemingly unblinking grey eyes. He shook his head to respond "no" nonverbally.
"You would always have ended up here. Eventually, you would have found me… we would have found each other."
Harry didn't think he really believed this… but he wondered whether he would have always ended up here, in this era. If he had, he still might not have been a Death Eater if he had made different choices at Hogwarts. He could have ended up as someone who helped Dumbledore, or he could have been an Auror working for Abner Moody, helping the Order of the Phoenix eventually in a less obvious way. These thoughts saddened Harry, somehow…
"I would always have found you, through the Knights of Walpurgis," Tom told him. "This unites us, Harry…"
Except, Harry thought slowly, the Knights of Walpurgis wouldn't have known about Tom if it weren't for Harry. They might have eventually found out about him via one of the Death Eaters boasting about him being an Heir of Slytherin, yet that seemed a little bit far-fetched to Harry. Without the Knights, however, the Malfoy Family might not have moved it to England. Thorfinn Rowle and his son would never have ended up as Death Eaters…
This meant one of two things, Harry realised. Either it was his fate that he was here, like Tom suggested, probably meaning that he was caught in some sort vicious circle of time, which would mean that whatever he did would end up being what he was supposed to have done (perhaps even changing his memories, Harry thought wildly), or else…
He froze as the second possibility struck him. If Tom was still speaking, Harry couldn't hear him now. He stared at the ground unseeingly, the realization rendering him completely immobile…
Either this was Harry's fate, as he now dearly hoped, or this was a fragile part of history that Harry had already unknowingly messed with to an astronomical extent. If the Knights of Walpurgis were here because of Harry, and for no other reason, Lord Voldemort was going to rise to power faster than ever before, with more followers and more support than he was ever supposed to have at such a young age…
Harry felt as though he was going to be sick.
"… No one could ever stop us from becoming the great historians that we already…"
Numbly, Harry turned away from the still-speaking Tom. The blood was draining away from his face and a high-pitched ringing sound was shocking his ears beyond the beat of his quick pulse. He was losing his sense of direction and balance, so all he could do was rest his hands on the cupboard before him, trying to steady himself. If this was all his fault, or if he was making Voldemort worse…
"Harry?"
But Abraxas Malfoy and Thorfinn Rowle – they had to have been here! Harry felt dizzy; he felt like all of his blood was quickly leaving his body, leaving him empty. If they weren't here, the Malfoy family might never have found reason to move to Britain – Thorfinn Rowle's son wouldn't become a Death Eater like his father… It wouldn't make sense if Harry had messed up the future, surely his memories would have changed… Harry was overwhelmed by his own thoughts and he couldn't calm himself down. His past would never exist and the future would be worse than ever before…
"They tortured you, Harry," Tom reminded him.
Harry was surprised that he could hear these words. The ringing in his ears had stopped, but his heart could still be heard beating loudly in his ears. He was shaking badly…
"You can't just let Grindelwald's people get away with what they did to you," Tom said. "You can still seek revenge. You can fight with me, as we were evidently destined to do."
Harry opened his eyes slowly, staring down at the polished wooden surface before him. Tom was right about that, even if it was unrelated to everything Harry was truly worrying about. He still had nightmares about that fortress…
"You've changed Harry," Tom told him softly, "You've changed so much since you were fifteen, working with other Witches and Wizards to revolt against Grindelwald and his people. You've change since I met you, since we fell in love. You've changed since being captured in Grindelwald's fortress…"
Yes, Harry thought bitterly, but change had been inevitable… With all that he had gone through, with all that he had seen, he was not the same person he one was. He was no longer the young and naïve Harry James Potter – he didn't even have a real name anymore. He didn't care for things like he used to. He didn't care about saving the world from injustice… except…
Except Harry had cared that Nott was leaving Lestrange without a fight. Despite the fact that he had only just found out that Nott liked Lestrange and despite the fact that it made perfect sense for Nott to distance himself, Harry couldn't stand the idea that two lifelong friends would be broken up like that. The more he thought about it, the more he believed that this was probably because Nott was the closest thing he had to a real friend now. Nott reminded him of how he himself used to be…
This told Harry that something had always remained the same inside him over the years, in spite of everything that had happened and almost every choice he had made. Being in this part of time as a Death Eater with Tom still couldn't change the fact that Harry was still the same person. The fact that Harry didn't truly take part in the Dark Arts, just like Dumbledore, proved this. The fact that he was standing here, shuddering in fear at the idea of Lord Voldemort being too strong, proved this…
Then Harry remembered something else – something so relieving that very the thought shot through him with such intensity, he felt as though he had been shocked by elation. The Knights of Walpurgis had tattoos stunningly similar to Dark Marks that the Death Eaters would later wear on their left forearms. The star constellation was exactly like Morsmordre spell, yet Tom had shown no signs of having thought of this idea himself already – this proved the Knights had to be here!
Harry turned to face Tom. He was still shaking badly in anxiety, but he tried to hide it. Despite the fact that he still couldn't know for sure what he was even doing in this era, or whether he was making a mistake with everything he had done so far, Harry chose to believe that it was his fate. He didn't even fully know what that meant, but he believed it. He was meant to be here… Harry had no control over it when he began beaming widely, still feeling incredibly lightheaded.
"Fate," he managed weakly.
Tom's reddish eyes stared with the familiar concern that was reserved only for Harry. Except this time there was neither happiness nor assurance in Tom's eyes, he was only deeply alarmed by the fact that Harry was shaking so badly, unable to stand up properly.
"Are you alright?" he asked, already walking towards Harry.
"I'm fine," Harry said.
Tom didn't seem to believe it. He stood close by, ready to help Harry if he fell due to his badly trembling body. "You're rather pale."
"Aren't I always?" Harry asked shakily.
Tom smiled faintly at the joke, yet not for long. His expression darkened back to unease. "You shouldn't worry so much about Grindelwald's people," he said quietly.
"I'm not," Harry assured him honestly.
Harry couldn't tell what Tom was thinking. He looked confused. "Why were you smiling?"
Harry didn't know what he should say to this. He tried to think of a rational answer. "I'm just happy you care so much."
"Of course I care," Tom said, sounding almost offended. "What they did to you was unforgivable."
Harry realised that by 'they' Tom meant Grindelwald's people. "They'll be gone one day," Harry commented.
Tom was quiet at this, stroking his thumb softly across the side of Harry's face. "I don't want you to fight them in our ambush," he voiced. "I'd rather you stayed here."
Harry didn't mind this suggestion for once. He didn't want to have to kill any of Grindelwald's people for Tom. "Alright…"
They stood in silence for a moment, until Harry remembered something.
"Tom, you said you think that that group I was a part of might be connected to Knights of Walpurgis…"
"Yes," Tom agreed. "It would certainly make sense."
"Well, even so…" Harry began slowly, "please don't ask them about it."
Tom seemed to find this request unusual. "Why not?"
"I don't want to know if they were a part of the Knights… I'd rather not know."
To Harry's relief, Tom seemed to believe that this made sense. Harry wasn't sure whether he was just being polite, whether he was lying, or whether he really believed that it made sense for Harry to want to leave it in the past, but nevertheless he was satisfied when Tom said calmly, "I understand."
Harry leant forwards, after nodding. He pulled Tom into a hug lightly, wanting to be closer to him. They didn't really hug that often, so Tom was a bit slow in responding, but he responded nevertheless. Harry sighed a little, his eyes closed as he held Tom close to him. He told Tom he loved him, and Tom said the same for him. They continued standing there for a while, not saying another word.
Dear Readers, I'm not dead yet! I am sorry for not updating in over a month again, my life has been rather tiresome as of late. I could go into details, but I'd rather not bore you all with more drama, since I'm sure this story is full of enough of it. At any rate, I am trying to remain strong and am trying to write as often as possible.
I will never abandon this story (and moreover, I wouldn't abandon it without telling you all), so you needn't worry so much when I disappear for a month and a half. Hopefully I won't leave this story for as long again, but I honestly can't make many solid guarantees rn. I'm not dying here or anything, but life is just pretty dramatic and I'm slow with inspiration.
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thanks for your reviews!
