62 - Rising
Harry was shaking badly. Both of his palms stung as his uncut fingernails dug deep into them, drawing blood as a result of the tightly clenched fists he continued to hold, to distract himself from other pains. His spine ached and his head pounded as he knelt hunched over on the cold, rough ground, which – despite it's temperature – did nothing to cool his burning skin. He could feel the sweat release itself in waves over his body, making him feel even more direly ill. His eyes remained wide open, staring off into space in delirium between surges of violent, ongoing vomiting.
It had only been a few days ago that Tom had taken a trip to Hogwarts, accompanied by a few of his closest followers. Taking advantage of the arrival of the summer holidays, Tom had managed to break into the Gryffindor Common Room after gaining entry to the recently vacated school. He had crept through the halls of the castle unnoticed, confident in the magic he cast, while his loyal Death Eaters waited apprehensively outside the gates. They wanted to remain close; they stood expecting and dreading to be signalled via the Dark Mark at any moment, if danger found its way to Tom.
The spell of his own spew was pungent to Harry was he breathed in deeply, but he barely had the will left in him to care as he spat out the rancid taste, wishing he had more to throw up. His stomach heaved painfully and ceaselessly. He wasn't sure if he had much more energy to even keep himself kneeling like this. The dark cave around him was spinning, and all he could do to keep sane was to urge scraps of thoughts to surface in his mind.
Within the Gryffindor Common Room had been a statue, and upon that statue of Godric Gryffindor there rested a sword that had been placed there decades ago. Harry had never heard of the sword of Gryffindor ever being placed there, nevermind the statue taking up a spot in the Common Room, but although none of the Death Eaters themselves had come from that Hogwarts House, it was apparently common knowledge (for Tom at least) that the sword resided there. Tom had mentioned quietly to Harry one evening that he had planned to get the sword himself on a trip to the castle at a later date.
The vast cave amplified Harry's breathing, exaggerating his already horrid, jagged rasping, which gave wordless voice to some of the suffering he was facing. He had been amongst the few select Death Eaters waiting outside Hogwarts School, of course. He had been there when Tom emerged from the castle, his face hidden beneath a dark cloak, his form blurred between layers of falling rain on the stormy night they had chosen. Tom had been so excited when he came into view, he had almost forgotten to hide the passion that burned into his already maddened eyes for Harry.
That night, Harry couldn't believe the extent of Tom's adoration for him. He had taken Harry to a quiet place, a nearby Inn, to hold a more private discussion and to express his excitement. He had seemingly kissed every inch of Harry's skin, whispering to him about how much this would change their lives, how it would expand the possibility of what they could do. He was almost completely unable to believe he had succeeded in convincing Harry to create a Horcrux, he held Harry's hand and pulled him closer between admiring the sword of Gryffindor, whispering softly of the love he felt, of how proud and overjoyed he was that they could stay together forever.
"This sword has made a champion of it's master in innumerable battles," Tom had told him as he leant in close. "It is as you will become: renown for your power, cherished for your continuously growing and adapting strength..."
Harry felt as though he was choking. Coughing fits had begun spontaneously and he began sinking closer to the filthy ground, weakened further by his crushing lungs, by the pounding headache that was worsening every second. If he had thought the worst part of creating a Horcrux would be the act of murder, he had been sorely wrong. Now he was in a state of healing after the affects. He had been here for hours but it felt like months, or longer, of suffering. It felt as though he had gone over years of experiencing pain in a very short amount of time.
They had made plans for the creation of a Horcrux weeks in advance. Only a few days after acquiring the Sword of Gryffindor, Tom had brought Harry here. They had Apparated far from the Inn they had stayed in, arriving at a deserted site by the sea. The horizon had been so dark, it had looked as though it were about to engulf them whole. The clouds above and the shore beneath was all that was slightly visible in the moonless scene. The soft, quiet sea was eerily calm, especially besides such ominous, gaping shadow. The water was clear and smooth against the tiny rocks, shells, and pebbles of the shore. It was unlike Harry had ever seen the sea. It looked closer to a lake.
Tom had taken his hand gently, gazing at his shadowed form. One lingering kiss was all that he needed to convey his emotions. Then he withdrew the Sword, placing it in Harry's free hand without a word. Harry remembered how much he loved the weight of the Sword; this alone told him and reminded him of it's power, it's meaning. Tom had then begun walking with him along the shore. He took him to a dark cave, lighting his wand on the way and analysing Harry as though he was all that mattered in the world.
Harry had rolled over onto his back, avoiding the pile of blood, spit, and vomit next to him the best he could. Still, now, he was slipping into states of unreality, going through rushes of abstract, imaginary thought and non-thought as if his brain could no longer function properly. He knew it was likely that his mind was doing this to distract him from the pain, even if that had died down so much. He felt lifeless now, broken, and empty, but he would stay in this state if it meant he never had to face the recent pain again. It was indescribable, as if he had experienced something so far beyond a human-level of understanding, he had wizened himself by years within seconds.
He had wished he would die, just to end it. Contradicting everything he had promised Tom, all he had hoped for was that this would just end, so he could find peace anywhere available. He had forgotten why this was happening at all. He had lost all memory of how Tom held him before the events started, hissing too him affectionately and promising him it would be worth it. In the intensity of having his souls split, he didn't even know who he was. His mind had been wiped in blind agony and all he could do was face the pain of his soul, leaving his physical body for a strange realm of unnatural experience.
Little did he know, the splitting of his soul had lasted only a few seconds at most. Tom had set up the Sword and Harry in the correct positions, before reminding Harry of the magic he had to preform. To prepare the Sword and his body to hold a shred of soul hadn't been easy, but eventually Harry managed it, at Tom's guidance. When Harry had taken the final step to the creation of a Horcrux, after a gentle moment of reassurance from Tom, the feeling had been very strange indeed for the first few moments. Then Harry had been sucked into the terrible mass of disarray and torment all too soon.
As Harry lay with an arched back, coughing up what felt like blood between heavy gasps of breath, he remembered how happy he had felt when Tom led him here, his words and touch so gentle, so compelling. He had felt a dull sense of excitement as he watched Tom show such happiness, and the reassurance in all of Tom's actions deepened his trust. He had been a fool for believing that creating a Horcrux would be a simple process. Hours later now, he knew he had been nothing but an utter fool.
"Wh-w-w-what's hap-p-ppen-ning t-t-" he had stammered, unable to hear his own words as he watched flashes of abstract thought play before his very eyes. Even now Harry felt haunted by what he had gone though. He understood that for as long as he lived he would not be able to forget his experiences tonight, no matter what he tried. It would always be there, hunting him, reminding him of the worse mistake he had ever made. Existence had shattered before him...
The only moment of relief that Harry had felt during the course of Horcrux creation had been a stretch of time, cut up into many tiny pieces that flickered between pain, where he had imagined a peculiar scene. Floating in the air above his own body, he watched as a ghost of himself slide out of his already ghostly form. Interrupted only sometimes by his other (painful and loud) illusions, Harry watched the ghost of himself glide off into the distance, heading in the direction of the Sword of Gryffindor.
The sound split his eardrums between the quiet of his nicer illusion. Before the ghost of his main being could go far, another figure was emerging from the darkness from behind Harry. This time it was a figure of Tom. Harry thought at first that the Tom ghost was going to leave with his second half; he reached out a hand to stop him. Tom, however, didn't go. He glided closer to the other Harry, pressing his lips against his once, before turning back to the real Harry. It was almost as though Harry was watching it as two people, being the him above the body and the him drifting to the Sword.
The ghost of Tom had become very close. Before Harry knew it he bad begun kissing him, a lot more passionately than Tom had kissed the other Harry. Tom was embracing him fully, wrapping his arms around him as if this was the first time he had had enough space to touch him fully, to make them – together – a whole. The kiss wasn't a sexual action. It intensified further as the illusion began to break up, flickering faster and faster until it wholly returned to the terrible wasteland of pain Harry had felt before. It was beyond all physical suffering, it was the complete act of inhumanity in the shattering of a soul.
Although he had been far from able to hear it, he had screamed at the top of his lungs as soon as his soul returned back into his body. He had withered on the ground where he lay since dropping dead, his eyes bulging and staring off into nothingness as every breath he took released itself in the loudest possible volume, to unknowingly express what he felt. He seemed able only to cry for relief from the trauma of having his scrap of soul settle back into place. He never knew it when Tom, who stood watching him, began grinning at the sight of his animated body, laughing hysterically as he understood that this meant the Horcrux had succeeded.
"The worst is over, my love," Tom whispered to him now, kneeling over him in this cold, damp cave.
Harry could just about see reality again, he could understand the difference. He heard Tom's words slowly, unevenly, but understood it's meaning. To get closer to Tom and to try in vain to lesson his discomfort, Harry curled up on his side. Wrong in the assumption that Harry could fully feel it, Tom was stroking his hair, looking down at him with half-closed eyes that still burned with elation. It would be another hour, at least, before Harry felt well enough to even move.
Until then, and just like in the hours before, Tom waited by Harry's side. He was watching over him in the knowledge that Harry was the only person in the world who truly mattered to him. He wad basking in the joy of knowing he would have him now and forever...
– X –
Two days passed before Harry was well enough to walk around. He had rested in Tom's room, trying hard to regain his energy as he remained laying still for a forgotten stretch of time. He could barely remember how they had returned to Albania, or why they had moved so quickly from England instead of staying put there. All he knew was that even now he felt utterly exhausted, in mind more than anything. He found himself sitting in Tom's kitchen in the late evening, wishing his brain would start working properly again.
"Drink this tea," Tom offered, handing him a cup of dark liquid, "it'll help."
Harry took the cup from Tom's hands. It was too warm to drink quickly; he set it on the table in front of him.
"I'm satisfied to see you are awake and better now, at least somewhat," Tom said as he sat down opposite him.
Nodding vaguely, Harry continued staring into space. He felt too tired to look at Tom, or even to lift up the cooling tea before him.
"Perhaps, since you are less ill now, you might wish to begin thinking about training with me?" Tom suggested. "There are many new things I would like to show you... I have been preparing for this for a very long time."
Harry could think of no objection. It didn't matter by this point. "If you want."
"I do want," Tom said, smiling. "I want it very much."
Harry didn't understand Tom's open happiness at this. The smile he wore faltered somewhat after a moment of no response.
"Drink the tea," he said, "it'll give you more energy."
Harry followed Tom's orders, taking a small sip.
"Would you be willing to learn new magic, now that you're safe?"
Harry took another slow sip of tea, this time a bigger one. I tasted nice. "It was never about being safe or not."
Tom watched him. "But you'd be willing to try?"
"Yes," Harry responded. "I've been curious about it..."
He couldn't stop his monotonic voice, but nevertheless what he said was true. He felt so tired, so deadened. He took another sip of tea.
"When were you thinking about starting?" he asked.
"Any time that is preferable to you, my love."
The tea was making him feel better, oddly. "I don't mind."
"In a day or two then, perhaps."
Harry attempted a nod, but he wasn't sure weather it was much success. He was staring into space again, wishing he didn't feel so numb.
"It will be a while before you return to your normal self," Tom informed him, as if he too had been thinking about Harry's tiredness. "This exhaustion will fade."
The cup in his hands was burning Harry's fingertips, but he barely felt it. "I don't think I'll ever return to my normal self..."
"This stage of Horcrux creation fades," Tom told him, perhaps correcting himself. "It's the worst you will have to have endured."
"And when I die?"
Tom took a moment to try and make sense of this. "Die?"
"If I get too hurt," Harry elaborated, "if I get hit by a Killing Curse, if I get my head ripped off by some beast... you're saying being born again won't be this bad?"
"Well, there are some similarities, I believe," Tom said quietly. "Weather or not it would be worse than creating a Horcrux itself... I cannot yet be sure."
Harry guessed that it was probably the same. There would probably be that odd, torturous state of becoming a bodiless soul in an unnatural way. He continued to drink his tea.
"How does it work?" he asked. The idea seemed quite curious. "After your body is destroyed, I mean."
"It's rather simple," Tom said, "one becomes caught between the stages of life and death, having the ability to wander this earth as far less than a human. One becomes a spirit, of sorts. The piece of soul that makes us who we are is saved from death in search of it's whole, but naturally when the rest of it is locked away in Horcruxes there can be no finding or retrieving it... not out of one's human form, anyway. So we're free to wander."
"What happens after that?" Harry asked. He was looking at Tom now. "Surely you don't just stay as a wandering shred of soul?"
"One must then acquire a body."
"By living with someone in a shared body?" Harry suggested, thinking of Quirrel.
"That is one way, yes," Tom said, "but it is a lot less efficient than what is normally suggested."
Harry didn't understand. He was tired, he wished Tom would explain it all at once."What's normally suggested?"
"Well," Tom began calmly, "you must first understand it is difficult, if not impossible, to take full possession of a grown witch or wizard's body. It takes too much magic for a mere shred of soul to kill someone from the inside, and due to a lack of energy one cannot take possession of their victim's mind for long. One cannot force the victim to harm or kill themselves either, for to kill the victim from the outside is to destroy any chance of stealing the body. It would be a waste of what precious energy one has left; to fail regaining a body once could mean years of having to wait.
"What is more, adults have a lot of will to fight against an invasion as such; they have the ability to understand you are possessing them, they have the power to fight back, to seek help, and to warn others of your slow, painful theft of their body. If they make an appointment with a Healer, for example, the Dark Magic one uses within them could be easily detected. Even after taking full possession of one's victim, there is a lot of magic involved as well as a difficult potion. One needs help to regain total control of a human form again."
"So... what do you do? If you can't take over their mind, or kill them, they'll find out you're infecting them eventually. They'll break you first, and people will find out you're rising from the dead again."
"This is true, but as I said before: it isn't possible – or at least not advisable – for one to steal the body of a fully grown witch or wizard... Thus, one must focus on a weaker prey, on a type of human that will lack the faults an adult has in fighting back, seeking help, and telling others. In the simplest explanation, one must instead possess the body of an infant, murdering it from the inside with all the energy one has."
Silence fell. Harry didn't feel shocked by these words, nor disgusted, nor afraid, as he might have only a few days ago. Instead, he was curious. "You kill a child?"
"It's the most vulnerable form of human," Tom explained. "There is little for it to do, and because all of the affects of taking over the body are internal, there is no one who can discover why it cries for help so often. It can't elucidate what it's feeling, there is no way for anyone to even know it before it's body is taken over wholly. One can kill it from inside out without the parents' knowledge, wearing it's otherwise wasted body as protection for one's soul."
Harry didn't know what to say to this. Shadows of emotions were surfacing in his conscious mind, but he could neither feel nor identify them. He brought the cup of tea up to his lips once more. He remembered how Voldemort had looked just before his rebirth; his body had been tiny and frail. The very sight of him had repulsed Wormtail to the point where he couldn't even look at him properly, nevermind touch him... It made sense now that Voldemort had killed a child, to hide in it's vulnerable skin.
He reflected that this explained why Voldemort's shred of soul had latched itself onto him as a baby. He must have been vulnerable too, like any object prepared to be a Horcrux, a shelter for a shred of soul. He wondered whether he might have been infected by Voldemort's main piece of soul if the other shred hadn't found him first. He wondered if Voldemort might have killed him slowly like the other babies, perhaps while he, Harry, rested in the arms of a clueless Sirius, or Hagrid, or even Dumbledore later on. He wondered how soon he would have died...
Instead, however, Voldemort's main shard of soul had wandered on. Harry supposed, now, that Voldemort had hidden away for so many years in Albania because he had lost all of his energy, as Tom suggested could happen. Voldemort's followers never knew what to do to revive him. Tom couldn't find a body to possess until thirteen years later because he was weakened, he was aware that the Order of the Phoenix and Ministries were after him, and he was even less of a fragment of soul than he had ever been before. This might be the flaw of multiple Horcruxes. Harry wondered if Tom had ever even been close to dying before that...
"We needn't think of any of this until a far later date, however," Tom mentioned casually, the idea having no affect upon him. "What is important now is that you are free to practice any magic you like. You are free to move on to learn great things..."
Harry knew Tom liked this idea very much. He talked about it often, and each time his eyes would light up with a burning passion, as if he found nothing more appealing than the idea of Harry getting more involved in the work that he did. It was his passion, it was all that he cared for.
"I'd like that," Harry responded in a low voice. It was irrelevant to him if this was a lie or not. All he wanted was to make Tom happy. It was all that mattered now.
– X –
"Round 'em up!"
They were standing in a dark field to the middle of Tom's land. Around twenty Knights of Walpurgis were present, all of them spread out to form a very large ring around Harry. They were focused on the centre of their circle, where a single deer was pacing frantically past a pile of dark shapes.
"They're already dead, aren't they?" asked a Knight loudly from the crowd. "It ain't exactly hard to round 'em up, Dolohov."
"Shut up Mulciber," Dolohov shouted back, momentarily ignoring what he was helping to levitate to the centre of the ring, "you don't even know what you're talking 'bout."
Harry barely listened to their argument. The pile of bodies being moved was of much more importance at this time, so he watched with forced interest. This would be his first proper lesson in the Dark Arts – he had to stay focused.
The deer tried hard, again and again, to run away from this place, perhaps scared by the rancid smell of bodies, but the Knights were eager to stop it. They shot spells at it any time it ran in their direction, acting as if this were an amusing game for them.
"Whenever you're ready, Jonathan," Tom's voice called over the others, "you know what to do."
Harry nodded without looking up. Tom had explained to him how he must preform this magic, of course. It wasn't very difficult, but it was dangerous nevertheless. He wanted to get this over with quickly, to understand finally what it felt like to use the Dark Arts to this extent. He raised his wand.
Dolohov and the others quickly retreated to their places in the circle at the sight of Harry preparing for magic. They never once turned their backs to the pile of carcasses they had brought here, for good reason. The whole circle was apprehensive. They held their wands held out in tightly-gripped fists, barely daring to look away.
Harry filled his lungs with air. Upon breathing out he began to chant the words of a long, complicated incantation. At first nothing happened. The bodies stacked, scattered, and strewn across the centre of the ring of wizards remained immobile and silent. Then, just as the Knights began to wonder if Harry had failed to master what Tom had discussed with him, the Inferi were rising.
Their first movements were quiet. Elbows and knees bent at a sluggish pace, as heads and faces drooped over chests and shoulders due to a lack of strength. A low moan could be heard coming from the throats of many of them, making a hum of voices fill the air. Broken bodies long since dead were animated once more, forgetting the fatal wounds that had released their souls, forgetting the rotting, torn flesh that clung to their moving bones. They staggered over each other in the pile freshly created, trying to follow Harry's orders of heading towards the lonesome deer.
There was an undeniably noticeable sense of emptiness that emitted from the Inferi. It caught Harry in a sense of dis-reality to watch them move in such a slow pace, as if the act of standing up was more difficult with each passing second, even with magical support. Some of them were unable to get to their feet, others stood with their heads dropped, their feet dragging along the dry ground. Harry had control over all of their movements; now it was time to give them the will to fight. He raised his wand.
With one spell, many things happened at once. The Inferi froze where they stood while their faces snapping up simultaneously in the direction of the deer. Their whitened, blurry eyes burned a deep red of anger and their teeth were bared in strength and hunger. The Knights closest to the deer were recoiling on instinct at the mere sight of this; they were drawing away and holding up their wands in defence without any further provoking. The Inferi, however, were already on the deer.
They made such loud shrieks of fury, Harry could feel his heart pounding in fear for the first time since the creation of his Horcrux. They were gone from where they stood in so short a stretch of time that he could barely comprehend it. They ran at their prey at a speed that no living human could possibly have endured without serious injury, for they knew no pain. For the first time in memory Harry heard the sound of a deer's voice in terror, before the noise was promptly ended by a snapped neck and a torn-out throat.
He decided to end this, driven first by fear, second by the knowledge that he wouldn't be able to stop it if the Inferi ran at the Knights. With a wave of his wand, the magic stopped. Rage faded from the eyes of the corpses and their knees were buckling with the weight of their flesh. They stared up at the dark sky above them, falling. Clawed fists full of the flesh lost their strength and slipped from the warm body of the deer. The hoard had dropped in a ring around the dead animal, which now looked like nothing more than a pile of blood and bones.
The shrieking still rang in Harry's ears. He stared at the scene in front of him, wondering how on earth it had happened so fast. The deer was gone; antlers were visible in the loose grip of one Inferius, while what could have been a part of a skull had dropped by the hands of two others. Many Inferi had blood staining their deadened fingers, caught beneath their fingernails, spreading down to the wrists and arms of some of them. They had fought tirelessly.
Harry couldn't believe the rush he had felt at the sight and the sound of the creatures running and shouting in rage at such speed. Even now his hair was standing on end, his heart was racing, and every inch of his body was on edge in preparation to deal with the danger. He couldn't remember feeling this alive; before he knew it he was grinning wildly. Without thinking, he raised his wand again.
"What are you -!" a Knight tried to warn him in panic.
The rising, screaming Inferi cut out all other sound. They were ripping at each other's arms and faces in an effort to get to the remaining pieces of deer first. The body of the animal was obscured by it's murderers barely a second into the magic being used again. Harry felt alive with the fear being struck within him, he felt empowered in the knowledge that all of this was under his command and control. The Inferi finished the deer. In an instant they were spreading in all directions in search for other fresh beings to destroy.
"Protego!"
Tom's Shielding Charm curved around the Inferi closest to the watching Knights, but before it was cast an Inferius had grabbed one of them. When Harry he saw the struggling Knight, he forced the magic to stop. The Knight was howling in fear and pain even as the Inferius at his neck lost all strength and bloodlust. He was bleeding badly, the bone of his shoulder exposed to anyone who dared to looked. A large chunk of his skin had been torn off, pieces of it caught between the nails and teeth of the crumpled Inferius.
The Knight staggered away from where he had been bitten, cautious of Harry's work even as the magic was not in use currently. There was fear crushed into his panicked features as he glanced around, seeing most of the other Knights backing away hurriedly, or coming to help him with evident reluctance. The Knights feared Harry. They, like him, were probably wondering what on earth was going to happen now, if (on his first try) the Inferi were able to cause so much damage so quickly. Harry caught Tom gazing at him from across the field. Two wide smiles spread across their faces.
However, Tom's smile didn't last long. His expression of happiness was replaced by alarm as he saw something he hadn't expected to see here. He began walking forwards just as Harry felt it; blood was beginning to pour from his nose. Harry reached up a hand to rub it off, thinking it was just a little blood, but it kept pouring out. Tom reach him. Raising his wand with an elegant sweeping motion, he stopped the blood from pouring immediately.
His expression of concern lessened, but didn't fade.
"This is all we need to see tonight in relation to the Inferi," Tom said in a carrying voice, informing all the Knights in earshot of his orders. Many of them saw, but didn't think twice about, Harry's bleeding. It was clear to Harry that Tom was ending this lesson in concern for it. "Dolohov, I'll leave you in charge to take the bodies away again while the rest of you clean up and fix the damage."
Tom looked as though he was close to taking Harry's hand to lead him away. An odd sort of fog was interrupting Harry's thoughts and sight, spinning the world along behind it. Harry was begging to feel ill. He felt as though he should be allowing his nose to bleed. He felt that by stopping it he was causing worse problems.
"You've done well this evening, Jonathan," Tom said to him. "I believe you've earned some well-deserved rest."
This was Tom's way of giving Harry the excuse to leave. The Knights said short words of congratulations for Harry's success with the Inferi, soon leaving him alone with Tom. It wasn't long before they headed back home, away from the others. Harry felt more ill with each passing moment.
As soon as they reached Tom's house Harry headed for the bathroom. He was barely past the door when he felt the desire to vomit – so he did. It brought back rushes of memories related to when he had created his Horcrux. He felt similar pains of that day returning to him, refreshing his memory as if he had been lucky enough to forget about it so soon. When we was finished he stood up. He didn't want to sit by the floor like he had in that cave as he got rid of his own vomit. He cleaned himself off, clearing the taste from his mouth with a simple spell.
He found Tom watching him through a mirror and caught his own reflection close to it. His eyes had become more bloodshot and wide in recent weeks, which was hardly helped by the drying blood beneath his nose. His skin was rougher than it had ever been before, his hair was all over the place and messy to say the least, and his face had become thin and hollow just like Tom's, now more than ever. Harry didn't look at his own reflection for long.
"What's this happening for?" he asked in a low voice. It was Tom's concern, more than anything, that scared him. He felt better after puking.
"I don't believe it is anything to worry about," Tom said quietly. "It is merely unusual that you should be effected in such a way so soon after the creation of your Horcrux. This is merely an early side affect, a sort of reminder from your body of the adjustments to having less of a soul."
Harry was relieved. He believed Tom and he felt as though his reassuring words were all that mattered. He thought back to the Inferi, and grinned. "But I did well today, didn't I?"
Tom watched his sharp smile, responding with a soft one. "Indeed you did."
Harry turned around, wanting to see Tom closer whilst avoiding his own reflection. "It felt good. I felt like I've finally got the chance to feel the Dark Arts properly. By having control over someone like that, over a possessed being... It was great."
Tom stepped forwards, raising his wand.
"I can do it," Harry said, stopping him. He had evidently wished to wipe the blood from Harry's face.
Tom seemed mildly surprised when Harry rose his own wand. Harry, in private, didn't want Tom to dote on him like this. It wasn't right now, he didn't need it.
"You did brilliantly," Tom told him when the blood was gone. Although Harry was a lot less healthy than he once was, it was obvious that Tom still found him very handsome – even more attractive after creating a Horcrux.
Harry's face broke into a grin again. Without needing to think about it, he kissed Tom affectionately. "I want to do more magic like that. I want to feel that again."
Tom watched him fondly, finding enjoyment in his enthusiasm. "That could be arranged."
"How soon?"
A look of wonder crossed Tom's face. There was a moment where he said nothing, but watched Harry as though he was pondering something curious. "You enjoyed that greatly, didn't you?"
Harry thought he had made this obvious. "Yeah, I did. Those lessons... they're better than I thought they'd be."
Tom seemed greatly pleased by these words.
"I had control over all of them," Harry carried on, "I could have done so much..."
The thought alone flooded him with unforeseen happiness; he felt more powerful that he had ever felt before.
"I can control them all again..."
The sickness from earlier had long-since vanished. The Dark Arts had given him such a staggering rush of emotion, he knew he had to continue feeling the thrill of danger to feel alive. He wanted to give something back to Tom, to take them both far away from the dreary cage of lifelessness, numbness, and helplessness that followed the shattering the separation of the soul.
In a burst of excitement, Harry jumped on Tom. He pushed him backwards vigorously, kissing him longingly and deeply as he pulled at his arms to wrap them closer together. All the while, he pressed his hips against Tom's. He was determined to make it clear how much he desired him. He wanted to repay Tom for the day's lesson, and above all else, he wanted to show just how powerful he was becoming.
Tom's back hit a wall of the bathroom, causing him to exhale sharply. He eyed Harry with a look of surprise and desire, bearing his teeth in a grin. His tongue slid across his teeth. His eyes closed as Harry kissed the edge of his jaw, unable to stop himself from grinding against Tom. He kissed Tom between his movements, already knowing this would feel better than the thrill of the Dark Arts.
Tom was breathing heavily. Harry wasn't doing anything more than pressing against him, kissing him, biting him, but Tom was overwhelmed with desire. His hips met Harry's with every movement, his hands clawed at the back of his shirt in an attempt to tear it off. It was clear that he wanted to take over, but Harry wouldn't let him. He continued kissing and licking him in a rhythmic pattern, holding him against the wall roughly. He lowered his hand to Tom's navel, and lower.
Every breath was audible; Harry wanted Tom more with every gasp and groan he encouraged. His head was spinning. He didn't need to go much further than this, even if he was well aware this was only the beginning of the evening. He had forgotten about the pain he had gone through with Horcruxes, he couldn't bring to mind thoughts of the rush of Inferi, and he had no memory, now, of the nosebleed that had brought him here; all that mattered was that Tom was so eager for his touch.
But the nosebleeds didn't stop. Even as weeks passed, the same bursts of unexpected injuries would happen. Harry would wipe the blood away from his nose hurriedly, discomfited by it's appearance yet again. His eyes still worsened since his Horcrux, and although he hadn't noticed it yet his face was beginning to catch a darker air about it. His eyes remained wide and staring a lot of the time, his hands would shake at involuntary moments, and the vomiting – the vile, pungent, blood-filled vomiting – would keep him up for hours at night, occurring without obvious reason.
Tom was teaching him well how to hide it, appearing calmed only by the belief that this was a small price to pay for Harry's immortality. Each time it happened Harry found himself startled, wishing this would be the last of it as he wasted no time to begin forgetting about it. This was the tip of the ice-burg, however, for Harry was going through serious mental changes without even realising it.
When Tom was away, Harry would sit restlessly in his house or with the Knights, feeling as though every minute had stretched into an hour. With the knowledge that he had forever to live, forever to do anything he wanted to, time had become quite a different concept. He felt no remorse at the idea of wasting weeks at a time accomplishing nothing, yet every moment that trickled by felt torturous to him if he was doing nothing of interest. Gone were the days when he could sit in a room and think for hours, all he wanted was constant activity. He needed it.
Whether or not this was just to escape his own thoughts, Harry wasn't sure. His mind wasn't what it used to be and he couldn't just think about the past anymore, he was too intent upon finding amusement for the present. He understood, suddenly, why Tom set so much work for himself, why he was constantly organising training for the Knights and planning attacks against Grindelwald's people; he needed the stimulation. He was addicted to it and he could no longer stand boredom.
In the weeks that past, Tom taught Harry so much about the Dark Arts. He had taken him on so many dangerous adventures to hunt down Grindelwald's people, to search for rare magical creatures, and to find odd objects and wizards to collect and talk to about magic, Harry regretted he hadn't done any of this sooner. He had seen so many new places and had helped in so many tasks, he wished he could be doing it constantly.
By a month and a half after Harry's Horcrux was created, they had found wild Giants. A small group of Knights flying over the mountains had spotted them first. It was out of sheer luck and good timing; they had seen a few of the fifteen Giants stepping out of their home deep within the caves. Tom was overjoyed. Upon further investigation he came to learn that they were indeed wild. He had seen many groups of Giants as such wandering Albania, and now, finally, some where his to take.
There was a problem in Harry's eyes, however. Although Tom was excited to begin getting the Giants to join forces with him and the Knights of Walpurgis, he wasn't willing to do anything before fighting Grindelwald's people. He wanted to spend another months planning to attack Grindelwald's Fortress, and in contradiction to Harry's personal thoughts on the subject, Tom didn't think there was time to use the Giants.
Harry, however, wanted them to gain their trust as soon as possible. He wanted to see the creatures towering above him at twenty feet tall, or more, their brutal faces and terrifying voices sending the Knights into a panic, making them fear the power that rested beneath their think skin. The idea of spending a month doing nothing but writing plans was an awful idea, in Harry's opinion. He wanted everything to happen now, to fall into place as soon as possible in order for the situation to change soon.
He was at his house with Tom, mulling the situation over in his mind. Tom was currently concentrating on reading. Harry couldn't find books interesting enough to distract him from his boredom, even if there were many Dark Arts subjects that normally caught his interest through Tom talking about it. He couldn't stand the silence. It had been this way for too long.
"Is there any news of Grindelwald's people?" he asked, unable to help it.
"Nothing new, no." Tom didn't look up from his book. "Why do you ask?"
"I heard Avery going on about how few of them there are left," Harry explained, "I thought that maybe they're almost all gone?"
"There are still quite a few of them," Tom said, turning a page idly, "it'll be a few more weeks before they're all gone."
"Because you want to plan how to attack them?"
"Indeed."
Harry wished Tom's plans had changed by now. He had asked this question a lot, hoping a new answer would be given. "That's a long time to wait, for all the training."
Tom might not have heard him. The Giants would be a fantastic addition to their small army of Knights, Harry thought, to ensure they would have no chance of losing the fight. All Harry wanted, in truth, was something to be excited about. Helping to train the Giants would be so much more exciting than setting out plans for a month, even with lessons in the Dark Arts.
"What don't we get the Giants now?"
Tom's gaze rose up. It was a suggestion, not a question. "Now?"
"Well, soon," Harry said, knowing this was more rational. "If they're just waiting up in the mountains... then why not?"
Tom paused for only a second before musing this. He didn't often rethink his plans. "It would be a lot of hard work to gain their trust so soon," he mentioned slowly. This was evidently his main concern.
"Not for us," Harry pointed out, "you and I both know how we'd go about making those Giants trust us."
"It could interrupt with our planning, could disrupt how soon we attack Grindelwald's Fortress."
"But they'd make us stronger, wouldn't they? It's so important for us to get them as soon as possible – if we don't talk to them now, who knows what could happen in a month? Someone else could find them, a Ministry could start keeping track of them."
Harry's words struck worry in Tom. "We could lose a great gift fate has handed us..."
Again, however, Tom was confused by what Harry suggested.
"You seem rather eager to do this."
"I am," Harry said. "I want them gone and I want us to do more."
Hearing his own words was curing all boredom already, so he carried on.
"I don't want to just sit around like this for weeks, or months, or years more like this. I want to get this done, now."
Tom was more interested in this conversation than in the book he was reading by this point. He let the cover close in his lap before placing the book neatly to the side. "You seemed keen for everything to stand still not two months ago."
"I know," Harry said, "but that's over."
"Then I take it," Tom began slowly, his words carefully chosen, "you no longer fear the danger?"
"Not at all," Harry responded. The idea entranced him, somehow. "It doesn't matter – nothing's dangerous to us anymore. These Giants will be so easy for us to take. Now that I've created a Horcrux, all of the fear is gone. We have nothing to fear, but everything to gain."
Something about those words struck victory in Tom's eyes.
"If it's a matter of being scared that the Knights will mess it up, they don't even have to be a part of it," Harry carried on. "It could just be us. We could get to them and could convince them to join us on our own. We need to do this Tom. We need to finish this war with Grindelwald's people and to move on from where we are. The Giants are going to make us stronger, this is what we were meant to do!"
It was clear that Harry was quickly convincing him, he could see it in his eyes, in the way he sat in contemplation. Tom was listening to everything he said, and was going to follow his orders.
"Can't you feel it, Tom?" Harry then asked in a whisper.
Tom was quiet. He was visibly pulled out of his state of thought and put into a state of wonder. There was no need for him to have to ask what Harry was talking about.
"We need those Giants," Harry persisted in the same soft voice, never looking away. "We need their power."
They understood each other without explanation. Tom's eyes were wide with joy and realisation. He understood that Harry craved the danger like he craved it. Tom had valued his plans over his own wishes in fear of overwhelming Harry. It was as though he had been waiting for a sign, and this was it. "Of course..."
Identical smiles spread across their faces.
"We will likely need the Knights to help," Tom said, "yet as you suggest, too many of them will indeed get in the way. We shall choose a handful of them to accompany us to the mountains."
"We should send some of them to find presents to bring to the Giants -"
"- and with such a gift in hand they will accept us within good time. We could offer for them to stay here, in this land. We could offer them protection from the Ministries, offer all the food, shelter, and items they could ask for."
"It'll be perfect," Harry said. "We'll have everything we need."
"A few may fight for us, but we needn't have all of them in combat," Tom added.
"It wouldn't matter," said Harry. "All that matters is that we have them on our side."
"I couldn't agree more," Tom breathed. He was shaking his head in wonder, more joyous than Harry could hope. "I will do anything to make you happy, my love..."
That night, and throughout the day following, the two of them began setting out plans for a series of trips to the mountains. They chose their Knights carefully, going to each individual one over the next few fays to begin informing them of the recent plan. After this, they continued to focus also on getting the Knights, Dragons, Inferi, and future Giants ready for battle against Grindelwald's people. Harry helped with this far more enthusiastically than before. He had a feeling he would no longer become bored, and neither would Tom. They had the thrill of war to look forwards to now.
