64 – Greater Things Await
Winter had fallen heavily over Hogwarts Castle. The corridors Harry strode through became progressively colder as he continued on, getting further away from the heart of the school. He had arrived through the Entrance Hall, which was decorated in the theme of Christmas for the enjoyment and amusement of the students and teachers alike. Barely any students remained at Hogwarts over the Christmas Holiday, however, and Harry didn't need the Invisibility Cloak that was folded up in his pocket. He met no one on his way through.
The torches burned low throughout the castle. It gave the entire place an air of sleepiness in these early hours, whilst the snowflakes piled up on every window ledge made it feel comfortable and protected. Harry's footsteps were the only clear sound. The snow outside fell so thickly that it curtained any view from clear sight, working on top of the already vast darkness of the dead of night. Harry had travelled to Hogwarts with Tom, but he had entered the castle alone. He enjoyed the feeling of being independent in this way – almost as much as he enjoyed the act of trespassing itself. He felt powerful.
He was soon to become the most powerful wizard at Hogwarts, and this, amongst many things, made his heart pump in horribly pleasing excitement and ecstasy. He was going to take revenge on Dumbledore, finally. It had taken years, but this was his sure chance to make things even. He was the greatest evil within this school and Dumbledore would soon know. He was going to move on to do great things by weakening Dumbledore, using his power for himself. The happiness at this prospect made Harry breathe in deeply in joy, his breath shuddering – but he stopped.
Familiar smells of the castle met his nose. Memories of Christmases spent with Ron and Hermione distracted his mind at the scent of damp stone and snow... He pushed the thoughts away. Greater things awaited him in the future, he knew. Compared to all that he had suffered through in the past, the future was going to be brilliant. As Tom often reminded him, he was finally going to be in control of his own life, his own fate. This was the first, simple step to that. He and Tom were going to become great...
He reached Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore's bedroom would be right behind it, locked with magic that Harry would have to get past. When he reached the door, Emeric's wand in hand, he began silently breaking down the enchantments. It wasn't difficult; Dumbledore didn't need any magic stronger than what was normal taught to the students here. Tom had given Harry suggestions of what type of magic Dumbledore might have used, despite Harry's assurances that he could work it out himself. Harry was a little annoyed at the thought as he worked on the magic, thinking. He felt unusually calm, but this slight annoyance got to him.
He didn't want Tom to feel the need to guide him with every piece of magic, every important moment... yet he knew Tom likely couldn't help himself. He told the Knights how to do everything, after all. He even went so far as help some of them acquire houses in England. Over the last two months, most of them had fled from Albania to come live here instead. They had travelled a long way, and for Harry it was just for this. He draped the Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders, pulling up the hood. The lock clicked.
Reaching out a slow, steady hand, be began to push the door open. He took quiet steps into the darkness, allowing the door to swing shut behind him under a Silencing Charm. He stood in the middle of the room, examining his surroundings in the dim light. It was full of bookshelves, globes, maps, tall candles, strange ornaments, and a wide, chipped mirror. Blood began tearing through Harry's veins so sickeningly, but he found so much enjoyment in it.
He had been waiting for this moment for such a long time. It was going to change any odd feelings he felt by carrying Emeric's wand, feelings he'd much prefer to shred altogether, rather than to understand. It was going to be brilliant... He felt like a child as he tried not to laugh at the entire situation.
In front of him rested Dumbledore, visible in the low light being cast by a small fireplace opposite his bed. Dumbledore lay facing Harry, fast asleep on a small bed carved in dark, elegant wood. His breathing appeared even and calm, unaffected by the arrival of his unwelcome visitor. He had no idea what was happening as he slept, and this would remain so. Harry would remain a mystery for so long... Dumbledore's glasses had been removed and placed on a small table beside his bed, and there, sitting beside it, was the Elder Wand.
Greedily, Harry moved forwards. He had to stop himself; he had made too much noise. Frozen beneath the cloak, he examined Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore hadn't moved a muscle. This might have pleased Harry regularly, but somehow the enjoyment he took in all of this was faltering. There was something different about this situation now that he was closer. If Dumbledore did indeed wake up at the sound of his footsteps... but Harry decided not to think about it. The Elder Wand was lying right there, waiting for him to take it...
Tom had advised him to be as quick as possible, but Harry found he was unable to move. He didn't know whether it was out of caution or fear, but he was hesitating. There was something about that wizened, old face before him... He couldn't understand how it was affecting him, stopping him. His eyes kept flickering between the wand and the aged wizard. He wanted that want very, very much... How could Dumbledore alone stop him by just being here?
He took forced steps onwards after a moment, feeling as though he was fighting for it. It was as if he had been subtly cursed. He reminded himself that he was wasting time. He forced himself to stop glancing at Dumbledore altogether, because somehow this distracted him. It played at his minds in odd ways... He needed the wand. He edged closer to it, reaching a hand out from beneath the cloak. His fingers were trembling. He didn't understand why. He didn't feel any joy about the act of stealing the wand anymore, certainly not enough to overwhelm him like this...
Then, before he knew it, the Elder Wand was in his hand. Dumbledore remained asleep. Harry stood frozen. The wand pressed against his palm, gripped tightly in his fingers. He had the Elder Wand, the Deathstick... He had won...
He began turning away, grinning madly to himself. Realisation for his success was taking over, leaving him full of a desire to flee the room, to find a place to express his joy loudly and honestly. Tom would be waiting for him – he felt like running to him. He wanted to jump into Tom's arms already, to celebrate his terribly easy success in any way he could. No longer would he have to use the wand of a man he had murdered; now he had a far more powerful weapon. He was a Master of the Elder Wand without even having to defeat Dumbledore.
He was at the exit to the room. He put his hand on the ancient latch swiftly, wanting to slip out quietly to shout and run with joy, but he was forced to stop. The smile dissolved, stolen from him. His breathing ceased, imprisoning the breath in his lungs. The door was locked...
In one movement, he spun around and pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, his wand raised. He felt as though he was going to vomit from the fear that rose up in him; he couldn't remember feeling this without pleasure since making a Horcrux. It was worse than he could remember; he had forgotten what terror was, had forgotten so many memories that were now clogging his mind in understanding. He didn't know how it was was possible to feel this way...
The Elder Wand was gripped tightly in his clenched hand, but his legs were shaking as he stared into the face of Albus Dumbledore. He experienced so many lost feelings all at once as he glowered. He was breathing heavily, watching the old wizard stand slowly. Nothing about this was even remotely satisfying. He wondered if Dumbledore was using magic to make him feel this way.
"Ah... Hello, Jonathan. How nice of you to visit me so unheralded this fine night."
Dumbledore spoke so calmly, he might have been expecting Harry here after an invitation to a pleasant afternoon tea. It was so familiar that for the first time in memory, Harry felt scared by Dumbledore's every move. How could he remain so calm when Harry felt as though this horror would kill him?
"Let me out!"
"After seeing you for the first time in almost three and a half years? There are many things we are in need, perhaps, to speak of, for much can happen in such a stretch of time... It would be a waste if you were to leave again so soon, Jonathan."
The door must lock itself again when it's closed, Harry thought. He wished he had thought of this before. He wasn't sure if he'd able to break the magic quick enough to avoid getting stopped by Dumbledore. Harry had Emeric's wand, yes, and the Elder Wand, Dumbledore surely had his own wand around here somewhere... Harry was panicking and his expression betrayed him.
"It seems as though you simply vanished in the night two years ago, after a year and a half since leaving Hogwarts. Am I correct?"
Harry wished his body would remain still; he couldn't pretend his trembling was the result of the cold. "I have nothing to tell you," he said, wishing his voice was as strong as he intended.
"From what I understand," Dumbledore carried on placidly, "you had attained a job at the Daily Prophet after Hogwarts – an achievement that impressed your old Professors quite a bit. Many of your other school friends appeared to acquire jobs that were mediocre to say the least. Tom, for one, was rumoured to be working at a small shop in Knockturn Alley by the name of Borgin & Burkes."
"You s-seem to - to know a lot about this," Harry commented coldly. He spoke at an uneven pace in an attempt to stop his voice from shaking. It was to no avail, despite his quietness. "I s-see you like to keep track of the boys you taught at H-Hogwarts, then."
"I take as keen an interest in the lives of my pupils as any Professor at Hogwarts – and rather less than that of Professor Slughorn, who simply can't resist talking at length about the lives of his old Slug Club members." Dumbledore smiled tranquilly. Despite being awoken so early, he was fully alert now due to his earlier surprise. "Tom was one of his very favourite pupils, as you are surely aware. No one can deny the fact that such a sudden disappearance of the two of you was very unusual; it struck curiosity amongst our staff here at Hogwarts, thus was spoken of often.
"I assume that, naturally, the two of you went away together. The timing is, of course, too close to be mere coincidence, amongst other reasons. What is more, many of your old classmates disappeared on and off six month later, until – by a year since your departure from Diagon Alley – it seemed that many old students who had been in close connection to Tom were nowhere to be found, rarely visiting England during the period of a solid year."
Harry said nothing, but continued to glare. Dumbledore seemed to have been keeping a very close watch indeed over the lives of Tom and his dedicated 'friends'. He wondered with a sickening feeling if Dumbledore had been expected to meet him like this, preparing information over the last few years on his theories. Most likely, none of the other Professors had brooded much over the subject of his and Tom's departure, but Dumbledore would have considered the idea of something more going on in secret...
"I must assume that, during your travels, you, Tom, and many of his old school friends would have come across various witches and wizards involved in curious activities across countries. From what I understood from our last encounter, Jonathan, you have somewhat of a deeper knowledge of – and somewhat of a connection to – the recently fallen Gellert Grindelwald."
"If you mean that I know you loved him, then yeah, you could say that..." Harry hated how Dumbledore talked around subjects like this. The anger that rose up in him felt better than the other feelings distracting his mind. He decided to hold onto it.
"What I mean is, it would be foolish of me to deny the fact that you reacted quite peculiarly to the subject of Grindelwald... It is only to be assumed that you have been somewhat involved in the recent activity concerning his following. The timing is again too close to be considered coincidence alone."
"We aren't involved with Grindelwald's people!" Harry spat, understanding now what Dumbledore was saying. This annoyed him too, deeply, and it took away from his fear. "We weren't exactly going to start following Grindelwald after his downfall, that wouldn't make sense. He lost followers, he wouldn't gain any."
Dumbledore's head tilted up a little. His his sharp blue eyes shone with curiosity as his previous suspicions were contradicted.
"Yet with Avery's recent appearance in the news... It was clear that he knew precisely who Grindelwald's followers were. It seemed rather more probable that he was involved with them, that he had created an excuse after being found with them in Germany... I assume now that you must have been fighting against Grindelwald, rather than for him. What a curious thing, that two very different wizards, like ourselves, could be fighting such a powerful dark force for two very different reasons..."
It was quite unusual, when Harry thought about it. What was more unusual, however, was that Dumbledore had gotten all of this completely wrong. He had believed Harry and Tom had joined Grindelwald. But why? Did he think it was to spite him? Or did he think that Harry had known a lot about his past with Grindelwald because he, Harry, could have been in close connection to Grindelwald?
Dumbledore had been thinking about all of this a lot, at any rate. How else could be piece together that so many old students had gone missing for the same reason? How else could have recognised how unusual it was that Avery was perceived as a hero in the Daily Prophet after attacking three Dark Wizards alone in the middle of Germany... Harry felt as though he had to say something to defend his claim that they weren't involved with Grindelwald's people.
"Yeah, well, Grindelwald made a lot of enemies in his time."
"That he did..."
Harry hated the way Dumbledore surveyed him next, scrutinizing his appearance for signs to indicate what had happened these last few years. He was trying to suss out what was going though Harry's head. Harry might have been scared to hear Dumbledore make theories on what he, Tom, and the Knights had been up to, if it weren't for the fact that he felt completely safe knowing that this information would be useless to his old Professor. Tom had reminded him this reassuringly, perhaps enjoying this chance to voice his thoughts so gloatingly.
Harry gripped the Elder Wand a little more tightly. He had lowered it during the course of this conversation, but as his fear grew into a stronger sense of anger he felt a deep desire to threaten Dumbledore.
"Tom was never a follower," Dumbledore mentioned after thought. "I should really have considered this before assuming he was helping Grindelwald's following. It is certainly something that I believe many of his friends would have been drawn to – an older, more experienced group involved in that sort of magic – but Tom... he's a skilled young man on his own."
"Tom doesn't need to be told how to use magic," Harry said in a low voice. "What did you think, that he's just going to spend years listening to the followers who stuck around after Grindelwald's downfall?"
In this moment, Harry came to realised that it was no surprise at all that Dumbledore was going to refuse the Defence Against the Dark Arts post to Tom. He knew this wasn't helping, but he understood that nothing he did was going to change anything in history anyway...
"I don't believe you are a follower either, Jonathan."
Dumbledore had ignored everything he said.
"What makes you say that?"
"It was clear, in your only year here at Hogwarts, that you interacted differently with Tom's group of friends. You seemingly felt no need to please nor to impress any one of them, not even Tom. Your behaviour was that of a student who would have surely struck ire in Tom, had you not been the way you are, had you been a follower instead. You were a puzzle, a powerful challenge, for Tom to conquer for his own gain."
Harry's face twisted into an expression of loathing. Was that all Dumbledore thought of his and Tom's relationship? That Tom had found him mildly interesting as a subject, so had wanted to find out more about him?
"You've come a long way following Tom these last few years, Jonathan – and I'm sure you've been following him this entire time. You are not like Tom's old school acquaintances, but you have nevertheless allowed him to lead you for a number of years now with, apparently, no revolt."
"What, you think I've just been trailing after him for no reason all this time? I found love, Dumbledore! Unlike you, I found someone who actually cares!"
"Does he care, truly?" Dumbledore asked.
"Of course he does!"
"He doesn't go against your wishes? He listens to you when you make pleads and demands regarding subjects that you are particularly opposed to?"
"Of course he – how could –"
"Does he appear to listen to you, only to return another day bearing news of a crime that went against your now forgotten wishes, Jonathan? Against the promises he swore he'd keep?"
Macnair flashed into Harry's mind. "SHUT UP!"
Dumbledore did. Harry had taken angered, violent steps towards him, his wand pointed to his face. His expression silenced Dumbledore above all else, but instead of striking fear throughout the lines of the Processor's face, nothing changed. He was merely thinking.
Harry tried very hard to suppress thoughts of Macnair, feeling odd feelings chasing him within his own troubled mind. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his face contorted in fury.
"You don't know what you're talking about..."
"Jonathan... relationships like yours often work in exactly the same way as others like it, with the same mistakes and rationalities to contradict everything you believe in at heart. Throwing away your instinctual habits, going against your very nature for the love of a man who cannot satisfactorily keep any of his promises, is the result of how powerfully a man like Tom can manipulate and influence, all in a terrible greed for his own desires to be met."
"Since when did you know what I'm like?" Harry asked scathingly. "You don't know me – you don't know a thing about me, nor what I believe in!"
"I know what a terrible thing it is to be abused in love."
"He doesn't – I'm not – YOU DON'T KNOW ME!"
"I know Tom well enough. I know the situation you have faced."
"So what, you think he's tricked me, that he had some reason to keep me for his own gain?" Harry asked through gritted teeth.
"He always appears to do only that which makes him wealthier in power. He has weakened you, Jonathan."
"He's made me stronger!"
"I can see a great change has come over you since last we met. You have made a choice that I can understand more than anyone, Jonathan, for it is a mistake I was so very close to making myself."
"Don't compare me – don't pretend – YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'VE BEEN THROUGH!"
"You have faced a great deal of grief in your lifetime. This much is clear to anyone who takes the time to truly look and listen to you, Jonathan. You were a lonely boy with no one else in the world to turn to, chasing after love in the futile hope that happiness would follow."
"SHUT UP!"
"Too many people are betrayed by the person they love, living a life that isn't meant for them in the hope that somehow they, or the situation around them, will change against all odds."
"DON'T PRETEND YOU UNDERSTAND ME! WE AREN'T THE SAME FUCKING PERSON!"
"Jonathan..."
He spoke so softly that the loathing Harry felt was burning the surface of his skin. He wanted to attack Dumbledore, to strike him again and again to get rid of his own struggles to hear all of this. Dumbledore was waiting for him to calm down. Harry didn't feel any less infuriated as the time dragged on, but the strength he used to clench his wand and bare his teeth in a menacing gesture was lessening his desire to shout.
"Think about what you are doing. It is a mistake."
"You're wrong," Harry said in a low, deadly voice. He was shaking all over in rage now, his glare unstoppable as he attempted to withhold the pure enragement that Dumbledore struck within him. "You're SO wrong – about everything!"
He thought he understood Harry – he thought there was some better situation Harry could have landed in, had he gone against his love for Tom. It was the height of hypocrisy for Dumbledore to accuse Tom of leading Harry through false hope, to accuse Tom of betraying him, when in truth Dumbledore had committed the greatest betrayal. Dumbledore was all lies, and in this moment Harry hated him more than he had hated anyone else upon this earth.
Dumbledore was examining him carefully, appearing solemn as he watched the abhorrence before him. He couldn't know why Harry hated him so much, but he likely assumed it was the general result of Harry going through a great deal of trauma in his lifetime. Harry wanted to attack his old Professor for watching him so steadily, contemplating his rage. He wanted to make Dumbledore hurt. He wanted a real reaction from him past calmness, for once.
"You look more like Tom than ever," Dumbledore said quietly.
Harry waited... waited for the moment when he could attack his old Professor.
"I feel as though... he has made you do a lot of things against your own will these last few years, Jonathan. He has made you much like him."
Harry remained mute. There were so many things he wanted to say to Dumbledore, but he refused to. He breathed heavily through his nose, suppressing it when surges of anger attempted to break through, to make him attack, shout, and hurt the wizard before him any way he could. It wouldn't be wise to attack Dumbledore, however... but he wanted to. Oh, did he want to...
"We aren't so different," he said in a quiet voice that shook with hatred.
"No," Dumbledore commented, "I don't suppose you are, now. He has weakened you."
Harry was trying very, very hard not to let his anger out. "He hasn't – I – HE'S MADE ME STRONGER!"
"In one sort of magic, perhaps," Dumbledore responded, his tone never changing, "but he appears to have forced you, at least somewhat, to believe in all that he believes in. He wanted you only to become like him. He has evidently succeeded thus far."
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"
Harry didn't know how to deal with the feelings raging inside him. Fear and caution for the future were the only things stopping him from silencing Dumbledore for good. Although Tom wouldn't be against the idea at all, Harry forced himself to resist. He wanted to smash everything in sight, to release the binding fury that took over his body, blinding him...
"What does it matter?" Harry suddenly asked, sounding demanding and enraged beneath his contorted expression and gritted teeth. "What could any of this matter to you, Dumbledore, when you don't care and don't fucking know about me?"
"It matters, Jonathan, because no one deserves to be treated as lesser. It is cruel."
"But he isn't treating me as -!"
"I fear as though Tom is using your power for his own gain."
A silence fell. Harry had no idea what made Dumbledore say this. Harry had no power for Tom to take and he certainly hadn't showed any strength towards Dumbledore. Tom had so many followers, he didn't need Harry's power.
"Can you imagine what the world would have been had I joined Grindelwald, Jonathan?" Dumbledore asked in a quiet voice. There was no other noise beyond that of the flickering fire and soft snow piling upon the windows. "Can you imagine what might have happened had the world been faced by not only the wrath of this powerful young man, but joined too with the strength of the only wizard would could defeat him?"
Harry was stunned. A sickening feeling was rising up in his stomach, causing his anger to pause...
They had said he was the only person who would be able to defeat Voldemort in the future... Dumbledore had contradicted everything, of course, saying he had to die, but everyone had believed firmly that Harry was the Chosen One. It was as if he was living the same life of Dumbledore, only completely backwards. He couldn't defeat Voldemort so he had lost everyone he loved, only to find himself now in love with the man that had killed everyone he knew. He was helping him gain power...
What Dumbledore meant now was that Harry was contributing to Tom doing terrible things. He was becoming just as bad as Tom, giving him everything he had including all of his power. He was helping an insane wizard for love, just like with Dumbledore had with Grindelwald... A violent rush stopped Harry's thoughts.
Every inch of his body was shaken by the sudden appearance of force he did not recognise. His chest stung as though every breath he took was pulling shards of glass into his lungs. His arms were aching with a desire for him to let his emotion out, but he couldn't. It struck irritation in Harry in confusion. He stared, his pained, angry, confused face staring into Dumbledore's impassive one. His old Headmaster's eyes shone.
"It isn't too late to leave Tom, Jonathan. It is never too late."
Harry couldn't take this – as soon as this thought reached his mind, he decided to cut out all thoughts concerning Dumbledore's words. It was going to kill him. His chest ached and his head pounded.
"Let me out."
"I understand that it seems like the most difficult choice to face, Jonathan, but there is no avail to staying with a man like To-"
"LET ME OUT!"
"There is much else I wish to discuss with you, first."
"Do you really think – do you honestly believe – I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU THINK! I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!"
His teeth were bared and his breath was ripping at his throat in a result of hatred, frustration, and fear that had returned. He wanted to get out of here, to leave, but Dumbledore kept him where he was in fright. Never once, however, did the thought cross his mind that Tom should save him from this situation. He was thinking how to stop Dumbledore from stopping him.
"You cannot honestly believe that you are going to hurt me, Jonathan. You know as well as I do that the consequences would be many. You will not defeat me in a duel."
"Yeah? Well, last time I checked, I'd taken your wand!"
Dumbledore might not have heard him. His expression became one of deep thought as his piercing eyes flickered between both of Harry's, his mouth held in a thin line beneath his beard.
"It comes as a surprise to me, thinking now, that a wizard as young as yourself would venture off to seek a new wand," Dumbledore said quietly. Despite his even tone, his expression wasn't quite as good at hiding his real worry. "Moreover, I am surprised that it is Grindelwald's wand that you are drawn to. Unless, of course, as your contempt suggests, you have a personal grudge against Grindelwald. In which case -"
"I know it's the Elder Wand," Harry hissed through his teeth. He couldn't stand hearing Dumbledore pretend or hope that Harry was just after this wand for the sake of having Grindelwald's wand.
For the first time tonight, there was no mistaking Dumbledore's fear. Harry found enjoyment in watching this weakness, he enjoyed knowing that he was finally gaining some respect.
"And I have the Stone," Harry said in a very quiet, sickening tone. He stared unblinkingly. "The Resurrection Stone... and this Cloak... you know which Invisibility Cloak this is, Dumbledore, and I bet you've known for this entire conversation..."
Elation was crawling up Harry's skin. This is what he had wanted and he relished in it's arrival – he welcomed it openly. It was causing his heart to thump in satisfaction, overriding all else. His wide, wild eyes to continue boring into Dumbledore's without interruption as the weight of his own realisation was shooting up his spine, causing him to feel light-headed.
As if frightened by his expression, as if in a desire to stop Harry from doing anything irrational, Dumbledore tried to speak. "Jonathan, -"
"With this wand, I have them all! With this wand, I – I..."
It was too much for Harry to take; he couldn't finish his own sentence. A sharp, numbing smile spread across his face, breaking and falling and replenishing itself as different thoughts coursed through his mind. He had wanted this wand because it was the only one that meant anything to him in this era, but now, he realised, he had been collecting the Deathly Hallows. The ring was a Horcrux still, but Tom had given it to him wholly, he had entrusted him with it. All thee items belonged to him.
"I am the Master of Death..."
His expression remained stuck upon his face. Dumbledore stood speechless before him. It was that look that stunned him more than anything else, it made him realise that Harry was insane.
"Jonathan," he began slowly, carefully, "you must understand that in a time of great power -"
"I don't care!" Harry exclaimed. He was suddenly angry again, convince that Dumbledore was going to try and take the wand back from him. "Nothing you have to say matters! I can never be beaten – I can never be defeated now!"
"You have faced a great deal of pain, Jonathan. You have much to be upset about. If you would listen to what I have to say to-"
"I won't!"
"It is easy to become spiteful of the entire world, to blame it for the sorrows you have met, but true power rests in the understanding that in all of us is the strength to gain great happiness, to do what is right. You are a very troubled man, Jonathan –"
"You know nothing about me, nothing bout what I've met! All you want is this wand back, Dumbledore, it doesn't take a genius to see it!"
"You are in no way prepared to handle this sort of power."
"Don't tell me how to run my life!"
"You are stuck with a man who abuses you and takes from you all the power you have, you should be glad that someone, at least, informs you that you are in a one-sided relationship. You cannot carry on loving a man who cannot love any-"
"DON'T!" Harry roared, his whole mind seized with anger. "DON'T STAND THERE AND TELL ME HOW I FEEL – DON'T LIE ABOUT HOW TOM FEELS WHEN YOU DON'T KNOW A THING ABOUT WHAT'S HAPPENED!"
Harry wanted to kill him. He wanted to force that calm face of his to show how he truly felt in the moment of his death. Those sharp blue eyes continued to stare at him, as if reading so much about him beneath the surface.
"Forgive me," Dumbledore said after what felt like a long time. "I did not mean to imply that Tom is not in love with you."
This only made Harry more enraged. He was thinking about what would happen if he did murder Dumbledore. It would be the ultimate revenge for how he had cheated Harry in the past, in the future. It would fix Harry to murder Dumbledore, he felt. It would get rid of this terrible pain that bound him, irritating him beyond belief. Hatred was all Harry knew in this moment. There was nothing else.
"It is curious that you are the one to take this wand from me, rather than Tom."
"How is it?"
"The Elder Wand holds great power, as legend tells. Tom surely would have wanted it for himself?"
"I needed a new wand. He doesn't have to do everything for me."
"I never suggested so... Is Tom as of yet unaware of your rise to sudden, deep power?"
"What does it matter? What's any of this information to you, Dumbledore?"
"You know what power not only the Elder Wand, but also the Stone and the Cloak, possess. You are aware, clearly, that together these three items is said to make one the Master of Death. Yet you have shared none of this with Tom. You have divulged nothing of it's power to him, or else it would be him, and never you, standing here before me now. You may, even, have lied to him."
"So what?" Harry demanded through gritted teeth.
"So," Dumbledore said softly, "it seems rational, by all means, to assume that even you know what a terrible thing it would be for Tom to gain such vast power. You have the sense to shield him from any knowledge of the Deathly Hallows... It would, I fear, be a fate for this world much like that of Grindelwald's rise to power. It would be worse than if Grindelwald remained undefeated still, if Tom had both the Resurrection Stone and the Cloak of Invisibility with the Elder Wand... I do not believe there would be any wizard alone strong enough to stop him."
Harry stood frozen. Here Dumbledore was again, telling him what he feared, making him think about the future and how it could change... He had believed firmly, lately, that nothing he did could possibly change anything later on, but what Dumbledore said was scaring him. He didn't know how, but it was. The possibility was still there, it was still haunting... Tom had never known about the Deathly Hallows... What if something happened and he found out? What if he hated Harry for keeping this information from him, if he thought he had been betrayed? What if Harry didn't mean nothing to this era after all...
"Jonathan," Dumbledore said in a quiet, pleading tone, "Tom is a master of manipulation, he is a young man with far too much skill and talent in both the art of persuasion and magical ability. You cannot accurately defy him on your own."
Harry didn't understand the power Dumbledore had over him. These feelings were like an attack to him. "I don't have to defy him!" he shouted, glaring. But his glare was weak. His heart was hurting and his chest burned.
"If you wish to take the Elder Wand from me, I am, sadly, in no position to object... With the Deathly Hallows, Jonathan, you have a power that is perhaps greater than that of any other wizard alive... I must confess that I cannot fight you."
"You've lost," Harry told him. He wanted to sound gloating, but he couldn't. "You've lost everything you've earned..."
To his utter bafflement, Dumbledore smiled. "My dear boy, there are greater things upon this earth than a weapon of such power. Knowledge is, after all, ultimately stronger still – evident by Grindelwald's defeat, amongst others. I desired the Elder Wand only to be sure that no one else would take it. I have evidently not succeeded in perusing this wish, but I am not interested in what you will do with the Wand alone."
A look of sorrow fell across Dumbledore's face.
"The Deathly Hallows as three, however, are a little different... I care only that they could fall into worse hands – hands that are indeed often close to your own..."
No matter how hard Harry tried, he couldn't take power in seeing this sort of weakness in Dumbledore. The grief was so pronounced, with so little change of his actual features. Harry could feel it radiating off of Dumbledore, unrecognisable to him if it hadn't been something that he bad been forced to feel a taste of earlier in this conversation.
"I beg you, Jonathan... Tom cannot know."
Harry's rage was gone. He didn't know how this was happening, but there was something about seeing Dumbledore show such fear, sorrow, and despair. Dumbledore had been close to being like a father to Harry once. He had been a guardian to him. To see him now, standing in this cold, quiet room, pleading that he take caution...
Harry felt sick. His smile had long since faded as he continued to face Dumbledore silently, his jaw clenched against the pain he was facing. His mind was numbed, was sending pain throughout his body as thoughts crossed his mind doubting Tom's love, fearing his power... He wanted to be happy again, to go back to the glory of having the Elder Wand, but the new texture of wood against his palm did nothing beyond sting him in his tightly clenched fist. He was ill, physically ill...
Then Harry felt it. It hadn't happened in weeks – it alarmed him more than he could have expected in such a short burst of time. He flinched from Dumbledore as if he had been struck, trying and stifle the blood that dripped down thickly from his nose. The liquid poured all over Emeric's wand, through Harry's trembling, clawed fingers as he gasped in fear. It doubled his panic, making him stumble as the emotion Dumbledore had struck earlier worsened too. The only thought that ran though his mind as he felt the blood continue was that Dumbledore had broken him.
His body shook worse than ever. He felt as though he was surely going to faint. Emotions were pressing upon him, pushing him over, catching him and pulling him in all directions. The worry that gripped him was reckless, a terrible worry. The sorrow and confusion that came as one, and the fear and despair that did too, was killing him where he stood. Never once did Harry shed a tear, never once did he allow any of his emotions to be shown openly; they tore through his body like a storm, trying so hard to grow and break free, but he fought them. It was only in his terrified eyes.
He had to leave; this was all he knew. Forgetting that Dumbledore might have his real wand hidden in here somewhere, Harry faced the door, tearing down the magic if it wouldn't let him merely blast his way through. In his panic, his strength seemed stronger than it was before, he thought, but in truth it was The Elder Wand that enhanced his magical ability. He hadn't thought of this before – he hadn't thought Dumbledore would merely stand there and do nothing, watching him go. If he said something, Harry couldn't hear. He was hurrying out of the room already.
Shock blinded him on his way through Dumbledore's office. He had to get out of here as soon as possible. Through corridors outside, the same familiar smells of Hogwarts reached Harry's nose, reminding him of the years he had spent here as a boy, Ron and Hermione by his side all the way along. He had hated Hogwarts for this, on some level, when he had taken his last year of school here four years ago; it reminded him of everything he had lost. The memories seemed to chase after him as he threw on the Cloak, holding the Elder Wand in his blood-free hand.
He was in the Great Hall before he knew it, then out on the grounds, then at the gates to Hogwarts. All along the way he barely had time to think. He didn't want to think and he certainly didn't want to feel. When he saw Tom's figure in the darkness, black against the falling snow, he felt a little calmed. He headed towards the shape, seeing Tom's face covered by the hood of his black cloak. After a minute or two, he took off the Invisibility Cloak.
"Harry," Tom breathed. In the light of Harry's wand, Tom's face was visible beneath his hood. "I was becoming worried."
Harry walked closer. Tom's smile dropped.
"What happened?" he asked. He stared in shock.
"Nothing. I got the wand, Dumbledore woke up, but I -"
Tom was already standing close to him. His hand was raised as if he wanted to touch Harry, but he was hesitant. He stared in fear. "What did he do to you?"
Harry realised, then, that he was still covered in blood. How he had forgotten about this, he had no idea, but Tom's eyes burned in panic and anger. "It wasn't Dumbledore," Harry told him, "I just had a nosebleed."
"Don't turn away, let me have a look at -"
"I'm fine, it's just a nosebleed."
"This should not be happening once more. I thought it had stopped – let me clear it for -"
"I'm fine!"
He had said this with such force, Tom was shocked into silence. He watched Harry with his wand still held up, evidently waiting for a sign to understand why Harry had refused. He did nothing but wait, thinking. Neither of them spoke.
Harry felt guilty for shouting at Tom but he didn't know what to say. He looked away, clearing the blood from his face. He didn't know what to do to change this awkwardness. "I got Grindelwald's wand, that's all that matters. Dumbledore couldn't do anything about it..."
"Why do you refuse my help?" Tom asked quietly.
"It's nothing, it was just a nosebleed – and anyway, I don't need you to help me."
"Why not?"
Harry gave no answer. Tom was confused, but there was no way he could lessen his curiosity accurately. Harry didn't want to be treated like a child. He didn't want to be looked after anymore. The fact that Dumbledore had said that he was following Tom, that Tom was dragging him along, made this all the worse. He didn't want to be lesser than Tom. He didn't want to be seen as weaker, as needing Tom's help...
It was how Tom was taking his power from him. The thought hit Harry so suddenly, he felt those odd feelings rising in him again. Tom was watching him carefully, but Harry couldn't tell what he was thinking. He wanted control over Harry... or did he just care enough to want to help him? Harry had no idea anymore. This is what Dumbledore does, he thought, this is why he should stay away from him for as long as possible. He infected Harry with all these doubts, all these worries that hadn't existed before...
"Are you alright?"
Harry realised he had shown a look of sorrow to Tom. He tried to pass it off as nothing, his expression dropping as he looked away. "I'm fine..."
"What did Dumbledore say to you?" Tom asked in a low voice.
"Nothing, he just wanted the wand back."
"What did he say?" Tom repeated a little more insistently, seeing through Harry's shaky lie. "If he has fed you more lies, if he has forced you to believe his -"
"It's nothing, Tom. I don't need your help – I don't need you to concern yourself with everything that happens to me! I can look after myself!"
It was the same angry tone Harry had used before. He regretted it again, but again he couldn't have helped it in that moment, as the conversation with Dumbledore pained him. He couldn't think how to fix it – nor his worry and his anger. Tom stood motionless, his dark eyes staring from beneath his cloak. He was speechless.
Harry couldn't take this anymore. His chest was aching, he tried to breath in deeply and evenly but it was to no avail; he felt like crying anyway. He wouldn't allow himself to, especially not in front of Tom, but he recognised the feeling now. Dumbledore had broken him, but he wasn't going to fall apart before Tom's very eyes. He wanted to run away from this feeling – and this is what he did. Before he had time to think twice about it he turned from Tom, opening the Invisibility Cloak.
It was too late for Tom to ague, Harry had already disappeared from site, was already hurrying away. Tom shouted after him, attempting to work out where he was in the darkness, watching the snow on the ground, but Harry was gone. With an echoing 'crack!', he Disapparated into the night.
The feeling of Apparition added to the compressed, powerless feeling he had faced seconds before. He felt helpless in the knowledge that he couldn't understand Tom. He was zooming off to some distant destination without the time to think. When he landed, feeling dishevelled and unsteady, he found himself in what looked like the middle of Muggle London.
He was on a quiet road. None of the houses were recognisable to him. He supposed this meant that this was a location he had heard the name of without properly knowing. He took off the Invisibility Cloak and began hurrying along the snow-covered pavement, as if he was concerned that Tom would be following him. He regretted leaving Tom at the gates of Hogwarts; he was going to be so worried, so angry...
A few wreaths decorated the dark doors of the tall houses. Harry thought back to the location he had thought this place was. He stopped walking. He realised, finally, where he was. Nott lived here. Tom had mentioned the address when he spoke to Harry about all the places the Knights were living, to inform him of where to find them all. Harry had remembered it because he had reflected how curious it was that Nott chose to live amongst Muggles...
Harry had no idea how he had remembered this, but in truth he was in no position to question it. He could see which house was Nott's. To his surprise, there were lights on in that building, in the floor Nott should have been on. Harry edged towards it slowly. He needed a place to hide... This was truly the last place Tom would ever expect him to be, and despite the hour, Nott seemed to be awake. Harry reflected that he needed somewhere to be to regain his energy... He headed for the house.
He knocked and waited, feeling no hesitation as he stood upon the step. Worse things awaited him, after all, like facing his worry, fear, and sorrow. This was the perfect distraction, it was somewhere he had never been, with a man he got along with, but who wasn't directly connected to his troubles.
He remembered, after a minute, what Nott had said months ago, about how he was there for him if he ever needed him... Whether Harry had remembered this all along or whether it was just to rationalize his own reason to visit Nott now, he wasn't sure, but he didn't care. A lock sounded and the door swung open.
"Oh... hello."
Nott's confusion was immediate. His efforts to hide it weren't insulting, somehow.
"Hello. Can I come in?" Harry asked.
"Sure," Nott said without wavering, but clearly without fully understanding why Harry was here.
He opened the door wider and Harry stepped inside, glad to get away from the cold.
Nott's flat was small but neat, with a high ceiling but not much space beyond that which was needed to navigate through the hallway and within each room. Harry was led into a living-room. It had electric lights rather than torches and fires, which came as a bit of a surprise to him. It had been so long since he had been in a Muggle-like house, lights appears too bright at some points. He felt as though he could hear a high pitch of electricity, which he was sure was the mere result of not being near it in so long. Beyond this, however, the front room was adorned with many magical items.
"This place is only temporary," Nott explained, after catching a look Harry cast the Muggle aspects of the room. "I'll be moving again in a few weeks."
Harry wondered why Tom hadn't helped to get Nott a house immediately, like he had with so many of the other Knights. It wasn't that they couldn't do it on their own, but Tom knew how to make the process speed along (somewhat illegally). Even Lestrange had been helped. "Not many of the other Knights would endure living near Muggles," Harry mentioned.
"I don't see them, I've never met the neighbours," Nott told him. He seemed somewhat uncomfortable. "As I said, it's just before I move."
"No, it makes sense."
He hoped Nott didn't think he making a snide comment upon his decision to live near Muggles. Harry wasn't careless enough to say that he thought it was fine, but he couldn't lie that he hated them. The Knights were so against non-magical people, Harry was sure Nott must dislike them too in some way... yet it was curious, his decision to live here.
"Sit down, if you like," Nott offered.
Harry did so, sitting upon a thin couch opposite a chair Nott moved to. Harry wondered where Tom was now, wondering if he should be more scared or guilty at the thought of Tom searching all possible places for him. With the cloak, however, it would be impossible to chase after Harry. Surely Tom would know this...
"Is everything alright with the Knights?"
Harry nodded vaguely, not giving a verbal answer. What Nott was really asking was whether this is why he was here. Harry was surprised, but glad, that Nott didn't ask him more questions more quickly. Looking up at him now, Harry was a little surprised. He looked even more tired than he had been during their time in Albania, even if he appeared to be making more effort with his general appearance in England, like all the Knights. His eyes were red. Harry watched this for a minute, wondering whether Nott had been crying.
"I'm surprised Tom's not with you. You're normally together in times like this."
"I wanted to be away for a bit," Harry said quietly.
"I see."
Nott didn't ask more about it. Harry wondered whether this was in fear for Harry's rank amongst the Knights of Walpurgis or just in understanding. Somehow, he hoped it was the latter. He knew Nott wanted to know more, to make sense of why he had showed up at his house... but if Harry was here and if he wanted to be away from Tom, Harry supposed his purpose was obvious: to hide from Tom. It was mere coincidence that Nott was awake at this hour.
"I don't mean to disturb you," Harry said. "I only knocked because I saw you were awake."
"It's alright, I wasn't doing anything anyway."
Harry could see this. There was a book besides the chair Nott sat in, but it didn't have any page saved and it didn't look as though it had been put aside due to a mere interruption. It sat neatly where it was. There didn't seem to be much else Nott could have been doing.
"I haven't seen you properly since we visited the Giants," Harry mentioned.
Nott nodded, but gave no spoken response. He was staring into space now.
Harry wondered whether he had caught Nott at a bad time. This didn't make him feel awkward, however; Nott didn't particularly seem like he wanted him to leave. It took a minute before Nott stopped thinking so deeply, perhaps after forcing himself to.
"I was going to make some tea," Nott said. "Would you like some?"
"Sure."
Nott stood up, leaving the room without another word.
Harry wondered what Dumbledore would do about losing the Elder Wand, if he did anything at all. He wondered if the old Professor might try and track him down for it... yet Dumbledore now knew that he had all three of the Deathly Hallows. This had scared him. He knew of their power... Tom couldn't know of their power...
Nott was back after a few minutes. He set a cup in front of Harry on a small table before sitting down, neither of them saying anything after a quiet "thank you" from Harry. The silence was comfortable, held in understanding. The look upon Nott's face was one that Harry felt was similar to his own feelings, in some way. It was clear Nott felt sombre for one reason or another; there was no other reason to be awake in the dead of night, alone in an apartment with nothing to read, nothing to say.
"I'm surprised you're awake this early," Harry said.
Nott watched him carefully. "I'm surprised you were out this late."
"I don't have much reason to be awake during the day by this point. You're working though, aren't you?"
Nott shifted a little in his eat, looking away. "Well... I haven't properly been able to get back into sleeping regular hours. You know how it was for us, in Albania, we'd be woken up at unplanned hours and worked more than normal, depending on what was going on."
"That's why you can't sleep?"
Nott hesitated. "It's one reason, yes."
This still didn't explain the way Nott looked – not only in physical appearance, but in the emotion he showed too... Nott seemed to want to change the subject.
"Why were you out so late?" he asked. "I can tell you haven't just come here from your own place. You're covered in snow."
"There was something I needed to do," Harry told him. His voice was low.
Nott watched him. His expression changed a little, but Harry wasn't sure how. It took a minute before he spoke again, his expression going to curiosity. "Why are you avoiding Tom?"
"I just needed some time to think," Harry said, rising his cup of tea to his lips. He took a sip of the warm liquid.
"So you came here?"
The tea was well made, it was just what he needed after travelling through the cold winter weather."It was the first place that came to mind, I wasn't really thinking."
Nott mulled this over as Harry took another sip. "You Apparated from him, then."
Harry was surprise he had guessed right. He nodded. Nott might have heard him arrive on the street, or he might just have a knack at guessing things as such. There would be no way for Nott to guess where Harry had been with Tom before, however. The thought made Harry's mind wander to the two wands in his pocket.
"Were you arguing?" Nott asked.
"Sort of... but not because he wanted to."
Nott nodded slowly, trying to work this out.
"To be honest, it was all my fault," Harry admitted. "I was just... well, I was worried about something from earlier... Something someone said..."
"Did he not like what they said?"
"No, he didn't know. I mean, he can't of, I got too annoyed before I could talk to him properly about what happened. I shouldn't have talked to that person, really..."
"So, he doesn't know why you ran off?"
"Well... no..." Harry was starting to see that from Tom's point of view none of this would make much sense. Tom would worry that Dumbledore had convinced Harry to leave him...
"He'll be annoyed, if he finds you," Nott mentioned quietly.
Harry couldn't deny this was very possible. His jaw clenched a little in worry as he began contemplating whether he should go back, to at least save Nott from having to meet an angry Tom, if Harry was found here.
Harry regretted running from Tom. The thought made him hate Dumbledore for infecting him with doubt, filling him with reasons to question Tom's motives. A feeling of anger found Harry. It felt more natural to him than other emotion again. Dumbledore had spoken about himself more than Harry throughout that conversation, he thought – he cared about Harry's life only because he thought it was a direct reflection of his own past...
"You should speak to Tom," Nott said. "If he doesn't understand why you left, he can't help you to feel better, and you won't be able to make up. You need to understand each other to sort out what's worrying you."
This made sense, somehow. "Yeah, maybe you're right..."
Harry wasn't sure how Nott could see all this so clearly. Maybe he had been through something close, or maybe it was just that an outsider could understand such situations more clearly. Harry was thinking, also, that he shouldn't allow Dumbledore to weaken him like this. He shouldn't allow Dumbledore to take his power...
"Do you think he truly loves me?" Harry then asked. He looked up at the question, wanting an answer badly. It was the difference between fighting against Dumbledore and scorning him honestly.
"Yes," Nott answered plainly.
"How?"
"Well, you're the only person he's ever seemed to care about. You're one of the only things that really matters to him, clearly."
This was true, Harry thought. It was very true... Dumbledore had just tried to weaken Harry – because that's what Dumbledore did.
"If someone doubted that," Nott said slowly, "they're probably somewhat envious. If they know about your relationship with him and if they've made you doubt it in some way... Well, remember that a lot of people would do anything for a relationship that close, that long-lasting. It's a lot easier to suspect someone you love of being insincere than it is proving they're not. That's why doubt works."
"You're right," Harry said, suddenly sure of it. He felt more awake now, more prepared than he had been when he entered Nott's home.
Tom had never cared about anyone like he had cared about Harry – he should never have forgotten this. Tom talked to him in such loving words, he protected him even when Harry didn't want to be protected, he stuck by him despite having the constant choice to drop him for another man – how had Dumbledore let him forget all of this? Tom had stuck by his side when he was ill, he had looked after him even when he didn't feel like looking after himself... He had dedicated so much time and patience for Harry, without one moment of spiting him for it...
Dumbledore had tried to ruin this for Harry. He tried to take away everything Harry had – and for what? To rationalize why he had left Gellert Grindelwald? He didn't want to help Harry, he didn't even know him. He just wanted control, in a reflection of his own life. Anger was simmering within Harry once again. He hated Dumbledore, he despised him for trying to weaken him in this way. Dumbledore knew nothing, nothing at all about love... he just knew how to let go.
Harry stood up. "I should go back to Tom."
Nott nodded calmly. "Talk to him, it'll help."
"I will," Harry said. He should have thought of this all himself. "I didn't mean to bother you so late, I should have just talked to him anyway."
"No, it's fine. If you ever need someone else to talk to... well, you know where I am, clearly."
"Yeah," Harry said. Then he was grinning. "Thank you."
Nott didn't smile back but Harry hardly noticed. He was watching Harry. Apparently he wasn't used to seeing him smile like this. It took him a long moment before he said, "It's no problem."
Harry didn't wonder why Nott was thinking so deeply. He was turning away, neglecting his half-finished cup of tea. "Honestly, thank you. Have a good night."
"You too..."
With that, Harry was gone. Nott didn't walk him to the door because he understood Harry was in a rush to leave anyway. Stepping out into the cold night and taking out his Invisibility Cloak, Harry closed the door behind him.
He was just putting on the cloak, smiling and thinking what he would say to Tom, when he felt an awful emotion again. He hadn't asked Nott how he was... This was the second time he had regretted this. He wished he didn't...
Choosing to ignore his inner emotion, Harry pushed the thought away, knowing that greater emotions awaited him. He turned on the spot and Disapparated. He was going to find Tom, to talk this through.
