66 - Secrets of Emeric

"With spells like that, Dolohov, you couldn't hit a crowd of wounded Muggles!" Mulciber jeered.

A gathering group of Knights surrounded Harry in the duelling room of his and Tom's home. It was relatively early, 8.30pm, but the sun was setting. Some of the Knights were only just arriving, greeting Tom on their way in, while others had been here for over half an hour, finding those they knew best to stand with.

"Does anyone else want to have a go?" Harry asked, as Dolohov sulked off into the crowd.

Some of the Knights appeared reluctant to respond, whilst others made a game of choosing who should face Harry next, knowing only too well that he wouldn't be defeated in a duel. After a moment of general murmuring and laughing, Rosier was thrown forwards.

Straightening up, he asked, "Shall I make an excuse for my loss now, or later?"

His lips twisted into a smirk as his friends laughed.

Harry gave him a smile too. "Whenever you're ready."

Rosier raised his wand, attempting to look serious. He was already wincing a little, turning at an awkward angle as he faced Harry. He took a deep breath, raising his wand.

"Expuls-"

With a sound like electricity cracking through the air, Harry's spell overrode Rosier's, causing it to explode onto itself in mid-air. Rosier, however, didn't give up.

"Secareileum!"

A shielding charm was up before the spell struck, giving Harry time to attack Rosier quickly. In a blast of purple light his own spell missed the Knight by inches, only being avoided because Rosier had jumped away moments before in anxiousness. He shot a non-verbal spell at Harry, grunting frustration, before throwing another, then yet another while Harry barely even had to defend himself.

"Impedimenta!" Harry shouted.

Rosier flew into the air with the weight of the spell. He fell to the ground on his front in an instant, while Harry stood watching him, amused yet now slightly bored. He thought he should have used a more interesting spell, even as Rosier cowered from how he had fallen.

"We should begin our meeting in a moment," Tom's voice called across the hall. He was watching the battle whilst engaged in conversation with Black. They were amused. "I do believe everyone is here, now."

"Makes sense," Harry said, feeling satisfied after the rush of duelling for the past ten minutes. "One more round though?"

"If you wish."

"Brilliant." Harry grinned. He felt as though he should use some darker magic this time, at least to make it more interesting. "Who's up next, th-?"

"Expelliarmus!"

Rosier had risen from the ground. His face was twisted into a sneer as his determination to get back at Harry triumphed. Harry, who had never expected a Knight to dare attack him when his guard was down, stared. The Elder Wand flew out of his hand.

There was a moment of pause. Everything seemed to be moving slowly as Harry watched Rosier in shock, seeing his expression of glee drain with the blood in his face as he paled.

The next thing Harry knew, he flew at Rosier. His hand was on Rosier's throat, his other fingers clawing their way down his arm to the Elder Wand. Harry was pressing him against the wall of this duelling room as hard as he could. Rosier was choking, his eyes popping as Harry stared down at him with a look of rage, wanting little else than to witness him suffocate at his hand.

"Relashio!"

Harry was thrown back. Rosier fell to the floor, shuddering and gasping for breath, while the Elder Wand remained gripped tightly in Harry's hand. Tom had thrown the spell. His face showed fury and concern as he looked upon the two wizards, watched too by the silent Knights. Harry was fuming, standing meters away from Rosier as he waited for Tom's reaction.

"Follow me, Jonathan," Tom ordered him.

Harry began to do so without a word, wanting to get far away from here.

"As for you," Tom added in disdain, turning to Rosier, "let this be a reminder to you, and to everyone, of the dangers of such weak, cowardly attacks."

If Rosier hadn't so recently been choked to near suffocation, he might have blushed in embarrassment and anger at Tom's words. He attempted to stand as Tom turned away, closely followed by Harry.

"Move to the meeting hall, if you so desire," Tom called to the Knights. "This shan't take long."

They were out of the room moments later. Anger continued to simmer within Harry as he walked. He wanted his hands to be back on Rosier's throat, he wanted to punish him further for daring to even touch the Elder Wand. The frustration was burning Harry's skin, streaking along his forearms and causing him to clench his fists in an attempt to contain it.

Once they were far enough away from the Knights, Tom stopped. His expression was unreadable. This would have been a relief to Harry, had it not been for the fact that he had no idea what Tom might be thinking. Even anger would be better than disapproval, or judgement. Harry couldn't take it for long.

"He shouldn't have attacked me like that!" he said in indignation.

"I know," Tom agreed. "It was the weakest thing he could have done. That's no reason to murder someone, however."

"I wasn't going to murder him."

"The Knights don't seem to agree."

"Since when did it matter what they think? Or what they witness, concerning fights? That's the point of all of this!"

Tom smiled softly. "I know."

Harry stared at him, caught between annoyance and confusion.

"I hope only that you're alright."

"I'm fine. He's pissed me off now, though."

"He only disarmed you, my love," Tom said quietly. "You have sought your share of revenge."

Harry knew he was right, but he didn't want to hear it. He didn't know why he couldn't shake off his anger. All he wanted to do was find Rosier to attack him again.

"I'm proud of you," Tom said softly.

Harry looked up at him. Was this why Tom didn't look angry at Harry, simply because he was proud, instead? It was always hard to tell. Tom smiled .

They were shadowed, partially, as they stood together in a quiet corner of their house, where the dark wood around them encouraged darkness. Nobody else was around to see it when Tom leant in to kiss Harry slowly. He touched Harry's chest, and when he allowed their lips to part, the palm of his hand was feeling Harry's heartbeat.

"I thought you were going to be angry with me," Harry said. "I know I shouldn't have attacked him like that."

"You needn't worry. I would never punish you for something so common amongst our group; the Knights are used to such things."

Harry didn't doubt that, somehow.

"Let us return to the others, however," Tom said. "It is time we began our meeting."

"He just can't do that," Harry said before he could help it. "He can't take my wand."

Seeing, now, that he was still annoyed, Tom took a moment to think. "He has learnt his lesson."

Harry nodded curtly. Tom indicated that he should follow him back to the Knights, and Harry did so without comment. He tried to push thoughts of Rosier out of his mind, but it was difficult to do so, especially as many of the Knights gave him furtive looks as he entered the meeting room with Tom.

The Knights were wandering between the duelling hall and the meeting room idly, waiting for the few minutes it would take before the meeting began. When they saw Tom, some of them began gathering around the long, dark table they would all be seated at shortly. Tom took the chair at one end, as usual, as Harry sat next to him. Harry attempted to overcome his desire to hurt, which wasn't hard when Tom began talking. The meeting lasted a little under an hour.

When it was finished, the Knights stood up, some of them speaking with Tom whilst others waited around talking amongst themselves. A House-Elf that Tom had acquired, who's name was Tweaky, served alcohol and light food. Despite the many interesting things to talk about concerning Tom's work and their daily lives, however, a specific topic continued to pop up amongst the Knights, as it had all week; Lestrange was already getting married.

"He's been engaged for ages," Harry overheard Avery explaining to a few others. "He started seeing Galatea just after leaving Hogwarts, I reckon, but they knew each other since they were children."

"It's good to see Purebloods sticking together," Black commented.

"To say the least," another added.

"It would be a shame if he dirtied his bloodline with anyone less pure."

Harry stopped listening. He had hoped these conversations would die down by the end of the week, but he was mistaken. Although it was Thursday evening and Nott hadn't been to any meetings this week until now, the conversations around him continued to focus on Lestrange alone. The marriage was being rushed, which struck interest for all of the Purebloods, it seemed. Harry couldn't help but wonder whether Lestrange's hurry wasn't for the mere sake of his unborn child.

"I'm surprised she waited that whole time," Avery commented, "what with Lestrange's trip to Albania with us, and so on. Surely she knows he must have cheated a few times with other witches?"

"I don't suppose she cares, even if the thought might have crossed her mind," Rosier reasoned. "It's more important that Purebloods stick together."

Harry watched as Nott stood for a moment, staring into space, before finding a place to rest his drink. His face was blank, but it was obvious to Harry that he was distressed once he began leaving the room steadily. Tom stood on the other side of the crowd in a deep discussion with Weiß about something, so Harry knew he wouldn't be missed if he slipped out of the room for a time. Thinking privately that he still owed Nott something, Harry followed him.

He wasn't sure, at first, which way Nott had gone, until he heard a door being opened along one of the large corridors of this grand house. He headed for the sound, in the direction of the kitchen, and was fast enough to see a door to the garden closing as he arrived. Tweaky had his back turned to Harry as he washed dishes standing on a high stool. Harry followed Nott outside.

It took a moment to find the Knight in the darkness, even if Harry had a rough idea of which direction through the garden he had taken. When he found Nott, he stood with his back to Harry, staring up at the sky. He wasn't surprised when he heard Harry approach. They stood next to each other for a moment, taking in the moon and stars high above them. The sky was clear.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

"It is," Harry agreed.

The moon shone low and bright upon the scene, lighting up the sky strongly and giving definition to the treetops, the garden, and to the two wizards. Nott neither sounded nor seemed upset in this faint light, but Harry wondered after a moment whether the Knight was hiding how he truly felt.

"You and Tom have a wonderful home. It must be brilliant, living together like this."

"I assume you'll have something similar, one day."

Nott attempted a smile. "I have a house now, rather than that flat in London. It's a small family home, my uncle used to own it, and it's quite nice. It's in the middle of the countryside, away from people, but..."

"But it's too quiet," Harry finished. He could understand this. When Tom was away it was already silent within this house; he couldn't imagine what it would be like with no one else ever around.

"Still," Nott said, in a tone that suggested forced vigour, "it's better than living in the city, most of all in London. The other Knights would be more impressed, if they visited."

Harry said nothing. From what he could hear, Nott sounded almost cheerful, with optimism bound to his every word, but as he examined him, Harry could see his bright eyes shining. Harry wondered what he was seeing. It looked like agony, again.

"If I knew they'd talk about him, I would have warned you not to come."

Nott gave that same smile again, looking away. "It's fine."

"It isn't fine," Harry protested. "It isn't fair on you, I know -"

"Jonathan," Nott said calmly, setting aside his sorrow again for this unexplainable tone of peacefulness, "it's alright."

"It isn't fair."

"It's better I get it over with," Nott said. "I wasn't invited to the wedding by him personally, but I'll still have to go with my family even if I'm not his best man. You don't need to protect me."

There were many things Harry wanted to say to this. He felt a desire to express the odd need he felt to help Nott, but he knew it would all sound wrong, it would seem as mad as it felt. He could see that Nott was in pain and it fascinated and confused him all at once, making him feel these odd needs to learn more, to try and understand. He couldn't express this.

"I know you're upset," Harry said quietly. "I know this still affects you."

Nott watched him for a minute. He dropped most of his false expression by this point, trying hard to remain blank.

"You can go, if the others are too much," Harry told him. "No one will notice."

Slowly, Nott nodded.

"I have to go back now, but I can walk you out."

"Thank you," Nott said in little over a murmur.

– X –

Harry felt better by the time they headed back into the house, yet he wasn't sure why. He brought Nott to the front door and they said goodbye, before Harry returned to Tom and the Knights. He spent the evening similar to most nights, talking with the others and standing near Tom as they waited for the house to slowly clear of guests. Throughout the evening, Harry thought privately that he should visit Nott later in the week.

Tom had Nott's new address written down, so it wasn't hard for Harry to find. He often wondered if it was somewhat unusual that Tom kept so much information about the Knight stored away, but he didn't spend much time dwelling upon it. It was Sunday evening when Harry found the right time to go and see Nott again. He lived in a small, beautiful home surrounded by nothing but forestry and vast valleys that stretched out for miles. The house itself was indeed very quiet.

Nott was home when Harry knocked. He seemed a little surprised that Harry was paying him a visit, but he almost seemed used to it by this point, despite a lack of invitation. The inside of Nott's home was warm and decorated in a traditional Pureblood style. Dark woods could be see in every room, resting in front of rough stone and accompanied by handsome portraits of various witches and wizards from throughout the centuries.

"Sit down, if you like," Nott offered as they entered his living room.

It was a very different place to Nott's old flat in London. It had a high ceiling with gnarled, ancient beams running across it, with one wall full of portraits, two others taken up by tall windows, and a forth wall dedicated to a large fireplace that warmed the room easily.

"Would you like some tea?" Nott asked as they sat.

"Sure."

It had been a bright, sunny day, but the sun had set and the evening fell cold. They sat for a moment, both thinking. Harry said a quiet 'thank you', when a cup was handed to him. In the process of all of this, he couldn't help but catch moments when Nott's attempts to look impassive failed. He had been good at Occlumency, Harry knew, but something was affecting Nott from the inside, weakening his skills.

Harry had a flashback, more than once, of Tonks. There was something in Nott's expression that seemed changed, as if there was a part of him missing. It caused him to be visibly weakened. He tried to hide it, but Harry was watchful. He hadn't thought back to the Weasley's house in years, but memories of Tonks forced him to, despite how it felt like a lifetime away. He tried to think how Tonks had gotten over her depression.

Nott might have wondered why Harry was here, but he either forgot to ask or just didn't particularly care or mind. Nott was staring into space, the hot cup of tea apparently not burning his cold hands. Harry decided to speak.

"How've you been?"

"Much the same," Nott said after a moment. He looked up. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Harry said truthfully. He had spent the last three days alone with Tom, being served food by Tweaky and not worrying much about work, or anything. "I had a good weekend."

"I'm glad."

Harry could imagine that Nott's weekend had been quite the opposite, staying here alone and seeing no one, except perhaps some relatives.

"What are you here for, anyway?" Nott asked, as if the tea had given him the energy he had lacked before.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"I haven't got much to speak about, I have to admit."

Harry wondered if perhaps Nott didn't want him here.

"I never thanked you," Harry said. He had no idea what possessed him to admit knowing this. "I want to thank you, for helping me in December."

"It's alright," Nott said shortly. He took a sip of tea.

"Only thanks to you."

"Everyone argues, even in the strongest relationships. I'm sure you and Tom would have worked it out, whatever was bothering you that night."

Harry wasn't completely sure about this. Nott had saved him from feeling alone as he worried, at the very least, and there was no guaranteeing that Harry could have thought it through the same way if he hadn't spoken to Nott. "We argue badly, when we do."

"You love each other," Nott reminded him. "As long as that stands true, as will your relationship."

Harry knew this was true. He inclined his head in agreement, feeling bad that Nott had helped him again. He drank more tea.

He noticed, then, now red Nott's eyes looked. He pondered Nott's weekend once more.

"Your parents and family must be interested in the recent news of Lestrange," Harry said, wanting to start on this subject.

"It's getting better."

"It'll worse again," Harry noted. "It's not long away."

"I know."

Harry wanted to say more, but he didn't know what. The thought dawned upon that he saw himself in Nott, but he couldn't quite place how. The way he acted, the way he reacted, reminded Harry of how he was months ago. It was hard to remember how things felt back then. Harry couldn't emphasize with his old self, nevermind Nott, but he knew that he had once felt similar to how Nott looked. He wanted to know how.

"Why do you care so much about this?" Nott asked him. His eyes shone. "I have to face this, whether I like it or not."

Harry couldn't admit that Nott fascinated him, or that the troubles he faced made Harry want to find solutions, to help. What confused Harry most of all what that while Nott suffered a broken heart from losing Lestrange like this, Harry could see his old self more clearly. Except, he had never lost Tom. How could he have felt the same as a boy with a broken heart, when in the past Tom had been with him all along?

"I want to help," Harry said.

"I'm not a child."

"He's rushing into marriage," Harry pointed out, feeling this was true, "He's blatantly running away from what happened."

"Then let him run."

"But what if it means something else? What if all of this is just -"

"He loves his fiancée," Nott cut across him. "Most of all, he'll love her and his unborn child until his dying day."

This couldn't be denied, Harry admitted to himself reluctantly. "You could be friends."

"No," Nott said firmly. He watched Harry for a moment, his expression worsening. "I've thought it over again and again... I'd rather let go."

The silence pained Nott further. His voice was weaker.

"I wish it were easier... I'm alone, I can't look at anyone the same. I – I don't even have any real friends, while none of my family can understand what's happened. I'm twenty-two years old and I have no idea what I want to do with my life. All that I know, all I ever seem to have known is the Knights of Walpurgis... but it's all so connected..."

An odd feeling gripped Harry as he wondered, now, weather he had made a mistake in convincing Nott to stay a Knight. He had a feeling, however, that even in a new environment, with new people and a brand new life, Nott would feel just as alone as he felt now. So long as his sorrow remained, he was locked in his own mind, trapped there to suffer in anguish for mistakes he could neither be blamed for nor change.

"Why do you care?" Nott asked again, struggling.

"I want to help."

"No one else does," he said.

"I know what's happened," Harry reminded him. "I want to know you're alright."

Nott shook his head as if he didn't believe it. "You're not alright either."

This confused Harry. "How aren't I?"

"You've changed. In barely over half a year, you... you became different so quickly."

Harry didn't know what to make of this. He didn't see how anything had changed. He had become closer to Tom and he was gaining more confidence and respect from others, but he didn't feel as though he himself had changed. He thought back to his Horcrux, however, and reflected that he didn't quite remember things as clearly from before...

"What makes you say that?"

"A few things," Nott said slowly. He was clearly cautious that Harry might get annoyed. "A year ago, you would never have attacked Rosier like that."

Harry had almost forgotten about that. He wasn't quite sure why so many Knights appeared unnerved by this event, but it didn't anger him."Does it make you not trust me?" he asked.

"You lead alongside Tom, I have to trust you."

"But as... as a friend?"

Something changed in Nott's expression. Harry watched him closely, hoping that he hadn't said something wrong, something that Nott didn't agree with.

"Yes," Nott said, appearing almost happy for the first time in months, "I trust you as my friend."

– X –

It was as if this was the excuse Harry had waited for, even if Nott had always welcomed him into his home without reluctance nor judgement in the past. Harry understood, now, that his need to help Nott was due to his wish for them to stay friends, just like they had almost been months ago in Albania. Harry continued to visit Nott without as much hesitance as before.

Nott wasn't happy even after gaining a friend, but after certain conversations it seemed as though Harry managed to distract Nott from his worry. Harry felt great about their friendship, he felt proud that he could almost cheer Nott up fully if he really tried. This didn't cure Nott's sorrow, of course, but it led them to more interesting conversations, giving them both something to spend time on when they had nothing else to do.

The subject of Lestrange never softened. It was a humid May evening as they sat together in Nott's library, talking. Lestrange's marriage was little over a month away; when Harry had arrived here he had met Nott speaking with his aunt and uncle about it, enduring ignorantly enthusiastic comments as he tried to seemingly pretend as though it was all well and normal to him. When his relatives went home, Nott led Harry upstairs, his false expression falling to pieces on the way.

"I don't think I can do it," Nott said quietly. "To see him standing up there, surrounded by his friends and family... It would ruin the day, for him."

"You won't have to talk to Lestrange," Harry mentioned. In truth, however, he felt as though what Nott suggested was for the best. "I'm not sure he'll really care whether you're there or not there, but if you don't feel like you can take it, don't go."

"But my family," Nott said despairingly, "my parents treat him as if he was their son."

"Your family will go either way. It's not as though it's your wedding day."

This didn't seem to help much. Nott looked as though he wished it were.

"Have you ever loved someone, besides Tom?" he asked quietly.

Harry had to take a moment to considered this. "Sort of," he began, thinking hard. "I fell in love with a girl when I was sixteen or so. She was brilliant; I imagined spending my whole life with her, I think. It feels a long time ago now, though..."

"What happened to her?"

Harry tried to remember. "I really don't know... I never saw her again."

Nott didn't push the subject. Harry didn't feel bad thinking back to memories of Ginny, but it confused him that he couldn't recall what had happened to her. He couldn't remember when he last saw her, or what he had last said to her. Thinking back to his vague memories of the Battle of Hogwarts, however, he wondered if it was better this way.

"How did you get over her, afterwards?"

"There were worse things distracting me," Harry said. "I was in danger, I almost got killed. I... I guess I just forgot about her."

– X –

That night, like many nights, ended in Harry and Nott talking for hours, sharing stories about things Harry had forgotten, things Nott had only ever told Lestrange. Concerning Harry and Tom, the more time that passed, the more time they had to be with each other due to the Knights all living in their own homes, enjoying their own lives. Harry spend days and nights at a time alone with Tom at their house, wishing they could stay this way forever.

"Let's travel for a while, together," Tom suggested one evening, laying in bed and holding Harry in his arms. His voice was quiet; it was the middle of the night. They had stayed up together to talk, to enjoy the night in peace. "We can travel the world."

Harry couldn't help but enjoy these words, looking up into Tom's dark eyes from where he lay, his head against Tom's chest. "I'd like that," he told him.

"There are so many places for us to see," Tom said. "We have much to learn about, concerning the world. We can see it all."

Harry moved a little closer, smiling. "We have forever to see the world."

"So why not start now?"

"We should," Harry said quietly.

"We will do great things, my love," Tom said softly, stroking Harry's hair.

"I know," Harry whispered. "It'll be brilliant..."

Tom had plans in mind for places to travel to. They would go away for a few days at a time, never leaving their home for longer than two weeks at a time due to the Knights, yet travelling far nonetheless. Tom met with strange witches and wizards that spoke of ancient magic that became rare or almost entirely forgotten. They saw a great deal of unusual things, meeting odd creatures that Tom wished to study, collecting items and information that would serve them well in the future.

Admittedly, Harry enjoyed the idea that they couldn't leave for too long. There was nothing that felt better to him than to go away to a new place with Tom, he adored the time they spent and took interest in the things they saw, but despite it all he didn't want to leave Nott for too long. He felt obliged, as a friend, to visit the lonely Knight quite often. They got along well, with a totally different relationship than Harry had with Tom. He wasn't sure how, but to have a friend felt very important to him.

"You have a new wand," Nott commented one evening. They were standing together on a porch in Nott's home, looking out across the fields nearby, bordered by a distant forest that met the foot of the mountains miles away. It was a beautiful summer evening.

Harry, who had just conjured two glasses for the drinks Nott summoned, took a moment to respond to this. He placed the Elder Wand back into the pocket of his robes. Nott had an uncanny ability to notice little things like this – a highly Slytherin trait that had doubtlessly led him and Lestrange to discover Harry and Tom's secrets long ago.

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely, attempting to act casual, "I had to get my old one replaced."

"What happened?"

Although almost six months had passed since Harry left Emeric's wand, it seemed as though Nott could recognise the great difference. "My last one broke – it wasn't the first, either. I seem to have a lot of bad luck when it comes to wands."

Nott thought about this, then smiled a little. "I won't ask what magic broke it. With how much you and Tom travel, doing and learning who knows what..."

Harry didn't have to respond; Nott handed him a goblet and they drank together.

"Speaking of magic," Nott said after a moment, "I've been thinking a lot lately, about the Knights in general."

"You don't want to leave again, I hope?"

"No," Nott said, "but that's the thing – I'm not sure if I really could have... well, could have stopped going to Tom's meetings."

"Why not?"

"It's like you said, it isn't really something you can quit just like that. Minus the obvious social reasons, the Dark Arts are... well, they aren't something that can just go away, or something that can be forgotten. I don't mean that they scar me, but... it's like an addiction. I still think about all the lessons Tom held with us, I still want to be engrossed in the way such powerful magic makes you feel. I'm scared that, if I left, I'd end up like Mulciber, or someone – just fucking mental all the time. If I didn't keep going back, learning more and practising, I don't know what would happen to me."

Harry had never really thought about this before. He hadn't been keen upon the idea of practising the Dark Arts for a long time; he never got properly engrossed in it until just before making his Horcrux. Yet this made sense to him. "You were going to leave though, before."

"Only because of Lestrange," Nott murmured. He shook his head after this, as if trying to rid himself of that thought. "At any rate, it just made me think more about how important Tom's work is. I think everyone feels it, here."

"I don't think many of the others think about what would happen if they left."

"No... I don't suppose they do."

"I think," Harry began slowly, but he stopped. He didn't want to push his luck, but the thought bothered him for a moment. He tried again. "I sometimes I wonder what would happen if I hadn't joined."

Nott almost seemed surprised. "I've wondered about that too, before."

Harry knew this. It made him think about something more: Nott had only joined Tom's group because of Lestrange, while Harry had joined merely to be with Tom...

"I thought, once before," Nott began uncertainly, "that maybe there's more to the way Tom teaches us... as in, he knows that it's addicting. Maybe..."

"You think he manipulates the addiction?" Harry asked.

Nott looked a little embarrassed, as if he had forgotten who Tom was to Harry. "No, I mean... it was a long time ago that I wondered this."

In honesty, Harry had wondered it too. "You might not be entirely wrong," he said, "but I honestly don't know. I doubt he's cursed all of you, but if he understood how addicting this power is, he might have used it to his advantage. Either way, it makes no real difference – you all have your own minds."

"This is true."

Harry breathed in deeply, smelling the fresh air as he looked out across the view before them.

"It's odd," Nott said, "sometimes I feel like the Dark Arts have made themselves all I can properly concentrate on. There's nothing else out there, for me..."

"You do enjoy it though, don't you?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

They drank in silence for a moment.

"I just can't imagine life without it."

Harry was thinking about the Dark Arts and his long, reluctant introduction to them. It was true that he and Nott had joined for the same reason, for love. Harry, however, felt as though his adoration for the Dark Arts had strengthened so much recently, making him truly desire that Arts as well as Tom. From what Nott said, the same thing seemed to have happened to him.

Throughout all the years Harry had known Nott now, he had never truly thought about what his views upon the Dark Arts themselves might be. He was a greatly talented wizard, he could do all of the work Tom assigned to him... but as Harry watched him closely now, his tired, bright eyes staring off into the distance as his light brown hair moved in time with the wind, he wondered how on earth this boy could be a Death Eater.

"Have you ever done something unforgivable?" Harry asked. In honesty, he didn't know. Nott had managed to spend the last few years being so talented in the art of impressive magic, Harry had never seen nor heard stories of his killings, his tortures, or any number of other morbid achievements the Knights prided themselves upon.

"I know the Unforgivable Curses, if that's what you mean."

"No," Harry said, "I mean, have you ever tortured someone? Ever killed someone?"

Nott didn't answer for a moment. As he looked at Harry, the latter realised that Nott had become surprisingly better at Occlumency recently.

"I was never the person Tom turned to when he wanted someone tortured or killed," Nott explained. He wasn't embarrassed nor shy to discuss it. "Even in battle, I've been better at controlling creatures or helping plans to work out smoothly, finding the best tactics, working with magic that isn't against enemies, but to help and protect the other Knights. It's the only reason Tom still has me around, I think."

"That makes sense," Harry said after a moment. He wondered how he hadn't thought of it before. It would only be a matter of time, he believed, before Nott would have to face killing or torturing another human. He wondered if Nott would change, like Mulciber.

"Have you?"

"What?"

"Have you ever done something unforgivable?" Nott asked.

Harry tried to think what would be considered unforgivable, concerning all the mistakes he had made in the past. He wanted to mention Emeric, but something about the idea put him off, somehow. "I've never tortured anyone," he said truthfully.

"You killed someone though... I've asked before."

Harry said nothing. He hadn't spoken to anyone, besides Tom, about how he had murdered Emeric. He wasn't sure if he wanted to talk about it. He was curious about how Nott reacted to this fact, for the sake of interest rather than fear. His mind, however, was hard to read.

Harry didn't often think about Emeric. He almost never thought about the actual act of killing him and he chose to forget his immediate reaction, as well as the fact that it had been close to an accident. Now, however, he thought about Emeric as a person. He thought back to before his death, to the little Harry saw of him.

"Do you remember when we talked about if I had dated anyone but Tom?" Harry asked.

"Yes?"

"Well, there is someone else. I never dated him, I didn't even like him, but he tried hard to force me to date him instead. He was... obsessed. I met him just after Hogwarts. It's why a got another new wand."

"So, you fought?" Nott asked. "He broke your old wand?"

"Something like that."

Harry wasn't sure why he was telling him this, but somehow it felt relieving.

"Tom hated him," he admitted, "and I can't say I liked him much more. He was fine at first, he seemed pretty normal, but... I think Tom really scared him. He left work, because Tom made him, and ended up leaving before I even knew what happened. I'm just glad Tom didn't do worse."

"Who was he?" Nott asked.

"Emeric," Harry said quietly. "His name was Emeric..."

– X –

That night, Harry returned to his house relatively early. He found Tom sitting alone in their bedroom, reading upon the bedcovers. He seemed mildly surprised when Harry entered the room, and watched him from where he lay.

"You're home early," he said. "I thought that perhaps you would have stayed out a little longer... I assume you were visiting Nott again?"

Harry didn't miss the slight annoyance in Tom's voice. Surprisingly, however, Tom hadn't yet demanded to know why Harry returned to the Knight so often.

"Yeah, I went to see Nott."

"The third time this week," Tom mentioned.

"It's Saturday, it's not as if I go and see him every day."

For a moment Tom looked annoyed, as if he was about to argue. Harry wondered if perhaps he'd start telling Harry he couldn't go and see the Knight, but instead Tom refrained from showing how this affected him. His expression left him, before he looked down at his book, appearing almost unaffected.

"Nott is a child," Tom said, still somewhat bitterly. "It seems only appropriate that he should be looked after by someone."

"You seem annoyed."

Tom sat up a little straighter on the bed. "I see no reason to suppose that he's any sort of treat. If you must pamper him to stop him from leaving our group and spilling secrets, I cannot stop you from so willingly taking on such an endeavour."

Tom's eyes bore into Harry's from across the room. It appeared as though Tom wanted to refrain from arguing over this, as an insult to Nott as well as in understanding that he had to trust Harry, yet he was no good at hiding his anger. He seemed close to threatening Harry more deeply against going to see Nott, but he wouldn't. He was aware that Harry would go either way.

"You visit the Knights quite often," Harry reminded him.

"Never with the same Knights, never so often."

"Nott needs someone to talk to."

"Do you?" Tom asked. "Do you need another person to talk to?"

Harry almost hesitated, but after years of understanding Tom he didn't let the pause carry on. "I don't tell him anything I wouldn't tell you."

"You shouldn't go sharing secrets, Harry," Tom hissed.

"I'm not."

"Nott is unable to handle many things that other Knights take up with ease," Tom said, "but in spite of this he is not a fool. He is weak in many ways, yes, but he has a dangerous ability to find out things that ought to have been kept secret. Don't let him fool you."

A silence fell. Tom continued staring, struggling with his composure, while Harry thought. He didn't think that Nott would do anything with the information he learnt from Harry, concerning the Knights or his and Tom's relationship... but what if Tom was right?

"I have to go," Tom said, standing up.

"Are you meeting some of the Knights?"

"Perhaps."

Tom was already dressed to go out. He put on his shoes in the edge of the bed, straightening out the covers he had laid upon, as he stood up. He turned back to Harry after a long moment, seeing that he was being watched. He seemed tempted to ask Harry why he was still waiting, but he stopped. He began walking towards him.

"I was thinking we should go away for a little while," Tom said quietly.

"Where to?"

"Anywhere. If there's a place you want to visit, I'll take you there."

Tom was standing closer to him now. Harry wasn't sure what he was thinking, or what he meant by suggesting something that was doubtlessly romantic. It made him wonder if Tom thought better of his dislike for Nott, or if he thought that by going away together they might get away from this, so they could work it out.

"I enjoy going away with you, seeing new things," Tom told him. "Would you like that?"

"Yes, I always do." Harry smiled.

Tom leant in, pressing his lips against Harry's. Thinking that they might spend the evening together, Harry held Tom close, kissing him back more passionately. However, Tom didn't seem able to stay in this embrace for long.

"I'll be back later on," Tom informed him.

Their interlinked hands slid away from each other's. Tom left Harry where he was. They said goodbye from there, Harry wishing that Tom had stayed for longer.

– X –

"I think Tom is annoyed with me."

"Why?" Nott asked.

"I don't know," Harry said honestly. He had mulled it over for a great deal of time these last few days. "He don't think he much likes it when I spend time with other people."

"We're friends," Nott said, his brow furrowed. "He can't stop you from having friends."

"He isn't used to it," Harry said simply. "I don't think he'll ever be used to it."

It made Harry think of Emeric. It had been different with Emeric simply due to the romantic feelings that he had harboured for Harry, in what he thought was secrecy. Moreover, Tom had never met the wizard in his life, he neither knew nor understood how he worked, how he might affect Harry... It was different with Nott because Tom knew him well, knew how his mind worked. They were both aware and comfortable with the fact that Tom watched them closely.

"I presume he doesn't speak very highly of me, these days," Nott said.

"He doesn't speak highly of anyone."

"Except you, of course."

Harry smirked a little. "Of course..."

Nott smiled a little too. They sat facing each other in Nott's living room in two comfortable armchairs, a small table with drinks between them.

"I think I might be going away for a little while, again."

"With Tom, I'm guessing?"

"Yes. We'll be back though, of course."

"I understand. I'm sure you'll have a good time, wherever you're going."

Harry nodded, glad Nott didn't ask too many questions. Tom had taught Nott, as well as a few others, very well about how to rid themselves of curiosity, for the sake of convenience within their group. It made Harry wonder why Tom was so scared that Nott would find out more than he should.

"I think he wants you and I to stop talking."

"Why?" Nott asked.

"He just doesn't like for me to get too close to other people. I think he gets paranoid."

Nott didn't respond immediately. He wasn't any less sad than before; Lestrange was getting married and although they spoke about it a little less often, Harry could see something within him had changed this past year. He no longer laughed as openly, no longer found enjoyment in seemingly anything he did. Harry felt as though he had to be here for him. He felt as though there would come a time when Nott would see no reason to go on.

"So, you're going then?" Nott asked. "How many more times will I see you?"

Harry realised, then, that it sounded as though he intended to abandon Nott. "Oh, no, I'm not going to stop seeing you."

"You're not?"

"No, of course not. Tom's bound to realise that he has no reason to be paranoid."

"Is he angry? I don't want to anger him."

"He won't do anything to you."

Nott didn't look so sure.

"Honestly, if Tom wanted to punish you for this, he wouldn't have waited so long. As for me, you know he doesn't treat me like the other Knights."

"Yes, but," Nott began slowly, unsure what he could or couldn't say, "Tom's always been a bit... easily angered. Anything can make him more angry at me, or could make him choose to hurt me."

"I won't let him," Harry said flatly.

"Would you be able to stop him? You said before, with that boy Tom got jealous of, that it caused problems. You've obviously fought with him since, if he broke your old wand. Tom must have been there with you, he must have been angry."

"Tom wasn't there," Harry assured him. "It's a completely different thing; he was obsessed with me, he wasn't my friend. I wanted to get away from him as much as Tom wanted me to."

"How did you know him?" Nott asked, "if he wasn't your friend."

"Well, he sort of was a friend at first, I suppose. We worked together; he seemed nice enough and he definitely wasn't a threat... or, so I thought. He was insane, I think. His emotions didn't make any sense at all, he'd go from being nice to being enraged faster than anyone I've ever seen."

"That's odd," Nott said slowly.

"Tom was furious the moment he heard about him, but there was no way he could have guessed how insane he really was. Emeric wanted me to like him, but at the same time he kept trying to hurt me, thinking it was for my own good, or something. I don't really know why. He'd just burst into anger – it was mad. It was unnatural."

"That is quite unusual," Nott commented. His voice was quiet and he looked both confused and unnerved. He fell silent.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

Nott opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Something was bothering him deeply, but Harry had no idea what it might be.

"Christopher?"

"You said Tom scared him," Nott said slowly, "but it sounds as if from that point on, Emeric changed."

"He became a part of another Dark Arts group," Harry explained, "and we both know how that can change some people."

"But you worked at the Daily Prophet with him – I remember you mentioned that just when we all came to Albania, because Lestrange worked there too."

"So?"

"So, why would someone so interested in the Dark Arts work at the Daily Prophet? What are the chances that you and him could both be planted there at the exact same time as spies, never finding each other out? You're not stupid."

Harry tried to think. "I don't know what you're getting at."

"The way he changed sounds unnatural even through your explanation," Nott said quietly. He looked almost reluctant to speak. "If his emotions were all over the place, switching to anger so often that he hurt you to 'help' you, and if he turned to the Dark Arts without you ever once suspecting that he might be a part of a group... It just doesn't fit."

"He was crazy," Harry said, feeling uneasy at Nott's distress. "He went mental."

"For what reason?" Nott asked.

Harry had no answer. The two wizards stared at each other across the room. It was true that Emeric hadn't given any signs to suggest he might be twisted inside, or might have a deep, passionate liking for the Dark Arts... Harry could remember his face now, staring down at him with wide eyes, jumping from one emotion to the next as if chunks of conversation had fallen away, changing his mindset at an unnatural pace...

"Tom," Harry managed very quietly. He felt stunned, waiting for Nott. "You think it was Tom."

Nott looked uneasy. "I-I don't know... There's a lot of dark magic that can affect people like that, and we know Tom likes to experiment."

Harry couldn't think. True, he had no other explanation for why Emeric turned to the Dark Arts. True, Tom had sent Emeric away from work so quickly, and true he had spoken to him, to scare him off. Tom had enough time and power to do something like this... but why?

"I don't see why he would have done that," Harry said in little over a murmur.

"To keep him away, perhaps?"

"Emeric chased after me with more effort than ever," Harry said, "he found me in impossible situations, he tracked me down by chance."

"Tom might not have thought he'd live."

"Maybe," Harry mumbled. He didn't know what was wrong with his heart, which pulsed in hurting, distracting pressure. He felt a deep sense of foreboding.

"We've discussed it before," Nott said, "it might not even have been intentional."

"Oh, yeah, because I'm sure Emeric just happened to walk in while Tom set a complicated, vastly advanced curse that demented and doomed him forever, making him chase after..."

Harry stopped. He thought about Grindelwald's Fortress. He knew the one thing Tom was sure Harry hated most of all was anyone who supported Gellert Grindelwald. He doubted that Tom could have planted Emeric in Grindelwald's Fortress as a spy, or as a person to help Harry, but it was certainly possible that Tom could have simply forgotten about the boy, after cursing him to take an interest in Grindelwald. He could have thought Emeric was insignificant, or could have been distracted by too many things to think of him when Harry was captured...

Assuming Tom did indeed curse Emeric to force him to follow Grindelwald's people, his reasoning behind it was obvious: he was both ensuring that Harry would never fall for Emeric and ensuring that if the time was right, if Emeric survived long enough to indeed find Harry, there was a greater possibility that Harry might choose to kill him. Harry, recognising the delirious, frightening change that took over Emeric, recognising Emeric's willingness to cause pain, would feel far less inclined to hesitate before an attack...

"I've been so blind..." Harry's voice was shaking. "I..."

He didn't know what was happening to him. He couldn't breathe normally, his hands were shaking, his heart hammering, and his chest felt as thought it would explode. He looked away from Nott, confused, worried, and embarrassed as he didn't understand.

If Tom could curse the Defence Against the Dark Arts job it the future, it only seemed logical that he could have ruined Emeric in this way. Yet it had been so soon, so slyly that Harry hadn't once thought about the inconsistencies of Emeric's story... This, he supposed, was why Tom feared Nott; the Knight had an uncommon ability to put things together that so many other people overlooked.

"He wanted Emeric to chase after me," Harry explained in a low voice. "Emeric was driven insane and I could see that, but instead of questioning it, I... I was supposed to get scared. I was supposed to be angry at him for the things he said, the things he did to Tom and to me, and I did. I..."

Nott didn't say a word. He might have regretted voicing his theory, but whether this was true or nor, Harry didn't care. A sense of hopelessness gripped him.

"I killed him..."

As Harry said it, the pain within him worsened. He felt as though he was a very long way away from where he sat. His surroundings were blurred, his feelings in an uproar of confusion. Harry had murdered Emeric in fear of his insanity, but in honesty he had silenced an innocent boy who had been cursed by the man he loved.

"I have to go."

Harry started to stand as he said it, driven solely by the desire to not fall apart in front of Nott. He felt numbed, but he wasn't sure how long this would last, or what would happen when it faded.

"I understand."

"I'll... I might be back before I leave, I dunno."

"Are you going to talk to Tom?"

Nott was standing too, as if he half expected Harry might faint.

"Yes," Harry said. "I need to talk to him. If this is true..."

"I'm sorry," Nott managed.

He had made an involuntary movement to reach out a hand to Harry, but he stopped himself. Harry barely noticed. He was distracted when his throat began feeling constricted, his hands shaking.

"Speak to our Lord," Nott advised. "It could still be nothing."

If there was one thing Harry was sure of now, it was that Tom hadn't done nothing to Emeric. He nodded nonetheless, starting to feel these thoughts tearing at him. His skin, his body, his heart, his mind, and his soul tensed and ached at the very thought of his theory being right. He wanted to leave. He didn't know what else he could do.