Chapter 34:
Harry was in a terrible mood that morning.
His head was throbbing like never before, crippling him in agonising waves that left him feeling like his skull had been cracked open. He'd ended up transfiguring himself a pair of dark black sunglasses, because the light aggravated him too much. It had done little to help.
He'd left before any other Slytherin had awoken. So many things were just piling up in a short space of time - leaving the light, Ginny's bizarre reaction (and she hadn't been like that last year? He'd asked Ron to see if he could look into it, because that wasn't normal and she may have been cursed or something. Or maybe seeing Tom and being reminded of her traumatic first year made her snap. Or something.) Godric's Hollow and the weird crap with the rememberalls, and the god-forsaken death list, which Tom still had now he came to think of it.
He had this feeling that Tom knew more about it then he was letting on, with the whole explaining rememberalls holding memories coupled with his intense psyche out stare. It was like he was being tested, somehow, which was really unnerving. Then there was the whole little thing about the Death Eater raid and the war going public. Nothing big or anything. Oh, and the treacherous little snake mark on his arm. He felt it tingle sometimes, but Tom had mainly let it be.
Which was creepy, because Tom wasn't the type not to press on that advantage, and it was a clear advantage because it was pretty damn similar to a dark mark. Salazar. He hated his life sometimes. He sighed heavily, rubbing his head. It all sounded so surreal when he stacked it up like that. There were too many strings left untied…or more like that he hadn't kept track of. Knowing Tom, they weren't untied at all they were coiling silently around him in his distraction, ready to suddenly tighten around him like marionette strings. He stopped in the corridor, shivering at the mental image that gave him. Ominous. Very ominous.
Fate hated him.
There was a dead silence as he walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. The Slytherin's were already at their table, their eyes intense and assessing on his person. Great, more psyche outs. Wasn't he a lucky boy? He wasn't sure if he was annoyed or relieved when the killer migraine building in his head abated slightly - due to Tom's proximity he presumed.
Damn, that was so sickeningly dependant. He was going to have to talk about those Occlumency lessons.
"Mr Potter!" A ministry official bustled over to him immediately, a pad and pen held eagerly in his hands to make records. "We require your assistance." His jaw tightened.
"You require my assistance?" he repeated, coldly, arching a brow. "Finally decided I'm not a lying, insane schizophrenic attention whore? How convenient."
The official spluttered, before making a valiantly pompous effort to compose himself.
"The minister wishes to discuss the events of last year with you, he believes you may hold some valuable information pertaining to possible ways of defeating You-know-who before he can regain full power." The official's expression seemed to suggest he should have been honoured by this, and Harry could immediately feel a strong irritation rising alongside his headache.
This day just kept getting better.
"Then by all means, he can contact me through the usual methods requesting my time."
The official gaped at him.
"You are Harry Potter, aren't you?"
Bulbous eyes raked his forehead suspiciously.
"Unfortunately," he deadpanned. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" he sidestepped the man and headed for the green table.
"You know when people told me The-Boy-Who-Lived had gone dark, I told them they were barmy…but I guess there must have been an element of truth to it after all," the official said snidely. Harry paused, feeling his temper snap.
"And that," he said in a conversation tone of voice. "Is why I hate the ministry." He spun round, his magic blazing. "You, and your minister, are a bunch of corrupt, pathetic little sheep with nothing better to do than backstab potential allies and spin ridiculous false accusations to try and make yourself look better. The height of pettiness, no? You have some audacity to even talk to me about elements of truth! You can tell the minister, and any of your other ass-hole colleagues that if they want my help or anything from me, they can start by changing that. You make me sick." He drew a sharp breath, struggling to reign in his temper. "I have a seriously bad headache at the moment, and a night of death eater raids and torture sessions burned into my mind right now," the conversational tone was back, derisive and mocking. "So please get the hell away from me, before I try some to see if they are motivational enough to get you to actually fight this war before it turns into more of a bloodbath than it already is. Merlin, its not my job to tell you how to run the country."
The official left very quickly after that.
As he sat down, Tom shot him a piercing look.
"Seriously bad headache?" he quoted questioningly. Harry shook his head, letting it drop on the table.
"About those Occlumency lessons…" he prompted. The Slytherin heir inclined his head.
"This evening, if you would like."
"Price?" he asked wearily. Tom studied him, a small smirk on his face.
"Hmm, you're actually watching where you're going this time. A remarkable improvement."
Harry glared. Tom's smirk broadened, before fading.
"I think actually getting us all a full night's sleep is price enough," he said. "Just don't give me any attitude in the lessons." Harry stared at him for a moment.
"Okay," he agreed.
"Good," Tom approved, turning to his breakfast. The sight of it made nausea stir up in his stomach.
"How can you even think about eating now?" he muttered. Tom didn't look up.
"Because I'm hungry. Now shut up and eat - or are you planning on being a wuss and throwng up?"
"No," he growled, but he didn't make any movement to actually touch anything on the various plates and platters before him. Wow, way to make a guy feel uncomfortable about actually having enough of a moral grounding to not have an appetite after observing a slaughter…
"Whatever," Tom dismissed, but Harry noticed his gaze flick up for a brief moment, before returning to the latest book he was reading - about memory.
The rest of breakfast passed uneventfully, with Lestrange, Zevi and Draco starting a discussion on what happened to identity if a person suffered from memory loss as any survivors of the death eater raid had been obliviated.
Then it hit him. Memory.
His hand closed on the remembrall in his pocket.
AN: Well, it's an update, that's good news, right? I hope you guys liked it. Thank you for all the reviews, they give me a confidence boost and cheer me up whenever I read them =)