Chapter 73:
It had been a week, and though Harry felt appalled to admit it (or refuse to admit to himself, as the case may have been) he honestly just wanted to leave the depressing aura of the Black house and go back to Hogwarts.
He wanted to write Tom, but Tom has said "if you get into any trouble," and he wasn't in trouble. And it made him seem hopelessly clingy and bleugh.
Tom hadn't made any contact with him either. Not that he needed to. He'd said he'd be back in a couple of days, and it had only been a week.
Salazar.
He sounded pathetic.
It wasn't that he needed to see Tom or anything…it just felt slightly odd not seeing him. Or talking to him, whatever. He felt slightly at loss with what to do with himself, which was bad.
He'd found a cool locket in one of the rooms when they were cleaning though. It was gold with an 'S' on it. He could feel the magic thrumming with it, like a heartbeat. It was right up Tom's street - Christmas present sorted.
It wasn't technically stealing…Sirius had pretty much flung it on his hands after managing to wrestle it off Kreacher...He didn't care what Hermione said: that house-elf was just weird.
He was in the Black Library now, avoiding Ron.
He knew his best friend was grieving, and that he was upset, but the other Weasley's (barring Ginny) seemed to be able to prevent themselves from bristling at the hackles whenever he walked into a room, making snide comments until he left.
No, that was unfair. Ron looked absolutely exhausted, pale, with dark smudges under his eyes. His eyes seemed to constantly hold the red tint of recent sobbing.
It definitely wasn't his place to get irritated, or snap back. Hermione seemed to be helping at any rate; he often saw his two best friends together. They'd stopped arguing as much as they used to. He supposed they spent a lot of time together without him as a buffer…adapting was natural.
He did feel guilty about that, but…he didn't know. Everything felt messed up.
It was this house.
He'd heard Sirius crying out from nightmares almost every night, but had always pretended to be asleep and peaceful in his dreams, a heavy sleeper. It wasn't lying! It was…Sirius and Remus tried so hard to make sure it didn't wake him up, or bother him. He couldn't ruin their happy obliviousness, and Sirius clearly had enough on his plate with the ghosts of Azkaban without Harry's troubles on top of that…and he couldn't talk to the Weasley's about anything, despite the fact that most of them had offered at some point or other.
God…when had he started to feel more comfortable in the shadows then in the light? When had that even happened? And why did he feel so bloody restless all the time?
The funeral was soon.
He twirled his fingers absently around the chain of the golden locket in his hands, watching the glint of the green S in the light.
It was a bit after lunch, and no one was cleaning the house anymore. Mrs Weasley had insisted on them doing it, but Harry knew it was due to how something so mindless as cleaning could soothe a panicked, rolling mind.
He sighed, strolling down the aisles of musty books, eyeing the shelves with a disinterested wariness. There was some nasty stuff…nasty stuff.
This was the Black library! Did they, perhaps, have something on Horcruxes?
Dumbledore hadn't told him anymore about them, and Tom was certainly unwilling to breach the specifics of the subject.
He hunted the relatively small library with a fervour for fifteen minutes; he'd paced it a least ten times by now, with a rekindled energy, actually paying attention to the titles.
Blood Purity; the History of the Blacks…Why the 'Light' aint right…offensive spells for the Dark of Grey Wizard…most potent potions…the comprehensive guide to magical creatures…a thousand runes and rituals…secrets of the darkest arts…shadows that heal and conceal…wait! What?
He tracked back to Secrets of the Darkest Arts…Horcruxes were way Dark, they would be in there, wouldn't they?
He plucked the book out suspiciously, praying it wasn't horribly cursed or liable to burn his eyes out…nothing. He looked around him, before backing into a spot hidden from the door, opening the book to the contents.
Blood magic, bone magic, rituals, necromancy, soul magic…he flipped open to soul magic, lip curling with disgust. This stuff was horrible.
Dark Magic may have not been evil, but this stuff WAS, it had to be.
There were spells to torture a soul, how to trap a soul, or a bind a soul to another person through contract, howto call up the soul of someone once dead, how to use the power of a soul to enhance your own magic and…the Horcrux.
Half uncertain on whether or not he wanted to see this or not, he flicked to the relevant page, staring uncomprehending at lines of tight writing, circles, stars and…this magic was advanced, way past his understanding regarding any more than basics.
It wasn't as simple as an incantation, or even a normal spell or a potion…there were runes involved, and preparations, and after effects to ensure the rest of your soul remained attached and in your body…it was complicated.
It made reference to unforgivable acts having to take place for the soul to be torn open…how could Tom even consider this?
The book even said it was the most vile of all magics.
Bile clawed up his throat, relentless, his stomach swollen.
A Horcrux was a valued possession (was that all he was?) that must be protected.
The only way to reverse is through remorse, deep-seated genuine remorse for ones actions (Voldemort was screwed.)
It could only be destroyed by the most destructive of substances…Fiendfyre and basilisk venom. What the hell was Fiendfyre again?
And…didn't you have to be a Horcrux to destroy a Horcrux? Dumbledore had said…it must be true, Tom hadn't said anything against it either…what other reason would there be for him to have to be the one to destroy Voldemort?
The owner of the Horcrux cannot die until all Horcruxes are gone, but he already knew that bit…can cause emotional instability…it is dangerous to get too emotionally dependent or close to a Horcr…shit.
What exactly did that mean if someone was a living Horcrux? Could the Horcrux in him…
Ginny.
It couldn't be the Horcrux in him that was affecting her, otherwise it would have started before Tom came to his time…wouldn't it? He couldn't tell.
Parts of the text, sparse and cramped though it was, he couldn't even understand.
Hell! Some of it wasn't even in sodding English.
He slammed the book shut, ramming it back on the shelf and glaring at it.
He should burn the thing. Burn it so no one can ever find it...shit.
He slid to a seated position on the floor, his head in the hands. T
his was what he was. He wasn't even human he was something else, something terrible and evil and…did the Horcrux part affect him? Affect his life? Did it attack those he cared about? Or those who cared too much about him?
He wasn't fit for society.
Another couple of days had passed.
Ron no longer made comments, he didn't have the opportunity to, Harry didn't stay out of his self-enforced isolation long enough for the redhead to have the chance.
He knew they were worried about him, had all tried to get him to come out and socialise…but he couldn't. He needed answers.
He needed…was it what he needed, or what the Horcrux needed?
The parseltongue had slipped through, so had an affinity for Dark Magic…what else was his that wasn't his at all?
He hadn't slept. He was scared to. What if the Horcrux could possess him when he was sleeping? When he was weak? When he let his guard down?
He was aware that they had all left him alone now, largely given up on getting any type of response from him.
Ron had yelled that he was a "selfish, attention seeking git" and the like. It had just swept over him, it didn't touch him.
It was the most life he'd seen in Ron since his father had died.
Was that the absence of a Horcrux? Did he have his own personality?
He shuddered, fingers scrunching tightly into his head.
There was a muttering of voices downstairs, footsteps…wouldn't they just leave him alone?
He'd charmed the door shut with Parseltongue to prevent anyone from coming in and getting infected.
He had tried largely to avoid eating too…after all, why keep alive something that would aid Voldemort?
He stared morosely at the floor, still twirling the locket through his fingers. He studied at it intently.
It was a strangely soothing object, smooth in his hands…maybe he should just keep it himself? Tom didn't really need it, did he?
A fist pounded on the door, but he ignored it, before his head snapped up at the dangerous voice issuing through the keyhole.
"Open the door right this instant, hero, people are wondering if you've died in there! And I didn't get dragged here to talk to a piece of wood."
Harry's heart stopped.
A/N: Well, okay, it turned out the Weasley's weren't all the much in this chapter after all, erm, sorry. But you know, guess who's back? I was actually going to have him away longer, but you know, you guys were complaining profusely after one chapter ;) Thanks for the reviews! I know this chapter seemed a bit like an information overload…but the next one should be better…I've been saying that for the last couple of chapters…but you know if history talks, you like the chapters that I hate ;) Fingers crossed.
PS: Can I make a request to ALL readers? It's my Birthday coming up, and I get like 1000 hits for a chapter…but about maybe 15-23 reviews (NOT THAT I DON'T TOTALLY LOVE THEM OR AM UNGRATEFUL!) but it's kind of a secret wish of mine that one time every single person who reads the chapter would leave a comment, be it good, bad, okay, stop writing because you're making my mind bleed…and well, I'm open to anon reviews. And it's my 18th Birthday soon? So…presents? *cheesy grin.* You don't have to, and I don't want to sound ungrateful, but…ya know. I'm going to hide. Maybe delete this request and make it after a good chapter when you all actually like me and FF. J
If you take on the request, it can be with the next chapter, which I promise you should actually be worth reviewing! And that one (if you go by apparent fast updating, would be closer, as my birthday is quite early next month...