Chapter 135:
"So, which ones did you find?" Tom questioned, after a while.
They'd been sitting in the Room of Requirement in silence since their agreement regarding the handling of Lestrange's punishment, about five minutes ago.
It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, per say, more an expectant respite.
Harry felt like he was falling asleep anyway, sitting before the blazing fire. Tom has dragged his sofa even closer to it, head near Harry's on the arm of the couch, arm dangling not far from him.
He snapped somewhat to attention at the question. His eyes flicked to Nagini.
"What?" he asked. Tom smirked, faintly.
"I can sense them on you, sunshine," the young Dark Lord replied. "There are five extra pieces of my soul in this room.
"Harry wondered if he'd imagined Tom's momentary hesitation on the number 'five'. The rest of the words were spoken with such smooth confidence that he thought he must have
. He didn't disregard the thought though, carefully noting it for further examination at a later date.
He considered for a moment, before pulling out the cup. He'd be keeping a very close hand on it at all times, and he certainly didn't trust to hide it. He would have to be vigilant against Tom's likely efforts to steal it. The Slytherin Heir's eyes widened for a moment, gleaming at the artefact, slender fingers reaching out as if to take it.
Harry dropped it back into his inner jacket pocket again with a smile.
"Hufflepuff's cup," Tom murmured. "How…magnificent."
"Hmm," Harry replied. "No such thing as being ostentatious in your choices is there? though I must admit the Hogwarts link is making it easier for me to find them."
He knew of six Horcruxes now; himself, the cup, the locket, the ring, Nagini and the Diary - already destroyed. He had one more left to find, and he, rather strongly, suspected it to be in Hogwarts.
Perhaps even in the Room of Requirement, a variation of it, anyway.
The problem was that Tom could sense the damn things too, and if Tom got to that Horcrux first and hid it, things could get difficult for him.
"They're not mine."
"You'd go after the same objects though," Harry returned. "Love of grand trophies and all that. You wouldn't house your soul in something of no significance either."
Tom's eyes were very intent on his.
"One more to go, then," he noted. Harry smirked.
"Bet it bugs you that I'm winning."
"Winning? That's a rather arrogant presumption, darling, considering everything you still have left to do."
"And you? Have you finished your spell?" Harry returned pointedly.
"I'm liable to finish it before you can find all the pieces…and written your own spell…and managed to make Voldemort feel enough remorse to even stitch himself together again."
"Actually, I dare say I'll use the empathio spell like I did today to make him feel my remorse," Harry said brightly. "It seemed to be rather effective."
Tom froze for a second, no longer bothering with his aura of casualness.
"Good luck maintaining a spell while your mind is torn to shreds," the other replied coldly. Harry felt a pang of sorrow, but concealed it behind another smile.
"So it does bug you that I'm winning."
Tom laughed, mirthlessly.
"Winning, Harry? I never realised having your mind blown to ribbons was a success, but I guess it's a different perspective when you make a lifestyle out of being self-destructive."
"Self destructive? That's rich coming from the guy who plans to split his soul," Harry replied coolly. Tom narrowed his eyes.
"That's enhancement, not destruction. The greatest men have all searched for immortality."
"The most fearful men," Harry countered, frustrated, "the most self-destructive. Humans aren't supposed to be immortal.""Then being human is overrated and I don't want it," Tom returned.
Harry closed his eyes for a moment.
"Then what are you doing here?" he questioned, very quietly. "Tom Riddle is human, Voldemort is not, and you told me once that I'm the only one keeping you as the former. Do I not cripple you?"
The Slytherin Heir went silent, staring at him with dark, fathomless eyes.
The silence stretched.
Lucius Malfoy prided himself on always being on the winning side, or, at the very least, not the losing one. He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's never lost.
That was why he'd decided to get out now, before it was too late.
The Dark Lord was spiralling, and, for the first time, he could no longer see the benefit of supporting that powerful man.
Once upon a time, it had all seemed so noble - their glorious cause and revolution. Lord Voldemort was a dark figurehead, a majestic, brilliant god-like man, someone who would bring the old world to their knees. He'd believed with all his heart.
He'd faltered in those thirteen years of absence, shocked to find that someone so esteemed could be brought so low by a toddler, he'd been disgusted, disenchanted…and ever since then the Dark cause had been slowly crumbling.
Then he came across the two of them.
Tom Riddle and Harrison Evans.
When he'd first met Potter he'd thought him a mediocre brat, a child with nothing special or likeable to him…but now…those two.
He dared not stand against them.
He'd heard stories from his father, forbidden whispers of a golden time, and he'd dismissed them along with his old man due to his lack of favour amongst said lord. He hadn't thought anything could be better than the Dark Lord he had once sworn his loyalties too.
Now…now he could see how terribly he had erred.
The Slytherin Duo had a formidable track record, only proved as they flourished and survived while his Lord failed. He could not support Lord Voldemort against such adversary, he was neither blind nor stupid.
He had no desire to lose and be crushed.
Besides, once his Lord found out what he had done…he would be ruined. The man would never forgive him for aiding Potter's escape, even if it was due to debt and family. The only loyalty the Dark Lord was interested in was loyalty to himself.
He wasn't going to wait for suspicion to fall on him.
The man had been enraged today, sparing no one his wrath and curses, insane, irrational. Manic.
Lucius was a Slytherin. He would adapt, and when he couldn't, he would start anew.
Survive.
He would settle his peace, collect Draco and leave the country until the war was over, to return to claim his mantle piece at the forefront of whatever world remained….
Or, he would, if his son and - bizarrely - his father would only cooperate.
Draco was refusing to leave, and he couldn't believe it. Was it the OWLs? He could pay to retake them in Durmstrang!
"You will do as I tell you," he hissed, venomously. "I am your father."
"I'm not leaving," Draco returned, looking towards Abraxas for support. His son was pale, but resolute. "Not now."
"This country is on the brink of war."
"This country is on the brink of everything," Draco cried. "You're not here, you haven't seen them, they can actually change things and do something! I'm not going to run and miss possibly the biggest event in our history since the founders."
"The Dark Lord would never tolerate you opposing him, he'd destroy you Draco."
He'd feared, when he heard of the life debt, that his malleable son would choose Riddle and Potter, in their strange allure. It was another reason to get out.
Draco's loyalty, or treachery rather, would be revealed to his Lord and none of their family would be spared for it.
"The Dark Lord is a shadow! You told me he was brilliant, amazing, that he would bring back the old ways but he's not! Lord V-Voldemort is cowering in the face of two teenagers. Malfoy's have pride, you always told me, where is the pride - the honour - in supporting a man like that?"
He opened his mouth to respond, harshly, only to come to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of two figures.
The Slytherin Duo had arrived.
Harry stilled as he came to the outside of the Slytherin Common Room.
Malfoys. A murder of Malfoy's.
Lucius, Narcissa, Draco and Abraxas.
He blinked. What was going on? And why had the Headmaster not come?
Lucius, as a school Governor (he'd been reinstated, much to Harry's unsurprised disgust) would be able to enter, but surely Dumbledore would know if he had? Harry suspected he'd left for the ministry again.
Sometimes, guiltily, he'd wondered if someone else should be the Headmaster, if the old man with his numerous duties was too busy for the job.
"What's going on?" Tom demanded, voice tight. He hadn't said a word since that conversation in the come and go room.
"He's trying to take Draco away," Abraxas answered immediately.
Lucius' eyes narrowed. Harry's brow furrowed.
Was this because Voldemort knew? They were fleeing - but no, if Voldemort knew of Malfoy's assistance, the blonde would have been too dead to come to Hogwarts. "In the middle of exam year," Abraxas added, snidely, shooting his son a dark look.
Tom's expression slid to one of vague disinterest.
"I see."
"You're turning on Voldemort?" Harry asked Lucius, watching the man carefully. "And there was me thinking that, aside from apparent debts, you were an avid follower."
"He follows people who win," Tom explained carelessly. "Voldemort's not winning, and nor is he in a particularly strong position either…and do not try and spin that into a lecture on the merits of treating people nicely golden boy."
"Well, it's true, if you crucio your followers they're not going to stick around when the going get's-" Tom's hand clamped over his mouth.
He winked at the Slytherin Heir instead, cheekily.
However much they argued in private, or whatever issues were involved, in such a situation as this they tended to pretend nothing was wrong…sometimes more successfully than others.
The thing was, he wasn't entirely sure if something was wrong, or if Tom was simply thoughtful, and was too tired to try and second guess or analyse his answer.
He'd be able to tell in the morning anyway, no doubt.
Lucius looked uncomfortable. He shook his head out of Tom's grip, smirking. To be fair, the other had practically made commenting an invitation.
Abraxas was looking at Tom with a vaguely pleading expression.
"You can't let them take him," he murmured, trying to sound composed and smooth.
"Can't?" Tom raised an eyebrow, suddenly dangerous with the almost-command. Abraxas swallowed visibly.
"I-I mean, well-"
"Draco, do you want to leave the country?" Harry asked, abruptly.
Draco looked at him cautiously, and once, Harry believed he would have spat something scathing and sneering. This time, and it showed how much everything had changed, he shook his head.
"No," he admitted.
"We can't stay here!" Lucius snarled. "Narcissa - tell him."
"And you're leaving because you don't want to be on the losing side?" Harry clarified, of the elder. "And, I imagine, in fear of what the Dark Lord will do to your when he inevitably finds out that you betrayed him next time you meet, with his skills in Legilimens."
It was almost impossible to get near either Tom or Voldemort after such a betrayal, Harry knew. They might not always know the specifics, but they normally knew that something had occurred.
"What's your point, Potter?" Malfoy questioned coldly.
"Sounds like you need political asylum," Harry shrugged. He felt Tom's eyes flick to him sharply. Malfoy's eyes were unreadable.
"And you could arrange that? In return for what?"
"You could join us."
"Us?"
Harry suddenly lost confidence.
"Well, me-"
"-Us," Tom said, over him. Harry glanced at him, startled. Tom met his gaze for a moment, before looking at the Malfoys once more.
"What are your aims, what are you standing for?" Lucius questioned untrustingly. Immediate problem.
He and Tom wanted different things. Why had that 'us' slipped out, as gratifying as Tom's confirmation had been, as touching, it was somewhat inconvenient when pitching a side to a potential recruit.
"Our main priority at the moment is to get rid of Voldemort," Tom said calmly. "That shall be taking precedence for the next four months at least, after of which, we can discuss the matter further with you."
"A temporary alliance?" Narcissa spoke for the first time, her voice even and cultured.
"Essentially."
"You're not settled as a faction," she stated, no question in his voice. "You have no idea if the two of you working together in such a manner will even work."
Suddenly, Harry grew very aware of the switch that had come over Tom's demeanour, the aura of pure control and power.
"And yet," the Slytherin Heir murmured, lightly. "We have the light and dark lords of the day running and plotting around us, struggling to keep up and so defensive that they can scarcely muster any true offensive." Tom paused, and Harry felt his magic stretch extremely subtly, as if he was only expressing honesty and enthusiasm. "Imagine what we could do."
Lucius looked somewhat transfixed, and, to be honest, everyone actually appeared a bit dazzled. Harry couldn't help but be impressed once again at the smoothness with which Tom could operate when he wanted to. He was a damn good public speaker.
"Think on it," Tom offered, "and get back to us tomorrow if you wish for some to consider your options."
"Will you be able to protect my family?" Narcissa questioned, at their back. Harry turned slightly, looking back at the four of them.
"I can promise to go to every effort to try."
Tom could practically feel Harry's emotions and thoughts bubbling next to him, as they sat in the common Room - Abraxas and Draco sent to bed, mother and father Malfoy had returned to their manor for the night.
Really, the whole suddenness of their actions had been absurd. It wasn't like Voldemort was going to be swoop down and murder them in one night.
Panic.
Such an irrational thing.
He was somewhat amused by the fact Harry wasn't saying anything, though he knew the boy was absolutely exhausted despite how he was doing every effort to remain awake for the conversation. He waited patiently. Harry would question eventually; he always did.
"Us?" his friend asked, finally.
"Do you have an objection?" he returned, not letting any nerves-uncertainties-show on his face. He knew Harry probably didn't. He had said 'us' first, after all.
"I-no-well-"
"You're so eloquent when you're exhausted," he smirked.
Sleep deprivation with magical exhaustion probably wasn't the best combination, but he had to admit it was… entertaining to witness. Harry scowled.
"I'm not exhausted."
He merely raised incredulous eyebrows in response.
"You should go to sleep."
"Our aims don't match. I don't believe all muggles should die."
He hid a smile. So stubborn. Always so bloody stubborn.
"Harry, go to sleep," he ordered Harry opened his mouth, and he continued over the protest. He was pretty sure he could guess what they were going to be anyway. "If you really want, we can create a constitution for the future of our world now, but to be honest I would prefer to do it when you're coherent and at your full potential. Think carefully, darling, do you really want to do something so important now?"
"…you're seriously sending me to bed?"
"Well, you can sleep on the sofa if bothers you that much, though I dare say it wouldn't be as comfortable."
"Funny," Harry sneered.
He shook his head, looking over, before rolling his eyes and standing up and heading for the dormitory himself.
And he tightened the restriction.
Harry was finally asleep, having succumbed pretty quickly once he was actually lying down. In all frankness, Tom was amazed the boy had held out that long, not falling asleep standing.
Magical exhaustion wasn't something you wanted to mess with, and someone who cared more about rules would have had him the hospital wing by now.
Still, it was easier doing this way, as Harry was more likely to damage himself in the fight that would ensue in actually getting him to the 'white prison.'
Thoughts were whirling around in his, tumbling, incessant. He couldn't believe how this day had turned out. Just remembering that hologram flickering on…and that cruciatus…his fists clenched.
Unnaceptable. Utterly unacceptable.
Lestrange would suffer, even if he had to go behind Harry's back to cause it (though, admittedly, he was fascinated to see what Harry would come up with as punishment.)
Today, he'd actually been…scared, and what did that say? Ugh.
Harry was right, their friendship was crippling.
But then, that was the thing about weaknesses such as these…it was like drugs. He knew it was a vice that he should rid himself of, but he wouldn't get rid of it.
The curse of caring.
He'd gone through this same thought process dozens of times since the last time he'd seen Harry under cruciatus, when he'd inflicted it himself…
He'd have to have him make a Horcrux as soon as possible.
Harry was his weakness, his indulgence.
Sickeningly; he wouldn't have had it any other way.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews :) Much love!
And Fate's Favourite is starting to get near the end! :O About to hit climaxy parts!