Chapter 141:
They strode back up the gates to Hogwarts in the early evening, barely at the entrance hall when Luna came hurtling towards them.
The next moment, she came to a stop between them, staring at him, eyes wide. Then, blue orbs began to fill with tears. The teachers soon caught up with her, looking between them in utter bewilderment.
"Luna…" Harry began, helplessly. "It's okay."
It wasn't. It was. It really wasn't. Salazar.
His emotions swung wildly, all heightened, pasted over by the most terrible apathy, then indifference was torn away painfully like a plaster, revealing horror and guilt and self-loathing.
He hated himself. He hated Tom for doing this to him.
This was wrong, so, so wrong. But he couldn't seem to keep hold of the emotions long enough to stitch himself back together.
That frightened him more.
It wasn't working! Remorse wasn't working! Was he so far gone? Such a monster he was incapable of human regret? Did it even matter? Not feeling was a reprieve, and it wasn't like he was irreparably changed.
He still knew and felt that he would never harm his friends. That he would protect them. He swallowed. But that had changed, hadn't it? The protectiveness had risen, sharpened and twisted to something darker.
If Lestrange attacked him or one of his own now, no amount of morality would dissuade him from destroying the other boy completely, killing him for the audacity.
Bile rose in his mouth, before that, too was gone, replaced by rage. If someone attacked him or his friends they deserved the worst tortures he could give then, surely?
Except, he'd once despised torture. Once. His knees fell shaky.
"It's not okay," she whispered. "This will never be okay, and you know it."
He did. He didn't. He was so confused, torn into two. He swallowed.
"What has happened?" Dumbledore strode towards them.
The anger in him swelled, like a serpent rearing to strike. He turned away, breathing deeply, ignoring Tom's careful eyes and the incomprehension of everyone else.
"I'll be in the common room," he muttered to Tom.
"Mr Potter, the headmaster asked you a question, you are not leaving until this is cleared up," Snape growled, seizing his arm.
In a blur of motion, Harry's wand was at his throat, eyes gleaming dangerously, wildly.
"Get your filthy fingers off me," he ordered, in near hiss. "Or I'll remove them."
McGonagall gave a choked sound.
Rage pulsed in his blood. Oh he hated this man. He always made everything so difficult, always sniping about his father, smearing his memory. He was a Death Eater too. Snape's eyes widened to his immense satisfaction.
The next second, a hand fell on his own, firmly pulling his wand down, restraining.
"Harry."
It was all Tom needed to say, and his own eyes widened, his slack fingers releasing the wand in dismay and shock, watching as it clattered harmlessly to the floor. Oh god.
He had not just said that. He tried to back away, like a cornered animal, but the Slytherin Heir didn't release him, reeling him in closer. He clung to the other boy once again, somehow, inexplicably, feeling a calm settle upon him again.
Calm…Tom was calming. Tom could enrage him more than anyone else too. He was a mess, a total mess.
Snape's black eyes bored into him, as did everyone else's.
"Mr Potter," Dumbledore stated, "I think you had best come to my office."
He shook his head, wildly. No. No. His self-control was still too bad, too volatile. He hadn't settled yet. He would be better once he settled.
Once he could hold onto remorse long enough to heal himself.
Would he even be able to kill the Headmaster? Oh, bad thoughts. He didn't want Dumbledore dead! He held less fondness for him in present days, certainly, but he'd never wanted the man dead!
The old man wanted Tom dead though. Would he stop once Voldemort was gone? Or would he ruin everything Harry was working for because he was blind? Dumbledore could be a liability to him, to them. No.
He still couldn't murder him. Not in the least cause he wouldn't be able to against the other's power.
Damn.
That wasn't the right, moral reason to avoid murder.
"It wasn't a request," Snape snarled. Harry reared.
"I can-" add your tongue to be removed with your hands, you know.
Tom's hand clamped over his mouth, preventing him from finishing the threat.
Luna was watching the whole thing with alarm, blue eyes shining with pearls of tears that slipped down her cheek. Eventually, they managed to leave, without the trip to Dumbledore's office…he'd flat out refused.
Luna marched after them, and when they reached the Common Room entrance, Tom finally seemed to relent to something.
"Harry, go in, I need to talk to Lovegood for a moment. I'll be there in a moment."
Harry resisted the urge to stiffen.
He had quickly come to the realisation that he could no longer trust himself. He dared not leave Tom's proximity, with the knowledge that the young Dark Lord was probably one of the few people who could restrain him if he did 'snap.' He felt sick with fear.
And yet, he wanted his old self back. His old self was independent and didn't cling to the Slytherin Heir like a safety net. He shouldn't be so needy.
Without another word, shoulder's squared, he entered.
Tom watched Harry disappear in the Common Room, with the same unnerved sense he'd had all day.
Harry had just followed an order, another order to the numerous he;d followed today.
Another change.
It was just because he wasn't used to it, because Harry was still in the settling phase. He'd get better. He turned to Lovegood, brows arched.
"He didn't break. I guess you were wrong."
Her hands clenched into fists, and she seemed about to slap him, but her gaze was sad, heartbroken and weary.
"It's funny," she said softly. "You went on and on about him being the strongest person you know, and disregard that now. Harry's got a will of iron, he's holding on desperately, clinging to the humanity he has left to him until his task is done…he won't shatter in one dramatic moment like your Lestrange. It'll be slow, torturous. A spiral of crumbs. He's crumbling. But he won't let himself break entirely until Voldemort is gone. No," her voice turned hard, relentless, none of that dreaminess there now. "Can you see the cracks forming, Tom Riddle? Oh how could you do this to him?"
"He seems fine to me," he replied, annoyed. "He's just getting used to it. Nothing more. No cracks or crumbling-"
"-Any person who doesn't trust himself will inevitably break," she hissed. "And you took that away from him. He doesn't trust himself, can't you see the fear in his eyes? The self-loathing? That's what will kill him. That self-loathing. That's why he'll crumble, because no one can live with that amount of hate for themselves and find the will to go on after they've tied up their affairs. He followed your orders, you don't find that different? He hasn't argued with you once since you've got here! You don't find that telling of his sudden dependence on you?" She narrowed her eyes. "Or perhaps you prefer it like that? His submissiveness? His complete lack of confidence in himself?"
"I won't let him break," he replied, his own voice quieter now. "You must know that."
"I know you'll try your best," she whispered, the rage draining again. "But it won't be enough. You're what's holding him together right now, but do you really think it won't be like poison to the both of you that you did this to him in the first place?" She stared at him.
"And then," she murmured. "Then he'll have nothing left."
She shook her head, turning on her heel, leaving him standing there.
"I told you not to do it. You should have listened."
Thankfully, it was late enough that most the crowds had departed for their common rooms, and Harry took an empty chair in the corner of the room, in the shadows, isolated.
He closed his eyes, burying his hands into his hair in despair.
He could have killed Snape earlier, killed him where normally his control would be better. His control was gone. How long until he hurt one of his friends?
His morality, everything he'd stood for, was lying on the floor in pieces like shards of glass, cutting deeper into him with every action.
He was an abomination. The soul shouldn't be messed with.
Technically it was only relocated though, it wasn't like he didn't have it anymore. It was still somewhat linked to him. No. No.
Those thoughts were wrong
. He needed to feel remorse, not automatically rationalise this which couldn't be rationalised. He pictured the twisted disgust on the faces of his friends and family if they knew what he'd done.
Was he even human still? A Horcrux with a Horcrux. At least he had that deal with Voldemort, the death vow. If he slipped any further, he would either go find the Dark Lord to end it before he went psychotic, or try and avoid it and die for breaking the vow.
He was terrified to leave before Voldemort was dealt with though.
Even more reason for his plan to work. Two birds, one stone.
He couldn't harm someone with no mind to do so, and the time line would be saved. Tom could go on to change the world.
It would be…perfect. Without him. Now he was just being melodramatic. Why did he need to die or be done away with? It wasn't fair.
Yet, he would protect everyone else, even if it was from himself. He'd been stripped to his core characteristics and a hero complex without the morality to counter it. He shuddered.
He didn't know himself any more. The face in the mirror was a stranger.
He twirled his wand in his fingers, before pressing it to his skin.
Remorse. He kept forgetting the remorse, distracted by everything else. Would he even care for remorse when he settled? Was this like some defining stage of how he would be? He needed to remember remorse. Red began to seep in his arm as he began to carve the letters.
R-E-M-O
His work was cut off abruptly, magic flickering with fury around him, a hand yanking his wand away. The restraint was less welcoming this time. He looked up, indifferently, to meet Tom's blazing gaze.
"What are you doing?" Tom hissed demandingly, staring at his arm. "For crying out loud," the yew wand pressed against his skin.
As the cuts began to heal, he tore his arm free, halting the process, cradling the appendage defensively to his chest.
"No, I have to remember," he explained.
"I told you I wouldn't let you spiral."
"How can I trust that to be true?" he murmured. He felt Tom freeze, and glanced up with anguished eyes. "I don't even know who I am anymore."
"You're Harry Potter Evans," Tom replied.
"Harry Potter Evans would never do the things that have crossed my mind today."
The other seized hold of his shoulders, shaking him slightly.
"Crossed your mind, we can't control our thoughts. What matters is controlling out actions."
"Well, then that point's moot," Harry snapped, suddenly furious. "Because I can't control my actions. If you hadn't stopped me I could have seriously harmed Snape."
"You've frequently stopped me from murder and the like," Tom replied, fiercely, fingers digging in.
"I'm not supposed to be you!"
There was a thick silence, and Harry looked down, sighing. The other's expression had closed somewhat, unreadable.
"No," Tom said finally. "No you're not."
That night, Tom stared up at the ceiling of the Slytherin Common room, fully aware that Harry was lying wide awake across the room from him.
Lovegood's words and Harry's actions spun incessantly through his head.
Harry had clung to him a lot today, with an irritating and disturbing amount of reliance. He didn't understand it. The Horcrux was only supposed to shave off some of Harry's morality in return for his eternal life.
It wasn't like morality was that important, it was a created thing.
He'd freed Harry from its limitation, maybe Harry was just a bit confused now without such guidelines, but he'd settle down once he got used to it…once his soul got used to its new condition.
He could feel the soul shard inside him straining even now to go back to its original owner, though he wasn't sure how to describe the sensation. He kept it firmly locked in place.
Reabsorbing Horcruxes could kill someone.
Besides, he would fix it once his plan was complete. He had yet to make his own Horcrux, and, when he would, he'd merely slot it in the gap in Harry's own soul.
Then the boy would, technically, have a full soul again. His own, and part of Tom's to smooth the edges.
He just needed to keep Harry together until then.
And get his notebook back. Rage burned through him at the thought of the theft, along with a small tingling of admiration. He'd taught the other well…
Harry would snap back to normal, to being his Harry again soon, just with a smaller sense of morality and immortality. It would be perfect.
In their eternity, he would have all the time to work out any kinks or flaws in his method. But, for now, the Horcrux had to stay.
He wouldn't have done it to Harry if there had been another way, surely the boy understood that, he was cruel but not heartless. At least, not when it came to Harry.
He shifted his head, peering through the darkness to the other bed. The rest of their roommates slept around them. Green eyes were open.
As if feeling his stare, Harry looked over.
Their eyes met, locking for a moment.
He wouldn't break.
Lovegood was crazy.
He wouldn't break.
Tom wouldn't let him.
The final stretch of their race had began.
A/N: Bit of a filler, but hey, it should be the last filler before the end. It's all rolling from now on. I think.
I have come to the conclusion that I really don't like Horcrux Harry. He gives me the creeps.
Thanks for all the reviews :) You guys are fabulous. I hope this event hasn't dissuaded any of you from continued readership.