Chapter 32: Curiosity Kills the Cat

The holiday break was coming to a close, and Harrison knew there was very little time in finding that object that haunted the back of his consciousness. There was only a little more than a day before he would go aboard the Hogwarts Express to finish out the remainder of the term at Hogwarts. Right after that, is when he was going to spend those few months of summer in finding the Dark lord and bring him back to his full power.

That was the plan.

Right now, he just wanted to get that object out of his head, the one that continuously haunted his thoughts, kept him up all through the night, wondering what this object was and why this was important to the Dark Lord. He wanted to feel its power- the Dark magic- that was practically begging him to find it. Practically calling him. He wanted to feel the rush of magic, it would give him, and how much he still had much more to fight, much more to give before his promise would mean something.

Before, everything in the Magical world would be okay, and finally be a better world.

Right now, the object was going to take priority, and he needed to sneak around to grab it before Sirius found out what he was doing. He spent the last couple of days studying the man's habits and routine, so it would be easier to grab the object before Sirius would even notice- if he ever noticed. He didn't want to risk it, nor did he feel like asking Sirius what the object was, was even appropriate, considering he was a guest in his house.

Harrison cast a muffling charm on his feet as he headed down the stairs, down to the drawing room.

He soon arrived in the Drawing Room, barely even looking at the tapestry with the Black motto, written in French on top of the family tree. He barely even glanced over at the papers sprawled on the desk, messily, or how the window showed muggle London. No, instead he focused on the tingling and the presence of something dark that came from the door, the one right across from the desk. It etched him closer and closer, until his hand was on the doorknob and felt how powerful this one object was.

The door led to a small closet. It was filled to the brim with wooden shelves with dust coating it, and boxes of random sizes. The boxes were of varying sizes, some of them overflowing with random objects, while it looked like there was hardly anything in the boxes. There was nothing that gave off that magical signature that was begging for him to find it.

He moved several boxes off the shelf and onto the floor. It looked like there was nothing special about them, considering that they were all collecting dust from just sitting there. It was like Sirius, or one of his ancestors just threw them in there, hoping to find a place to put them, sentimental reasons or just didn't want to throw it out.

It took Harrison unsuccessful attempts, looking through boxes before he put out a box that was stashed in a dark corner. At first, it looked like nothing important but he felt the dark magic coming from the box, and knew that somewhere within the box would contain the dark, mysterious object. He tossed several objects on the floor, landing softly with a small thud, before something caught his eye.

It was a golden locket.

He knew just by looking at it, that this was the object that was haunting his thoughts. The locket was shiny, and golden. There was a serpentine S, inlaid with glittering green stones, engraved on the golden, oval piece. It reminded him of Amara's dark green scales, the way he visited Salazar Slytherin back in the beginning of the first term. For a second, he considered it might have been owned by Slytherin, due to the snake and the green gemstones.

But that was impossible.

A small part of him thought it might be true. It might be something he would ask Salazar Slytherin, when Harrison visits him again. The only problem was, if it was owned by Salazar Slytherin, why would the Black family have it?

Harrison pushed those thoughts to the back of his head, as he traced the serpentine S with his pale, spindly finger. It was cold against the tip of his finger- it wasn't ice cold because of the temperature, but the type of cold he felt during the time of Azkaban, the type of cold that Dementors would bring in. He also felt the presence of something else, something dark, calling for him.

He let a small smile on his face, knowing that he would enjoy finding out exactly what was in it, but first, he had to clean up the mess he made. He used his wand to levitate the objects back into the boxes he found them in, and the boxes back into the closet. It looked like he never was in the drawing room in the first place.

Good. He thought to himself as he got up from the floor, grabbing the locket by its chain. He felt the coldness spread upwards from his fingers into his hand, before it settled back into his fingers. He paid no mind to it, or the thought to put it around the neck (he knew nothing good would come from that). He wasn't going to play around with dark objects, and ones that have magical presence within them.

Nothing good would come out of that.

…

Ella felt her fingers twitch, as the trembling took hold over her. She knew her aunt and uncle were trying to make things right, in giving her the help she needed. She even agreed that it would be in her best interest, but now that the moment has arrived where she'd meet her mind healer, it was a completely different story.

"Are you sure that I have to do this?" Ella asked quietly to her aunt Cissa.

Ella sat on the carpeted floor, sitting crisscross, her ankles hidden underneath the soft, lavender dress she was wearing. She clutched the stuffed dragon tightly in her hands, using one hand to trace the dragon's spikes along the back and the tail. It comforted her, knowing that one such object would always be there, and wouldn't leave her unless she lost it.

"Yes, Ella," Narcissa sighed. "We've been over this before."

"How do I even know if I can trust them?" Ella asked. "I haven't even met them. I don't know what they are like, and considering that I was surrounded by people- including my mama and papa- who follows the Dark Lord?"

Narcissa leaned down to wrap her hands around Ella. She felt the warm embrace, and she stayed there, hoping that her mind would stop racing and would focus on one thought.

"Don't worry about it. Lucius and I made sure to find a mind healer that will help you, considering your family name and who they follow," Narcissa explained to her. "You need a mind healer… I'm afraid to know how much you were affected by being in that awful place for five years."

"But I'm fine!" Ella whined, "I don't need someone to talk to about my problems."

"Ella, saying you're fine when it's obvious you're not. You get plagued by nightmares, you've been raised in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors, and considering what happened in that orphanage. You're far from fine. You've seen some things that even the most average adult hasn't even seen or experienced, and that is truly sad. The messed up thing is that it has happened to you, and no one could take away from that. You also need to realize that it's okay to ask for help, and be able to move past your trauma. You're worth it despite where you came from," Narcissa explained to her, rubbing circles against Ella's back.

"But…"

"Ella, you'll be okay, okay?" Narcissa told her. "How about this? You get through this session with them without throwing a fit or protesting about it, and we'll go out, get some ice-cream and maybe pick out your own training wand, deal?"

"Deal."

That seemed to keep her quiet with her mind occupied with the idea of getting her own training wand. She knew her mama and papa once had one before they were thrown into Azkaban. It was one of the things that her parents talked about how, once they would get out of prison, they'd be a normal family and let her enjoy things that she should be enjoying as heir to the Lestrange family. She kept imagining all the spells she might be able to cast along with it, and a pang of guilt spread through her as she realized that her mama and papa wouldn't be there, for her to cast her first spell with an actual wand- well a training wand, but it was the same gist.

"Ella," She heard someone say her name.

She looked up to see her aunt Cissa standing next to an unfamiliar witch. The unfamiliar witch had dark brown hair put up in two braids, and her skin having a deep bronze colored tint to it that reminded her of the instruments of the orchestra she watched so long ago.. She had a smile on her face, that was supposed to seem welcoming, but she didn't know what to expect around this person.

"Ella, this is Healer Gonzales. She's going to help you, okay?"

Ella simply nodded.

Healer Gonzales sat down, right in front of her. She could see the St. Mungo's logo is located right above her small pocket in the front. Her white colored robes seemed flowy, but seemed quite plain looking. She clutched the dragon tightly and briefly looked up at her Aunt Cissa who only mouthed, "you got this." before she left the room- leaving her and the mind healer alone in the room together.

"Hi Ella… Are you okay if I call you Ella?" Healer Gonzales asked. "Or should I call you Elladora."

"Ella's fine," Ella whispered.

"I want you to understand that I'm not here to push you into discussing things that you are not comfortable with. You also have to realize in order to move past your trauma, you're going to need to confront it," the healer told her.

Ella simply nodded in response.

The healer continued on, "I'm not really sure if there is an easy way to get this out, without it sounding awful, but I know what you've been through. Well not exactly, but it comes close."

She was right. It did sound awful. It felt like they were treating it as a whole, 'oh no I'm so sorry, anyways' type of thing and not, 'i'm so sorry that happened. Here's how I'm going to make it up to you. Ella didn't really want to hear some sob story when she didn't even know why this had happened, and how she is expected to act like everything was normal, when it wasn't!

"You know I saw first hand how being in Azkaban affects you. My dad was in it…" The healer started.

"Can you not?" Ella said, "You have no idea what I have been through. I killed people. I have been in Azkaban since I was three years old. Everything I have known and cared for is back in Azkaban, including my family."

A glass shattering was heard that made her jump. She looked behind her to see that the vase that held the pretty Alstroemerias as she was sure that was what her Aunt called them, when they picked out a couple of pretty flowers to help brighten her day, was shattered into tiny little pieces. The orange flowers laid on the flower, limply as the water spilled across the mahogany floor.

"Oh no!" The healer said. "I'll fix that right up."

Healer Gonzales pulled out her wand and fixed the glass vase and placed it right back on the bedside table, with the flower petals facing towards them. Ella had a soft smile when she saw the healer at work, and she felt the pang of guilt that this was her fault. She allowed herself to get angry, and destroyed something so beautiful in the process.

Maybe it was something that was meant to happen. Maybe, it meant more than just accidental magic. Maybe it was a sign that she was always going to be destined alone, away from beautiful things, and away from things that she truly loved.

"How about we call it a day?" Healer Gonzales asked. "In our next session, maybe we focus on what it was like in Azkaban or even your family. That sounds like a good idea?"

Ella didn't say anything as she turned her back away from the healer and focused on where the vase was once broken at. Her thoughts swirling. She didn't really hear when her Aunt Cissa came back into the room, and placed her arm on Ella's shoulder, in the means of comfort.

"What happened?" She heard her aunt say. "It couldn't have been that bad to where the vase had to break?"

Ella looked at her with a blank stare.

Narcissa sighed, and sat right next to Ella, "It wasn't that hard to figure out. Considering the fact that a couple of glasses broke downstairs… I feel like it's our fault that we're pushing you to be open and comfortable, but we're not realizing that sometimes the little things that brings us joy can also help."

Narcissa continued on without waiting for Ella to respond, "How about this- we go out for ice-cream, get your training wand and maybe also invite Harrison for dinner. Does that sound like a good plan?"

Ella didn't say anything, but gave her a large, beaming smile instead.

…

Harrison sat crisscrossed on the bed, his back hunched over a little bit. His green eyes pulsing with green, as he looked over the locket once more. The black diary was right next to him, closed, with a quill on top of the black cover. His breathing was a little uneven, as his chest heaved up and down, pulling the magic from inside him into the locket, begging the locket to open up, and reveal its secrets.

But nothing worked.

It was like the locket was spelled shut, and no magic was willing to reveal the locket's contents.

It was like a puzzle he couldn't solve. There was no solution to it whatsoever, but he knew there was something in it. There was something contained inside of it, a brief thought came over him, and he wondered if this may be something like the diary on how Tom Riddle was basically a memory of his sixteen-year-old self, forever contained in the diary for all eternity, unless someone gave him enough magic to give up a corporal body of his own.

Harrison let out a sigh, and he threw the locket on the bed, landing at the foot of the bed. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in the process before he opened his eyes again. He felt clear-minded, with every emotion tucked away- including frustration, tucked behind a wall, and an idea in the forefront of his mind.

It was worth a shot.

Harrison leaned over on his legs, grabbing the chain of the locket with his fingers, and brought it to him. It sat innocently on his lap, and whispered,

*open.*

The locket opened itself, and darkness came pooling out like black smoke. Darkness spread across the bed, from his lap, coating everything in the room with black, and shadows. Within a few seconds, it was like all the light from the room- from the sunlight streaming in, was gone. It was darkness. His vision couldn't adjust as darkness overtook him.

He heard whispers in Parseltongue that he could barely make out. The darkness moved away from him, as it was afraid before it was morphing into something or well, rather someone. It almost looked like the darkness was trying to replicate his worst fear, morphing into a small figure with dirty-blonde, curly hair that looked like it was Ella.

The darkness being Ella made her out to be somewhat tall, her curly blonde hair pulled back out of her face, and not around her face. Her silver eyes contained a wide range of emotions that he can only guess to be bitterness, hurt, and sadness. Sometimes, for only the briefest moment, he could see small wisps of darkness pulling at her silver eyes. The darkness opened its mouth, and Ella's voice came out of it.

"How can you?" Ella said. "Why promise me something that wasn't true?"

Something inside him felt crushed, as if a strand was thinning out for a second. He felt nothing but hardened rage.

The darkness- Ella continued on, her voice filled with disappointment and anger, "You promise you would get them out. You would get my parents out, but that was all a lie… Isn't it?"

He let it continue talking,

"You whispered sweet things that I thought were the truth, but in the end, you failed. You failed to bring the Dark Lord back, you failed…"

Harrison felt anger simmering inside of him as the darkness- Ella played with his emotions that was tucked away. Using his worst fears against him, and using someone who looked up to him, and wanted him to burn down the world to protect each other, and everyone else from the harm of its world- from letting the poison seep through, letting further harm into the magical world. How dare this creature of darkness that wasn't a dementor play with his emotions?

A cold jaded laugh left him, as he realized that this creature was only saying things that weren't true, that hasn't happened. He wasn't going to fail at his mission, and he knew he was to get them out and let the world burn.

Ella looked shocked at the way Harrison responded, and recoiled back into darkness. Darkness encroached his vision once more, before the darkness morphed into another shape. The figure was handsome looking, that would probably rival his looks. He was rather tall, and appeared to be in his early-twenties. He was rather pale looking, and had a small smirk on his pale pink lips. His dark brown eyes contained a small hint of scarlet within them. It almost looked like the crimson red eyes that belonged to the Dark Lord.

"Where am I?" The figure asked, looking around the still-darkened room.

"You're in one of the Black family's ancient houses, Grimmauld place," Harrison told him.

"Impossible," The stranger's tone turned dark, and almost slipped into parseltongue. Harrison saw more of a flash of crimson from his eyes. He was dealing with the younger version of the Dark Lord, then. "Unless… my older self decided to give me to the Black family for safe-keeping, but that's impossible. He wouldn't have given me away."

"Is it possible that one of the Blacks turned traitorous?" Harrison offered. "It doesn't really seem like the Dark Lord would leave his objects behind like that, but then again… I found the diary easily."

Tom Riddle looked over to the black diary that was sitting next to Harrison. The air in the room seemed to drop drastically, as coldness took over. Darkness seemed to coil up to Harrison, until he felt a pressure around his neck, squeezing his neck tightly.

"How dare you have my diary?" Tom Riddle hissed.

Harrison's vision started blacking out as he struggled against the force that held him, letting him unable to breathe. He choked, gasping for any breath he could get his lungs, but that wasn't enough oxygen to get in his lungs. He started clawing at the darkness, begging for air, but the darkness kept a good hold on him.

*I found it, in the Malfoy's library* Harrison managed to whisper, slipping in parseltongue, as his last desperation.

The darkness receded just a little bit to the point where Harrison gasped for air, when the pressure around his throat was gone. He took in several breaths of air before his breathing finally returned to normal, before he looked at Tom Riddle who had a look of curiosity on his face.

*How are you able to speak parseltongue, child?* Tom Riddle asked.

*I've always had it.*

*Impossible,* Tom Riddle said, *Only descendants of Slytherin has it, and I'm the last one*

*You still are.*

Riddle's eyes narrowed,

*Explain.*

*Spiritual adoption.*

Riddle was quiet for a couple of seconds, *Let me in.* It wasn't a question, it was more a demand.

Harrison lowered his shields as the younger Dark Lord went prodding around in his mind, pulling memories from the cells, navigating his way through the deepest, and darkest corners of the prison.

Occasionally, the Dark Lord would stop to look at several of his memories like Ella in Azkaban, the time he was thrown into Azkaban, the first time Harrison found out he was able to speak Parseltongue, even going deeper to find the Potters celebrating Saeviour's birthday and ignoring Harrison, favoriting him. Harrison felt the disdain coming from the younger Dark Lord, radiating off of him, but he continued to let the Dark Lord go through his mind, until he stopped at the memory of the Dark Lord- his older self, nearly killing both of the Potter's kids, and the killing curse rebounded back to the Dark Lord, vaporizing him, in the process.

He felt the Dark Lord still in his mind, replaying the memory, as the killing curse rebounded onto the Dark Lord.

The younger Dark Lord must have found the answer as he exited out of his mind. Harrison quickly put his shields back, mentally adding a note later to reorganize his memories.

*Impossible.* Tom muttered.

Harrison stayed quiet for a few seconds as the younger Dark Lord looked at him, with an odd look on his face. It looked like Harrison was a puzzle that the Dark Lord was going to enjoy unraveling, bit by bit.

"No one can survive the killing curse."

Harrison only shrugged at his response. He was used to that type of response, how it was really weird that his brother survived the killing curse, and didn't die. Everyone asked that, and they were still going to ask that long after Saeviour and the Potters were gone.

"It's a good thing that my older self thought it was a good idea to let you live…" Tom slipped into parseltongue. *You're a valuable asset, child.*

This just turned into two entire messes that things just happened.