Chapter 19. Strength of Will
Minnie was talking again but Harry was lost in his mind, stuck facing a wall in an impromptu dueling hall.
"You're not even listening to me, are you?"
"What?" Harry blinked. Minnie looked quite annoyed. "Oh, erm..."
"Oh, never mind," she snapped, "You've been like this all day. Just hold the table, will you?"
Harry nodded, glancing down at his potions essay as she stalked off toward the bookshelves. They'd gone to the library to work on some homework but he'd only managed a few sentences. Fuck. This was all Tom's fault.
He had to know. Harry hadn't exactly been subtle about it—turning to face the wall like that... Idiotic. And yet, Tom had spoken to him between classes today as if nothing had changed. Was there a chance he didn't know?
Merlin, he hoped so. The alternative was too humiliating. Harry could feel his cheeks beginning to warm even thinking of it now.
It wasn't his fault. It had just been the adrenaline. Coming to from a vision on the floor with Tom's hands pinning his bare wrists, his knee between his thighs, his stupid, handsome face inches from his own... That had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all to do with how mortifyingly hard he'd been.
"Nothing at all," he muttered, rolling his quill between his fingers. The words tasted like a lie. "Fuck."
He couldn't deny it, no matter how he wanted to. He was... attracted. To Tom. Physically.
Harry buried his head in his hands and groaned.
"Look, if you're really having this much trouble with this essay you can just ask you know."
Harry looked up to see Minnie slip back into the seat across from her empty-handed. "No, I'm—I'm fine thanks. So," he gestured at her vaguely, "No luck then?"
Minnie pursed her lips, but let it go. "No. Looks like everyone else got to it first. The Curse section was practically empty."
"Damn."
She nodded but said, "I'm not too worried. We can always ask around."
"Yeah, that's true." Harry went back to staring at his essay until—
"So... You want to tell me what's been bothering you?"
Harry's head snapped up. "What?"
"Don't 'what?' me, Evans, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Minnie scolded.
Harry glanced away; he could feel his cheeks starting to burn again. "Look, it doesn't matter, okay?"
"Mm, well, obviously it does," she challenged snarkily, "You've been distracted all day." When he refused to talk, jaw set stubbornly, she sighed. "Harry... I'm just worried, okay? You're my friend. Even when you're being annoying."
Despite himself, Harry's lips twitched. "I know. I just... I don't want to talk about it right now."
Minnie's face softened. "Alright. Well, if you change your mind, I'm here."
Affection bloomed in Harry's chest as her hand reached out to touch his only to falter. Impulsively, he closed the distance, grabbing her hand, and the world splintered. In the void of his mind, Harry admired the golden, glittering, flowing threads of light he'd become familiar with before reaching out to a future thread. As it crumbled into sand, he was thrown into a vision.
Though simple, the sight of Minnie, Al, Augusta, and Harry laughing at an unfamiliar pub in dress robes filled Harry with the warmth of friendship. When he came to, he told Minnie as much.
She squeezed his hand and smiled.
The sight of Harry holding Minerva McGonagall's hand filled Tom with an unpleasant feeling that left his wand-hand twitching. For whatever reason. So, he left. The Hogwarts library was nothing compared to the Athenaeum of Slytherin anyways. Besides, he thought as he walked briskly down the corridor, he wanted to finish what little he had left of "Mind Over Matter."
"Mind Over Matter: Advanced Topics in Legilimency" had been a helpful tome; he'd all but devoured it over the past few days. That being said, in practice he was yet to glean more than fleeting emotions and thoughts from his peers. Hopefully, the last chapter or two of the book would provide more guidance, but he doubted it. Tom would likely need to scour the bookshelves of the Athenaeum for a more practical guide. Perhaps then he'd be able to determine Harry's secrets.
Or McGonagall's. Not that she had many. It was painfully obvious that she harbored a little crush on Harry; the conversation Tom had listened in on and the stupid, saccharine expression he'd seen on her face just now told him as much. No, that was clear. The odd look she'd given him on Saturday, however... It had been a knowing look. What the fuck could she know about Harry and him? Unless... Perhaps Harry had confided in her about something. Tom's jaw clenched at the irritating thought. The only person Harry should be confiding in was him. Had Tom not shown he held a vested interest in Harry's well-being?
His dark musing carried him through the hallways until he at last arrived before the entrance to the Athenaeum. A brief exchange in Parseltongue and a blood offering later, he was plunging through icy, crushing magic and emerging onto the balcony of the hidden library. Some of the tension in his body melted away as Tom paused to revel in the impressive sight. Pleased and prideful, he strode over to the spiral staircase a moment later and made his way over to the regal desk where he'd left "Mind over Matter."
Sinking into the chair, Tom picked it up and leafed through the pages to the beginning of the penultimate chapter. A quick skim of it and the final chapter confirmed it; if he wanted a practical guide he'd need to find another text.
"Accio Legilimency books." Tom lazily waved his wand only to frown as nothing moved. Don't tell me... he thought. "Accio books." Tom braced himself for a barrage he knew wouldn't come. Not a single book flew toward him. "Fuck."
Sighing, the gilded chair made a muffled scraping noise against the rug as Tom stood. A flick of his hand sent "Mind Over Matter" flying back to its shelf; he followed it. As the book settled onto the bookshelf, Tom ran his finger along the neighboring tomes, searching. Only, as he read title after title, as he pulled book after book off the shelves, he could find no link to Legilimency or Mind Magic at all. The books, in fact, seemed to be placed at random on the shelves.
A small noise of irritation slipped past his lips. How was he supposed to work under these conditions?
Pushing his annoyance aside, Tom continued to scour the shelves, setting aside those texts he deemed most interesting. Eventually, he came across a book without a title on the spine and paused. While there were several other books without titles on these shelves, those had not made the tips of his fingers buzz when he moved to touch them. Curious, Tom cast several diagnostic spells that came back clean. Suddenly, he was reminded of Harry's soft voice.
"The bookshelf swung open revealing a secret passageway."
Excitement began to bubble in his chest and Tom impulsively gave in and pulled on the mysterious book. True to Harry's word, the shelf creakily swung toward him, forcing Tom to back away. In the bookshelf's stead was a gaping hole, revealing a long, dark passageway beyond it.
Tom began to laugh. How many more wonders were hidden in this glorious library? And, more importantly, could this passageway lead him to the Chamber?
Without pause, Tom grabbed a book from the pile he'd been making—a rather intriguing and ancient text on rare Dark curses that could prove helpful—and delved into the dark. He conjured up a small ball of light that bobbed before him as he crept down the long passageway.
The very long passageway. Several minutes of walking passed and Tom was left wondering just how deep under the lake the Athenaeum was. Just as he was starting to grow a little bored, he suddenly and with no warning stepped through a familiar freezing waterfall of magic. Uncomfortable, he pressed forward until the sensation vanished and he found himself in a well-lit hallway he recognized as being on the 5th floor. Still reeling from the shocking cold and surprised at his location, Tom barely noticed as his little ball of light popped out of existence. A split second later, the book in his right hand disintegrated to dust. This he did notice and he cried out in shock.
"Where in the blazes did you come from?!" a gruff voice yelled out, and Tom whirled on his heel to face a portrait of a rather skinny monk.
"Apologies, sir," Tom said mechanically, staring down at his dirty hand. "I'll be on my way."
"Now see here!" the monk yelled, but Tom was already stalking off to the Hogwarts library.
He had some preservation charms to research.
At last, Wednesday—and the highly anticipated Defense lesson—arrived, but as Harry watched as one by one his classmates burst out in song he wondered why on earth everyone (including himself) had been looking forward to this.
"Evans!" Merrythought barked and Virgil Dolohov slinked back to his seat, face red.
"Remember," Minnie whispered as Harry stood, "Strength of will."
Harry nodded sharply at her before he made his way to the front of the classroom. That was all the textbooks had revealed. Strength of will. And of character, but no one really knew what that meant.
"Right here if you please, Mr. Evans," Professor Merrythought said, just as she had to Atlas Abbot and Susan Adams and Curtis Avery and why did his new last name have to be so early on in the alphabet? Orion Black and Cynthia Bones had taken no time at all and Dolohov even less so. And every one of them had failed.
It was now his turn.
"Ready, Mr. Evans?" she asked. He nodded and she raised her wand. "Imperio."
It was the strangest, most wonderful feeling Harry had ever felt. Every thought and worry in his head seemed to melt away, leaving nothing but pure contentment as he floated along there in his mind. He vaguely registered people watching him but he couldn't draw up any emotions beyond dull joy.
After a time—long or short, he couldn't tell—Professor Merrythought's voice echoed through his mind. Sing for me... Sing a song...
Harry opened his mouth to sing.
"Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you? We got some work to do now," He took a breath.
Sing a song...
Why though?
"...Scooby Dooby Doo, w-where are you?"
Something, another voice had woken up.
"We need some help..."
Sing a song...
"...from you now,"
I don't like singing, the voice said.
Sing a song.
"...C-come on Sc-Scooby Doo, I see you..."
Sing.
No, I don't think I want to.
"Pret-tending you've—got a s-sliver..."
Sing!
No, I don't want to.
"..."
Sing! NOW!
"But—Agh! No!"
Harry was panting as if he'd run a marathon when the world came back to him in a rush.
"Brilliant!" Professor Merrythought crowed from beside him. "Did you see that? He fought it! Now that's what we're looking for!"
The Scooby-Doo theme song? Really?! Harry decided to ignore the embarrassment that was steadily warming his cheeks and worked on catching his breath.
"—watch his eyes this time, you lot," Merrythought was saying, "that's where you can see the first signs of resistance. You ready for another round, Harry?"
"W-What?" Harry gaped, alarmed.
"Good! Imperio!"
All his worries faded away.
Three Imperios and two increasingly butchered renditions of the Scooby-Doo theme song later, Harry collapsed back into his seat. He'd actually... resisted the Imperius curse. Successfully. And completely by the fourth one.
It was shocking.
And not just to him. As Harry sat there losing his mind a little, he could feel the eyes of his classmates on him. Even Augusta bursting out singing a jazzy and (by 1940s standards) rather raunchy number wasn't enough to draw all the eyes away.
Was it the Time magic that made him so resistant? Or something else? Perhaps it really was the 'strength of will.' Harry always had been stubborn.
As more and more of his classmates went up and sang, attention shifted away from Harry and he found it easier to set aside the distracting shock and pay attention. So far no one had been able to throw it off as Harry had. When Professor Merrythought called the name Harry knew was coming, he had a feeling that would change.
"Riddle!"
Harry watched as Tom passed Ignatius Prewett on his way up to the front of the class. When the teen turned to face the class, his eyes immediately met Harry's.
"Ready, Mr. Riddle?"
"As I'll ever be."
"Imperio."
Tom's eyes glazed over and Harry leaned forward, morbidly curious.
Tom Riddle opened his mouth and sang, his voice pure, high, and clear, "Siiilent niiight, holyyy niiight."
Harry couldn't help himself and he snorted indecently.
"All is calm, all is bright,"
Minnie, who herself had sung a rather gruff rendition of "The Bonnie Banks o' Loch Lomond," elbowed him hard in the side. "Shut up," she hissed.
"Round yon Viiirgin, Mother and Child,"
As his side felt bursting to split, Harry couldn't tell if it was Minnie's elbow or the strain of trying not to laugh.
"Holy iiinfant so tender and mild,"
A tear may have slipped down his cheek as Harry stuffed his fist in his mouth.
"Sleeeeep in heaaaavenly peeeeace,"
He buried his face in his arms, shoulders shaking.
"Sleeep in heaaaavenly peaceee."
"Very nice, Mr. Riddle," Professor Merrythought said, canceling the curse.
Even as Harry lifted his head from his arms, he didn't trust himself to make eye contact with Tom. Nevertheless, he could still feel the scorching heat of his glare.
"Would you like to try again?"
She had offered this to everyone.
"Yes ma'am." Tom's voice sounded stiff.
"Alright," Professor Merrythought said, and Harry finally looked up. "Imperio."
Harry was grinning expectantly, waiting for the high vibrato as Tom opened his mouth.
Instead of a song, he said, "No."
Harry couldn't bring himself to be alarmed when Tom managed to ambush him after Herbology later. Surprised, yes—one second, he had been walking alone, the next he was being pinned against a wall and yanked to his toes by his tie—but alarmed, no.
"You," Tom growled menacingly, "Were laughing at me."
Harry, who had relaxed when seeing it was Tom, fought to keep a straight face as he replied, "Only a little."
Tom's grip on his tie tightened and he yanked it up higher, forcing Harry to crane his neck if he wanted to breathe. "Shut up. You will meet me in the same place as before and we will duel, Harry Evans, or so help me I will—"
"I'll be there, Tom," Harry spat out, "God. Let go of me, will you?"
Tom blinked. Some of the anger drained from his eyes. "7 o'clock, Harry."
"7 o'clock," he reassured him, and Tom let go of his tie. "We will duel."
"Duel," Tom stressed, "Not wrestle."
"Shut up, Tom," Harry snapped, ignoring the weird swoop in his stomach. As if I'd let it get to that point again, Harry thought as Tom stalked off. He would not be wrestling with Tom again.
And he didn't... that time.
That duel became the first of many. As September ended and October began, Tom made a habit of demanding duels with Harry, often for no reason. Harry had a vague idea that it was related to the sudden increase in attention directed his way; talk of Harry's ability to resist the Imperius Curse had pulled him (reluctantly) to the spotlight. For some reason he didn't understand, he found his name popping up in various Inter-House Dueling Tournament betting pools along with Tom's. It was bizarre. Even more bizarre, Tom seemed to agree with them, citing it as a reason to duel more, fight more, until they were dueling almost daily.
And half the time? Half the time they ended up on the floor. The first couple of times, he'd gotten flustered, of course, but it was hard to stay flustered when curses or fists were being flung at you, and now he was just used to it. And it was exhilarating.
Almost too exhilarating.
Luckily though, Harry had taken to wanking before they dueled so he didn't have to worry about that happening again. Much. A couple of times, he could've sworn Tom had gotten hard but when that happened, Tom always moved in such a way that Harry couldn't be certain.
The idea of it though... He tried not to think about it.