(TW & AN: after seriously too much deliberation, Eris and Avalon are listening to 100% Pure Love by Crystal Waters, followed by One Headlight by the Wallflowers, if you're here for the immersion, like future me. There is a dead guy in this chapter and it's a bit graphic.)
I Come With Knives, IAMX
The monotony
And the rising tide
Is under my skin, is crawling inside
Adrenaline to rewire my mind
I'm only human, I come with knives
The paradox or our minds
Too much to believe, too much to deny
You fool me again to quiet my pride
But I'm a human, I come with knives
I never promised you an open heart or charity
I never wanted to abuse your imagination
I come with knives
I come with knives
And agony
To love you
Ginny was waiting for him outside the Room of Requirement when he reached it.
"Are you alright? I was going to ask if you wanted to- come to Hogsmeade…" She asked when she took in his state.
"Uhh," he said, pacing, summoning his bedroom and motioning her inside, "Yeah. I'm Fine."
"Wow, this… Is beautiful. A mess, but… Nice ceiling," she said, looking up.
"It is a mess," Tom agreed, then Harry said, "But my magic isn't working and…"
She flicked her wand a few times and sorted the room, Scorgified his clothes and whipped them into his closet, books arranged on the desk, clippings stacked neatly, ingredients and potions returned to his trunk, plates and cutlery vanished.
'Let me practice or I am going to chew your damn arms off,' Tom hissed in his head, watching Ginny cast.
"How was- Transfiguration?" Harry asked, voice breaking.
"Oh. He's- intense? Right? I swear he kept looking at me like he knew already…" She looked at him, gauging his reaction, but Tom schooled it, pleasantly blank.
"I didn't say anything to him, and he didn't mention anything but- he couldn't know, could he?" She pressed.
"I do not see how he could know," Tom lied.
His body was still vibrating with what he'd just discovered; that the Dark Lord was a… And he felt like his eyes were too wide, that it had to be obvious that he was yelling very loudly in his head, alarm ringing through him in waves, hitting him repeatedly how bizarre… Insane…
"Harry?"
"Everything is…" He didn't look at her, sitting down heavily at the end of the bed. She took the couch, wringing her hands.
"That morning in the forest- I've thought about it a lot," she was so quiet he needed to lean closer, "When we went back to the castle- and before, when you said to- leave him…" She seemed to be searching for a question, "The way you spoke- It's strange, you almost reminded me of… That's crazy- though…"
Harry was startled as he thought about the Horcrux she'd been given by Malfoy Senior. She knew the diary version of Tom quite well by the end of her first year, it was perfectly possible she'd recognized him.
"I'm actually not fine, Ginny, I've had a wild… Morning- week… Months… And I can't… Do this. I Can't. Please get out. I'm sorry. I am. I can't," he was nearly hyperventilating, and she was standing, resisting, until he stood up too, and repeated the order, louder.
She skirted around him -hurt clear on her face- out through the doors.
'She's gonna figure it out before I can even work up to telling her not to join the Order in a complete and cohesive sentence,' Harry thought, sinking to the floor, "It was really… Laying into him, wasn't it?"
"He. The Horcrux certainly appears as sentient as I am, Harry. But yes. I am surprised the Dark Lord has not- done something drastic."
"Do you think he will? Do something drastic? What does that mean?" Harry asked, then without letting Tom answer, "What happens if I die, then? Do I just spring back up? What does it mean? How does it…"
"The prophecy infers that only you and the Dark Lord can end each other, but there are rituals involved with Horcruxes. These rituals usually assume the soul fragment is bound to an object, not another soul. Many strange things have happened as a result of us interacting with the other Horcruxes, partially healing Nagini's blood curse, the Dark Lord's face, the awakening of your Horcrux… To name few. All of it is highly unprecedented. I am guessing all of this; I don't know anything… It is-"
A rush of frustration hit him, close to rage in intensity, before Tom reeled it back in and pretended nothing had happened.
"Yeah, if only Voldemort would invite us around for tea so we could exchange our theories on our-" Harry fell silent.
'We both need this… I need it. Don't- Don't cast, just- let me do it,' Tom thought, before Harry could answer or question, he summoned the curse for the second time that morning, up both arms, around his throat and into his lungs.
He noticed vaguely that he no longer went rigid when the agony wracked him, instead, he went limp, sprawled on the floor and gasping. Tom held it just long enough for the new hunger to build, less intense, taking longer than it had on the steps. When he released it, Harry realised that the sensation had to be Tom's, though he couldn't understand what it was. He didn't respond to the silent questioning, and Harry wasn't about to ask out loud. It felt… Private. Privacy was something they had little of. Which he was reminded of every time they cast. He shifted uncomfortably and pulled himself upright.
He'd also realised that Tom would take several minutes longer to recover from the curse. He was silent, seemingly focused intently on arranging his own thoughts, which again, Harry left him to do, confused but too wary to allow his curiosity to form a question.
That night Cassiopeia came to stand outside the Room of Requirement. He sighed, tucked the map under his pillow, and opened the door.
"Good morning Starshine. Tom is about to wring both of our necks. Here are our options, you come up with a better idea right now, or we place a muzzled Alecto Carrow in the Potions quarters. Or we could die for it, but that seems silly. I really don't want to stand around talking with you about this. Oh, he said uh," she clicked her fingers, looking at the ceiling, "'If Cedrum wishes to take on another apprentice in secrecy that would be his prerogative'," she matched Voldemort's cadence and mannerisms with scary accuracy.
"…Muzzled?" Harry finally asked.
"Not literally, just you know, not allowed to do the sick twisted shit she really really wants to," she tapped him on the nose with one finger.
"Is that… I don't think that's-"
"Look, she's alright at potions and she can read and she's afraid for her life when Tom Riddle is in the room. Will that not do? Dolohov can take over Hooch's position. The healer thing is…" She rolled her eyes, "Anyway I said I wasn't going to stand here, so, good? Alecto Carrow? Antonin Dolohov?"
"…We will see how it goes," Tom said.
"Great. Goodbye," she waved over her shoulder as she walked away.
It was late but it wasn't long past curfew. He re-entered the room and collected the map, searching it for the necromancer. In the Transfiguration classroom with Eris and Avalon. He decided against taking the cloak but tucked the map into his robes.
Tom was unusually quiet while they walked. Harry was pretending that the Death Eaters and his Horcrux weren't really real. He reached the Transfiguration classroom, brain strangely empty. He hesitated, wondered if he should knock before the door swung open.
Loud music hit his ears as the bizarre scene reached his eyes. All the desks had been moved aside to make space for a naked man, on his back on the floor, a small scrap of fabric his only dignity; very clearly dead. His chest was open, his ribcage exposing his heart, where Eris carved into the muscle with a tiny blade, blood up to his elbows, bopping his head to the unreasonably happy beat. Avalon was dancing in an off-white nightgown, blindfolded with a white band of cloth, shaking her hips, and covered in blood with a knife in her hand. Cedrum sat behind his desk, in pinstripe pyjamas, holding a pipe. He motioned Harry to sit in the spare chair, as he slowly entered, jaw wide, the door slammed shut behind him, making him jump.
"Sorry about the music and the scene, I can cancel neither. Avalon likes it for her focus, and we need to get this man prepared before dawn, for your Dark Lord," Cedrum said as Harry sat down, not able to tear his eyes away from the scene to look at the professor.
"Uh, he's not my- he's not my Dark Lord- I'm-" Harry trailed off, eyes flicked between Eris, Avalon, and their work.
"You're here about your friend?" The necromancer continued, and he finally managed to look at him.
"How much has he told you?" Tom asked, almost startling Harry.
"That she is a true necromancer, in need of teaching, should she approach me."
"Sorry, is it normal to," Harry mimed cracking open ribs, "to do… To like," he gestured at the ritual and thought of Ron and Ginny.
"Runes on the heart help the connection. Allows for distance, certain magical usages, casting through them. They can never Apparate, though, only side-along. They help stop the decay. So, you can make them warm, beat their heart, all without constantly exerting energy… But the whole thing is a lot of effort, and the runes need replacing," it was Eris who answered him, almost yelling over the music, and glaring at Avalon though she couldn't see him, still dancing.
"It's art," she said.
"How- how often do they… Need replacing?" Harry asked.
The song changed, and Avalon said, "Oh, I love this one. Are you nearly done?"
"Every two to three weeks," Eris answered Harry, glaring at her.
"Am I to take this as Ginevra Weasley approaching me?" Cedrum finally said.
Harry watched the blonde crunch the stranger's ribcage back into place, correcting his flesh over the top of the bones with a wet slap, then wordlessly sealing the wound with his wand. Avalon was still swaying to the song as she began to chant, not louder than the muggle music, stepping side to side to the beat. He saw it click, the colour flooding the man's skin, his chest rising, the pulse hammering in his neck as he sat up, staring blankly.
'I do not think you should be judging for Ginny whether this is too gruesome for her. She is not inexperienced, and her only stopping point was that no one would approve, you paid for her to choose,' Tom thought as he deliberated.
"She needs… Secrecy. Can you do that?" Harry asked.
Cedrum laughed, then Avalon did.
"We have kept a secret a time or two," the professor said, as Avalon removed her blindfold, smearing blood on her forehead.
"Oho, ready for official business!" She clapped, looking at the recently reanimated man, "Un art magnifique!"
"You're not the one who did the carving," Eris frowned at her as he Scorgified his arms after failing with a towel.
"I opened his ribs you're always such a wah wah bébé," she made a 'boo-hoo' gesture.
"Take him to the vampire please," Cedrum interrupted them quickly. Harry noticed he hadn't lit his pipe.
The dead man stood up, dropping his scrap of fabric, making Harry look away sharply. He heard the door open and close. When he looked back, Eris and Avalon were still in the room, cleaning up blood and packing up supplies, righting the desks. Harry wondered if they'd just sent a stark-naked dead man to wander the castle in search of Cassiopeia.
"I am free tomorrow at five twenty-nine. If she would like to discuss it with me, she can meet me here," Cedrum was standing so Harry did the same, nodded, and scurried from the classroom.
Out of curiosity he checked the map and saw the name 'Albert Runcorn' heading down a corridor not far from him. He tucked it back in his robes and slowed down, frowning while his brain sputtered.
He stopped walking, exhaustion seeping in, overwhelming. Tom leaned them on a window frame, and he could see the grounds through one small square of clear glass; obscured by the wobble in the pane, too dark to see anything but a patch of deep blue lawn.
"I didn't ask for any of this- how do I… This is insane. I'm going insane," Harry hissed, pressing his face to the cold stained glass as he tried to keep his breathing even.
"A free bird leaps on the back of the wind and floats downstream till the current ends and dips his wing in the orange sun rays, and dares to claim the sky," Tom summoned the curse while he spoke, seemingly taking Harry's lack of resistance as permission to snake it up his wrist and around his neck, squeezing.
"But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage can seldom see through his bars of rage; his wings are clipped, and his feet are tied, so, he opens his throat to sing."
Harry had closed his eyes and put his full weight on the stones.
"The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill; for the caged bird sings of freedom," the curse had become almost too tight around his throat, but Tom continued to whisper in Parseltongue as the blackness fried Harry's mind and lit his nerves on fire.
"The free bird thinks of another breeze, and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees, and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn, and he names the sky his own."
He noticed that his fists were clenched and shaking, the curse looped tightly enough to make his breathing difficult, but he still didn't resist, brow furrowed on the glass, eyes squeezed shut.
"But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams; his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream; his wings are clipped and his feet are tied, so, he opens his throat to sing," he released Harry and he slid down the bricks into a pile, "The caged bird sings with a fearful trill, of things unknown but longed for still, and his tune is heard on the distant hill; for the caged bird sings of freedom."
Monday morning Tom insisted that they start going to classes again. He told Harry that if he wanted to be sure the students were being treated well, he'd need to look at them. He was also, still, of the mind that he could scare them quiet. Harry was certain he could.
While he didn't want to face his peers, he was going mad locked in the Room of Requirement, only leaving it to scramble his brain; a bizarre pattern of excruciating mundane punctuated by events so bizarre he couldn't readily comprehend them. He was certain returning to classes would bring more insanity than the mundane, but he found himself agreeing anyway. For how long was up for debate.
He'd also, begrudgingly, agreed to let Tom practice with their magic. Alone, after curfew and far from the school.
His heart was thundering in his throat as he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady and said to her: "Golden Snidget," to be told the password had changed.
"Great," he told her, sighing and leaning into the bricks as he resolved to wait outside to apologize to Ginny.
She was one of the first out, but she came with Hermione. Harry straightened and Tom was immediately at the forefront. Seamus and Neville were right behind them, causing a block in the portrait hole as they stared at each other.
"Ginny, may I speak with you… Privately?"
'…Might as well start calling her Ginevra,' Harry thought.
'The urge has struck me. You are welcome for my refrain.'
"Oh, sure, I'll- I'll see you later…" She ducked away from Hermione, who scowled at Harry the entire exchange.
She walked alongside him quietly, until they were far enough away from the Gryffindor's for Harry to speak.
"I'm sorry. About yesterday. I-" Harry had been about to say more but Tom interrupted him, "I spoke to Cedrum. He would like to see you, later this evening.'
"Oh, today? Oh," she frowned and slowed down, until she'd stopped, "He wants to see me?"
"Yes…" Tom said, Harry stopped him from saying 'obviously'.
"Alone?"
"Well, you did want secrecy," Harry said.
"Yeah, but…" She swallowed, looked up and down the corridor, gnawed her lip, "Would you- would you come with me?"
Harry thought about it while Tom automatically agreed. She sighed with relief and gave him a small, pained smile.
They decided to brave the Great Hall, though Harry desperately didn't want to. He kept his face blank as they pushed through the huge double doors, a hush falling on the already quiet hall when they entered. At once several students shot up out of their seats and bolted from the side exits, followed by another ten or so, slower to react.
Ginny gave him a small attempt at an encouraging smile as they moved over to the Gryffindor table and sat down in silence, Harry feeling like he really shouldn't be there, a sentiment shared by the majority of the students remaining in the hall.
"Just don't look at them," Ginny said, so he looked at them, all looking at him, most of them sneering. He ducked his head back down.
"I did say don't," she said, grabbing some bacon and letting it sit on her plate.
Tom responded by straightening his back, setting his face to stone; a cold glare as he slowly scanned the faces of the hall; making eye contact until they looked away, moving to the next, rapidly staring them down.
'Do not wince away from them again, hear me?' Tom scolded in his mind, for some reason flushing Harry's cheeks. He made to duck his head again but stopped himself.
'…Good.'
Harry's ears went red, and he reached for juice, hands twitching.
(AN: Tom recites Caged Bird, by Maya Angelou.)