/Text/ Spirit to Host

/Text/ Host to Spirit

Chapter 43: Voices

"Seto?"

Eyes snapped open to find his vision sideways, intimately close to the pages of a book. He blinked suddenly and forced himself upright again, pushing past the sharp ache that formed in the back of his neck from being hunched over for however long.

The clock on the far end of the aisle showed it was nearly ten minutes until curfew, and Seto rubbed the last bit of disorientation from his eyes and glanced around. He was in the Library, tucked away in the familiar corner between Magical Law and Legilimency. A number of books were stacked around him and his quill was resting idly on top of the parchment. Ink had smeared across his hand, no doubt by dragging along the parchment from whenever he nodded off.

Whenever he nodded off. He certainly didn't remember choosing to spend time in the Library. He hadn't felt the need to hide here since the first term. Unused classrooms were much more preferable than worrying about which gaggle of Hufflepuffs were ogling him, giggling quietly from the other end of the bookstacks.

He looked up. Hermione was standing off to the side, a thick tome on South American runes in her arms and clutched against her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Are you alright?"

"…Fine," Seto said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Another headache was forming, he could feel it. Another tally to add to the list for the week.

"Everyone was looking for you," she said, her voice laced with worry. "Have you been here all day?"

Yes, whispered a voice that didn't quite sound like his own, just loud enough to be heard, from the depths of his mind, and he paused. …He really didn't remember when he arrived, but he let the thought shuffle away. With all of the sleep he had missed thus far, it was a miracle he even remembered what day it was.

Saturday, he told himself, and checked it against his watch, feeling a greater relief than he initially anticipated seeing that his expectation still matched reality.

Hermione dismissed his lack of answer and looked him over. His eyes were dull and hair was slightly disheveled, but then again, she had just found him using a massive law text for a pillow.

"…I didn't think I would find you in here," she said, "You haven't spent time in the Library since before Christmas."

"…Change of pace," Seto muttered.

Hermione hummed quietly, and tilted her head to read the title on the open book on the top of the pile. "Did something happen to your phone?"

"No," Seto said. His phone sat on the other side of the inkwell basin. There was no trace that a half-giant had even stepped on it.

"Oh," she said simply, her brows furrowed, but she didn't say anything else.

A flick of irritation crossed Seto's face. "Is there something you needed?" he asked, his voice oddly frigid. In his head, it strangely sounded more like the random voice he heard, not his own.

She paused, surprised at the chill in his voice and the equally cold look forming on his face. He didn't seem bitter when she first arrived. Surely he wasn't just trying to hide embarrassment at being caught napping in the Library. Loads of students have done it trying to cram for exams.

Shoot, she's caught herself nodding off at times too. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

Hermione quickly recovered and tapped two fingers against her wrist. "It's nearly curfew," she said. "I don't want you to get into trouble with Madam Pince, or with Filch if you're caught out after hours."

She reached for one of the books on the other side of the table, recognizing it as one he had checked out back in September. If he fixed his technology, why did he still need it?

"I remember this one," she said casually, and looked up at him, her eyes brightening a little. "Is this to help with your duel disk problem? To keep the emitters from overloading?" After everything these past weeks, she didn't blame him one bit if he wished to return to his favorite game as an outlet.

Why is she so inquisitive? The voice in his head bit out bitterly, what gives her the right to interrupt your work?

Seto pushed the nagging voice away. It wasn't his own, or Set's, and he hadn't the slightest idea to where it had come from, but he couldn't figure why it was in such a mood. As far as he was concerned, he hadn't worked on much of anything since falling asleep at the table. There wasn't anything for her to interrupt. And even if she had, Hermione was right – he would soon have to vacate the Library so he wouldn't be getting anything else finished tonight.

Hermione glanced over at him when he still wouldn't answer. Something was definitely off. Yugi had mentioned yesterday that Seto hadn't been sleeping well. It wouldn't be the first time this had happened, but he was never this irritable over it. It appeared for a brief moment that he was going to say something, and by the look on his face probably bite her head off, but then he seemed to swallow down whatever it was and stayed quiet.

She let go of the book and sat down opposite him, watching his cold eyes follow her move. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Peachy."

She drew back. She could have been Umbridge for how harsh that one-word answer seemed to slap her right in the face. This had to be from him not sleeping. She had seen him angry before, but not this way. Every time he bit out a scathing remark, he turned away from her once he seemed to realize it, softening slightly, but still refusing to meet her gaze.

Exhaustion was clearly winning out for him.

Hermione sighed. She wished there was something, anything, she could do, but she knew how incredibly stubborn he was. What he needed was a push to Gryffindor Tower and a healthy dose of a sleeping potion. Unfortunately, it would be easier to draw blood from a rock than get him to admit he needed help, even for something as mundane as getting a proper night's rest.

It was a miracle that he even opened up to her out on the Quidditch Pitch. He clearly struggled with it, but it was something. And despite however fatigued or in pain he still might have been, it was a major step.

Now it seemed like he was back to bottling down his frustrations, and while it was maddening, there was nothing she could really do. One step forward, two steps back.

But progress wasn't always linear.

The clock on the wall chimed on the hour, and she reached again for the few books scattered on her end of the table.

"Would you like me to take these up to Madam Pince for you while you gather your things? I can walk you back to Gryffindor Tower while I make rounds, so if you come across anyone you won't get into trouble."

"I got it," he muttered, slamming the book shut with more force than he needed to exert. The parchment was stuffed back into his bag, the stopper jammed onto the inkpot.

His wand was plucked up from the desk and he waved it in a quick, jerking motion at the books on the table. They sprang up from their resting positions and flew back towards the bookshelves, slipping back perfectly to their homes as if the section hadn't been disturbed all day.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Seto!" she hissed, looking around wildly for Madam Pince, as if the strict librarian was going to pop up from around a bookstack at any moment and beat them both over the head with a floating encyclopedia. "We can't cast magic in here!"

"I don't have to time to waste here. I have work to do," Seto found himself saying, but he didn't think those words. It was definitely his voice though – what the hell? And before he could stop himself, he brushed right past her and out of the library, leaving her standing there, mouth agape.

He didn't stop moving until he was on the last staircase, floating its way up to the seventh-floor corridor. His feet seemed to move of their own accord, which was fine because he couldn't keep himself straight even if he wanted to.

What did he just witness? Not even witness – experience? Okay, waking up confused in the Library was odd. He hadn't stayed in there to work in months. But there was no excuse for his behavior.

Do not dwell on her, said the voice. You are tired. Overworked.

Seto furrowed his brow as he climbed back through the portrait hole. Didn't the stranger in the back of his head just tell her he had work to do? Because he certainly didn't – not tonight. It was Saturday, the office was closed, and he caught himself up on the mundane events of yesterday last night.

So what was that? A lie just to get rid of her? Even feeling at his worst, he never treated Hermione that way. Joey Wheeler? A member of Yugi's Preaching Parade? Sure. But they weren't his friends, and he didn't like them.

Your work is none of her business, said the voice said in his ear, she is a nag who by now should know better that you prefer to work in peace. If she were smart, she would have left you alone.

'She worries', Seto thought back, 'And there was nothing to interrupt, except an impromptu nap.'

The voice took a harsher tone. She is no different than her friends, and you would not hesitate to tell them off for bothering you. What she needs is to keep out.

Seto paused on the landing in front of his dormitory. Harry and Ron? They wouldn't even have bothered to look for him in the Library, so the point was moot. But he didn't have the same rapport with them. They befriended Yugi and Ryou, sure, but they weren't like the Nerd Herd. And despite the mistrust he had in them when the year first started, they didn't grate on his nerves (much) anymore.

Seto shook his head and sent his own scathing reply to the disembodied voice. 'Why don't you do the same?'

Ryou was the only one of their group at breakfast when Seto entered the Great Hall. Not incredibly surprising, Ryou was the only other one among them that was a somewhat early riser.

He smiled up at him when Seto sat down, reaching for the coffee that appeared at his side the moment he had settled in. "You look a bit better this morning," he said mildly, waiting for Seto to down his first cup like a shot of liquor before pouring another. It was only then that he was given attention. "Sleep?"

Seto snorted. "No."

Ryou frowned. "Oh, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," said Seto, looking at Ryou directly. "I wanted to see you before the rest of them showed up."

Ryou raised an eyebrow. "Me?"

Seto nodded. "We need to talk."

Ryou blinked. The tone of his voice almost suggested that he had wronged him, and he couldn't figure out for the life of him what it could be. "I…did I do something?"

Seto quickly shook his head as more students started filing into the Great Hall. "No, but…not here."

Curiously, Ryou followed Seto back out of the Great Hall and into an abandoned classroom on the second floor. "Is…this for me to hear? Or my spirit?"

"I don't care if he listens in," said Seto, "But I don't need him."

/Well…/ Bakura bristled from their corridor, but he didn't make a move to spirit out beside Ryou. /Don't I feel special./

Seto leaned up against one of the desks pushed against the wall and pinched the bridge of his nose. "…What was it like?" he asked, an unusual trace of uncertainty wavering in his voice, "…before you two formed…." He waved a hand. "…Whatever it is you two have?"

Ryou furrowed his brow and glanced down to where the Ring was hiding under his sweater. "Before the Ring found me? Or before the Spirit and I came to an understanding?"

"Yes."

Ryou bit his lip. His memories of the early days with the Spirit in the Ring were not comfortable to bring up. "Well…" he said slowly, "Can you maybe be a little more specific?"

He watched Seto sigh and stare up at the ceiling. Apparently whatever this was about wasn't something he wanted to talk about either, and despite the discomfort, he found it curious that of all people, Seto came to him instead of, say, Yugi.

Seto ran a hand along his jaw before setting his tired eyes on Ryou. "Have you had a sort of out of body experience?"

"Probably," said Ryou, "I mean, the first time the Spirit dueled Yugi, he stuck us in the forms of our favorite cards. Waking up as the Change of Heart was weird, to put it mildly."

"No, not that," Seto shook his head. "Not a Shadow Game."

"Oh…"

Ryou hopped back onto the desk beside Seto, and swung his legs lightly back and forth. "I'm not quite sure what it is you want. I've always had a sort of inkling about the Spirit. He made himself known very early on, even if I had no say in his decisions." He paused. "I'm sure you know of how we bonded."

"No, but from the times your spirit and Set lash out at each other, I imagine it wasn't pleasant."

"No," Ryou sighed. This wasn't exactly a conversation he wanted to have, but if, in some weird way, it helped with whatever was bothering Seto, then it was worth it. "I've had the Ring for a long time, as long as Yugi's probably had the Puzzle, but before he put it together. Some of the details are a bit hazy, since I was rather young, but I first noticed strange things happening when I was a little older. I would invite friends over for the custom campaigns I would create, and they would just fall into comas while we played." Or worse…

"We moved around quite a bit, since it was just the two of us and he followed wherever work took him, but it was rather strange that no matter where I went, tragedy just kept following. I didn't always think it was the Ring, since it came and disappeared many times while I was younger. But once I moved to Domino, it just would not come off. And, well, by then if I did something that he didn't like…."

Ryou shuddered. He probably didn't need to go into the exact details of how the Spirit would keep him in line. Just thinking about it made the faint scars on his chest ache, an echo of a time long past. "…Is this…any of this helpful?"

"I don't know," Seto said.

Ryou tilted his head.

Seto looked at him. "Battle City. You were in my tournament, but I know for a fact you didn't actually enter."

Ryou groaned. "Oh, that. Well…there's a story to go along with that, but I know you won't care for most of it."

Seto folded his arms across his chest and stared down at his shoes. There was no point in trying to beat around the bush. He was quiet for a minute, to gather his thoughts together, and then looked to Ryou again. "On my blimp, during your duel with Yugi, the Spirit let you go, and you hadn't a clue to where you were."

Ryou smiled faintly. "I was a bit out of it. He had just stabbed me in the arm and then fled the hospital in order to procure a duel disk. At the time, the Spirit liked to do whatever he wanted, and he didn't care of the expense so long as he could do whatever he wanted. He only stopped whatever deal he had with Marik and took control again during that duel because if I was seriously hurt by Yugi's attack, his existence would be in jeopardy."

"But you didn't remember any of that happening."

"Remember which part?"

"Leading up to the duel."

"Oh," Ryou frowned. "No, I didn't. It wasn't the first time either. I don't know if you heard of the time Yugi was trapped with Bandit Keith in a burning warehouse, but Téa had stopped and asked me for help that day, and the Spirit just sort of took over and honestly, I went from trying to walk to school to…attacking Bandit Keith…and…"

He frowned. "…Some point after I was back on the street. There were bits in the middle that I just can't recall. Like how I got to the warehouse in the first place, or when I left. I know the Spirit had to be in control, but everything else is just blank."

Ryou sighed. "Of course, part of the problem is that Yugi and his friends will swear it was me they were talking to, but it was actually the Spirit. He's gotten fairly good at impersonations."

Seto nodded slowly.

"None of that though has happened much after Battle City," said Ryou, "While you and Yugi were off dealing with that Orichalcos thing, the Spirit and I came to an understanding, of sorts. I won't say that we're as close as Yugi is to the Pharaoh, but at least I don't have sudden blackouts anymore."

He looked at Seto curiously. "Why do you ask?"

"I blacked out yesterday – ('fell asleep working' said the voice in his ear) – and woke up in the Library," said Seto.

Ryou tilted his head, his eyes full of sympathy. "You're tired, Kaiba."

Seto quickly held up a hand, quieting him. "I tend to hide in undisturbed corners of the castle. I haven't gone into the Library in months. But I don't even remember going there."

"Well…" Ryou said, "What is the last thing you do remember?"

"Leaving the common room."

"Where did you plan on going?"

"I don't really know," said Seto, and to Ryou's raised eyebrow, added, "I don't plan ahead of time on which unused classroom I go to. I pick a floor and choose one at random."

"Hm," said Ryou, "Could it be – and I know this isn't the answer you want to hear – but is it possible that you're not as…."

How could he put this? "…Adjusted to being back as you thought? You've admitted before that you're not sleeping. Maybe –"

"I'm hearing voices."

Ryou stopped short. "Voices?"

Now Bakura spirited out of the Ring, narrowed eyes laser-focused on Seto. "Whose voice?"

Seto shook his head. "It's definitely not mine, and it can't be Set's."

Ryou drummed his fingers along the edge of the desk. Was that why he was so interested in what life was like before he had some semblance of a relationship with the Dark Spirit? Sure, he experienced both of those things before the Spirit would finally get around to talking with him properly, but, at the same time he had the Ring. He knew that something was a little odd even before his mind first took him to their shared corridor and he met his look-a-like face to face.

But if Kaiba was truly split apart from the Millennium Rod, the only voice in his head should be his own.

"I want to say that you haven't truly recovered enough," said Ryou, "Maybe Madam Pomfrey was too quick to let you out…"

Even as he said those words, he knew it wouldn't have mattered. Once Kaiba was physically well enough, she would have released him. What else would she be able to do?

"And how does one fully recover?" Seto said, his voice flat. "Have you, from him?" He nodded his head towards Bakura.

Ryou closed his eyes and hung his head. There were definitely things he had finally put behind him. His mother's and sister's deaths, for one. The raw wounds, both physical and mental, left by the Spirit in the earlier days have long scarred over.

But they were still there.

He didn't cause his mother's or Amane's deaths, but it occurred while he was young, perhaps too young to properly process it. So he grew up without them, and when he was old enough to really understand what death was, he was already used to them not being there.

But his friends? The Spirit may have been in control of the Shadow Game, but it was still his hands that carried out the deed. He may not have truly understood what was happening the very first time, but each one after? If only he was stronger, more assertive against the Spirit in the beginning. Maybe he would have had more control over his actions, and wouldn't have been so easily pushed to the side. Maybe he wouldn't have blacked out so much.

Guilt over the unknown still tore at him every time he looked at his old campaigns. And even at the one he started sketching out over holiday break. The Spirit had given him some rather interesting ideas for a new board. He was oddly helpful about it.

Did he have another angle?

"…Okay," Ryou conceded. "But I still think, even in part, that you're having an adverse reaction to your abduction."

Seto scowled. So Bakura was essentially another Hermione. Great, that's definitely not the thing he wanted to hear.

"What do they say?"

"It sounds like a more irritated version of me. That there's work to do. Doesn't specify what the work is, I just have to do it."

Ryou wrinkled his nose. "…That's it?"

Bakura snorted. "That's nothing new, Kaiba."

"But I don't have work to do," said Seto, irritated, "Believe it or not, I'm caught up this week. I don't have essays to write, or Kaiba Corp to deal with. These thoughts? This voice? They're not mine. I don't know where it came from, but that's all it wants, without actually directing me to the thing it wants me to do."

He pushed himself off from the desk and headed back towards the door. "I want to think that being awake for so long has finally made me lose my sanity, that getting a decent night's sleep for a change will make it go away. But I can't get one."

"Have you thought of asking Madam Pomfrey for something to help?" Ryou asked.

Seto paused. He certainly considered the other night, but only then and the notion didn't bubble back up afterwards. "No."

Ryou's shoulders slumped and he hopped off his desk to follow after him. "Why not?"

"Because that won't solve the problem."

"But you don't know that."

"I know that the voice wasn't nagging in my ear when I was in the Hospital Wing. But I was under forced bedrest. For the better part of that whole experience I was either on this potion or that potion. I could have slept through a freight train crashing through the castle because I didn't have any other option. Using another potion to sleep tonight doesn't mean that the voices won't come back tomorrow."

"Doesn't mean they will either," said Ryou.

Seto huffed and turned away from him.

"Wait!" Ryou started forward again as Seto's hand hit the door handle. "What are you going to do now?"

He watched as Seto's eyes closed briefly and the door was thrown open. The reply he received was full of bite. "I have work to do."

Ryou's eyebrows raised, and he saw Seto shook his head, tense his jaw, and storm out.

"Interesting," Bakura mused.

Ryou looked to the spirit. "I thought he just said he didn't have any work left to do."

"He did."

Ryou bit his lip. "What do you think is going on?"

Bakura narrowed his eyes at the empty doorway. "I'm not sure…"

Ryou took another step towards the door and Bakura faded away back into the Millennium Ring. /Do you think he's just going mad?/

/From no sleep? Hardly. Kaiba is a workaholic, Landlord. He stays up for a week, crashes for an entire day, and then business as usual the next. Something else is at play here./

Ryou headed back downstairs towards the Great Hall. There was still plenty of time left for him to grab another bit of toast and some juice before meeting up with his Divination study group.

/Should we tell Yugi and the others? About the voice?/

Bakura shook his head. /No./

/The way he spoke though – it almost sounded like us…before everything sort of came together after Battle City./

/I know…which should not be. Set is not here, and he isn't joined to another Millennium Item. And even if he were, there are no souls in the other Items./

Ryou entered the Great Hall. Yugi was talking animatedly to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Judging by the glimpse of conversation, Yugi was regaling them with a story to how Joey was nearly late for his own duel in the Grand Prix Tournament.

He smiled at them as he sat and reached for the nearest bread basked in the center of the table. /So what now?/

/Keep it under wraps. I'll keep an eye on him./

Haven't you always wondered why this is so important? Why Set and the Pharaoh are locked in this eternal struggle? Why you are so drawn to that dragon of yours, and the Pharaoh to his pesky little mage?

He was back in the Domino Museum, standing before The Tablet. The Shadow Magus stood between him and the massive artifact on display. With each step he took closer, Seto took an equal back.

"The only thing I've wondered about it," said Seto, "Is why you are so interested in it. It's an old relic. Sure, Set and the Pharaoh duked it out a few thousand years ago, and someone made a carving about it. But that's the past."

Yet you and the Pharaoh's vessel are rivals.

"Because some people decided to inhabit a few gaudy trinkets."

We both know that is not the case. Destinies have come full circle, and everyone has a role to play. Even you.

"It's clear my role is over," said Seto, sidestepping away from the Shadow Magus. He wasn't about to give him the opportunity to touch him again.

Him moving out of the way was a pointless exercise, for the Shadow Magus blinked behind him, dug his claws into his shoulders and forced him to stand directly in front of the tablet. Now, what do you see?

Shaking the Shadow Magus off was just as futile. For every attempt, the nails dug in deeper.

Finally, he described the blatant images – that of the Dark Magician and Blue Eyes, of Monster Reborn and Swords of Revealing Light. But it wasn't enough for the Shadow Magus, who continued to egg him on, but there wasn't anything else to see other than all of the hieroglyphs around the tablet.

Though, once he mentioned that, the Shadow Magus merely gave a condescending pat to his shoulder and whispered right into his ear. Read it.

He yanked himself out of the Shadow Magus's hold, refusing to look at the tablet. "What are you going to do if I don't, slap me on the wrist? Have the Death Eaters torture me? …If you're going to trap me in my own head and wait for me to give up and spill something, then you'll be waiting a long time."

The Shadow Magus's insistence that he just needed Voldemort to keep him alive wasn't comforting. Neither was the vision he made appear in front of the second stone tablet in the room, of Mokuba sleeping under his coat in the computer room on the blimp while he worked to decipher the text on the Winged Dragon of Ra.

The Shadow Magus's hands started emitting the purple mist as he hovered them directly over Mokuba. Turn around and humor me, or your reunion with your brother will be much sooner than you think.

Seto shuddered, but then, before he could look up at the massive tablet, he was back in the cellar, tied down in the chair. Voldemort sat across from him, and the Shadow Magus had him by the shoulders.

Voldemort waved a hand and Seto's phone floated idly in the air between them. "…To have working electronics at the school means that the wards have been removed…or that they have been bypassed."

Seto glared at him.

"How did you accomplish such a feat?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Seto snarled, "I didn't give that information out to Dumbledore when he asked…and I'm certainly not going to divulge that information to you."

"Is that so?"

He pulled at the bindings again. "You may have replaced one cell for another, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't tell you anything."

Voldemort laughed, his voice high and cold. "On the contrary, you are going to sing, even if we must break you first. I want to know every detail on how you managed the impossible."

The Shadow Magus sunk his claws in further, far enough that Seto was sure his shoulders had to be bleeding, and then the room swirled away into nothingness.

Seto's eyes snapped open to the dark dormitory ceiling as he gasped a loud, shuddering breath. His shoulders ached. Another fleeting phantom pain, of a time he couldn't remember. Were these really memories? Or just random nightmares, his subconscious running wild?

Perhaps both. If he couldn't remember these dreams actually happening, there was no way for him to know how much of it was real or made up.

It certainly didn't make him feel better.

He pushed himself into a sitting position against his headboard and rubbed at his eyes. These memories, or whatever they were, were not as intense as the one from Thursday with Bellatrix Lestrange. He at least hadn't been violently attacked in either of the brief visions this time – that was a plus.

His brow furrowed as he reached for his phone. 12:41am. Monday morning. His eyes were closed for one lowly hour.

Huffing, Seto dropped the phone down onto the blankets, tilted his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

Two new dreams. More disconnected conversation that didn't fit anywhere.

Memories, he reminded himself. After all of the suffering that the Shadow Magus put him through before even leaving Hogwarts for holiday break, he couldn't believe his mind would just create an encounter out of nothing just for the hell of it.

What was the significance of the tablet? What did the hieroglyphs say that the Shadow Magus wanted him to read it? And for that matter, if the Shadow Magus was from the same time as the Pharaoh and Set and Bakura, wouldn't he know how to read it?

Why didn't he just do it himself? The opportunity was there when he attacked Ishizu. Why was he needed? And if he couldn't – how would the Shadow Magus know if he actually read the text properly or just made it up?

He had to know what it said. He had to have been toying with me.

Despite seeing the tablet up close at least twice, he couldn't picture it clearly enough to remember every individual symbol etched around Set and the Pharaoh and all of the Duel Monsters. He would have to stand in front of it again to really get a chance to read it properly. …Whenever that would be.

Or have the memory wake him up again, but he'd rather see the real one than a rampant figment of his imagination.

Eyes still closed, he scrunched up his nose in an attempt to concentrate. More puzzle pieces that he didn't know where to put. If the first vision was to be believed then he really did see the Shadow Magus while he was gone.

And the second – he was back in the same room, the same chair as the quick flash from Dumbledore's office. That couldn't be a coincidence. Both the Magus and Voldemort were in that one.

But Voldemort…didn't ask him anything about the Orichalcos. Just his phone.

Get it to work…, the voice whispered.

Seto blinked his eyes open and looked at his phone. Is that what the voice wanted? Because it didn't make sense – his phone already worked. He had it completely repaired days ago. So that couldn't be it.

Time is of the essence, the voice said again, smooth and calm, and Seto couldn't place it to a person. There is much to do.

What, Seto thought, scowling. What is there to do?

You are the only one who can get it to work.

Seto huffed and picked the phone up off the blanket. He didn't have the time or the energy to play Cryptic Twenty Questions with the nag in his ear.

He turned the phone over in his hands. Why – why would Voldemort be interested in how his phone worked at Hogwarts? It wasn't like he had one. What was it he was missing? So far just about everyone in a position of power had inquired about it.

Dumbledore was both curious and genuinely impressed. Umbridge was certain he broke a dozen magical laws, and Voldemort –

Get it to work, said the voice.

Voldemort wanted to know how he did it. Why?

There are more players with vested interest in you and your friends than just myself and Albus Dumbledore, said Voldemort's voice, echoing through his mind from one of the first days he was trapped in the study. The later revelation of the Orichalcos and everything it seemed to implicate almost proved that he was right.

Seto's grip tightened on the phone. Dumbledore was surely against Voldemort. The Order was against Voldemort. The Ministry? They were somewhere in the middle. Maybe they swung both ways. Maybe they all did.

Maybe all of these players had the same interests, and were fighting over each other to get to it first.

Get it to work.

What was it they wanted? What was it he was missing?

Get it to work.

Seto shoved back the blankets, grabbed his bag and slipped out of the dormitory. If he was going to be up, might as well send off some emails. Within the hour or so, the main office would be alive and running.

The common room was empty by the time he settled in at the table nearest the stairs. Not that he expected anyone to still be wide awake playing games or doing homework at near 1am. The fireplace had long died out, leaving a drafty chill in the air, and he wished he had the mind to put on a robe over his pajamas before coming downstairs.

His hand brushed against parchment as he pulled out the laptop, and he reached in afterwards and took them out. They were barely spared a glance as they were set to the side of the table. He shook his head and opened his emails.

You are wasting your time. Go back and get your wand.

Seto looked up. Well that was certainly different. So the voice had other things to say after all.

"I don't need it for Kaiba Corp," Seto muttered.

You need it.

"I don't," Seto said irritably, "Now get lost."

The voice was much more insistent. There is work to do.

"Yeah, mine."

Return to the Library.

Seto paused, his fingers hovering over the keys. Oh, so was the voice now going to have a proper conversation with him? Was it finally going to tell him what the hell it was that it wanted?

"I don't need anything from there."

You cannot afford distraction. There is much to be done.

"You are a distraction," Seto growled. And it wasn't like he could just get up and go back there in the middle of the night, anyhow.

He propped his elbow up on the table and massaged his forehead. Even at Set's worst, he was never this bad.

Get it to work.

Seto sighed noisily and opened up his work calendar, counting ahead the days until he would be arranging to travel back to Domino, and froze, his index finger hovering just over the mouse clicker. The month of January, nearly devoid of any commitments, stared blankly back at him, the current date a highlighted green amongst a screen of blank white boxes.

Another puzzle piece, one he didn't initially think of, clicked into place.

The last entry on the page was the day at Kaiba Land. Mokuba had added it in, so he couldn't schedule any late meetings or sit in the office all night working. Dinner with the group at the park, and judge the night show for last minute changes before the official grand opening.

It was a Friday, and the following date was the flight back to Britain to catch the train for the return trip to Hogwarts. Instead, he spend the night in Voldemort's company. But…if he only spent the four days there that he so vividly recalled, and then the time spent in the Hospital Wing…there was no way that today could be the right day of the week.

There was no getting around how many days he spent recuperating, plenty of people could corroborate dates. But knowing the date he was released, and the date he was abducted, the two blocks of time didn't meet nicely in the middle.

There were, at the very least, two complete days unaccounted for.

The voice pressed itself back to the forefront of his mind, sounding pushier than ever. Get it to work.

Seto ignored it, his gaze firmly rooted on the calendar. He couldn't afford to let it – whoever it was – distract him. Not now.

It made sense for some of the visions of Voldemort with his phone or the Shadow Magus taunting him over the stone tablet to fall during that missing time.

But the dream of Bellatrix Lestrange breaking his ankle, if it truly was a real memory, only cemented two notions: that he didn't escape how he remembered it, and that it wasn't on that fourth day. The only other explanation between when he thought he got out and when he was put in the Hospital Wing would be that he spent much longer out in the snow after hitting the school wards.

And in the state he was in when he arrived back? There was no way he would have survived.

Why do you idle on such insignificant matters?

Seto pushed the voice to the side again. The laptop lid was shut. He closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose.

Why? Why did Voldemort care about his phone? What was it the Shadow Magus wanted off of the tablet? What else was it these visions were trying to show him?

…What was the truth?

.

.

.

"Shh," Bellatrix's voice hissed right into his left ear. He felt his entire body shudder as he took in a gasping breath, eyes squeezed shut against the agony radiating from his leg, the relief of her wand lifting off short lived as she climbed onto the table and straddled him.

The pressure he felt on his chest when he first woke here was long gone, but it didn't matter now. With his wrists still chained down and what felt like every bone beneath his knee broken, there was no getting up.

He lost track of just when it happened, but at some point his right ankle ended up chained down to the table as well, leaving his only movable limb the one she was taking such joy in splintering apart. He didn't remember trying to lash out at her after the very first attempt, so either she did it for the hell of it, or he had a kneejerk reaction to her crushing his foot and she merely made good on her threat to further pin him in place.

The Cruciatus Curse had long stopped, but it didn't make the lasting effects of the previous castings any less real. There may not have been any knives really stabbing all over his body, but the pain still lingered. Everywhere.

Her now sitting on him didn't help either.

"There now," Bellatrix said in a deceptively soothing voice. She set her wand down next to him, reached up, and lightly brushed sweaty bangs away from his eyes. "I think that's enough for now, don't you think?"

He kept his eyes screwed shut, as if the pain would magically disappear if he couldn't see it, and jerked his head to the side, away from her.

Bellatrix clicked her tongue. "Now don't be like that," she tutted. Her hand found his jaw and forced his head to face forward again. "I stopped," she said, her voice soft once more. "Look at me."

To her initial dismay, his eyes didn't open, and she watched his chest rise and fall a bit slower, his breathing attempting to level itself back out. The lines around his eyes eased, but he didn't open them.

She squeezed his jaw tighter and gave his head a light shake. "Ah, ah. Don't try to sleep on me. We're not done yet."

No response.

Another shake, this one much firmer. "Look at me!"

Blue eyes finally opened to glare at her as he attempted to dislodge her hand from his face. "Get. Off."

Her eyes lit up at his growl. Even now, after hours and hours since she first set her wand on him, and he was still full of fire.

"Mm, not just yet," she said, leaned forward, and pressed her hands into the table on either side of his shoulders, effectively hovering her face right over him. "Let's try this again, hm? How did you get your little toy to work?"

Blue eyes continued to pierce right through her, but again (to no surprise) he stayed silent.

"Don't make this any harder," she said, and dragged a nail down his cheek for him to jerk his head to the side again. "I don't want to have to mar your face as well. It is rather beautiful just the way it is."

"Then let go of it."

"Tell me what the Dark Lord wishes," said Bellatrix, and raised her wand into his direct line of sight. "I'd hate to have to continue our little game."

"I'm sure," Seto said with as much dryness as he could possibly muster, and tested the bindings on his wrists again. Still no give. "You're clearly not enjoying yourself at all."

Bellatrix pouted and set the wand down again, then moved her hand back to cradle the side of his head. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I could make it more enjoyable for you, too. If you would only tell me what the Dark Lord needs. I need not only be destructive. I can have you good as new in no time."

She loomed over him. "Tell me how you made your box to work, and I promise all of the pain will stop. We needn't continue like this."

Seto gritted his teeth. "We both know that is an empty promise." He was never so thankful that she was blocking the view to his legs because he didn't even want to see what his mangled one looked like.

"Tell me what the Dark Lord wishes." The soothing softness was gone from her voice, and her wand was once again pressed up against his temple. "It will be easier for you to do so willingly."

He merely scowled up at her.

"It will be much more painful if I have to drag it out of you myself."

Seto couldn't help but smirk. An empty threat, considering he somehow worked past the Cruciatus Curse, and even the Imperius Curse didn't seem to take hold when the other Death Eaters tried casting it, though he didn't quite get why that failed to work on him. Regardless, it was a small victory and he was going to milk it as long as possible. "If you could, you already would have."

She pressed herself lower, close enough that their noses were almost touching. "You are a stubborn one," she said, and her cruel smile returned once more, "But you cannot hold – ah!"

Bellatrix gasped and drew back as his head collided with hers. Where he got the energy to headbutt her, she wasn't sure, but it had to have been short-lived. He fell back against the table, shoulders trembling from both the exertion and the extra strain on his stretched arms.

She angrily grabbed a fistful of his hair, tilted his head back and pressed her wand under his chin. "How did you get your box to work? How did you surpass the enchantments on Hogwarts? Tell me, or I will continue!"

A single, dry, pained laugh escaped his throat. "You're going to have to do better than that."

She let go of him, letting his head drop back against the table with a light thud. He visibly winced, screwed his eyes shut a moment and turned away from her.

"Will I," she said, and then twisted around and swung her legs out, sliding off the right side of the table. Wand outstretched, she moved down the length of the table, dragging her wand across his leg as she went.

Bellatrix's grin widened as his leg twitched, and he tried to draw his knee up and away from her, only to catch on the manacle around his ankle. "Ha ha," she jeered, "I wonder, should I start here?"

She pressed her wand into the top of his shoe, over his toes. "Work our way up from the bottom?"

When he didn't answer her, she shrugged at his glowering. "No, you don't like that." A quick circle around and she stood on his other side. "How's this faring, hm?"

A sharp nail pressed right into his calf, and she watched him bite back a moan, squeezing his eyes shut again as a violent tremor ran through his body.

Before he knew it, she was back by his head, whispering in his ear and stroking his hair. "Shh, I know it hurts," she said in her sickeningly soothing voice, "But it just takes one simple sentence. 'I give up'. 'I'll do it.' And then it'll all be over. There is no need to suffer anymore."

She turned his head back to face her again. "One last time," she said, her lips forming a mocking pout. "What do you say?"

There was barely time to react. Her thumb was resting high enough on his face that the instant his eyes opened at her, he lashed out to bite it. She recoiled back, and pushed her wand against his throat, eyebrow raised. "What did I tell you about trying to fight back?"

"I told you to get off of me."

The harshness in his voice was laughable considering his current position and she moved down the table once more. "You are in no place to bark orders. The Dark Lord requires answers and I will pull them from you however I see fit. Having fun is just a bonus. And if this is how I choose to do so…."

Bellatrix pressed down on his knee with her hand, pushing it further against the table, setting off all of the damaged nerves and pain points as his whole leg jolted, and Seto swallowed down his groan behind clenched teeth and sharp inhale. She held him firmly in place and placed the tip of her wand in the space between her thumb and index finger, eyes glittering darkly.

"…then so be it."

Seto jolted upright so fast in his chair that his toe slammed into the corner of the common room table. His heart was hammering in his chest once more as he tried to get his bearings. He wasn't on the table. This was the common room, not Bellatrix Lestrange's bland torture chamber. It wasn't dark and cool, but both bright and warm thanks to the lamps and the fire, which seemed to have been brought back to life since he nodded off.

For how loud his raw scream echoed through his head, he might as well have really just let it out, and like the night last week when he also had a dream about Bellatrix Lestrange, he peered under the table at a whole, unbroken leg. There was no wand pushing into it, tearing at muscle and shattering bone. He was alone in the peaceful early hours of Monday morning.

Peaceful for everyone else maybe.

The hour chimed on the clock on the wall, drawing his eyes up to it. 4:00. Had he really dozed off for that long?

Sighing, he reopened the laptop. Bellatrix wanted to know how he got the phone to work, and was willing to rip him apart to get him to talk. But why?

Back on this task, are we? The voice returned dully as Seto opened a draft email and continue work on it. If you will not sleep, there are other things to do.

"There are a lot of things I have to do," said Seto, "You won't be interested in any of them."

You need to get it to work.

That again. Wonderful. He really didn't know where this voice came from, but it was time it returned to the void. "My phone already works," Seto said flatly, "You're late to the party."

That doesn't matter.

"Then what?" Seto shot to his feet, splaying his palms flat across the tabletop. "What is it you keep asking me to do? What. Do. You. Want?!"

What I want, said the voice – Voldemort's voice, loud and clear through his mind, as if the wizard was standing right in front of him, is Hogwarts. And you are going to get me inside.

Seto froze. That was the first he had heard Voldemort in his head that wasn't part of a vision playing out before his eyes.

He stared blankly at his laptop, charmed in the same manner as his phone currently still upstairs on his bed. On his orders, no doubt, Bellatrix tortured him for knowledge on how the technology worked. Voldemort wanted into Hogwarts. Didn't take a genius to know why.

Voldemort's voice echoed in his head again. '…And you are going to get me inside'.

Seto furrowed his brow. A lot of the puzzle was coming together all at once. This night alone filled in many of the gaps he had been trying to uncover, and not in the way he would have liked.

Was his mind tampered with in order to forget Voldemort's orders? And by extension, how he got out and back to Hogwarts? Well, the how was still an unknown, but in any case – if he wasn't supposed to know what was happening, why were his memories popping up, and at such a rate? Didn't that defeat the purpose?

He sank back down in the chair and stared off into nothing. Did Voldemort expect him to work for him? How would he even know what he was up to, being so far away from Hogwarts? It wasn't like he was hovering over his shoulder, whispering threats in his –

Seto immediately straightened up, the little color he had draining from his face; a dark realization hitting him harder than any blow given to him on Bellatrix's table.

The voice.

It didn't show up until after he was released from the hospital, and not until after he had at least returned to class. After he was in an able state. There would have been no point in pushing him if he was still stuck under Madam Pomfrey's wing. It waited for him to function in class again, to be back at some semblance of his normal routine.

It waited for him to get the phone back, up and running again.

A sick feeling wormed into the pit of his stomach. Voldemort could care less to how he got his phone to work on the grounds. It was a means to an end. His two biggest enemies were here in the castle, and he just wanted to get to them.

You know now, said the voice – Voldemort's voice. Now get it done.

He couldn't believe he was doing this again. Whatever he went through in that house couldn't break him. Clearly he didn't do whatever they wanted him to. Did Voldemort really think that inserting himself into his ear would make any difference?

No one was looming over him, wand aimed right between his eyes, but they might as well be.

"I already told you no," said Seto to the empty common room, "We did this song and dance already."

Did we? Voldemort's voice chuckled, and despite the warmth of the fire, Seto shuddered at the chill that worked down his spine. I expect results this time.

Seto balled his hands into fists. "I'm not your lackey. I don't jump on yours or anyone else's command."

Another dark laugh. You already have.

Seto narrowed his eyes. What the heck was it talking about? How was he already following orders? He hadn't done anything outside the ordinary. Since returning to Hogwarts, all he's done is go to class and return to Kaiba Corp work. Nothing unusual about that.

The parchment on the corner of the table caught his eye and he reached for it, quickly glossing over the pages. He remembered some of this from before, when he set up camp in the bookstacks in the beginning of the year, trying to get his technology to work. These were nothing new.

He shuffled to the last page and made to toss it back on the desk, frustrated, when he caught the large smear of navy ink. These weren't his early-term notes that he had stuck in his bag for safe keeping and then forgot.

These were from Saturday's trip to the Library. The trip he didn't even remember, until he was woken up at curfew.

Seto furrowed his brow as he looked over the parchment again. There was no reason for him to be writing this down all over again. Even if he did decide to work in the Library as a break from his norm, there was no way he would have willingly wasted his time back in the familiar corner of the bookstacks, writing the same notes.

Unless…he didn't do it willingly.

…Suddenly, his conversation with Bakura, and his earlier blackout seemed to shine a twisted new light. Set was ripped out and replaced with someone even pushier, and far more dangerous.

He glanced across the room to the fire, and then down at the notes still clenched in his hand.

I wouldn't, Voldemort warned.

"Get. Out," Seto hissed. "I will not let some freeloader tell me what to do."

Was this some sick joke? What could possibly be the odds – after berating Set months ago for trying to get him to use the Millennium Rod's built-in Imperius Curse on Hermione, as practice, and venting about taking control of others – that his own free will could be wrested from him?

His fist closed tighter around the notes and he drew his arm back, ready to pitch them into the fireplace. Voldemort may be pushing him to get the Death Eaters in, but that didn't mean he was going to make it easy for them.

The instant, however, that he tried to let go of the papers, he found he couldn't, and they remained firmly stuck between his fingers. He shook his hand, trying to dislodge them, but they wouldn't fall out of his grip.

Burning your research will not stop me. You will merely start anew.

Seto continued to struggle against his own fist. "That would be a waste of my time."

It is no different than how you are currently spending it.

Seto huffed and turned away, back towards the table, and thankfully now was able to toss the papers back onto it. He already had one blackout. The likelihood of more was high, especially if he didn't satisfy the voice in his head. Would he start skipping class too for the sake of carrying out Voldemort's whims?

It seemed the voice was able to hear his thought and answered him, even though he didn't say anything aloud. You will keep up your routine. Go to class. Eat your meals in the Great Hall with Potter and the others. Continue your coursework. To go without would cause too much suspicion. Your other waking moments will be spent doing my work.

Seto glared down at his laptop without truly looking at it. "You're not truly here. What's stopping me from waking up Yugi and the others right now and telling them everything?"

You won't.

His hands shook as he fisted them against the table. Voldemort, or at least his voice, only had so much control over him. If he was doomed to just sit in class or magical law, he would have put up a stink about checking in at Kaiba Corp days ago. And he didn't. Which meant he probably couldn't stop him either if he tried to warn someone, or do anything outside of Voldemort's wishes. At best, a bluff.

The voice spoke again, as if Voldemort was really standing next to him in the common room, whispering in his ear, sending such a chill coursing through him that he almost thought he was in the Shadow Realm.

I have allowed you to keep up appearances. Do not take that as freedom, for you are mine to do as I please. …And if I were you, I would not even dream of raising alarm, or fighting back...

Before Seto even knew what was happening, his entire body went rigid, freezing completely in the chair, and all of his attempts to move were futile. Until, completely on its own, his right hand moved upwards and reached under the collar of his pajamas, and withdrew the card locket from where it sat resting against his chest. He tried to let go and drop his arm back down, but it refused to obey him, and he could only watch as his thumb clicked the locket open to see Mokuba's tiny face smiling up at him.

His blood ran cold; the same feeling of dread bubbling up that he had when he first woke up in the dusty study was back, and he forced himself to swallow the bile churning through his stomach down as Voldemort's words echoed through his mind.

…I would hate to have to resort to more drastic measures to keep you in line.