Take This Oath, Killswitch Engage

Abandon the safety of mindless following
Abandon what holds us captive to suffering
Pierce the blinders, behold
The path that leads before you
Let us forsake, forsake all the things
That leads us, leads to our demise

Open your eyes
See the divine
Open your eyes
And see the

Destruction of innocence
Watch it breathe it's last

Open your eyes (behold the path before you)
See the divine (forsake our demise)
Open your eyes (behold the path before you)
And see the

Abandon the safety of mindless following

To the grave we take this oath
To leave this world behind
Hear the words of the voice
That lives insid
e


Tom helped Cassiopeia to her feet, and she vanished the blood from both of their faces. She then healed his tongue and stopped his collarbone from bleeding, though she said he should definitely get a second opinion. His whole body was aching from the exertion and the fight, several cuts and bruises announcing themselves one by one as he sat on the grass for the rest of the lesson, watching the others duel in sets of twos while Ginny sat beside him.

"I'm sorry. I… Wasn't thinking. I was talking to McGonagall, and I was angry. It's not an excuse, I know."

"Why were you mad at McGonagall? Why did he take you there?"

"That's really complicated."

"Yeah. Yeah, I bet it is."

"Ginny," he said, "I am sorry."

She was silent, he watched her jaw working. He looked at the others, busy trying to pulverise each other. His mouth tasted like blood.

"I remember McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Hagrid dropping me off at Privet Drive," he said, sighing. "Or Tom does, anyway. She warned Dumbledore that the Dursleys were the worst sort of people, but no one took me off the step." He didn't know if he should tell her Tom's part.

"I was raised in an orphanage. I was not treated well there. On several occasions, I asked to be allowed to remain at Hogwarts instead of returning. Dumbledore, in particular, made sure it was not possible. Among… Other things," Tom said, his voice low and even.

"So, I asked her what the difference was, why they treated me differently than him. I know the answer. The Prophecy. But…" He tried to pinpoint what exactly about it made him so angry, "We came here pretty much the same. And they were- they were awful to him. Straight away. He was a kid. They didn't help. They could have, but they made it worse. They only helped me because there was something to gain. Because they thought I'd kill him. Die trying, at least." He stopped before he gave something away with the emotion in his tone.

"Then I thought about Charlie, and I- he was right behind me," he knew that there had to be a reason for that, that the Dark Lord had several other prisoners that hadn't been in the room with them.

He watched Draco body slam Zabini even though they hadn't been assigned to duel each other. Cassiopeia pretended not to see it.

He could still feel Voldemort in the tree line, occasionally moving. Harry figured he was watching the fights.

"I get it-" He began, and she snorted without humour.

"You get it if it's too much," she finished for him, shaking her head. He followed her eyes to Eris, attempting to burn Daphne Greengrass—ducked under a shield and screaming for a break—with an impressive fire wall.

"What happened at the Ministry wasn't your fault." She finally looked at him. "Say it. Say it wasn't your fault and mean it."

"Ginny, what? How is that what you're stuck on? I don't understand."

"I want to see Charlie; I want to know what you mean when you say you don't know if he's going to be alright. And I want you to say it wasn't your fault."

"I don't even know what I mean when I say that. I'm going to try, but Voldemort tried to kill us both two weeks ago. Remember that? I don't really get to ask for anything."

"It—wasn't—your—fault."

"Ginny." He pursed his lips and tore his eyes from the trees, the Dark Lord trailing closer to where they sat. He debated getting up and moving, but Tom dismissed the idea.

"Harry," she said, exasperated.

He was sure Voldemort was within earshot by then, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

"How wasn't it. Tell me how it wasn't." He tried not to whisper.

"You were doing what you thought you had to. You didn't force us to go with you. You tried to go alone, remember?"

He scoffed, "The dumbest thing I've ever done in my life? And I didn't go alone, did I? Please give this up. It was my fault, and I can't undo it. What I did to Charlie wasn't fair, and no one should have followed me into the fucking Ministry. I was an idiot. Apparently still am."

Cassiopeia was also within hearing distance, and though she was pretending to be interested in the duelling, Harry knew better. He suddenly felt ridiculously exposed and stopped talking.

Tom took it as a queue to start. "I agree with you. Harry was manipulated from birth to be hell-bent on killing the Dark Lord. A task no one before him succeeded in completing. Given a singular focus. He was led to believe that the Prophecy and his Godfather were at risk. He was an idiot, yes, but it was not his fault."

"Shut up," Harry muttered.

"I encouraged him to torture your brother," Tom said. "I will not tolerate any harm coming to him, do you understand? Charlie attempted harm."

Ginny exhaled heavily, pulling up clumps of grass. "Is that because…" She wrinkled up her nose, "Because you share a body? Or…?"

'Great?' Harry was flooded with adrenaline, 'Lie? Say yes, obviously, you're defensive because we share a body.'

Instead, Tom didn't say anything, and her frown deepened.

"It's because we share a body, yeah," Harry said.

'Terrible,' Tom thought, rolling his eyes.

She didn't look particularly convinced but didn't question it further. "I'm not going to give it up," she said after a pause, "It wasn't your fault. I don't really know… How I feel about Charlie."

"I'll try," he said again.

Cassiopeia waited for the conversation to lull before she approached them. As she did, the Dark Lord moved away until he was out of Harry's range. He wondered if Cassiopeia knew he was there. She didn't look at the trees, and he decided that she mustn't have.

She handed him an envelope, sealed with green wax, as she reached him.

"What's this?"

"Your official invitation to extracurriculars."

He opened it, and Ginny read it over his shoulder.

In true Voldemort fashion, it was simply a place and time.

"What's it for?" Ginny asked.

"Uh…" He looked at Cassiopeia, who glanced around and shrugged.

"This is not public knowledge, but I don't care," she said.

"In December, Hogwarts will host ten schools from around the world. For a duelling competition. I'm supposed to win it. Voldemort is teaching a class in preparation." Saying it felt insane.

"He's what?"

"Yeah. I'd imagine it's 'How to kill your opponent: 101'."

"Don't be silly; no killing is the only rule." Cassiopeia tsked. "On that note though, the 'being commanded to win' note, you should go and see Lydia. Get your tongue and… The rest fixed properly, discuss the tournament."

"Yeah. Fine. Can I talk to you first?" He asked the vampire.

"Can I come? To the extra classes?" Ginny asked, and Harry whipped to look at her.

"What?"

"Can I go with?" She pointed at the envelope and then looked at Cassiopeia, who shrugged.

"I don't know. Lydia will be there to heal on site, and so will her apprentice, so it's not strictly invite-only. You'd have to ask him."

"I don't know if that's a good idea?" Harry said.

"You'll ask," Ginny narrowed her eyes as he stood up from the grass, every inch of him protesting at the effort.

"Fine. I'll ask. No promises. I'm sorry, okay?"

She huffed and returned her still-narrowed eyes to Eris.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He asked Cassiopeia when they were out of everyone's earshot and he'd collected his robes.

"What? Is he stalking you now?" she asked at the same time, then said, "No, you first."

"No- you first?" Harry said.

"Lurking in the forest all lesson like he doesn't have better things to do, watching you kick my ass."

"You knew he was there?"

She tapped her ear, "Of course I won't tell him, or you, exactly how far I hear. Why would I do that?" She laughed, "Anyway, you wanted a favour?"

"I need someone to witness to a vow," Harry said.

"Oh? With whom?"

"Draco. Tonight, I was hoping."

"Why?" She looked over at the Slytherin, sitting on the grass with Pansy after winning his duel.

"He knows things, and I thought he already was sworn to a vow."

"Have you spoken to Tom?"

"You mean Voldemort? About the Vow?" Harry asked, "No?"

"Alright, you've convinced me. See Lydia first, I'll bring Malfoy to your room afterwards." She turned abruptly to yell at her students, "Zabini! Sallow! Greengrass! Jager! Delacroix! Magnus! Malfoy! Dunbar! Stay behind! The rest of you get off my lawn."

Harry didn't stick around to find out why, though Tom assumed it was to receive the same invitation. His legs didn't want to carry him through the halls and were particularly averse to the stairs.

By the time he reached the hospital wing, he wanted nothing more than his bed; he could nearly feel his pillows as he dragged himself through the doors, leaving his guard outside them.

"Cassiopeia said I should talk to you about winning the world competition and fixing my tongue and my collarbone," he sat down on a bed without directly meaning to, and then he was horizontal. The pillows were acceptable.

"Oh, it's Harry Potter," Lydia said. Do you know how often you come through here? You've got to be at least thirty percent of all injuries—forty-five if you count injuries given."

"That can't be right; you made that up."

"Of course, I made it up. Sit up; don't go to sleep. Here," she sat a tray at the end of his bed and cast privacy wards as he begrudgingly did as he was told.

She checked his shoulder and raised her eyebrow. "Vampire bites, huh? Why on Earth would you want to fight her?"

Harry shrugged and then winced. "For fun. There's the whole I have to win, thing, now. Which I'm assuming you know something about?"

She gestured to the potions on the tray and began properly healing his wounds with her wand, "Since there really are no rules, you can bet every school worth their immoral grain will be doing the same. Muscle repair potions—So you can spend a lot more time moving and far less time recovering—Adrenaline boosters to increase your reaction time. We discussed it, and we decided it would be best for everyone's safety if you didn't dabble in Devil's Vapor. Energy supplements and Pepper-Ups instead."

"Devil's Vapor?"

"Crazy stuff. Something you'll have to worry about in your opponents, I'm afraid. Amps up your magical output for a price."

"What's the price?" He asked anyway.

"Exhaustion, hallucinations, spontaneous magical eruption, uncontrollable rage, seizures, cardiac arrest, uncontrollable bleeding, a general feeling of unease, to name a few."

"Oh. Probably best if I don't spontaneously… That."

"So, you'll want to be taking about three muscle repairs a day. One or two at night if you use the energy supplements and Pepper-Ups for extra training time. I insist you get a minimum of five hours a night, so I've included Dreamless Sleep to knock you out if you go overboard and can't sleep. If you don't rest, you'll stop thinking properly, then all the work is useless, okay? Are you following me?"

"…Can you write this down?"

"Take the adrenaline boosters before training or a fight. Only then, or you'll be tweaking out." She yanked his jaw open to look at his tongue, "Also, I'll get you some blood replenishing potions since you insist on fighting with Cass."

"What?" Tom said, snapping his teeth shut.

"What?"

"What did you just say?"

"Some blood replenishing poti-"

"Cass?"

"Oh. I asked her. She said it was fine to call her Cass?"

Tom laughed in shock, blinking hard. He looked at Lydia properly, examining her face and debating Legilimency.

'You probably shouldn't,' Harry thought, surprised when he didn't.

She frowned at him, then opened his mouth again, pointing her wand at his tongue and casting wordlessly, "Is that bad?" She asked, though he couldn't answer. He shrugged his shoulders in response.


Cassiopeia and Draco waited for him outside the Room of Requirement. It was nearly eleven-thirty when he left the hospital wing, carrying a small chest of potions behind him with the curse, serving the dual purpose of keeping him alert as he walked.

His guard waited outside his room, too. A wave of stress seemed to lift off them at the sight of him, and he decided that being his entourage was probably one of the most high-strung jobs the Dark Lord could give. He knew their names, but none of them had been familiar, just new words on the Marauder's map.

He let the vampire and the Slytherin into his room, letting Tom take the lead on the vow. He set the chest down on his bedside table and turned to the blonde.

"I'm really damn tired, Draco. We're doing this, but you're not hanging around to talk about it afterwards. Tomorrow. Or whenever the hell I get a second," he looked at Cassiopeia, and for an instant, she looked sympathetic.

"You understand that you cannot let go once you take my hand and the Vow has begun?" Tom asked, clasping their forearms together as Cassiopeia drew her wand.

Malfoy nodded, eyes wide.

'Speak when I direct you,' Tom thought. Harry didn't get enough time to question, his mouth already talking.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to maintain the utmost secrecy in relation to anything that I, Tom Marvolo Riddle, discuss—or have discussed—with you?"

"The- I-What," Malfoy spluttered, astonished.

Tom shook his head, warning with his eyes.

"I- so swear it," his face had gone red, eyes darting from Cassiopeia to Harry and to their clasped hands—the thin gold thread binding them.

'State the same,' Tom directed.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to maintain the utmost secrecy in relation to anything that I, Harry James Potter, discuss—or have discussed—with you?"

"I so swear it."

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear you will do anything in your power to maintain this secrecy unless otherwise directed by us?"

"I so swear it."

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, swear to maintain the utmost secrecy of any sensitive information you discover in relation to Harry or myself?"

"…I so swear it," he said breathlessly, seemingly lost between laughter, fear, and shock, his hand shaking in Harry's grip.

Tom nodded at the vampire, and she completed the Vow, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Well, welcome to the very exclusive club, Malfoy." She said.

"What is happening?" He asked.

"Fantastic, thanks, Tom; I did say I was tired," Harry snapped.

"Necessary. If he found out later that we are two separate entities, the Vow is weakened."

"Blah blah weak vow blah can everyone please get out of my room now?"

Neither of them moved, Draco staring with his mouth open.

"The Dark Lord is in your head? In your body? Is that what… I don't understand." The blonde looked at Cassiopeia for help, but she said nothing. She grinned like the Cheshire cat, fangs flashing in the candlelight.

"No. He's not in my head. It's not that. I really am fucking exhausted." Lydia had given him painkilling potions, and he'd taken muscle repair while he was there, but his body was still aching. And though he was exhausted, running on very little sleep, he was also something else entirely.

His mind had wandered to Beauxbatons several times throughout the day and into the night; his fight with Cassiopeia and the resulting pain only served to make it worse. The fact that there was a very real possibility the Dark Lord had the same idea also made several rounds in his thoughts, making the reality far heavier, a solid weight in his stomach that kept making him involuntarily hard.

Tom bit his tongue as a wave of want rushed him, almost tangible enough to knock him over. "Can you get out now?"

Cassiopeia wiggled her eyebrows and dragged a stunned Malfoy out through the doors. "Goodnight, boys." She laughed.


He'd slept like the dead after Tom finished him embarrassingly quickly. He'd begun to wonder if how fast he came would be an issue.

'No. You are also a distance ahead of yourself.'

Harry didn't know what that meant, but he was too uncomfortable to ask directly. He showered, letting Tom run his morning routine, zoning out in the mirror.

'What if he touches me and I just… Cum?' He wondered, unable to stop it.

'…Harry.'

'What? I'm genuinely asking. It's a real concern.'

'A spectacular display of self-awareness.'

"Fuck off."

'It is not an issue.'

'It's embarrassing, is what it is.'

'Ask Cassiopeia how long I considered Alicent to be a stranger, and you will understand what I mean when I say you are a distance ahead of yourself.'

'…How long did you consider him a stranger?' Harry frowned at his reflection while Tom brushed his teeth.

'I swear I did not even notice he existed for eight months. She swears it was longer. She claims it was three years until I said his name out loud. I am certain on some level it is reciprocated. Whether or not he has consciously noticed, or plans to act on it… He would also prefer you dead. That remains true. If he attempts anything now, it would be a bid for control, not borne of lust. Do you understand?'

Harry went red, 'I mean, it would have to be… 'Borne of lust' at least a bit, right? Or you know… Wouldn't happen at all, would it?'

'Missing the damn point as usual.'

'What point?'

Tom was silent, blankly staring into the mirror, one eye twitching.