The Kid That I Used to Know, Arrested Youth
Life is a voyage, some people try to avoid it
I seek to try and destroy it, I swear I feel like a toilet bowl
Shitting on everything I've ever said or I've done
You told me this should be fun, thanks for the talk, are we done?
This is my masterpiece, a tragedy, I wrote it myself
It's full of irony and blasphemy, it's practically hell
But the perfect part about it is it's all that I've got
I'm over wasting time in life trying to be something I'm not
'Cause fuck that shit
Yeah, I don't wanna be that kid
No, I'm not gonna hang my head
And be another accident
So long to the kid that I used to know
So long to the place that I used to go
I'm not an R.I.P. I'm not another sick, sad tragedy
Do you ever feel like you're underwater?
Drowning inside like there's no tomorrow?
Life gets tough but you should know
That I don't plan on letting go
Ginny and Draco were waiting for him when he opened the door. The youngest Weasley was still scowling and didn't notice the way the Slytherin was staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes.
"…Morning," Harry said, not particularly in the mood for either of them.
"Did you ask?" Ginny didn't say good morning.
"I haven't seen him. I went to Lydia, and I went to bed. Well, that's not true, but as usual, I can't ever say anything out loud." He nearly shouted the last part, making the Death Eaters flinch.
"Did you get an invite for the extra class? Do you know anything about it?" Draco asked, pulling the wax-sealed envelope from the inside of his robes.
"You don't know? You-Know-Who is teaching a class," Ginny said. Harry shot her a look that she gave back before she barged into the empty History of Magic classroom and yanked Harry inside by the sleeve of his robe.
Draco followed, and Ginny slammed the door, casting privacy wards. "Better?" She snapped.
"He's teaching a class, is what she just said?" He pointed at the redhead, and she narrowed her eyes.
"Yeah. In preparation for a duelling competition in December," Harry said.
"What did you mean when you said it wasn't true that you went to bed?" Ginny asked.
"Tom made Draco swear a vow."
Her eyebrows shot up, and she looked Malfoy up and down, "He knows? Since when?"
"Last night. He doesn't really… Know. I mean, a little."
Draco raised a hand, "Uh, can I- what is happening? Someone tell me what is going on."
"Do you know what a Horcrux is?" Harry asked.
"A what?"
He sighed deeply, sitting at one of the desks and closing his eyes. "It's a piece of soul. When the Dark Lord tried to kill me—when I was a baby, I mean, not last fortnight, or… Any of the other times—a piece of his soul broke free and got stuck in my head when he failed. Tom."
Draco was silent for a long time, reaching blindly for a chair and sliding into it. "So, it's not him?"
"Not really. He has his memories; they're the same. Just… Separate."
Draco looked horrified, repeatedly sitting back in his seat, though he was already as far back as he could go.
Ginny had remained standing, her arms crossed over her chest, looking unimpressed.
"How long have you known?" Draco asked her.
She seemed blindsided by the question, "Uh, since September."
He went quiet again, frowning at Harry. "He tried to kill you again?"
"Yeah. At Skulmadras. After the first Morsmorde."
"Merlin. So, it talks through you?"
Tom stood up sharply, "Call me 'it' again, Malfoy."
He seemed to have some resilience to his ire and didn't flinch, "You walk like him, talk like him… Except for when you don't."
"When I exploded in the Great Hall, we fucked up. Busted our magical cores. Nagini fixed it, but Tom and I had equal control when I woke up." Harry sat back down while Tom gripped the desk, eyes narrowed.
"That is insane."
Every now and then, Harry lost scope of the enormity. Moments—particularly when he was tucked away with only Tom—where it was all normal. Comfortable. Who Tom was became a minor detail, a blip on the radar in comparison to what they had become. Other times, he was painfully aware of exactly how perverted and wildly inappropriate it was to not only enjoy Tom's company but want him intensely.
In that moment it didn't feel normal, what he was, what they were, once again under scrutiny and deemed to be insanity.
"Yeah," he said. "It is."
He'd had Transfiguration with Hufflepuff first, Reed and Ruby once again sitting beside him.
In addition to being rendered Squibs, it seemed Hermione, Seamus, and Lavender weren't attending classes. A blessing, in his opinion. When he'd said she should watch it all fall with him, he'd meant more in that moment. Tom disagreed and thought it was fucking delightful to see them moping around the castle, glaring daggers, kept at a distance after the last altercation.
'Surely he's thought about it; how could he not be conscious of it?' Harry wondered. He spent Charms class with Ravenclaw disassociating in the back corner, Pollux interrupting his silence with occasional loudly whispered facts until Ruby chastised him.
"Knock it off," she'd tugged his sleeve, and Pollux narrowed his eyes, yanking himself free.
"He is fine," Tom said, turning on her.
"You just… Seemed annoyed?" She said, shrinking. "He annoys most people."
"He does not annoy me."
'Continue cluelessly fawning in front of him, and it will not be subconscious for very long, in any case,' Tom thought, finally answering Harry's question.
'…Wait, you like it when I'm stupid?'
'Sometimes I hate this plan of yours.'
'Is that what you meant?' Harry insisted.
'Never mind what I meant; just do as I say.'
Harry sucked his cheeks to fight the smirk and watched Rosier hassle a Ravenclaw about his wand-holding technique—apparently limp.
Ruby and Pollux walked with him to the Great Hall at lunchtime, and they were joined by Reed, Ginny, Eris, Avalon, and Draco at the Slytherin table. He avoided looking at Eris, still fuming at him for his underhanded tactics and lack of remorse.
"Anyone know who else got an invite?" Draco asked.
"I got one," Reed said. "And some kid called Zacharias?"
"So did I," Pollux said. He was holding a single piece of bread between two fingers, not eating or acknowledging it.
Avalon frowned and nudged Ginny in the ribs.
"How many students is that?" Draco asked.
"Twelve," Tom said. "Six will compete."
"Compete in what?" Ruby asked, mouth full.
"I don't know," Harry said. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow night."
He didn't spot the Dark Lord on the map throughout the day, though he kept checking.
'Why do you think he told us not to be busy tonight? The Horcrux?'
'Generally, he waits for you to be free to soothe your Horcrux.'
'Oh. Yeah. I guess he does.'
His mark burned during dinner, and he apologised to Ginny for missing Necromancy again. She didn't seem phased, waved him off, told him again to ask the Dark Lord, and then turned to Eris.
At Tom's insistence, he took the viaduct courtyard, forced to walk evenly with open eyes across the stones where he'd murdered Dumbledore. He was allowed to bolt down the boathouse stairs.
By then his guard knew not to follow him down, and he Disapparated once he reached the end of the dock.
Two robed figures stood at the entrance of the small, warded cottage. One of them was very clearly Voldemort, but the other, as far as he could tell, wasn't even a Death Eater. He crossed the shimmering green threshold toward the Dark Lord.
As he approached, he could tell it was a woman in dark blue hooded robes with swirling gold tattoos on her hands. The depth of the fabric hid her face, but she seemed to see him just fine.
"Harry Potter. You can call me Vale."
Tom examined her, then Voldemort.
"What's this about?" Harry asked.
The Dark Lord entered the house, leaving the door open. She followed him, and Tom followed her, wary. The room wasn't how he'd last seen it. There was nothing inside apart from the desk and three chairs, as well as a medium-sized chest by the door.
"This is easier for me in the dark," Vale drew her wand and snuffed the candelabras, plunging them into total blackness.
"What's easier for you in the dark?" Harry asked, hands out in front of his face.
She began chanting, and immediately, a light came from his head, the deep green of the killing curse intermixed with a vibrant gold. Light came from the Dark Lord, as well. Dull, deep red and jagged, it snaked all over his robes, looping with a curling, inky darkness originating from his chest.
The blooming magic spread until it lit the entire room, strange shadows dancing in the red and green glow. A golden thread connected to a thread of the darkness, crackling, shooting liquid sparks like rain on the floorboards, smoking where they landed.
"What is this?" Harry repeated. It didn't feel like anything, nothing more than mist on his skin as it engulfed him.
Vale searched the chest by the door, bringing out several magical devices he'd never seen before.
Voldemort sat down, appearing non-plussed.
She used the light cast by their magic to set up three whirring orbs around the room. They opened like flowers, glowing slightly, pulsing like off-beat hearts. Wisps of the darkness and the light were drawn into the devices with each pulse.
"Hello?" Harry said.
'I believe she is an Unspeakable,' Tom thought.
He watched her examine a fourth rectangular object, frowning and humming a song tunelessly.
"Do you want my findings as I see them or later?" She asked.
"Later," Voldemort said.
'…I don't even know what Unspeakables do,' Harry thought.
'That is standard.'
'…Do you know what they do?' He was stepping foot to foot as he watched their magic intertwine, made incredibly uneasy by her presence.
'They deal in complicated and taboo arts. Death, prophecy, time, the mind, love, and, so the conspiracy goes, ritualistic dark magic.'
'Things like Horcruxes?'
'Yes.'
'Oh. Is this bad?'
'I don't know.'
"What are you looking for?" Harry asked.
She continued to pretend he wasn't in the room, casting again, this time specifically at his head.
'I don't like this,' he tried to step away from her, but Tom stopped him and looked at the Dark Lord for any indication that this was fine.
A sharp pain in his head momentarily weakened his knees, nearly dropping him.
"What are you doing?" Tom snapped, whipping to look at her.
Wisps of deep red were pulled from his head to the tip of her wand, and she said: "Huh." Before she deposited the mist-like substance into a jar with a strange mesh lid.
She repeated the process on Voldemort; a deeper, almost black-red mist was drawn from his chest and placed in another waiting jar. She set them aside, still working by the light provided by their interlocking magic.
She held the small rectangular device to his chest, then the Dark Lord's.
"Are you aware of the number of prophecies pertaining to either of you?"
"Of course not," Voldemort said.
"You can watch the number increase in real-time. Here." She showed him the device, and he gave no outward reaction.
"Can I see?" Harry asked.
She didn't even turn to look at him. Instead, she abruptly cancelled the light blooming from Harry and the Dark Lord and plunged the room into darkness once more. Someone lit the candelabras, and Voldemort stood.
"Go." He told Harry, and so he did, bewildered and out the door.
He realised once he stood at the wonky wooden bridge that he'd forgotten about Charlie again.
"Fuck." He kicked the dirt, which was not helpful, but soothing, nonetheless.
He stood there for a long moment, frowning at the apprehensive Death Eaters, looking at him like he might explode but not allowed to leave their posts.
Eventually, Tom shot along the thread that bound them and tapped on Voldemort's head, all while ensuring their thoughts were neat and cherry-picked before the Dark Lord followed them back.
'What is it.'
'Ginny wants to see Charlie. I said I'd ask. But I forgot. And she wants to come with me to the extra classes,' Harry thought rapidly.
He could swear he felt amusement along the thread, faint but familiar.
'She does, does she?'
'Er, yeah.'
'So be it.' Then he was gone.
'Was that a yes to both things?' Harry wondered.
Cassiopeia was pacing in the clock tower courtyard and said: "Fancy seeing you here," when she laid eyes on him.
She kept grinning at him as they walked but didn't say anything until they were locked in the Room of Requirement.
"What was tonight about?" She asked as she sat down.
Harry collapsed into his bed face first instead. "He took me to see an Unspeakable," he mumbled into the covers.
"Oh? Did he say why?"
"Didn't say anything."
"Huh. Did you get the Unspeakable's name?"
"She said to call her Vale. She was rude."
Cassiopeia snorted. "I've never heard of her. He must be desperately curious about unspeakable matters to get someone else involved."
"How worried should I be?" Harry asked, rolling to look at her and propping himself up on an elbow.
"You should be screaming in absolute terror at all times, in my correct opinion."
"I mean, how worried should I actually be," he repeated.
"Exactly that fucking worried, dear; I didn't stutter."
He frowned at her, and she sighed. "Look," she searched the air for words, "Help me?" She asked Tom, who shrugged.
"I have tried. He is purposefully obtuse."
"What? Obtuse? What do you mean? Obtuse about what?" Harry asked.
"See?" Tom said.
"I feel like…"She began, pausing and apparently weighing her words, "I'm watching a toddler waddle into a gunfight with a water pistol. Heinous. I fucking love it."
"Great, so helpful." He muttered.
"Hey, I'm helping; I've been thinking about it all night."
"Thinking about what?"
"How fucking hard it was to get Alicent under his nose and how they ultimately did not fuck anyway."
"Oh." Harry frowned, gnawing his lip.
"So, what's your plan?" She asked.
"Uh."
"Got none. Got it."
"Tom seems to have one, but apparently, it's not for me to know," Harry said.
"It is less of a plan, more of a set of rules," Tom said.
"Yeah, that's smart," she nodded, "Harry needs… Structure."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I was insinuating that you're a dumb dumb," she waved her hand.
"I'm not fucking stupid," Harry snapped, sitting up.
"OH, okay, buddy."
"Don't do that; don't patronise me."
She snapped her fangs and smiled, "Sorry, you're nowhere near as clever as him. Is that better?"
Harry narrowed his eyes and leaned back, looking at the beige two-seater couch instead of her. "Bitch."
She feigned shocked hurt, "Cutting me deeply."
"Tell me what you know, Cassiopeia," Tom rolled his eyes.
"Well, I'm not gonna lie to you; things are a lot harder since we conspired against him to soothe the Horcrux. He's a lot less… Forthcoming. Which, as you know, was not damn much to begin with. So. Thank you for roping me into that. Wait, are you roping me into this?"
Tom blinked at her.
"Fool me once, etcetera." She said.
"Shame on you?" Harry asked.
"I do know that he's suddenly a lot more interested in the school visits and has wrestled control back from everyone he gave it to in order to do it all himself. With you. Because you said you wanted to go?"
"Mostly," Harry said, unwilling to admit to not knowing any of the schools existed. "Do you know anything about the trips? Like, when?"
She wiggled her eyebrows. "Your weekends are booked for the rest of the month."
'Nine schools in… How many weekends?' Harry wondered.
'Three.'
She chewed her tongue and frowned, looking through him. "The Unspeakable thing… I really want him to talk to me about that. It could be problematic. Better odds that it's a big deal if he's not saying shit. What did she do?"
"She had these… Ball things made of really shiny metal. They opened," he mimicked them with his hands. "She was chanting, and this magic came out of us. Out of me and Voldemort. It was like she was taking samples or readings… I don't know. She spoke about the number of prophecies related to us. They said that you could watch the number go up in 'real-time' on this little rectangle thing. She didn't show me," he said when Cassiopeia opened her mouth. "I thought there was only one? Why would there be more?"
"…Tell me about the magic?"
"Mine was gold, and green—like the killing curse. His was black and dark red. It was almost like… I don't know. That light he summons? It was like that came from me. And the darkness came from him. She put her wand to my head, and she pulled something red out, after that. It hurt. She did the same to him and put the mist in jars. Does any of this make any sense to you?"
"No, not a lick, I'm not an Unspeakable. But… I think it's pretty clear this research targets the Horcruxes."
"…Yeah. Yeah, that's what I was worried about." He chewed his lips momentarily, "So, he took over the school trips?"
She grinned, "He's suddenly very involved. He's trying to make it seem like it was his great idea, sending out letters to inform the schools that you're also coming, which has warmed political waters considerably. He seems to expect word to spread from Beauxbatons, isn't doing anything to stop it, so soon enough Europe and the rest will know there's a fight with Harry Potter up for grabs."
"But you think it's more than that?" Harry pressed.
She narrowed her eyes in thought, "When I first noticed Tom looking at Alicent, it was almost like he had no idea. We'd be in potions, and I'd watch him across the room, eyes drilling a damn hole into this Ravenclaw's head. We were fourth years. A few weeks of that, and I said to him, 'Have you met Alicent?' and he said," she paused to laugh, "'Who?' After that, I was on a mission. I befriended Alicent and put him in Tom's way as often as I dared, which, apparently, could have been far more often because it. Took. Years." She narrowed her eyes at him, and Tom shrugged.
"Genuinely no idea what you are talking about," he said.
"Here's the point: He wouldn't have taken Alicent on a world tour. He didn't even know his name. So, I don't think this will take years," instead of positive, she sounded suddenly grave. "And he doesn't get it yet, does he?"
"No," Tom said.
"What?" Harry asked, annoyed.
She sighed, "Tom Riddle is… How is it you know him so well and… He does know, right? Tom? Subconsciously, or something? So awkward talking about you, to you," she muttered.
"You mean the pain thing?" Harry asked.
"In part, that's just a tiny piece." He'd never seen her look uncomfortable before.
Tom was quiet in his head, hidden, but Harry felt wisps of his discomfort.
"Jeez, really gonna make me do it," she muttered, wide eyes not on him. "I have serious doubts that this will play out the way you imagine it. I see you with the Tom in your head. And it won't be that."
"I know."
She shook her head, "No. He'll tear you apart for sport. Physically, mentally, emotionally. Once he has you, he won't let go till you're dead—might even make you wish you were, Harry. You think it's tough having him hate you? Wait till he hates you and has you."
An adrenaline rush flipped his stomach, "Why help me then if we're doomed either way?"
She smiled, tilting her head, "I'm a hopeless romantic."
"Be serious," Tom sighed. "Do you believe the Dark Lord is… Conscious of what he is doing?"
"Ooo, what's he doing? Don't look at me like that, I'm curious. But yes. I believe so. He knows your name if that's what you're asking me. And I think there's some glimmer of hope for you regardless of the terrible cards you've drawn, Harry." She shrugged. "I have loads of reasons, okay?"
"…Okay?"
"Okay." She nodded with finality.
'Do you understand?' Tom thought.
'…I think so.'
'And?' Tom examined his thoughts, his influence threading through them.
'…I'm fine. I'm doing this.' His heart palpitated, and while some of it was fear, a hungry curiosity burned along with it.
'Good.'
