(TW & AN: Sexual scene. Last school chapter ahh! Fuckin' wound up a double-double anyway. You get that in life.)
Castelobruxo (Cass-tell-o-broo-shoo), Somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest, Brazil
El Dorado, Steller
You have to promise not to tell anyone
Secrets seem to find their way out the dark all the time
The dirty details that you never want brought to light
If I tell you mine, then know that I'm walking the line
I can't say too much, I'm facin' the edge of a knife
El Dorado is the city of gold
And I'll tell you all its secrets
If you don't tell a soul
El Dorado is the city of gold
And I met the fuckin' devil
Now I reap what I sow
Mirror, mirror sitting up high on the wall
Save me from the devil that's holdin' my soul
Comin' for the favor that he knows that I owe
Again, Harry was awoken in the middle of the night, this time by the Dark Lord himself—the simple removal of his hand from his chest was enough to startle him semi-upright.
"Are you aware that you are not sleeping?" Voldemort said it with amusement, though Harry detected some concern. He must have heard it in his own voice because he shook himself, stood up, and continued, "…You are not resting adequately enough to fight."
"Pretty rich, coming from you," he grumbled as he got up, assuming that was what he was supposed to do. "I'm sleeping fine."
He cast a Tempus and found it was ten minutes past midnight. That the Dark Lord had maintained contact for around seven hours. While it wasn't unusual, it felt somehow like a mercy. He'd sat on the cheap dining chair—impossible to sleep on—and held it anyway.
'Am I imagining that?' He wondered.
'No, you are right. He is likely unaware of his own reasons; do not mention it to him.'
"I'm hungry," Harry realised out loud, his stomach agreeing with a rumble.
"We will eat in the car."
"Are they gonna send another official with us?"
The tent was dark, and Harry figured Nagini must have been asleep. The thought thickened the air and made his inhale stutter in his throat as he guesstimated the distance between him and the Dark Lord.
"If they do, it is someone to conveniently murder." He was casual but still undeniably approaching.
"…Do everyone a favour and do it sooner." He unconsciously stepped back and cursed the movement, instantly triggering a smirk on Voldemort's face.
"Would you like me to heal that?" The Dark Lord was whispering, and Harry was up against the curtain.
Moving into the dining area felt like a defeat, so he swallowed and held the fabric behind him in a bunched-up fist. The burn in question thrummed a beat on his chest in time with his racing heart. "…No. Not yet."
He hummed, "Tell me truthfully," he was within touching distance, arms behind his back, that fucking smile on his lips—eyes innocent and dangerous at once, "Do you despise what you have become?"
"…Sometimes." Before he could think about it and thus be stopped, he asked, "Do you?"
Tom braced, but Voldemort just hummed a laugh. "No."
"No? Not ever?"
"No."
"You're saying that really confidently. Are you sure you heard me right?"
"…It is you not hearing me. Everything I have ever desired is within my grasp." He fiddled with Harry's shirt collar, running the fabric between two fingers, breath ghosting his chest. "I am what I need to be."
"Right," he muttered, trying to lean into him and pull away at once, "You seem happy."
"I will bring your mongrel Horcrux to heel. It is a matter of when. If I must endure this thorn to reach what is rightfully mine, so be it."
Harry didn't mention all the times he'd watched the Dark Lord come entirely undone under the will of his Horcrux. He was steadfast in his make-believe, that he wasn't afraid, that Harry's Horcrux was little more than an irritation. "That's nice. This has cost me everything. Someone should reap the benefits, right?"
There was a beat of silence. The Dark Lord's fingers stilled on the fabric before they flicked to his neck. "…Clever."
"Was more of an insult; you just took it wrong." He clenched the curtain with both hands and couldn't look away from his eyes—black in the nearly pitch darkness.
"As usual, you have put us behind schedule."
"That's funny; you're in charge of the schedule." A lump in Harry's throat didn't abate with the bliss.
He needed to put intention into standing and resisted the urge to crumple to the floor. Voldemort pulled away before he gave in to it and brushed past him without a word, closer than necessary. He whipped Nagini's curtains open, making enough noise to wake the sleeping serpent.
His Horcrux was requesting entry before Nagini was fully human. He was allowed in, and was practically buzzing.
'Did we fight last time I was here? Damn, I had like a full speech planned about that. Doesn't matter now,' his energy scared Tom and Harry both.
There was no way to predict what he would say or do, and though Tom seemed more confident than he felt overall, his Horcrux's motives didn't add up in Harry's mind.
'To be perfectly clear, clown boy, I expect payment for this information.'
'Of course,' Tom thought.
'He thought about it.' There was a burst of manic glee in his head at his Horcrux's thought, not his and not making sense.
'He thought about what?' Tom pressed.
'Thought about asking your Harry real nice and bending him over the bed just now. I SAW it. He went into proper detail.'
Nagini stood at the foot of her bed and rubbed her eyes, then glared at the Dark Lord. She sat down at the dining table and cupped her chin, yawning. Harry had frozen between his curtains before Tom moved him to a chair, staring wide-eyed at the table top.
'He gave himself a little FEAR.' His Horcrux continued.
The Dark Lord ducked out of the tent and then back in, rubbing his chin while he stared at the chests he must have placed in the corner overnight. He was blinking more than usual, Harry decided.
'By little I mean A LOT.'
Harry felt like he could agree. He spent so much time thinking about what it would take to get the Dark Lord to give in, and not much on what would happen directly after. He swallowed, exhaled, and felt Tom pull his Horcrux away from his awareness.
"…Nagini, get him ready." The Dark Lord exited the tent again, and Harry thought he almost looked lost.
Voldemort's familiar looked at him, her chin still in her hands. "I am so glad this is the last one. I don't think I could stand to travel with you two ever again."
"I hate to break it to you Nagini, but I think you're stuck with me." Harry felt the thread disconnect but didn't move to stand up.
She heaved a loud, dramatic sigh and stood up—slowly and slouching in mock exhaustion before she laughed and straightened. "I'm going to sleep on the hot rock for a week."
His Horcrux retreated, still scarily cheerful in Harry's opinion, though Tom was either unconcerned or not showing it. Nagini gave him clothes to change into, and he showered, testing his magic the instant he was dressed. It wound around his fingers, responsive and familiar. Almost like a security blanket, he held it on his wrist when the Dark Lord returned, hidden under the dark sleeves of a soft, thin button-down shirt.
"Castelobruxo. Amicable enough. If we can find them," Voldemort said, looking him over, his eyes catching several times before their eyes met.
"If we can find them?" Harry repeated, finally registering the words.
"Castelobruxo is also known as El Dorado. Are you familiar with the legend?"
Harry shook his head. The Dark Lord shrunk their chests to the size of matchboxes, summoned them and flicked them into his pocket. He jerked his head at the door, and Harry and Nagini followed him.
"During the late sixteenth and early seventeenth century, European Muggles were working up a frenzy over what they had dubbed 'The New World'." He collapsed the tent, tucking it away as well. "They believed a city of gold was hidden somewhere in the Americas. After they confused themselves considerably, they surmised that the city was a myth." He drew his hood, summoned the black mask, and started toward the chain link gate.
The desert was eerie in the middle of the night, the half-moon and the artificial brightness spilling from a few of the box windows the only light sources. A few bugs chirped, no other sounds.
"So, it isn't a myth?" Harry asked. The gates opened for them, and Voldemort was walking fast. Nagini raced ahead and whispered something in the Dark Lord's ear. He slowed but didn't stop or answer her.
"Not a myth. Not a city, a school. Not technically El Dorado, either." Voldemort stopped behind the yellow four-wheel drive and tucked Nagini beside him like they were hiding from the law. Harry joined them in leaning against the car, hit with another wave of derealisation—the stark strangeness of his shoulder brushing against the Dark Lord's made everything feel unreal.
'He thought about it…? What did my Horcrux say?' He wondered, glancing around in the dark for any sign of anyone else.
'He did not say much. He described… It is not important.'
'Tom.'
'Harry?'
'What did he describe?'
Munmardie and Miriam were approaching from one of the huts, whispering at one another.
'He went into detail about the Dark Lord's… I am going to call it an 'idea'.'
'How- how long do you think…?"
'I do not think it will be much longer. I cannot put a definite timeline on it.'
"Eh there fullas. Best get in the car now, aye? We dun' want no company. A'right, Miriam?"
"Nothing I can't handle," she said, looking up at the lit windows of the Box.
Harry didn't waste time, climbing into the back seat. Nagini stood behind him, holding the door open and looking at him expectantly. "Move over," she said when her staring didn't convey her point.
"Move over; I want the window." She was fighting a grin, her eyes huge as her lips wiggled.
"What? Nagini, no? I don't- I'm not sitti-"
"Move—over." The Dark Lord said.
Harry shuffled into the middle seat and scowled at Nagini while she climbed in, grinning. Voldemort took the other side, sandwiching him. It was a struggle to inhale, the sensation of his thigh pressed against Voldemort's landed another blow on his cognitive dissonance, weakened to breaking point under the weight.
Even masked and hooded, he was stunning. His eyes were highlighted and intense; the veins in his hands and knuckles made Harry's stomach jump and made him shift slightly in his seat, something that brought him even more of the Dark Lord's attention.
as Munmardie started the car and sped for the gate, Voldemort slid his hand between their legs, and Harry did the same—swallowing the tiny sounds in his throat—almost physical things that caught and suffocated him. When their hands met, the Dark Lord gripped his fingers like he wanted to snap them free, but Harry didn't feel like it mattered. The rush of comfortable, floating ecstasy made his body light, all tension flooded out. He wasn't fighting the soft whimpering anymore—barely concealed by the engine—and Voldemort had leaned into them, squeezed his fingers tighter.
The chain link gate had opened, and the Dark Lord touched his wand to the car when asked, not taking his eyes off Harry as it sprouted legs and scuttled into the pitch blackness of the desert. The back seat was silenced when Munmardie turned the radio on. A spike of adrenaline came through the bliss, made him gasp and made the Dark Lord laugh.
Nagini huffed and turned her entire body toward the window.
It was difficult to think when Voldemort touched his skin. His brain dropped thoughts like a drunk dropped coins, and any thought he did have was an unequivocally good idea—also similar to a drunk. The smell of him was a siren song, pulling Harry's face along without his input until he had buried it in the Dark Lord's shoulder. He inhaled until his lungs were painfully full; the scent of cedar, he decided, was his favourite.
"…Smell good," he mumbled into the fabric and repeated the process of taking a full inhale.
He could hear him breathing, almost stuttering breaths, as he crushed Harry's hand. Maybe he'd broken a finger, possibly two. His hands were numb, and he didn't much care. It was easy to fall asleep that way; his face buried in the softness of his robes, cedar and bliss and pain intoxicated him—lulled entirely unconscious, whimpering and gasping as he went.
They didn't eat in the car. Instead, they both slept, jerked awake when the car lost its legs a little over three hours later. When Voldemort released his left hand he decided two fingers were definitely broken. He flexed them anyway, closing his eyes against the sharp pain that shot up into his wrist.
"…Would you like me to heal that for you?" His voice had deepened, eyes trailing from Harry's hand to his face.
Like the burn and the bite, he found himself wanting to feel it, resistant to the idea of healing them in the same way—for reasons that weren't entirely clear to him. He shook his head no, and the Dark Lord picked up his hand anyway. He examined the fresh bruising closely, dark purple and red, visible in the dim light. They'd reached Davenport, a few deep yellow streetlights scattered amongst the sleeping town.
They parked and disembarked, Flooed back to the city and reappeared in the bank. The room was lit by a single lamp at the desk, this time guarded by a stern old woman with fuchsia lipstick and a crochet hook, furiously twining yarn as she glared them out the door.
Munmardie was right behind them, and the lift ride was suitably awkward. The car they'd arrived in the day before was still parked in the same spot, the windshield covered in parking tickets, one wheel locked for towing.
"Get that for me, could ya?" Munmardie said, unlocking the car and getting in, activating the windshield wipers and littering the concrete with tickets.
The streets were almost empty, the occasional distant shouting of drunks breaking up the sound of light late-night traffic. Brightly lit bitumen glowing red, orange, and green under stoplights and streetlights. Two drunk men were stumbling around on the other side of the road, one holding a beer.
"Aye, mask face! It ain't Halloween! And we ain't American!" One of the drunks shouted. He laughed uproariously like he'd told a joke.
'…It's pretty close to Halloween, isn't it?" Harry asked in Parseltongue as the Dark Lord flicked his wand to release the wheel lock, eyes on the drunks goading him from the other side of the street. "There'd be security cameras, right?"
"…Friday. Halloween." Voldemort said. "Imperio."
The drunk who yelled smashed his beer bottle on his friend's head, dropping him instantly to the concrete. Voldemort opened the car door for Harry and rounded to the other side, radiating gleeful malice. He watched the drunk realise what he'd inexplicably done—and Harry watched the Dark Lord. The man tried to wake his friend and seemed to understand he'd committed a heinous crime in the same instant. He stumbled away as fast as his unsteady legs would take him while Voldemort opened his own door. Harry shot into the car, less apprehensive about the middle seat.
The Dark Lord didn't touch him, and the drive from the city to the airport was short in the dead of night. Rushes of anticipation jumped through his stomach every few seconds, and he wrung his hands in his lap; the agony in his fingers grounded him and made it worse simultaneously.
Nagini passed Voldemort the flask of Polyjuice potion before they stopped, and he was Avrom Dermot when they reached their destination.
Munmardie left them in the car park, greeted by a stern, officially dressed man with a clipboard and two security guards. He didn't say anything to them as he showed them through the nearly empty claim area, through to the back.
Voldemort took a new Portkey from his pocket in the sorting area, and Harry was relieved to see it. He, Nagini, and the Dark Lord put their fingers on a gaudy gold necklace inlaid with a fat emerald.
It was late afternoon and viridian green when they reappeared. They were alone in the middle of a rainforest. The Dark Lord rolled his head and shoulders back and closed his eyes.
"Do you think that drunk guy killed his friend?" Harry asked, and Voldemort's eyes pinged open, his shoulders regaining their tension.
"…I don't care. We're not looking for the school tonight. It's Saturday here." The Dark Lord was flustered—His eyes wide, words contracted, accent ghosting through the serpent tongue—Harry knew the signs well. He just wasn't sure why.
He almost hoped for his Horcrux to bound into his head with an explanation, though he didn't feel he could trust a word.
Nagini was smiling at the trees towering overhead, then she shifted into a serpent and climbed one, steadily winding up the trunk until she was gone in the leaves. Voldemort sat down in the leaf litter, put his back against a tree, and frowned at the ground.
"Why that school?" Harry asked again. Tom didn't stop him from pestering, so he figured it was a sound strategy.
"Tell me what came to you. What you wanted to do. To Bellatrix." He bit the questions out as if he didn't want to ask.
It was dark within the trees. Though he could tell the sun was still shining—slowly setting—it barely penetrated the canopy, faux night on the ground.
Harry sensed it was in his best interest to answer, and Tom confirmed it.
"I felt like… I was too strong. I wanted to make it," he inhaled and fought the urge to say the rest in a whisper, "I wanted to make it last longer. For a second, I thought maybe days. Maybe weeks, I could have dropped by every afternoon and watched the look on her face while she realised the only way out was… I felt like I was crushing an insect. It was too fast."
"Pourquoi ne pas le laisser plaider?" The Dark Lord snapped, and Tom laughed, a grin spreading wide on his face and staying there.
'What did he say?'
'Why not let him plead?'
'…Oh.'
Voldemort stood slowly, and the alarmed shrieking of small monkeys overhead signalled that Nagini was up to something.
He withdrew the tent and left Harry in search of a wide enough clearing. He let the Dark Lord go, taking a deep breath and holding it.
'It seems like. I dunno. He might give in…'
'He is close. He needs a push.'
'A push?'
'We need to force his hand. He is still frustratingly resistant. I have some ideas.'
'Like what?' Harry wondered as Voldemort vanished within the tent.
'Alcohol is an option, albeit a weak one. Otherwise, you are doing… Perfectly. You are almost all he thinks about; I am certain of it.'
'…You said some ideas? That was just one?'
'Not important now.'
Harry rolled his eyes and watched a large centipede disrupt the dim leaf litter. The monkeys had fallen silent, and the bird calls died off as the sun set. Though it was almost too dark to see, Harry didn't pick himself up off the ground until Nagini came down. She didn't bother with her human form, snaking through the leaves quietly beside Harry, a bulge in her middle.
There was food on the table, and it stopped Harry in his tracks. Nagini bypassed it and them entirely, disappearing under her curtain.
"Did you cook?" Harry asked, staring at the bread and soup sat at the centre.
"…No." His tone said, 'Don't be ridiculous.' He was already sat at the table, and appeared as though he'd just been staring into the void.
Harry realised again that he was ravenous and sat down before he registered the thought.
"What if we don't find the school?" Harry asked, staring at the soup. Meat and potatoes.
"I am of the mind that they would not invite us to search and leave us to wander aimlessly in the Amazon."
"If they hated you, it would be a fun way to tell you so," Harry watched the soup transfer to bowls under the direction of the Dark Lord's magic, his mouth watering. "You said it was El… Dorado? And not El Dorado, technically?" He snatched the bowl as soon as there was enough.
He noticed that Voldemort gave himself significantly less, stirred it with the spoon instead of eating it. "…An alien Indian, hailing from afar, who in the town of Quito did abide. And neighbour claimed to be of Bogata, there having come, I know not by what way, did with him speak and solemnly announce a country rich in emeralds and gold."
Harry stared at him, tested the temperature of his bowl, and then began inhaling it.
"Also, among us the things which them engaged, a certain king he told of who, disrobed, upon a lake was wont—aboard a raft—to make oblations, as himself had seen his regal form overspread with fragrant oil on which was laid a coat of powdered gold from sole of foot unto his highest brow, resplendent as the beaming of the sun." Voldemort tore a chunk of bread free and did nothing with it.
"Arrivals without end, he further said, were there to make rich votive offerings of golden trinkets and of emeralds rare and divers other of their ornaments; and worthy credence these things he affirmed; the soldiers, light of heart and well content, then dubbed him El Dorado, and the name by countless ways was spread throughout the world."
"…Eat," Harry said.
"El Dorado was a man, in the beginning. Word was spread and butchered, morphing his name into the name of a 'mythical' city borne of gold and emerald. Most of the Americas were mapped by Europeans and their ilk solely due to the hunt for El Dorado."
"And it's the Wizarding school?"
"Only in that it is the 'city' described as rich. It is assumed that El Dorado, the man, was educated at Castelobruxo and announced himself as a god among men for material gain. The Statute of Secrecy was introduced not long thereafter. Unrelated, it is claimed."
The potato was almost too hot to chew, so he panicked and swallowed it, "Eat," he repeated.
He narrowed his eyes and huffed, dipped his bread in the soup and took a bite.
"Ever been told you're stubborn?"
"Harry, I am surrounded by sycophantic fucking twitching morons. No, I am not usually told that I am stubborn."
"It's a good thing you have Cassiopeia, Nagini, and me. Otherwise, your ego might inflate."
Voldemort barked a laugh, and his eyes were instantly watering. He gripped the table with one hand—and hid his face with the other. He shook with silent giggles, then barely restrained snorts. "We wouldn't want that." He realised he was laughing and abruptly stopped, frowning at the soup.
"More," Harry said, pointing at his bowl.
"Add watching you kill Bellatrix to my list of regrets."
"Talking like you don't love bread? Mister 'No regrets ever'."
"…I regret not simply scooping you out of your crib and dropping you headfirst out the window."
"No one cares. Eat."
He made a 'tsss' sound and bit the bread, narrowed his eyes, and meticulously chewed. Harry pestered until the Dark Lord looked fit to pitch a full-blown tantrum, around halfway through his soup.
He was left to lie awake in his bed, Nagini and Voldemort both dead asleep. He knew because he'd snaked the curse through the curtains and 'seen' them both. The Dark Lord's hand was hanging off the edge of his bed, and Harry was repeatedly batting away the same desperate thought.
Climbing into the bed with Voldemort was a death sentence. Tom had confirmed it. Creating a makeshift bed on the floor and holding his hand? A grey area. Eventually, the exhaustion moved him, and he collected his pillows and blankets. Then, he stood in place until his heart settled back into his chest.
He was almost surprised not to be instantly caught, expecting wards or alarms, an explanation ready on his tongue. It was unneeded; the Dark Lord was entirely unresponsive, lightly snoring, muttering, his mouth open.
Harry arranged his pillows and blankets on the floor and used his pillow to prop his arm up and maintain contact. He didn't breathe as he touched Voldemort's hand, tentative with his still broken left hand. He almost yelped when the Dark Lord gripped his fingers on contact, gasped into his free palm until the bliss blurred the pain.
"You'll let me out you'll let me out let me out or black is the forest let me outtt or reaching is the horror's scream burn it burn it buuurn it, you'll let me out out out out or allll will suffer dawn or you'll let me out-"
Harry wasn't really listening to Voldemort's sleep talking—gnarled, angry hissing—his eyes stung with exhaustion as they rolled closed.
He woke when the Dark Lord did, the break in contact alarming. It took him a few seconds to understand Voldemort staring down at him. He looked baffled at first, then his eyes narrowed.
"…Helping yourself?"
"'You're not sleeping well enough to fight,'" Harry said. "You said that."
"Are you fighting?"
"Don't be a-" He clenched his good hand, "What am I supposed to do?"
The Dark Lord shook his head several times, mouth opening and closing, before he sprang out of the bed and through the curtains. Harry cast a Tempus and found it was just past four in the morning. Voldemort paced in front of the tent entrance, and Harry pursed his lips.
"What have I told you about touching me?"
"To be honest, I get conflicting messages."
"You—will—not."
"How do I sleep then? When? When you feel like it? 'Cause you were right. I'm not. Like, at all. I can't sleep at all."
"You and I both."
"…You were snoring last night."
The Dark Lord looked away, and again, Harry felt like it was a victory. He didn't know if he'd convinced him that he needed to sleep every night, but figured he definitely won the argument.
Voldemort woke Nagini, and they ate a quick breakfast, both Harry and the Maledictus irritated the Dark Lord into eating. His familiar insisted he also drink a potion, but no one told Harry what it was. He was given clothes to change into, much like the day before. The tent was collapsed when the sun gave enough light to walk by, and they set out to find El Dorado.
The vegetation was cut through by the Dark Lord, walking ahead of them with his wand drawn, slashing the forest to pieces.
'Was it a bad idea?' Harry wondered.
'I think it turned out to be a fantastic idea. I believe he is mad because you are right. There is mounting pressure to keep you around every waking and sleeping moment.'
He wasn't sure if he could handle that any better than Voldemort could, but he had something the Dark Lord didn't: a safety net to catch the words in his mouth.
It was shockingly loud in the rainforest, birds, animals, and insects calling simultaneously. A cacophony. The humidity had him sweating within a minute. Nagini walked beside him, apparently taking the directive 'Find El Dorado' very seriously, her head on a swivel.
"What will it look like?" She asked after fifteen minutes of blindly cutting through the forest.
"You will know it when you see it," the Dark Lord's tone was final, and he picked up his pace as if trying to flee them.
There wasn't another word said for an hour. Voldemort stopped his onslaught abruptly, holding up a hand to silence them. Ahead were two jaguars over a fresh kill, one batting at the other's face and growling—baring its bloodied teeth. The Dark Lord watched them momentarily before he changed course, going around the huge cats almost nonchalantly. Harry watched them for as long as he could, catching up only when he risked falling behind.
'He almost looks like he's gonna throw another tantrum,' Harry thought.
'You are not wrong.'
Harry's Horcrux requested entry after another stretch of silence, and Tom allowed it. He was too busy not tripping on butchered undergrowth to give them his full attention, Voldemort keeping an uncomfortably fast pace. Nagini had it worse, her shorter legs made her slower, and she had to bound over obstacles. She didn't seem phased, though, springing through the forest and laughing quietly, breathlessly.
'Put a leech down his shirt.'
'…What?' Harry nearly paused and fought it off.
'…Put a leech down his shirt.' His Horcrux repeated.
'Where would I find a leech, for starters?'
'Wow, wow. Clown idiot. You're in the RAINFOREST. There's three leeches right there look.'
Harry did stop then, as he spotted the small, slug-like black parasites on a broad leaf, level with his face. "Uhh, there's leeches everywhere?"
'Throw a handful of ticks at his cock.'
Nagini was staring at him and pursing her lips. The Dark Lord slowly turned.
"We are in a rainforest."
"Yeah, I know that, obviously. But are we… Are we gonna do something to stop it? Prevent them?"
"…Walk."
'He prevented them for Nagini and himself but not for you 'cause he wants you covered in parasites are you gonna stand for that leg boy? Choke him. CHOKE HIM.'
Instead of choking the Dark Lord, Tom ran sweeps of the curse every few minutes. Up and down the entire length of his body, bloomed the pain from head to toe, making him stumble nearly every time.
'How long can someone have a boner before they die from it? I'm-' Harry began, then remembered his Horcrux was in his head.
'Show it to him, that might help.' His Horcrux thought, almost casually.
'…What do you want?'
'…I'm booored. This is boooring. When I said I'd help you I didn't think about how BORING it is being quiet. Do you know what it's like in his head? He's the most boring, tortured mother fucker. Listen, I have an idea.'
'…What is it,' Tom thought.
'I wanna do another dream.'
'…And the idea is?'
'That's the idea. I'm bored, it was fun. Again.'
'I don't want to do another dream. No,' Harry thought.
'Make him say yes.'
'What are you going to do?' Tom wondered, sweeping Harry with the curse. He knew it was a distraction, and it worked anyway.
'I dunno, I just thought of it. But the possibilities… I have ideas. I'm having more as we speak. Harry, what does it feel like when he chokes you?'
'…What?'
'I think you should do it back. Maybe in the dream? Who cares what happens in no man's land? Just say you have no idea what happened. He'd believe you 'cause you're stupid and impulsive.'
'Hey-'
'Do not call him stupid.' Tom thought.
'Sorry. Clinically brain dead and impulsive.'
Clouds were rolling overhead, darkening the forest to the point the Dark Lord cast a Lumos, sending it above.
'I'm not doing another dream. Tom. No.'
'But Tooom what if I have some really good ideas? What if they work? Huh?'
It was Tom who stopped them. He leaned against the tree and requested a break, drenched in sweat and grinding his teeth.
'It is ultimately a dream, Harry. Continued reluctance makes me question if you are ready for this. I'll remind you; it's too late to back out—unless… And Harry, if you have ideas, give them to the rest of us.'
'Unless what you gonna kill him?' His Horcrux latched onto the slip like a viper.
'…Your ideas?' Tom insisted.
'I- the dream was fucked up, okay? Don't- if we have to, don't sing.' Harry thought, moving again.
Nagini had given him a flask of ice-cold water, practically a gift from an angel.
'Oh, we have to. But I have such a beautiful voice? Fine, no singing.' His tone made it sound like he was going to do something worse.
'…What are you going to do?' Tom repeated.
'I'll tell you, but it'll cost you.'
Harry clenched his fists as they vanished in his head, focusing instead on the back of the Dark Lord's head. After ten minutes of silence in his mind, he walked into Voldemort's back, not registering that he'd stopped again. He held up a hand, and then he was whispering frantically in Parseltongue.
"Nagini. Serpent. Become serpent."
She didn't ask questions, dropping to the leaf litter as the Dark Lord backed up, wand raised. Harry stumbled back, too, though he didn't know why.
"Lethifold. Lethifold." Voldemort seemed to be warning himself as they scrambled backwards up the slope they'd just skidded down.
Tom took over Harry's arms and legs when the Dark Lord said 'Lethifold', and vaulted them up the hill, scrambling to get upright. Harry spotted it, like a black bed sheet drifting in deep water, the underside opening to reveal tentacle-like appendages attached to rows upon rows of saw-blade teeth. Though it moved through the trees almost leisurely—making noises like the sea at night—it rapidly reached the light of the Dark Lord's Lumos.
Voldemort sent killing curses first—to no effect—then Bombardas. Harry had been about to tell him to use the light, but he misjudged how fast it was moving—almost like an optical illusion, the Lethifold was on him, draping over the Dark Lord bizarrely gently.
"Expecto Patronum!" It was Tom who cast. The spell roared out of him, audible and shaking the trees with a vibrant shock wave.
It was not the stag that Harry expected. A great lion plucked the Lethifold off the Dark Lord and crunched it easily in his massive jaws, black blood raining on the leaf litter.
'…Fuck that's wicked! Shoulda let the Lethifold take the rest of his legs though.'
Harry had forgotten momentarily about his Horcrux and the Dark Lord—who had clenched both fists and dug them into his eyes, his breathing ragged. He hadn't made a sound throughout, which was impressive because his legs were bleeding profusely from ankle to hip. Shredded, as far as Harry could tell. Nagini approached in human form, digging through her robe pockets with mild concern. The colossal lion dropped the sheet-like beast on the ground and sat down, incredibly out of place. Ten feet tall, incorporeal, his mane glowing bright blue.
"Your Patronus—is—a—stag." The Dark Lord bit the words out, sat up partially, found his wand in the leaf litter, and began healing as his familiar passed him potions with a steady hand.
"It is."
"That is—a—lion."
"Correct again," Harry watched his wounds begin to close, his pants ruined.
His eyes were torn between the Dark Lord and the Patronus, who had decided to stay. Tom was silent in his head, but Harry felt little waves of awe prickling out, joining his.
'That's your Patronus?' Harry thought, not really a question.
'I expected… Less? I thought… Maybe just light, but…' Tom went silent, keeping Harry's eyes on the lion.
'What did you think of?'
His Horcrux laughed, shrill. "Bet he thought about how much-'
Tom yanked him away before he could finish the thought. Though his legs weren't yet healed, Voldemort focused on Harry.
"Is that my Horcrux's Patronus?"
"…It's not mine."
He finished the healing rapidly and probably haphazardly, got to his feet, and demanded that Harry dispel the Patronus. He blinked at the lion, and it blinked at him, and he didn't know how to do that. Any attempt he made didn't connect like he was on the wrong radio frequency.
'Tom?'
The Dark Lord was searching for a place to set up the tent. The way his hands shook told Harry the light was just under his skin.
"…Over there?" He pointed, and Voldemort spun on the spot, muttering as he erected the tent where Harry said he should.
He examined the Lethifold while the Dark Lord vanished within, Nagini following him. A great sheet of fabric punctured all over by the Patronus, bizarre flesh poking through what otherwise looked like cloth. That, and it was belly-up, its shredder-like mouth ringed by long, thin, black tentacles—almost like hairs, too many to count. The lion was licking its paw—the size of a car tire, claws like butcher's knives.
'Tom? I think he's gonna go ballistic if he looks at your Patronus again.' He wasn't sure if they could hear him, and he hated his Horcrux. Harry tried to shoo the lion, and it ignored him completely.
They didn't come out before Voldemort and Nagini did, in new pants and presumably fully healed. "I told you to get rid of it?"
"Yeah. I tried? And Tom is… Freaking out? About casting it to begin with?" The lie had him flinging his full mental weight at Tom's private section in his head.
His Horcrux shot out like a bullet, and the Dark Lord dropped to his knees in the same instant, gripping his temples while Tom cleared the Patronus. Voldemort straightened, and repeatedly inhaled, almost like he had the hiccups, his eyes bulging, face red.
'…He's telling him that I'm so happy I made a 'Patronus with a cock the size of a tractor.' I don't know why he chose tractor… Or any of it. I told him it was unwise,' Tom thought.
'Great. This is going great.'
'…He has some genuinely good ideas. For the dream. I want to see them play out.'
'In a sick way? Do you want to see them play out in a sick way?'
'…Harry.'
'Not even shocked at this point.'
'It's the knowledge I want. Mostly.'
'Are you going to fill me in on the plan or…?'
'He is about to lose his mind. Later.'
Tom was right, the Dark Lord was twitching, apparently blind, eyes unfocused as he was locked in his mind with Harry's Horcrux.
"…Do you hear that?" Nagini asked, tilting her head.
Harry heard nothing besides the unending squawking, howling, and chirping. The constant buzzing of mosquitoes.
"Is it drums?" She asked. Voldemort wasn't listening to her. He glared at Harry instead, his nose scrunched up, eyes narrowed and manic.
'I probably should have done the Patronus,' he thought.
He still couldn't hear what Nagini could. She was turning on the spot, listening. Then she was climbing a tree. Though it was nothing more than a trunk with no branches to grab, she was startlingly high within seconds.
While Harry had been watching her ascend, Voldemort had closed the distance. "Drag—that."
"…Huh?"
"The Lethifold. Tell me what you know of Lethifolds. My Horcrux answers I'll pull your windpipe out your mouth."
"You're so creative with your threats. Have you done that before? Pulled someone's throat—Ah, they…. Look like sheets, big, mincey teeth…"
Voldemort's face twitched, and Harry figured he hadn't said the right thing yet. "Ah. I think they're quite rare?"
"Yes. And?"
"Uhm. I don't know. What?"
"Lethifolds hunt at night. Sleeping humans are its prey. Tell me what you notice?"
"It's daytime; we're not sleeping?"
"Yes. Drag—that." He repeated. He looked up at Nagini, only visible as a shake in the leaves.
"I see smoke! And light!" She called down, then steadily dropped herself to the ground. "That way."
She led them, and Harry tentatively lifted a corner of the Lethifold. It was soft like it had a high thread count. It was light enough but awkward to maneuver. He figured it was a punishment for the Patronus he hadn't cast; easy enough to put the beast in a trunk and shrink it down, harder to drag its snagging corpse through the vegetation.
"How far?" The Dark Lord asked Nagini.
"Not too far."
Harry didn't know how far 'Not too far' was, but they didn't reach the smoke after twenty minutes of dragging the dead Lethifold. An increasingly cumbersome task made harder by his still broken fingers.
"…I need to stop." He stopped as he said it, dropped the sheet and flexed his hands.
The Dark Lord didn't say anything, his jaw working as he came to a standstill.
Harry looked the Lethifold over, covered in leaves and dragging a number of branches behind it. As he rounded to remove them, he swore he saw it twitch. He shook his head and focused on the fine tentacles, and sure enough, they were moving.
"Uhh. This- I mean I think it's alive? It's moving?"
Nagini was the first to inspect it, leaning in close. "Don't kill it!" She spun when she saw movement, raising her hands and standing between it and Voldemort—his wand already raised.
"Nagini this is not a beast we can simply release in a Vivarium."
"Then don't do that?" Her hands were on her hips, her tone said 'Duh.'
"…We cannot keep a Lethifold. It is nearly dead anyway. A mercy killing Nagini," He moved to step forward and she blocked him again.
"Nagini."
"I'm not moving. We're going to keep it."
"Why must you insist on taking every stray?"
"…Why don't you ever think ahead? A Lethifold? The potions you could make? …Autonomous prisoner disposal?"
Harry had never seen her look darker than when she said 'Autonomous prisoner disposal'.
"Two issues with that. Firstly, It is a Lethifold! Nagini! You cannot train it like a Crup. Secondly, It is about to die. Likely in order to escape this tedium."
"I agree with Nagini." The words tumbled out of his mouth as he thought them, joining in for the fun of it.
"You—do—not."
"Thanks, Harry." She grinned at him, and he shrugged.
"It's soft."
"It's soft? It's SOFT?!" Voldemort repeated, gripping his hair. "Nagini, step aside. We can make potions with its corpse."
"One time?" She threw her arms in the air, and Harry fought a hysterical grin.
"It will make more than one potion." He rubbed his face furiously, "We are wasting time."
"You are." She said.
He looked like he might laugh from the bafflement before he pulled a chest from his pocket, tossed it on the grass, enlarged it, and gave them both a disgusted look.
"Move. I'll put it in the damn chest. If it's dead by the time we return, good. Enough. Both of you. Not another word."
Nagini grinned at Harry and stepped away from the Lethifold as it was summoned and crammed in the chest. The Dark Lord shrunk it put it back in his pocket, and his Horcrux requested entry just to say that he'd helped save the Lethifold, then left again. Something that Harry didn't think was of high consequence. Tom found it interesting though, pinning it in their head like an exclamation point.
Without having to drag the Lethifold, they moved faster. Harry rolled his eyes at Voldemort, constantly complaining about his wasted time. Within a few minutes, he heard the drums Nagini had heard almost half an hour earlier.
If Harry hadn't been looking down and to his left at that exact moment, he would have missed the small brown piglet with a green elf riding its back. "Uh…"
"WHAT?! WHAT? IS—IT?"
"…There was an elf. Riding a pig?"
Instead of inciting him further, Voldemort heaved a sigh of relief. "Why didn't you say that sooner?"
"I literally said it as soon as I saw it."
The slope was getting steep, and the undergrowth was thick. Several times he was saved from falling into the narrow, shallow stream below them by vines and plants. Still, they didn't go around, descending into the water and climbing back up the other side. Harry's left hand shook in protest, his two middle fingers black, blue, and swollen. He didn't ask for them to be healed. Part stubborn, part enjoying it.
The drums were close in under half an hour, and the air was filled with Doxies—wide blue eyes, wings for ears. The Dark Lord stunned them out of the air when they got within range, fist-sized fairy-like creatures lost in the leaf litter. Voldemort had summoned his mask, replaced his hood, and presented the Babel Fish.
"They probably belong to the school, you know." Nagini chided.
"Why they would want Doxies is beyond me," he continued stunning them.
They broke through the trees into a wall of colour and sound, bright light nearly blinding him after hours spent in the canopy. Yellow and green were predominant in the open clearing, set against a backdrop of an Aztec-style temple constructed entirely of gold—embellished with emeralds bigger than his head—a beacon even under cloud cover.
Students in bright green robes stopped to gawk at them, first one by one, then in numbers. There were magical beasts everywhere, more creatures than the students and staff.
Gold balls of light hovered above the clearing, and as he watched, they were extinguished. The drums stopped. A brunette woman in the same shade of green—covered in jewellery, multiple rings, necklaces, and earrings, all gold—stepped through the crowd of students, smiling with her arms wide.
"Olá! We saw the light of a Patronus and thought we should give you a help along. Welcome," she was interrupted by the trumpet of what sounded like an elephant, "To Castelobruxo. I am the headmistress, Poliana Medeiras."
Voldemort exhaled and shoved Harry forward.
"Hello," he waved purely out of spite. "I'm Harry Potter."
Nagini snorted, and there was an awkward beat of silence.
"…Okay! Well." She clapped once and looked at the man next to her, dressed in the same colour, with significantly fewer jewels. He grimaced and said nothing.
"We were attacked by a Lethifold," the Dark Lord said, and Harry figured that was what he was supposed to say.
"…I'm sorry? What did you say?" Poliana said.
"Lethifold? Looks like a bed sheet. With lots of teeth?" Harry said.
"There hasn't been a Lethifold nearby in- hundreds of years?" She was talking to the man beside her, and Harry was no longer sure what was in English and what was probably Portuguese—Tom told him.
"Er, I am so sorry? These things do not happen here? And in the day?" She seemed genuinely flustered.
Tom was searching for dishonesty, in the same way that the Dark Lord was, his eyes sharp as he came to stand beside Harry.
"It was not an issue," Voldemort said. "We captured it."
"Captured it?" The headmistress frowned, then repeated Voldemort's words to the man beside her and the rest of her staff.
"Hopefully, it is as dead as it looks."
Nagini tsked.
"…We will discuss further inside? We have lunch and a tour for you. Our six champions are ecstatic you are here. Harry in particular." Poliana said, and Harry flinched, bit his tongue, and gave the headmistress a 'Stop immediately if you want to live' look.
She winced and gave him a small nod in return. She turned to take them through the clearing, and Harry finally got to take in the sheer number of creatures.
"We have impressive Magizooology and Biomagology programs. Students from all over the world transfer here to attend." She said, watching Harry notice a young girl with a Demiguise on her shoulder.
He couldn't count the Kneazles, a small army of large cats of all colours. One student was trying to control a Dugbog, plucking Doxies from the air with its long toad tongue. Kappas in a shallow pond were trying to lure kids in, though they just laughed at the blood-drinking, monkey-like aquatic creatures.
Harry followed Poliana and a handful of her staff and students up a long gold staircase—no guardrails, a straight line to the wide, square emerald emerald-encrusted doors.
Inside, it was equally opulent; almost painful to look at the golden light ping off golden tiles. Emerald eyes in statues, backless chaise lounges lining a t-shaped entrance room, a fountain in the centre that shot water from the mouths of Kelpies. Wide open windows allowed all manner of birds and airborne creatures in and out, the room buzzing.
The students that had followed them had taken the lead, buzzing, talking too fast and too quietly for Harry to catch. They couldn't have been the six; were far too young.
The dining hall in Castelobruxo was a welcome sight. A single massive table, bearing a banquet. Harry had found that with improved sleep, his appetite was back with a vengeance.
'I am crazy, aren't I? I killed Bellatrix and all I can think about is how hungry and horny I am.' Harry thought as he sat down, clenching and quickly unclenching his fists—broken fingers momentarily forgotten, then abruptly remembered.
He had sat down first, not really in the mood for pleasantries or politics or the Dark Lord's attitude. He served himself, piling a plate with food and going for the chicken first. "This is really good, thank you," he said with his mouth full, and Poliana looked somewhere between amused and baffled.
It helped somewhat in taking the Dark Lord's attention from the headmistress and onto Harry, so he figured he was doing her a favour.
"What are you doing?" Voldemort asked in Parseltongue, "Were you raised in a barn? By pigs?"
"I'm hungry; you eat like we're in a famine or something. Here's a feast, and you said you don't care about the competition. Neither do I. So, sit down and do your political… Whatever."
"…I agree with Harry," Nagini poked her tongue out and then grinned, sitting beside him.
She piled her plate, smirking while Voldemort sat on the other side of her, visibly seething through the anonymity.
"…Really good," Harry repeated, and Poliana looked like her smile hurt, discomfort obvious.
"They all speak the snake language." The man said. Harry had assumed that he didn't speak English, and so figured he must be hearing Portuguese.
"…Yes." Her tone was final and a warning, given through gritted teeth. Then she said, "Our six champions will be along very shortly. Please… Help yourselves in the meantime."
Nagini held up a piece of pineapple in thanks, her mouth overly full.
"My two human Horcruxes. At their trough."
"…Hilarious," Harry said.
"And he thinks he isn't funny?" Nagini said.
"He's wrong; he's a crack-up all the time."
"Will you two cease?" Voldemort said.
"You started it."
"They seem to speak it very well?" The man insisted. "Perhaps they could speak to it; much could be revealed?"
"Davi, please. We have no cause to trust them." She sat as though she was being actively electrocuted, her brown eyes wide and jumping further open with every word she spoke. "So sorry. We are talking logistics?"
'Her face when she lies,' Tom thought, so Harry took note of it.
The six champions of Castelobruxo and another two staff members interrupted the awkward discomfort. Three boys, three girls, and two men. Harry noticed that all the staff he'd seen thus far were handsome men. They sat down at the table across from them, and as the headmistress had said, they seemed thrilled to see 'Harry in particular'.
"This is Alexandre Simões de Almeida." She pointed to the closest boy.
His head was almost clean shaven—dark brown hair. He had angular green eyes, brightened by his robes. He was more fascinated than excited, and when he stood up to introduce himself, he asked about Parseltongue in Portuguese.
"…Why do they keep asking about Parseltongue?" Harry asked.
"Quiet."
He rolled his eyes and refocused on the teen, who'd sat back down.
"Manuel Gonçalves de Salles," Poliana seemed stressed by everyone's interest, her upper lip sweating as she batted away another whispered question from Davi.
Manuel stood, gave a short bow, grinning at Harry all the while, almost reminding Harry of Draco Malfoy in his first year on the Slytherin Quidditch team—itching to prove himself against Harry Potter, who still had his mouth full of chicken. He was tall, over six foot, with short black hair and light brown eyes, athletically built. Like every single one of them, Harry saw himself winning the fight.
Liquida Tenebris was a gun to a knife fight.
"José Matos Arruda," Poliana said, still trying to get her staff to stop muttering questions.
José was focused on the Dark Lord, dark green eyes calculating. Tom knew a potential sycophant when he saw one, and it was safe to assume Voldemort saw the same. He was identical in height to Manuel, though that was where the similarities stopped. He was far thinner, shoulder length curly brown hair, green eyes, lighter skin.
When he sat down, Davi was again asking under his breath. Voldemort's patience paid off, and he said a key set of words that nearly made Harry Drop his fork. 'Horned Serpent.'
Poliana's squawk—which she turned into a non-convincing laugh—was enough to hide Nagini's mild choking.
"…Uh, Ariane Silva Machado," the headmistress said, and the first girl stood.
She smiled at Harry like he'd said something funny. Ariane was short and stocky, with curly black hair cut just below her ears, a messy puffball. She held herself chest forward with such enthusiasm that even he noticed.
"…You heard him say Horned Serpent?" Harry whispered in Parseltongue.
"I am surprised anyone heard it over the sound of your chewing."
"That's an exaggeration."
"Is something the matter? With the food? Or…?" Poliana asked, her rings clicking together as she clasped her hands on the tabletop.
"He's saying I chew too loud," Harry said.
Nagini snorted and poked him in the ribs. "You'll get everyone killed and then he'll be mad at you about it." She warned, though she was smirking.
"You know, at first I thought, 'Wow, Nagini is so sweet and good-natured; what is she doing here?' But I'm starting to see it. She's like… The nicest villain?" He'd muttered it, but the Dark Lord's familiar heard it anyway.
She cackled for almost three whole minutes, repeatedly slapping Harry's shoulder.
"…Nagini." Voldemort sighed as he said it.
"Sorry," she said, grin still huge, snorting and holding it in. "Starting to see it?" She broke into giggles all over again and hid her mouth in her arm.
"Our resident genius detective." The Dark Lord said. Almost absent.
"…How are you gonna get that serpent?" Harry asked.
He didn't respond; instead allowed Poliana to fill the silence.
"Marisa Câmara da Costa."
Her curly hair hung past her waist even though it was in a high ponytail. Her brown eyes were huge and disarming, glittering with excitement that was hidden on the rest of her face.
"And lastly," Poliana cleared her throat, seemingly about to bounce in her seat, a frown line prominent between her brows. "Júlia Nunes Castilho."
She was built like a track runner, or a swimmer. Tall, thin, and muscled. She had short brown hair, and a masculine cut. Round dark brown eyes. If Harry had to pick who was most thrilled to be there, he would say Júlia was. She nearly vibrated, reminding Harry of a Jack Russel terrier.
The six all spoke at once in Portuguese, then stopped.
"They are excited to show you our school," Poliana said, rising out of her seat. Her staff and students followed, so Harry did the same.
The inside of the school was small for the number of residents. Four dormitories housed the two hundred students, and only a handful of classrooms were inside the golden temple.
They were returned to the grounds where most of the students had remained. There were dozens of small buildings within the clearing and in the trees. Glass houses, barns, and thatched huts. Paths zig-zagged everywhere, some of them laid with jewel encrusted stepping stones, most of them cut into the grass by repetition.
She took them to a barn first, where a group of young students had gathered, whispering to each other and repeatedly hushed by the woman who watched over them. Inside was a unicorn, grazing from a trough on the wall. Beside her, searching for milk, were two newborn golden foals—whinnying, stumbling, and headbutting their non-plussed mother.
"Hey do you remember-" Harry began, a smirk already tugging at his lips.
"Shut up. Just shut up." Voldemort tried for casual in the serpent tongue, ultimately making him sound more unhinged.
"…How's that cursed half-life going?" He said anyway.
"If you knew how often I imagine you flayed-" He stopped abruptly, winced and fell silent, his eyes wide and wild.
"I hate unicorns!" Nagini shouted, making the foals scatter and tumble in the stall.
Poliana quickly led them away, her six champions whispering furiously amongst themselves. She took them into the trees, where several small clearings had been created and fenced.
Within the first pen was a massive rhinoceros-like creature. Its swollen, glowing red horn seemed like it was emitting a great deal of heat.
'Erumpent. Get gored by that horn and explode into chunks,' Tom supplied.
Thestrals were in another pen, and three small girls were dragging a sack of meat through the gate, waving at the headmistress as they went.
"…The Horned Serpent?" The Dark Lord asked, as though he was requesting tea.
Poliana laughed, and it became high-pitched and wail-like. "Ah?"
Voldemort didn't answer her non-question. He blinked at her instead.
She turned to smack Davi in the chest. "Well. You understand Portuguese?"
He held both hands out as though the serpent should be placed there, still not answering her.
"It has been here a long time, but we confess we have been able to know little about it. It is too aggressive, too large…" She trailed off and gave the man beside her another sharp glance.
"Take us to it."
Harry and Nagini looked at each other, and he got the sense that the Dark Lord was throwing all the politics under the bus on account of the serpent.
"…Aright. Just to see. This is on you." She snarled the last part at Davi and he winced.
"We go alone," she shooed her students and grabbed Davi's arm when he tried to flee with them. "You wanted to know what the serpent would say, you will find it out with me." She snapped.
She brought them into a greenhouse, her hands shook as she disenchanted a number of locked doors, leading deep into the maze-like structure. The final room was a long and narrow space. Harry thought it almost looked like some sort of lab, if the lab had a deep, dark, sprawling Olympic swimming pool in the centre. Not a single ripple on the surface.
Voldemort approached first, Harry and Nagini directly after. The Dark Lord stopped his familiar from getting too close to the water's edge, and he seemed to be fighting the urge to push Harry in.
"Serpent. I am Lord Voldemort." He hissed it as loud as Parseltongue could be hissed.
"…And I'm Harry."
His fists clenched, but he continued to call and croon at the serpent; until the water bubbled, and a head the size of a small bus appeared horns first. It took him slightly longer to realise than it took the Dark Lord. Voldemort had gripped Harry's arm in shock and squeezed him, then shook him. "Look at the horns."
Harry did and found that one of them was missing two thin, narrow gouges.
"…Speak your name." The serpent boomed, reverberating off the white walls.
"…Tom Riddle," He flinched as he said it and shot Harry a warning look, swaying on his feet.
"Until I am part of your family, your family is doomed," it said.
"No way…?" Harry said.
"You knew Isolt? You're the Horned Serpent?"
Harry had never seen him so disarmed or so animated, struggling not to bounce on his heels like a child in a candy store.
"We have a female." He blurted at Poliana. He spun on her and flicked his hood back, mask off.
"Oh," Harry said, and Nagini squawked in shock.
Poliana and Davi blinked at Voldemort for a long time. So did Harry, noted his red cheeks, the way his lips twitched, how he danced foot to foot in anticipation, hands clenched tight.
"Your Biomagology and Magizooology programs would become legend if you took this species back from extinction." He continued, eyes on Poliana, approaching her with his arms behind his back, his desperate desire for the serpent squashed so that it was only visible in his manic eyes. "This serpent belongs to my blood. I will be taking him. It is a gesture of good faith that you receive two of his young and the acclaim."
Poliana seemed enchanted by him, blinking wide-eyed until she shook herself and repeated his words to Davi. He seemed offended.
"…With all due respect, he speaks to the serpent for a moment, and he claims it is his by blood?" He said.
The Dark Lord smiled, turned back to the serpent, and then waded into the water until he was up to his hips and within touching distance. "You are very nearly the last of your kind," he told him.
He opened his mouth wide in response, a hissing crackle in his throat, reverberating past teeth the length of Harry's arm.
"I will take you with me. To the place Isolt was born. There, there is a female."
The crackling became a rumble, and when the serpent closed his mouth, Voldemort touched his snout, his hand dwarfed by a single nostril.
"I will go with you, Tom Riddle."
"The serpent just said he's coming with us," Harry repeated, eyes glued to the image of the Dark Lord, waist-deep in black water, smiling at the otherworldly serpent as though it was his newborn son, held for the first time.
It had taken an amount of coaxing to get him out of the water. Though Voldemort was always overly prepared, he had not prepared to bring home a Horned Serpent, and other arrangements needed making. Though he didn't say it, he behaved as though he would never see the serpent again if he let him out of his sight. In the end, Poliana agreed to arrange transport for the serpent before they left, and the Dark Lord finally exited the pool, replaced his mask and hood and dried himself.
It was late afternoon when they emerged in the clearing. The drums filled the air again, though instead of a rhythmic, heart-like beat—meant to draw them in—it was music, joined by voices, the students dancing. Several fires were lit, roasting pigs on spits, and the glowing gold lights hovered above once more. Poliana and Davi left them to arrange transport for the serpent and told them to enjoy themselves while they were gone. The headmistress alerted several of her staff as she passed, and their eyes locked on Harry, the Dark Lord, and Nagini.
He was oozing satisfaction, and his smirk—though hidden—bled onto Harry's face.
"I always get what I want," Voldemort told him, and Harry laughed.
"No, you don't."
Nagini was dancing, so he sat on the grass to watch her. He was shocked when Voldemort did the same—human behaviour was rare in private, unheard of in public. He sat cross-legged on the grass anyway, a wholly bizarre picture.
"Uh-"
"I am thinking of taking her to see her family." He interrupted Harry.
"…What?"
"Nagini. Her family. Would that…" He trailed off, watching the students flock to his familiar as though she were a bright light and they were winged insects. "Would that be a good thing? For her?"
Harry sat dumbfounded for a moment, several shocks at once, and the feeling he couldn't name; that irritated him almost every time Voldemort spoke of Nagini, bubbled along with the reality of Voldemort asking for Harry's advice. That the Dark Lord seemed, on some level, aware of his emotional stuntedness, aware of the gaps in his education.
'You are jealous,' Tom told him.
'Of Nagini? No, I'm not. I love Nagini.' Though as soon as the feeling was named Harry knew it was true.
He doted on her, his other human Horcrux. Sought her family, spoke to her fondly…
"…If I had living relatives outside the Dursleys, I'd want to meet them." He spat the words. The Dark Lord ignored the tone and nodded.
Harry rolled his eyes and returned his attention to Nagini, charming the children like the Pied Piper. He summoned the translucent green snake that he'd used to impress the vampires and wound it around the Dark Lord's familiar, a ghostly Ouroboros, eating its tail. She spun within it and smiled at him—making the children giggle and squeal—and though he wanted to strangle Voldemort on the grass, he gave a smile back.
"Come with me. I have something to show you," the Dark Lord whispered, and Harry wasn't mad anymore, his stomach falling out.
He followed him toward the trees where they'd entered. The staff of Castelobruxo seemed torn between keeping their eyes on Harry and the Dark Lord or Nagini with their students. They entered the forest alone.
After two minutes of walking, Harry's nerves became an encompassing anxiety that Tom did nothing to soothe, which he figured confirmed his theory that whatever was happening, no one else was to see it.
"Is it a good idea to be out here after that whole Lethifold 'We don't know where it came from' stuff?" Harry asked when they stopped in a dim, pocketed clearing. He tried to sound more nonchalant than he felt.
The Dark Lord didn't face or answer him, wordlessly casting what Harry assumed were privacy wards. They shimmered until they settled, sending his heart racing. When he turned, the mask was gone. His cheeks were red, eyes hooded, grinning with a folded piece of parchment held between two fingers of his outstretched hand. "Read it." He swallowed, and his eyes got caught on Harry's neck, "Aloud."
He took it, and unfolded it with his good hand—already shaking the parchment noticeably. The nerves drew Voldemort in, predictably.
He didn't need to read a word to know who wrote it; the handwriting painfully familiar. Hermione. Harry glanced up to watch the Dark Lord's face, the smile twitching into a savage grin, one that seemed almost reserved for him.
Harry got the sense he wanted him to resist, to balk at it, to prove what he'd said on the beach had been Tom's words. So, he cleared his throat and read aloud, "To whoever reads this letter, I am Hermione Granger."
He smiled wider and got closer.
'…Parseltongue,' Tom thought.
"We are being held captive here, and I need you, or anyone, to get the message out." His heart was skipping beats. The Dark Lord was behind him, in his blind spot.
Tom didn't let him turn.
"Keep reading," he demanded.
His hands were held steady enough by Tom, heart trying to escape his chest like a frantic rabbit, made far worse when he felt Voldemort close the distance. Breath on the back of his neck.
"This is what I know for sure: There is something wrong with-" His words caught in his throat when the Dark Lord pulled him in. His arms locked tight around Harry's middle, pausing when he stopped reading, "-Something wrong with Harry Potter. I thought he was bewitched at first..."
His hands trailed, threatened to slip under buttons. Harry fought the noises that weren't words; the rules of the game the Dark Lord was playing were clear enough by then. A sick game of chicken.
"…Under a potion or a spell, when I saw him at the Ministry with Voldemort." One that he would play. One that, he figured, didn't matter if he won or lost. As long as he didn't plead. He leaned into Voldemort with his full weight, pushing as aggressively as he was pulled. "Then I saw his eyes when he took my magic, and it was him, not Voldemort, that took it; it was clear that he wasn't under any influence."
The Dark Lord bit into his neck, one hand lowered, hovering above the buttons on his pants while the other held him tight—had snaked between the fabric of his shirt, grazing skin, his hands too hot.
The words came out between pining whimpers. His hips hopelessly rocked, not allowed to move freely. "When we took Harry to try and understand what had gone wrong, Voldemort found him within days. We took every precaution and it somehow wasn't enough…"
The Dark Lord moaned into his neck as he undid the top button, caught the words in Harry's throat and made him still. His heart threatened to burst despite the fragments of contact, bliss burning down his neck and chest. Voldemort's hands stopped, and he bit down harder, making Harry yelp.
"Please tell the Order of the Phoenix, whoever is left, that whatever connection Harry and Voldemort share… It's powerful. It's stronger than it ever was…" He felt like the thought of someone else reading this letter should have infuriated him.
Instead, his cock was aching, the words on the page blurred, and he thrust up to meet nothing, breathing manually while Voldemort undid the first and second buttons.
He let go of Harry's neck to breathe into his ear, "…Read."
As soon as he opened his mouth, the Dark Lord freed his cock from his pants. "…Fuck. Haa. Fuck." The parchment shook in his hands like a sail in a storm. Tom corrected them to the best of his ability, coursing with adrenaline despite the contact. "When Harry looks at him-"
Voldemort gripped his cock, and it was nearly done in an instant; visceral pleasure mingled with a desire so powerful he didn't know how it was contained within him.
"-When Harry looks at him, I wonder all over again if he's somehow bewitched."
With every word, he was rewarded, making him speak faster as he was finally allowed to roll his hips. The Dark Lord moaned softly, repeatedly, directly in Harry's ear. He thought it was exactly like being bewitched. "…They're as mad and as dangerous as each other."
He felt like he was trapped on the precipice, the wild realness frying his brain, his cock squeezed tight in the Dark Lord's hand, rolling the tip between his forefinger and thumb faster with each word spoken. Unreal. Exquisite. "I don't understand what is happening here… But I am trying. I can't find a way out, we've been looking, and trying, but they watch us all the time, evenwhenwesleep-"
It was a bolt of lightning; electricity jolted him—screaming, then silent, blinded, undone.
"Tell me something else, Harry, how often do you revel in what you have become?" He hadn't let go, squeezed while he whimpered.
Harry couldn't answer.
(AN: Keep toeing the line and pretty soon you'll look down and there'll be nothin' in the sand. Voldemort recites a passage of 'The Quest of El Dorado', written by Juan de Castellanos (In the 16th century-ish yikes nobody says alien Indian anymore).)