Cult Leader, KiNG MALA

Grim reaper lookin' for my cheerleaders
If it's between love and money, I'd rather have neither

So charmin', it's alarmin'
I'm hurting everybody that I know
Lead the masses from the ashes
I want power and I think it shows

I don't need your roses, I like men on their knees
Praying up to their god, seein' visions of me

I'm a cult leader, mind reader, heart eater
Fear feeder, say I'm your favorite preacher
If I wasn't a narcissist, I wouldn't like me either

He recollected Bed Sheet—the remarkable and strange creature greeting him like a dog at a front door—returning to his shoulders with nearly too much force at the sight of him.

It was late, and he had no idea where the Dark Lord was. He figured if he was going to sleep, Voldemort would find him. He wasn't sure if he would or wouldn't; his Horcrux's recent behaviour might have been enough to put the Dark Lord off looking at Harry's face. But on the other hand, Crux's constant cutting monologue was the alternative.

He decided it could have gone either way.

He wasn't escorted inside the castle, though the Death Eaters seemed torn on the issue, dancing foot to foot and looking at each other for guidance as he passed. He kept a steady jog to not give them too much time to think about it.

His legs took him automatically to the Room of Requirement, and as usual, he was undecided about how he felt about finding no one waiting for him.

He got as far as kicking his boots off and dislodging Bed Sheet to remove his cloak when he felt Reed's fish-hook-like mind searching for purchase. He sighed and sat down on the end of his bed, and figured if he wasn't sleeping, he might as well take advantage of his solitude and get the talk over with. Sure they had a thousand questions.

Once she'd pulled them in, Ginny was the first to 'speak'.

'Harry… What in Merlin's name is going on?'

Draco, Ruby, and Reed were the only ones there; seeing fewer of them at once was a relief.

'That's a long and loaded answer. How long do we have,' He could have laughed but didn't.

'A little easier with less of you in here,' Reed thought, 'An hour, maybe.'

'Why is he teaching you personally? You can't say it's because you're his… Horcrux, because he's known that for ages,' Ginny apparently decided to narrow down her question.

'Even that is complicated. It calms my Horcrux. I… Don't even know how much I can tell you. That's a lie, really, it doesn't calm my Horcrux, he's agreed to- actually, it's not important. He's quiet in the Dark Lord's head when I'm around; that's the part that matters. Voldemort needed… I dunno. An excuse. So, the excuse is I suck at magic and need to be re-taught.' Harry didn't think it necessary to say that he didn't feel like he was being taught much of anything, that Voldemort spent most of his time throwing a tantrum or willing Harry into non-existence.

'Why…'

He could see the gears ticking in Ginny's head.

'It seems like he… Your Horcrux, is really familiar with you. With both of you?' She looked at Tom.

'Because he is. He can move independently of him, to a degree,' Tom thought.

'Your Horcrux is—' Draco stopped and frowned.

'He unpredictable and dangerous. More than you know. More than he looks,' Tom thought.

'I mean, he looks pretty dangerous,' Draco thought.

'I kind of like him? He's like a bad guy from the horror films Nan likes to watch,' Ruby thought.

'Trust me, you've seen nothing. It's almost like he was being nice when he was here. That's as good as he literally ever gets,' Harry thought.

'Essentially,' Tom thought.

'What he said about me…' Ginny began.

'He does that. He finds a weakness, or he makes one up, and he just-'

'He was right.' She interrupted him. 'I've been thinking about all of it, and he was right. I don't understand what's happening here. And Charlie, I can't even think about… But Dumbledore? I… Get it. I didn't live through what he did to you, or where he put you, but I understand. And I've been behaving like I don't get it, like I haven't done crazy things to try and fix-'

'Gin.' Harry stopped her again, 'It's not like this hasn't been exactly that. Crazy.'

He didn't want to think about what she would think if she knew precisely how insane things had gotten. He was also anxious to forgive her, anxious for her to want his forgiveness. Anxious to be forgiven. So, he latched onto it.

'I didn't really think we'd ever be talking about…'

'Me murdering people?' Harry finished for her.

'…Oh my god, who did you murder?' Ruby wondered.

'What happened earlier? When you forced everyone inside? Kom Ombo?' It was apparently Draco's turn to lead the inquisition, ignoring Ruby.

'The prophecy. Pretty much. Apparently, there are loads of prophecies—' He had to pause, the bizarre meeting with Har-im-hotep and Cassiopeia stalling his words. 'We can assume Har knows the plan, right? He was talking like if we don't…' he'd directed the last part at Tom, stopped himself again when he realised he was in the wrong place to talk about it. Stopped himself when he realised he could hardly look at Tom, like staring into the sun.

But it had seemed like the Djinn definitely knew what Harry's ultimate goal was, had somehow tied it to the prophecies his seers had seen and the one they'd found at Uagadou. That if they didn't succeed, they'd somehow bring about the apocalypse. No pressure.

'What plan? What does Kom Ombo have to do with this?' Ginny asked.

'I don't know. Not really. He's here to talk to the Dark Lord; I know that much. He Disapparated instead. Har spoke about the prophecy at Uagadou, and talked a lot about his student's prophecies without telling us anything about them,' Harry thought, purposefully skipping any question related to his now insane plan to 'seduce' Voldemort.

Though it felt more like wrestling a shark with his hands tied behind his back than seduction.

Crux followed their mental threads as though he were a spider skittering along a web and slammed into Reed's head, demanding entrance.

'…Do I let him in?' Reed wondered.

Harry threw his arms in the air and laughed while Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded.

'Delinquent every time I turn my back,' Crux thought. He dragged Harry to the floor as he entered, forced him to sit cross-legged and sat down next to him, grinning shark-toothed at Tom.

'…Where was he all day?' Harry wondered, then balked at the look on Crux's face. Smug mocking.

'Were you guys talking about me?' Crux smirked as he scanned the void-like room, 'Bet you were. What I wanna talk about—as interesting as I am—is earlier tonight. Assuming you spoke with Har-im-hotep and Cassiopeia when Morty tweaked out and popped off? Yes—just by the look on your face.' Crux pointed at Tom. 'It's rude to talk about people behind their backs.'

'How come you don't look like Harry?' Ruby wondered. Though Reed was less focused with the addition of another, she grabbed at Ruby's arm.

'You've got good questions for an idiot. I don't know. I've thought about it, though. Do you wanna know what I think?'

Ruby nodded enthusiastically, and he decided he agreed with Tom. That she was demented.

Harry could have said a dozen choice words; instead, he thought, 'We're leaving.' He didn't want to talk about Har anymore. Or his Horcrux. Or the Dark Lord. Or the multitude of prophecies tagged with his name.

'No, we're not. I'll tell him to check the astronomy tower nooks and crannies for these weirdos. That's where you all are, right? Blackmail.' His grin was triumphant; Harry rolled his eyes for the millionth time.

'My theory is we appear how our hosts envision us. But maybe it's also got a bit to do with how we want to appear? Tom? Thoughts?'

'Sure. Why not. You are the new expert on the subject.'

'I'm picking up on your hostility. Both of you are so obnoxious. Rude. You should make her your Secret Keeper.' He pointed at Ginny, 'This one and this one,' then Draco, Ruby, 'Protected by the Vow. This one is protected by the Vow and her big brain,' Reed,'Weak link,' and then Ginny again.

Tom uncrossed his arms, stared at Ginny and Crux as though they'd sprouted a shared head, then laughed, shocked, '…That's a good idea.'

'Settle down; I've been known to have them. It's not for you. It's for me. You've got your magic back; wait till he feeds me next, and you've got hours to figure it out.'

'…When?' Harry wondered.

'Whenever the fuck I want, thanks to you, princess.' He grinned at Harry, then whispered in his ear, 'He begged me to stop today. He asked what it would take. To make me stop. Wanna know what I said, Harry?'

He felt like he could guess, but Crux told him anyway.

'I said, 'Nothing.''

'…You got your magic back?' Ginny asked, and Crux blocked her from approaching like a bodyguard, standing up and smiling at her, almost friendly. Harry knew better.

'Uh yeah.' He resisted the urge to think, 'Don't get too close to him,' figured it would have the same effect as getting too close to him. He got off the ground too, confused about why they'd been there to begin with.

'Uh, yeah,' Crux repeated, rolling his eyes, 'A new, handsomely collected and crafted stick of probably epic proportions.'

'Handsomely collected,' Harry muttered, scoffing.

'How else would he have done it,' Crux muttered back, frowning.

'It's a wand,' Harry thought, loud enough to be heard. 'Made from the Snakewood tree at Ilvermorny… And… Anyway, it works with my core.'

His face went involuntarily red each time he thought about the Snakewood tree. About Castelobruxo.

'…He gets a hard-on when he thinks about the tree moment, too. Makes him so mad that it didn't happen right there,' Crux hummed in his ear, and Harry stepped back.

'So. Har-im-hotep. And Cassiopeia. Huh?' Crux crossed his arms, turning on Tom, teeth bared.

Tom closed his eyes as though he was about to get an injection, 'Here?'

'Here? What's wrong with here?' He gestured at their audience.

'Har-im-hotep is here about the prophecy,' Tom paused, opened his eyes, 'Nagini told us what she knows of it.'

Crux cackled, folded in half. When he straightened, his eyes bulged, nose to nose with Tom in a shred of a second.

He didn't flinch, 'An inevitability.'

'What—did—she—say?' Harry's Horcrux demanded.

Tom stared at him, arms hanging loose at his sides, no expression.

'What did she say?' Crux demanded again.

'Har-im-hotep used a fish not only to understand Nagini's Parseltongue… But my French.'

Harry wasn't sure why exactly Tom was giving the warning.

'…I like him. Bit mad, but I like that.' Crux tapped his chin, distracted, then, 'What did she say?'

Tom switched to Parseltongue; Harry watched his hands clench, 'Four pieces whole or black is the forest and reaching is the horror's scream; all will suffer dawn. United or shadow devours the Earth, fire ever-burning in the night.'

Crux looked everywhere but them, counting on his fingers as he watched the metaphorical ceiling. When he responded, it was in English, and Harry wasn't surprised, 'So, you don't really know anything? Any guesses? Insights?'

Tom didn't answer.

'I mean, I have guesses,' Harry thought.

'Well fuck, don't withhold them; I have to know what you think, leg head.'

'…Tom,' Harry stepped closer to him and stopped himself. He knew that if he'd thought it, so had Tom.

'…Not here.' His tone was firm, and Crux laughed again.

'Yeah, alright, fine, but only because I need to see this meeting you had with Har before I fucking BURST.' He turned to face Ginny and the others, bowed like he was on a stage, 'I'll see you all around. You oughta watch yourselves in the hallways. Sometimes Morty can see you, but you can't see him.'

Crux yanked them back into their head and was straight into his memories. 'Is this all of it?'

'…Yes.'

'You hesitated.'

'I do not want you to see it,' Tom thought, squeezing Harry's eyes shut. 'Do you understand French.'

'A workable amount, what, do you think I'm stupid?'

Tom didn't respond.

He'd caught a glimpse of his enchanted ceiling and guessed it had to be past midnight, the moon beyond the middle of the sky.

Crux examined his recent memories, and to Harry's surprise and irritation, he laughed. 'Close call there, huh? Nearly fucked it all right up in a teapot. What was that other girl there for? The giggly one? Do you think? Is she a seer? Har never said. Did you notice Lydia did not react AT ALL when the Djinn called you Tom? Wow, the balls on Cassiopeia? Bet you're fucking SEETHING. Nothing you can do, though, really, right?' He cackled again, shrill. 'I like how easy it is to wreck you. I just have to set it and forget it. You're doing it all yourself? Speaking of, I wanna see it.'

Tom dragged him as though it were possible to hurt him—hurt the incorporeal, unfeeling fragment of soul in his head—into his private section while Harry scowled. The Dark Mark burned around a minute later, and he felt no urgency. More grumpy than anything else as he checked the Marauder's map, found the Dark Lord and Nagini outside his door, Draco, Reed, Ginny, Ruby, Avalon, Eris, and Pollux—though the latter three hadn't been in Reed's head—in the Astronomy Tower.

The only reason he stood to let Voldemort in was the invisibility cloak he assumed the Dark Lord was wearing—the fact that his friends would have to walk right by him to escape. That, and he was tired. Tired in the kind of way he figured sleep wouldn't help. Enticing anyway. Good enough. The bliss he felt on contact was the only thing sustaining his sanity.

Bed Sheet returned to his shoulders when he got up, and he figured it was a good thing; there was every chance he was about to be cursed.

Voldemort was under the cloak. His cloak. Nagini under it with him. When he removed it, he said nothing. He didn't look at Harry at all as he collapsed, fully clothed, into the second bed. Nagini joined him with wide eyes, quickly a serpent at the end of the bed.

"Don't speak. Just sleep. If I dream tonight, I will kill us all," The Dark Lord said.

Harry thought that was fair enough and that he wholeheartedly agreed. But, on the other hand, "…Did you eat?" He followed Voldemort's lead and fell into his bed.

The Dark Lord laughed, high-pitched and all over the place like he'd forgotten how to pace it. "No?" He said it as though Harry had asked whether he'd shoved a coconut up his ass.

"First thing in the morning, then?"

"Will you cease?"

"We have a deal," he said, then silenced himself with the Snakewood wand and extended his hand before the Dark Lord could object, cheeks flushing hot for an instant as though he hadn't had the day he'd had. He momentarily considered straddling the Dark Lord and demanding he beg—the audience of Bed Sheet and Nagini barely considered—before it was dismissed and washed out by warm bliss. Almost all of Tom's anxiety and Harry's Horcrux went with it once their hands were locked together.

As soon as Crux was gone, Tom was dutifully piling his memories of said day into the no-go zone, ready for any surprise early morning Legilimency. He watched with more curiosity than stress, though he knew he should feel it.

It felt like barely a moment later when the Dark Lord woke him, pacing and talking, lighting candelabras, still dark. Harry was too brain-fuzzed to register the words, only that he was being spoken to. He watched Voldemort's hair as he repeated the words and stopped to stare at him. The words sank in, but he was still confused, the meaning lost somewhere in the Dark Lord's mussed curls.

"…What?"

"Beige? I said, 'Why is it so beige in here?'"

"Uhh. I dunno. I just… Thought… Room?" Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up, registered the bottle Voldemort had summoned with his pacing. "I just wanted out of the Gryffindor tower."

He was backwards and forwards again, and the room redressed itself, the beige carpet giving way to dark polished wood, the moulded white walls freshly framed with deep grey curtains and matte-black paint. The skylight was removed, and Harry scoffed in indignation. The ceiling was still domed, adorned with a chandelier instead.

"I'm changing that back," Harry muttered, ignored.

The furniture stayed what and where it was, redressed in deep grey, green, and occasional gold.

"Just do whatever you want, I guess."

Voldemort sat down, pretended Harry didn't exist, and poured some kind of amber liquor into a tumbler glass.

Harry cast a Tempus, snaking green numbers a knee-jerk reaction, though he'd slept with the Snakewood wand in his hand. Almost five in the morning.

"You spoke with Har-im-hotep." It wasn't a question. He drank the first glass like it was water, replaced it.

Harry took a deep breath and summoned Kreacher, had to tell the elf to stop bowing while the Dark Lord watched Harry, increasingly bug-eyed as he drained his second glass.

"Breakfast. Bring… I don't know?"

"Kreacher knows just the things, Young Master Potter; you should want for nothing." He disappeared with a snap, and Harry exhaled.

"That's never not going to be weird."

"You—spoke—with—Har-im-hotep."

"He wants to speak with you, as far as I can tell." Harry stayed on his bed, counting Voldemort's drinks (third.) Wrapped in Bed Sheet—going some way in reassuring him—though Nagini remained asleep. Or she was pretending to be.

"You spoke with him," the Dark Lord said again.

Harry squirmed, sure it was going to be his fault somehow.

"They gave us no other option. You gave us no other option," Tom said.

"They?" Fourth.

"Cassiopeia. Of course, Cassiopeia. Lydia, too, I would wager."

Kreacher reappeared, bringing a small bounty of breakfast foods that barely fit on the mid-sized coffee table. Good quality bread included, and Harry figured the elf did know just the 'things'. He vanished again after several performative bows.

Voldemort maneuvered around the food to pour his sixth drink, and Harry figured if he was going to be murdered, it didn't matter if he was on the bed or in a seat; he was hungry, and there was bacon.

"What did he want with you."

Harry thought slamming back a quarter of a bottle before breakfast might fuel the Dark Lord's anger, but he seemed increasingly exhausted, almost slumping.

"You should eat breakfast."

"Shut up about breakfast and tell me what Har-im-hotep said to you." He switched to the serpent tongue and slid back into his seat, sipping instead of shotting his glass.

'What the hell am I supposed to say about Har?' Harry wondered.

"He wanted to hint about his student's prophecies. Dig for information," Tom said.

"…And did he find any?"

Tom laughed, though it quickly died in his throat. Harry figured it was as good a time as any to put bacon in his mouth. Between shocks of adrenaline that he didn't think were his. Though Voldemort's face and how his lips glistened in the firelight might have contributed somewhat.

"Eat," Harry pointed, and the Dark Lord moved almost absently to fill the empty plate before him.

His eyes bulged at the sight of it before Tom schooled his face.

"Did he find any," he wasn't impatient, though Harry was purposefully avoidant. Tired, cheeks and eyes sunken, ripping a piece of bread and glaring at it periodically.

"…That was some nightmare, huh?" His stomach filled with battery acid as soon as the words left his mouth.

Voldemort stared at him, not blinking, eyes widening, the vein in his forehead declaring him officially angry.

"I'm not discussing that with you." He leaned close, "unless you have something to do with it. In that case, I'm certain we'd have plenty to discuss."

"I'd be happy if I never saw my Horcrux again." He hoped it wasn't obvious that he was being vague.

"…What did the Djinn learn."

Crux was allowed into his head, and Tom tried to move him into privacy immediately. He resisted.

'That's not a very nice thing to say,' Crux thought. 'So I figured I'd make sure you saw me again. Fuckhole. Tell him Nagini told Har like half the fucking prophecy and watch his face melt off. Maybe the snake will stop pretending she's asleep.'

"Not discussing that with you," Harry said, Parseltongue easier than English, not getting caught in his throat. "Eat," he said when the Dark Lord didn't leap out of his armchair to strangle him.

Instead, he reached into his robe pocket and removed a potion, uncorked and drained it.

"What's that?" Harry asked, apparently inflicting pain as he did.

'It's to stop him from starving to death. Gets them from Lydia. Do you think the vampire told Lydia that you're Morty's little bitch? That's why she had zero reaction? Or do you think she just thought for some reason Har thinks your name is Tom Riddle?' Crux thought when Voldemort didn't answer.

'…I don't know,' Harry thought, exasperated by constantly being talked at from all angles. 'Who fucking cares at this point.'

'Right on.'

'Go away?'

'You fucking go away,' Crux thought, though he did leave, leaking out of Harry's head like a sullen child on a school morning.

"Stand up," Voldemort did as he'd commanded, dragged Harry to his feet when he didn't immediately stand, getting better at avoiding Bed Sheet—hand deftly up and under to yank him by the scruff of his shirt, "Nagini."

She moved when he bid her, but she didn't transform, trailing after them instead—after Harry struggled his boots on and the Dark Lord had replaced his mask and hood.

As usual, he had no idea where they were going or why. "You didn't eat enough." He added mentally, 'And you reek of whiskey.'