Travel Log 4: Tibet, Qonggyai, to China, Beijing
December 1999 to January 2000
Summer had long given way to autumn and was now beginning to give way to winter as their little group continued their journey across the world. November was an odd mix of different climates as they made their way from Western to Southern Asia.
By the time they reached the Tibetan plateau it was already late December. The locals all assured them the weather would remain dry with clear days, though a bit chilly – so they should dress warm and not forget sun protection.
"Can an undead still get sunburns?" Harry asked curiously.
Draco merely gave him a shrug while Tom grumbled, "Better not risk it."
Theodore chuckled. "A sunburned undead for Yule, can you imagine?"
"Oh," Harry realised, "it will be Christmas soon."
"Will the Weasleys expect you back?"
Harry shook his head. "We knew it would be unlikely. I still need to prepare presents, though."
"Ah, well, you can always get them some nice, traditional funeral regalia," Theodore joked, "as it seems we will celebrate our Christmas surrounded by foreign burial mounds." He paused. "But let us hope this Valley of the Kings won't turn into a debacle like the last one did."
Harry hung his head. "You know I didn't mean to."
They hadn't even managed to forever trap Tom in one of the pyramids.
Their visit to Luxor had started out great – really, really great – and then quickly turned into a disaster, because Harry may or may not have accidentally raised a mummy from the dead and gotten them banned from every pyramid in all of Egypt, as well as every museum exhibiting a mummy. To be fair, he had only accidentally reanimated it and not actually raised some old pharaoh from the dead, but the point remained. It was only thanks to Harry and Theodore's battle-honed reflexes that they managed to escape unscathed.
Thank Merlin they had gone to Cairo's Grand Museum first – which had been a simple geographical decision, but still. So many mummies that had remained perfectly motionless and dead.
At least back when they had visited the Capuchin Crypt in Rome no one had been around to hear all the skulls rattle their teeth and neither Jerusalem's Mount of Olives nor Naqsh-e Rostam in Persia – no, in Iran as Theodore kept correcting him – had any body remains on public display.
Harry was almost convinced he was cursed. He couldn't even blame it on Tom's presence, because Tom hadn't been with them yet when they had travelled Italy.
Theodore patted Harry's head. "I know. Though it would be nice not having to worry about such things."
Harry snatched the offending hand from his head and held it between his own. "We both know you could have very well stopped what was happening before things escalated."
"Me?" Theodore gasped theatrically. "But Harry, you are the Master of Death and I'm just a mere amateur necromancer. I could never!"
Harry's lips twitched traitorously. "Fine, fine. We will simply have to be careful, then."
"As lovely as this is," Tom's voice interrupted, "I would appreciate it if we could move on and find a place to set up camp."
"Oh?" Harry turned to the unwanted addition of their group. "Tom Riddle wants to set up camp? I thought you wanted us to find an actual hotel for once?"
Tom pointedly looked around the vast, empty space around them, a few small huts barely visible in the distance. "I doubt the locals have anything to offer that's even remotely comfortable."
"How rude of you."
Tom arched an eyebrow. "Do you suddenly wish to mingle?"
Despite having now access to translation magic, Harry and Theodore had actively avoided interacting with people as much as possible during the entire – Merlin, it had already been over half a year.
"Don't worry. I remain comfortable in my newfound antisocial tendencies," Harry replied.
Two necromancers and two undead. What a group they made.
(One not suited for a whole lot of human interaction, clearly.)
He gave the huts in the distance a critical look. "Our goal should be just on the other side of that mountain ridge. I think we can make it before nightfall and then see about finding some nicely sheltered place."
"As long as it's not inside a tomb again," Tom grumbled as they began to walk towards the village.
"Tombs are nice."
"That they are," Theodore agreed, falling in step next to Harry, his hand naturally finding Harry's.
Draco, as usually, remained silent.
"You are both delusional."
Harry threw Tom a smirk. "But it would fit your entire image so well, Tom."
The former Dark Lord raised his chin and sniffed. "You must be confused, my dear Harry. Desiring immortality does not equal desiring to be surrounded by dead things, no matter how ancient."
Harry tilted his head. "What are your thoughts on necromancy, anyway? I never thought to ask."
He almost missed the flash of pain crossing Tom's face.
"That is none of your business."
"So snappish. Did I hit a nerve to make you lose your smug, silver tongue?" Harry dropped his grin and calmly continued before Tom could turn this into a fight, "I genuinely want to know, though. Is necromancy not ultimately intrinsically linked to the search for immortality?"
"It is." Tom averted his eyes, looking into the distance in contemplation, though Harry thought he could detect something haunted in that gaze. "But necromancers always guard their knowledge so very carefully – you might never know you met one if you don't know what to look out for."
It wasn't really an answer to Harry's question, but it did make him wonder.
Had Voldemort once met a necromancer, after all?
Technically, Sephoneia had only confirmed that no Totengräber nor Lémure had ever told the Dark Lord about their practices.
Death did not particularly like Voldemort, despite all evidence currently suggesting otherwise. He could have never become a necromancer, even if he had overcome his fear of death and dying and begun to pay Death the respect He was due.
Harry burned to ask, to probe further – but something in Tom's expression held him back.
In the end, it didn't matter. Not anymore. Harry had already killed Voldemort and the undead walking beside them now was no longer the same person, would never be the same person again.
They reached the Valley of the Kings barely after sunset and found a nicely intact ruin to set up camp. Tom never helped, but Draco had proven to be of valuable assistance in putting up the tent while Harry or Theodore took care of the magical protections.
Harry didn't know what Draco and Tom did to entertain themselves during the night, but Harry and Theodore usually retired to spend some time in quiet privacy, reading books or working on little projects.
"I never asked," Harry began that evening, the conversation with Tom still playing through his head, "why did you want to learn necromancy, originally?"
Theodore looked at him curiously. "It was Lynea's suggestion."
"So you didn't actually –?"
"I did," Theodore said quietly. "And for much the same reasons you did, I imagine."
Harry frowned. "In the hopes of learning different ways to defeat Voldemort?"
"In the hopes of finding my place in the world."
Oh.
That – Harry had never looked at it that way. But it – It sounded right. It may not have been his original motivation, but it had become what drove him to continue down the path of necromancy along the way.
When he had first considered accepting Professor Totengräber's offer of learning the Forbidden Arts, he had not at all expected what that actually entailed. Back then, he could have never imagined even in his wildest dreams what necromancy truly was about – not raising the dead and desecrating graves, but paying respect to the dead in all aspects of life.
"I miss it a bit," Harry confessed. "The old days – when Sephoneia showed us the wonders of necromancy."
Theodore shuffled closer to lean fully against Harry's side, entwining their hands. "I miss it, too."
o
They found themselves in Xi'an around new year's, actually staying in a hotel for once – not because of Tom's incessant demands, but because Ron and Hermione were using the holidays to meet up with them and it was easier to rent three double rooms than figure out how to divide the tent between the six of them.
Having already had more than enough time to freak out when Harry had first written about the Voldemort-shaped addition to his group, his two friends restrained themselves to wary looks and put the matter out of their minds the moment Tom retired to his room with Draco in tow.
"It's weird being back at school, mate," Ron said. "A two-year break really is no joke. And have the kids always been that tiny? At least we're not the only people who missed their final year – Dean, Justin and Kevin are back, too. All the younger muggleborns are facing the same weirdness, I imagine."
"Kevin?"
"Entwhistle. Ravenclaw. Don't think we ever spoke to him before."
"It did feel odd at first," Hermione said, "but there is so much to do, you hardly notice after a while."
Ron snorted. "Don't think I will ever stop noticing the empty, dead eyes of half the staff greeting me every day."
Harry frowned. "I thought Neville wanted to take care of that?"
"He is." Ron shrugged. "It's apparently kind of complicated."
"I imagine finding appropriate replacements for the teachers cannot be easy," Hermione agreed.
Ron and Hermione gave them more in-depth updates about the situation in Britain and what all their friends had been up to during the past seven months. The stories about Rhea, Neville and Blaise's latest insanities were certainly the most fascinating.
("And Merlin save us all," Ron said with a haunted look in his eyes, "Blaise told us Luna is considering whether to join them."
"'Blaise'?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.
Ron shrugged. "Mate, what can I say? We spent so much time together before Mione and I returned to Hogwarts and he's writing half of the letters Nev and Rhea send us. Calling him by his last name just turned awkward after a certain point.")
They celebrated the turn of the year – and with it, the turn of a millennium – in a city that followed the traditions of a different calendar system. Having never really celebrated New Year's Eve before, Harry didn't mind it being a quiet affair. The four of them exchanged late Christmas presents and opened the bottles of butterbeer and firewhisky Ron had brought and just enjoyed their time together.
Harry woke up the next day with his cheek pressed into a warm body, surrounded by the smell of honey and thyme and the tea Theodore liked to drink, gentle fingers slowly stroking his hair. It couldn't have been pleasant for Theodore to have Harry's weight sprawled on top of him like this, but Harry was too comfortable to move, further leaning into Theodore's caressing hand instead, a content hum rising in his throat.
He could feel Theodore's quiet laughter rumble in the chest he was pressed to.
"We do need to get up, you know," he whispered.
Harry made some noncommittal sound.
"Our friends are already getting ready to explore the city."
"But you're cosy," Harry groused, pressing closer. "Can't even show them the tombs. They wouldn't appreciate them."
"I'm sure Qin Shi Huang's mausoleum wouldn't be amiss. I can't imagine Hermione not appreciating such an interesting relic of the past as the terracotta army."
Harry hummed.
He got a poke in the ribs in return. "Go and spend time with your friends."
"Our friends."
"Yes."
With a weary sigh, Harry finally dragged himself into a sitting position. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of Theodore looking up at him with his hair a mess and sleep shirt rumpled, before finally moving to wash up and get dressed.
When they eventually emerged from their room, Hermione gave them a knowing look while Ron only complained being hungry. Tom, bastard that he was, wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and asked whether he might join next time in a manner Harry would have never expected from Voldemort of all people, had he not already spent six months in the man's infuriatingly smug presence. Draco merely sighed and didn't comment.
Honestly, what was going on these people's heads? All they had done was enjoy a good night's sleep.
At least Tom dropped the matter after one glare from Harry and they could go on with their day.
Exploring the city like a proper tourist felt weird. It wasn't that Harry and Theodore and their undead companions had never explored the bustling cities they had travelled though before. They simply had always been focused more on specific sites, ruins of ancient tombs more often than not, and mingled only to ask for directions or buy food and other necessities.
Harry had never really felt like a tourist up until now. He wasn't sure whether he liked it.
But Ron and Hermione were having fun and that was all that mattered.
The time to say goodbye again came all too soon and the two disappeared less than a week after they had arrived with many hugs and a legally acquired portkey. (Hermione's pointed look when she had retrieved the thing had almost made Harry laugh at her.)
And then it was quiet once more.
"How awfully lovely," Tom commented dryly. "Now, where to next? How about Beijing? I heard they have some nice royal tombs we can visit."
"Oh, Tom," Harry grasped his chest. "It warms my heart to hear you are finally embracing the true purpose of this journey."
His lips quirked upwards when he heard Theodore snort somewhere behind him.
Tom rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately for me, I don't have much of a choice, do I?"
"No, you don't," Harry told him cheerfully. "Beijing it is."
AN
I might not be able to update for a bit, my computer is dead.
