Baby Boy, Mother Mother
The devil, he's at my door
And I know what he came here for
The kind of fun that I adore
I let him enter to make some more
Fire, it burns my skin
But I still want to play with it, like a
Shark fin in the swim
I cut myself and jump on in
There's a red-light up ahead
I drive my car into it
I'm a little kid with a big death wish
I bite the lips, the lips that kiss
He woke up too early and watched the map in the dark. It was two in the morning, and in the partly obscured moonlight, he watched Cassiopeia vanish off the edge of the map. Before Harry could wonder aloud if she was meeting the Dark Lord, Tom entered Voldemort's head.
Nagini held the back of his neck, barely conscious while he waited. When Cassiopeia entered the sitting room the Maledictus let him think but didn't give him much wiggle room.
"Oh, wonderful, sitting here seething with rage for 'no reason' again?"
"Just…" He gestured vaguely.
"Fine… The healer is settled in. Just now. Shit is hitting the fuck out of the fan with your silly idea that we might somehow simultaneously out the Boy Who Lived as your newest, shiniest Death Eater and keep it under wraps for Enos. The Granger girl is telling people now. I've intercepted over a dozen letters to the Order, all saying the same thing. Then hundreds more from students out into the world to whoever, Tom. Most of my time is spent intercepting and reading letters. So, if you want this to be any surprise, you'll need to speed things up. Here's a fun twist: Ginny Weasley is asleep in the Room of Requirement with Golden Boy as we speak. She hasn't left for days."
Nagini relaxed her grip slightly, then readjusted.
"I will… See what I can do. I would prefer… Azkaban first."
"You're in a fit state for that, I see," she glared at him. No longer concerned, she'd switched to anger at his lack of forthcomingness and her lack of deduction.
"It… Would not be tonight."
"Oh, and he blew up the library. With the Weasley, at Granger. Destroyed some… School property. Scared the shit outta some kids. Thought you'd be pleased with that."
"Fine. I will let you know when plans… Are made."
"Fine? Fine. You do that; I'll keep playing lieutenant general; you continue sitting down and gripping your temples," she snapped at him and stalked out.
"Hermione's told people," Harry said, then remembered that Ginny was in the room and switched to inside his head, '…And she's trying to tell everyone…'
'An inevitability.'
Harry frowned at that but continued to question, 'And… Enos? What's Enos?'
'I have never heard of it.'
'…And what are you actually thinking about?' Harry finally thought.
'…About your Horcrux. The Dark Lord is at the end of his will. He will not… Cope much longer. We should tell Cassiopeia.'
'Tell Cassiopeia? Tell her?! Tell her what? That he's…'
'Yes. It is past time she knew. The only reason he would not have told her is…'
'…Is?'
'…He is going to do something stupid.'
Harry figured that if anyone knew whether the Dark Lord was at the end of his rope, it was Tom, and his concern was always contagious when it came to Voldemort: 'Alright. We'll talk to her.'
After the confrontation with Hermione, Seamus, and Lavender, Tom insisted that they resumed their classes and learn to live with it. Harry was less invested in the idea, but there was no way to get the cat back in the bag, so while Ginny got herself ready for classes in his bathroom, he did the same.
"Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" He asked her what felt like the hundredth time that morning once they were ready to leave.
"I'll stick with Neville and Luna when I can. Luna still adores you and Neville; well, he adores her. I think it should be mostly… I hope it's fine."
"…If you need to, come back here, I'll see you on the map; I'll keep checking it."
"Alright, Harry," she smiled at him as she opened the doors, and he felt guilty that he hadn't told her that everyone knew about his mark, or at least that they had heavy suspicions.
He wasn't ready to discuss how easily he got into Voldemort's head or why. It was still too surreal to comprehend, let alone say to her. He let her go and stood watching the closed doors.
'Care of Magical Creatures first,' Tom thought.
'I don't want to do this.'
'I know. Open the door.'
Harry's hands shook as he pushed them open. He gripped his bag tight enough to turn his knuckles white as he powered down the corridor. No one was around, but classes were about to start. He'd see someone any second.
He skidded to a stop when he nearly head-butted Goyle as he rounded a corner.
"See, I told you he'd come out! Didn't I? Blaise?" Pansy exclaimed, repeatedly hitting Zabini on the arm.
"You've got Care?" Malfoy asked, making the Boy Who Lived squint.
"I- Yeah, I've got Care?"
"So do we. Walk with us," the blonde said, nose in the air and extended his hand to shake Harry's.
'What… What is happening right now? Don't I have Care of Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs?'
'You… Did,' Tom thought.
Harry stared at Malfoy's arm for another split second before he took it. Draco shook his hand, grinning.
'That wasn't some symbolic Death Eater thing, was it? Should we be walking with the Slytherins?' Harry wondered, nervous but strangely glad to see them.
"No, it was a handshake. Would you prefer to walk alone?'
'…No, but people will…'
'They assume you have a Dark Mark, Harry. Walking with them is like throwing a lit match on a forest fire.'
'…Yeah, okay, good point.'
He walked with Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Zabini, and Draco, feeling insane. They passed several students as they went while Pansy filled the silence, chattering as though it were a regular day, occasionally asking Harry mundane questions while Draco smirked. No one said anything to Harry about his mark while they made their way to the lawn, inside or outside the group, and he imagined that was a privilege that came with walking to class in a relatively sized group of young Death Eaters.
They sat down on the grass outside the hut, and Harry's stomach rolled at the thought of Hagrid, of the hostages. The hostages that he didn't have the power to help…
"So, you've got a Dark Mark, then?" Zabini asked.
"Blaise!" Pansy slapped his arm and looked around.
Harry supposed it was wishful thinking to hope that no one would ever ask, or that he'd get a grace period. There was a wide berth between where they sat and the nearest group of waiting students, and there were still around fifteen minutes until the class began. Harry frowned, tore his eyes from Zabini, and looked at the treeline instead.
"Marks like you all have?" Harry bit back after he'd fixed his face.
"Yeah, except he never uses them? Mine's literally never burned. Have any of yours? Blaise? Draco? Vincent? Greg?" She looked at each of them, and they all shook their heads no, except Draco, who remained still.
"It's not that weird, I suppose. He's got loads of followers now. What are we gonna do?" She sighed and cracked her neck, squinting at the sun, "So, do you have one? Everyone is wondering."
"He's still under a Vow, Pansy," Draco sounded annoyed. Harry was glad they still assumed he couldn't say anything.
"Somebody else could lift his sleeve-"
As Zabini spoke, Tom shot the curse like a spear at the Slytherin, stopping nanometres from his face.
"I could lift your skin off right here, and there would be no repercussions," Tom snarled, voice low, though the students gathered for the class were all looking, whispering, possibly listening.
Harry reeled it back in, red in the face. To their surprise, Zabini stayed seated, considerably paler.
"…Sorry," Harry mumbled.
"I retract my apology," Tom snapped immediately, and everyone frowned.
Crabbe was sweating bullets, and Harry tried again to apologise to at least him, but Tom stopped him again.
'Are you going to say 'so sorry' after every altercation because I am warning you now, I will not tolerate it. Are you weak?' Tom hissed in his head.
Harry's cheeks flushed, and immediately, he was fighting off the thought of what was said about his face, neck, and ears. He could feel Tom's amusement; he was allowed to feel it.
"Alright, children, over here, into the forest," someone behind Harry called, and he twisted in time to see the man with curly brown hair retreat into the trees. The students who had been standing were already following him. Avalon and Eris were among them, and he'd wondered if they'd seen him nearly impale Zabini.
'You really should… Do something about your anger issues,' Harry thought as he stood up.
He saw Hermione with the rest of the Gryffindors crossing the lawn toward them, so he brushed off the grass and raced after the professor, the Slytherins behind him.
'My anger issues? I am perfectly calm.'
They stopped in a clearing not far in at all, where a new medium-sized greenhouse had been constructed. Though it was new, it looked old; the dark green metal frame was rusting and covered in vines, and the glass was dusted with dirt and grime from what seemed like a decade of unuse. No one seemed shocked to see it, so Harry assumed it was only new to him.
"Today, we've received a delivery of birds. I thought it would be an opportune time to show them to you as they are homed. Remember, one at a time, do not repeat the shoving episode; you will all get inside," Rookwood said, glaring at the group, who had begun to whisper, some students bouncing on their heels, "Single file, please."
Instantly, there was a commotion as everyone struggled to be first in line, leaving a confused Harry to take the final position, thankfully behind Pansy, who seemed to be there on purpose.
"Have you seen the Vivarium yet?" she asked him, and he shook his head. "Oh, you're gonna love this." She turned around to crane her neck at the glasshouse, shuffling forward as they went one by one inside it.
"Bloody could have made a bigger door," Rookwood muttered as he motioned the students in.
Harry stepped inside and was blinded by the direct morning sun, no longer obstructed by trees. He focused, and his jaw dropped. They stood on a steep cliff face with a sheer drop overlooking the sea, a forest opposite them, and Tom realised first that they recognised the beach, the cave in the distance.
'He made… He made this,' Harry thought, astonished, 'Why would he make this? Wouldn't you… Don't you hate this place?'
'No, I liked it here. I came back here often. In that cave, I… Hid a Horcrux. It is no longer there…'
'Is this the actual beach?' Harry asked, heart pounding as it always did when Tom gave more than he asked for.
'No. A copy.'
He stumbled away from the group, class and conversation forgotten as he registered the Hippogriff soaring over the water, unmistakably…
"Buckbeak!" He shouted, and the Hippogriff shrieked and changed course, racing toward him, wings and assorted legs frantic.
He kicked up dirt as he landed with force, chirruping, forcing his massive head into Harry's chest, "I can't- I can't believe…"
Rookwood had approached them, a safe distance away, with the students mostly glaring at the Boy Who Lived behind him.
"Huh, well, you might be just what we need to get this stubborn oaf to meet his new lady friend, Potter," Rookwood said, gesturing at Buckbeak.
"His… What? I'm what?"
"We'll discuss it after class. I do aim to release birds if you'll stop with your spectacle."
Buckbeak had shown apparent distaste at the sight of Rookwood, and when it was clear he wasn't going to stop talking, he left Harry, diving off the cliff face and squawking as he resumed circling over the water.
"Alright, here," Rookwood said as the students formed a circle around him. Harry tore his eyes away from Buckbeak and came to stand next to Pansy, avoiding Hermione's, Seamus', and Lavender's obvious, violent stares.
The professor set two tiny crates that he'd pulled from inside his robes and enlarged one until it was big enough to fit four people comfortably inside.
"No worries about limb loss with these first ones," he said.
Behind the bars were six grey, almost vulture-like birds with large black eyes and beaks, shaking their wings in alarm.
"These are…?" Rookwood said, pointing at the group until someone put their hand up.
"Augureys," Draco said from behind him.
"Good, and they're known for?"
"They sing. When someone's about to die," the Slytherin answered.
"Mm, people say they sing when someone is about to die, yes…" He released the birds, and they flew away in silence. Harry noticed that he could no longer see Buckbeak.
He shrank down the first cage and enlarged the second one, leaving it the size of a shoebox. Then he summoned a shield around them and himself and said, "Now these will tear your arms off," as he opened the cage.
From within came four small birds with serpentine bodies, iridescent blue-green feathers that resembled scales covering their length, vibrant purple wings midway down their long backs, and two long legs not unlike a stork's holding them upright. As they watched, the birds increased in size, pecking at each other's heads, and growing until they were nearly fifteen feet tall.
"Occamies," Tom said.
"Yes, Occamies. Both birds have quite a negative reputation, the Augurey being a portent of death, and the Occamy: ill-tempered, violent, serpentine, gigantic, but capable of shrinking to the size of a thumbtack to lay eggs in your pantry… But it is not often said that Augureys only sing when it is about to rain," he summoned storm clouds overhead, and there was a shrill, mournful song in the distance, repeated six times over until he cancelled the spell "Not when someone is about to die."
"Occamies mate for life. They lay eggs of pure, soft silver, which they defend with everything they have. They are social animals that form life-long relationships, living in groups of up to twenty. They are loyal and fiercely protective creatures."
The birds in question were moving toward the tree line, chattering at each other. The smallest behaving bizarrely, dancing, wobbling on its lanky legs, and making a warbling noise as it essentially silly-walked into the forest.
"Make no mistake; you do not want to be caught near an Occamy nest. If you die in here, legitimately, no one will care," Rookwood said casually.
He continued to describe the birds and their natures until he excused everyone but Harry.
"Professor?" Tom asked, taking the lead with no prompting.
"The Hippogriff, Buckbeak, you called it?"
"He's…" Harry had been about to say 'mine', but he wasn't sure if that would help or hinder the animal. He had no idea if they knew.
"Yeah, he's Buckbeak," he finished.
"…Alright, and he's yours? I've been trying to get him settled in here, but he's hardly landed, so far as I can tell. They brought in a female Hippogriff a few days back, but she won't come out of her crate, and he won't come down, so…"
"…What is this place?" Harry asked.
Rookwood blinked at him for a moment, tugging on the end of his greying beard. "It's not obvious? It's a sanctuary. He's called it a Vivarium. It's a breeding and rehabilitation program. Extremely unregulated, the magical animal trade. Many species go extinct for the sake of potions. Most of these were illegally obtained, real easy," he started walking as he talked.
Harry still couldn't see Buckbeak as Rookwood led him into the trees. Three men he'd never seen before sat on stumps and played cards next to a large wooden cage. He couldn't see properly inside it but could see black feathers through the holes and hear her breathing.
"They're here in case of anyone getting ideas. By now, a few endangered and desirable beasts are milling about here. This is where you can find her; it's a shame your Buckbeak didn't stick around. If you returned here when you've got time and introduced them, you'd be doing me a favour. Though I hear you're… Quite busy?" His eyes flicked to Harry's left arm, a smirk growing on his face. He wondered why until Tom told him that was where the mark should have been.
"Uhh. Sure. I've got classes," he said, fleeing for the door.
He met Ginny at the Great Hall for lunch after a predictably uncomfortable charms lesson with the Ravenclaws, during which Seamus called him a Death Eater outright. It was with monumental effort that they didn't decapitate him or anyone else by accident or on purpose. Rosier had shouted loud enough to make the whole class flinch when the chattering got loud enough, and thankfully—though tense—it was significant event-free.
She'd sat down with him before she whispered, "I didn't know everyone knew."
"It's alright. It's not your fault."
"Yeah. It's still…" She looked around at all the faces glaring at them and lowered her gaze to the table.
"Don't duck your head. Don't show them weakness," Harry said automatically before he frowned at the words.
'…Good,' Tom crooned in his mind, making him uncomfortable on purpose.
Again, his neck, face, and ears flushed, and he tried to hide it with buttered toast while he straightened his back.
'…Better.'
'Would you stop it?'
'Stop what?'
'…Whatever you're doing.'
'…Sure, Harry.'
Ginny had straightened her back, too, both she and Harry scowling. Luna sat across from them, smiling, breathless, hair wild and full of leaves. "Don't you just love the Vivarium? If you ask nicely, Professor Rookwood will let you stay. He says he doesn't care if you die, but I reckon he would."
Neville sat down with her, pale, watching him.
"How are you, Harry? Everyone is being unfair," Luna asked him.
"Uhhh," he tried to respond.
'…Worse,' Tom thought.
'What is wrong with you?'
'Lackluster upbringing.'
Harry brought his juice to his face and snorted into it at Tom's response, splashing it out onto the table and his toast.
"Uhhh," he said again while Ginny cleared the mess, "I'm great, Luna."
"I thought you looked great. Didn't I say so, Neville?"
"She did- she did say you looked like you were doing great…" Neville's brow was furrowed as he muttered a reply, not meeting Harry's eyes.
"…Great," Harry finally said, feeling awkward, juiceless, and toastless.
"It's a shame that you aren't friends with Hermione anymore. She looks furious about it," Luna said, looking down the length of the table, "Was it something to do with what happened with Voldemort?"
"Uhhh."
'Unparalleled grace.'
'Fuck off, Riddle.'
"Yeah, yeah, I guess so," he finally said, not looking at either of them or down the length of the table.