Chapter 9
Harry Potter sat in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, a frustrated grimace etched across his youthful features. The new term had commenced over a week ago, yet the persistent whispers surrounding him had only intensified. His once unruly black hair, now sleek and obsidian, glistened under the candlelight, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion. His green eyes, usually filled with mischief and determination, held a hint of exasperation.
The rumors had started soon after the summer break, when Harry returned to Hogwarts looking remarkably different. Gone was the scrawny, bespectacled boy of previous years. In his place stood a lean, young man with a chiseled jawline and a commanding presence. The change had been so drastic that some students had initially struggled to recognize him.
At first, the murmurs had been hushed speculations, shared in hushed tones between friends. However, as the days passed, the whispers grew louder and more audacious. Some students had even gone so far as to accuse Harry of practicing ritualistic magic, their imaginations running wild with tales of dark rituals and forbidden secrets. They would all likely have a heart attack if they knew the truth.
Harry understood the curiosity that surrounded him. After all, the transformation he had undergone was undeniable. Yet, he found the constant speculation and scrutiny deeply unsettling. He had never been one to seek attention, preferring instead to keep his head down and focus on his studies. Now, it seemed, he had become the subject of Hogwarts's latest gossip once again.
That morning, it had begun as soon as he sat down in the hall for breakfast. He could hear a group of fourth-year Ravenclaw girls, led by Cho Chang, whispering about his new appearance, and he tried not to flush when one giggled saying that they liked the mysterious new appearance.
Clenching his knife and fork harder than necessary Harry stabbed at his breakfast aggressively and thought of what Tom had written him the night before.
Initially, Harry had been instructed to check out a book on Dementors, but after a visit to the library, he had determined that there was already quite a long list of Ravenclaws that had beaten him to the request. He had been tempted to confound the current owner of the book, and convince them they lost it, but the risk didn't quite outweigh the reward. Instead, he had written to Flourish and Blotts using Hedwig, and had received the book by the end of the week.
In the quiet solitude of his room, a teenage boy with an unquenchable thirst for knowledge embarked on a weekend-long odyssey, immersing himself in the limited information he could find on dementors. It seemed the jailors of Azkaban were particularly elusive and shrouded in mystery.
Fact and fiction intertwined when it came to dementors. While their chilling effects on those who succumbed to their ghastly kiss were undeniable, the origins and nature of these creatures remained a subject of intense speculation. Some whispered tales of their emergence from the depths of forgotten nightmares, while others believed they were remnants of ancient, malevolent entities. The teen's fascination with dementors grew as he delved deeper into the labyrinthine depths of their history. With each passing hour, his understanding of dementors plateaued, and it seemed that there were not many facts left to uncover.
Despite reading the book thoroughly, Harry's knowledge of the facts remained limited. When he revealed this to Tom, the man responded, "Now you can comprehend the scarcity of information I had when I embarked on my quest to vanquish and enslave their kind."
Initially, the teen had been puzzled by this, but the next message made Harry quite nervous, 'Meet me in the Chamber of Secrets on Monday night. Wear your father's cloak, and do not let anyone get in your way.'
The prospect of encountering Tom in the Chamber of Secrets once more filled Harry with a profound sense of trepidation. He was acutely aware of the dire consequences that would befall him if he were to be caught venturing into the concealed chamber. While Professor Dumbledore had seemingly accepted Harry's explanation and believed his innocence, Harry couldn't shake the nagging suspicion that a shred of doubt lingered in the wise headmaster's mind.
This doubt, like a dormant seed, could potentially transform into incriminating evidence should Harry's covert activities be discovered. The stakes were simply too high for Harry to risk being apprehended. However, amidst this turmoil of emotions, Harry found solace in the unwavering reliability of his invisibility cloak. It was his most trusted ally, capable of rendering him completely invisible, even to the keen magical perception of Tom. The young Dark Lord, with his burgeoning power, might well have developed his own means of achieving invisibility, otherwise, Harry suspected he would have coveted it immensely, seeking to possess it for his nefarious purposes.
In spite of his attempts to blend in, the weight of his guilt became increasingly burdensome. The whispers of lies from students had once been effortless to dismiss, even scoffed at. However, the truth had now spread, yet the individuals who mattered most remained unconvinced. Even if they held suspicions, they refrained from confronting him, leaving him in a state of uneasy anticipation.
In his first week of classes, the young Slytherin, Harry, demonstrated remarkable progress, particularly in areas involving practical application of magic. His talent was evident, drawing attention from even the less perceptive students. This budding proficiency would inevitably catch the eye of Dumbledore, and it was already apparent that Snape had taken notice, his beady eyes constantly fixated on Harry.
Harry had done his best to avoid the gaze of his head of house, but he knew the first time they locked eyes, which seemed inevitable, Snape would know that he had been practicing the Mind Arts. This would be their first sign that something had truly changed about the 3rd year student over the holidays, and Harry only hoped they didn't dig too deeply.
At the breakfast table, his gaze swept across the room, noticing that Malfoy's loyal followers kept stealing glances in his direction. However, they were not the only ones. Daphne Greengrass had been eyeing him suspiciously since the first day, but he chose to ignore them all. Another who seemed to have developed a sudden interest in him was Blaise Zabini. During a few classes where they were paired together, he could almost hear the question the young teen longed to ask. However, each time, Harry simply shook his head and continued with their work, refusing to address the unspoken query.
Emerging from lunch, Harry knew it was time to get a move on with his day. His stomach felt satisfied, but his mind was already racing ahead, anticipating the boring afternoon that lay before him.
As Harry rose from his seat, he engaged autopilot mode, allowing his well-honed Hogwarts routine to guide him through the corridors. He had a double potions period looming over him, a subject that had always been the driest form of magic in his opinion. After that, he would have to endure an hour of History of Magic, a class that seemed to consist mostly of endless dates and names to memorize. Finally, he would wrap up the day with Herbology, a class that was usually enjoyable but could be quite taxing on his patience, especially when dealing with stubborn venomous Tentacula plants.
A heavy sigh escaped Harry's lips as he considered the challenges that awaited him. He knew that he should not slack off or daydream during any of these classes, as each one was essential for his education and his future as a wizard. With a determined nod, he quickened his pace, eager to get to Potions and start chipping away at the mountain of busy work that lay ahead.
Despite practicing Occlumency, Harry's impatience grew as the day seemed to crawl by. Boredom filled his lessons, but the prospect of learning something unique and obscure, possibly unknown to anyone else at Hogwarts or beyond, quickened his heart as he anticipated the after-hours meeting with his mentor.
As midnight passed, Harry stealthily donned his father's cloak and ventured towards the castle's second floor. At this late hour, only the ghosts seemed to roam the corridors, as even the portraits appeared to be slumbering peacefully.
Harry felt fortunate to have been accustomed to the dark since his early days. From his earliest memories confined to a cupboard, darkness had been his unwavering ally. For most, navigating the castle in this obscurity would have been daunting, but Harry navigated it with effortless grace. Upon reaching the girls' bathroom, he kept his cloak on and softly hissed in parseltongue, triggering the entrance to reveal itself.
Harry had half expected an appearance from Moaning Myrtle, but luck appeared to be on his side as there were no signs of the deranged ghost. When the sink split Harry's heart was practically in his throat. The last time he had entered the Chamber of Secrets there was a moment that he was almost certain he would never see the light of day again. When he was at the mercy of Tom Riddle it seemed like he would be taking his last breaths, but instead, he rose from the chambers, terrified, but renewed. He just had not known it at the time.
Going down the stairs, descending in the darkness, felt like a bad case of deja-vu. He could hardly say that he went forth confidently knowing that Slytheirn's heir was there to greet him peacefully, but nonetheless, he made the journey. Stepping over massive snake skins he attempted to re-affirm his resolve. He also knew with certainty that Tom would not tolerate cowardice in this situation, which gave him the necessary strength to continue on into the Chamber.
With apprehension, he glared at the barrier that denied him entry to the chamber he observed. He couldn't help but wonder what fate awaited him. When the door slid open, an intense heat engulfed him. Stepping into the chamber, he encountered a massive, fiery serpent. Its size rivaled that of the formidable basilisk. In the center of the room, where Harry had once fought his mentor for his life, stood Tom, his countenance etched with unwavering focus. With relentless determination, Tom unleashed torrents of fire from his wand. When he ceased, he raised his wand like a conductor, summoning the flames to surge toward him.
In horror, Harry watched as the white-hot fire came searing toward Tom. The flames danced and flickered, casting an eerie glow upon the surroundings. Tom, however, stood tall and unyielding, his eyes fixed upon the approaching inferno. There was no fear in his gaze, only a steely determination.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he witnessed Tom's unwavering resolve. He had never seen such courage in the face of such danger. As the fire drew closer, Harry's mind raced, trying to comprehend how Tom could remain so calm and collected.
But Tom was no ordinary man. His mentor had faced countless trials and tribulations throughout his life. This was just another obstacle in his path, and he was determined to overcome it.
As the fire enveloped Tom, Harry braced himself for something extraordinary, and to his astonishment, Tom remained unharmed. The flames danced around him, but they could not touch him. Harry realized that Tom possessed an extraordinary power, something that mere mortals dreamed of.
Suddenly, Tom raised his hand, and the fire obeyed his command. The flames parted, revealing Tom standing unscathed in their midst. He was like a dark phoenix rising from the ashes, stronger and more resilient than ever before.
Harry stared in wonder as Tom emerged from the fire. He had witnessed something truly remarkable, something that would stay with him for the rest of his life. This was a man who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
A sense of awe washed over Harry. He had always been fascinated by magic, but this was something else entirely. He could feel the raw, untamed energy radiating from the fire, and he knew that if he could control it, he would possess a weapon of unimaginable power.
I want that. Harry thought in awe. The power to control something so ferocious. Harry could feel the dark magic leaking from the fire, whatever it was, it was not simply spouts of flames. It was raw, and untamed, the air seemed to crackle with magic around it. The ground seemed to tremble under Harry's feat, and this told him the flames were cursed in some way.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest as he stared at the fire before him. He had never seen flames like these before. The fire was a deep, dark red, and it seemed to dance and writhe as if it were alive. The air around it was thick with magic, and the ground beneath Harry's feet trembled slightly. He knew instinctively that these flames were different, that they held a power he had never encountered before.
Harry could only imagine the damage this type of fire could cause. Even from a distance, the heat seems unbearable. It felt like it was beginning to sear his skin, and fill his lungs with acrid smoke. Yet amidst the chaos, there was a perverse sense of exhilaration, a thrill that came from wielding such destructive power. Each wave of Tom's wand seemed to direct the fiery beast, guiding it with a mixture of awe and domination.
Harry could only imagine that the slightest misstep could spell your doom. The flames danced and roared, and Tom seemed to be in a deadly sway with the fire. His eyes however flicked towards Harry, and with a roar of exertion Tom ripped it aside, lowering his wand objectively, and Harry watched as the flames began to dissipate.
When the flames were clear Tom smiled in triumph, before turning to his apprentice, "Good evening, Harry. Or is it a good morning at this hour?"
Harry didn't answer the inquiry. Instead, he walked towards the man slack jawed, and asked the first question that came to his mind, "What was that?"
"The Cursed Flames." Tom said with a hint of reverence in his tone, "It is a spell of ultimate control and power. A spell that was designed to reduce any enemy population to zero. Fiendfyre."
Swallowing hard, Harry could only imagine how powerful Tom must feel in that moment, because Harry could only feel tiny in comparison, "It was amazing to watch, master."
"One day I will teach it to you." Tom promised, "When you are older, and in ultimate control over your magic. It is a battle of wills when you summon these flames. The loss of control would cost you, and any allies around you their lives. There are few in the world that could hope to stop it once the caster is in control."
Harry had heard the stories of Lord Voldemort's power. He had heard how he was one of the most feared dark wizards of the last century. Now however his mouth was dry at the site of the man's might. He could understand the fear of his enemies. Seeing a demonstration of the man's power was an example of why so many had bent their knee to the Heir of Slytherin. He was in awe of what the man had conjured, and even after the flames had been dispelled he could feel the magical saturation of his creation. This was what real power looked like.
"Now tonight we aren't here to learn and study the cursed flames. Instead, I am going to teach you a spell that is entrenched in the Dark Arts." Tom said with a small sinister smile on his face.
Striding to stand in front of Harry he turned to face the boy with his hands casually behind his back, "This spell may not rival fiendfyre in power, but it is very powerful nonetheless. One that cannot only harm dementors, but horrifically kill your enemies. It is my magnum opus of spell creation from my youth. One that cemented very powerful allies to my cause."
Harry could feel his magic hum in anticipation, and subconsciously his wand had gone to his hand. He was overzealous to learn the spell, and the way he hung on to his mentor's every word made the man smirk.
"I have already taught you the incantation," Tom said in a soft voice stepping closer to Harry, "but now I will teach you the spell's true power."
With a turn of his back, Tom held out the wand that once belonged to Ginny Weasley and he flicked his arm in an outward motion, "Mortis Umbra!"
As the lights in the Chamber of Secrets dimmed, darkness enveloped the room like a thick, suffocating fog. A chilling sensation crept into Harry's bones, contrasting starkly with the inspirational power he had felt from the Cursed Flames, symbols of Fiendfyre. Now, with every movement of his eyes, Harry sensed the presence of death.
In a sudden turn of events, a shadowy tendril lashed out, ensnaring Harry's wrist that lacked his wand. It jerked downward, as if he was being chained. Panic-stricken, Harry cried out and attempted to retaliate with his wand, but another tendril swiftly seized his wand wrist, yanking it down.
"Tom? What is this?" Harry asked with fear in his voice.
"The spells power." The man said simply, "Do not worry, Harry, you will not be harmed. Just relax."
In a desperate attempt to survey his surroundings and observe the activities of the gathered shadows, Harry found himself hindered. Suddenly, a cold hand gripped the back of his neck, compelling him to face Tom. Simultaneously, a forceful blow struck the back of his knee, causing him to stumble forward. As he tried to regain his balance, another force exerted pressure on his shoulders, pushing him down to a single knee.
Overwhelmed by a sense of panic, tears streamed down Harry's face. Confusion clouded his mind as fear and desperation surged through him. The struggle to breathe became unbearable, and a sob threatened to escape. However, before he could give in to his emotions, the overwhelming feelings dissipated, leaving him in a state of bewilderment.
As the horrid feeling gradually subsided, Harry took deep breaths. Lying on his back, he stared at the Chamber's ceiling, gasping for air. It was worse than being held under the Cruciatus Curse. Granted, Harry had only experienced the curse for a moment, but the indescribable pain was somehow surpassed by the feeling that all hope was lost and that death was encroaching upon him.
"Are you alright, Harry?" Tom asked with a tone that Harry didn't recognize.
The world was still spinning, but Harry swallowed hard, as if he had not had water in days, and found the strength to sit up. Looking at Tom in disbelief Harry asked in a soft voice, "Why did you do that?"
"To teach a lesson." Tom said firmly, "A hard one, but it will help you. I would not have done so out of pleasure. You needed to feel what the spell could do to a human. Death's Shadow burns the creatures of the night, the darkest creatures known to Wizard-kind. This spell is essentially what a dementor's kiss would feel like. If I hadn't released it, the pain would have only increased exponentially."
Still trying to reign in his breathing, Harry asked quietly, "How did you create this spell? How did you know what the kiss would feel like?"
Raising back to his feet Tom sighed, "Hundreds if not thousands of hours of studying. I found a lot of my research in Slytherin's personal library. There were many books left behind, and as one of the old Potions professor's favorites, I was given unlimited access to the restricted section. I once told you that Hogwart's collection of books was world-class, and I delved into the deepest corners of it. I read firsthand accounts of Unspeakables, and even those who had survived close encounters with the Dementors. I had hopes of using their power from the time I learned of them at your age. When I created this spell it was a powerful weapon to use against my enemies, and created new allies."
From the depths of his robes, Tom extracted two diminutive vials, extending them towards Harry. "Don't say I never did anything for you," he remarked. "These vials hold the power to reverse the spell's effects and restore your strength. You will require it for the upcoming endeavor."
Carefully Harry took the vial with shaking hands. One of the vials looked like a pepper-up potion that Harry had seen in his classes since his first year, while the other was a dark sinister red. Taking the red potion first, he felt a fire in his lungs that spread to his whole body in seconds. The cold chill dissipated with the help of the potion, and when his mentor encouraged him to take the second potion his strength began to return instantly.
Taking a deep breath Harry shuddered one last time, and then watched in shock as Tom offered a hand to help him back to his feet. Gratefully the younger teen accepted the help, and Tom put a strong hand on his shoulder, and clenched it in a way that nearly hurt, "I will push you harder than anyone else ever has. In our time together I may even hurt you, but you are my apprentice. I assure you that no lasting harm will befall you during my teachings. Trust in me. I promised to make you great. I promised to give you the strength to make those who wronged you, bow before you. I will continue to uphold my promises. You will give me everything you have, and then I will take more, because that is how I will keep my promise."
Harry felt his stomach clench, but he nodded gratefully, "I understand…master."
Tom clapped his shoulder strongly, and moved away, "Good. Now let's work through this, because this lesson does not just apply to this spell we are working on, but to many different branches of magic. When I taught you this spell as a gateway to the Dark Arts you quite successfully managed to replicate what the feeling is when in the presence of a dementor. Now what do you think the difference between the version of the spell you did is vs the version of the spell I did?"
Harry didn't even have to think about it as he answered what he thought was a simple question, "The power of the caster."
"No." Tom said simply, then sharply replied with, "When I ask a question I expect you to give it more thought. Now try again."
Harry's eyebrows furrowed as he considered his words. If the incantation was the same, then why else could the spells be so impossibly different? The power of the caster had to play some kind of factor? Trying to gauge some sort of reaction from his mentor he asked, "You taught me that most magic is about intent. I however have learned that the Patronus charm is based on emotion. When I cast the spell against the dementor the first time I was just trying to replicate the feeling they were making me feel, but as I became angrier I wanted them to suffer, but that wasn't enough to harm them. Is it the same concept? Is it about the emotion I feel when I cast the spell?"
Grinning now Tom nodded his head, "Precisely. I too studied the Patronus charm in an attempt to find my answers, and it was through my studies that I evolved this curse. The Patronus charm requires joy, and not just your ability to feel it. You need to truly feel the power of the light, and happiness. You need to experience your most positive emotions in live time, and then push them into your spell. For Mortis Umbra, you need to do the opposite."
Tom walked a half circle around Harry till he was behind the teen and whispered, "You will need to reach into the darkest depths of your heart to create what I have Harry. Find the most horrible moments of your childhood, and use them to guide your strength. Not only will you need to reach down in there, but you will need to pull it back up with you. You will need to experience the horror, the pain, the fear, and then release it on your enemies. That is partly why I made you experience the spell personally. To teach you what it would take. Reliving and recreating memories like those come at a price. If you are strong enough to pay it you will wreak devastation to those that would harm you."
Harry considered his mentor's words, and began to search through his mind. There were dark moments, but he wasn't so certain he could create what Tom had. He was not sure he was ready to go to such horrible places.
"You've been rejected all your life, Harry." Tom said fiercely, "The other children hated you, and punished you because you were unworthy…a freak! If you had them at wand point now, what would you do to them? Would you forgive them like the old fool wants? Or would you make them suffer?"
Harry gripped his wand a little harder now, and fetched onto the anger he felt at Tom's words, "Mortis Umbra."
It was nothing like what Tom had cast. The spell may have been more powerful than what he had used on the dementor, but it was nothing in comparison to the Dark Lords. He had said the spell wasn't about power. Why could he not do this?
"Your own classmates detest you. You have not got a single friend in the entire school. They mutter about you behind your back. Attacked you when you were weak and defenseless. You are not defenseless now, are you? I am not wasting my time on a little boy, am I?"
"Mortis Umbra!" Harry shouted, and the effect was instantaneous. Darkness descended upon the room, and the shadows grew thicker. While it still fell short of Tom's abilities, the spell successfully conjured shadows. Humanoid creatures started to materialize around the room, and a sinister cackling echoed from somewhere behind him.
"Control it, Harry." Tom commanded, "You are better than all of them, you are my apprentice, just make them feel what you did!"
In a burst of fury, Harry's mind flashed back to various instances of mistreatment. He vividly recalled Dudley's relentless kicks as he lay on the ground, surrounded by laughter. The memory of his uncle Vernon's harsh blow on his birthday still stung. He remembered the ganging up by Marcus Flint and the older Slytherins during his first year at Hogwarts. The pain from those experiences was still palpable. With a flick of his wand, the spell was unleashed, fueled by the intensity of his emotions.
As the cold and destructive force of his spell tore the chamber apart before him, a triumphant roar filled Harry's ears. Despair and power surged through his veins. "Pull it back now, Harry. End the spell," Tom yelled urgently.
As Harry delved deeper into his memories, he found himself engulfed by the tumultuous emotions of the past. The accusations and suspicions that had once plagued him at Hogwarts resurfaced, stirring up feelings of anger and resentment. He could vividly recall the frustration of being labeled the "Heir of Slytherin," a title that carried with it the weight of suspicion and mistrust. The injustice he felt gnawed at his core, and he could almost taste the bitterness of betrayal.
The memories enveloped him like a suffocating fog, transporting him back to the dark days when his every move was scrutinized and his character questioned. He relived the whispers and stares, the isolation and loneliness that had become his constant companions. The pain of being misunderstood and wrongfully accused was palpable, and the rage that had once burned brightly within him flared up once more.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest, and his fists clenched as he struggled to reconcile the past with the present. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, as if he was reliving those harrowing moments all over again. The memories were too vivid, too real, and they threatened to consume him entirely.
In the midst of this emotional turmoil, Harry yearned for solace and understanding. He longed to confide in someone, to share the burden of his memories and seek guidance. But the weight of his past seemed insurmountable, and he feared that no one could truly grasp the depth of his pain.
As the memories continued to flood his mind, Harry knew he had to confront them head-on. He couldn't allow them to control him or define his present. With a heavy sigh, he resolved to embrace his past, to learn from it, and to move forward with newfound resilience and determination.
The spell continued to grow as if it was spiraling out of control, and Harry suddenly began to feel the pressure as if the dementor was once again upon him. He could hardly even register the world around him, but Tom's voice spoke into his mind, "Let the past die. Kill it if you have to. That's the only way you are meant to become…who you are meant to be!"
Snapping his wand in a downward spiral Harry broke the connection from the spell gasping for breath and Tom clapped his hands together one time immediately, "Well done, Harry! Well done."
Hunching over his knees Harry blinked back the tears of all the horrible memories that had flashed through his mind. He refused however to let them fall in the face of his triumph, "I almost lost control."
"You did lose control." Tom said pointedly, "But you stole it back. That's what matters."
"Would it have destroyed a dementor? Hurt one?" Harry asked through his lost breath.
"I'm not sure if it would've killed them, but in my prime, I theorized the spell had that capability," Tom stated solemnly. "Controlling the shadows long enough to consume the beasts was key. Initially, the spell had limitations, but through practice, I surpassed them. When I enslaved the dementors, I may have killed a few as an example. However, I cannot recall for certain."
These words seemed to trouble and frustrate Tom. Harry knew it would not be wise to push the topic. Instead, he took a seat right there on the chamber floor in exhaustion. Tom for his part merely conjured a chair and took a seat across from him, "Do not attempt the spell again without me. This will need some delicate practice. If you lose control I will wrestle it back under my command."
"Yes, master." Harry promised, not really looking forward to casting it again, but knowing he was successful did cause a little optimism. Looking to change the topic as he rested Harry asked, "How did you get in the castle anyways?"
"I delved into the secrets of the castle more than any before me." Tom boasted, "Mostly in search of the Chamber, but I discovered many secret passageways in and out of the school. I picked one that dropped me off just outside the second-floor bathrooms, and disguised myself perfectly as I entered the chamber."
"I can imagine that was quite risky." Harry said with a sigh.
"This troubles you?" Tom asked with furrowed brows.
"I was just hoping that perhaps the Chamber was here before Hogwarts had the anti-apparition wards put in place. I thought it would be easier for us to continue our training if that was the case." Harry explained.
"I am thrilled you are tackling your studies with such enthusiasm, but I fear we will have to work with the limited time we have, when we have it. I will not enter Hogwarts too often, because it is not time for me to be discovered. The more my power grows, the easier Dumbledore will detect me, invisible or not." Tom said, expounding on his reasoning.
"I understand, master." Harry said dutifully.
"It would be wise to find some training partners. Some that are closer to your skill level, and even lesser for your own growth and confidence." Tom advised.
A storm of emotions brewed inside Harry at the suggestion. Tom knew he had no allies inside the castle, and was not sure why the young Dark Lord had even suggested the idea. As if reading his mind Tom sighed, "You must begin to gather some allies, Harry. The world is going to stand against you, and while there are those of us, like you and I, who can stand above the rest, it is best not to do it alone. We cannot be all-knowing, or be everywhere at once. There is a reason I commanded so many followers in my prime. I began that journey at Hogwarts. You need to begin doing the same."
Harry's eyebrows knitted together, "Why didn't we speak of this over the holidays?"
Shrugging Tom shook his head, "I didn't think you were ready. I still don't. However, I want you to have a year head start on me. You will after all have me guiding you, so I fully expect your skills to rival mine in comparison when you are in your final year at Hogwarts, to when I was Headboy. Start building connections now, and you will thank me later for it."
Harry was obviously not sold on the idea, so Tom shook his head and tried a different approach, "You know of my goals. I wish for the wizarding kind to come out of hiding. To take their rightful place in society at the top of the food chain. There are billions of muggles out there that would rather die than allow that to happen. No matter how superior our power is, we cannot fight this many alone."
"Sounds like a blood bath." Harry whispered, "Some will fight to the last man, woman or child."
Tom placed a hand on Harry's shoulder speaking directly to the teen now, "To build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down, and that makes enemies. Those people that call you dirty because you got the guts to stick your hands in the mud. Those are the ones that will stand in our way. The ones we will have to extinguish first."
"I understand, master. You have given me a lot to think about." Harry said with a released breath.
Tom nodded in satisfaction, "As my apprentice, I will set many challenges for you. Not all of them will be magical in nature. Consider this one of those challenges. Imagine how we can accomplish my goals, and make you the greatest wizard possible, at the same time. That is how we will keep each other happy, and on the same side. Forever."
The way the man said forever sent a chill down Harry's spine. He had no intention of following Tom's path to immortality, but their blood pact was binding. For as long as Harry lived he would be subservient to the man in a way. If it made him great, however, he would continue on the path.
"You should get some rest, Harry." Tom consoled, "I know how draining this type of spellwork can be. There are some books I brought you from Gaunt Manor. They are enchanted to look like some of your textbooks, and will help you with truly understanding dementors on a deeper level. If you are discovered, say you purchased them from Borgin and Burkes, but do your best to guard them carefully."
Nodding gratefully Harry offered the man a slight bow of his head. Turning his back on the man he wished him a goodnight, and Tom merely dipped his head in return. As he began to exit the chamber Tom called out to him one last time, "Harry."
As Harry faced the young Dark Lord, whose short, dark, wavy hair caught his attention, he cast an inquiring gaze back at Tom, who asserted his position with an air of finality, "We are strong enough to have it all. We cannot be too weak to take it."
(A/N) A couple of good movie quotes in this chapter. Let's see how many you can spot! If you want to read through Chapter 12 today you can do it for free on my Discord channel, The Hunters Lounge, while also getting an extra free update next week.
If you follow me on Pat(reon) for 1$ at OrionB15 you can read through chapter 17! That's all for today, see you in two weeks!