Chapter Thirty-Six: The Negotiation
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Everything was black when he closed his eyes. Black light. Blacker shadows. Little black swirls everywhere. A moving, pulsing landscape of darkness always intent on building something new the longer he stared into it. Some shape. Some hall. Some archway. The light leaking behind his eyelids served as the binding between the building blocks of his mind. But when he glanced to the side, where Riddle had taken up residence, the blackness was perfect. Wholly dark, and smooth, and unbroken. Defiled, he supposed. Tainted by the horcrux that had settled in his mind.
The horcrux he had tried to destroy. To ignore. To lock away.
The horcrux that had, inexplicably, saved him.
[Why?] he asked, and Riddle glanced up from where he stood motionless in the darkness, as though asleep, and his dark eyes focused on Harry's.
[If you die, I die, Harry Potter,] he spoke in his familiar hiss. [How would that serve me?]
[Still, you saved me. You saved Ella.]
Riddle shrugged. [Rest assured, Harry. It is only my survival that matters to me. Not yours.]
He thought about opening his eyes. About blinking away the dark and grounding himself firmly in reality. In the small and empty room where Ella still lay sleeping and the silence stretched.
But he couldn't stand that quiet. The emptiness that had grown after the Healers stepped away, leaving them alone. After Ron had left, his words hanging heavy in the air.
"A Muggle accident," Ron had called it, quoting Robards. "No further involvement on our end."
Harry had glanced at his hands, saying nothing. Picking at the bits of dirt and blood beneath his fingernails that the scouring charms hadn't scoured away.
"But it's odd." Ron had insisted, frowning.
It was odd.
"Do those Muggle crane thingies collapse that often? And when it does, it nearly takes off your heads? Bit dodgy, isn't it? Robards should investigate."
Harry couldn't disagree.
But what could he expect Robards to investigate? Why, when collapsing Muggle construction equipment hardly seemed Rookwood's MO. Not that Voldemort could stake much claim in the matter either. Still, it wasn't as if Robards knew someone was out there, hounding for his life.
It wasn't as if he could tell Robards.
"Probably can't spare anyone," Harry had said finally, reaching up to rub his hands across his face until little stars appeared. "Besides, if someone was trying to do us in, I reckon they would've stuck around. Finished the job."
"I s'pose." Ron had leaned back against the wall, chewing over the idea.
Harry had chewed it over, too. It wasn't logical, really, for Rookwood or even Voldemort to be involved. It was purely accidental that he and Ella had chosen to walk down that alley. A split second decision. It didn't make sense.
Ron had waited a while after that, his light jokes and easy manner breaking up the heavy silence that hovered at the edges, waiting to descend again. But the minutes ticked by and Ella still lay sleeping, and eventually Ron, too, had left.
And then the silence was all that remained. That, and the endless swirling of his thoughts.
And he couldn't stand them. Couldn't stand the company of his own mind. So he stayed, as if Riddle's company was somehow better. Somehow less painful than staring at Ella's sleeping form and wondering if he were responsible.
So he kept his eyes tightly closed. Stayed in the darkness. Just him there, and Riddle, and the silence kept at bay.
[Either way, thanks for the warning,] he said grudgingly.
Riddle shrugged, his face expressionless. [Oh anytime, Harry. Consider. If you were to join me, you needn't fear death from such mundane nothings as collapsing cranes.]
Harry sighed, wondering if Riddle would ever tire of the question. Probably not. [I won't.]
[You're making a mistake.]
[I don't reckon so.]
[That is because you spend far too much time caring about irrelevant things that do not matter. If you did not, you would see the value of my offer.]
[Of what, murder?] Harry scoffed. [A Ministry coup? Perfecting my Crucio? So much for feeling what I feel, Tom. You can't really believe I'd want that.]
Riddle's eyes glittered. A growing trace of his arrogant, burning anger. [Just think of what I could offer you, Harry. Power. Control. Acceptance. I'm sure you remember the conversation you had with my… younger self,] Riddle said with a twisted smirk. [There are likenesses between us. I know how it feels to be raised by Muggles that loathe you. To crave that feeling of belonging that Hogwarts gave you, Harry. You were adored. Accepted. Loved. But look how the world has forgotten. How the Prophet mocks you now. They question your abilities. Together, we could rebuild this world. Reshape it in our favor.]
[You're wrong,] Harry said, shaking his head. [We're not alike at all. That speech might have made me doubt myself once, but it won't now.]
[No?] Riddle looked bored now.
[I don't need any of those things. I never wanted them.] The truth of it burned through him, infusing his words. [The only thing that matters is—]
[Ella.] Riddle drew out her name, twisting it like something vulgar, and Harry felt a coldness settle in his stomach.
[Of course, Harry. Don't think I am blind to the great romance of your miserable life. The star-crossed lovers. The golden couple. Your brilliant, Traveling wife. Ella,] he sneered, savoring the word. And Harry hated how her name sounded on Riddle's twisted lips. [That's why you're here, isn't it? It's Ella. The reason you're willing to withstand my company, which you loathe. It's all Ella.] He smiled his cold, cruel smile. [You can't face her.]
[That's crap. I'm happy to go anytime.]
[But you won't.] Riddle smirked, his voice growing cooler, more controlled, in contrast to Harry's rising anger. [You think I don't know you, Harry Potter? I live when you breathe. It's me or that silent hospital room, isn't it? And you can't stand that. Because the only thing you're apt at is blaming yourself. Overvaluing your importance.] He paused, an ugly smile stretching across his face. [Tell me, Harry. Is it easier? Picking a fight with me?
[Isn't that what you really wanted?]
Harry said nothing.
Riddle appraised him in the black, his dark eyes glittering despite the utter lack of light. Seemingly on the edge of another biting remark.
[There is no need for all of these… emotions,] he said finally, in a somewhat less mocking tone. [It's exhausting, being trapped in your worthless mind, Potter. The Healers already told you the girl is fine. Yet you lack patience. And you allow Ella to be your weakness. That's another mistake.]
[Nothing about Ella is a mistake,] Harry snapped, glancing away until black filled all his vision. [Or a weakness.]
[No? Your enemies will use her against you.]
[Like you?] Harry said scathingy, looking at Riddle once again.
[Certainly.] Riddle looked pleased that he'd caught on so quickly. [The piece of me that remains outside of here wouldn't hesitate to kill her. You would be wise to team up with me now, Harry. Once he understands how essential you are, he will spare you both.]
[Once he— so you don't know, do you?] He gasped, the realization dawning on him suddenly. The relief was overwhelming. His skin tingled with it. [You don't know what he thinks. And neither does he. You're not connected to him.]
Riddle looked furious, his face noticeably paler.
[You're not him.]
[Of course I am,] Riddle spat.
Harry said nothing, stepping back. His legs felt weak, shaky. But his heart was lighter. He wasn't a walking window for Voldemort to see though after all. [You might be keeping him alive, but you're nothing. You're just a shadow. A castaway.]
[Lies,] Riddle said, but his angry hiss of a voice betrayed him. He was furious. [We are all Voldemort, Harry. Don't misunderstand.]
[You may be a piece of Voldemort,] Harry goaded, [but he isn't a piece of you. You can't communicate. He doesn't even know you exist.]
[That's irrelevant,] Riddle hissed. [Once we are together—]
[Then what?] Harry pressed, stepping closer to Riddle. [What's your plan, Tom? Going to rule side by side? Advise him from the sidelines? Or are you hoping you'll… merge?]
Riddle's eyes glittered with something like malice.
[Can you even do that?] Harry asked softly. [Merge?]
[Perhaps it is you, Harry, who is hoping we will merge.] Riddle gave him a knowing look which all but sent Harry stumbling.
Merge. Get Riddle the bloody hell out of his mind. If he could do that, could reunite this lost fragment of soul with Voldemort… he wouldn't be a horcrux anymore. There was a tremor working its way up his arms. He would be free. Free to live.
Free to kill Voldemort.
[Yes,] Riddle said softly. [And I'd be free to kill you, Harry.]
[You'd be free to try.]
They stood there a moment, staring at each other in the seamless dark.
Free to try. He wasn't afraid to try. To face Voldemort in battle with the future unwritten and fight him to the bitter end. No. It was the looming senseless suicide that weighed on him. The certain death circling in the wings. And perhaps he could escape it, perhaps they'd find some way to save him, but if not… if not, he'd be leaving them to walk into that battle alone.
[A chance,] Riddle whispered, voicing his thoughts. [Oh Gryffindors. Always tripping over your morals and convictions. You would rather believe, Harry, is that it? Pin your hopes on a chance, throw your life away. All that, rather than stand with me at the top when I offer you the world.]
[Don't lie,] Harry breathed. [Offer me the world? You don't want to share it, Tom. You'd rather take it for yourself. You've been dying to kill me for years, so why don't you have a real go? Just you and me. No horcruxes. No Union. No one to die to save me. Don't tell me you're afraid.]
Riddle smiled widely, the whites of his teeth showing. [Don't do that, Harry Potter. Don't imagine you are sharp enough to cut me. It would be a relief to leave the confines of your pathetic guilt-sodden mind for my rightful place in my own body. But reunification is impossible.]
[Is it?] Harry pressed, refusing to be deterred now that the idea had rooted firmly in his mind. [What if it wasn't? If I found something, some way to do it… Would you go?]
Riddle appraised him for a long, long moment in the dark, his expression calculating. [Yes,] he hissed finally. [If you found a way to… merge us, I would be delighted, Harry, for the chance to destroy you. So there would be no doubts about which of us is stronger. And then upon your death, I will build the foundation of my new regime.]
He smiled, the smile wide and cruel, until his whole face lit up with its coldness. And then he began to laugh. The handsome features of his face twisting into something ugly. As ugly as his shattered soul. Harry opened his eyes, blinking away the dark and Riddle's malicious face.
Silence again, save for the shadow of Riddle's laughter still echoing in his ears. An arrangement he half-regretted already.
A mistake?
"Harry."
A wizard stood at the door, tall and cloaked, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood. Slowly, he removed it.
"Rob." Harry stumbled to his feet. "Are you all right? Ron said they're—"
"Suspending me, yeah." Robert stepped into the room and pulled the door closed behind him, his eyes downcast. "Until the disciplinary hearing."
"When?"
Robert shrugged. "I'm to wait for an owl."
Harry felt cold. Guilt again. "And then?"
"Then… then it might turn out that I'm not an Unspeakable anymore. They're not too pleased with me. Something about loyalty… and fabricated evidence." He let out a humorless laugh which was more a sigh than anything else.
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
Robert shook his hand. "Look, it wasn't your decision. It had to be done. I knew the risks."
"No. I shouldn't have let you go through with it." Another mistake. They just kept on making them.
Robert ignored that. "How's Ella?" he asked instead.
Harry shrugged, the weight resettling. "Sleeping. They said she'd be all right, but she's still…" His hands clenched tightly at his sides. "They reckon it's the chemo, you know? She needs more time to recover."
"That makes sense." Robert looked at him again. "She's overtaxed. Running all over the place. We all are. It makes sense, Harry."
"Yeah." Harry glanced away, silence falling again. "Thanks…" His voice was rough, breaking apart somewhere in his throat. He cleared it and tried again. "Thanks for coming, You should probably keep a low profile, though. Until this Saul stuff dies down. Listen, Robards isn't going to investigate your testimony. Not unless he's forced to. And we might still find a connection between Rookwood and Saul. They can't sack you if he's guilty."
"Sure, maybe." Robert glanced around the room again, as if confirming it was still empty, and withdrew a scroll of parchment from the folds of his cloak. "Harry, listen. That isn't why I'm here. This came earlier, right before the Prophet article broke. It's lucky, really. Another hour, and I might've missed it."
"What?" Harry looked at him blankly, his eyes sliding to the parchment. There was a crest on the broken wax seal, vaguely familiar. The outline of something. A wing. Something circular in the cracked center. He couldn't quite make out the words, except the one at the edge.
Fidelius.
He drew in a sharp breath.
"It's from Gringotts," Robert said quietly.
Harry's hands had clenched to fists again. There was a tightness in his chest. A tension. And beneath that, his heart beat in sudden manic rhythm. The sound seemed to swirl and echo in his ears.
Two heartbeats.
"Is that it, then?" a weak voice spoke suddenly.
Harry whirled to see Ella push herself up on the bed. She was squinting at them, seemingly struggling to get them into focus as she tugged the blankets aside.
"El!" he cried, hurrying toward her. The world was momentarily forgotten. The tightness in his chest a fading memory. "Merlin, you're awake." He breathed again. Hadn't realized he had stopped. Watching her lay there for hours in the silence, he'd really started to believe… had allowed himself to imagine…
She sat up, pushing against him to get purchase. Her touch was warm, and vibrant, and alive. "Is that it?" she repeated, refusing to be deterred. "Rob, is it…"
"Yes." Robert was smiling. "I know who's got the cup."