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SS Chapter 10: Mortal Yearning
🕑 Added 2024-09-07 04:17:20 +0000 UTCX. Mortal Yearning
Crack.
Cold air was replaced with a sea of foliage. Harry panted heavily, his feet grinding into the dirt.
Tom has the stone.
It was pointless. It could be anywhere - under a rock in Albania, or perhaps lost at sea -
“FUCK!” Harry swore. A wave of hot magic escaped him. Thunder cackled overhead, and a thin wave of air pushed down the surrounding trees, “Filthy fucking fuck -”
He jabbed his wand into the air, his eyes glowing a sickly green. Lightning slammed into the earth, leaving behind a crater the size of a car. Harry seethed.
Pointless.
“No,” Harry muttered, stirring almost drunkenly. A hand reached absentmindedly for his scar, “No, no, no . . . it doesn’t have to be.”
Tom’s prideful. He would hide it somewhere meaningful. Somewhere important.
But that could still be a plethora of places. Harry grit his teeth in anger, shrinking his Firebolt down to the size of a thumbtack before tucking it into his pocket.
I want that stone.
He stalked through the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest and back toward Hogwarts castle, his mind racing with possibilities. A faint blur of scarlet hair and circular glasses flickered before his mind. Discomfort settled in Harry’s chest.
He walked through the forest for quite some time. Harry was by no means in any rush; he had nowhere to be - barring the Hospital Wing, of course. Since he was in no mood to return, Harry resolved to grace himself with a more leisurely sort of stroll. Golden rays appeared above the trees as his eyes finally found the haphazardly-placed stone that could only be Hagrid’s hut. Harry stepped toward it, brushing dirt and grime from the ends of his robes.
“Tempus.”
Ghostly numbers appeared before him. It was breakfast time.
Grumble.
“Shut up,” Harry mumbled irritably as his stomach ached. He set off in the direction of the Great Hall, “I’m in a foul enough mood as it is.”
Why exactly that was, Harry wasn’t sure. He wasn’t entirely sure just who he would use the Resurrection Stone for.
I imagine Tom had the same problem.
Traitorous thoughts plagued him as he walked, cursing him with the occasional flicker of scarlet. By the time Harry had reached the castle, he had grown rather sick of it.
I highly doubt the stone is capable of real resurrection, anyway.
“So you can shut up,” Harry told his mind rather harshly. His imagination refused to bow.
It doesn’t matter, his mind reminded him loudly, You don’t care whether you can use it or not. You just want it.
It seemed as though Tom’s obsession with trinkets had somehow passed on to him.
Harry made his way through the large oak doors and through the corridors that would lead to the Great Hall. It was abnormally quiet, especially for a Saturday. Harry’s brows furrowed as he thought carefully, struggling to remember if he’d forgotten something. Nothing came to mind.
“Might’ve been something they announced while I was in the Hospital Wing,” Harry decided, “It’d explain why no one bothered to fill me in . . .”
Shaking his head, Harry approached the doors to the Great Hall, He opened them with a lazy flick of his wrist.
Breakfast -
Harry stared. Hundreds upon hundreds of students turned around. They wore robes of various shades - some the black of Hogwarts, others the baby blue of Beauxbatons or perhaps the ivory fur of Durmstrang. Not one student, Harry noticed, made so much as a sound.
And none of them are eating breakfast, either.
A lone figure rose from the staff table, hurrying down the hall and towards him. A heavy clattering rang through the hall with every step they took.
“Mr. Potter,” Madam Pomfrey whispered. She leaned closer, preventing the students nearby from hearing, “You’re meant to be in the Hospital Wing -”
“I felt better,” said Harry simply, “Really, I woke up feeling perfectly fine.”
“Feeling perfectly fine isn’t the same as being perfectly fine,” Madam Pomfrey reminded him pointedly. Harry waved her off.
“You said it yourself yesterday. I’m fine.”
He glanced over her shoulders, eyeing the sea of students.
“What’s going on?”
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips.
“Safety briefing,” she whispered, “Madam Bones is here to discuss safety protocols during the Triwizard Tournament now that the dementors have been removed.”
The dregs of Harry’s anger melted into something excitable. He glanced again over Madam Pomfrey’s shoulder.
“Bones, did you say . . ?”
Strong brown eyes latched onto his. Harry watched as Madam Bones continued to address the hall from Dumblefore’s lectern, looking thoroughly irritated. He couldn’t help but smile.
“I can stay, right?”
“I suppose,” Madam Pomfrey frowned, sounding as though she personally believed the opposite, “Are Mr. Longbottom and Mr. Weasley doing well?”
“Er - I wouldn’t know,” Harry lied convincingly, “Wasn’t really paying attention to them.”
“They were doing fine this morning, but I suppose it’s been a while,” she said thoughtfully. She glanced back at him, “I was meaning to check on you too, dear - I would have done so earlier, but the boys said you were sleeping.”
“They were right,” Harry yawned, as if it added credibility.
You wouldn’t have been able to check, anyway. The Notice-Me-Not Charms I threw up were no joke.
“Right,” Madam Pomfrey smiled kindly, “You find a seat, dear. I’d better check up on the others.”
With one last look she hurried through the grand doors and out of sight. Harry turned to the Gryffindor table, which was on his left. A sea of eyes stared expectantly at him.
“Harry!” Ron hissed, waving him over. Dean and Seamus were nodding eagerly on his either side. Harry made to step toward them, his vision trailing across the table. A flash of blonde piqued his interest.
Lavender.
The girl sat beside Parvati, as always. Both were giving him a look Harry decided he didn’t much like - the sort you gave a starving dog you saw on the street.
Snuffles would know what I meant.
Harry changed course, striding toward them. He settled himself comfortably between the two.
“Hello Harry,” Lavender smiled sweetly as always. Her eyes draped over him, “You’re looking well.”
Harry frowned.
“The look you gave me just a moment ago suggested otherwise.”
Lavender blinked.
“That’s because we’re well aware that you can look well but not be well,” said Parvati indifferently, “Why do you smell like ozone and burnt cloth?”
“Hello to you too, Parvati.”
His eyes turned to the head of the hall. Madam Bones continued to address the students, a guard of Aurors surrounding her. Harry recognized a distinctive head of violet hair.
“I should say hi to Tonksy,” he decided quietly.
“You should apologize, too,” Parvati muttered, “She and the others spent hours looking for you in Hogsmeade.”
“No wonder she looks upset,” Harry frowned. Sure enough, the purple-haired Auror was glaring daggers at him from the stage, “But that’s not important right now.”
Parvati frowned.
“Then what is?”
Harry turned to her, thinking carefully.
It’d probably be overdoing it if I said ‘you’.
Parvati seemed to know what he was thinking. Her cheeks shifted to a shade of red Harry rather liked.
“Divination,” Harry settled for instead, “I had a few questions I wanted to ask the two of you about the subject - assuming you still care for it, of course.”
“Of course we still like Divination,” Lavender said a bit loudly. A few people looked their way, “What do you need?”
“Say I was a seer -” Harry began. Parvati’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you a seer?”
“No, of course not,” Harry rolled his eyes, “Anyway, say I was a seer who randomly had visions. What would happen if I tried to control it?”
Lavender frowned.
“You’d probably just fail, really.”
“Well, say that wasn’t the case,” Harry struggled to elaborate further, “Say I could force the vision. Would doing so be a bad decision?”
“You said ‘I’” Parvati pointed out. In spite of himself, Harry fought the urge to smile.
Maybe I do like her.
“I’m giving an example,” he argued dispassionately, “Anyway, is it a bad idea? Bad karma, or whatever?”
“Probably,” Lavender nodded, “Fate usually scorns those who try to cross her. You might see something you really wish you didn’t see.”
Harry frowned.
That isn’t likely, seeing as I want to see where Tom hid the fucking stone.
He forced a smile onto his face.
“But that supposed ‘crossing’ is strictly linked to people misusing divination, right?”
“I - er - I don’t know,” Lavender admitted, “That’s a question for Professor Trelawney.”
As if I’d ask her . . .
He quieted, pretending to pay attention to Madam Bones. Time slowly passed by as Harry focussed his mind, struggling to remember the one and only time he’d tried to force a vision. A pair of scarlet eyes flickered in his mind.
It’s been nearly seven years. It’s about time for a rematch.
A determined smile etched its way onto Harry’s face.
(-{- S S -}-)
Madam Bones stepped down from the lectern. Fleru watched as a black-haired boy was the first to rise, sweeping from the hall as though he had far more pressing matters to address. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Eyed him as he left, clearly annoyed.
“Harry Potter,” Alice whispered in borderline awe, “I did not see him at the feast yesterday.”
Fleur frowned, remembering the bespectacled boy she’d seen prowling around the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
He clearly believed the welcoming feast beneath him.
Her eyes narrowed with distaste.
“Neither did I,” Adeline muttered, “I definitely would not have forgotten.”
Aimee frowned at the two.
“It was rude, what he did,” she said purposefully, “No one is above the rules, not even him.”
“Especially not him,” Fleur added hurriedly.
If people are stupid enough to admire him, he might as well set a good example.
Adeline waved them off dismissively. On the table before them, breakfast platters suddenly appeared.
“I would’ve expected you not to make assumptions, Fleur,” she said smoothly, “Didn’t you hear what the Ravenclaws were saying when he came in?”
Fleur’s eyes narrowed.
“No, actually. I was listening to the Bones woman, as you should have been.”
“Well,” Adeline continued, unabashed, “If you had been listening, you’d know he was in the Hospital Wing.”
If possible, Fleur’s irritation grew.
An excuse to miss the feast. He must’ve really thought it beneath him.
The boy’s dismissiveness perturbed her in a way she hadn’t known possible. Fleur glanced back at the end of the hall, watching as Harry Potter made his way toward the exit. A piece of toast flew lazily into the boy’s outstretched hand.
Fleur blinked.
“He can do wandless magic?” Alice breathed heavily. She seemed about ready to faint.
“So what?” Fleur frowned, “Loads of people can.”
To prove her point, she held her hand out. A thin piece of bacon rose shakily from the center plate, approaching her own rather nervously. It fell just before it could reach Fleur’s plate.
Both Alice and Adeline stared at her.
“That’s without any practice,” Fleur snapped irritably, “Give me a week or two and I could do it, too -”
“I don’t get why you dislike him,” Adeline frowned. Fleur sighed.
“I don’t like or dislike him,” she said irritably, “I dislike your celebratory worship of a person you’ve never met, and the fact that you’re willing to excuse his wrongdoings.”
“Celebratory worship,” Adeline scoffed, “When have I ever . . .”
She trailed off, wilting under the expressions both Fleur and Aimee sent her way.
“Fine, fine,” she muttered in thick French, “You win. Happy?”
“Very,” Fleur smiled, “Now be quiet and eat your eggs and bacon.”
Breakfast continued leisurely for quite some time. The food was very good; Fleur helped herself to a second serving of eggs, allowing her eyes to wander as her friends engaged in conversation. A small girl sat along the edge of the yellow and black table, talking with her friend. Over at the silver and green table, a young boy was horsing around with his friends. Fleur smiled -
Shiver.
Fleur grew suddenly aware of a number of eyes. Hailing from all over the hall, they watched her blankly, not unlike the oldest of the portraits in her family’s chateau. Fleur nervously threw up her hood.
“Are you alright?” Aimee asked worriedly. Fleur nodded.
“Fine.”
Fleur chanced a glance at the males down the hall. Many of them were staring at her rather haughtily. One was not.
Nearly shaking from discomfort, Fleur forced herself to examine the boy. He was rather pale, with platinum blonde hair and sharp grey eyes. The boy ate silently as the girl beside him chattered away, his eyes latched upon the lectern.
“Looks paranoid, doesn’t he?” Aimee muttered. Fleur nodded in hurried agreement.
“Yes, I suppose he does.”
She looked away, the feeling of being watched growing far too oppressive for her taste. Her head remained high in the air. Across from her, Adeline smiled.
“Still refuse to look down?”
Fleur’s jaw clenched.
They mustn't know their actions have any affect on me at all.
“At least Gabrielle isn’t so prideful,” Adeline yawned. She lazily stabbed a sheet of bacon with her fork, “There’s hope for the Delacours yet -”
“Don’t say that,” Alice frowned, “I can’t imagine how Gabby would deal with all this.”
“She wouldn’t,” Fleur said, not for the first time, “So I will do it for her.”
Muttering broke out from the front of the hall. The Beauxbatons girls turned, watching as Madam Bones spoke in hushed whispers with the Aurors.
“Clarisonus,” Fleur muttered, jabbing her wand forward. Her hearing strengthened tenfold.
“- must be strengthened at once,” Madam Bones was saying, “I want the place swarming with Aurors by nightfall.”
“Madam Bones,” an Auror with long brown hair frowned, “We’re at risk of being overheard -”
Bones snorted.
“As if it matters. They’ll all know soon enough - Merlin knows Skeeter won’t be able to abstain from her quill for long.”
Despite her words, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement swept her wand through the air. The words she exchanged with the Aurors quickly faded into nothingness.
“Well?” Alice asked expectantly, glancing between Fleur and Aimee (who had clearly eavesdropped as well).
Aimee shrugged.
“I don’t know,” she frowned, “But I expect we’ll know soon enough.”
(-{- S S -}-)
Malfoy slammed a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table, seething. Harry gave it a single look over:
‘Azkaban Break-In Leaves Warden Dead!’
“So?” Harry frowned, looking up. Draco glared at him.
“‘So,’” the blonde boy repeated disbelieving, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
Harry’s hand reached absentmindedly up to his skull as if to check. Malfoy slapped it away.
“Do you have any idea how bad this looks?”
“When did you become my public relations manager?” Harry snapped irritably. Draco ignored him.
“Imagine, for a moment, that a prisoner tells them it was you -”
“Please,” Harry rolled his eyes, “You can’t be serious.”
But Draco only glared at him, holding out the article for him to read:
‘The second breakout in Azkaban’s storied two hundred and seventy-six year history as a magical prison occurred this past Friday, the evening of September 30th. Initial reports state that an unknown assailant broke into the prison under the cover of night. Though the assailant did not break out any prisoners, they are believed to be responsible for the murder of Azkaban’s sole warden, one Alexander Grey.
“Grey was one of our bravest,” a spokesperson for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement told a sea of onlookers, “He was always willing to do the right thing, even if it meant his own detriment. Wizarding Britain lost a great man tonight.”
Ministry Officials are still unsure how the assailant broke through the prison’s protections. The prison wards were not set off at any point during the break-in. No reports of suspicious activity were made, and the behavior of the dementors at the time was described as ‘nothing out of the ordinary’. The flawless nature of the break in has led many to raise an eyebrow.
“It was Black,” suggested one ministry worker who wished to remain anonymous, “He’s done it before. Doing it again would be as easy as force-feeding a gnome firewhisky!”
The whole thing, most admit it, is rather odd. As the intrepid reporter I am - Rita Skeeter, as you all know - I felt the urge to dig deeper. I can confidently reveal that one particular prisoner not only encountered the armed assailant, but spoke to him at great length.
Whispers within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement reveal that Bellatrix Lestrange encountered the assailant during their daring venture. She, unsurprisingly, refused to cooperate with authorities who demand the assailant’s identity -’
Harry tossed the article aside, not bothering to read any further. Draco loomed overhead.
“You know, it says she didn’t say anything -”
“Bellatrix Lestrange is a raving fucking lunatic!” Malfoy roared, “It doesn’t matter what she says - the fact that she knows -”
“Relax,” Harry muttered, rising from his desk. He circled around the small walkway of Slytherin’s study, “She doesn’t know it was me. She doesn’t know my name.”
“Like it fucking matters,” Draco snarled, “She knows your face -”
“Which won’t matter, seeing as she’s booked into Azkaban for the next . . . forever,” Harry spun around, “Honestly, your priorities are all wrong.”
Malfoy nodded.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “Yeah, you’re right. If you break the agreement, you die, not me.”
Harry paused. The blonde boy stared at the wall opposite him, running his fingers through his hair.
“At least tell me you got what you got what you needed.”
“I did,” Harry admitted with pursed lips, “At least, I got as much as I can get from Morfin.”
Draco eyed him curiously.
“You never said what you wanted from him.”
Harry paused for a moment.
He can’t tell anyone. Besides, he might actually know a thing or two, being the son of Lucius.
“He used to own a magical artifact,” Harry sighed, “An artifact I want.”
“So you asked him where it is.”
“Yup,” Harry nodded.
“And?”
“And Voldemort has it. At least, Voldemort’s the one who took it from him.”
Draco groaned.
“I hate you. I really, really hate you.”
Harry ignored him. He stepped through the open door and out into the main hall of the Chamber of Secrets, examining it thoughtfully. His gaze turned to the oversized bust of Slytherin’s head.
“Hey Malfoy,” he called, his voice echoing through the chamber, “Do you remember that night?”
Draco appeared beside him, his face firm.
“The night we met Riddle?”
“The night we met Voldemort,” Harry corrected, “You, me, and Neville against Slytherin’s heir and monster . . .”
He trailed off, looking around the room. Memories rushed him all at once.
“What do you remember?”
Draco frowned.
“Not much. Just the three of us killing the basilisk with the sword and your conjured rooster, and then -”
The talk.
“That’s it?” Harry frowned, turning around. Malfoy looked uncomfortable, “Don’t you think you’re missing something?”
The Malfoy scion held his head up high.
“Riddle discovered your connection to him,” he said, “He told us that - that a part of him lives within you. And instead of fighting back, you chose to accept it.”
Harry grit his teeth. Fear sparked in Draco’s eyes as Harry’s palms turned to fists.
“He lied,” Harry snarled, “He’s quite good at that. I didn’t accept him -”
“You just chose to follow his footsteps,” Malfoy whispered, “Because that’s different, isn’t it?”
Harry frowned.
“I’ve seen visions of Voldemort,” Harry revealed carefully, “Something even you might’ve worked out by now -”
Draco bristled. Harry ignored him.
“- moreover, I’ve seen the effect he had on people. The effect he had on the world.”
“And you think it’s worth replicating,” Draco shook his head, “I hate to break it to you, but the Dark Lord isn’t the charismatic little shit that you and Riddle try to be. He’s cruel and animalistic. A monster.”
Harry laughed.
“He is Riddle,” he reminded the blonde boy carefully, “I assure you, Malfoy, I know Tom far greater than you -”
“The Dark Lord,” Draco interrupted irritably, “Is not Riddle. They’re - they’re different in ways you couldn’t possibly fathom.”
“Oh?” a disbelieving grin split across Harry’s features, “Go on, then.”
“The Dark Lord doesn’t rely on charm, or smooth talking, or any of that stupid shit you do,” the boy seethed, “He uses power and fear. He breaks people,, he heards them like they’re fucking cattle -”
Harry smiled.
“Don’t be a fool. Tom knows the game far better than that -”
“You’re not listening!” Draco yelled. There was a wild look in his eyes, “You think I don’t know what I’m talking about? You really think I didn’t ask my father every single fucking thing about the Dark Lord the moment our second year ended?”
Harry leaned closer, listening carefully.
“What did Lucius tell you?”
“Nothing, of course,” Draco scoffed, “But I listened more carefully from then on. It wasn’t hard to piece together how my father felt.”
“How your father felt,” Harry repeated. He frowned, “Your father isn’t the most moral man. I don’t give a fuck what he feels.”
“You’re one to talk,” the blonde boy snapped irritably, “The point is, I don’t think father wants him back.”
“And that’s supposed to be surprising?” Harry asked, “Your father, who, since Voldemort’s defeat, has been living life like a king, doesn’t want to turn into an errand boy. Imagine my shock.”
Draco shook his head.
“You don’t get it,” he said simply, “But if we’re being honest, I don’t care. You’ll find out sooner or later.”
The boy turned away. For the first time, Harry considered his words.
It would explain why Tom lost the war. He abandoned the plan.
But that wasn’t the real reason, and Harry knew it.
Voldemort was on the brink of victory. He only lost because of me.
“You’re wrong,” Harry whispered, “I understand him better than anyone.”
“You understand Tom Marvolo Riddle better than anyone,” Malfoy corrected angrily, “There’s a difference. Besides, meeting him once hardly means . . .”
The boy trailed off.
“Visions,” he said eventually, having remembered, “That’s what we should be talking about. Your visions of the Dark Lord.”
“That’s what I intended to speak on,” Harry said, “I want to use them to see where Voldemort stored the artifact.”
“And why does this involve me?”
"I need someone to activate a ritual in case I don't wake up. It should be able to pull me out on the off chance that something goes wrong."
Malfoy mulled over his words.
"Explain the vision stuff again."
“Because I only have visions of what Voldemort was doing when he was my age,” Harry said simply, “Six year old me saw a six year old Tom. Ten year old me saw a ten year old, and so on. -”
“And the fourteen year old Dark Lord hasn’t yet encountered the artifact,” Malfoy surmised, “Well, sounds like you’re out of luck.”
Harry shook his head.
“I’m going to force a vision.”
Malfoy stared at him.
“Is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, “I’ve only tried it once before, back when I was seven.”
Draco stared at him expectantly.
“And?”
“And I saw a pair of gleaming scarlet eyes, and everything went black.”
Malfoy spun around, heading for the exit.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“No,” Draco yelled loudly, not turning back around, “No, no, no. I am not helping you break into the Dark Lord’s mind -”
“Malfoy!” Harry hissed, “Malfoy, the git doesn’t even have a body! Get back here -”
“No,” Malfoy said harshly, “If you want someone to die for you, ask Neville, not me.”
And with that, the blonde turned through the archway and out of sight.
Comments
Levitress
I keep chomping at the bits for more. Love the little glimpses you give us though, and it is an interesting take on these visions and how Harry has developed. Then giving us snippets to show differences, like Malfoy helping with CoS, along with Neville. Very interesting, and just makes me intrigued on that whole backstory too. Can't wait for the next update.
