521-DREAM
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SS Chapter 17: The Midnight Dance
🕑 Added 2024-10-13 04:52:59 +0000 UTCXVII: The Midnight Dance
Crack.
The world spun. When it rightened, Harry stood in a cozy, snow-covered village. A large, thin gate stood before him.
The Cemetery.
Harry nervously pushed the gate open. He stumbled forward blankly, striding through two rows before coming to a stop. Two large, overbearing gravestones sat before him:
‘James Potter
1960 - 1981
Lily Potter
1960 - 1981’
“Still no decorations,” Harry mumbled quietly, looking down,”Here -”
He waved his wand through the air. A sea of lilies and roses burst forth, covering the entire cemetery. Harry felt his chest ache as the magic left him.
“They’re all for you,” Harry told the gravestones earnestly, “Even if they’re on other people’s grave - gravestones -”
This is pathetic.
Harry turned away, his palms balled. Discomfort swelled within him once more.
“I must be losing my mind,” Harry muttered, “Goodbye, or whatever -”
“They’re beautiful.”
Harry spun around, his wand raised. His heart lurched as long, scarlet hair shimmered beneath falling snow.
Mum?
The girl held out her hand, tears sliding down her cheeks.
“Walk with me.”
Her soft palm pressed against his, leading him out of the cemetery and toward the village square. Harry could just barely make out the scent of mangoes.
Familiar. She smells familiar.
“Susan,” Harry realised slowly. He blinked, “I don’t understand- why are you here?”
The two of them stopped at a small fountain. Harry watched as the redheaded girl took a seat along the fountain ring, motioning toward her lap. Harry balked at her.
“You - what?”
“If you don’t want to then don’t,” Susan shrugged, “You usually prefer my lap, that’s all.”
Harry grit his teeth, pulling his wand from his robes. Its tip shook drunkenly as Harry pointed it at the girl.
“Explain. Now.”
“I will, I promise,” she said sadly, “I won’t hurt you. Surely you can feel the truth in my words.”
Harry frowned. Sure enough, raw honesty echoed from every word that left the girl’s tongue. Slowly pocketing his wand, Harry took a seat beside her.
“You knew I’d be here,” he frowned, “How?”
“Where else would you be?” Susan laughed mirthlessly, “You come here every time you get drunk.”
Harry froze.
“You’re lying,” he said firmly, “I don’t drink.”
“You do, Harry,” Susan said plainly, “You’re the Gryffindor seeker. You love to party.”
“I - I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Then find out.”
The girl stared directly into his eyes. Harry’s unease grew.
“You know I can use Legilimency,” he said, positively certain. The girl seemed wholly unimpressed by his deduction.
“Is that what it’s called?” she frowned, “Well, hurry up then.”
Harry stared at her.
“You’re mental.”
“Am I?” the girl frowned, “Why, for wanting to speed things along?”
Harry’s unease strengthened. Gritting his teeth, he pulled his wand from his robes, pointing it between the girl’s eyes.
“Legilimency.”
(-{- S S -}-)
Harry wandered aimlessly through the Forbidden Forest, his eyes tracking the rapid fluttering of the Golden Snitch. An empty bottle of alcohol sat within his left hand. Throwing it aside, Harry lunged at the snitch. He caught it deftly in the palm of his hand.
Perfect.
“For a drunk person, you’ve got alarmingly good reflexes.”
Harry sturred. An abnormally pretty witch with long, scarlet hair stood opposite him in the forest clearing. The girl looked very familiar; Harry recognized her at once as the woman from Hagrid’s photo album, the one he’d buried at the very bottom of his belongings. He shifted uncomfortably.
“Mum?”
The girl shook her head, grinning curiously. Harry watched as she stepped closer, the moonlight slipping across her features. He swallowed irritably.
Bones.
“I’m not drunk,” Harry said, letting go of the snitch again. He tracked it as it flew around his head and toward the nearby trees.
“Not drunk?” the girl repeated. Harry’s eyes narrowed - her voice had sounded almost mocking, “I don’t know many sober people who frequent the Forbidden Forest.”
Harry grit his teeth.
“You’re in Hufflepuff,” he snapped irritably, “Of course you don’t know any brave people . . .”
Susan’s brow rose as he trailed off. He watched as she stooped over, plucking the bottle he’d thrown.
“You know, you’re not nearly as charming when you’re drunk,” the girl frowned, “I thought you’d have better control of your mask.”
Harry stared at her.
“Mask?”
Susan nodded.
“The false, curated personality you present to people in order to achieve the outcomes you desire,” the girl murmured, “What would you call that?”
Harry ignored her.
“Who are you?”
“Susan Bones -”
Harry pointed his wand between her eyes. The tip glowed a sickening scarlet.
“Susan Bones is a bubbly Hufflepuff third-year whose greatest concern is whether or not her friends actually like her,” he said sharply, “Who are you really?”
Susan smiled politely.
“What,” she said, bemused, “Don’t tell me you couldn’t see through it. Auntie really overestimated you . . .”
Harry’s jaw clenched.
“What. Are. You?”
The Hufflepuff girl straightened up.
“That’s a better question,” she awarded him, “I’m a bubbly Hufflepuff third-year whose greatest concern is the impending war against Voldemort.”
Harry froze. The girl, unperturbed, continued.
“Auntie thinks the secret lies in allies. That makes sense, I suppose - we fought him alone last time around. I, however, disagree -”
“How do you know about Voldemort?”
Susan frowned. She thought for a long moment before answering his question.
“The Longbottoms have been family friends of ours for centuries. Augusta told Auntie all about your encounter with the teenage Riddle last summer.”
Harry took a heavy step back. The girl watched him all the while.
“Dumbledore thinks you’re the key, you know,” she muttered, “That’s why Auntie doesn’t like him much. But I think he’s right.”
Harry stared at her. The controlled expression the girl wore greatly disturbed him.
“Is that why you followed me, then?” he asked curiously, “To tell a drunk thirteen year old all about your faith in him?”
Susan frowned.
“Partially,” she shrugged, “But it’s more than that.”
The girl tucked her skirt beneath her as she took a seat at the clearing’s edge.
“I looked through the records, you know,” she said clearly, “Academic, of course. There’s only three people in Hogwarts history to have scored a hundred and seventeen percent on every practical final they’ve ever taken -”
“A hundred and seventeen?”
“The limit,” Susan explained, looking annoyed at his interruption, “They stop you from scoring any higher past that point, regardless of what you do.”
Tucking a strand of scarlet hair past her ear, the girl stared at him.
“Can you guess who the three people are?”
Dumbledore, Tom and I.
“Seeing as the Ministry’s only kept record for the past four hundred years -”
“Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore, Tom M. Riddle, and Harry J. Potter,” Susan cut into his spiel, “Everyone knows you and Dumbledore, of course. And imagine my surprise when I found out that the unknown Tom M. Riddle shared the very same name as the teenage Voldemort you encountered . . .”
“You’re rambling,” Harry snapped, “Get to the point.”
The girl frowned.
“You can beat him,” said Susan simply, “With the right tools and information you can save the world for a second time.”
Harry frowned. He stared at the girl carefully, inspecting her.
“That’d grant me an awful lot of power, you know,” Harry noted, “People were lining up to kiss Dumbledore’s feet after the war with Grindelwald. Imagine what they’d do to someone who stopped Tom . . .”
“Power can be curbed,” Susan said carefully, “I’d advise you not to get too attached to the idea.”
Harry leaned closer.
“Why, what would you do?” he grinned, “Turn the people against me,?”
The girl shrugged.
“I think you could manage that on your own,” she murmured, “Wouldn’t take long, especially not if the world saw the real you - the one on display right now.”
Harry waved her off.
“I’m drunk,” Harry muttered indifferently, “Besides, you upset me . . .”
“Why? Because I dared to look like your mother?”
Long, scarlet locks glimmered beneath the moonlight. Harry glared at the girl.
“I take back what I said earlier,” he hissed, “For a Hufflepuff, you’re quite brave.”
“I prefer perceptive.”
“Perceptive?” Harry laughed, “What part of following me into the Forbidden Forest and telling me about your plan to defeat Tom is perceptive?”
Susan smiled faintly.
“You’re quite hard to read, normally,” she admitted slowly, “But that isn’t quite the case when you’ve got several bottles of Firewhisky pumping through your body. Your facial control isn’t nearly as good.”
Harry paused.
“That’s it? You want to know what I think about defeating Riddle?”
The girl thought for a moment.
“My aunt and I are two sides of the same coin,” she said eventually, “We both want justice, but whereas she’s lawful and by-the-book, I’m more . . . holistic. I believe that things aren’t as black and white as most people would like to believe.”
“Holistic,” Harry repeated blankly, “You talk an awful lot.”
“Maybe,” Susan frowned, “But seeing as it pertains to you, it’s in your best interests to listen.”
The girl smiled as Harry grit his teeth.
“As I was saying,” she continued, “I was listening when Augusta spoke of that night in the Chamber of Secrets. My Aunt, of course, took it at face value, but to me it seemed obvious that something was missing. Neville had lied or at the very least omitted something.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed.
“And what makes you believe that?”
“People act in curated ways,” the girl explained, “They need motivation or reason.”
She paused.
“Your actions don’t align with what someone who wants Voldemort dead would do.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“Is that all?”
“Is that all?” the girl repeated, frowning, “Our very way of life is endangered.”
Harry snorted.
“You’re fucking thirteen,” he spat, “Way of life . . . I don’t know if it’s your Aunt being the head of the DMLE or the fact that you’re raised as a proper Pureblood, but you take yourself way too seriously.”
He smiled at the thought, glancing at the girl. She didn’t seem particularly amused.
“So arrogant,” she frowned, “You of all people should know better than to derive worth from age.”
Harry grinned.
“And why’s that?”
The girl’s lips thinned.
“I won’t exacerbate your ego,” she decided, “Nor will I press you any further. I’ve already uncovered what I cared to learn.”
“Did you?” Harry yawned, “I don’t recall answering your question.”
Susan frowned.
“You called him Tom earlier,” she noted, “In fact, that’s pretty much all you’ve referred to him as. It’s quite clear where you stand on the matter.”
Harry stared at her in wonder. A mixture of anger and something odd churned within him.
“You were right,” he admitted, smiling, “I’d never have let that slip if I were sober.”
The girl stared at him. For the first time tonight, Harry somehow felt in control. He could see the sudden twinge of discomfort that lined her eyes.
“You don’t seem particularly upset.”
“No, I don’t,” Harry agreed, “Not that you expected me to be. You wouldn’t have followed me out here if you did.”
The rush of something grew within him. Harry nodded to himself, eyeing the girl carefully.
She knew I’d feel this. She must’ve known . . .
“I was wrong,” Harry murmured, “You aren’t brave.”
Just perceptive.
The girl stared at him.
“You’re a psychopath,” she murmured, “Arrogant, highly narcissistic, and in control. The possibility of something out of your control is guaranteed to excite you.”
Harry nodded slowly.
“You’re my game,” he murmured, “And I’m yours, aren’t I?”
The girl said nothing. She didn’t need to.
And I’m the psychopath . . .
(-{- S S -}-)
“You don’t remember anything.”
It was a statement, not a question. Harry stared at the scarlet-haired girl, torn between bewilderment and irritation.
She looks like my mother.
Harry pushed the thought aside, watching as the girl spun around, heading back to the castle.
(-{- S S -}-)
“You Obliviated yourself again,” the Hufflepuff girl sounded uncharacteristically furious, “You fucking arsehole -”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Harry said, grinning, “But - assuming you’re not just making shit up -, I was always going to Obliviate myself.”
Susan stared at him. The boy grinned.
“C’mon, don’t you see it? If I remembered everything, I’d eviscerate you for daring to manipulate me.”
He leaned closer.
“That’s no fun at all, is it?”
Susan pushed him away, thinking carefully.
“Hubris,” she nodded slowly, “Your biggest flaw. Of course.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
(-{- S S -}-)
“You should visit them.”
Harry grit his teeth.
It was Halloween. Carved pumpkins lined the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, glaring at everyone who got to close. Harry watched as the final rays of light hid behind the tallest trees.
“Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Or what?” the girl challenged, unimpressed, “You’ll hurt me?”
“I could,” Harry admitted thoughtfully. He eyed the bottle of liquor in his hand, “I’m not so accepting when I’m sober. All I have to do is not Obliviate myself . . .”
“You won’t do that,” said Susan. She sounded certain.
Harry frowned.
“This game is fun, I’ll admit,” he sighed, “Especially that I can’t remember it. Makes things so much more exciting.”
He paused.
“The moment it stops being fun, the game becomes pointless. For your sake, don’t ruin my fun.”
“Is that what you call accepting responsibility?” Susan inquired curiously, “Ruining your fun?”
Harry said nothing.
(-{- S S -}-)
Slam.
Susan grunted as he thrust her into the brick exterior of a nearby cottage, his fingers wrapped tightly around her neck. Harry’s eyes were glowing again; he could just barely see their reflection in the girl’s grey eyes.
“You followed me,” Harry cursed irritably. The faint stench of alcohol lingered on his breath, “You fucking dare -”
Choking, the girl pulled a thin sheet of parchment from her robes. She passed it to him. It was in his handwriting.
‘You know her. She knows you.
She wants you to help kill Tom. You keep her around because she’s of use to you.
You’ve been Obliviating yourself after every meeting because you know if you thought about it extensively whilst sober, you’d likely neutralize her.
The girl’s magical ability is unremarkable, yet as an individual she is highly perceptive (albeit lacking in bravery). She is an idealist who intends to shape the world into one of her own image. Do not underestimate her.
You won’t believe this (even though it’s your handwriting) so ask her if it’s true and feel the honesty in her words for yourself.
No, she didn’t show it to anyone.’
“What is this?” Harry hissed furiously, pulling his hand from Susan’s neck. The girl massaged her neck.
“Can’t you read?”
Harry grit his teeth.
“Is this true?”
“Yes.”
Harry listened. Just as he always could, he felt the subtle honesty that lined her tone. He stood still for a long moment, processing everything.
“Why the fuck would I need you?”
“My guardian is the most powerful person in the Ministry, arsehole,” Susan hissed. Harry nodded slowly.
“How can you be sure I’d - what does it say - ‘neutralize’ you if I remembered our meetings?”
“Trust me, I’m sure,” the girl said darkly. Harry frowned, turning back to the parchment.
“It says here that you’re unremarkable -”
“- it also says I shouldn’t be underestimated,” Susan asserted irritably, “But by all means, go ahead.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“I should’ve written about your attitude problem.”
Bones laughed dryly.
“As if I haven’t heard that a thousand times . . .”
(-{- S S -}-)
Harry sat half-submerged in the snow, staring at the tombstone before him. A gentle presence lingered behind him.
“You’re allowed to feel upset, you know.”
Harry’s lips thinned.
“What have I told you about alluding to my parents?”
Susan swore under her breath.
“Don’t act like you remember.’
“I don’t need to. That’s why I wrote it on the note I gave you.”
Susan rolled her eyes, folding up the sheet of parchment she held in her left palm. More than half the page was now covered in thin, miniscule writing.
“I stand by what I said,” she said after a long moment, “You don’t have to hide your emotions. Not around me.”
Harry snorted.
“And why’s that?”
“You’re a manipulative piece of shit. Figure it out.”
Harry sighed, turning back to his parents' graves. He thought hard, considering the note he’d read moments earlier.
She’s an idealist. She’d take any acknowledgement of affection I gave my parents proof that I was willing to stand against Tom. She’d never use that against me.
Harry glanced back at her. Sure enough, proof of his beliefs flickered in her eyes.
“Pass me the note. A working quill, too.”
The girl did as she was told. Harry placed the parchment on his kneecap, writing:
‘Susan Bones will perceive any affection towards Lily and James Potter as proof that you are willing to oppose Voldemort. As such, she will not use anything related to it as emotional blackmail or leverage.’
He passed the note back to the girl. Susan glared at him.
“I hate you,” she hissed, furiously shoving the note into her robes. Harry yawned.
“It’s your fault, really,” Harry murmured, “I mean, for someone whose as perceptive as the note claims - as I claim - you really chose to ignore the facts sometimes.”
“Oh?” Susan grit her teeth, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“All these attempts at trying to rehabilitate me,” Harry said, “Completely pointless - and yet I can’t help but feel you try it every fucking time.”
“Pointless,” Susan repeated, “You think it’s pointless?”
Harry sighed.
“I don’t think, I know,” he said simply, “I mean, I’ve been wiping my memory every single time without fail. You say I’ve visited my parents' graves, what, a dozen times? As far as I’m concerned, I’ve only done it once.”
He stared up at Susan, waiting for her to say something, She didn’t.
“I mean, it’s like starting from square one every fucking time. Why bother?”
Susan stared at him.
“Because it’s not.”
“What?”
“It’s not like starting from square one,” Susan murmured, “The Memory Charm doesn’t change what happened, Harry. It just allows you to forget it.”
“I don’t -”
“You know, when we first met, you only bothered keeping me around because this was your idea of a game,” Susan murmured, “Something tells me that isn’t true anymore.”
Harry stared at her, grinning.
“You think I like -”
“I didn’t say that,” Susan said, “I said that things have changed during the time we’ve spent together. Changes have occurred that you’re completely unaware of.”
Harry’s smile faded. The girl stared at him.
“You used to get mad at me just for the way I looked,” she whispered, “Can you believe that. Mad because I dared to look like your mother.”
She took a step closer.
“You don’t get mad about that anymore, though. Because everytime you’ve come here, you’ve been forced to face the fact that you’re following in the footsteps of your parents’ murderer. And slowly, you’re changing.”
Harry paused. Slowly, he pulled himself away from his mother’s grave.
“The note was right,” he murmured, “I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”
The girl slowly shook her head.
“I’m not manipulating you, Harry.”
“I’m almost positive that’s the exact definition of what you’re doing,” Harry whispered. Hot anger welled up in his chest, “You know what you’re doing -”
“I am not intentionally changing any aspect of your personality or character,” Susan spat, “There. If you can’t trust me, feel the truth in my fucking voice.”
Harry did. Sure enough, nothing but honest rang in the girl's words. Harry grit his teeth.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing the girl roughly by the wrist, “We’re leaving.”
(-{- S S -}-)
“I don’t feel bad.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
The two of them stood at Godric’s Hollow. A golden snitch sat within Harry’s grasp, a bottle of firewhisky clenched within the other. Emerald eyes flicked between the two gravestones of his parents, studying them carefully.
“I want Pettigrew dead.”
Susan shifted beside him.
“Why?”
“I don’t like rats.”
(-{- S S -}-)
Sweat stuck to his nude body like tree sap. Breathing heavily, Harry looked up, staring at the girl whose lap he lay upon.
“I don’t know you.”
“That isn’t true,” Susan Bones whispered, “You don’t remember me. There’s a difference.”
“But you remember me.”
“I do.”
“Prove it.”
“You’re a psychopath,” Susan sighed, “You use and manipulate people into giving you what you want.”
That sounds about right.
“I imagine you have a problem with that.”
The girl thought for a long moment.
“Yes and no,” she said eventually, “It's uncomfortable, but the reason you do it leaves me hopeful.”
“Oh?” Harry rolled over, “And what’s that?”
“Same as me,” Susan said, “You’re idealistic. You want to make the world a better place.”
Harry paused.
“You really believe that?”
The girl nodded.
“I do . . .”
“But?”
“But,” Susan Bones let out a gentle sigh, “But your idea of a better place isn’t the same as mine.”
Harry frowned.
“Tom?”
“Voldemort, Harry,” Susan sighed, pressing her lips against his forehead, “Not Tom.”
(-{- S S -}-)
Harry felt himself vacate the girl’s mind. All at once, he was standing by the fountain at Godric’s Hollow, staring into Susan’s eyes.
“What the fuck was that?” he hissed, pointing his wand at Susan’s eyes. The girl stared at him, still looking rather unimpressed.
“Exactly what it looked like, I imagine,” the girl yawned, “Point your wand somewhere else.”
“What did you do to me -”
“You infuriate me,” Susan spat. Harry watched as she reached into her robes, pulling out the sheet of parchment he’d seen in her mind, “There, is that good enough for you?”
Harry inspected it carefully. It was now completely covered in his own writing.
“How long have we been fucking?”
Susan went a bright red. Harry watched her carefully.
So she does hold some emotional connection to me.
“Nevermind, don’t answer that,” he said quickly, “More seriously, when’s the last time we met?”
“L-last June,” the girl muttered, her cheeks still tinged pink, “After Pettigrew got away.”
Harry nodded thoughtfully.
“Since then, I’ve murdered and tortured several people,” he yawned, watching the girl, “Can you believe that?”
“I can,” said Susan slowly, “Though I imagine you’re making it sound much worse than it actually was.”
The girl leaned closer.
“What were they? Rapists? Murderers?”
Harry grit his teeth.
“Both,” he admitted irritably. Susan smiled, “At the world Cup and when I broke into Azkaban. It was the first time I’ve used the Cruciartus.”
Susan slowly shook her head.
“It wasn’t,” she said, yawning, “But I’m not surprised you wiped the memory of it from your head. That particular curse makes you feel sick.”
Harry stared at the girl.
“I don’t understand you.”
“You do,” Susan frowned, “You’re just choosing to ignore it for the sake of momentary comfort. You always act this way at the start.”
Harry laughed mirthlessly.
“Because you know me so well, don’t you?”
“Better than you do, I imagine,” Susan held her head up confidently, looking him dead in the eye. There was no apprehension in her gaze, “I’ve seen parts of you you don’t know exist . . .”
Harry almost shivered. He stared at her curiously.
“You raped me, by the way,” he murmured thoughtfully, “I was drunk. Innocent and all that.”
“Is that how you think it went?” Susan seemed amused, “As if you didn’t grab me by the fucking throat in the middle of the forest -”
“I’m not a rapist,” Harry growled. Susan stared at him.
“I didn’t say you were,” she whispered, “It’s not like you could force me to do anything I didn’t want to.”
She wanted to.
Harry’s gaze slipped across her. Any resemblance the girl shared with his mother vanished at once. Harry stared into her eyes. Her heavily-lidded grey eyes felt familiar.
“You remind me of someone I met recently,” he said, unable to look away.
“Oh?” Susan leaned closer, “I doubt I’m going to like where this is going.”
Harry grinned.
“Probably not. I know you love your righteousness -”
The girl slowly shook her head. There was little more than a few inches separating their lips.
“You don’t know anything about me, Harry Potter,” the girl murmured, “Ten minutes ago you thought we were strangers.”
“I know everything,” Harry corrected with an air of certainty, “You said it yourself. The Memory Charm allows you to forget. It doesn’t change anything.”
He leaned closer.
“Bellatrix Lestrange,” he murmured, “Your eyes. They’re the spitting image of hers.”
Susan seemed wholly unimpressed, but faint interest flickered behind grey irises.
“Just because our eyes are the same colour?”
“Partially,” Harry nodded, “They’re both heavily-lidded, too. But you’ve both got that look -”
“Look?”
Harry grinned.
“Like you’re fucking insane,” he whispered, “Head over heels. Obsessed.”
He stood up.
“If things the Memory Charm works as you said,” Harry murmured, “Then I should trust what my instincts say.”
Heavy, doe-like eyes stared up at him.
“And what do they say, Harry Potter?”
That you’re obsessed with me.
Harry placed his hand beneath her jaw, tilting her skull up to face him. The girl stared fiercely at him as he leaned closer, placing his lips upon hers.
She tasted like mangoes. Harry felt the girl moan as he delved further, somehow knowing what to do. He had done this before, he was almost sure of it -
Dainty hands pushed him off her. A furious Susan Bones rose from the fountain’s edge, her small frame doing nothing to diminish the hot fury in her eyes.
“I’m nobody’s toy,” she spat, looking up at him, “Not even yours.”
Harry’s muscles twitched tellingly. Grinning, he pulled her closer.
“You don’t believe that,” he whispered, placing his lips along her ear, “I can feel it in your voice.”
Susan looked unimpressed. Harry watched as she withdrew her wand, waving it before his lips.
“You taste like liquor,” she said, her voice clear, “I don’t like it.”
She turned around, stepping back toward the fountain. Harry watched as she went, a twinge of familiarity rippling beneath his chest.
“You’re trying to change me, aren’t you?” he laughed, “Trying to turn me into your perfect prince charming -”
“There’s pros and cons to you being drunk,” the girl said loudly, not looking back, “On the upside, you’re less murderous. But you’re also far more foolish.”
Harry glared at her.
“You didn’t answer my question -”
Susan spun around angrily.
“I did. You saw it for yourself, you stupid man.”
Harry frowned. Susan’s memory of one of many visits to Godric’s Hollow appeared in his head. Harry shook his head.
“Right,” he grinned, “I’m changing myself . . .”
What a stupid fucking thought.
“You’re still guiding me, Bonesy,” Harry snapped, watching as the redheaded girl retreated further into Godric’s Hollow, “Still hoping I’ll change myself a certain way -”
Crack.
Harry reappeared at the girl’s side. Susan glared at him.
“I’m waiting for you to open your eyes,” she said darkly, “I’m waiting for you to see some fucking sense -”
“Why, because he killed my parents?” Harry grinned, “That doesn’t change the truth, Bonesy. His methods work.”
“Being a manipulative rat, you mean.”
Harry grimaced. Susan stared at him, her lips thinned.
“Your method isn’t what I have a problem with, Harry Potter,” the girl whispered, “It’s the outcome that matters.”
She paused.
“You falsely believe that your similarities with Tom M. Riddle must mean that the two of you can’t be enemies.”
Harry stared at her for a long moment. At some point, he couldn’t hold it in any longer - he burst out laughing.
“Bonesy,” Harry grinned, “Bonesy - can I call you Bonesy?”
“Nice of you to ask,” Susan said with faux-sweetness, “No.”
“Right,” Harry cleared his throat, “Listen here, Bonesy. I know Tom better than anybody -”
“Do you?” Susan leaned closer, “What are you, his fucking groupie?”
Harry leered. Gritting his teeth, he pressed a finger against his skull.
“There’s a part of him living within me,” he hissed, “Have I told you that before?”
Susan took a step back. From the twitch of uncertainty in her eyes, he clearly hadn’t.
“I used to think it meant nothing,” Harry said slowly, “Nothing more than a few visions of Tom, or seeing him in my dreams - the usual. But now I can’t help but think . . . what if it means more?”
Harry grinned.
“Exciting, isn’t it? I can learn more about him. Prove you all wrong.”
Susan slowly shook her head.
“Your blindness will be the death of you, Harry Potter.”
Harry glared.
She sounds like Salazar.
“Stop saying my full name.”
“No,” said Susan pointedly, “I won’t. It makes you uncomfortable. A feeling you ought to be more used to . . .”
Harry stared at her. A single, fascinating thought was born deep within the confines of his skull. Harry smiled.
“Do you want to play a game, Bonesy?”
“What?”
“See, I don’t want to sever this - this connection Tom and I share,” Harry murmured “It’s useful. More than that, I can’ sever it without killing myself.”
Susan eyed him curiously.
“But?”
“But,” Harry grinned, “I’m willing to give you a chance.”
The girl frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
Harry pulled her closer, grabbing her palm. He placed her fingers along his scar.
“I’m like Riddle’s diary,” he explained, “Like the ring, too, but I suppose you wouldn’t know about that.”
He let go of the girl’s hand.
“Would you happen to remember how I destroyed Riddle’s diary?”
“The sword of Gryffindor.”
“The sword of Gryffindor after it had been imbued with Basilisk venom,” Harry corrected, smiling, “But yes, you’re right . . .”
He straightened up.
“When you destroy something like the diary or the ring - something that’s got a part of Tom hidden within it - it purges Tom. Have you spotted the problem?”
Susan stared at him.
“I can’t run you through with a sword,” she whispered, “Not without killing you.”
“Bingo,” Harry grinned. He leaned closer, “You’re not going to kill me, are you Bonesy?”
Susan stared up at him. Her eyes were wet.
I didn’t think so.
Harry straightened up. Susan took a slow, unsteady breath.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked uncertainty,
“I don’t know,” Harry muttered, “Maybe you’ll uncover something exciting. Imagine if Tom’s control had brainwashed me entirely - you could free me from his grasp. Have everything you ever wanted.”
He glanced down at the girl, noting the sudden stiffness of her body.
“But you don’t believe that, do you?” Susan whispered. Harry laughed.
“Of course not. I’m smarter than you, Bonesy.”
“And yet you’re pawning off your problems to me -”
“Of course I am,” Harry grinned, “Without alcohol in my system I’d never dare to consider such a stupid possibility.”
He leaned closer. Susan didn’t flinch.
“But you would,” he said. His breath fogged up in the tight air between them, washing over Susan’s face, “People have a bad habit of believing in things they want to be true.”
“I care about you,” Susan whispered, “That’s a bad habit now?”
It always has been.
Harry turned his ring thrice along his finger. Closing his eyes.
Show me Slytherin.
A pale, flickering form appeared before him. Harry grinned.
“Hello, Salazar.”
The old spirit seemed disturbed. Harry watched as he glanced around Godric’s Hollow, pausing upon reaching the redheaded girl.
“What have you done?”
“Nothing,” Harry smiled, “Nothing at all -”
Something shifted in the corner of his vision. Harry turned to find Susan with her wand drawn. It was pointed in Salazar’s general direction.
“Who are you talking to?” Susan asked, her eyes narrowed. Harry could practically see the gears turning in her skull. Smiling, he held up his left hand, tapping the intricate emblem of the Deathly Hallows that was inlaid atop the Resurrection Stone.
“I did call him Salazar, didn’t I?”
Harry turned back to the spirit in question, who looked as though he were going to be ill.
“How drunk are you?” Slytherin murmured, horror-struck.
“Very,” Harry admitted, “But that doesn’t matter. You’ll like my plan all the same.”
Crack.
The world shifted, the snowy cottages replaced with jade green. Harry smiled as the Chamber of Secrets surrounded him, twisting the ring along his finger.
“Bring him here -”
Zoom!
A stream of curses echoed through the chamber as Salazar was flung into view. Harry ignored the spirit as it rightened itself, instead stepping toward the left side pool.
“You,” Slytherin said darkly, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “Have you lost your mind?”
Harry shrugged.
“I don’t know.”
Wingardium Leviosa.
Water flung across the chamber as the great basilisk corpse rose into the air, twisting and turning like a puppet on strings. Harry flicked it toward the oversized bust of Slytherin, grimacing as a faint ache grew in his chest.
“That took more out of me than I thought it would -”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Slytherin seethed.
“Destroying the ring, obviously.”
Harry strode toward the basilisk. A confused Slytherin floated at his side.
“You - you want to purge it of Tom’s control?”
Harry snickered.
“Merlin, no.”
“Then?”
Harry yawned.
“I need to get rid of the Withering Curse on it,” he explained lazily, “That was the only defense Tom placed that couldn’t be circumvented with Parseltongue.”
Slytherin blinked.
“The ring still bears the Withering Curse?”
Harry nodded.
“Fortunately, it didn’t do shit to me,” Harry said, “Because of the part of Tom within me, I imagine -”
“Yes, most likely.”
“- but if that’s the case, it’ll still kill anyone else who tries to use it,” Harry finished, “And that’s something I need to change.”
He stepped forward, ignoring Slytherin’s sputtering. Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled the ring from his finger and shoved it onto one of the Basilisk’s exposed fangs.
Wham!
Hot sulfur rose into the air as a wave of hot, screeching magic flew across the room. Harry watched, horrified, as three ghostly, screaming heads rose into the air, slowly fading into nothingness. A sharp pain rang in his scar as the ring died.
“Fuck,” Harry doubled over, his head practically exploding, “Fuck, fuck, fuck -”
That hurts. That really, really hurts.
Blood leaked from his scar. Above him, the flickering spirit of Salazar Slytherin loomed.
“You’re not done explaining yourself, bootleg Tom,” Slytherin mumbled, “Stay with me now.”
Right.
Harry stirred drunkenly, struggling to get to his feet. The spirit sighed.
“You left the ring on the floor.”
Harry swore, looking down. What remained could hardly be considered a ring; nothing more than a black stone remained, surrounded by a molten puddle of liquid gold. Harry plucked the stone from the floor.
“Now then,” Slytherin’s irritable voice rang from above, “Why do you need the Withering Curse removed?”
Harry grinned.
He’ll love this.
“You saw that girl, right? Back in Godric’s Hollow?”
“It would have been hard not to.”
“That’s Susan Bones,” Harry whispered, “The girl in love with me. She’s fascinating.”
Slytherin’s jaw clenched.
“Elaborate.”
“I’ve been meeting her in secret for more than a year,” Harry said, “She wants to kill Tom. She thinks only I can do it.”
Slytherin frowned.
“This doesn’t make sense -”
“No, it doesn’t,” Harry grinned, “That’s because we were missing a crucial piece of the puzzle.”
He leaned closer.
“I’ve been Obliviating myself of all of our meetings.”
The spirit stared at him, transfixed.
“How can you be sure?”
“I saw it. In her head.”
“She could be manipulating you -”
“She isn’t,” Harry said with an air of certainty, “At least, not in that way. I’m sure of it.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, sighing.
“She catches me when I’m drunk,” Harry explained slowly, “Because I’m easier to read, and more open to what she has to say. She thinks I’d kill her if she tried anything while I was sober.”
“She is manipulating you,” Slytherin warned. Harry laughed.
“Probably,” he agreed, “But the reason - it’s so interesting. She wants to change the world with me. She’s enamored.”
“Just as you are with Tom, then.”
Harry grit his teeth.
“That’s what this is all about, if you were wondering,” he said eventually, “You think Tom and I will be enemies, don’t you?”
“I don’t think, I know -”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” Harry seethed, “On the off chance that you’re right, I need a backup plan. That’s where Susan comes in.”
Harry sighed loudly.
“She’s going to find out how to get rid of the part of Tom within me. You’re going to help her.”
“WHAT?” Slytherin lapsed into Parseltongue, “YOU DARE PAWN ME OFF, YOU FUCKING INFIDEL -”
“Silence,” Harry snapped harshly. The spirit froze, “I’m alive. You aren’t. You mustn’t forget that.”
He turned away.
“It’s kind of brilliant, when you think about it,” Harry said appreciatively, “She’ll do her best to figure something out. If she can’t, who cares - I still have access to Tom’s mind. And if she does - well, I convince her I’ve been cured of Tom’s influence. She’ll hinge onto every word I say like it’s the word of fucking Gospel.”
“You are casting aside an invaluable artifact -” the spirit warned him. Harry shook his head.
“It was only ever of value to me because of how it impacted others,” Harry yawned, “Who the fuck would I summon, my parents?”
“Or more,” Slytherin hissed, “You are handing the girl an endless library of knowledge -”
“I’m aware,” Harry grinned, “It doesn’t matter.”
She’s mine.
Harry slid a palm into the pockets of his robes, fishing for coins. He eventually pulled out a number of silver knuts.
“Incendio.”
Harry waited patiently as the coins melted into molten strands of silver before carefully weaving them into a thin, simple chain. He grunted as he shaped a large lump of material into something capable of holding the stone.
Perfect.
Harry nodded, admiring his work. A plain silver chain now sat in his grasp, the Resurrection Stone clasped tight within its mounting. Beyond it, the flickering form of Salazar Slytherin stared at him,
“You fascinate me, Harry Potter.”
Harry grinned.
“I’m really something, aren’t I?”
“To think,” Slytherin muttered, “Drunken stupidity is what will give you a fighting chance against Tom -”
“We’re not enemies,” Harry reminded the spirit pointedly. Slytherin sighed.
“Then why pass me along to the Bones girl?”
“Just in case.”
“Just in case,” Slytherin repeated, his jaw clenched, “I suppose that’s a more train of thought than you’d produce whilst sober.”
Harry rolled his eyes.
“It’s the optimal move,” he said simply, “I don’t actually need the stone. You’re not particularly useful.”
Slytherin glared.
“Is that so?”
“It is,” Harry nodded, “Tom’s visions outrank you. And, if Susan does succeed . . .”
His stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought.
“At least I’ll have the stone to fall back on.”
“Assuming, of course, the girl returns it to you,” Salazar finished for him.
“She will.”
Crack.
The world spun. Harry’s feet slammed into the snow-covered streets of Godric’s Hollow. He chuckled as a wand was quickly thrust between his eyes.
“Missed me, did you?
“Hardly,” Susan snapped, “You have some explaining to do.”
“I do, don’t I?”
Harry pulled Susan’s hand toward him, focusing his mind.
Get over here, you decrepit spirit.
Slytherin zoomed into view, muttering darkly. Harry stared at him.
“How real are you?”
Slytherin frowned.
“How would I know -”
“You reckon you could watch over an Unbreakable Vow?”
Slytherin thought carefully. Harry sighed.
Only one way to find out.
Harry held Susan’s arm tightly, looking her dead in the eye.
“Do you, Susan Bones, vow to never share the object I am to entrust with you to anyone else?”
Susan seemed unnerved.
“That won’t work -”
“Answer the question.”
The girl nodded slowly.
“I - yes.”
Swoosh.
A tongue of golden light strung itself around them. It felt hot against Harry’s pale skin. Susan Bones stared at it with wonder.
“And do you vow to never summon anyone except for the people I give you permission to call?”
“I do.”
Swoosh.
Another tongue appeared. Harry nodded.
“Do you vow to protect the object more than you would anything else, bar me?”
Susan thought for a long moment.
“I do.”
Swoosh.
A third, final tongue wrapped around them.
“That’s all I need to hear.”
Harry pulled his arm away. The lights vanished, leaving him and Susan standing in a dark, empty courtyard. The girl stared at him.
“Harry, I don’t understand -”
Harry ignored her, tossing her the silver chain he’d created. The girl caught it deftly.
“You want to make a perfect world with me, don’t you?”
The girl stared at him.
“Here’s your chance.”
He watched as Susan inspected the stone carefully before draping the necklace around her. She looked up at him.
“Who do I call?”
“Salazar Slytherin,” Harry whispered, “He’ll help you figure out how to purge Riddle’s influence, though I imagine he’ll be pretty useless.”
The girl nodded slowly.
“You’re placing an awful lot of trust in me,” she noted quietly. Harry shrugged.
“Not really,” he murmured, “You love me, don’t you?”
Susan nodded.
“Then save me.”
He leaned closer, pressing his lips on hers again. He was much gentler this time. Susan leaned forward, gently combing her fingers through his hair.
After a long moment, the pair separated. Susan stared up at him, breathing heavily.
“You haven’t changed yet,” she noted, frowning, “You don’t see Tom for what he really is.”
Harry grinned.
“We established that, Bonesy.”
“Then why give me this?” she frowned, holding up the necklace, “What’s the point? Even the alcohol wouldn’t get you to do something so - so rash.”
Harry frowned.
“Everyone thinks I’m crazy for trusting Tom,” he decided eventually, “On the off chance that they’re right, I refuse to lose.”
Not even to Tom. I’m his better, not his equal.
He took a step back.
“You should probably hide that,” Harry whispered, eyeing the silver chain that sat atop silky black cloth, “I’ll be on a warpath when I wake up tomorrow without it.”
Susan nodded, tucking it into her robes.
“I won’t fail you,” she whispered, “I won’t fail us.”
Harry smiled.
“Until we meet again, Bonesy.”
The redheaded girl stared up at him, teary eyed.
“Until we meet again.”
Crack.
Harry reappeared within the chamber of secrets, stirring drunkenly. He took one long, excited breath before placing his wand alongside his temple.
“Obliviate.”
His knees crumbled, and all at once, the world fell into darkness.
Comments
yr45
Brilliant.
