The First Horcrux | By : magentasouth Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Tom Views: 27237 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2 |
Disclaimer: I neither own nor profit from any part of the Harry Potter universe. |
“Tom!” Dumbledore’s voice was sharp and exasperated.
He reeled his mind back in with some difficulty, shifting
his gaze to the figure suddenly standing before him, leaning down and looking
concerned. Blinking he offered a questioning expression.
“I have been calling you for several minutes, Tom. You did not respond when I knocked. Are you quite well?! What exactly were you
doing?!”
He frowned up at the old wizard, thinking clearly
“meditating.”
Dumbledore’s face tightened.
“I take it you have not yet begun to speak then.”
If he refused to talk with Dumbledore, the irritating man
would undoubtedly continue to plunder his mind freely.
Tom sighed and forced himself to reply, his voice no more than a whisper. “I can speak.”
Dumbledore looked relieved.
“Ah. That is good news then.”
“Perhaps you might come inside and we can have a chat. I’ll have the elves bring tea and
biscuits.
I had hoped you might have summoned them and asked them for breakfast. Had I
realised you would not, I would have ordered something for you before I
left.”
Largely on general principles, Tom rose and followed him. Dumbledore’s suggestions had never truly been
suggestions for as long as he had known the man. And now... now that he was a leashed prisoner
here, there would be little point in unnecessarily aggravating the wizard.
He seated himself willingly in the large comfortable chairs
by the fire in the head common room.
“Now then... perhaps we might start with the details of how you came to
create the horcrux in the first place” Dumbledore said, smiling in a despicably
kindly-old-man manner.
When it seemed that an answer was fully expected and silence
would not put the goat off, Tom grit his teeth and murmured softly. “I simply wanted more time to learn... More
time to discover things... Immortality
seemed like the best solution. ...Magic most foule mentioned the name and
piqued my interest but told nothing else”
“I eventually found more details in Bent, Whitherstone, Gorlash and Herpo’s own
lost manuscript.”
“I thought if I used the right object...charmed in the right way... it might be
able to self resurrect; might be sentient. ...But...I made an error.”
He hesitated and then amended “Several errors.”
“The idea was flawed to begin with. Not even Herpo would have been masochistic
enough to trap their mind in a
horcrux.”
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. “No...I don’t believe he would have. Of course... Herpo
was nearing two hundred when he created the spell, Tom. One gains a certain...perspective... with
time. I’m certain you’ve noticed. Your logic was that of a highly intelligent
fourteen year old wizard.”
“I suppose... In a certain
sense it is an impressive achievement to have successfully completed such an
advanced piece of magic while so young.
That is not to say that it was a commendable
act. No... I am quite aware of the cost
involved. I would not have thought you
capable of murder in your fourth year
Tom... I shudder to imagine what else
might have escaped my attention.”
Tom just managed to suppress the small smirk. “Thank you.” he replied softly and fiddled
with the material of his trousers in a partially affected nervous manner.
“Do you think...sir...perhaps... you might...”
“Tell you about what occurred since you were placed in the
horcrux, tom?”
“No. Not quite yet. I would like to speak about several other
matters first. - Who was your victim, tom? How did you murder him? Tell me about the event and the casting.”
Sighing, tom told him. The afternoon dragged by in a wash of
probing questions. His tea was
ignored. He had never been able to quite persuade himself to eat or drink anything
offered by Dumbledore. One of the older Slytherins
had informed him in his first year that the old man had been known to dose
sweets and drinks with anything from calming potions to veritaserum.
If the man had come flat out and demanded the information,
tom would have refused. The chamber was his.
Not Dumbledore’s... never... ever... Dumbledore’s.
If it came out that Slytherin had a library in the chamber, Dumbledore would
have him down there opening it and providing him the contents before he could
blink, he was certain.
Salazar Slytherin would revolve in his crypt if Albus
Dumbledore ever laid hands on his most precious tomes.
It was unlikely Dumbledore would derive much use from the
tomes as they were predominantly written in parseltongue, however he wouldn’t
put it past the man to find a way around that.
If the worst came to the worst – he’d likely force tom to translate
them. No. That could not be allowed to happen.
He cracked an eye when the outer door to the common room
opened and closed it again wearily when the curly haired girl from the previous
night froze and gasped in the doorway.
Hadn’t she known he would be
here? Dumbledore would have told her, no
doubt.
Her reaction was almost comical in its extremity.
He heard the door close quietly.
“h..hello.”
The voice drifted across the length of the room, tremulous and uncertain.
He heard her take a couple of halting steps closer and
sighed, opening his eyes and removing his fingers from his temples. He turned his head and gifted her with a
polite smile.
He’d practiced this smile in front of the mirror years before until it had just
the right amount of earnest, friendly vivre to woo all his
professor’s favour.
‘Hermione’ swallowed and froze in place. He tried a soft “hello Hermione” and this
seemed to disturb the girl even more if anything. She seemed intensely suspicious.
Sighing, he turned away again.
“Do you wish to use the common room?” he asked after a
moment. “I can leave if you would
like.”
The slight wounded despondency had the desired effect. She took another few steps closer.
“er... No... No its quite alright...t-Tom...
This is your room too.”
She shuffled her bag off her shoulder and held it in front
of her defensively.
“I...usually study in the evenings before rounds anyway so...
I won’t be in your way much.”
Her phrasing was pleasantly deferential, he noted. Not that he wouldn’t be in
her way, but that she wouldn’t be in his.
“What are you studying?”
She seemed to flounder for a moment at the question and
managed to get out that she was taking everything except divination, and that
she’d be working on advanced transfig and runes tonight.
He sat up a little more.
Those were two of his best subjects before the diary. He was about to ask whether he might join her
when she babbled something unintelligible and hurried off to her room.
He had just had an elf remove the half eaten repast when the
door at the top of the stairs had opened and Hermione had returned. She was still wearing her uniform and looked
like someone trying very hard to give the impression of nonchalance.
He watched her move to the desk and order
her things, which were likely already perfectly sufficiently ordered.
She had her back to him and it was almost possible to detect the way she was steeling herself to show that she was
not on her guard around him.
Smirking, he waved a subtle wandless silencing charm over
his shoes and crept over to stand behind and slightly to the side of her.
“May I-“
he got no further. She shrieked and spun in shock, her eyes wide
and seemingly expecting something on a par with evisceration. It was
extraordinarily satisfying to watch.
He wondered whether she was frightened of him,
knowing that he had murdered and practiced the dark arts, or whether it might
not be his other version that she
truly feared.
“I’m sorry...” he offered apologetically. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I only wanted to ask whether I might join you
while you study.” The rosebud lips
parted and she sputtered slightly, apparently torn between the polite and the
desirable response.
He could see she wanted to refuse and
find some reason to retreat to her room again.
“It’s only...” he hesitated and bit the corner of his lip in
a show of adolescent insecurity
“-I don’t have much to do... and I’d be quite interested in what is taught in
the seventh year. I never had the chance
to experience it.”
The girl seemed to collect herself. As he watched the various emotions flicker
across her face he decided he needed to work on legilimency. It would be so convenient to simply read what
was occurring beneath the surface.
“Thats...um...ok. You
can sit with me while I work if you like.
I...I’m not very good though... you’ll find it very simple I
suppose.”
Again this deference.
Was she trying to flatter
him? He tilted his head and let the
comment slide.
“I’ll just get a chair then, shall I” he remarked, wondering
whether it might prompt her to... apparently yes. Hermione flicked out a wand
at the other chair across the room summoning it for him.
He intercepted it, pleased at the automatic manner in which she’d catered to
him... served him. This could be fostered.
If the girl’s intimidation was not merely fear but also admiration based, it
could be very useful indeed.
“Thank you.” He praised.
“It is frustrating to think that my wand is likely gone forever. So many
things I took for granted will be impossible now.”
It was a lie, of course.
Most things he could do with a wand he could now perform equally well
wandlessly – but it would be a dangerous idea to allow anyone else to know
that.
He seated himself, looking up at her with wide eyes. “I suppose Professor Dumbledore will have me
work on something theoretical for him.”
Hermione’s brow furrowed slightly. “For him? What? He’s going to let you work on magic?”
It was difficult to measure out the appropriate amount of affront to put into
his expression. Hermione seemed to
backpedal. “I...didn’t mean that the way
it sounded.
He shrugged and looked away, projecting an air of despondency.
After a moment she sat down in the chair next to him and
arranged her parchment and quill, opening her textbook and placing it between
them both. He glanced at it
curiously.
She was working on weight/density manipulations by constant form.
It was not basic by any means... at
least not for the average student.
He had mastered it before the diary.
Perhaps he might offer her help at some point?
The quiet scritch of her quill began. It seemed she was writing a brief report on
what had been covered in class. He
exercised patience and tried not to disturb her thoughts. Her face assumed a peculiar focussed
expression when she was writing. It
improved her rather sharp features considerably.
When she had completed the report, to judge by the
lightening of her eyes and the small smile of satisfaction, he took the
opportunity to draw her attention back to him once again.
“I wanted to thank you.” He murmured softly. She looked over as if suddenly remembering
that he was there and her posture stiffened.
“Thank me? Why?”
He tilted his head curiously. “Yes... thank you. I think your...friend? ..might
have seriously hurt me last night if you had not intervened.”
She looked at him with a peculiar mix of relief and dubiousness.
His interest ramped up significantly.
She had expected something else.
What else might Hermione have expected?
The connections sparked in his mind. He
glanced down at her handwriting. It was familiar
even though it was not the same. Her
writing on the page was far neater. It flowed... it appeared more
confident.
Had she perhaps used her left hand when she wrote in the diary?
“You’re welcome” the girl was saying. “I didn’t expect harry
to react quite that extremely. He-“ she broke off and swallowed. “Well... he’s...usually more reserved. He
doesn’t ever behave like that.”
That was useful information.
The idea that ‘harry’ was not usually an aggressive borderline sadistic
individual strongly suggested that he had some extraordinary reason to be so
with tom.
“Why does he hate me?” he asked quietly.
The girl bit her lip.
He found his eye drawn to it uncontrollably. He wanted to tug her lip
free with his thumb and taste it.
“Its...not exactly you
he hates” Hermione said, breaking the spell.
Blinking he decided he was going to have
her. Irrespective the
complications – Hermione would belong to him soon. This girl had found him... had obviously
realised what the diary was immediately. It was due to her intelligence and will
that he was free
– or at least... more favourably imprisoned.
With her.
Another might have - probably had - ignored
the diary entirely, not realising what it was. Many who might have recognised
it would likely have sought to destroy it.
For whatever reason, Hermione was seemingly not ill disposed toward him.
He wondered whether she was still virginal.
He knew any number of blood magic spells that made use of the act of
breaking the maidenhead.
“er... I have to read for runes now.”
Hermione hushed nervously.
He made a go ahead gesture and leaned back in his seat to watch her.
“..It could take a while” she added, all but spelling out ‘stop looking at me
now’
He shrugged again. She opened the book
and nervously began to read...decipher... the thick text, her tight expression
betraying her ongoing awareness of his attention.
“Why did you save me?”
he asked softly.
Hermione flinched and started with a word he could tell was
going to be ‘Harry-‘
He shook his head. “I
recognise your handwriting. You found me.
Why did you choose to save me?”
The conflicted guilty glimmer that flashed through her eyes
disappointed but did not surprise him.
She thought to use him to some end.
But...perhaps it had not been her only
thought. The mere presence of guilt now
was actually encouraging.
He listened to her excuses about morally bound to report her
finding to Dumbledore and that she had not been the one to choose to save
him.
Ignoring it all and laying that particular thread aside for
the moment he asked “The boy... from last night... Harry. Are you and he dating?”
The way her mouth formed a perfect little O of shock was
gratifying. If they had been dating she would have been somewhat less horrified.
“No!” she managed, sounding like she couldn’t believe he’d even ask. “Someone else then?” he probed immediately.
The frown was unmistakeably a yes to him.
Yes... she was dating another wizard. Asking who would not
be of any use since he could not presently leave this place and knew no one
here. She would not answer anyway.
It hardly mattered. It was sufficient to
learn that she was already...spoken for... and that he would need to remove
this competitor if he wished to have her.
She was retorting furiously “I don’t see what business-“ He displayed a
soft, conciliatory smile and stood, cutting her off.
“Forgive me. It was inexcusably impolite
to ask. I was...curious. I will leave you in peace for the
evening. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He reached his hand as if to place it on her shoulder and then stopped an inch
away and withdrew it as if thinking better of the gesture, looking down and
turning away.
He could feel her
eyes following him as he crossed the common room and climbed his stairs.
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