Lesser Virtues, Greater Goals | Tomarry

Chapter 10: Of sleep and plans

Harry was feeling numb. Numb all over. No thoughts. His head had stopped spinning two minutes ago. He does not know how much time has passed. He is just waiting for the punishment to be over. He has closed his eyes, preferring the darkness to the intensity of the light.
He will not bend.

He knows that 'adaption' can easily be translated into 'obedience'.

'Adapt Harry. Be a good little boy. Don't ask questions. Do as I say. Obey me, for I hold the key to your freedom. Fear me, for I can kill anyone you ever held dear. Worship me, for I am a creature of the darkness and I need it. I am a narcissist and I need it. A psychopath and I need it.
And what are you? A beacon of hope. A Gryffindor. No. Worse than that. An empath.
And we all know what happens when you put a psychopath with an empath in the same situation for too long. The empath becomes sympathetic. The psychopath gains more control. They end up destroying one another. Consuming one another. There is nothing left. Nothing but bones. Will that happen to us? What do you say?'

Harry opens his eyes, finds his normal breathing rate and sees that he is back in the office, still seated on the brown armchair. Both of his hands are shaking.

The other isn't in the room. Harry thanks his lucky star, Pegasus, for it. (It was a little star he saw every night from his window at Hogwarts. It appeared lonely, away from all the others, to the right side of the sky.)

His feet feel sore, as if a heavy stone had crushed them. He makes a move to stand up and fails. He falls back on the soft material of the chair.

He needs sleep again. He doesn't know why he sleeps so long here. At least ten hours every night. In Hogwarts, he was sleeping seven hours most of the time. Maybe it's the depression.

He also needs a hug. And Hedwig. And Molly Weasley, for all that matters. He needs to see a true parental figure.

Not.. him.

He steels himself, determined to make his feet move, in spite of the pain on his ankles.

He gets up again. Takes a breath in, leaving it flow through his respirational system and then out. Another step forth. He walks till he reaches the door. Thank the deities from all religions, it's open.

The house is quiet. Nothing is moving.

He finds the staircase. He climbs it all the way up. No one. He sees his room. He gets in.

He puts both chairs and the desk behind the door. He doesn't have a wand. He tries to calm the anxiety down. He knows a table and two chairs can do nothing, when the other has magic at his side as an advantage.

And Harry doesn't know wandless magic yet. A lump rises to his throat. He pretends it doesn't exist.

He sees Hedwig flying to his side furiously. She had been worried sick.

He checks a clock hanged on the wall. Barely fifteen minutes had passed.

His eyesight is again filled with two big black eyes and white feathers. He smiles and raises an arm for the owl to sit on. She cooperates happily. He carries her to the bed. He removes his shoes while she finds a comfortable spot to lay on.

Usually, she was kept in her cage.

Only dogs and cats climb up beds, but since he was taken here and since she had been brought in as well, he had preferred to hold her instead of a pillow.

It's the illusion that they both feel braver if they stay in one place together.

Hedwig may have the reputation of being a really brave and badass owl, but these few weeks, she has been scared for the boy, out of her damn mind too.

She might not have a connection with him through a scar, but she can guess his emotions. And her human, especially today, is on the verge of breaking down completely.

She blames that other boy. The one that took her from the castle without her permission. The evil one, with the dark aura surrounding him. He is charming alright. She recognizes that.

But he will not break the spirit of her human. She has sworn to protect him. And that's exactly what she will do.

No more being afraid. She has to be brave, for the both of them.

The boy is laying down on the bed, still trembling.

She lifts a bit of the blue sheet with her beak and covers him up with it. She cannot see it, but she is sure he smiles a little.

His arm is curled around her. She allows herself to be petted and comes closer, her white feathery head resting on his shoulder.

They fall asleep within a minute.

_______________

Tom hadn't realized what a big deal the boy was. Not at first.

Ginny's descriptions did not do Harry justice. She described him as 'so kind and thoughtful and perfect!' Ugh. Girl, please. You don't know what you're missing here. She didn't say anything about the cracks. Cause he saw them. He saw them even more by every passing day.

The hero of the Wizarding world was not overweening. That was good. He couldn't tolerate arrogance (that wasn't his).

He was scrawny, even for a boy of twelve. The older had been searching through his mind, discovering new information every now and then. The Gryffindor wasn't aware of it. He had discovered the Dursleys treatment this way but he hadn't told the other. That was useful in many ways. Harry Potter craves desperately for 'validation' as he on his own had said.

And what about him? He craves something to be occupied with, before revealing his existence to Dumbledore. And oh, what a big show that will be.
Who cares about some random petrifications anymore? This... this sounds like a far greater plan. Corrupt the Boy Who Lived - at the extent that this is possible, of course, he's a realist, most of all - and make him be dependant on him.

He already knows he is far better than the younger's muggle relatives. He must ensure that there is no other competition. He must find the boy's magical guardian and have a word, or two, with him.

He will make sure the lion cub will not be able to live away from him. Live without him. Their fates were sealed by Voldemort choosing the boy, the half-blood, the same as him, when Harry was still in the crib. Their souls are intertwined.

Wait a minute. Back up.

Their souls. The scar, the visions, these eyes, bright green, as if the killing curse itself has been trapped in them...

'Oh my, this is absolutely hilarious.' For him, that is. 'Who could have guessed. Harry is a...'

Tom holds back a genuine laugh.

'Merlin help them.' He thinks, grinning like the Chesire cat. 'The Light Side will not know what hit them.'