Spectre: The Dark Riddles #1

27: Runespoor*

[Chapter warning: mention of murder and violence]

"According to writings from Parselmouths, each of the Runespoor's heads served a different function. The left head was the planner; it decided where the Runespoor was to go and what it was to do next. The middle head was the dreamer, and the right head was the critic; it evaluated the efforts of the left and middle... It was common to see Runespoors with the right head missing, as the other two heads often banded together to bite it off when it criticized them too much."

--from the textbook Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Newt Scamander, 1927

***

Horcrux.

The word clangs through me, and my veins turn to ice. I'm surprised I remain standing. "H-how long have you known?" An inconsequential question in the grand scheme of things, and yet I want to know.

That careful gaze remains locked on me. "Since it happened on my sixth birthday."

I move to one of the shelves and distract myself with the books. Most of them are leatherbound and smooth to the touch. The feel of them stills the gathering storm in my mind, helps me maintain a modicum of calm. I finally ask, "Did it hurt?"

"Remarkably." His voice is strained, not like he's holding something back, but like... like he's uncomfortable. Like this is already more information than he's ever shared with someone else.

My hand pauses over his first edition copy of Great Expectations. One of the few books in here I have yet to read. "Does it hurt now?" Is that why his every breath seems to be measured, because any movement reminds him of the constant ache?

He hesitates. "I'll survive."

"That's not what I asked."

Tom presses his mouth into a thin line. "You get used to the pain." He adds, as if in an afterthought, "Knowing about the horcrux's existence, fighting against it, shielding my mind from its power—that's the hard part. If I didn't know I was a horcrux, or if I just let it consume me, the pain would not be there. So, yes, I'll survive, because the pain means I'm doing the right thing."

I turn to him. He hasn't taken his eyes off of me. The distance between us has narrowed to a few feet. "Why are you looking at me like that?" I wonder, frowning at his wide, unblinking eyes.

"I'm waiting for you to make a move." Waiting for me to try to kill him.

"Trust me, if I knew how to kill you, your body would have frozen over in the icy ground months ago." I wouldn't have waited for this news to attack him. If I knew any kind of magic better than he did... But I know when I'm outmatched.

"You do know how to kill me," he argues. "Basilisk venom, remember?"

I blink. "Do you want me to kill you, Tom?"

He hesitates.

I curse under my breath. "You do. You want me to kill you."

"The Dark Lord can't get what he wants." The words are a breath of a whisper, so quiet I strain to hear it, like he's afraid of Voldemort somehow overhearing, even while he's miles away. "I won't let him win."

I remember that Aberforth had alluded to a promise Tom had made, something to do with ensuring the destruction of every horcrux... "You're going to kill yourself. That's why you're collecting information on the other horcruxes, so you can know how to destroy the one inside you, isn't that right?"

"I can't do it myself. I've tried. Wherever the horcrux dwells inside of me... it always fights back. What the hell would you do if you were me?"

"If that's true, if you truly don't want him to win..." My feet drag me towards him, and my voice lowers as I ask, "Why would you spend the last several years supporting him? Why feed him valuable information about everything he needs to know to rise to power?"