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Light footsteps, quick breaths.
Where are you going tonight?
Your eyes are half closed, you can’t even see. Struggling against the binds of your magic, you walk in circles, in circles, never asleep.
Somewhere in this nightly silence, you hear its little whispers, creeping into your soul like roots of vile weeds. It speaks of war, of darkness, sometimes of love.
*
His mind felt… hazy. Trying desperately to organize his thoughts, Harry scrunched up the days-old newspaper in his hands and threw it in the fire. His head was bobbing up and down on his neck involuntarily, his body eager to succumb to exhaustion.
They had lost. Really, really lost.
Harry still couldn’t accept it.
It had been weeks, maybe months since they’d run away and gone into hiding, never staying in one place for too long. Voldemort’s followers were always chasing after them. And yet, Harry still wanted to hold on, to fight back. They were hardly in a position to retaliate though.
Hermione wasn’t taking the loss of her boyfriend well, making less and less level-headed judgements about where they should go next. Harry hadn’t even had the time to mourn his best friend, though he felt strangely empty and... incomplete. He was always keeping his mind busy, thinking of ways to get in contact with any remaining Order members.
And yet, he felt a strange itch whenever he picked up his wand. His magic didn’t feel right, his memories of the battle for Hogwarts were a jumbled mess and he didn’t know what to make of it all.
He was so, so tired and confused. Confused was the worst. It made his mind vulnerable to attack. He couldn’t afford to be so careless, so he pushed all the concerns aside forcibly, focusing on finding the next place to hide and consoling a brokenly crying Hermione.
Exhaustion was creeping up on him, but he fought it relentlessly. If he gave in… he could kill another one of his friends while sleep walking again.
*
In his dreams, he wandered cold, empty halls of Voldemort’s manor. It was always so silent.
Nagini would slither up to him sometimes and perch herself on his shoulders, her huge mass feeling somehow right. He wasn’t scared; it was a dream after all.
Then there were the whispers. Shrill and jittering, they seemed to crawl out of the shadows, always finding him. There was no place he could hide from them.
Tonight felt different though. His magic was unsettled and the whispers, louder than usual, seemed to wrap around him, heavy and suffocating.
Don’t tell me what to choose for my Horcrux, Tom.
How much longer do I have to stay at Hogwarts? Those idiots are driving me crazy.
Marvolo, could you…. Yes… Right there!
The whispers wormed their way into his ears, no matter how he tried to shut them out. It was his own voice; he didn’t want to hear it! What the hell was this, some new trick of Voldemort’s?
Could you teach me how to control the Inferi?
Don’t say that. I might have killed Cedric, but there is no need for you to spit on his grave.
Here, it’s… for your birthday.
The whispers were getting louder, echoing in his mind over and over again, endlessly. He had no choice. He would follow the damned little voices, consequences be damned. They led him through many long hallways, all devoid of life and light. Harry’s feet felt cold and numb, but he kept on going, urged by the whispers hovering around him.
I wanted to at least be there when you killed Dumbledore. It wouldn’t have been suspicious, the old man adored me and everyone knows it.
Voldemort… No, I can’t say it. It would be like you calling me Potter. Just - no. Marvolo, the Heir of Slytherin sounds much better. Mar-vo-lo….
Nagini slithered up to him, her cold scales rubbing against his bare feet.
“Tonight, young master returns to ussss… Welcome back,” she hissed at him, turning down her head in an odd sort of bow.
He recoiled, his heart beating so fast it could jump right out of his chest. His head hurt. What the hell was all this? It had to be a nightmare, but if he was asleep, why were his feet so sore? Why could he feel the smooth, cool scales of the snake? Where was he, even? It wasn’t a place he had seen before.
The whispers were surrounding him now, echoing in his mind so loudly he could not think.
Follow, don’t think, they said. He waits for you each night, you know?
And there, through the final oak door, was Voldemort. His features looking peaceful, he breathed in and out slowly. He was asleep.
Harry almost did a double take. He had never imagined the bastard doing something so… human. He’d always seemed so far above everyone else, it seemed almost as though he did not need to do any of the things all others did. Draped over a large, luxurious chair in front of the fire, he was relaxed and his right hand was unconsciously caressing two rings on his left.
It’s yours, said the whispers excitedly, reverberating in the silence of the room. Voldemort did not wake. Take it. Come back.
His mind was reeling, trying to grasp onto anything that made sense in this bizarre dream. His body moved on its own though, instinctively knowing what to do.
The golden ring on Voldemort’s finger had a phoenix engraved on it. It had rubies for eyes and suddenly Harry was grasping it in his own hands, transfixed by it.
Everything fell silent. There were no whispers.
Voldemort’s ruby coloured eyes were looking at him, through him, right into his soul.
“Harry,” he murmured in disbelief.
*
And then Harry woke up, his mind barraged by a wave of memories. Tom Riddle offering him an alliance in the Chamber of Secrets. Refusing at first. Coming back to the memory-boy trapped in Salazar’s underground prison. Eventually helping Voldemort to come back. Creating the phoenix ring for a Horcrux. Killing Cedric. Plotting to overtake the Ministry. Battle for Hogwarts, Dumbledore’s last, desperate curse hitting him in the back…
“Harry, are you ok? Is your scar hurting again-” Hermione was leaning over him, worry in her eyes. He breathed in sharply, feeling around for his wand and picking it up with a shaking hand, on which a golden ring glistened in the darkness.
“Avada Kedavra.”
Green light engulfed the girl before him and not even a second later, she was laying there, her eyes wide open but dull and lifeless.
He was going back.