chapter 15
"They were all in love with dying.
They were drinking from a fountain,
That was pouring from an avalanche
Coming down the moutain."
-- Butthole Surfers, Pepper.
.XoX.
Harry's pretty sure Voldemort is evil. Like, it's pretty close (if not solely) a definitive thing. He's killed and will kill and the only comfort is that Tom's planning on doing something about it.
He is, on top of that, almost friends with Gellert Grindlewald. He hears a Raven jokingly call them star-crossed Dark Lords and finds it disgusting... though a valid possibility. One he pushes out of the crevasses of his mind and refuses to mention to Tom.
So, yes, Voldemort is evil. He understands that there does exist grey morality and understands even more so that it doesn't apply here.
It's weird, then, the rumours popping up. Marvolo has reported to his pseudo Head of House twelve times now that the Chryslsis is "not a club, it's a cult, and I will not sit by idly and let children -- magical children -- buy into such a stunt. Gellert may be fine with murdering Muggles to achieve his cause, but I was sure -- oh so sure -- that this castle did not align themselves with that, did they?"
To Harry's total shock and surprise, he even goes to Dumbledore about it. In the middle of the (very full) Great Hall.
Harry's been sitting with the Slytherins -- he's decided that Luna Lovegood can have the Raven table to herself. He is forgiven but they are not friends (just penpals), and he will not add slight to slight by intruding upon the space she's clearly declared she wants. And besides... Cedric and Julian aren't so bad. -- and Marvolo has been desperately trying, to Cedric's eternal pushback, to sit with Harry.
But Harry's not allowing it, not buying this act of star-struck child separate from his "father's" legacy, and Cedric backs him up. Marvolo hasn't yet succeeded.
So the day it happens, Harry does not see Marvolo stand up from his seat but he does see him walk, determined, up to the staff table. He stops right in front of Albus. He speaks loudly, curtly, "Professor Dumbledore."
"Headmaster, my boy. My professor days are long behind me." He looks only at Marvolo, ignoring the large amount of attention that's on them. "Tom, is it? Named after your father... he and I have a long history, I'm sure you know."
"Oh, I've heard," says Marvolo. He locks eyes with him and something about the gesture is too deliberate. What are you playing at? thinks Harry. "And I go by Marvolo now."
"Marvolo, of course -- my apologies. What brings you here -- and now, might I add?" He unlocks his fingers and spreads his palms out, gesturing to Great Hall, filled to the brim with students and staff, his only sign that he has any idea people are watching.
Marvolo shrugs minutely. "I wanted to make you you wouldn't refuse to talk to me."
"My boy, my office hours are free to use for any student. Foreign or not."
"But not to me."
Dumbledore tilts his head and says nothing.
"I have concerns," continues Marvolo, "about the Chrysalis Club."
"Do you?" mutters Dumbledore. He rises from his seat. "Alright then, we can discuss them. I'm sure you know the way to my office. Lead the way, then, if you would?"
Marvolo turns on his heel and Dumbledore trails slowly behind.
And though there's no actual indication... Harry can't help but think Dumbledore knows, too, that Marvolo is Voldemort.
Nothing further is done -- nothing outwardly comes from their conversation -- but that doesn't seem to bother Marvolo. He is adamant not to shut up about it. One evening (three days from when Winter break starts... and two and a half weeks until the First Task), Marvolo comes up to him in the hallway. Harry opts to call it an ambush.
"Just wanted to make sure of something, love," he gushes with that breath that stinks of blood and voice that's full of lies and honey-sweet words. Harry backs up, but for every step he takes backward, Marvolo takes on forward. "You're not thinking of joining them, are you? The Chrysalis Club?"
"What's it to you?" Harry snaps, then rolls his eyes. "No. I'm not."
Marvolo visibly relaxes. "God, good. Try not to get an attitude about it, will you? I'm just worrying. That's what husbands do."
"That's news to me," says Harry coldly, "that you're my husband."
Marvolo sighs wistfully. "One day." He suddenly grabs Harry's hand tightly. Harry winces. "Though I am serious. They're going to offer you something... I don't know what yet... but it will seem irresistible, I'm sure. But you have to reject it. If you need me instead--"
"Arrogant ass bitch." Harry tugs his hand out of Marvolo's grasp. "If I need you ? I don't know you, dude. We're not friends. We're hardly acquaintances. And we're sure as Hell not lovers."
Marvolo is untouched by his venom. He acts all parts of boy in love for what is practically a stranger. "Just tell me, Harry. Tell me you won't join."
Harry doesn't see any reason that he would. He has no business surrounding himself with agony, especially when the... friends he's made are much better company.
But he says, just to fuck with Marvolo because Marvolo is Voldemort and any discomfort toward him is a win, "I'll do whatever I want, thanks."
His face falls and Harry leaves the corridor, feeling much better than when he entered.
.xox.
Harry speaks to Tom about it later. They sit on his bed, curtains closed tight around them, muffalo preventing any Ravens awake too late at night from overhearing. "I just don't get it," Harry says. "Voldemort and Gellert are, like, besties. They're in sync on everything. "
"Just about everything," corrects Tom.
"Yeah, well. It's pretty close."
"Apparently," says Tom, "not close enough."
Harry considers that. He's writing in Tom's journal, rewriting the prologue for his novel. They say the beginning is the hardest. Harry finds he agrees... in more circumstances than writing.
Tom breaks the silence. "You said he talked to Dumbledore? And Dumbledore knows about him, what he is?"
Harry flushes a little. "Yes. And it's not a certainty that Dumbledore knows -- it's just a theory, and I--"
"Intuition?"
Harry deflates. "Yeah. Just my intuition."
Tom's learned that any intuition of Harry's is friend with fact. "What did they talk about?"
"I don't know. Marvolo didn't tell me."
"Maybe he'll tell me," says Tom. Whatever they talked about... Tom suspects it didn't stop at The Chrysalis Club. It is important. Tom's sure of it. And he wants in. "Give me to him."
Harry wavers. "Are you sure that's the best idea? What if he doesn't give you back?"
"I'm corporeal," says Tom, shrugging. "I can handle myself, if the worst comes to worst."
Harry does not look certain (and hasn't Tom learned that Harry's intuition is friend to fact?) but Tom is his friend. He may not trust Tom's plan but he does trust Tom. If things go south, he'll do what he can. That's what friends are for. Trust... and backup.
.xox.
The day that Harry sends Tom off to talk to Marvolo, he is approached by two thin sisters with pigtails. Hufflepuffs. On their robes are matching butterflies. Harry doesn't need intuition to know these girls are trouble.
He'd known, since the moment he was offered a space in their club, that these are the kind of people that are carefully persistent. What they want, they will try their hardest to get and then try harder. They have a card up their sleeve. He'd thought that, had known that, and had been warned by Marvolo the very same thing.
They have a card. And now they're playing it.
"The Task is directly after Winter break," informs the taller one.
"Yes, I'm aware. Hyperaware, really. I'm actually one of the champions, don't know if you've heard."
"Oh, we know," says the other.
"Some very influential people know, too."
"They been reading the paper, huh?" says Harry. "Anyway, I must be going--"
"We're here to inquire about your preparation for the event."
Harry frowns, then grins. "It's Nunya."
"Nunya what?'
"Nunya business. "
She sniffs. "It's a very difficult task. Your clue word's Mockingbird, right?"
"Yeah. Doesn't ring a bell for me," says Harry. "But, hey, I've been thinking about bringing a gun. Like a Muggle gun. Pretty funny, wouldn't you think? All these other wizards doing cool guy magic and shit I'm just over here. Shooting at it."
"I fear a gun wouldn't get the job done as well as one might hope." She shakes her head sadly.
"And you would know?"
"Not me," she says. "But people talk, you see, and knowing the Tasks beforehand is not... not such an impossibility."
Harry doesn't like where this is going. He can tell their offer before it's even said. "So I join your Club and, what? Get access to all those juicy not-so-well kept-secrets?" Harry snorts. "The word of a stranger is as unknown as the person who voices it. I'll pass."
Shortie steps forward. "If we could guarantee our side of the bargain is held?" she asks. "What then?"
Harry narrows his eyes. "Then I'd be fine without it."
"This Task isn't as easy as you seem to think it is. Do you know why the Tournament was abolished in the first place?"
He does. "The body count." It was one of the pros when considering whether or not to join.
"It's still there, the factors that made it risky. "
"Cool," says Harry. "Can you guys move now, or are you going to keep blocking my way? I swear, the more often I'm cornered, the less suprising it becomes."
"One meeting."
"Hm?"
"You don't have to join," says Tall-ie. "That's what she said. You don't have to join."
"What would she be getting in return, then?" Harry accuses. "This information is valuable and I'm not stupid enough to think someone like Mouton would undersell it."
"You just have to attend one meeting of the Chrysalis Club. Listen to her pitch... and then decide to decline it, if that's what you do so choose."
It's weird. No. Weird is Cedric's power over the Snakes. Weird is Dumbledore letting the Beauxbatons into his home while he so obviously hates them.
This is not weird.
It's suspicious. (His gut is screaming at him to leave. There's nothing they can say here to make their cause better or more sympathetic. Nothing they can say or do to make anything better -- they are, at their core, susceptible children complicit in a cause Harry Potter is not.)
(But that's the thing, really. He's gotten good at that. Ignoring his gut.)
"Why?" asks Harry. "Not a sure-fire way to get someone in, you know."
Shortie spreads her palms out in front of her. "Everyone who joins, joins willingly. No one is forced and though you are prized, you are no exception to this rule."
Prized? Katherine's Portraits must have hit them hard, huh... What a legacy he has built. He and Tom have that in common, too. A past that leaves a bitter taste in their mouths.
But Harry wonders. These girls are messengers -- in the eyes of the Club, he's sure they're nothing less, nothing more.
But these people... they're not just messengers. They are people. Real life people and being pro-ana doesn't make them any less so. (Ignorance, misguidedness would not make what they have done any better... but it would make it more understandable.)
Grey morality exists. Harry knows this. Sometimes he considers himself a walking example. So Harry does not leave. Does not lash out, as he's been so inclined to. Instead, he asks, gently, quietly, "Do you know what you're supporting? Who you're supporting?"
The answer is immediate. Practiced. "People like Katherine, the apparitions--"
"No," says Harry, projecting more patience than he feels. " Who. "
"Mouton--"
"You say people join willingly. Did you?"
"Of course," they both chorus.
"Well, you're wrong about one thing." Harry leans forward. "They join willingly. They also join ignorantly ."
"We are all well versed in what a low bodyweight can do--"
"Not that." Though it's concerning information. That they have been informed of the effects of an eating disorder and are conditioned to continue anyway. "Mouton's the head of another organization. Perhaps you've heard of it?"
"Oh, yes, the Butterflies is such an--"
" Not that. " Though it is again concerning. But not the point he's trying to make. Not now. "And she's not the head of the BUtterflies. At least, not officially. The Butterflies is a non-profit organization. It's funded entirely by donational means."
This is obviously news to them. But they try and act like it's not a big deal, because right now, it's not. "Your point?"
"They're funded by a festive organization. Seasons' Greetings. Fun, right? They sell Christmas ornaments, card, things for Yule. But that's not where this fun train stops, oh, no." Harry laughs. "You'll see, in their donation list, one other thing. Wanna guess?"
"What are you talking about ?"
Harry slams his foot on the ground. "Guess!" They both stare at him with wide, nervous eyes. Maybe they were warned about him, these messengers. Warned he might say something mean. Insult them. Be unreasonable and rude and maybe, these girls were prepared for that. But just that. "I'll give you a hint. It starts with a 'G' and ends with a 'rindelwald.'"
"That's... that's preposterous--"
"But it's not," says Harry, stalking forward. "You know it's not -- I can see it in your face. I can see it. She's built an entire group on the grounds of them hurting themselves -- is infecting an entire generation -- but they're all just stupid enough not to notice that they're not only hurting each other... they're also hurting exactly who the Dark Lord wants."
Cause Harry gets it. The urge to join a group like this. And he knows that not every Butterfly is a Mouton. Not everyone is intentionally malicious in their pain.
These girls want to hurt themselves. Whether it is a coping mechanism, response to a societal standard of thin they just can never keep up with, or something that started out of peer pressure that they just can't stop, it is likely they never meant to encourage others to do the same. Even is that is what they are doing now.
So Harry tells them this because they might be pro-ana, but they are not pro-Grindelwald.
Harry walks past them and, this time, they do not try and stop him. "Tell Mouton not to wait up," he calls. "And you can look into what I said, if you'd like. I am not a liar.
.xox.
He says that. Tells Mouton not to wait up, treats the proposition like it is ridiculous (and it is!), and the words of Marvolo ring in his head like a churchbell. She wants a way to trap him. This is it, her attempt at that, and it is hardly feeble.
He knows he should ignore it. Ignore her, her group, because any damage he can undo can only be done in small quantities and involving himself past that is asking (begging) for trouble.
He knows. He says that.
But the truth is, he still wants to die. He thinks about it when he starves himself, when he stuffs himself, and when his mind is just too quiet. But he has Tom now. Tom and Cedric and Julian and sort-of-Luna and they prove that life is not so bad when you have someone that wants to live it with you.
He wants to die. He wants to live... in only some sense of the word; in the way that he'd like to want to live for real.
It is a hope. A small burning in his chest and he will be damned if he extinguishes it now.
These people are led by a woman involved with a Dark Lord, drawing in children, easy prey. She is evil. Harry knows it. He also knows that she has (might have) information about what the First Task entails... information that, in Harry's hands, is potentially life saving.
He doesn't want to go to her meeting. He doesn't want to talk, think, or hang around her at all -- but he will. He knows his life can be worth living. He knows Tom gave up a lot to be here with him and that is not a debt that he can repay dead.
So.
So, he'll be going. He will, as a precaution, first get Mouton to swear an oath that if he uploads his part of the deal, she will, too.
It is one meeting. One meeting, and he can last one meeting.
What's the worst that can happen?
(Tom is not here to dissuade him.)
.xox.
Harry tells Cedric during breakfast that he's going to ask around, figure out the date of this thing, and then he'll go to it. "If I don't make it back, you'll know who got me," he says jokingly. He doesn't think the Chysalsi Club is so outright to off him right there and then if he refuses to join them, but, hey. He'd put nothing past them.
Julian pipes in quickly, "I'll come."
Harry raises an eyebrow. (Sick knows sick.) "I didn't think you'd want to," he says.
Julain chuckles nervously. "Well, yeah. But I can't let my favorite author risk his life like that. And... and I think it's dangerous for you to go alone."
Harry hums. "I'll think about it." And think he does. Julian has been nothing but kind to him. He's offering to tag along for the sake of Harry's wellbeing -- despite everyhting Harry has said and done and the kindness Harry has deliberately, time and time, again refused to reciprocate.
Harry catches him in the hallways later and tells him okay, he can come. He tells Julian to stop referring to him as his favorite author.
"Yeah?" says Julian. "What else could I call you?"
And Harry says, "You can start by calling me a friend."
.XoX.
"I say I am to be ashamed
(as you do so agree)
Fretting over what he was
(ignoring what he grows to be)
A good or a great man
(if any man at all)
You'll sink your teeth in and won't let you
Your love's like a turtle
(and it's awfully slow)
Life is a forever tread below
And the only question to remain is
(how far am I to go?)"
-- Harry Potter, "Three of Swords."
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