The Necromancer

Chapter 46

Harry poked at the pork pie on his plate with his fork, staring straight ahead. They were having lunch in the kitchen but Harry didn't have much of an appetite for some reason he didn't quite understand.

Things had gone to shit over the last two days. And Harry hated when things went to shit. Absolutely despised it. Didn't know what to do with himself when such a thing occurred. Resurrecting the dementor victims had given Harry some hope that he'd be able to correct some of the mistakes he'd recently made, but that mornings disastrous attempt at returning Dolohov to life had proven Harry wrong.

Harry had lived for such a long time and had mastered so many different kinds of magic that he truly wasn't used to something not working for him, especially when it came to necromancy, and this failure bothered him in so many ways that his mind was fully occupied with it without any room being left for any other thoughts.

"I've finally got you figured out," Tom said, swallowing his last bite of pork pie. Apparently there was nothing wrong with his appetite and he'd already cleaned his plate, though overall he also seemed more subdued than usual.

Harry arched an eyebrow, not even sure if he had enough energy to give a verbal reply. Had Tom actually figured something out or was he simply trying to lighten the mood? Though why he would even try to was a mystery to Harry, since Tom had just lost his friend Dolohov for good thanks to Harry's failed resurrection attempt. Harry poked at his pork pie again with a regretful sigh. He loved Violet's pork pies, he really did, but his stomach might as well be made out of solid rock. Harry doubted he could fit even one forkful of food in there.

Tom placed his fork down and sat back in his chair, giving Harry a look that clearly showed that he was feeling enormously satisfied that he'd uncovered the answer to one of Harry's secrets. "I also finally understand why you prefer dead servants over living ones."

That made Harry sit up a bit, unable to ignore his own curiosity. "Do tell."

Tom's smug little smile morphed into a shit-eating grin. "You're a control freak. You are unable to deal with the idea of not being in control of your direct environment."

Harry narrowed his eyes a bit, unsure if he should feel insulted or not. He'd never really thought of himself as someone who was desperate to be in control. "What's that got to do with my preference for undead staff?"

"Because an inferius will do exactly what he's told without argument. Living staff need managing and then might still go against their orders in some way." Tom shook his head in an obviously fond gesture. "It's rather amazing that someone with the chaotic energy that you carry with you and who is unable to properly plan a single thing is at heart so desperate for control."

"Yeah, I hate to disappoint you, darling, but I don't agree with your assessment of my character," Harry said, sticking his nose in the air while giving a disdainful sniff. "Are you sure you're not projecting? You're the one who ripped his own soul apart to be in control of his mortality, after all."

Tom wasn't deterred by Harry's attempt at shifting the focus. "And you made a whole new country because you disagreed with the laws of the land. How is that for a need for control?"

Frowning, Harry actually considered Tom's words instead of dismissing them out of hand. It was true that Harry liked things going his way. He was used to it, after having created his own country back in Santika. "Still not sure that makes me a control freak," Harry finally muttered while giving Tom a short glare.

Tom replied with an elegant shrug. "I suppose this condition stems from your rather unfortunate upbringing. Being a slave would have anyone desperate for control of their own destiny." Tom held up a hand when Harry looked about ready to explode in his face. "But it takes one to know one, as the saying goes. My childhood was a nightmare as well, which is probably the reason I'm also very fond of having control over all facets of my own life."