A Snake Named Voldemort

Untitled Part 22

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for .)

Chapter Text

Harry's brows pulled together in quizzical concentration as he and the pale cobra stared at each other for a long, quiet moment.

"Tom?" Harry finally said again, slowly. The snake dipped its head in closer, and, in a strange show of affection for such a creature, began rubbing the sides of its face against Harry's cheeks and chin. Harry sucked in a breath as warmth spread through his mind in an array of images and emotions, wordless communication with no true, complete thoughts. He had little doubt where the foreign input came from. Quiet, nonsensical hissing, much like a cat's contented purr, reached Harry's ears as the snake continued to rub cool, smooth scales against his skin, the contact allowing for their minds to connect. Harry's hand came up and patted his chest, feeling the rest of the snake's body coiled above his heart.

"You're the Horcrux. You're his soul," Harry voiced in wonder, fingers gently trailing down the scales of the physical manifestation of Tom's soul to further confirm its solidity. In response, the snake pulled away and slithered its head down and around Harry's neck, wrapping itself securely around the wizard's shoulders and laying its chin next to Harry's throat. Harry was aware of a continued hum in the back on his mind, even more the contented purr than the sibilant sounds the snake-like Horcrux had made earlier. This was the origin of his and Tom's mind link.

"You're oddly adorable and cuddly," Harry told the Horcrux, which seemed to react favorably to his voice. "Don't tell him I said that, okay?"

Harry sat up, propping himself on his elbows to take a better look around. White white white. If this was what death was like, Harry could see it becoming boring very quickly.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked his companion, although he theorized he wouldn't be able to get much of an answer out of it. "Am I dead?" The question that had been on his mind since he'd first woken up fell from his lips with a quiver.

Underneath his palms, Harry felt the ground begin to tremble minutely, startling him. It would amuse him later when he recalled that his first thought in that moment was, 'Can mystical planes get earthquakes?'

Understandably concerned, Harry observed his surroundings once more. What had at first been white began to grey at the edges, like a dark storm cloud rolling in over the horizon. For some reason, that sent his heart rate skyrocketing. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly terrified. A high-pitching ringing began building within his ears.

Harry was briefly distracted from his fear when the Horcrux around his neck took that moment to tighten its grip, the input from its side of the link getting louder and louder. Eventually, that foreign presence in Harry's mind overwhelmed everything else. His fear fell even farther into the background as his mind raced down the familiar link, instinctively searching for a safe refuge to curl up in. Harry could see that it was better over here, lacking the ominous blackness that wanted to suffocate him from before. But it grew difficult to move farther way, like he was swimming through a viscous fluid flowing in the opposite direction, fighting for every forward movement. Harry grew exhausted, and giving up seemed more and more like the only option.

And then something found him. Relief that wasn't his own cradled him in protective warmth, guarding him from the fear licking at his heels. It soothed him as he curled up near it.

It felt like it lasted both an eternity and a second.

The rumbling had stopped, and while Harry would have liked to stay where he was, safe and warm, he allowed himself to be pushed away because the other presence insisted on it. And just like that, he stood once again in a crisp, white landscape, weary and a little bit dizzy. It was like nothing had happened here at all, and already the memory of it was fading. He still wasn't alone; he felt the Horcrux was still with him when it shifted against his shoulders.