The Master of Death

Chapter36: Death's Soul

As hilarious as Harry had deemed Ron and Hermione's reactions at first, he still caught himself being relieved when they didn't treat him any differently after the revelation that he wasn't straight. Dealing with this on top of everything else was hardly something he would've looked forward to. It was difficult enough to pose as an ordinary student and even though their curious inquiries slowly started to grate on his nerves, it was still better than adding to Dumbledore's concerns by distancing himself from his friends.

Days after his revelation, Hermione still beat herself up because she didn't consider his mysterious girlfriend being a guy, while Ron was not so subtly trying to get a name from Harry.

And yet this was nothing compared to the rumours about Harry's secret lover which began to spread like a wildfire. It appeared as if the entirety of Hogwarts didn't seem to have another topic to talk about.

It wasn't like Harry wasn't used to the hushed whispers following him everywhere, but it was annoying nonetheless.

Even the DA meetings were streaked with a strange mood, but for now, no one had outright dared to ask if the rumours surrounding him were true. He was torn about continuing to teach them. While occasionally, it could be quite fun, it was just a bunch of extra work. In the end, he found, that he was petty enough in regards to Umbridge to continue it.

Keeping up the charade of an ordinary Hogwarts student slowly turned into a hassle. Going from class to class, Harry felt the eyes of the portraits following him everywhere, not to speak of Snape who was probably just as thrilled to have been ordered to keep an eye on him as Harry was fond of being monitored.

Whenever Harry took a step out of the castle to visit Hogsmeade, there was always someone trailing him. Harry didn't know whether Dumbledore had had him being observed this closely the first time around, but as a former Auror, Harry had a hard time ignoring the person which always seemed to hang around just barely within the range of his vision.

Harry himself had begun to make it a game in which he would try to shake off his persecutor, only to appear right next to them whenever they thought they'd lost him. It made for some really hilarious moments and he had a hard time biting back a sharp grin when his so-called guardians startled.

But despite this occasional game of cat and mouse, boredom slowly sunk its claws back into Harry's mind.

Visiting Grimmauld Place didn't bring much excitement either, as reading the same files over and over again had really lost its appeal to Harry. And there wasn't much else they could do to prepare for Sirius' trial.

It was then, that Harry's thoughts circled back to the Horcrux in his head. He inspected it more frequently now. He wasn't diving into it, wasn't looking for Voldemort, despite the occasional flash of emotions. It was the soul itself which he was trying to sense. Every time, he could feel the frayed edges of the piece, could sense its misery.

The wrongness of it all got to Harry.

Yet somehow the fragment became oddly placating with his increasing scrutiny.

It began to pulse to life just about every time Harry directed his attention inwards. Almost like a pet of some sorts.

A thought of Harry's which seemed to amuse Death quite a bit.

But even with the Horcrux in his mind, there wasn't much else going on.

The only notable incident that came up was on a Thursday in November, when Harry once more showed up in Grimmauld Place and found his godfather, drunk, in the rooms that had already been cleaned out before Harry had ever even stepped a foot inside of the house.