The Master of Death

Chapter43:Occlumency

The mood within Hogwarts' halls was sombre. Outside it had finally begun to start snowing and despite it being Saturday, the students in the hallways didn't joke, didn't run and hardly any laughter echoed from the walls. The breakout of Azkaban had hit everyone hard.

But unlike the others, Harry had another reason to despise the way Voldemort was going about his plans.

Winning Sirius' trial had been a hardship from the beginning and but with the breakout...

Brooding, he sat in the Hogwarts library, idly listening to Dean and Seamus' banter a few tables further where they were hovering over a few books on conjuration.

Harry himself was staring at a half-finished essay for Astronomy, not really focused on the subject despite the fact that he should really try and finish it. He sighed.

"What are you thinking about?"

The raspy voice caused Harry to raise his head. Death was looking at him with the same intense stare as always, his black hair almost floating in the air while he lounged in a chair on the opposite side of the table.

Harry then truly gave up on Astronomy for this day, pushing the books and parchment aside, somewhat glad that Ron and Hermione were wrapped up in a prefect's meeting. Scanning over the tables around him which were sporadically occupied by students, Harry cast a silent 'muffliato'.

"It's Sirius' trial..." he began then and ruffled through his hair, "How things are right now, I only see one chance at winning this and it for that we need to influence the members of the Wizengamot. Not to speak of the fact, that we would need the Ministry to acknowledge his trial as something real in the first place."

"I thought you wanted to blackmail Tom Riddle into complying with your wishes," Death stated casually.

Harry sighed. "I don't doubt that it could work, but I think that Voldemort wouldn't be too thrilled about me threatening one of his Horcruxes. There is a high chance that he would kill me as soon as he got what he wanted. Or maybe even try to kill me beforehand."

Death smirked. "Because he's so fond of you currently," the being stated.

Despite himself, Harry snorted. "I guess you have a point. But blackmailing him would most likely lead to more problems. Voldemort will hardly be inclined to bide to my wishes if I steal from him first."

He willingly tore apart his soul," Death argued.

"So it's his own fault if he lets the pieces lay around? Is that what you're implying?" Harry inquired.

Death shrugged. From the slightest second, Harry saw his wings jerk alongside the movement. Harry grinned.

But then his attention was directed inward, his own mind once more becoming aware of the soul-fragment anchored to his scar.

He grimaced. "It's just ...wrong, to do that to a soul," Harry voiced. These days, thinking about Horcruxes always came with a queasy feeling. There was something deeply unsettling in the knowledge that these pieces of a soul had been ripped apart, tied to inanimate objects which had them try and drain the very essence of every person that came close in a desperate attempt to mend what should have been whole in the first place. Death seemed to have more than one opinion on the matter. From what Harry got from him, he wasn't directly indifferent towards splitting one's soul, but it was almost as if the concept of Horcruxes offended him on a personal level.

"If you don't want to blackmail him, you have to bribe him," Death said out of the blue, pulling Harry from his stray thoughts. "Give him something that he wants, but can't get himself..."