#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
Harry's ears buzz in the most unnatural of ways, something he's experienced before on multiple occasions, all stemming from nearby horcruxes. It singes the nerves in his head, as if directing the heir to the rightful artifact, sending his eyes outward to relieve the tension. His green irises shine in the low and golden light, like a lighthouse searching for ships, though with a less righteous cause than to save sailing souls. No, he is here to destroy them and it will only be right if he closes his eyes.
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The others watch him curiously, entranced by the way he seeks out the horcrux with a meditative trance, or so it would appear. But the entrancement is not all capturing of the brain, Tom's eyes still perceiving things even while the witch herself does not. Her hand, so precariously placed for unknown reasons, dangles near a silver bowl like many others in the room, and yet, it seems utterly dangerous to touch the object.
And almost like Harry, a hum rises in Tom's ears, unease settling in his stomach with the slight wave of that arm, closer and closer each time. The lights around their forms twitch in worry or suspense, caused by Harry's wand as the ringing grows louder in the boy's ears, like the result of a large noise in his ear cavity. Like a searchlight, the wavering light basks itself against the walls in Harry's almost endless search, sprouting beams onto the ceiling and even the tallest shelves. And just like every other object in the room, metal glitters in the light with the renewed prospect of wealth, and yet, the chalice he then sees is more valuable than anything else in the room.
It's a cup with the logo of the Hufflepuff house, unusual for a Slytherin family to possess and even more suspicious for this reason. But the suspicion is unnecessary when the truth is already known, exemplified as Harry's scar burns, the ringing pitches, and the light flickers in discomfort and dark magic.
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"That's the cup of Helga Hufflepuff," Tom tells Harry, the Boy Who Lived's eyes opening at the news of such a piece. And though it is not necessary, given the namesake of the object, Tom informs them, "A likely choice for him."
The shock of Harry Potter seems to envelop them like the waves of the ocean, their forms wavering in the light. And that wavering comes with a painful clash, Hermione yelping loudly as her wrist impacts with the bowl that causes more pain that it visibly provides. Gazing down at the welt now forming, the bowl typically topples to the ground with a massive clang of bad news.
