It's All Inside My Head

Fiendfyre

There were twenty one days until Christmas break. Harry was counting down. The morning after the ball, it had been November 24th, now it was December the first. The past five days had been absolute hell and Harry couldn't bring himself to get out of bed to face another one. The air was too cold, the sky was too dark, and his blankets were too warm. 

'pop'

"Master Harry is meeting the Dark Lord in the training room!" 

Harry groaned and turned over to come face to face with Topsy, Malfoy Manor's house elf. Her hears almost touched the ground, and her huge eyes reminded Harry of Dobby. 

"Five more minuets," Harry grumbled, closing his eyes again. 

He heard Topsy sigh, before ice water poured on his head. Harry yelped and jumped up, glaring at the house elf. 

"What was that for!" 

"Topsy is being sorry sir, but the Dark Lord said Topsy is doing anything to get master Harry out of bed." 

Harry ran a hand through his wet hair and sighed, "Well I'm up now. Let me get dressed and I'll be there." 

Topsy disappeared with a snap of her fingers. 

Harry shivered and got dressed quickly in what seemed the outfit he lived in most days. Loose black pants and a tight black shirt. He grabbed his wand and dried his hair, casting a warming charm over himself for good measure. He remembered the first day after the ball, where Riddle had removed the Ministry's trace on his wand. He had finally felt free. 

Harry strapped his wand to a holster on his wrist and walked out of his room. The Manor's hallway's were still dark, the sun was still below the horizon. Portraits slept peacefully as he passed without a sound, coming to a stop in front of a now familiar door. He pulled it open to find Riddle standing in the middle of the floor, twirling his wand in his hands. 

The man looked up when Harry entered, "You're late." 

"Sorry, I slept in."

Riddle flicked his wand and the door shut behind Harry. 

"Come," Riddle said, "We have much to cover today."

The past six days, Harry had been training with Riddle in this room. Riddle had told him that in order to be any use to him, Harry had to first learn the dark arts. Not defence against the dark arts, just the dark arts by themselves. 

They had started with the cruciatus curse. 

Riddle had brought in some of his lower ranking death eaters for Harry to practice on. He tried to shut his emotions off, he tried to see the men in front of him as rats that didn't think, didn't feel. This approach worked, and he grasped the spell quickly. The power it made him feel was less than the killing curse, but almost as potent. They had carried on with cruciatus for a couple of days before moving onto imperio. 

Again, Riddle had Harry practice on Death Eaters. Harry made them dance on the spot, he made them act like monkeys. He made them draw their own wand and cast avada kedavra on themselves. Riddle had been most pleased about his skills. 

Harry found that each time he used these dark spells, the drainage on his body that he experienced afterwards would become less each time. It was like his body was adapting to the dark arts, like his body was slowly accepting them. 

"What are we doing today?" Harry asked, walking towards Riddle. 

"Tell me Potter, have you ever heard of Fiendfyre?" 

Harry frowned and shook his head. 

Riddle hummed, "It is incredibly hard to control, and if handled incorrectly, could burn down this entire manor in an instant." 

Riddle was silent for a moment. 

Harry cleared his throat, "So why am I learning it if it's so dangerous?" 

"Because I want you to have the upper hand at all times. I want you to master spells with the ease that the Order could only dream of. I am training you to kill Harry Potter," Riddle said, his eyes gleaming, "I am sharpening your blade." 

Dumbledore would tell Harry that Riddle was using him, he would tell Harry that he should escape while he still could. But for some strange reason, Harry trusted Riddle. He trusted the man that had been inside his head, seen his thoughts, somewhere inside, Harry knew that he needed to follow him and do whatever he said. 

"What's the incantation?" Harry asked. 

"There is none. You simply need to feel."

Harry scoffed, "That's not very helpful." 

Riddle hit him with a stinging jinx, "You will not speak." 

Harry sighed and shut his mouth, watching as Riddle flicked his wand. A small string of fire slunk out of the wand, growing larger and larger until Harry could feel the heat of it singeing the eyebrows on his face. The fire was red hot and seemed to be waiting for Riddle's commands. Without warning, the fire transformed into a great snake and opened it's jaws wide before disappearing completely. 

Harry watched as Riddle took a few deep breaths, a drop of sweat dripping down his neck. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen Riddle as worn out as this. If Riddle struggled, Harry was certainly going to burn the manor down. 

"I don't think I can do this..." Harry said. 

Riddle glared at him, "You only need to concentrate." 

Harry rolled his eyes, "Yes 'My Lord'."

Harry brandished his wand and closed his eyes. He thought of fire. He thought of the heat licking at his skin, he thought of the vibrant colours and the scent of it. He thought of burning anger, the type of anger that made you want to kill somebody, that made you want to burn the world. He channelled those feelings through his wand and tried to breath. 

After a moment, he felt heat fill the room and he opened his eyes. A great big phoenix flew proudly in the middle of the room, made of fire. Harry could feel the creature's need to break free, to destroy, but Harry tightened his grip on the wand and forced the fire to comply. 

Harry felt sweat dripping down his back and he ended the spell, feeling like collapsing. 

"That was a good first try Potter," Riddle said briskly. 

Harry looked up and saw devilish pride in the man's eyes. 

"I expect you back tomorrow. On time."  

Only twenty one days until Christmas holidays.