Lightning and War

The Lost

“You don’t understand me?”

Tom’s face remained locked in a mask of concentration, but the comprehension Harry had hoped to see in his eyes failed to appear. Harry sat back with a long sigh and ran his hands through his hair. His fingers shook, and he lowered his hands to fold them on the table.

Tom let his hands rest on the table, too. “And this is what’s wrong with Dumbledore’s plan to take away all Dark knowledge,” he said softly. “He’s the one determining what’s Dark and what isn’t. In this case, Parseltongue.”

Harry nodded, his mind turning in slow circles. Yes, he wanted to immediately find and confront Dumbledore, and ultimately make sure that the man didn’t win the war. But he also wanted to find some solution to the problem of Tom lacking Parseltongue, and he wasn’t sure, at the moment, what that should be.

He hadn’t the slightest idea what the spell Dumbledore had used was. He had tried to raid the library in the old Potter house, but almost all the books here seemed to be ones about history, without a mention of Parseltongue that Harry could find when he’d cast a spell that would search the pages for that word.

There was, of course, an immediate solution. But Harry was hesitant to raise it in case it didn’t work.

“Harry.”

Harry started and looked up. Tom had leaned in so that his elbows were resting on the table, and his posture almost looked relaxed. This close, though, Harry could see how intense the desperation in his face was.

“I can feel you brooding over here. If you think you know something, if you can do something, tell me.”

Harry swallowed. “I think I might be able to use wild magic to bring your Parseltongue back.”

Tom paused. “I confess I hadn’t thought of that,” he said, in the tone he always used when he thought he’d been stupid. Harry hastily covered one hand with his, unable to listen to Tom scolding himself right now, but Tom was watching the far wall thoughtfully. “Why not? That might work. But there has to be a reason you didn’t charge ahead and inform me the instant you thought of it.”

“I don’t understand the limitations of the wild magic very well,” Harry admitted. “I don’t know a lot about what makes sense to trees. The last few times I used it meant that I almost died. I don’t know if I can even explain to the earth what Parseltongue really is or what they would give you if I managed. It might be nothing like the gift you were born with. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Tom was silent, staring at the table rather than their joined hands, and Harry found himself glad. As long as Tom was the one who considered this seriously and decided whether it was worth the risk or not, then Harry would follow his decision.

Tom looked up. “Let’s do it.”

“I mean—are you sure? I just explained that I didn’t understand the limitations of the wild magic very well—”

“Yes, you did.” Tom’s eyes had hardened. “And I don’t think you understand what losing my Parseltongue did to me. I feel naked, Harry. Stripped. As though someone has flayed away most of my skin and not bothered to cover the rest.”

“What if the wild magic ritual makes you feel worse?”

“That’s not possible.”

Harry hesitated one more time. He thought it eminently possible. He could think of half a dozen things Tom wasn’t considering right now, all of which might end up with him dead, or maimed, or disfigured, or—