Controlling

Chapter 33

Harry didn't know he could still feel this much pain, but then, again, emotional pain is diferent than phisical pain and with his pain tolerance as high as it is, he should have known that he could only be emotionally hurt.

The worst part?

Knowing that no matter what happens, his emotion are always under control, passing him when he wishes them to, feeling them later with time to process them, but he, again, forgot, how he did that one he is not sure (maybe he knew deep down, he just pushed it deeper) one little detail, Tom Marvolo Riddle has been fucking with his life since he was born, sure, it was under influence, but it was him, at least a part of him, unfortunately, the insane one.

But now, here he was Tom Marvolo Riddle, sane and fine sitting in front of him, the man he had dreamt countless night, really countless, of how would his life had been with him.

Where would they meet? How? With whom? Was it summer or winter? Was he his charming self and sweep him off his feet? Or would that be himself? Or his sarcastic one and they would headbutt against each other?

It no longer mattered since the moment that boy appeared unconscious in the middle of the ritual circle.

Because he was there, a little hope in the middle of the darkness he had found comfort in, a little warm in the cold, a little life to the dull days.

He could hope, then, hope they would somehow work it out and bound and live, traveling the world, maybe, rule it, sure, but they would be together.

Now, the illusion was shatter like glass, the little hope he had managed to light, die down as the winds of Fate blow it way, his life has been miserable, why it would be any different now?

Knowing that he was out of reach because of himself was painful, yes, but knowing he was right there, sitting, face calm and composed already, but out of reach? Was an entirely different kind of pain he wished to will it away.

So he did, he buried it deep behind his mental wall, under the pressure of the ocean's bottom, buried it deep, at least, for now, until it either manages to surface on its own or he wills it to.

With a vast amount of memories he has, he had to get creative when they pill up, so he created a replica of Earth, its country, forests, lakes, animals, plants,... he hide his memories of each country he had travel to on their replica, in museums, libraries, forests and who knows where. The painful ones, the ones he wishes to forget, are buried in the ocean filled with monsters, some really myths, others of his creation and others real.

Now, the ocean has one more monster resting deep in its floor, waiting for the day when he can come up and who knows? Maybe destroy the world? Hmm, or go back to sleep?

Harry will deal with it when he thinks he is ready, for now, he will resist the urge to kill himself right there and remain seated as he sips his tea, his eyes resting on the cause of it all, because when doesn't involve Riddle in his life? One way or the other, the little soul had made his way to it.

The day passed like a blurr to Harry, he didn't remember much of what he did, he had hidden himself behind his mental walls, trying to get through the day without letting on how broken he was inside.

When night finally arrived, Harry laid down on his bed, an arm under his head while the other lay on his belly.

"You know, you could always kill him" a familiar voice said, coming from the shadows as they took the shape of a man.

"Still haven't gotten over that, Death?" Harry asked, sighing but smiling a little when he his trusted companion show up.

"I have long gotten over the fact that he ran from me, he is not the first and certainly not the last" they said, taking his usual choice of figure of a man wirh black hair, black eyes, pale skin and rosy lips with a muscle and tall body.
"What i haven't gotten over is the way he treated his soul. Sure, splitting it once, i don't like it, but it's repairable. Splited it again, i'm angry, but still workable. Splited a third and you are dead for me" he explained, casually sitting on air as he talk.

Harry didn't even bother metion that he is Death, instead he heard him ramble on fondly.

"... -ter. Harry!" the sudden call of his name jolt him out of his thoughts to focus on his servent "You okay?" he asked, worried, well, as worried as Death can be "Do you wish to talk with your family?" Death asked, voiced surprisingly soft.

Harry perk up, even as Master of Death, the number of times he he entered their realm could be counted on both hands.

Besides, talking with his family might be what he needs to vent the emotions bottling up in him, because, even though only a few hours had passed, Harry can feel he may have a breakdown sooner than he anticipated.

He nodded, letting Death put his hand on his shoulder and passing through the line between life and death , it was like passing through a thinck veil of oil.

It took a few seconds to composed himself, because both of his young body and the large time frame between his last visit and this one.

When ready, he straightened his back and started walking to the one of the various gatherings of souls where he knows his parents are watching over him and enjoying their after-life.

Time is meanless in Death's domain, so much that outside could have passed 100 years and yet only a second here, or the other way around, so Harry wasn't sure for how long he walked, he just knows that when he finally arrived his legs were aching.

Yes, aching because he is the only living person in the entire realm, aside Death, whose aliveness is questionable, thus he has the limitations of flesh.

He passed through crowds of ghosts, some looking at the land of the living, others talking with ancestors and family, others in line for whatever services they wish.

No one looked at him as he passed by, only when he wants to be seen in this land they can, searching for the place where his family gathers, the place where the realm's magic guides him to.

He saw them, their solid figures, in Death's realm their soul are phisical here, thus giving them something akin to a body, gathered together.

Among the sea of people, a familiar mop of long red hair caught his eye.

(Revised)