Dear Varya,
Only wisdom—desire coordinated in the light of all experience— can tell us when to heal and when to kill. I am unsure whether such words bring back any memory to mind, yet I know the exact date when I read them to you in the Hogwarts Express. I did not understand, then, why they made me so profoundly uncomfortable, almost as if Will Durant had plunged a cold, rotten hand into whatever ruin was left of my soul and twisted it.
Philosophy, the actual string behind the art of manipulation, had only ever been a ladder to the human mind, one I had to climb to understand the heights I would have to go to so that I could conquer even the steepest mountains. It never rang true to me; I never applied myself to such words because I, unlike many, have always been a master of the mental, and no great philosopher could understand the way the gears turned in my machinery.
Even so, as you fell asleep to my lecture, I found myself contemplating the words unlike I had never done before. Knowledge can tell us when to heal, Durant said, then attributed such unfathomable thought to desire, and then I knew that it was utterly ridiculous. The only cravings I had ever had were power, glory, and immortality. All only required destruction, death, and I knew that a muggle could never comprehend the way I functioned.
He made it seem as if killing was a choice, something that most people debated over, a battle of morality and desire indeed. However, I had never felt such conflict— death I ran from, but death I brought, and there was only ever one answer to my existence.
Then, I failed to kill you.
It ate me alive, and I thought my soul had grown weaker from your proximity, and so I decided the only way to rejuvenate myself was to outroot you. And if I could not kill you, then perhaps I could get you to leave. Trouche's death seemed the perfect opportunity, the ideal event to exploit, and oh, how absolutely right I was. It drove you mad, it made you unleash what Dumbledore feared most, and your luggage was by the door in a matter of seconds.
Yet, I felt no better, and soon enough, this absolutely agonizing feeling surrounded me unlike anything else. And it did not feel as if my darkness was rebirthing from its ashes. No, it felt like death. It felt as if every particle was fighting against itself, a conflict of generous proportions, and before I knew it, my hands were gripping this stupid fucking pen.
I told you I would never want you, and that is true.
But you were absolutely right when you told me I needed you.
It is so disgusting, so repulsive, and I fight against it unlike anything else. I do not want to need you, and if I could rip that part out of me and hold my heart in a bloodied hand against whatever deity decided to curse me with such weakness, I fucking would. But I cannot, Varya.
So, why am I writing this? Why am I telling you all of this if all I want is for you to leave?
Call it one last act of manipulation, something that will string you to me across infinity, the thread of hope that will connect us in misery— you, the one that wants and does not need, and I, the one that needs but does not want. Because you brought me this despair, Petrov. And I would be damned if I suffer in this alone.
I am obsessive, cruel, vindictive, all the adjectives in the dictionary that should have warned you not to come close, yet you ignored all, and now? Now, you doomed yourself and me. I have never thought myself capable of anything except hate, yet I find that I care for you, and no matter how much I swim against such current, I drown. I drown in your perfume, in your presence, in your words. So fucking suffocating.
Will Durant might have had a point when he told of choice in the matter of killing, but I will never heal you. Because you and I, we are both made of the same darkness, and I find it only fair that we both suffocate in it endlessly.
You should have never wanted me to need you.
Until we see each other again,
Tom
THE END OF PART I
***
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!
I hope that this book has left at least some sort of mark on you, and that you will continue to read the sequel once I publish it. As soon as the prologue and first chapter are done, I will update a snippet here, and you will know to look at my profile. It should happen sometime next week.
That being said, I do hope you have enjoyed the first part of this story, and whether you found it lacking or not, I thank you for all of the support you have shown. I tried my best to construct a plot that was at least slightly different from other fics, and I hope I succeeded.
One of the most important parts of this book has always been characterization. I wanted the Knights to be their own people, not just followers or a collective personality. I wanted them to be villains, cruel, and yet have a story that made readers empathize with them. If you hated them at first, then loved them, then hated them again, and the cycle continued, then I know I achieved my goal.
So, I hope to see you soon, and if by now I have earned your trust with my writing, then I believe you will enjoy what I have in store. As always, stay safe, and thank you!
And don't forget to listen to the song! I have used it as an inspiration for so many chapters.