From the Abyss
Eye of the Needle
By Ruskbyte
Chapter Four
~ Eye of the Needle ~
Hogwarts.
Looks so small from up here.
It is small.
Like a stamp.
I want to smack it with postage cancelled.
Actually, everything looks small from up here. I can't even see the people on the ground, I'm so high up. They don't even look like ants. Pity. If they did I'd be tempted to step on them. No, they don't look like ants. Smaller. Dust mites. Dust. Useless. Worthless. Pointless. They are nothing to me. Less than nothing.
Yet I want to walk amongst them.
Not because I'm lonely or yearn for companionship. Quite the contrary. I hate them. I despise them with everything that I am. Everything that I was. Everything that they have made me become. Everything that I will be. I hate them and that is why I wish to be in their midst. I want them to see what they have done to me. I want to see them realize that they were the ones that melded me into what I am. I want to see them realize that I came back to repay them in kind for what they did to me.
I want their fear. I want to see it. I want to smell it. To taste it. Hear it. Feel it.
I want to become their fear.
After blowing those five Aurors' heads off, I think I'm getting off to a good start.
That and creating this tower have managed to give the townsfolk of Hogsmeade, and those brats at Hogwarts, a thus far healthy fear of me. Truth be told, I think they're more impressed with the tower than they are the decapitated Aurors. After all, this is a time of war. Death, carnage and slaughter have become familiar faces to them. I'll show them a new face to hide from.
Yes, death is commonplace now. Nothing to get excited over.
Conjuring up a mile-high tower with a thought... now that's something to talk about.
This tower is a mile high. I think. I haven't exactly taken a yardstick and checked, but if there's one thing I've discovered about my power, it's that it takes things very literally. I want a mile-high tower, even if the dimension is only subconscious, then that's exactly what I get. It's only a couple of yards across, on the outside, but it is a mile high. I think.
That's something I've always liked about magic. That appearances can be so deceiving. A mile high tower that's a yard or two on the outside, a hundred or more on the inside. Deceptive that. By its apparent internal volume I think my tower's bigger than Hogwarts. They really shouldn't take my accomplishment at face value. Pity I didn't realize that applied to people as well as rooms and buildings. Like my so-called friends. I thought they'd always be there for me. I thought I could trust them. I thought I could love them. Love.
I no longer remember the meaning of that word.
It doesn't matter.
I don't need love anymore.
I don't want it.
I have something better.
Power.
I can do anything.
Anything at all.
Almost.
I can raise mountains with the slightest gesture.
But I can't get rid of this bloody scar.
I can level those same mountains in an eye blink.
But I can't raise the dead.
I know.
I tried.
Cedric.
Sirius.
Hagrid.
Conclusive proof, I think, that the universe still hates me.
Or is continuing to play with me, like a cat with a mouse.
The universe had better watch out if it thinks it can do that.
Cornered mice have a habit of pulling giant mallets out of the most unlikely places.
And my mallet is bigger than any other.
I wish I had some binoculars. Hermione used to watch my Quidditch matches through binoculars. I don't plan on watching Quidditch. I'm more interested in seeing what the assholes at the foot of my tower are trying today.
It's been nearly a month since I arrived at Hogwarts. A month since I revealed myself to that old bastard and the rest of my betrayers. At least those who were there. McGonagall. Snape. Snape... I wonder if they've managed to move him yet. I told him to shut up and stay right where he was. My magic --power-- is different to what they taught at Hogwarts. I ask and I receive. I want and I obtain. I will and it is done. I believe they will have no more luck moving that bastard than they have had luck getting inside my tower.
It's been nearly a month since I created this tower. I think I'll call it The Needle, 'cause it must certainly resemble one. A mile high, a couple of yards thick, and made from some shiny material that is as immutable as my hatred. My need for vengeance. I would call it The Wand, but that would only remind me that I haven't had my own "wand" serviced by some tight, hot, wet, little Muggle bitch since I made my return.
I suppose I'll simply have to find a tight, hot, wet, little witch bitch that I can bend over and help myself to.
Preferably one of those whores that betrayed me.
Not McGonagall.
Don't want to imagine that.
Tonks.
Luna.
Ginny.
Hermione.
Hermione.
Yes...
Yes.
I think I'll visit her... second. After.
Yes.
Second.
Or fourth, if you look at it that way.
Family before friends, after all.
Yes.
"Harry Potter, sir?"
Ah, my hired help.
I don't know why I was surprised when Dobby turned up the morning after I arrived here. I should have known he'd never believe I was guilty. Even though he was free, and employed by that old bastard, he somehow considers me to be his master. Probably the only person in the world that was happy to hear of my return. More than happy. Delighted. Ecstatic. Hell, I thought he was going to cum, he was so excited when he Apparated into my bedroom.
Scared me shitless.
I was expecting an army of Aurors or Death Eaters or both to start Apparating into the Needle at any second. I'd created nearly a hundred... I don't know what they are exactly. Or what to call them. They're certainly big mother fuckers though. Look sort of like a cross between a medieval suit of armour and something out of Star Wars. Ten foot tall and each with enough raw magic and hi-tech gizmos to level Hogsmeade twice. Haven't a clue how they work either, but I've placed five of them on every floor of the Needle now. That's eight hundred of the bloody things. An army. My army. Haven't tested them in battle yet, but I bet they'll be almost unstoppable.
I had willed nearly a hundred of the bloody things into existence before Dobby managed to calm me --and by proxy himself-- down. To my relief I learnt that none of the witches or wizards outside have been able to Apparate inside the Needle. They'd been trying from almost the minute I'd created it. Dobby had only been able to Apparate inside because he was a house-elf and uses a different kind of magic. I fixed that now. Nothing can enter the Needle without my permission. Not house-elves. Not owls. Not cats. Not snakes. Not even bacteria. Nothing.
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thud*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thunk*
Sigh.
Seems the crazy twit's punishing himself for disturbing me. Must've taken my lack of a prompt reply as a censure of sorts. Some things never change, I suppose. Pathetic really. Not that I'm one to talk. After all, I used to beat myself up (though not physically) when I still cared about what people thought. When I was worried about their opinions of me. Not any more. Not ever again.
I'll try and wean Dobby off this habit of self-flagellation.
"Bad Dobby!"
*thunk*
"Bad Dobby!"
*thunk*
It's going to take some work and a lot of time.
"Stop head butting my desk, Dobby," I finally say.
"Thank you, Harry Potter, sir. Sorry, Harry Potter, sir."
I think he must be seeing double. Maybe even triple or more. His eyes are definitely a little glazed over. I think about moving to support him as he sways there in front of me, staring up at me with those great big eyes of his. Tennis ball eyes. Never played tennis. I don't move. He wouldn't appreciate my attempting to help him. Protested whenever I tried when I was still in school. Don't think that's changed either. In a way I'm relieved. I hate physical contact.
Sounds hypocritical, doesn't it?
I abhor being touched, yet I spent the three months before coming here indulging in an orgy of physical pleasure. I don't understand it myself --not that I want to-- but that's how it is. I never found comfort in the arms of those girls and women I slept with. Comfort? I've never known it. Not really. I thought I did. Once. At Hogwarts. With Hermione.
She scarred me.
The three parallel slashes across my cheek tingle with the memory.
No, I didn't fuck those girls so that I could lie comfortably in their sweet embrace -- sweet embrace? Gods, I'm sounding so clichéd. It was pleasure. My pleasure. I screwed their brains out because I wanted to get my rocks off. That rock. Azkaban. My very own private hell for three years. Three lifetimes. Three eternities. Longer even. And shorter. My perception of time is different from what it used to be. Bursts of speed where everything seems to happen all at once. Periods of stillness where life seems like an underwater ballet.
Perhaps it's just a shift in my perception of the universe. Or maybe I can actually control the flow of time itself. Not that I need to of course. But it is an added bonus. One of the changes I've been through since my... rebirth, as it were. There've been a lot of changes. The way I act, the way I see things, the way I think. Guess I shouldn't be surprised by the last one. Years of Dementor induced insanity would change the way anyone thinks.
Just look at what those accursed things did to Sirius when he was there.
Course, he was always a bit off. Him and Dad. And the other two. They'll get theirs, those two. Mark my words they will. Wormtail that filthy rat traitor. Literally. And the werewolf. They will meet their fate at my hand, the both of them. Sirius never betrayed me. Nor did Dad. Unless you take into account the fact that they got themselves killed... leaving me alone. If Sirius had still been alive I'd bet all the gold in Gringotts that he'd have come after me. Gotten me out of Azkaban, regardless of the risk. Regardless of whether or not the attempt would've killed him.
Like it did at the Ministry.
My own damn stupid fault that was. A mistake. One that I most certainly won't be making again. Not that I could really. Sirius died because he came charging in like some deranged knight in shining armour. He was deranged, y'know. Had to be. And my father with him. I mean, really...
Padfoot?
Prongs?
Bonkers, the both of them. Even if they were only a pair of schoolboys.
But it won't happen again. Nobody's left that cares enough to try and rescue me from anything, let alone a life threatening situation. They abandoned me to hell. Condemned me to it really. I seriously doubt they would risk their lives on my behalf after having done something like that.
"What did you want to speak with me about, Dobby?"
"Dobby had served Harry Potter's breakfast in the dining hall, Harry Potter, sir."
Practically swooning with enthusiasm.
Bouncing up and down so eagerly.
I resist the temptation to sigh.
"Thank you, Dobby. Let's go then, shall we?"
I turn away from the small balcony I've been standing on. Here on the top floor of the Needle. Best view of Hogwarts from here. The place in my private chambers, which occupy this entire level, that looks down onto the world outside. A world I have come to abhor.
"Don't disappear, just yet, Dobby."
I could feel that he was preparing to leave.
House-elf magic is different from wizard magic.
But I can feel it --sense it-- just as easily.
Over the past month I've learned to read it too.
"There's something I want to talk to you about."
"Has Dobby done something wrong, Harry Potter, sir?"
Harry Potter, sir.
I'm going to get him to call me just plain Harry, or at least just plain sir, even if it kills one of us. Probably him, since I'm pretty sure nothing on this earth could kill me any
more even if they tried. Hard. I must admit though, it would be fun. Seeing them try that is. Voldemort. Dumbledore. The Ministry. I think I'll enjoy playing with them. It's about time the tables
were turned and for once I can be the one that does the manipulating.
Hmm. I better answer before Dobby starts bashing his head against something again.
"Actually, Dobby, I want to discuss your wages."
"Dobby's wages, Harry Potter, sir?"
He looks so surprised.
I look at him with exaggerated incredulousness.
"Of course, Dobby. You can't honestly believe I expect you to wait on me hand and foot without some compensation. In fact, I already feel positively guilt that we haven't addressed this sooner.
You've been in my employ, such as it is, for nearly a month now."
"Harry Potter, sir, is most gracious. Dobby does not need to be paid."
I swear he's blushing.
"We can discuss it after breakfast."
Almost at the table. He's outdone himself once again. Even when I was at Hogwarts...
"In the meanwhile, Dobby, I have another job for you to do."
He's bouncing up and down again. So eager to serve. So eager to please. Just as I was. Just as I will never be again. I smile wistfully. "There's a note that I need you to deliver. I'd like you to hand it personally to Professor Dumbledore. And while you're at Hogwarts, you can inform the headmaster that you are no longer in his employ, but mine instead."
"Yes sir, Harry Potter, sir."
The note appears in my hand. It's exactly as I imagined it. Exactly as I wanted it. I unfold it briefly to check. Just in case. Yes. Exactly. I hand it to Dobby and he disappears with a crack. The only creature, other than myself, who can come and go as he pleases through the Needle's protective barriers. A part of me wishes I had gone with him. Just to see the look on old man Dumbledore's face when he reads that note.
Just thought I'd let you know; I intend to finish what Hagrid started nine years ago.
I wonder if he'll be able to work it out quickly enough to try and save them.
Don't really care.
He can't save
them.
Nobody can.
Mmmm, I wish I knew how Dobby makes these eggs so perfect. And the toast... such a wonder golden brown and just the right crispiness.
I'll finish breakfast. Give Dumbledore a little time. After all, the game's not fun unless some challenge is presented to the players. My revenge will be much more satisfying if I have to put a little more effort into it. Not that I put much effort into anything these days.
Still... I'll finish breakfast. Give Dumbledore and his feeble Order of the Phoenix a bit of a head start. Then, for the first time in a month, for the first time since creating this tower, I'll be going back out in to the world.
It's been a long time since I was in Surrey.
Time to pay a visit.
TBC...