Tom was walking in his sleep.
The atmosphere is very dense, imbued with a somber heaviness. A dark fog swirls around him. It was a desolate dream, in which there was nothing, and yet something strange was felt.
"Anybody there?" his voice seemed muffled to his ears as if the air around him had stopped short of shaking with a scream.
The darkness without space was very dark, and a disturbing and pressing feeling hovered in every breath and exhalation; something was wrong. These feelings didn't belong to him, but they overwhelmed everything.
"Anyone?" he called out again.
This time he felt something change around him. A scream shook the air and the ground. It was not his voice. Tom turned around, and the blackness turned into a figure with a glare in his hands from behind the steel, coming at him. He met a scimitar strike with his sword, sparks flew from the magic. His face and mantle were dirty, but everything about him tensed with determination. There was too much pain in him, he could feel it on him as if he were experiencing the same things as the guest in his dream.
There was something oppressive and dark about it all. Something that would not let him rest.
What is it?
Bitterness? Regret?
The pain of loss?
It was all too much to make sense of the feelings he was experiencing, which also intensified over time.
He swallowed hard.
He pushed back.
A sudden surge of force threw his guest back. He landed on his feet, pushing his boots into the ground to stop his fall.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The demon let out a grim, tired chuckle. The demon emperor felt something tighten in his chest. Everything about this place created a sense of hopelessness. There was no heat or air in this place to blow off the dusty, earthy smell of decay.
These were corpses.
Corpses and their bones lay everywhere, scattered on every penny. Disfigured and torn to pieces, like unwanted and obsolete toys. They had no face or soul; all lost in the endless battles.
What happened here?
Was it all his fault?
"Harry," his voice was hoarse and painful.
The demon rushed forward again, holding the scimitar firmly in his hand. He unleashed blow after blow on his enemy, but the Demon Emperor met them all easily, only to be forced to retreat a step back because of the incessant onslaught.
The guest took his chance, he lunged at lightning speed. Tom barely managed to dodge, but the blade was still close enough to hit his thigh. Blood gushed from the wound, and his eyes flashed purple. His hand made a sudden lunge. Harry ducked, but he struck again and again. Because his guest was avoiding his sword, the Demon Emperor made a distraction, grabbing his free hand and turning around, and hurling it against someone's bones.
He heard a crackling sound.
The demon grinned venomously, rising.
Tom realized what was wrong here from the start, and he, instead of blocking the blow, takes it. The scimitar plunged into his shoulder. A demonic mark flashed between the Demon Emperor's eyebrows, and he plunged further into himself, clutching someone else's palm in the trap of his fingers. Ruthless and murderous magic swirled around them, he breaks his guest's hand and presses it painfully against him.
In such proximity, he sees the madness in his eyes. Whatever made him so ugly, distraught with grief, Harry was cursed.
His magic was too unstable, he was not controlling it properly. An iron grip clenched at the back of the Demon Emperor's neck before viciously pulling at his curly hair. He heard the demon's teeth grind. There was no meaningfulness in his gaze as if he were sinking deeper into the abyss. He can't cure this kind of thing with potions and ointments-it's deeper, somewhere near the heart.
Tom can barely help with his blood, but he can't help but smile at the stubbornness and belief in his strength in his enemy's only surviving eye. He punches him in the stomach, taking the scimitar out of his shoulder. Harry spits up the blood that has collected in his throat, nauseated and shaking.
The demon emperor grabs him by the throat, squeezing and pressing on his Adam's apple, rolls him to the dead, and immobilizes him, sliding one knee between his thighs, watching for his reaction.
"Does this demon realize who he wants to defeat?"
Harry grins and tries to push him away, but his guest's strength cannot match Tom's many times superiorities. His rage makes his blood boil, he leans toward him and licks the mixed blood with his sweat. He hears his heart beating nervously somewhere beneath his ribs, and without holding back, he bites. He is punched in the stomach, and he bursts into laughter.
"This Emperor might try to help," he begins softly, "if he is allowed. Would you consent?"
He asks only out of politeness, but he brushes his lips against him in a kiss without permission. He is bitten painfully to the point of blood, but that is what Tom wanted, his blood flowing into the demon's body, preventing the scale created by the hated guest.
If things aren't fixed, none of them can get out of this dream.
It threatens them with terrible consequences, and no matter how much Harry resists it, he suppresses it with a destructive burst of magic. This magic is so powerful that you can hear the dream space collapse because of it, and cracks appear in it. The demon's gaze is a little unfocused and the dizziness is probably unbearable, but he still hangs on and it delights the Demon Emperor. He shakes from lack of air, but Tom lets it go. The demon blood in Harry's veins is hard to move, but because of his concentration, he manages to minimize the effects of the curse.
His guest dissolves beneath him like ink in water, and his surroundings absorb him, drawing him in.
Everything went dark.
The chilling emptiness was all that remained. He wakes up in a cold sweat.
He happened to see that he had been cursed by someone named Gellert.
Are these his... Memories?
There is a noise in his ears.
Should he find it in reality and help?