Disclaimer: If you recognise it, surprise, I don't own it.

Chapter 32– Traumatic Exposure.

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Opening the door to my abode upstairs, which is the entirety of the floor, I enter my home. I just have a door at the top of the stairs that only I have the key to, which is protected from other means of entrance. Immediately after entering, I travel to the fireplace and take off my clothes and chuck them into it before lighting it up and burning my clothes. I then use every type of cleaning skill in my repertoire to thoroughly clean myself down.

I really don't know how advanced the magical law enforcement is because I only have access to knowledge that is freely out there. Surely there is knowledge hoarded by those who wish to keep it and use it for themselves, and surely that would include the ministry as well. Maybe they are capable of tracking me down from any number of things, which is why I have to take every precaution. Surely the ministry isn't so incompetent to not create or find spells and keep them purely for ministry use to use against criminals and terrorists.

Going to my bedroom, I put on the first set of clothes I found and then returned to the living room. I hear a rumble, and I realise it is my stomach. I must be hungry. Going over to the kitchen, I open the fridge to find it fully stocked. Looking around, I find myself halted by indecision, not because I am spoilt for choice but because I don't particularly want anything. In the end, I reach in and pick out a sliced loaf of bread, taking it with me and sitting down at my table. I start to eat the plain food, picking up each slice one by one.

I continue to put them in my mouth, one after the other, until the whole thing is finished. Am I full now? I can't tell, not having actually felt any hunger in the first place, but I surmise that a whole loaf should be enough to quench it for now. This is annoying. I will have to figure out a proper schedule in the future to eat my meals, as well as what the meals will be to give myself a proper diet to keep my body healthy and strong.

Now that I think about it, I will have to do the same for all other aspects of my life. My desires and emotions are entirely shut off except for my need for my wand and survival. That means I won't be able to keep track of my other needs as well, my biological ones. The need for the toilet, both urination and excrement, the need to eat, the need to drink, the need for sleep, and so many other things. I will need to come up with a schedule to take care of these things manually, as I will not feel them when they need to be taken care of.

Of course, I can just alter my own state of mind to let me feel these things again, but that would be the height of foolishness. That is what I did previously, and obviously, I am not the same person anymore. It was a stupid thing to do since he essentially diminished himself and created me. He has stopped existing because he suppressed parts of himself which led to the creation of me. So, isn't the inverse possible? If I were to add things to myself, like my desires and emotions, then wouldn't I cease to exist.

I am not as foolish as my predecessor to risk such a thing. He didn't even realise what he was doing as he practically suppressed everything that made him uniquely him. There is a reason that mind magic is not well spread and kept restricted, and it is because it is very easy to damage your own mind when you become arrogant and think yourself a master. So, no, I will not mess with my mind and damage my own existence. I will remain and focus on my goals.

Speaking of goals, I need to start thinking about how I will approach them all. Needless to say, my predecessor, no doubt, messed up and approached a lot of them quite wrong due to his own desires and emotions. Attacking Rasputing was the height of idiocy, and for what reason? To satisfy his own ego and prove that he is capable of beating someone in a fight. Idiocy. The less time spent thinking about him, the better.

Right now, I should focus on my goals. First on the list being... being what? What are my goals? What objectives do I have? What is my ambition and desire? All I really want is my wand and to keep living. Surviving. That was what I was made for. It is also the reason I don't want to return my mind to what it once was, as that would essentially be killing myself, which would go against my goal of survival. So, besides that, what do I have that I want to accomplish.

The old me had a lot of things he wanted to accomplish. Starting in no particular order, though he placed a lot of focus on this one, women. He wanted to sleep with and have a lot of women. An obsession, really. Derived out of his lack of love in his previous life which he compensates for with companionship with many women, mainly a focus on the older and mature ladies. One might even say matriarchal or matronly.

It is why he has focused so much on Andromeda, because of his mommy issues. She is a mother. She is kind and caring but also strict and fierce. The ideal mother. They are lovely to their children, but their wrath is immeasurable when provoked or their children are threatened. It doesn't help matters when she seems to care for him as well. By all rights, she should not.

She has been trapped in a contract by him. He is one of the reasons her marriage is falling apart because he gave her this job. And he has hit on and harassed her many a time by doing explicit acts in front of her. And yet, when I walked in tonight, she inquired towards my well-being. No wonder he was obsessed. I myself have no desire for any companionship of the sort. I don't have the drive or the feelings or emotions needed for it. Not romance or friendship. I have no need for either.

He also had an ambition for his business. Wanting to expand it and grow it to the point that he became an integral part of the wizarding world. To the point where he could commit barefaced crimes wherever, and none of the magical governments around the world would take action because his services and resources were so excellent that they could not afford to be without them. Where ancient and noble houses were coming to him and licking his shoes while fully knowing of his half-blood genealogy. He wanted to conquer the entire magical world with capitalism.

I had no ambition for that either. I could use magic to create anything I wanted, and anything I couldn't, I could just steal. As for ruling and lording over everyone, that would be averse to my only goal. Being in such a position gains envy and jealousy, and others would constantly be looking for my downfall, whether that be through legal or illegal means. Most likely, there would be countless murder attempts on me. No, I don't want that.

Finally, the old me wanted to learn all the magic he could and become the best duellist possible to prepare himself for the eventuality that he might be dragged into things. He wanted to enhance his battle capability to the utmost so he could protect and defend himself, as well as maybe use it for his own gain when he saw the need. While I do so the necessity in that, I don't see the need to enhance my craft any further. My current capabilities are adequate.

Instead of preparing myself for danger and battles, I would rather remove myself altogether from the equation. I can use my current resources to secure an isolated home somewhere far away and get it heavily protected, and just stay there. I can use magic to supply for the rest of my needs and never have to leave it again.

This altogether forgoes the need for combat capability and protects me wholly. I can stay there, maybe on an island, completely isolated, with no one knowing where I am. That way, I can fulfil my only goal of survival. I would be protected from everything to live out the rest of my days there, simply waiting for a natural death... waiting.

What would I do on the island? Once my survival is ensured, what else is there for me to do. Nothing. I would simply stay there and repetitively follow my schedule to see to my needs for the rest of my life until my body eventually starts to shut down. I... is that survival? Is that my goal? My only reason for being?

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

For some reason, that doesn't seem much like survival to me right now. There has to be a reason for survival. Survival just for survival's sake seems empty somehow. I don't know why I am feeling like this. By all rights, everything else should be suppressed. My only goal is survival, and technically it is fulfilled. I am alive. I am surviving. It is over. I have my wand, and I am alive. I am not in any danger.

Now, I have come to an impasse. My purpose is fulfilled. Sure, I could stretch it out to encompass the entirety of this life, but what would be the point. I would derive no pleasure or joy out of it. It is not my ambition. I don't even know what it would be to have one. I have no emotions, and my goals have been completed. I do not want to reset my mind to what it once was, as that would go against my goal of surviving. But also, my goal has been completed.

A contradiction. A paradox. The meaning and purpose of my existence is to make sure I survive, which I have done. My purpose is finished, so, therefore, my existence should be as well. And back and forth it goes. My goal is over. I should reset myself, but to reset myself would go against my goal. Except... I find myself confused. Perhaps a new outlook would help this.

With the reason for my existence finished, my existence has no more meaning and should therefore be over. It is not my own survival that is the goal but the survival of this body. Not the mind. Whichever mind controls the body is not my concern. My only concern is the continued existence of the body. Therefore, even if my own existence were to end, my goal would still be fulfilled. This might be self-deception, but all I care about is the completion of my goal.

If I were to stay, my goal would not be completed for perhaps centuries, but this way, my goal would be achieved immediately. This is my one and only goal, and I will do it as efficiently as possible. My new self should appreciate this and take it as a warning call because his own existence could have been entirely over because of his own mistake. He should move more carefully next time and think twice about altering his own mind because the next person to take over will not be so nice.

Sitting at the table, an empty plate before me, I delve into my own mind. Expressing more caution than my predecessor, I sort through my mind slowly and carefully, not yet making any changes but sifting through and identifying what needs to be done and in what order. Finally, after a while of sorting, I have determined exactly what was suppressed and what needs to be changed. I am resetting my mind completely, faults and flaws included. It doesn't matter to me. I am just returning it to how it was.

Readying myself and knowing that my objective is complete, I take action. I immediately released all of the suppression and returned everything back to how it was. My emotions, my desires, my wants, my ambition, my fear, my hate. My everything, it all comes rushing back all at once. And my brain explodes.

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.

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When I finally come back around, I find myself on the ground, my face against the wooden floor, which is now very wet. I drooled everywhere. Damn, that was fucking weird and scary. That version of me was definitely very logical. Still, he didn't have a lick of sense because bringing everything back all at once was asking for an aneurism. Or maybe he just didn't care. Either way, I am not fucking doing anything like that again.

I can remember all of it, how I stopped caring about everything, and none of it mattered any more. How my mind was on a one-track focus, and the world lost colour in its entirety. I am not going to be messing with my own mind ever again. Certainly never going to remove things from it, but adding, after some severe precautions, I can do that.

Picking myself up from the ground, I grab onto the table and pull myself up to my feet. Once I am stable, I can feel the front of my face is all wet from the amount of drooling I did. How long was I down there? I bring my sleeve up to wipe it away, and... it's... red.

"UGGHH!" I puke, vomit erupting from my mouth as my stomach curls in on itself, and all I can see is red. But it is not for anger like it always is when that phrase is used. It is because when I saw my sleeve, my red sleeve, all I remember was blood pouring out of that slit and pouring down onto my face, into my mouth and nose. I can still remember the smell and the taste of it. The sharp metallic taste, and the- I puke again.

Breathing in deep, I try to forget about it all. Knowing the sight of my robes will just have an adverse effect, I make sure my arms are lowered, and my neck is raised, so I won't see it again. I turn my gaze to the left, and I- I puke again, having caught a full glimpse of myself in a body-length mirror. I spin around, trying to avert my gaze, but all I spot is another mirror showing myself covered in red. Blood.

I go to puke again, but my stomach is empty now. I dry heave, and spittle leaves my mouth, the bits of saliva joining the bile and pieces of undigested brad on the floor. Constantly dry heaving, I spin around, trying to find reprieve, but there are mirrors everywhere. Why did I bring them all with me when I moved? Having reached my limit, I collapse, my back slamming into the ground. The vomit-covered ground. I puke again. I thought I was completely empty, but I guess not.

It is not even the fact that I was lying in vomit that made me spill the last contents of my stomach. It is the wetness on my back and the feeling of laying in this puddle, just like when I lay in the pool of Raputin's blood. It flashes in my mind, all of it, and I can't escape it. His lifeless eyes. The wound slowly opening along his neck like a sickening smile. The cascading fountain of lifeblood emptying its vessel. It's in my mind like a festering wound.

I close my eyes tight, but it doesn't help. I can see it with even more clarity now. It's there, and it refuses to leave. I roll to my left, out of the vomit, with my eyes still close. I work. I work myself to my feet, and then I start to rapidly pull my robes off, explicitly not thinking about it or its colour. Finally pulling it off, I throw it in a direction where I know my kitchen counter is and hope that it lands behind it.

Staying still, I turn around from where I threw it, not willing to risk it when I open my eyes. Before I do open my eyes, I take the chance to employ my Occlumency. I calm myself as best I can, not having any experience doing this before but too desperate to not try it. It takes a while, but I manage to do it. I don't suppress any of it, having learnt my lesson from the last debacle, but I simply separate it from myself. A partition between it and the rest of myself, keeping it somewhat at bay so I don't think of it so much and give myself some respite.

Taking a deep breath and calming myself, I find myself able to think clearly without being overwhelmed by... that. Shaking my head to quickly stop myself from going there, I open my eyes, and to my relief, nothing happens. I am fine. Shit, that fucked up version of me was right. That was traumatising for me, and he made it worse by just staying there and letting it fall onto him without complaint.

That callous motherfucker. He made it worse because he didn't even flinch at it or anything. He just watched it happen with apathy and mild curiosity. I still remember it because I have the memory of doing it myself. I watched it with interest. It's sick. I am going to have to figure out a way to deal with this and soon. Even now, it is on the fringes of my mind, refusing to let me be.

Sighing, I turn around, wanting to just go to sleep for the night and forget this entire day happened. As I turn, my eye glimpses my couch which is- I dry heave at the sight of my red sofa, and I collapse to my knees. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is just too much for me. It's fucked up. I can't handle it. Fuck, I never thought I would see such a thing. Well, I knew I would probably be killing some people, but I always just thought that it would be a flash of light and they would go down, never so up close and personal.

I continually dry heave. I don't know for how long, and bile keeps sputtering out. I clench my eyes close tight as if that would help, and my forehead touches the wooden floor as I grasp at my own stomach. I- I can't live with this. I need to deal with this right now, right here. This is something I can't ignore or just push to the side, and it isn't going to get better with time.

Shit, if it does, it will take years, and I don't have years. I am going to be within spitting distance of a fucking Basilisk soon, and I can't freeze up and choke whenever I see the colour red. Gryffindors will be the end of me. Especially that little twat Ron. Fuck, I am getting irritated. I don't know what to fucking do because I can't go on like this. I need to solve this right now, but I can't just remove it from my mind. I just saw one of the possible things that can go wrong when you mess with your mind and remove things...

But I can add things with precautions and preparation. But I don't have time for that right now, but I can see anything I have ever done with crystal clear clarity. That is part of the fucking reason I am so fucked up right now. But, with my crystal clear memory, I am recalling something from my last life. Humans are the most adaptive creatures to ever exist. They can adapt to anything, and they can become desensitised to anything given enough exposure.

It might seem like a stupid idea, but I don't have anything else to help me right now. Exposure therapy. The more you are exposed to something, the less you are affected by it, like a scary movie. The first time, you will be scared by all the jumpscares and twists. But the second, you can recall them and are prepared for it. And then, by the tenth time, it doesn't scare you at all.

I can't remove it from my mind. I can't add anything to my mind at this point. All I have is what is in my mind right now. And this is the only way I can see. This memory is going to stay with me. It is not going to go away. So the best thing I can do is accept it and learn to live with it. Which means I have to see it again. Not the most ideal solution and there are bound to be consequences, but I don't care. I am doing this. I need to.

Using my Occlumency, I go into my mind and find the memory. Knowing if I do this all manually, I will bail and run away before the first run-through is even done, I take precautions. I work to automate it. To keep it going until it doesn't bother me anymore. I can't take myself out until I am. I will probably become a bit of a sociopath, but that is fine. The current me is not made for this world. This will be a trial. A baptism by fire. And when I come out the other end, I will be all the better for it.

And then there I am on the ground. The slit opens. The lifeless eyes. The blood pours out. My face is drenched. The smell. The taste. Everything, as if for the first time. I can't move. I can't change anything. All I can do is watch and experience. I shove the body off of me. I wipe my face clean with my hands. I get up. I find my wand. I clean myself.

And then I am back on the ground, staring up into those lifeless eyes. Again, the sickening smile starts to appear beneath the chin, and I find myself regretting my decision. But it is too late. I am locked in now. And there is no going back.

How many times will I have to see this?

[AN: If my Fic ends with the main character being the exact same person he was in chapter one, then I haven't done my job properly. Shit happens. Things change. You have to roll with the punches.]