Blackmail

The voices exploded in his mind as he sat on his throne, brooding on his next plans. "Good morning, Tom Riddle," they said; and his whole body jerked. "We hear you had someone killed last night."

The voices were familiar; and if he had been able to pay attention, he would have identified them immediately. But just as his mind was turning to them, something else happened - something else that should not have been happening. His body got up from his throne and walked; and it was not his own mind that was driving it.

"One of us you once possessed, Tom," the voices went on relentlessly, "and one of us you tortured... more than once. We have been able to study those experiences, learn what you did, make use of them." Voldemort's body staggered in one direction, and his mind started grasping what was intended for him. It struggled desperately to free itself.

"We know you could free yourself in time, Tom. You are in your stronghold, surrounded by your servants and your tools of power. But you see, you do not have time." And the body leaped straight into the huge fire that burned in the monumental marble fireplace that dominated the wall opposite his throne.

The pain was indescribable, made worse by the ingrained fear of death. Rationally, Voldemort knew that he could not be killed so long as his Horcruces were hidden and safe; but his human nature still instinctively saw fire as the ultimate destroyer, and the destruction of his flesh as the destruction of everything. Voldemort screamed as he had never screamed before, not just in pain, but in terror.

Suddenly he was out of the fire. Wild magic, without conscious control, had driven his body out of the fire, and roughly healed the worst injuries. And for a second, he felt his mind free from alien presences. Then the voices spoke again.

"From now on, Tom, and until our final battle, you will not kill anyone. If you do, each time you do, we shall do something to inflict on you such pain as to make you regret you ever did. Don't think we shall restrict ourselves to fire; you know as well as anyone how many ways there are to devastate a body or wreck a nervous system....

"I trust we understand each other, Tom," said the voices mockingly, and withdrew. And now he had had a second, he knew who they were - knew them, indeed, better than anyone else in the world. For they were minds he had once entered.

...............................................................................................

In a quiet forest clearing near Hogwarts, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley lay back in exhaustion and looked at each other. Both were not just weary but haunted, scared at what they had done, and feeling both guilt and horror.

"I hope he doesn't call our bluff," said Ginny in a small voice.

"Frankly, Ginny," answered Harry, "I don't think it should be a bluff. If he ever murders someone again, we'll have to do it, and do something really dreadful - inflict Cruciatus on him at his own hands, throw him off a cliff. Whatever. I know it hurts..."

"What do you think, sir?" asked Ginny to the third person in the clearing.

"I think you stand a good chance of getting away with it," answered Severus Snape. "The Dark Lord is a coward at heart, and the prospect of punishment equal to, or worse than, what you just inflicted on him, should hold him back for a while. Of course, he will redouble his efforts to reach and kill you both."

"Mh mh," muttered Harry, nodding, as Ginny said: "Well, we gave him reason enough."

"You must however never dismiss the chance that he might decide to defy you. To be stopped from killing, after all, would be a serious hindrance for him. He might just consider that even violent pain is preferable. Or he might take steps to make himself so used to it that the worst you can do does not affect him." Harry and Ginny understood Snape's words, and both shuddered. "The point is that you must be prepared to strike again, without softness."

"That's what I said from the beginning, Ginny," added Harry. "I am sorry, really I am, I'd have done anything to keep you out of this -" the affectionate tone turned Severus Snape's stomach - "but this is war, and this is what you asked in. It's horrible and revolting, and I can't make it better... Not even for you."

"You do realize, Miss Weasley," said Severus Snape, "that you have changed your whole position in this war? You have just gone from one of many potential targets to the Dark Lord's private enemy number three. Perhaps even number two, depending on how much he values your ability to hold him back as compared to Dumbledore's."

"That doesn't bother me," said Ginny. "He is my own enemy number one and always has been. I'll never want to live for a minute in a world ruled by Voldemort, and neither would any of my family. To me, it was always win or die.

"That," she went on, placing one slim finger across Harry's lips "is what this great lug who calls himself my boyfriend will have to understand. You can't keep me back from my own battle, Harry. It's as much mine as yours. And apart that I hate Voldie as much as you do, d' you imagine for a second I'd want to live if you died?" And Severus Snape, knowing what was about to happen, turned and left them to it. Not only did he not want to witness their effusions, but he would rather be thrown alive into Voldemort's fire than feel again the memories brought back by seeing James Potter's son in the arms of a beautiful red-haired girl.