Savior of Darkness

Chapter 6: Interactions

"He´s busy right now!" Snape snapped.

Barging could be heard heading towards the door. Hearing it, Dumbledore gave me an apologetic glance. Still, his voice was almost relieved as he called out, "It´s alright, Severus. Come in, Hagrid."

At that moment a pause ensued, before Hagrid was heard to say, "Excuse me, Professor. You heard the Headmaster." He and Snape then entered the room.

The man was gigantic, wearing woolskin clothing. His long hair and beard were ragged and matted with dirt, and the look in his eyes seemed a bit unhinged. They appeared to focus a bit though once they rested on Dumbledore. He smiled and humbly approached him, holding his hands before him. "I just wanted to say thank you, Headmaster. I know I wouldn´t have been let out without..."

His voice trailed off as he noticed me. His eyes grew wide and began backing away.

Dumbledore quickly jumped in. "As you no doubt can tell, Tom, you did know Hagrid as well. Hagrid, Tom here has been Obliviated. He has almost no memory."

"Almost?" both Snape and Hagrid spoke in unison. They all began speaking at the same time. I tried to sort it out, but my eyelids and limbs felt like lead. That short session with Dumbledore had taken the last of what strength I had. That combined with the warm room and soft couch was making just staying conscious a battle. My mind desperately wanted a reprieve from the nonstop colliding of thoughts.

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"Gentlemen, please." Dumbledore´s voice rose above Hagrid´s and his squabbling. Honestly, could the giant git have made a more obvious reaction? Severus didn´t think so. But he quieted as Dumbledore continued.

"Hagrid, it is good to see you." Dumbledore shared a smile with his friend. "Hogwarts wouldn´t be the same without its Keeper. And however indirectly, you might have Tom to thank for that."

Hagrid looked like he´d swallowed a slug. "He almost got me sent to Azkaban in the first place!"

"Yes, but he doesn´t remember doing that." Dumbledore´s voice was low. He glanced over at Tom, who sat still. It was evident he was forcing himself not to curl back up on the couch. He gripped the sides of the mattress and had his eyes rigidly fixed open on the floor right before him.

Snape followed his gaze, but with much less sympathy. After all, Tom had kept him up all last night. "Are you sure he doesn´t remember?"

"Quite sure, Severus." Dumbledore drew his gaze back to him. "He was far too eager to begin to work on regaining his memory. I believe that was genuine."

"You believe a lot, Headmaster," Severus added. As usual, Dumbledore was immune to his glibness. Feeling a bit embarrassed for his behavior, Snape apologized by changing the subject. "What does he remember, then?"

"Me." Dumbledore smiled grimly at the look Severus and Hagrid shot him. "Only that I was his teacher here."

"So he remembers going here. Doesn´t recall hoisting the blame of murder onto an innocent peer at all, does he?" Hagrid asked with a trace of bitterness.

~Good one~ Snape thought. Out loud he said, "So what is the plan, Headmaster? I´ve never heard of anyone regaining any memory this quickly. At this rate, it could only take weeks."

"It´s a bit worse than that," Dumbledore said softly. "Tom had some sort of fit. He told me that during the attack he heard something pushing within him to remember. He assumed that it was his own consciousness, which it very well may be." He acknowledged Severus´s skeptical smirk. "It is hard to tell just yet what is going on. But he was frightened, I could tell. He didn´t tell me, but I think that there was more to that voice telling him to remember than he told me. What it was, his subconscious or not, I cannot say."

"So he´s already keeping things secret. Wonderful. Doesn´t that hint to you that this might not be a good idea?" Snape asked in exasperation.

Dumbledore looked at him steely. "No, Severus. It tells me that he is scared, and doesn´t trust us enough to let us know. We need to get him to trust us. That is why I didn´t push it."

"And you think that we can do that before his memory comes back?" Snape asked skeptically.

"I think we need to try. I´ll try to think of anything that might have caused the voice. McGonagall is going to start work with him tomorrow." Dumbledore looked into Snape and asked softly, seriously, "Severus, can you handle being a part of this?"

Could he handle it. Could he handle helping the reincarnation of the thing that had lured him into darkness? The creature that had all but sucked his soul dry, fed off of his insecurities and laughed at what little heart he had left. The thing that had lied to him, playing off his every hate, his every love, twisting every idea, wish, and belief that he had held. The being that had made is seem okay, even for a second, to take another´s life. To torture another and grind their screams for mercy into a meal to nurture himself. Albus knew of the things that he had done. But he did not know how that creature had taught him to love it, lust for it.

It haunted him, his deeds. Every second of every day. How easily he had been manipulated. Wondering how deep the blackness of his own heart went for him to have been capable of such acts. To feel that others deserved the torture. Hell, didn´t he feel that very creature deserved such torture now? His struggle back from the soulless abyss that he had jumped into with the creature´s nudging had nearly broken him in itself. His guilt never had reprieved, and now it had taken form and shape. It had a voice, it moved, it felt, it smelled. It breathed and looked at him, stared through him with eyes that held some semblance of innocence. A visual struggle of past and present. And he was expected to help it, to keep it from the misery it had subjected him to. All because it wasn´t that unleashed hell that had burned itself into him like he was cattle, like he was a pleasure trophy. Not yet.

"I can do it, Headmaster."

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"Tom?" Dumbledore´s voice was soft. I slowly raised my eyes, and he came into focus even slower. Snape was behind him. The other one, Hagrid, must have left.

"Are we going to continue?" I hoped the words sounded less groggy to them than they did in my ears.

Dumbledore laughed slightly and said, "I think Severus wishes to retire. Since you are to stay with him, what say we resume tomorrow? Minerva will see you first."

I felt disappointed, though I doubted I could have accomplished much more tonight. Still, who would have known, had that giant Hagrid not barged in. I kept that idea to myself as I stood up slowly. I was determined not to require assistance.

Snape was silent as we walked out of Dumbledore´s rooms. The staircase down made me dizzy, and I closed my eyes and rested a hand against the wall.

"Are you ill?" Snape´s voice was gruff.

I shook my head slowly. "Dizzy."

"It´s almost over." His voice was neutral. I couldn´t tell if it was concern or if he was just making conversation. Once grounded, we walked through the halls. I managed the stairs down to the dungeon without holding on, a moment of pride since Snape was watching carefully.

His rooms were freezing, as always. Unfortunately, I had forgotten the bag with the other clothes in Dumbledore´s rooms. I shivered unconsciously as he motioned me over to the couch. I sat and immediately wrapped my arms around myself.

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~He´s cold ~ Snape realized. His first thought was, naturally, ~good. ~ It was always cold in dungeons. He should get used to that.

Sighing, he tossed him a blanket. "Here."

He caught it but didn´t use it. Snape´s temper flared. "It doesn´t get any nicer than that, so I´d use it if I were you. Or freeze."

"I suppose you´re going to sleep now," was the answer he got.

"That was the general idea. How brilliant you are proving yourself to be." He saw Tom merely look down. Trying to control his nerves, he said through clenched teeth, "You can shower in the morning. Sleep well."

He saw a slight smile at that. Tom began to settle back, saying so softly it was hard to tell if he was supposed to hear it or not. "I doubt that´ll happen."

"Well, try." Snape snapped.

At that Tom glanced over at him, his crystalline blue eyes emitting nothing. "Did I do something to you?"

Freezing at that, an icy grip wrapping itself around his insides, Snape coughed out, "Why would you say that?"

Shrugging without breaking his glance, Tom offered, "You seem upset."

"I´m tired," Snape said coldly, drawing behind his stone façade. "In case you haven´t processed, this hasn´t been the easiest few weeks."

"Yes, I understand some students were harmed. What happened to them? I thought someone said they were going to be fine." Tom asked.

"They are. But it´s none of your concern. Now go to sleep." Snape pointed his wand at the candles, ready to blow them out.

"It must be difficult for you." Tom´s low voice made him turn and face him again as he continued. "Being a teacher, I mean. And seeing those you are responsible for, those who have faith in you, being harmed while you remain helpless." His eyes drifted a bit as he finished quietly, "Being helpless must be terrifying."

"...I can think of worse things." Snape managed after an interminable silence.

"Such as?" Tom snapped his eyes back.

"Things you should pray you never comprehend." ~For all our sakes~ Snape turned abruptly then, extinguishing the lights. Only the faint hue of blue where Tom´s catlike gaze had settled had a residual remain.

Eventually the blue dimmed as Tom closed his eyes, and Snape settled down in his chair aside the sofa. Yet sleep wouldn´t blissfully overtake him. His eyes kept being drawn to Tom, who shifted restlessly. Every time he seemed about to drift, every time his brow smoothed into soft submission, a part of him seemed to fight back to consciousness. Or something brought him back from peace. A clenched hand or spasm would rack him, and he would turn in frustration.

Snape´s eyes narrowed. Part of him wanted to wake Tom, but it was almost fascinating, sort of enjoyable really, to see the struggle. And so he remained, awake and watching him, until the clock released the signal of morning.

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Minerva sat in her classroom, waiting for Severus to bring Tom to her. Dumbledore had told her that he was afraid about how Snape was dealing with Tom. Indeed, the whole situation of having Tom here was like an inevitable time bomb and no one knew when it was magicked to go off.

She didn´t have any real personal dealings with Tom Riddle. He had graduated from Hogwarts two years ahead of her. Similar to the Hogwarts of today, she had remained mostly with her fellow Gryffindors, only knowing him as the elder Slytherin Prefect and then Head Boy. Minerva smiled slightly, remembering the schoolboy Tom. He had been one of the few Slytherins tolerable to most, probably because he was hard to pigeonhole as just another Slytherin. He was Tom Riddle, top of every class, charming and polite at times and yet somehow always distantly aloof. It was hard to not have been impressed by him. Indeed, it was only when he got Hagrid expelled...Minerva shook her head at the memory. Hagrid had been in her year at school, and while they had never been close she knew what a true and deep heart he had. How could someone as observant and sharp as Tom really think that Hagrid had been the Heir? She had confided as much to Dumbledore back then, and earned his lifelong friendship. Yet ever since that fateful event back in third year, she developed a caution around Tom Riddle.

And the years had passed, as the reign of darkness fell. She had joined the resistance against the Dark Lord, losing many treasured friends and family to his cruelty. He had made her question her position within the fight against him, as if all the torment brought on those she loved was her fault for defying him. To think that anyone was capable of making her question whether it was right to fight against such terror...she had hated herself as much as him at times. And then a few, a precious few, found out that the Dark Lord Voldemort was the same as the boy Tom Riddle.

The past had certainly haunted her when she returned to teach here. Back at the school where the young Prefect Tom had once let her off for running through the halls because she was late for class with Dumbledore. Back where Dumbledore had defeated one Dark Lord, while another rose right under their own gazes. Where a past that had once warmed her heart and inspired her now invoked nothing but fear and disgust. Where the very palpable past was now pulsing before her.

Snape had just entered, followed by Tom. He was dressed in clothes that must have been Cedric´s. The gray pants and blue shirt were not only much too loose on his thinner frame, but they were also far more casual than any she had ever seen on Tom. Her memory of him was in crisp clothing with gleaming shoes and pressed robes. Someone had told her once that he had looked pretty raggedy when he first came to Hogwarts, but Minerva couldn´t have imagined it. But there he was, looking far less like the polished image she remembered.

Standing, she nodded to Snape. "Good morning, Severus. Tom."

"Morning, Professor McGonagall," Snape batted back formally. He appeared just as rumbled as Tom, his face even pastier than usual. He seemed anxious to dispose of Tom. Retreating quickly, he said, "See you this afternoon," before exiting the classroom.

Tom stood there quietly, looking at her expectantly to take the lead. After all, she was in the position of authority here, she reminded herself. Back in school there had been talk about how Tom treated the teachers. How he showed respect, even when he had surpassed them in cases. Then she had admired his consideration. Now she questioned his sincerity. "Please sit down, Mr. Riddle," she said.

He did so, in the seat directly in front of her desk. His hands clasped on the desk, he sat straight, eyes locked intensely on her. They betrayed nothing in their gaze.

Taking a deep breath, she began calmly. "How did your night go, Tom?"

"Fine, thank you," he responded automatically. It had been fairly obvious when he and Severus had entered that this was not the case. But no doubt Severus was debriefing the Dumbledore the events right now. She pressed on.

"What I would like to begin with, Tom, is a bit basic. Just some history." She waited for him to nod before continuing. "Not about your history specifically, Dumbledore is taking care of that. I thought that we might start broader. History in general, and then maybe the history of magic. It´s foundational theories, if you will."

"I am not really in a position to say no, am I?" Tom asked amicably, but Minerva was on her guard. She wasn´t going to take anything Tom Riddle told her lightly.

"Are you saying that you don´t feel you have any choices?" She asked him.

If he was taken aback it could only be detected in his slight pause. "Do I?" He finally asked.

Minerva sighed, sitting back. "Well, one always has choices. Yours are a bit limited right now, but I assure you that if you wish to regain your memory properly, this is the best place."

"It just seems strange, to do it at a school and not a hospital." Tom replied, casually fishing.

"Do you want to go to a hospital?" She asked back.

Tom shook his head. "I didn´t say that. I just said that it seemed odd." He eyed her carefully. "Doesn´t it seem so to you?"

Minerva hesitated. She was used to students grilling her about school, but her personal opinions were a new area. "Not...really. You see, Tom, you have a...history and a condition that is quite complex. Please trust us, you will do better to remember here."

"Because my history is tied to here, you mean?"

"What makes you say that?" Minerva fought to keep her mouth closed from gaping.

Tom just shrugged. "It would make sense, that a place that contains a great deal of memories would be useful in recovering such memories. And I know so many people here, though I can´t remember them." He gazed at her with a look of concentrated study. "You seem too young to have taught me, as does Professor Snape and that...large man Hagrid."

"Yes, well, that is what Professor Dumbledore is going to go over," Minerva cut in quickly. "Lets go on to History, shall we?"

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I really can´t recount the amount of hours we spent that morning and afternoon going over ancient history. I asked her once why there was no magic in any of the history we were covering, and she had replied that all history was one, even that which did not contain magic. So we continued to study the history of humankind as they created fire and tools and civilizations and decay. We only got a few hundred years into the history when she decided to switch.

Dropping her glasses, she rubbed her forehead and asked if I had any other questions.

Looking down I thought of one. "Can I keep these books to read at night? Then I´ll be ahead for tomorrow." It would go much faster if I could have had some privacy.

She paused at that before saying, "I´ll run it by Headmaster Dumbledore. Anything else?"

Sitting back, I raised my arms up in a stretch before unconsciously clasping my hands together and cracking my knuckles.

"Don´t do that," McGonagall sharply said in an automotive response.

I immediately dropped my hands as she gave a faint blush. "I´m sorry," I said.

She shook her head. "No, no, it´s alright. A lot of my students do that. Terrible habit. I try to break them of it."

"I see. It must be an annoying habit. Was it one of mine?" I asked.

Again she seemed to withdraw. "I---I suppose you did it on occasion. Now, onto the theory of magic..." She proceeded to pull out another book and flip it open.

I straightened up at that. The word magic filled me with renewed energy, and I grasped every syllable she said. "The foundation of magic is order. We live in a fractured, mysterious world, one in which the search for meaning and organization is integral to us as sentient beings. Magic presupposes a unity, a oneness that connects things and enables energy to be drawn from and transformed." She finished reading and turned to me. "What does that mean to you?"

"That we find meaning in control." I replied. When she blanched I added, "We look at things as other than us, with wonder, and we desire to know them. To know them and to figure out or give them meaning and organization is to dominate. To dominate is to control. Am I not right?"

"Yes. No. Well, yes and no," She began. "Yes, that is part of us. But beneath that is the knowledge of the unity we seek. Order and understanding give rise to respect and care. That is the foundation of magic."

I nodded slowly. "I see. But how are you certain that it is the care that underlies the magic, and not the desire to control?" I gave her an open answer. "I only ask to learn."

"No, it´s alright Tom. Many have...raised the same question. All that I can say is that rarely good has come out of control, as opposed to care." Minerva said softly.

~Caring sure didn´t seem to save Percy´s sister~I thought. But I knew from her look that I had better not repeat that out loud. Instead I replied, "I see, Professor. That makes sense."

We finished up soon after that. I had a terrible headache again, probably from not sleeping in two days. McGonagall took me to the hospital wing, saying she would send dinner for me there. Dumbledore or Snape would come for me soon. She had a word with the nurse that I couldn´t hear, and then left.

The nurse approached me with a tentative smile on her face. "Hello, Tom. I´m Madame Pomfrey. I hear we have a bit of a headache."

"Oh, we sure do," I replied dryly. She caught none of that and whisked me onto a bed.

"I have just the thing. Won´t be a moment." She hurried off. I rolled my eyes and sank back before realizing that I wasn´t alone. The black haired boy I had met the other day, with the glasses, was sitting beside a bed. The curtains were drawn so that I couldn´t see the person laying down no matter how I craned my neck.

Finally giving up, I just called out to him. "Harry, right?"

He spun and his eyes widened when he saw me. "Tom? Are you alright?" He left his seat and came over.

"Just wonderful. And yourself?" I asked.

"I was... keeping a friend company." He said awkwardly.

He was so perturbed I couldn´t help but be amused. "A pretty little friend?"

He flushed at that. "NO! No, it´s nothing like that. And...and don´t talk so loud, he´ll overhear you." With that he nodded to another bed across the hall, where Mr. Malfoy´s son was laying.

Harry continued, with dislike plainly painted on his face. "He got himself wacked with a broom during Quidditch practice. With his dad there and everything... everyone said his broom just went crazy making him fall off, but he isn´t that good a flyer anyway."

"Indeed." I replied, not really caring. All I could think was the coincidence that in my few moments of unsupervised spare time, a Malfoy was always present. But Harry prattled on, until the Malfoy boy, Draco, that was his name, began to shift.

Moaning, with a glare underneath a welt on his head, he cracked out, "Oh, shut up. Not everyone likes to hear about or from the famous Harry Potter."