The Broken Victory

I spent the summer at Hogwarts again, though time revolved differently this time around. I no longer looked forward to the next month that would bring new classes. Rather, every second I only yearned for the dark edge of night to befall. While cleaning up the gardens with Wynn, I took note of what supplies I might find. During stacking books for Dippet or experimenting with Zwipp, I located every trick or spell I had not yet tried. And then, finally, the shadows of evening would fall. Dippet would retire first, followed by Zwipp, though he sometimes liked to go to his lab in the middle of the night. Dumbledore stayed up the latest, playing chess or wandering the halls talking with the ghosts. And I would wait.

When the last ray of light had sunk, I would creep off my bed and follow the chilled hallways to my sanctuary. My steps echoed in my ears, a hollow sound that became more rapid the closer I got. The bathroom itself no longer looked pitiful and misused. Rather it had an ancient beauty, holding such secrets that I was amazed no one else picked it up in the scent of air. It smelled differently here. The perfume of comfort and belonging would envelop my lungs as the ground before me opened. And there below, everything in it was mine.

I had never had a present before. Presents are given when one is appreciated. When one belongs and is desired and thanked for existing. But now I had all of that.

My grandfather wanted me. No, it was not simple want. He wanted me and knew I was to exist. He knew my destiny was intertwined with his, and he not only accepted that, he planned on it. I had proven myself and let his blood eradicate whatever plague my father had added. Salazar had counted on my being able to do that when he had made the Chamber all those years ago. He knew I was to come, and he had made preparations for my homecoming. Now I was welcomed into it. Not as Tom Riddle, but as the Slytherin I had made myself. Salazar had made himself, and I would do the same. I would become his worthy heir and carry out his legacy. I would bring Lord Voldemort to life.

I practiced every night, every spell I could find, and some I created myself. I practiced on rats, insects, whatever I could pick out of the garden or forest. The Basilisk watched me, yellow eyes shining brightly. Eyes that only I could see. She would look in my eyes with the soul lust to do what I said. Our goal was the same. ~Soon~ I promised her.

There in the Chamber, my voice echoed up the stone walls, tinny, cold and hard. It sounded strange, and I sang out at times, just to hear the difference. The sound of my voice had gained strength and edge, both from age and confidence. It would sound low and melodious or hard as ice, depending on my whim. Each nuanced tone could have a different effect on spells. I learned how to control that. I learned how to control each and every spell when I was sick, when I was exhausted, when I was infuriated and frustrated or calmly content. I learned I could control it all.

I was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall one night when school was about to begin. The plan for the new school year was always clinging to my consciousness. I was impatiently watching the fake sunset in the magicked ceiling when a voice pierced my thoughts.

"Pardon?" I turned to find Dumbledore standing beside me and groaned internally. Since his accident we had kept a respected distance, but his eye was always about me lately. I finally found out why.

"Are you feeling well, Tom?" Dumbledore asked slowly.

I nodded with a wide smile. "Yes, sir. Wonderful. You?"

"Oh, I'm fine. It's just that your eyes looked a little red." Dumbledore's voice carried a bit too much weight for my liking.

I thought quickly. "Just tired, sir. Lots of school planning has to be done. Hazard of being a prefect, I suppose."

Dumbledore looked suspicious, but relented. "They actually seem a lot clearer than they were a second ago. Odd."

I shrugged. So what if my eyes were bloodshot? He seemed to be making too much out of this, even for him. "I have a cold, sir. It comes and goes."

"Perhaps you should see Madame Drawt." He offered a small smile to me at that. "We cannot have one of our prefects not up to snuff."

"Right, sir. I'll get on that. Better turn in early as well. Goodnight." I stood and left the dining hall. I made my way down into the dungeon. The Slytherin rooms were quiet and cold, as always. I entered the bathroom and studied myself in the mirror. I didn't think I looked any more tired than usual. I squinted, and still couldn't figure out what redness could have caused Dumbledore such alarm. I finally shrugged, and walked out into the bedroom. Maybe I was just getting too used to seeing myself spent. I had been spending every night in the Chamber. I couldn't remember sleeping in days. I made a mental note to pick up some more pepper-up potion from Drawt's cabinets.

As I left the room I noticed Snicks curled on my bed. He hissed a soft greeting, which I returned. After a moment's hesitation I asked him, "Do you notice anything funny looking about me?"

"Thatsss too easy," Snicks hissed back. Then seeing I was serious, he flipped his tongue and responded, "No, not that I can tell."

I frowned. "Alright, thanks." I turned to go when Snicks hissed a request to join me. I shrugged and waited for him to crawl up my shoulder before we descended into my Chamber. Upon entering I stood transfixed again, as I had for so many hours in quiet enchantment.

Mere words cannot describe it, so I made the promise to myself never to try. Not that I would ever share this secret with anyone. It was too precious, too hard won for any to possibly properly appreciate it. So in that sense, words would not be necessary.

No, none could appreciate this. Certainly not any of the Mudbloods who didn't realize how cursed they were. They would never be able to fight against what they were, like I had. Worse, they had no desire to. They looked down on purebloods, looked down on Slytherin. On my ancestry. No, Muggles had never given me anything but the shame and revulsion to have ever existed with them. Now that I had overcome that, I could put the shame to rest and prove my worth. Soon.

The other Slytherins couldn't fathom the potential of the Chamber either. The legacy that vibrated underneath the rock, the sweat and blood and hatred and soul and unbinding passion and retribution that cried out to me. The years of dust caught onto my robes, each grain a piece of a story that unfolded as I grew in strength. No one could have understood, have born the anguish and harnessed it. Only the Heir. I was beyond them in ways that paled classroom marks and silly facts into oblivion.

The mere presence of the Chamber empowered my being. I could feel the very blood in my veins become cleansed, pure. I could practice whatever I wanted, as long as I wanted. There was no master in the Chamber but me. No mention of Muggles, no notions of right or rules or shame or guilt. There was nothing but the power to behold, to control and know. It was pure, and it was beautiful and exciting. And it was within me. And soon, they would all know it. I would prove it to them, just as Salazar had done. Only I would succeed.

"Tom?" The sound of the word, the way it rolls off the roof of one's mouth, with the dull click of the tongue against the back of the salivated teeth sent shivers of bile through me.

"That name does not exist here." I could not say it didn't have meaning. It had been the constant plague on my seed, had helped me see clearly what I was against. What had kept me from my heritage for so long, what I had had to prove myself against. It embodied everything I reviled. It was a name I would not speak in my family Chamber. Just as I would make the Toms of the world never be able to speak my name in their safe, warm homes someday.

"I am Lord Voldemort." I turned to face Snicks, his hissing becoming rattled.

Sliding back against the shadowed cave, he hissed a choking reply. "Tom...you asssked about your lookssss. There isss ssssomething wrong.... Ssssomething very wrong..."

"What are you talking about?"

"Tom...your eyessss...."

"What?"

Snicks' yellow eyes burned fear into my face. "They...are red....your eyes...are bleeding...."

"What?" I turned from him, placing a fingertip up to my face. My trembling finger came away with a drop of blood, striking against the pale skin. My heart almost stopped, and I turned to race out of the Chamber when I heard her.

~Do not fear.~

I turned to her, my beautiful gift. She was brilliant, a shining, green Basilisk seeming miles long, with eyes that glowed brighter than stars and with more depth than Hufflepuffs. Slowly I approached her. ~What is happening to me?~

~You are being purified.~

~Purified?~

~Your body is being purged of all that has infected your blood, your body, your soul. Being perfected in the image worthy of Salazar.~

~But how?~

~By your mere thoughts, now. The awakening of Salazar in your blood has begun. The more you focus on your heritage, on your role, the more you become it.~

~But...~

~The bleeding will not continue forever. Once you have rid yourself of all weaknesses, no blood will flow. The blood will only rest in your eyes, the windows to the world of your connection as the Heir. Whenever your will commands it, the blood will flow, and your connection to your power will rise. Power is from within and rises out. It is in your blood.~

Salazar had given me the blood. I had made myself the will. I was ready to let them flow over the world.

The new school year started on a bleak day. I was glad that I was already at Hogwarts and did not have to suffer the train ride in the rain. Instead, I set up the Great Hall with Wynn and Pr. Vallandora.

"So, Tom, you're a prefect this year. Who would have guessed?" Vallandora teased me as she floated some ribbons to the ceiling. Dippet thought making a grander opening service might reduce some of the fears in the new students over being separated from their parents during such a trying time. Grindelwald had claimed most of Austria, and France was the next target.

"Yes, ma'am. It should be an exciting challenge." My mind was still on Grindelwald. I wondered if any other professors would leave to join the resistance. I wasn't lucky enough for Dumbledore to go. Zwipp felt he was doing more good by nurturing the future generation of the resistance. I personally thought he was just protecting himself, but who could blame him? And Binns...well, that man was just an inch away from death. I wondered if I would notice if he did die during a lecture. He was so dull it would be hard to tell.

Vallandora must have been thinking of Grindelwald as well, though more than likely in a different context. She seemed sad as she magicked another plant to change colors to match the Gryffindor table. "It's good you expect it to be a challenge, Tom. With the way things are, those poor children are going to be so worried about their families and Grindelwald, on top of adjusting to a new environment."

"I assure you, I already have plans to distract them. I've been working on it all summer." I smiled at her.

She grinned back and patted my shoulder. "I know you have, Tom. I expected nothing less from you."

"And not just for Slytherin. I want to get the whole school involved." Wynn motioned for me to help him move a table the Muggle way. I gritted my teeth and followed suit, though why he didn't just let Vallandora and I do it more efficiently I will never know.

"Oh, I think that's a brilliant idea. Dumbledore will love it." Vallandora's eyes lit up with pleasure.

"You think? I am hoping he will appreciate it. Especially when it's implemented."

Vallandora, waving the last of the flowers a shining gold, replied, "Oh, I'm sure he will. I won't ask what it is, though. I want it to be a surprise."

"I shall do my best." And with a humble glance, I helped Wynn clear the last debris as we heard the new class approach.

~*~

"Thomas, how horribly unchivalrous of you to leave me alone on the train! As a prefect, I couldn't very well talk to those who aren't a prefect on the train; it isn't tradition. And the rest of the prefects are prats. I was horribly bored." If you couldn't tell, the other new Slytherin prefect was Sammy. We were now seated in the Great Hall, waiting for the Sorting to be over.

"Is there any reason I can give you that you'll accept?" I asked.

She folded her arms. "Absolutely none."

"Fine. Then I guess I just can apologize." I gave her one of the silver flowers that floated in vases all across the table.

She took it and immediately discarded it, saying, "Good, I was hoping you'd apologize because I have some incredible news I desperately wanted to tell you. I would have told you on the train, but..."

"I said I was sorry."

"Already forgotten. I just like to hear men apologize."

"How Rosie the Riveter of you." I had to smile though. I was in good enough spirits to find her amusing rather than tiresome right now.

"Slogan for women's labor movement this year in Mudblood-town. Ha, thought I wouldn't know that one." She sounded smug.

"Not really. It's been in the wizard world newspapers, too. Since Grindelwald started moving in on Muggles and with their own eugenic war going on, Muggle stories have been creeping into our papers. Still, a worthy effort." I saluted her with my glass.

"My father charms all stories about Muggles out the paper, so he won't have to read it and be sick, he says. So it wasn't that easy to get a hold of the news." She was defensively raising her voice.

"Ah, now I understand. That was quite an accomplishment over the summer then. And it's good that you did. All history is important to know."

"I think so. I'm glad you agree." Her eyes were alight with herself.

"Absolutely. Now, the news?" I leaned over, trying to get her back on track. The Sorting was almost over, and then we would have to get back to work.

"Oh, right." She leaned over and began to whisper conspiratorially, "There's a secret order being implemented against Grindelwald."

"Obviously not so secret," I said.

"Shut up. Anyway, I only know because I eavesdropped on my father during one of his meetings. A mole of Grindelwald's found out about it, and it's called The Phoenix Order or something like that."

"Something like that."

"I couldn't hear properly."

"You should have used an audible charm. Just for reference, for you in the future. Please go on."

"Well, you'll never guess who's pretty much in charge of it."

"Dumbledore."

"How'd you know? You take the fun out of everything."

"I'm sorry. He has a phoenix. Was I really right? How uncreative. Rather obvious and stupid if you ask me."

Her voice dropped lower as we got a few glances. "Well, I'm not sure about the details. Only that there is an order against Grindelwald, and Dumbledore is a key player."

"And yet he remains here." My mind was reeling.

"I wondered the same thing, but then I figured it out." She pointed at me. "You."

I was taken aback for a moment. "Me?"

"Come on, Thomas!" She began to count off on her fingers. "Grindelwald talked to you. He tried to recruit you. Hell, he tried to kill you. That doesn't show a lack of interest."

"Why would Dumbledore's remaining here revolve around me? There are other students to protect," I reasoned.

She grinned at me evilly. "You tell me."

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Fine, don't tell me. I'll figure it out. You're not THAT big a riddle." She smirked in good nature, but it left me feeling a pit in my stomach. If Grindelwald was after me, this was a sign that he would soon step up his attacks. If I wanted to bring about Salazar's legacy, I would have to work quickly.

The meal soon after ended. There was no one remarkable worth noting. As we stood, I was about to call the first years to order when a small figure stopped me. I turned and saw Annie Weasley at my elbow.

She was carrying a small bag that she kept shifting from hand to hand. Giving me a nervous grin, she said, "Hi."

I smiled down at her. "Hi, Annie. Have a nice summer?"

"OH, oh yes. Really nice. We couldn't travel much, because...well, you know. Grindelwald. Not that he will be in power for long, right? Soon he'll be eating death."

At that, Sammy spun around and hissed, "Shut up, you idiot! Honestly." She gave a look.

I cleared my throat and said patiently, "Annie, was there something you came over for?"

She blushed and said, "Oh, yes. Well, I wanted to know how your summer went. Being here, and all."

"It was most productive."

"Really? That's good. I guess I'll be going then. I just...also...wanted to congratulate you on being made prefect. I think you deserve it."

"Thank you." She was clearly stalling.

"And...and, well, for congratulations..." As she rambled, she thrust into my hands a small, black covered book. It appeared to be a diary. "And I just stumbled over it and picked it up..."

I turned it over in my hands. "It has my name printed on it."

Sammy laughed as Annie flushed. "Well...yes, I did have that done...but I did just find it...not that it's reused, but...it wasn't expensive, or anything. It was just...a thank you for helping me and a congratulations. That's all. I don't know if you have time to write in it, but..."

I closed it and looked at her. She did look pitiful, all lost and flustered. And she normally was fairly well spoken. I hadn't realized what an effect I had on her. After a moment, I let her out of her misery. "You never know. I've never had a diary before. Thank you." Though far from the best gift I had ever been given, it was sweet in a simple way. An interesting choice. She must have thought about it a great deal. What a way to spend her free time.

Sammy watched her flee. "Pathetic."

"Jealous?" I grinned at her.

Sammy rolled her eyes. "Oh yes, Thomas. I have been given diamonds by seventh years, but secretly I crave nothing more than an underclassman's drooled over pawns."

"It's the thought that counts."

"You do realize she only gave you that because she is totally enraptured with you."

"That's the thought I was talking about. Now, let's get this new class moving, shall we?"

I let Sammy make most of the announcements to the new class. The older prefects had already left; it was the newbies' task to deal with the first years. My mind was on the night.

"...and isn't that right, Thomas?" Sammy turned to me just then, breaking my dream.

"What?" I asked her.

"I was saying..." She squinted at me. "Thomas, are you alright? Your eyes look red...."

I sucked in my breath and quickly averted my head. I had let my thoughts overtake me. Cursing myself, I quickly recovered, "Just imagining when O.W.L.s are, so I knew when to send these fine first years to you for help." Turning to them, I said conspiratorially, "She gets very cranky if she's interrupted studying. So I recommend doing it often."

"Oh, just be quiet and leave. I'll finish up with them." She sounded cross.

I winked at the first years and mouthed, "Mission accomplished." They all laughed, and I hurried away as Sammy whipped around in confusion.

I entered the bathroom and breathed heavily. It was a struggle, to slip from one focus to another, to have the power but harness it only at the right times. But I was not weak; I could handle my heritage. My eyes had retuned to normal, but I had to be more careful. The power was intoxicating...but I could control it. I could. I would. For soon, I would purge the last of...IT...out of me.

The hallways are never fully dark. With all the windows at Hogwarts, moonlight was an ever-present friend at night. I shed blood tears all the way along it, calling forth my tool of purification. And she came.

Into the halls we went, her skin luminescent in the light of the moon. I walked ahead, to find a target to call her to as she slithered into the pipes. It was not simple blood we craved. It was the fear that made it boil. That made it weak. Those who could not withstand it, who could not withstand what they had put me through, would pay.

And then the footsteps came in a patter. They were hurried and light, and I craned to see to whom they belonged. To see if it was a person properly worthy of the blinding light. A fate I would determine.