The Broken Victory

Chapter 29: Dark Lord Incorporated

"That's just...amazing..." Bill's eyes were orbs of wonder as he stared at me. The train rattled forward, its rhythmic pacing lulling many to a softer heartbeat.

"I know," I replied. "I never thought it would actually happen. It's just..."

"Amazing," Bill interrupted, still shaking his head in shock.

"Indeed."

"And you did it?" His head lifted to stare at me as if I were some odd beacon of power.

"Well, I had help. I couldn't have done it without..."

Just then Sammy burst in. Her eyes were clearly guarded and nervous as she approached me. Still, she said, "You...bugger...this is...this is..."

"Amazing?" I asked dryly.

"Yes!" She relaxed, doing a small dance right on the Hogwarts train. "You...how did you manage it? How did you get us our own prefect bathroom! With a Jacuzzi?"

"Well, I don't know if we really have a Jacuzzi yet," I said. "But I simply reasoned with Dippet...if we are going to work so hard for the school, we might as well reap some conciliatory rewards. I think a unisex bathroom achieves that." I shared a smile with Bill.

"Mm," Bill replied dreamily. "Audrey Franco...in a Jacuzzi...with me...bless you, Tom." Audrey was a seventh year Gryffindor and the Head Girl. When she didn't speak, she was pleasant to be around.

I grinned graciously and shrugged, sharing in the pleasant moment on the outside. Inside, there wasn't a part of me that wasn't screeching in nervous pain.

~Anxious, are we? Afraid dear old Dumbledore will see us as a murderer and not an Angel of Vengeance? Don't worry...I shan't let him harm you. Not yet.~

"Tom?"

I jerked my head upright, feeling a sheen of perspiration accumulate across my tensed forehead. Sammy was staring at me, her brown eyes unable to allow me to see me reflection in them. "Yes?"

Sammy twisted a bit, her upper lip drawn back in defense. Still, she managed to say with some dignity, "May I speak with you for a moment?"

"Of course." I stood and followed her out of the prefect compartment. Amazingly enough there were several regular compartments vacant. The toll of Grindelwald was preventing many new students from being enrolled. News of victims came in hourly, and many of his followers were frightened back to him. It alarmed me for an entirely different reason that I suspected haunted many.

We settled into one in the back, facing each other as we had so often in the past. I remained quiet, letting her speak. The sun reflecting through the window off her highlighted her discomfort. "I...I thought about what you said at the beginning of summer," she replied. Her voice was calm...it was as if she had practiced this speech. She probably had.

"Good girl," I replied.

"You know...you really can be the cruelest git at times." Her pride pricked, she was not above a fight. Admirable.

"I'm sorry. You were saying?"

"You can't imagine what this summer has been like..." she began.

"No, probably not. So why don't you tell me?" My eyes followed her pacing with a calm amusement.

She turned to face me then. Genuine fear was in her face, with tears brimming in her eyes. It was quite a change from the Sammy in the prefects' compartment only moments ago. She said, "I won't choose between you and Simon. I have no reason to."

"I'm sure you know best."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't know everything that happened between you two. All I know is that he found out whom your father was and that he was a Muggle. That news isn't the best, but it certainly wasn't deserving of the hate there is between you both. I don't understand it, and I don't want to, and therefore it really isn't fair of you to threaten me! I won't let either of you bully me."

"I never bullied you. You have notions of grandeur, dear. I merely said you should decide where your loyalties lie. I don't like having a friend who speaks of me behind my back and questions my integrity. Simon detests me, goes out of his way to cause me pain. If you are truly a friend of mine, you wouldn't wish to be around someone who treats me like that." I made a motion to leave.

"That isn't what you said," she replied, stopping me. "That isn't what you meant."

"What I said and what you interpreted I meant are two very different things. I said those exact words, and you took them as a threat. I can't go back in time and replay the scene with you in my mind to see my intentions. All I can do is say what they were, and you can either believe me or not. You seem to believe very little of me of late, so this is not surprising."

"I don't..." She paused, collecting herself. I saw her mind working to keep up. She finally gave a growl of sorts. "You're impossible."

"If you say so."

She couldn't help but smile. "Fine...I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I never knew my friendship meant so much to you." Her eyes held a hint of subtle amusement. She hadn't completely bought my words, but she couldn't figure out a way to refute them. I suspected she wanted to believe me, anyway. Continuing, she offered, "Your friendship means the same to me."

Because she wasn't so stupid as to be on my bad side. I knew she had a clever side somewhere. I smiled back. "Ever so glad we are on the same page, love." Her pride was salved, and she was set where she wanted. Away from Simon. Yes, smart little girl. I hoped for her sake she remained this prudent. "I would hate for any worse misunderstandings to occur...they can get so nasty."

Her smile tightened a bit, but she kept her voice light. "Oh, I agree."

We both sat down again, and she broke the silence. "So how was your summer?"

"Refreshing," I answered.

"Really?" She looked a bit surprised.

I gave her a slightly inquisitive gaze as I said, "You seem surprised by that."

She responded with a shrug. "Oh, it's just...you don't look very refreshed." Her eyes traced my face as she continued, "You look worn out."

~Hm...why would that be? Did I forget to let you sleep this week?~

I shrugged. "I feel wonderful. How was your summer?"

She groaned in the theatrical way that was wholly hers at Hogwarts. "Absolutely dreadful, as usual. We are not French. Why do we go to France every summer? We don't speak the language, we've seen the bloody sights, and we can get the food just as well in Italy. Why? You're so damn intelligent; can you explain it?"

I had to laugh, though my insides were still clenched from Grindelwald's voice. "Never having been to France, I cannot adequately comment on its lure. Perhaps the accent?"

I knew that would rile her. She was simply too easy. Her face flamed as she spat, "Oh, right, the sodding French language. Italian is the language of love, not French. They all sound like hacking old people with nasal drips."

"Well then, for all my damned intelligence, I haven't a clue." I gave a helpless shrug.

"Mmm, well, don't take it to heart. My parents couldn't answer it either. They just gave me the usual, 'Samantha DeRosa, you mind that spewing tongue of yours.'" Sammy did a mimic of her parents that might have been amusing had I known them better.

"Parental advice is rarely heeded even under the most admirable circumstances."

~What would you know about that, my little Mudblooded murderer?~

It was so loud that I actually jumped a bit, giving a slight wince.

~Sorry. I shall mind your delicate eardrums.~

"...am I right?" Sammy was prattling on.

"Pardon?" I asked, trying to look as if I had just misunderstood her.

Her brown eyes darted quickly to mine. "Are you sure you're all right, Thomas? Because, otherwise, I'm just boring you, and I know my ego couldn't take that."

"No, of course not. I was simply too mesmerized by your beautiful voice to catch the deep meanings in your words," I said back, avoiding the topic of my well-being.

She snorted. "I know you too well to fall for your charm."

"Yes, you are far too sharp for it," I said a bit wryly.

"Too right. Anyway, I bet both our summers were better than Simon's. I saw him at some function over the summer - we have family that work together - and he looked dreadful. Ghastly pale, and he wouldn't say a word." Sammy's eyes widened in glee, as they always did when she was delving in gossip.

"Perhaps it is an embarrassing affliction. One can only hope," I replied casually, keeping my interest discreet.

"Maybe," she agreed mindlessly, winding her hair around her finger. She then gave a small frown and stood, saying, "Did my sister come on the train? I don't remember seeing her since we stopped at that place for breakfast..." She stood and wandered out of the compartment. Simply Sammy.

I leaned back, beginning to stare out the window.

~If I were you, I would be more concerned about what is waiting for me at Hogwarts. Do you think your act will go unnoticed?~

My throat contracted, and I cursed myself as he prattled on.

~But then, you are tired and weak...perhaps you had best just give up and sleep? I can make you sleep.~

You can make me do nothing. I gritted my teeth. Once I got to Hogwarts, I would figure out how to repel him for good.

~Hm...perhaps now. Give me time. Although, these little hauntings are so enjoyable; I am quite content. And you know what that means...contentment leads to complacency. We both hate that...I must find better ways to amuse myself.~

Coming up with trite sayings in an effort to appear ominous? I offered. He raked bloody transparent claws through my mind at that.

He was with me practically always. Sometimes I felt his hold weaken, when he was distracted. Other times, he was so present in my mind that I had to struggle not to relinquish any part of myself to his control. He was adept as this torture...stronger at night, forcing me to remain awake in fear of relinquishing any hold to him. When I became simply too tired to remain awake, he would fill my mind with busy thoughts of his. It was like holding a blindingly bright light to one's eyes. It was impossible to ignore.

And torture was his goal. To torment me was his desire for now, and to eventually use me against Dumbledore, either as an ally or a dead example.

~Yes, you are perfect for this. Dumbledore's lost treasure...his glowing failure.~

And yours, I thought back with cold finality. No one used me.

~...Well...someone will have a late night tonight.~

**

"Tom."

I jerked my head up and stared dazedly at Dumbledore. "Sir?" I couldn't recall if I had been asleep or not. It was a few weeks into school now, and I was attending Transfiguration class with my peers. I was no longer given special classes by Dumbledore. He didn't have the time, with the war. I didn't really mind. I no longer truly needed him to study.

Right then he was wearing an expression of concern. "Are you feeling well?"

I forced a smile at him. "Never better, sir."

His expression did not change as he handed me back a paper. "If you say. I would like to speak with you after class, if that is all right with you."

I turned the paper to face me as I responded. "Of cour - " The words drowned out as my throat constricted.

E

It was a mistake. It had to be. I never got below an O. Never. It didn't happen. It just didn't. No matter what...

I was beyond flabbergasted. It was as if someone had reached down inside me, given a wrench, and now presented before me my charred pride.

I didn't even notice the bell had rung until I heard someone pass me, saying, "Well, well...knew that bloodline would catch up with him eventually." I didn't even acknowledge Simon.

After everyone had left, I slowly raised my eyes to find Dumbledore sitting behind his desk. Fighting not to curse him on the spot, I swallowed my anger and approached him calmly. "Sir...what is the meaning of this?"

Dumbledore blinked, then had the audacity to start chuckling at me. "That, Mr. Riddle, is what the world knows as an E. It is a grade. It means above average, which your paper was."

I tried very hard to keep the annoyance out of my voice. "Oh, thank you, sir, for that clarification. Perhaps I didn't make the question obvious enough. Why did I receive this..."

"E?"

"Yes. That mark."

Dumbledore sighed and stared at me bluntly. "Well, Tom...frankly, it wasn't your best work."

"I see. Were you judging that based purely on my individual abilities, or did you take the rest of the class's work into consideration?"

His eyes narrowed briefly. Perhaps I had overstepped a bit with that insinuation, but he answered mildly enough. "I always grade on the universal level, Tom. Your paper wasn't the best in the class. That is, of course, my own opinion. Another teacher might have felt differently."

"Yes, well, they don't give me the grade in Transfiguration."

A small smile. "No, they don't. Tom, it wasn't bad. I can show you how you might have done better, if you wish. I found you drawing conclusions that weren't there. You showed too much of your own opinion, not using what the actual authors said. Putting words in their mouths. And the structure might have been different..."

"You liked this outline," I said coldly.

"Yes, usually, but it didn't work for the content of your paper. Frankly, I was surprised by it. But it is only one mark. And, like I said, I can help you improve it."

"No, I see why I got this mark," I said.

"You feel it is unfair?"

"I understand why you gave it. May I go?"

"Tom, there is obviously something wrong. You look ill. You fell asleep in my class. You've never done that."

"I admit that it was too hard to remain conscious in your class."

His smile seemed sad, weight pulling the corners down. Perhaps it was from his wrinkles. "Whatever happened to your cross, Tom?"

I froze. "I beg your pardon?"

He tilted his head, keeping those eyes of his on mine. "Your cross. I haven't seen it in ages."

I swallowed hard, forcing my mouth not to curl. "It chafed."

He nodded slowly. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it must have shown through my robes. "May I go now? I have class."

He continued to stare at me for a moment longer, then simply said, "Yes." I quickly turned to go when he added, "Oh, but one more thing."

I cringed inside. "Yes?"

He had the audacity to smile at me in a paternal way. His patronization drove me to grind my teeth. But continue to grin he did, saying, "Nothing to get upset about. I actually have a request to ask of you."

To ask of an E student? I thought bitterly, but said, "Of course, sir. Anything that you think my abilities are capable of."

He laughed. "Very subtle, Mr. Riddle."

Damn him.

~Soon.~

Dumbledore flipped open his scheduling book. There were hand-drawn pictures in the margins. Doodles. Why wasn't I surprised? But I snapped to attention, my eyes rising to his, as he said, "I would like for you to do a demonstration for my fifth years, if that's all right. The class is, I believe, during the seventh years' study hall. Unless you are taking Muggle Studies as an elective?"

Ha-ha. It would have been more amusing if I weren't terrified by the prospect that he was implying anything. Keeping my face neutral, I responded, "No, sir. Not this semester."

"Mm, I thought not," Dumbledore said, in a manner impossible for me to read. He continued with, "Well, would you?"

"Of course, sir. What sort of demonstration?" I asked.

He folded his hands on the open agenda. His drawn stick men ran fearfully from the looming fingers as they folded on the paper. "I would appreciate it if you showed the fifth years your Animagus, Tom. The children have been working so hard, I figured something fun like this would give them something pleasant to work for."

Fate was a cruel mistress. No matter how hard one fought, she always managed to slice in a few cuts. My heart resumed its pounding.

~Not good.~

Ignoring the voice in my head, I tried to think furiously of an excuse. "But, sir, shouldn't you do it? You are more experienced than I. And I'm sure it would mean ever so much more, coming from the professor."

Dumbledore gave a slight shake of his head, disagreeing. "Once one transforms, one is as able as the next to show it, Mr. Riddle. Experience has nothing to do with it, once someone masters the transformation. And I believe it would mean much more coming from a peer, someone who is admired as yourself, than from a stodgy old professor." He examined me closely. "Is it too hot in here for you, Tom? You're perspiring a bit."

"No. Yes - I...Professor, I really must go. I'm very late for class. We can discuss this later, I hope." I turned and forced myself not to run out of the room. I cringed when I heard his voice again.

"Of course, Mr. Riddle. See you at five, then?"

Damn him, I thought.

~Soon.~

Shut up! I snapped inside my head, leaving my own ears ringing.

~Well, someone's cranky. I'm leaving. See you at five. ~

He thankfully left my worn mind as I walked into Potions late. Zwipp shot me an annoyed glance as I made the long walk to my seat in the front of the room. He even interrupted his lesson to say, "After class, Riddle."

He must be in a spiteful mood. Brilliant. Even so, I almost welcomed the notion of detention. Perhaps around seventh year free period.

But stalling would only work for so long. I didn't know exactly how my Animagus had changed. I'd never heard of such a thing before. So if I didn't know how it had happened, I surely hadn't a clue how to fix it.

Not fix. It wasn't something that had broken or gone awry. Reverse was a better term. And including not knowing how to reverse it, I didn't wish to do so.

Could I simply refuse? Say I didn't feel like ever showing my Animagus? That is was too personal? He already thought me an eccentric, stubborn bastard. Didn't he?

Thankfully, I wasn't called on in class. I sat there, alternating internally between brooding and worrying. When we were dismissed, it took someone ramming my shoulder to knock me back to consciousness and realize class had ended.

I stood and walked to Zwipp's desk, standing confidently at attention. Zwipp was busy pouring some healing salve over his hand. I wondered who'd knocked what onto him. He wasn't about to inform me, though. His voice drew my gaze up to meet his eyes.

He said, "Riddle, what makes you think you can enter my classroom any damn time you feel like it?"

I was taken a bit aback at his tone and manner. I had never been late before, and Zwipp always revered me. Cautiously I replied, "I meant no disrespect, sir. Professor Dumbledore kept me after class."

Zwipp didn't seem to like that I had a reasonable excuse. "I don't want excuses, Riddle. Just see to it that it doesn't happen again. Understand?"

"Of course, sir." I paused, not moving.

He raised one of his thick eyebrows at me. "Well, Riddle? Waiting for me to escort you out?"

"No, sir. I just..." Would like to know why you are being an unbelievable ass to me... "would like to know if everything is all right."

Zwipp actually growled at me. "None of your business. Get on going before you make another professor angry with your tardiness."

"Of course, sir. Certain behavior is inexcusable." I was miffed, but nodded civilly to him and collected my things. I was almost at the door when I heard him sigh.

"Tom, wait a moment." I turned slowly back to him as he continued to speak. "I'm sorry."

I stared at him, thinking. Zwipp wasn't the sort of man to lose his temper easily when it was unfounded. Especially not in front of the students. I approached him out of curiosity, not compassion. "Forgive my forwardness, sir, but...is something wrong?"

Zwipp gave a weary smile. "You're a good lad, Tom. And smart. But even this is beyond your reach." He had pulled himself back together, and his eyes clouded over. I'd get nothing more from him now.

I gritted my teeth in frustration, but didn't pry. "Thank you, sir. I'll leave now."

What was going on with the school? I couldn't help wondering at the professors' strange reactions. After Zwipp, I paid particular attention to the rest. We had someone new teaching Charms. Professor Filius Flitwick, a little creature who stood on books but was rather impressive in skill. He refused to say where Vallandora was. Thistle was on the warpath, assigning us two books on Dark Wars to read by next class. She also said the Dueling club was mandatory for all sixth and seventh years and highly recommended to everyone else. Practice was to be every night. When Randy asked about Quidditch, she said the sport, in any form, was postponed until further notice.

Hm...did they think us dense? Well, some of the students were, but not myself. Nor Simon. We shared the first glance we had in months that wasn't boiling over with hatred.

My concern was for a slightly different reason. I was closer to Grindelwald than anyone right now. I couldn't risk that being discovered. In Divination, I begged a headache and was exempt from the professor's reading.

The minutes ticked down to seventh free period. My heart was hammering, my gut twisting. I hated Dumbledore. He was a frivolous, insane buffoon. How could he make me feel this way? I was stronger than him. I could take him down in a second. I could.

I could.

I kept telling myself that.

I was frantically trying to think of something when Annie raced into me. I snapped, "Can't anyone around here see where they're going?"

Her excited smile faded. "I - I'm sorry, Tom. I just...was happy to see you. I haven't spoken to you in ages."

Thankfully so. "Trust me, I know."

She tried to be flirtatious. "Did you miss me?"

Like a root canal. "Miss, my dear, doesn't begin to describe it."

She giggled and playfully tapped my shoulder. All grown up, she was. We headed off in the same direction, and her eyes widened as she practically squealed, "Oh, are you going to do your Animagus for us, Tom? Dumbledore was talking about it...said we deserved something lighthearted. I suggested you do -"

"You suggested this?" I stopped and stared at her as she blathered on.

"Oh, yes, I stood right up and said, 'Professor, I think it would be grand if my friend Tom Riddle came in here and did a demonstration, to give us something to work hard for -'"

"You did this."

"Yes. Oh, don't worry; I didn't say anything to embarrass you," she prattled on. "And Dumbledore thought it was just a grand idea. He said he'd been thinking the same thing, but wasn't sure it was something we'd really like, and then he sat there stroking his beard like he does, and he started to like the idea more and more; I could tell -"

"I imagine he did. So...you really did this. You."

"Yup. You can thank me later." Her smile was smug and bright.

"Oh, don't worry. I intend to."

We finally reached the classroom. I let her walk in first. She seemed disappointed I didn't walk in beside her. Good. The ignorant little brat. She practically skipped to the front of the classroom. An empty seat was next to her, with a tiny note scrawled in her handwriting. It read, 'Hagrid's.' How endearing. I bet it was only allowed in Dumbledore's room.

Dumbledore was standing at the head of the room. His smile was bright. "So, Mr. Riddle. You decided to join us. I'm very pleased."

"Well, sir...I can't tell you how it makes me feel to see you happy." I faced the class, my mind pounding through its headache and fatigue in search of a solution. I barely heard Dumbledore's introduction.

There was no permanent solution. There was only stalling. And any distraction I made would bring suspicion. Except one, which could possibly blow up in my face worse than anything. Or it could result in my greatest feint. Taking a deep breath, I fell to the floor. Groaning as Dumbledore and Annie rushed toward me, I writhed on the floor, pushing their hands away.

My face was already flushed with worry, blackened eyes from exhaustion. In a voice perfectly raw because it was real, I croaked, "Grindelwald..."

~Oh...you'll pay for that one, little Mudblood...~