- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Schnoogle
- Ships:
- Harry Potter/Tom Riddle Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
- Characters:
- Albus Dumbledore Luna Lovegood Tom Riddle Harry and Hermione and Ron Lord Voldemort
- Genres:
- Romance Drama
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix Half-Blood Prince Deadly Hallows (Through Ch. 36)
- Stats:
-
Published: 07/03/2006Updated: 04/25/2008Words: 120,741Chapters: 17Hits: 70,127
Killing Me Softly
Mai
- Story Summary:
- What if Harry was too late in saving Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets? How will this affect the course of history and the relationship between the Boy Who Lived and the young future Dark Lord?
Chapter 13
- Posted:
- 04/12/2007
- Hits:
- 2,679
- Author's Note:
- Many thanks to my wonderful beta Mortalus. I could not have done it without you. :)
The Darkest Hours of Their Lives
"To fear love is to fear life,
and those who fear life are
already three parts dead."
- Bertrand Russell
*****
Tightly tied with rope, Harry was dragged away to the large manor. His mind was still on Tom, worried about what was going to happen to him. He struggled against his bonds, losing his glasses in the process, but to no avail.
He was dragged past the gates and into the entrance door. The Death Eaters made their way down the corridor, turned around several corners, and yanked him down a stairwell. Harry vaguely recognized this manor; this was where Tom's father had lived...he had caught a glimpse of this manor in Tom's dreams...
Finally, they stopped. Harry looked around, squinting; the first thing that he saw made his entire body run cold. Across from where he sat was a closet. The door was open, and inside on the upper shelves were numerous jars. Inside the jars were body parts. Two tall jars stood underneath them. One contained a human skeleton, and the other...
Harry couldn't stop staring at the man's face. The witch next to him bellowed with laughter.
"That's Derek Avery," she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "The Dark Lord wished to have his organs pulled out."
"Why..." Harry whispered, not blinking.
"So much can be done with human organs," replied a soft, calm voice. A new wizard approached Harry. He wore small square glasses on the tip of his long nose. Unlike the other Death Eaters, his robes were white instead of black, and with his light gray hair and very pale skin, he resembled a ghost. With another jolt of anxiety, Harry noticed the blood stains on his white gloves. The wizard smiled kindly. "I daresay you and the Dark Lord's younger self will have similar fates." He traced one finger down Harry's cheek. "So much wonderful magic can be done with the human body. You say he's an immortal, Bella?"
"Yes, indeed, Pyrites" the witch said, staring down at Harry as though he was just a pile of soot.
"My, my...what a lovely, rare specimen," Pyrites said, examining Harry coolly. "An immortal..."
Specimen? "What are you going to do to me?" Harry demanded, barely able to stop the shakiness in his voice. He didn't want to think about what it would be like to be in Avery's position...his body separated into jars yet not dead...feeling the pain for all of eternity..."Where's Tom? What are you going to do to him?"
No one answered him. Pyrites pointed his wand at one corner of the room; the floor, wall, and air turned a pale shade of green. Pyrites next pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry flew into the corner. The ropes disappeared, and Harry quickly rose to his feet. He took a few steps and collided with the transparent green barrier. Pyrites smiled.
"You will remain here for as long as the Dark Lord requests," Pyrites informed him. Harry detested his calm, gentle voice.
"What for?" Harry demanded.
"I will be conducting experiments on you and your friend to determine any physiological explanations for your immortal body," Pyrites unemotionally explained. "I may require your blood and organ tissues, or I may need to divide your body into jars, as I did with dear Derek Avery."
Harry's eyebrows rose. Pyrites spoke with detached emotions, and he regarded Harry as though he was just an object and not a human being. He really was serious about cutting his body up...
Tom... Harry's heart shot up into his throat. Again he tried to stop himself from imagining what it would be like to have his immortal body spilt into jars...
"I see," was all he could reply to Pyrites, keeping his voice as steady as he could. The wizard left at that moment without another look along with the other Death Eaters, leaving Harry alone in the cold room with the remaining body parts of Avery.
Tom didn't speak until he was taken into Lord Voldemort's room. A large snake was coiled near the fireplace. Lord Voldemort ordered the snake, Nagini, to leave. As she slithered by, Tom felt a strange, brief tug towards the snake, as though he was, somehow, a part of her.
He stood still as Lord Voldemort magically sealed the door. Tom's eyes flew to the windows, and as though Lord Voldemort read his mind, the windows disappeared. He took a couple steps forward and turned around to face his older self. He forced his breathing to stay steady.
"Such an interesting revelation you made out there," Lord Voldemort started, his deadly eyes scrutinizing Tom's face. "This certainly explains everything: why you've never sought me, why Harry was never harmed under your care, why you seem a little...different...right now."
"I have told you," Tom replied as calmly as he could, "I did seek you."
"Until Harry Potter stole all your attention," Lord Voldemort finished.
Tom didn't reply; that was the truth. He had stopped his search because he had grown closer to Harry...
Lord Voldemort moved closer and ran a long, pale finger down Tom's cheek. "How did you achieve immortality?" he questioned. "Was it a result of the Horcrux?"
"Why don't you try casting the Killing Curse on yourself and see," Tom said calmly, his eyes narrowed. He pushed Lord Voldemort's hand away from his face. The red eyes flashed dangerously.
"That body is as much rightfully mine as it is yours," Lord Voldemort said in a low voice as his eyes trialed down to Tom's heart. "I can do whatever I wish with it..." His fingers lightly brushed against Tom's chest; Tom took a step back, throwing his older self a filthy look.
"I do not believe it was the Horcrux," Lord Voldemort continued after a few moments of silence. "The Killing Curse tore me from my body; the same spell has affected you differently. The energy I sense in you is the same energy I sensed inside Harry...he too is an immortal...I could find many uses for his body as well..."
"Lay one finger on Harry, and you'll have to answer to me!" Tom spat out suddenly.
His eyes darted back up to Tom's face. "What did you do?" he hissed. "How did you achieve this?"
Tom didn't reply. Lord Voldemort jabbed his rib with his wand.
"Well?"
Tom refused to speak. Giving up, Lord Voldemort pulled back. He grabbed Tom's chin, and before Tom could push away, he looked into Tom's eyes. Images quickly surfaced to the top of his mind as though they were being pulled by force.
He was looking through an old notebook...Harry was on the bed, unconscious and looking very young...Tom was drawing blood from Harry's arm...
"A spell..." he heard Lord Voldemort say, his voice sounding as though it was coming from far away. "It was the spell Grindelwald showed us many years ago..."
Tom bit his lip, resolving to stay silent. His mind was being racked for the details, but Tom silently fought back. Eventually, Lord Voldemort let go, observing Tom for a long while through vile eyes.
"What did the young brat do to trick you into this indecency, this absurdity?" he hissed through clenched teeth.
"Trick me?" Tom repeated angrily, breaking his resolve. "Harry had no power whatsoever. I had his wand. He could not leave the room without me lifting the magical barrier. I held him hostage. I was in complete control! Harry couldn't trick me. I..." he paused. "I grew to understand him, to like him."
"It's insanity you speak!" Lord Voldemort hissed abhorrently. "We were never one to feel such a useless emotion!"
"My feelings for Harry are genuine!"
"He has infected your mind!"
"I love him!"
Lord Voldemort's eyes widened and burned brighter. Tension filled the room as their eyes locked.
"Love," Lord Voldemort began slowly, finally breaking the silence. "Love...you have made yourself weak. Such an emotion is below us. I am disgusted with you."
"Love does not make people weak," Tom said.
"Love is for fools," Lord Voldemort spat.
He pointed his wand to the side, and green sparks shot up. An image in bright green light formed in front of Tom. It was of a skull with a snake protruding from its jaws.
"The Dark Mark," Lord Voldemort explained. "The symbol I and my servants use to proclaim our presence. Every Death Eater wears the Mark on his arm. Morsmordre. Our friends Rosier and Prince made the spell for me as a present."
Tom turned his attention towards Lord Voldemort.
"It was during my final year at Hogwarts," Lord Voldemort continued. "I had begun to form what would soon become the first generation of Death Eaters. Rosier and Prince were among my most intimate friends, as you know. They both had offered to invent a spell that would keep me connected to my servants. Thus they worked together, Marilyn Rosier the artist and Eileen Prince the inventor.
"Rosier, however, sought a little payment from me." A horrible sneer crossed his pallid face.
He stepped closer to Tom and grabbed his chin again. He looked into Tom's eyes, and Tom's mind was soon filled with a memory that was not his own.
Marilyn Rosier was talking in a hushed voice to his older self. They were in the library, seemingly alone. The windows nearby showed a pitch black sky.
Tom couldn't hear what they were saying, but the images before him spoke loud and clear. Marilyn was gripping Tom's arm. A cold smile passed across Tom's face and he moved closer, kissing her.
"No..." Tom muttered as he was brought back to the present.
"You never noticed the attention she always gave you?" Lord Voldemort said. "I had figured out the reason for her always standing near me and wanting to help me. She desired me. I, of course, gave her what she wanted...anything that she wanted. It assured me that she would not go astray. Our affair empowered her to work even more enthusiastically for my cause."
An ill feeling swarmed in Tom's belly. He imagined Marilyn when they were in their first year, her chubby face and innocent smile...
Tom absentmindedly placed a hand over his belly. His other self did not understand love...he'd used Marilyn...he'd used that little girl...
You were no different, a voice in the back of his head told him. But Marilyn was different, he stubbornly told himself. He had known Marilyn for many years...
"Their work eventually paid off," Lord Voldemort continued. "They presented me my gift: the Dark Mark. I could brand the Mark on any of my servants. They could feel me whenever I beckoned them to my side. Even more, any of the Death Eaters could summon the Dark Mark into the sky. It was truly a wonderful gift from my most loyal servants.
"Around that time, Rosier stopped seeking me during the night. I was surprised but not upset. I had no use for her anymore. But then, just a month or so before our graduation, she asked me to meet her somewhere private. She seemed desperate. I took her inside the nearest bathroom and locked the door."
There was a sour expression on his face.
"She told me she was pregnant," he suddenly spat.
Tom gaped.
"We had made an agreement to prevent any conception from ever happening, but the little bitch wanted to give me an heir, a present from her to me," Lord Voldemort recalled angrily.
Tom suddenly remembered the date of death next to Marilyn's name: May 6, 1945.
No...
"I killed her," Lord Voldemort said coldly. "The Killing Curse was not enough to satisfy me, but I did not want to touch the filthy girl. I put her under the Imperious Curse and commanded her commit stab herself right before me. After that, I took care of the problem that resided in her womb."
"No..." Tom gasped. Before he could stop him, Lord Voldemort sent more images into Tom's mind.
Tom wished he did not see what remained of Marilyn.
"No!" he shrieked. Beside her body was himself just a year or two older, his eyes blazing with rage. He thrust a hand into her belly with incredible force, ripping out -
"NO!" Tom shrieked, breaking the connection. "What did you do to your child?" he demanded angrily.
"I buried it," Lord Voldemort said as though it was the simplest thing to do. "I might have used the fetus for my own advantage, but I was so upset that I did not take the time to think. It does not matter. I buried the child on the school grounds. I cleaned myself and I willed myself to look shaken when the rest of the school found out about Rosier's death. I showed them that I was very much affected by my friend's tragic end.
"Dumbledore initially suspected me, but she had motive to kill herself after Grindelwald's defeat, so even he concluded it was suicide. There was clear indication that Marilyn had murdered herself. Her reason, everyone suspected, was that Grindelwald had been defeated. She was, after all, a huge supporter...his downfall would naturally push a fanatical follower into suicide."
Monster... Tom thought fearfully, staring at what he had become. He remembered the time he had walked past Marilyn's home during the summer he had killed his father. He had paused briefly under her window, listening to the music she was playing on her gramophone. She always loved art, even if it was created by a Muggle...
She was listening to Benny Goodman, Tom recalled. He had stood and listened, his hands still fresh with the murder of his father, smiling at what she must have been doing at that very moment. If he had to guess, she had been doing her silly dance around the easel, painting in rhythm with the music.
His stomach lurched.
"But there was another person who suspected that I was behind Rosier's death," Lord Voldemort broke through Tom's thoughts." Prince figured out what had happened. After I graduated, I lost connection with her for several years.
"I later learned that she has married a Muggle named Tobias Snape just two weeks after she met him. She did it to spite me! Many times I tried to contact her; I used the bloody Mark she created, threatening her through severe pain to come back, but she fought me with silence.
"She had a son, Severus, but her marriage was disastrous. Tobias Snape was not kind to his wife..." a horrible smile was now on his face. "Prince had the nerve to come to me when she could not handle the abuse any longer!" He laughed a high, cold laugh that made Tom take a step back. "I sent her away."
"By his good fortune, her son became one of my Death Eaters. I offered him the chance to rid himself of his gloomy past."
Tom groaned. Another date resurfaced in his mind. Eileen's date of death: October 23, 1980.
Professor Snape murdered his own mother, Tom thought, feeling close to vomiting. He murdered my Eileen...
He remembered seeing Eileen for the first time in the library. She had been only a first year, a frail, silent girl, seemingly weak. She had been working on a new spell. Even then she had been full of potential. He'd taken her under his wing to make her his servant and friend...
"Eileen...Marilyn..." Tom moaned. His eyes shot up at Lord Voldemort. "How could you?" he shrieked "They helped you more than the others! How could you?"
"Such disgusting emotion," Lord Voldemort spat. "You care about them..."
It was true. The more he recalled the past, the more Tom felt affection for the music Marilyn used to play and for little Eileen rummaging through books for her own personal research on a new spell or potion...
"You killed my friends!" Tom screamed.
"Look at yourself," Lord Voldemort said angrily. "Look at what Potter has done to you! You've become weak! Just like Rosier, love has made you a fool!"
"Love has strengthened me!" Tom corrected. "Love has made me feel more alive!"
"Such lunacy!"
"I'm not insane!" Tom shouted. "Harry taught me love! I understand it better than you! This knowledge, you need another person to understand it, it's not something you can acquire from a book!"
"Then it was Harry who infected your mind!" Lord Voldemort roared. "What made you listen to him?" Before Tom could react, Lord Voldemort had grabbed him and focused their eyes to have contact once more.
To Tom's horror, images began to resurface...images he never wanted his older self to see...he tried to fight off Lord Voldemort, but it was in vain...
He was holding hands with Harry...Harry was smiling at him as they talked late in the night...Tom was kissing him in their makeshift bed on the balcony...Tom was in the shower, running his hands down his own body and moaning Harry's name...they were both nude on the bed, Harry's eyes inviting Tom as Tom's hand pleasured his friend...
Tom was shoved to the wall. He chanced a look at his older self.
Lord Voldemort's face had gone paler than normal; his eyes housed both intense fury and revulsion. His wand nearly snapped in half from his strong grip.
"You..." Lord Voldemort hissed. "You...indecent little...you've abandoned me for...for this, this shameful act!" He gripped Tom around the neck. "Did you enjoy it, filthy boy?"
"I didn't...do anything more than that," Tom said desperately.
Lord Voldemort tightened his grip. "Liar! Did you not share the same bed with Harry?"
Tom didn't speak until his older self pointed his wand at him threateningly. "Yes."
"Did you not sleep together?"
Tom moaned. "Yes," he eventually said, knowing that Lord Voldemort would take the answer to mean something else entirely.
"Did you not touch each other?"
"...yes."
"Little abomination," Lord Voldemort hissed venomously. "Do you know what scum such as yourself are called?"
"I am very much aware of what I am," Tom responded.
"Do you know what has been done to others like yourself? Your hands won't be the only parts I will cut off..."
Tom gave an odd chuckle. "Then you should do the same to yourself," he said.
Silence followed. Lord Voldemort regarded him wide-eyed. Tom knew that face well; he had hit a nerve.
"Well, it's true, isn't it?" Tom sneered. "We are the same person, aren't we?"
He was thrown back against the wall. Before he could jump back to his feet, Lord Voldemort screamed, "Avada Kedavra!"
The same excruciating pain shot throughout every vein of Tom's body. His mouth hung open, but nothing came out. It was too painful to scream. His brain, heart, and testicles were wringed, crushed, and grinded. His breathing and sense of sight ceased.
Tom could not remember how long it was before he regained consciousness. The pain was worse than before. Lord Voldemort was looking down at him, studying him.
"How did it feel?" he asked. "How did dying feel?"
Tom couldn't move. Lord Voldemort kneeled and examined him closer.
"Did you see anything? Hear any sound, any name calling you?"
Tom couldn't talk. He fought with his body, and only a gurgled moan escaped his lips. Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at Tom's temples.
"Avada Kedavra!"
This time, amongst the pit of agony, Tom heard a voice in the back of his mind screeching, "Let me out! Get me out of my body! Give me peace at last!"
When he finally regained consciousness, Tom was trembling terribly. The pain lingered...he wished it would all stop, that he could finally rest...
Am I wishing for death? Tom wondered, shocked. He wanted the pain to end...he wanted to breathe...
Lord Voldemort was observing him again coldly.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Tom didn't know how long it was before he began breathing again and gained consciousness.
Lord Voldemort had already stood up. Tom heard a door opening, and two voices appearing. He was too weak to move. His eyes rolled to the back of his head.
Let the pain end...
He tried to think of Harry. Harry gave him comfort, so much comfort... bed, rest, sleep...Harry...
He was not aware that his body was picked up by one of the Death Eaters.
"Take him to the laboratory," Lord Voldemort commanded.
"Yes, master," the two Death Eaters replied. Tom recognized their voices...they were his school friends!
He killed Marilyn and Eileen! Tom wanted to yell at them, but he was too faint to move. He closed his eyes, sensing sleep about to envelope him, but he was suddenly jolted awake. He was thrown to the ground; he was taken outside.
"Freak," Claudius Mulciber said. To Tom's surprise, they were both regarding him with revolted looks.
"Who'd think he was a fairy as well?" Antonin Dolohov said.
Tom was able to open his mouth, but he couldn't speak.
"I hated everything about that stupid prat," Dolohov continued.
Tom's eyes widened. Weren't they my admirers? Didn't they like me, respect me?
"He was always so cocky," Mulciber added. "Always talked down to me. Do you remember my name, bastard?"
Yes! Tom wanted to say.
"Merlin, I hate that face of his!" Mulicber suddenly screamed. He kicked Tom in the face with his heavy boot; blood dribbled down Tom's mouth.
Tom gasped at the pain. He didn't understand...if they hated him, why were they serving his older self?
"Clau...An..." Tom tried to speak.
They ignored him. Tom felt himself being picked up again. He looked around, and his jaw dropped. Before him was a coffin.
Powerless, Tom was thrown into the coffin. The lid was thrown down and magically sealed. He finally found his voice, and he shrieked at the top of his lungs. It seemed like his body was finally starting up again. He pounded on the coffin with his hands and feet, all the while shrieking incomprehensible words. He felt the coffin being lifted, thrown down, and then he heard that terrible sound.
Dirt was being thrown onto the coffin. He was being buried alive.
"NO!" he shrieked wildly over and over, nearly tearing his vocal chords. His entire body was trembling brutally. "NO! NO!"
He didn't want to be in the dark forever, forgotten. He didn't want to feel the insects crawl inside and over his body, eating him. He didn't want to be powerless!
His hands froze; a tingling sensation had started at the tip of his fingers, and it spread through his hands and arms...something was happening...
Tom wasn't aware of where he was, what he was doing, who he was...he was still screaming and thrashing about, but he was also frozen in space...
His heart cried out to let him out, his body begged to stay and rest. He wasn't in control of his mind...it was acting solely on its own; he was trapped, and the screams to get out were fading...
Before he lost consciousness, Tom saw a woman's hands reach out for him. His eyes briefly met hers...
"Tom..."
"Mother..."
"How long do you suppose he's been having a seizure?" Dolohov asked Mulicber. They hadn't planned on keeping Tom underground. They knew Tom's greatest fear, and they wanted to let him experience it.
"I don't care," Mulicber said bitterly. "I hope he gets brain damage!"
"More than what he already has?" Dolohov chuckled. He grabbed Tom by the legs and dragged him out of the coffin. Neither men bothered to pick the convulsing boy off the ground as they took him to Pyrite's laboratory.
Harry looked up as two Death Eaters entered.
He didn't see Tom until he was thrown inside the magical barrier.
"Wha- " Harry gasped. The image before him was blurry, but he heard a strange sound coming from Tom. He whipped back towards the Death Eater, but they had already left. The lights in the room went out once more.
"Tom!" Harry called out weakly. His voice was strangely hoarse and quiet as though there was a predator in the pitch-black laboratory waiting to strike. The sound raised the hair on his arms.
Grand mal.
There used to be an epileptic classmate in Harry's Muggle school. Harry had witnessed the seizure a couple times, and each time had always left him slightly shaken. He wasn't supposed to be close to a person in this condition, but he crawled until his hand brushed against Tom's quivering body. "Tom...what's happened to you? What did they do to you? Tom?"
Harry gently massaged Tom's arm; the convulsion was subduing. His other hand found Tom's mouth; he was frothing...
How long has he been like this? Harry wondered worryingly. What did they do to him to induce this? Is he breathing again? He brought his face down close to Tom's weakened body.
"Tom," Harry called out gently, wrapping his arms around him. "I'm here, Tom...I'm here..."
"I'm here, Tom...I'm here..."
Tom could not move, but he felt safe softly wrapped inside his mother's arms.
Everything was happening all too fast for Hermione. One moment, she was enjoying the game with Ron and the Weasleys. The next, Arthur Weasley was yelling at them to run away and hide. He had run down to battle, his wand at the ready, Bill close by. Fred and George had wanted to help, but Mr. Weasley yelled at them to run for cover.
Ron grabbed Hermione's hand, and they ran down.
"Where should we go?" Hermione gasped. Her mind had gone blank. Everywhere around her people were falling down, trampling over each other, and getting struck by curses.
"Here!" Ron shoved her underneath the Quidditch stands. It was a small, cramped space, but it was their only protection from the pandemonium outside. Hermione could here a couple of muffled sobs; a few children had found their way inside.
She crawled her way to the front of the stands and peeked outside. Figures in black were fighting Aurors and other audience members who had run to help. Hermione could not see everything, but it appeared that a few of the enemies were retreating.
Ron slipped next to her.
"We have to help Dad," Ron said in a hushed voice as though the enemy outside could here them among all the shrieks and shouts.
"We can't," Hermione said. "We don't know enough yet..."
She tilted her head until she could get a clear view of the symbol in the night sky. "The Dark Mark..." she said more to herself, breathing hard. "Those are Death Eaters out there..."
"Why are they here now?" Ron wondered out loud. "You-Know-Who is still weak, isn't he?" His face fell. "Riddle!"
"Tom doesn't know these people!" Hermione said. "He doesn't have any contact with them! He was too busy with Harry, and Harry would have kn - oh God - Harry!"
"What's wrong?" Ron stared at Hermione's pale face and wide eyes.
"Ron, we have to go to Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione said hurriedly.
"Why?" Ron asked, feeling alarmed. "What's going on? Hermione!"
Hermione was crawling her way back out; Ron grabbed her leg.
"It's still too early!" he said. "There's still some out there!" Hermione didn't seem to hear him, and when he finally thought that the coast was clear and let go, she quickly disappeared through the crack. Ron chased after her.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione screamed.
The headmaster was across the Quidditch field. All around Hermione were injured witches and wizards and bodies; mediwitches and mediwizards were filling the scene, aiding anyone within their sight. A small group stood around Dumbledore, all of them talking at once. Mr. Weasley and Bill were among them. Off to the side, a wizard in a ragged robes and matted hair sat on the grass; he was wrapped in rope.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione screamed again, catching her headmaster's attention.
"Sweet Merlin, Hermione - what happened?" Mr. Weasley asked just as Ron finally caught up. Professor Dumbledore stepped forward, watching Hermione concernedly.
"Yes, Hermione?" he asked gently.
Hermione hiccupped. "Harry...Harry was here, Professor." Everyone stared at her for a stunned second.
"Harry?" Ron questioned, confused. "Harry's back with Riddle, safe. He couldn't come with us, remember?"
"No, Ron!" Hermione corrected. Tears were pouring down her face. "Harry convinced Tom to come with him. They used the Invisibility Cloak!"
"He could still be safe," Ron offered hopefully.
Professor Dumbledore sighed, looking at everyone who was with him before finally replying.
"Lord Voldemort has risen again," he explained to Ron and Hermione. "From what we have disclosed, he has regained full power. His servants broke out of Azkaban; they have planned for his return for some time."
"We don't know how he returned," Professor Lupin added, starting to look worried. He glanced at the man sitting on the grass.
"They were kidnapped!" the man exclaimed angrily.
Hermione whimpered.
"What did I tell you!" the man snarled at Professor Lupin. "I saw Harry! He was with a boy, a friend, I presume. Tom, you say his name was? They had gone to the bathroom, and then they were attacked in there!"
Ron's face paled. "Riddle gave Harry to his older self?"
"Tom wouldn't do that," Hermione said.
"Well, how do you know? Just because you think he's handsome doesn't mean he's -"
"He's had a million chances to just hand him over, Ron, and -"
Professor Dumbledore raised his hand, and everyone fell silent. He turned to the man sitting on the grass. "Sirius, show us where you saw Harry."
"Yes!" Sirius jumped to his feet. He looked at Professor Lupin expectedly. "Care to take these off me?"
"He said Peter is still alive," Professor Lupin said.
Sirius snarled. "Fine. Think I'm crazy all you want!" He stormed out the stadium. Professor Dumbledore commanded some to stay, and the others followed him.
Ron couldn't stop looking at Hermione.
"Why didn't Harry tell me?" he asked, looking slightly hurt.
"Harry wanted as few people to know as possible," Hermione explained, looking apologetic. "Besides, you would have hunted down and beaten up Tom."
"Well...yeah," Ron confessed.
"He wanted to surprise you, Ron...he wanted you to be happy to hear that he was at the game!" More tears dribbled down her face. Ron placed a hand on her shoulder.
Sirius led them to a public bathroom.
"There!" he screamed maniacally, pointing at the ground in front of the door. "Look here! That's the Invisibility Cloak James used to own!"
"There's a book here," Ron said, bending down. "Cannibalistic Magi. It looks like something from Riddle's place."
"Appears like it was tossed aside in a hurry," a young Auror named Tonks pointed out. The book was lying facedown, and several pages were bent.
"Not something a person would do if he had planned to hand over Harry," Professor Lupin mused.
"He would also make sure not to leave evidence behind," Tonks added.
Professor Dumbledore didn't look completely convinced. He turned to Sirius. "You say you saw Pettigrew?"
"Yes!" Sirius said. "He's still alive!" He marched into the bathroom. "Look here - who are you?"
Everyone peeked inside. A small boy was hiding in one of the stalls, looking pale.
"Colin?" Ron asked.
"H-h-h-hi," Colin said to Ron while eyeing Sirius.
"It's okay, Mr. Creevey," Professor Dumbledore said encouragingly.
Colin stepped out of the stall, gripping his camera. "I was coming here for a break," he explained, glancing at Sirius again. "I saw a huge black dog, and there was a wizard magically pinning him to the ground." He glanced down at his camera.
Sirius's jaws dropped, and he stood in front of Colin. "Did you take a picture?"
"Yes," Colin said, taking a step back from Sirius's feral appearance.
"Give it to me!"
Professor Dumbledore placed a calm hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Colin, give the photo to me," he said.
"Yes, sir," Colin said. He produced the photo out from his pocket. Everyone peered at the photo Professor Dumbledore now held.
Remus's eyes widened. There was Sirius in his dog form, struggling against magical binds that held him down on the grass. Not too far off was a balding wizard, but Remus instantly recognized his face.
"It's Peter," he said, feeling as though his heart just plummeted to the floor. "He's still alive!"
Sirius gave a wild shriek of triumph, starling Colin.
"I don't understand what's going on," Ron said.
"You're an Animagus," Hermione said while wiping a tear away. She looked at Sirius, and Sirius nodded. "And...I don't know about Peter myself."
"We will explain everything later," Professor Dumbledore assured her.
"And Harry?" Ron demanded.
Sirius pointed across the bathroom to a broken wand on the floor.
Ron groaned loudly.
"He's defenseless!" he said. His face went paler. "And he's in You-Know-Who's hands!"
"Is he still alive?" he questioned in a tiny voice to no one in particular.
Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. Ron turned to Remus, looking desperate.
"We will do whatever we can," Remus assured them. He turned around and lifted the binds off Sirius. He went to apologize, but Sirius brushed him aside.
"I ran away from Azkaban to save my godson," he said gruffly. "You got in the way."
He stepped out of the bathroom, turning his back away from a very hurt Remus Lupin.
Harry didn't know how much time had passed. The room was always pitch black whenever Pyrites wasn't inside, and there were no windows.
He was at a constant war with the Death Eaters. He didn't dare look in any way affected by their actions and torture, but once Pyrites left and the room was dark, Harry let his face fall. He was terrified, starving, and shivering.
Tom was awfully silent. Pyrites had taken blood samples from Tom without needing to restrain him; Harry watched him with disgust. Pyrites was always very gentle when handling them, as though they were a fascinating bacterial specimen that had to be treated with utmost care.
They did not bother to feed them. Apparently Lord Voldemort did not find it worthwhile to feed immortals.
Let us die, Harry prayed while rocking Tom in his arms, the darkness their only companion. It was all he could do comfort them during the darkest hours of their lives. Let there be a way for us to die, don't let us feel any more pain...
"No..." Tom moaned in Harry's arms. Harry hadn't realized he was praying aloud. He continued to hold Tom.
"Tom?" But Tom had slipped back into unconsciousness.
Ever since Lord Voldemort had spoken with his younger self, he was at a constant state of unease. He could feel his servants' eyes on him, whispering amongst themselves about his sexuality. He pushed the matter to the back of his mind, but it always lingered, dripping ill reminders into his consciousness.
"What are the results, Arrhenius Pyrites?" he questioned.
"Normal in every way," Pyrites reported. "I did several studies, and I did not find a single atom in their blood that is different from our own. Nothing at all!"
"Nothing at all?" Lord Voldemort repeated, surprised.
Pyrites nodded, looking thoroughly stunned and awed by his lack of discovery. "Amazing," he said softly more to himself, "how their bodies are functioning exactly like our own. What is the key to immortality? What could be the driving force of -"
Lord Voldemort angrily bit his lower lips until it bled. "Keep working!" he commanded quickly before Pyrites fell too deep in his own thoughts. "Don't stop until you find something! Surely there is something different about their bodies!"
"I could take a small section of their internal organs and observe how they respond to various potions," Pyrites offered with a dreamy smile.
"Then get back to work! Don't waste any more of my time with your fantasies!"
Pyrites bowed, his mind obviously still elsewhere, and left.
Peter paced in one of the bedrooms, terrified. He was lost for what to do. The Potter child had saved him, had taken the Cruciatus Curse several times...
I'm in his debt, Peter thought. Master wouldn't want a servant in Potter's debt. A part of him felt he should pay the boy back in some way; perhaps then he could still be valuable to Lord Voldemort. But then what if Lord Voldemort, or anyone else, caught him?
He paused, finally coming to a decision.
It was pitch dark, and Harry was lying on the cold floor trying to fall asleep when he felt something warm and furry brush across his fingers. The small creature pushed an object into his hands as though it wanted to give it to him.
"Scabbers?"
He felt around, but the rat was gone. He observed the small, soft, familiar object in his hand - a piece of bread.
Harry's stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. He was about to put the small piece into his mouth, but suddenly, turning around, he crawled to Tom.
"Tom, eat," he said. Tom didn't move from his spot. He rarely moved since they were brought here. He touched Tom's hand; Tom weakly responded.
He can't eat by himself, Harry thought. He bit into the bread and chewed; to his horror, he found that he was having trouble salivating, but he took his time, moistening the portion as much as he could. When he was ready, he moved Tom over on his back, lifted him up with one arm supporting his back, and opened his mouth. He covered Tom's mouth with his.
Tom got the cue, and he slowly accepted the bolus from Harry. Harry held him, massaging his arm as he fed his friend, his heart torn at how weak Tom had become. What have they done to you?
Harry continued feeding Tom, forgetting completely about feeding himself. By the end, Harry felt Tom's hand grip his own hand. Harry gave Tom a little squeeze and kissed his forehead, wiping the tear from his cheek before it dripped onto Tom.
What have they done to you?
Lord Voldemort blinked, puzzled. He was lying in bed in his well-lit chamber, a thick leather-bound book on his lap, when he suddenly had a vision of a dark room and a familiar voice speaking softly. He closed his eyes, and the dark room floated back in his mind.
"Potter..." Lord Voldemort said when he opened his eyes. He was looking through Harry's eyes...the boy in his arms was the brat, weak and immobile...
Sitting up straighter, Lord Voldemort stared ahead, his mind alit. How had this happened?
Blood... he quickly thought. The ritual must have created a link between his mind and the Potter boy. It must have taken a while for the link to become noticeable.
Sneering, Lord Voldemort rested back. He closed his eyes again and focused on Harry's mind...
Never in Harry's life had he ever had such violent nightmares. The disturbing images were so vibrant he thought everything was truly happening. He was covered in blood, staring helplessly at a table as Pyrites, his white robes stained in fresh blood, cut Tom down the middle; all Harry could see of Tom was his hand that hung from the side of the metal table...
Harry was sitting down on a chair, unable to move, watching wide-eyed as Tom's organs were pulled out and placed inside large jars, his face was turned towards Harry, vulnerability in his eyes...
This wasn't a dream. This was really happening. A Death Eater, Macnair, had come into their prison cell and violated Tom's body right next to Harry. Harry couldn't move for some reason, just watch. And then Macnair took his sharp axe and brought it to Tom's neck...
Harry jolted awake, panting hard.
"Tom." His voice came out with a little squeak. He rolled over and reached out for his friend. All he could see before him was black...the afterimage of the vibrant shade of spilt blood didn't leave his mind.
I'm losing my mind, Harry thought, trembling as he wrapped his arms around his friend. He tried to steady his breathing while his hand ran through Tom's disheveled hair. It's just a dream...Tom is okay...
The lights came back on, and Harry instantly let go of Tom. Lord Voldemort and Pyrites stepped inside.
"Give me the results!" Lord Voldemort ordered, and Pyrites joyfully showed him the slips of parchment off one of the tables. Had the situation not been so morbid, Harry would have found it amusing that Pyrites was cheerful about something that was making Lord Voldemort so irritable.
"It's amazing how much like ourselves the two specimens are," Pyrites reported, awed by his discovery.
He's mental! Harry thought, raising his eyebrow. Pyrites never failed to stun him with his behavior.
A corner of Lord Voldemort's mouth twitched.
"What do you suppose we should do next?" Pyrites asked Lord Voldemort as though they were having a picnic together.
"The answer lies somewhere inside their bodies," Lord Voldemort said. "There could be no other explanation for this!" He approached them then. "Get up!" he ordered Tom, but he didn't move from his spot on the floor. "Bastard."
He reached into the barrier, grabbed a mass of Tom's hair, and hoisted him up. "Watch him closely," he ordered Pyrites. "Avada Kedavra!"
Harry looked the other direction, feeling terrible at his action as though he had turned his back on Tom. When the spell was lifted, Harry dared to turn around.
Tom was quivering on the floor, a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. His hands gripped his testicles in pain.
"Fascinating," Pyrites said, crouching down, his eyes glued on Tom. "His brain was one of the very few places affected. Note how he isn't breathing." He glanced down. "I daresay there's even a link in his gonads!"
A chill ran down Harry's spine. They got two out of three places correct...
"Shall I perform the spell once more?" Lord Voldemort offered.
"NO!" Harry screamed angrily, surprising himself. He crawled to Tom's side. "Lay off him! You've hurt him enough already, scum!"
"Language, Potter!" Lord Voldemort threatened, pointing his wand at him. Next to him, Pyrites observed Harry with curiosity.
"Go ahead. Curse me," Harry challenged boldly. Lord Voldemort raised his wand.
"Avada -"
Harry was suddenly knocked backwards. Tom had thrown himself on top of Harry, shielding him.
"Tom..." Harry quietly said. It looked like it had taken all of Tom's energy to move. He was fighting not to pass out.
"How sweet," Pyrites said, snickering. "There appears to be an attraction between the two samplings." Lord Voldemort ignored him.
"Do you wish to receive another round?" Lord Voldemort said threatening to Tom. "I do not think your body can handle it." Tom tightened his arms around Harry, refusing to move.
Harry closed his eyes tight.
"Let him curse me," Harry whispered. "Just let him do it and get it over with!" But Tom didn't move.
"Enough wasting my time!" Lord Voldemort suddenly said. "I believe you have gotten a good idea of the matter, Pyrites? We will start by removing his brain."
Harry shivered. "You can't!" he said desperately, his mind shooting towards the closet with the jars. "You can't! Can't he...can't he have any other use for you?"
Lord Voldemort ignored him.
"How does it feel, child, to know that you will be greatly helping your true self?" Lord Voldemort said. "I could almost forgive you for your...absurdity..."
Harry felt Tom quivering above him; he was frightened, but he still didn't let go of Harry.
"I smell fear..." Lord Voldemort said in a quiet voice. "Yes, you will experience the closest thing to death for my cause, little one. You will understand, I am sure." He laughed coldly again. "Does this remind you of another time when you were an inch from death? Does this open up any old wounds?"
Harry furrowed his eyebrow, confused.
"I am about to introduce you to a spell invented by Severus Snape when he was at Hogwarts. He had his mother's talent." Lord Voldemort waved his arm and cried out "Sectumsempra!"
Before he knew it, Harry, the floor, and the walls were covered in blood. Tom went limp and collapsed on top of Harry. Harry sat up, holding Tom, horrorstruck.
The long scar that ran down Tom's back was gashed open, and blood was pouring out at an alarming rate.
"Merlin!" Harry could barely speak. Lord Voldemort was draining Tom...his skin had gone pale...
The barriers at that moment were lifted. Lord Voldemort and Pyrites were making their way towards them...
Harry gripped Tom, visibly shivering.
Please, let us get away! Harry prayed desperately. He was never active in any religion, and he didn't know how to pray, if there was any correct way of doing so, but his heart kept screaming, praying for anyone, anything. Take us away! Take us away! Save him! Save Tom! TOM!
And then the strangest thing happened. A white light slowly grew from Harry's middle, expanding until it engulfed himself and the unconscious Tom. Lord Voldemort and Pyrites stepped back. Lord Voldemort hissed painfully as though he was scalded from the blinding white light.
And as quickly as it happened, the light disappeared, revealing an empty spot where Harry and Tom had just been.
Because Fiction Alley has disabled anonymous reviews, if you wish to review my story but do not have an account, click here and leave a review.