Chasing Harry

Chapter Nine: Glory

"Draco, he's wearing an eye-patch!"

"Ah, yes. That's Great-Great-Grand-Uncle Cato Malfoy. He ran around with pirates until his father ordered him to come home due to a family emergency. Naturally, he did, but he also brought home a pregnant wife--a Muggle wife. They later died under mysterious circumstances when their Chateau in France burned down. There were no survivors, not even house-elves."

"That's... interesting," Tom muttered with a doubtful expression. They both stared at Uncle Cato's smiling portrait for a full minute. The Pirate-wizard did have an eye-patch and sported a full blond beard that covered half his face. However, his smile was still evident in spite of the substantial amount of hair, and he cheerily waved back at them with his hook--where his left hand used to be.

"Your family has always been against Muggles." It wasn't a question.

Draco glanced at him. "Yes. It's been wired into each of us from the day we were born. We Malfoys have had incredible misfortunes brought to us by Muggle-borns over the centuries, and we all want to avoid that from happening again. There have been a few, like Uncle Cato, who disagreed and rebelled by living amongst Muggles for a while. And look what befell them: they all died horribly or lived miserable lives soon after."

"And you? What do you think?"

"Me?" Draco shrugged. "I agree with the family. I don't like Muggles, and I don't think I ever will."

Tom laughed softly. "That's rather a lie, don't you think? I'm half-muggle, if you really think about it."

"Yes, in a way. But you're different," Draco protested. "You don't like them either."

It was, in more ways than one, a rather disturbing answer. Tom frowned. "How exactly do you see me, Draco?"

Draco was saved from answering by the abrupt arrival of Lucius. The Lord of Malfoy Manor came towards them, fastening his outer cloak as he walked briskly.

"Draco, Tom, I'm sorry I missed your arrival last night. It was rather late and Narcissa and I had gone to bed early. How was the trip?"

"It was fine, Father. We arrived quite late due to a nasty pothole that sank one of the wheels in mud. Luckily, the horseman knew a nifty spell to correct that little misfortune, but it took us forever to make the carriage move. I think it was traumatized." Draco grinned.

"That's strange. I shall look into the matter of that carriage as soon as I can. It's a good thing you arrived safely." Lucius turned to Tom, sizing up the young man shrewdly. "Tom, welcome to the Manor. I hope you'll find your stay pleasant while you're here."

"Thank you. You have a magnificent home, sir. Your son was kind enough to invite me to share the holidays with you and your family."

A smile broke on Lucius' face. It looked quite unusual on him, as if he wasn't used to wearing such a cheery expression. "The pleasure is all mine, Tom. It is all mine," he repeated slowly. "Now, I hope you boys will excuse me for the morning. I need to pay a visit to one of my oldest friends. Have you had your breakfast?"

"Not yet." Draco shook his head. "We're on our way to the dining room. I was just introducing some of our interesting Malfoy ancestors to Tom while we passed."

"Narcissa should be waiting downstairs. She was excited about planning the meal for both of you. Have a good day."

"Bye," both boys echoed as they watched him disappear into the hallway that leads to the staircase.

"Your father..." Tom said later. "He seems happy this morning."

"He's glad to have you here, you see. The news spread quickly: Tom Riddle is staying with the Malfoys during the whole Christmas break. We're the envy of all our friends." Draco laughed. "It's like before, the honor came to the family where You-Know-Who chose to spend the night during his brief forays with civilization."

That struck Tom as funny. He laughed along with Draco, laying a hand on the wall for support. "That's rich. That's really rich." They laughed until they reached the door to the breakfast room, where Narcissa was waiting with their meal on the table.

"It's just too bad though," Tom said quietly, just before they entered.

"What is?"

"It's too bad that I'm not Voldemort." He twisted the knob and opened the door, a smile fixed on his face for the benefit of Draco's mother, ignoring the surprised look on his friend's face right after he said the words.

They were true, after all.

And if it were up to him, he would never be Voldemort.

***

"You let him go?" Coal black eyes narrowed to slits as Severus Snape stared at Albus Dumbledore in anger. "We entrusted you to him! And you let him go?!"

"Stop it, Severus!" Sirius Black stood and faced the angry Professor. "Remember who you're speaking to. Albus has a reason for leaving the boy to his decisions."

"He is not just a boy," Severus seethed, facing his boyhood nemesis. "Tom Riddle is smart. Brilliant even. He is also a ticking time bomb! And we couldn't possibly leave him in Lucius Malfoy's hands after everything that happened before!"

Sirius' brows furrowed. "He can decide where he wants to stay for Christmas. Unlike you, not everyone wants to spend their holidays working over a pile of smelly potions!"

"I had my reasons for letting him go," the previously silent Headmaster interrupted their heated argument. Albus touched his fingertips together thoughtfully. "You don't have to worry about his well-being. I assure you that he is protected far more securely than you think."

"Who's watching him?" Severus asked.

"That I cannot reveal, for reasons that I hope you'd understand. I'm merely protecting the identities of the people involved."

"Protecting their identities!" Severus exploded. "I cannot see why--"

Remus Lupin, who had not spoken a word since the meeting started, suddenly interrupted, "But that's not what we're really worried about," He glanced worriedly at Sirius before uttering the next words. "We know that he is just a child, but is no longer innocent in the ways of the Dark Arts. We don't know how his mind runs, or why he chose to follow that path years ago. It may be Tom, himself, whom we can't completely trust."

Albus straightened on his seat and sighed. "That remains to be seen."

***

"I haven't even finished unpacking." Tom tapped his tummy as he and Draco walked along the Malfoy gardens after breakfast. The ground was covered with freshly fallen snow, and most of the branches were bare, except for a few evergreen shrubs here and there. Narcissa Malfoy had prepared a filling meal, and both boys had tucked in enthusiastically. "I just fell on the bed and slept with all my clothes on last night."

"Yeah, that magical carriage was a headache!" Draco wrinkled his nose. "It's new, you see. Nimbus released a new model in their carriage line, and of course, we just had to have one of those fast, horseless and thestraless things everyone was raving about. There's just one glitch--"

"--They're very emotionally sensitive," Tom finished, laughing.

"Right!" Draco agreed.

They walked for a while, without speaking, before Tom stopped. He stared at one of the bushes for a moment, and suddenly crouched near one, cradling a frail blue blossom with his hand. It stood out against the dark green leaves, bright in the snow's reflected light. "What is this called?" he asked Draco, staring at it fixatedly.

"I don't know," Draco answered, puzzled. "It's Mother who takes care of these plants. We can ask her later."

"No, it's not important." Tom smiled, a faraway look on his face. "When I was younger, there was only one thing I really treasured. It was a letter from her. The parchment smelt like flowers--these flowers--and she always smelled like that whenever she held me in my dreams.

"My mother felt the need to tell me how she loved me, even just in writing, before she finally took her life and left me alone."

"She took her life?" Draco blurted out, shocked. He had always thought that Tom's mother had died in childbirth. Apparently, the truth was more painful than that.

"Yes, didn't you know?" He glanced at Draco, slightly surprised. "I suppose I never told anyone before. By that time, no one even cared. She had left her family and her home to be with him--and all he did in return was leave her alone with a baby he didn't want."

"Tom... why are you telling me this?" Draco asked, slightly worried. The Tom in front of him was the same person he had seen, for a mere second, while they were at Honeydukes months ago. It was a different person from the Tom he knew--this was the boy who had been a Dark Lord.

"Because you never did answer my question." Tom stood and faced Draco, putting his hands on his shoulder. He sighed, imploring his friend with his eyes. "I need to hear it from you. What do you think of me, my friend?"

They were green. Intense. Tom stared at him desperately, as if he needed to find for the answer he had been wishing to hear. What else could Draco possibly say but the truth?

"You?" The seconds stretched. "You're my friend who loves to eat spider crunchies--which is disgusting, in my opinion. But it's all right, I still accept you."

The green eyes widened, blinked. Tom opened his mouth in surprise. And he laughed. He laughed, loudly, punching Draco on the shoulder with mirth. "Sometimes, Draco, you just kill me."

"I know, Tom." He hid a grin, slinging an arm around Tom's shoulders. "I know."

They walked on, silent all the way to the end of the vast garden.

It was the truth. And it was exactly what Tom needed to hear.

***

"Draco!"

"Greg?" Draco woke. He had been dozing in the library, lounged comfortably onto one of the big, plushy couches they had there when he thought he had heard Gregory Goyle's voice. "Tom, I think I dreamt about Greg."

"It's not a dream, you ninny." Tom tossed him a piece of rolled up parchment, hitting Draco squarely on cheek. "Greg really is here. And Vince, too."

"Heya, Tom!" Vincent Crabbe waved to them cheerily from the library door. Both newcomers entered the room and sat beside a dumbfounded Draco.

"What in the world are you two doing here?" He exclaimed, rubbing one eye with his right hand.

"Father had to leave for a few days. He thought it would be better for us to stay here with you while he's gone than move around the house alone. So Mr. Malfoy picked us up," Greg explained slowly.

"Mr. Goyle said he'd be back just before Christmas, and that we'd all spend it together. Isn't that great?" Vincent asked excitedly.

"Well, yes. Of course that would be fun." Draco smiled leisurely. "I didn't expect we'd have more company. But I'm glad you two are here."

"That reminds me... Draco, what are you doing in the library?" Greg asked, mystified. "I didn't know you liked to read so much."

"Normally I'd play Quidditch. But this guy here," Draco tossed the scrunched-up parchment back at Tom, who ducked just in time, "insisted on wasting a perfectly good afternoon among the musty books of our magnificent collection."

"Hah! I wouldn't get on a broomstick even if you paid me," Tom sniffed. He picked a slim volume and showed it to them. "Look at this! Magic Between Points by Frida Mathilde, the legendary Mage of the 18^th Century. She outlined the basic guidelines of how she controls her magic even without a wand. This is a very rare book and is hardly found anywhere else. Of course, it's rather hard and it works very rarely but it's still an interesting read and is much more useful than an afternoon on a broomstick--" He suddenly stopped. They were all staring at him with disbelieving eyes. "What?"

"I would really much rather play Quidditch," Vince blurted out.

Draco smirked. "Tom is our resident geek. He needs to feed his brain at least once an hour or he'll feel stupid like us broomstick enthusiasts."

"Oh, all right! Let's go play your ridiculous game." Shaking his head, Tom arranged the books on a neat pile before standing. "Honestly, children today have no culture."

"And who are you to say that?"

"For your information, I was born fifty years before you!"

"Yeah, but you spent the whole time in a diary with zero intellectual and emotional growth."

"Don't remind him," Vince whispered. "He's sensitive about his height. He thinks he's too tall."

Tom swore he could feel the veins throb in his head. "Vince, how the hell did the... Never mind. Let's just go."

Draco stifled his laughter and opened the door. "So, Tom, you are going to play, am I right?"

"Not on your life." He adjusted his scarf with dignity and said, "But I am going to watch."

***

"It's too dangerous." Lucius tried to keep the worry from his voice, but Taylor knew exactly how he felt. They had known each other for more than twenty years, and he could read Lucius like a book, no matter how the blond tried to keep his thoughts in check. "I should be the one going."

"No. I know the area more than you do," Taylor countered. He suddenly smiled, the sides of his brown eyes crinkling softly. "Besides, you'd just get lost there. Or get kidnapped. I heard the Romanian wizards are very fond of blonds."

"This isn't the time to be funny." Lucius raised a brow, frowning at his companion. "I was serious. Be careful. Our whole operation rests on your success. We may never have a chance like this."

"And I thought you were really worried about me," Taylor joked. He glanced up at the Manor's gates, before looking back at Lucius. "Was it wise to bring my son with you?"

"Yes. Gregory and Vincent could provide ample distraction... when the time comes."

"Of course. It is always our Lord that matters." He lost the smile. He stepped away from Lucius and prepared to Apparate. "Take care of yourself, Lucius."

"I'll do that. And you..." Taylor disappeared in a flash. "...you take care," Lucius finished.

He just hoped he could hear him from afar.

***

She laughed, loving the fact that she had already spent two whole days with him. Ron was easy to persuade. He would, after all, do anything his baby sister asked of him... even letting Harry alone for hours on end.

"So what do you think of my game?" she smiled, touching his arm lightly.

"You played well, Gin. It's a very big improvement from last year." The sweat clung to his forehead, the dark hair transformed into wet, black locks that still dripped when he moved.

He was beautiful.

Beautiful to her. She smiled. She would surely have him before New Year. She could feel it in her heart. For he must love her back. Didn't he?

Harry stopped. A strange cold feeling crept up his back. It disappeared almost instantly after he felt it. What was that supposed to be? A warning? He frowned, disturbed.

"Harry, what is it?" Ginny's voice brought him back to the present.

"Nothing. It was just... I was just feeling a little dizzy."

"Tsk, tsk. You practice too hard. Here," she reached out, "take my hand. I'll walk you to your room and make sure you won't fall."

He doubted if she could support him if the moment came. Still, he was thankful for her help. And if he really thought about it, she had been highly supportive of him especially since the start of the break. "Thank you Ginny," Harry smiled. "I really appreciate this."

She looked down. "It's no trouble, no trouble at all." As long as you stay with me.

***

-December 23-

He waited in the dark at the road down the back of the Manor near the forests. His face was almost covered by his large black cloak. The man's footsteps were hurried, nervous. He was obviously waiting for somebody. But who?

A carriage rolled onto the road. It was running too fast for it's size, and it would've hit the waiting man if the horseman had not pulled the reins quickly, frightening the horse as it kicked its hooves to the air.

Lucius approached the carriage eagerly. "Is he there?"

Taylor nodded. He jumped off the driver's seat and opened the door of the carriage, revealing the passenger inside.

Lucius stared in awe before he spoke, "He is waiting."

From the darkness inside, a hand spotted with age reached out and grasped Lucius' wrist. "Good. I would need him pliant."

"As you wish, my lord."

***

Where was he?

Lucius searched frantically through the Manor. He needed Tom. Now!

Where would the children go on a cold night like this...?

He passed the library and nearly walked past it. He knew Draco never read at this hour, so he assumed that his friends would not either. He noticed someone inside and did a double-take.

"Tom!"

Tom looked up, surprised. He had not noticed Lucius approaching. He was too engrossed in the book he was reading. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"I would need your help for a moment with a package." Smile, Lucius. Relax. "Would you be kind enough to assist me for a while?"

"Certainly," Tom agreed easily. He stood from his chair, eyes downcast. Later, much later, he would curse himself for forgetting the past, even for an instant. He knew who Lucius Malfoy was, and what he was capable of. He just never admitted it to himself that the nightmare could come alive one more time.

He never did see the wand, much less the spark of the spell that hit him.

Lucius closed his eyes. It had been a while, and even if this was his Lord, he still savored the pleasure of giving it. "Imperio."

***

The world was a blur, and he was merely a speck on the confusion.

"It has been a while, child."

"What?" Tom's vision swam. He tried to sit up, but soon found that he could not. His body refused to move from the bed where he was lain. His legs and arms were merely heavy, useless stumps. And why was it dark? "Who--"

"I'm surprised you don't remember. You had come to seek once before. But of course! You were different then. Still, I'm very pleased to see you again. I had, after all, put a lot of my hopes on you a long time ago." The invisible voice bent nearer. He could sense his age, and also the danger. Tom could feel the warmth of a body come closer to him. At that moment, he despised himself for fearing it--fearing him. "I have waited for you to come again." Hot breath swept over his cheeks.

"Who are you?" he sounded apprehensive, and he knew it. If only he could see! Please, let him see!

"He can speak!" The stranger's voice sharpened. It was directed at someone else. "You said he was under the Imperius."

"He resists it well," Lucius Malfoy?

"Should he be under that spell?" Another voice, it sounded worried. This one was familiar to Tom, but he couldn't think clearly in his present condition.

He tried to will himself to move, but he couldn't. His mere effort was making him tired and he felt the strength of the Imperius taking over his will with each passing second. Soon, he might pass out once more.

"No." It was the stranger once again. "Take it off."

His limbs lightened all of a sudden. But before he could even think of getting away, something else hit him.

Suddenly, he was falling.

Down, where it was too deep to see.

The pit was endless. Ice cold. And he was alone.

***

"Tom."

He opened his eyes. He was back in the mists. It was the same place, in a different dream. "Am I dreaming again?"

"No. This is very real." The dark eyes gleamed. "You should be thankful."

Tom frowned. "Thankful? Why? You merely confuse me. Tell me exactly what you have to say."

Rich, chilling laughter echoed through the air. The sound was thick, traveling through the murky atmosphere that swirled around their bodies. As far as Tom could see, nothing had changed. There was just him, and this man. The smoke writhed faster, flowing with their conversation. "Do you remember what I asked you the last time we met?"

"Yes," he answered hesitantly, a few moments later. "You said... you said you were me."

"I wasn't lying." The dark stranger stepped nearer, taking the boy's hands in his own. "This has always been our home. This is our place, where we become one person."

"Wh- what are you trying to do?" The cold shivered down his back. He was no longer afraid, but he also held a terrible fascination for the wizard. Tom could sense his power, and his strength. The magic trembled where they touched, and he dared not think of what he planned to do with him.

"Tom Riddle," the wizard whispered. He released his hands, holding the boy's shoulders gently instead. Slowly, he kissed Tom's forehead. It was fleeting, soft--it was everything the boy had never expected.

Tom felt a long finger travel down his chest. All of a sudden, he felt a cold blade pierce through his skin, and saw the warm blood gush through his robe. He stared at himself in horror as the pain slowly traveled in heated waves over his icy skin.

"Who are you?" he gasped.

"Don't you recognize me?" The wizard's eyes widened. "We are both his sons--the sons of Slytherin."

Was it-- No! Tom shook his head as he tried to banish the thought that entered his head. "No, it couldn't be." He bent, the pain almost overcoming all of his strength.

"Yes, it won't be long now," Grindelwald smiled. "Succeed where I have failed. Make me proud once more."

***

The dagger glittered, crimson beneath the faint rays of the moon. The old wizard's tired eyes lighted in triumph as he witnessed the transformation before his gaze.

"My brother, I see you."

***

Taylor stood outside the door, the worry evident in his expression. "He doesn't sound good."

"Then don't listen." Lucius touched his arm, prodding him gently to turn away. "Let's go. We shouldn't even be here."

"How can I possibly stay away? Our Lord is there, inside--they have been locked in that room for a whole night and I have heard nothing but pain! Lucius, have we been foolish with trusting him?"

"Do you know what you're saying?" Lucius turned to him angrily. "You are speaking about the only wizard in this world who could possibly turn Tom Riddle into the man he used to be--the Lord he is supposed to become! This is not the time to start doubting what we have started." He grabbed Taylor's shoulders and shook him, his voice urgent. "Do you realize the importance of what is happening in there? Do you?!"

"I do!" He shrugged Lucius' hands off, scowling. "But I can't help thinking... he is only just a boy. Powerful, yes, but still a child. Lucius, he could even be your son!"

A shadow passed over Lucius' eyes, but they disappeared in a moment. "He is very, very different from Draco." He gazed back at the closed door. "He had done this to himself once. He should be able to withstand it at least one more time."

"You are speaking of the man who died. He was much older then," Taylor argued. "This is a whole new experience for this boy, he may even be unripe for it. He is the same, but who knows if he holds different thoughts or different goals. Our Lord was driven by a dream. This boy has killed that dream within, if we are to believe what he said before."

"Ah, but you said it yourself." Lucius' mouth twitched. "If."

A wrenching scream tore through the dividing door, startling both men back to reality.

"It's just like you to doubt everything when it's too late to turn back." Lucius glanced at his companion defiantly. "It's too late now. It is done."

"No." Taylor shook his head, sighing. "It has just begun."

***

"NOOO!" Harry sat up from his bed, screaming. He stared at the air, eyes wide, gasping. A minute later, he placed a hand on his chest and inhaled deeply, willing his breath to slow to its normal pace. The sheets were soaked with his sweat.

"Nightmare?" Ron groaned sleepily from his bed.

"Huh? Yes," Harry answered. He gulped, swallowing the painful lump that blocked his throat. "It was just a dream."

"Oh." Ron turned to the other side, facing his back to his roommate. "Go to sleep, Harry. It's still bloody dark outside."

Harry lay down hesitantly. He doubted if he could sleep again. This was no ordinary nightmare. It felt too real, and too familiar. He had felt the pain like it was his own, and saw the blood on his own skin. And his scar... his scar had burned when he screamed.

But it couldn't be. Voldemort was dead, wasn't he?

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. Forget it, Harry. It was just a silly nightmare. Stop thinking about the past.

He had calmed down somewhat, and was almost on his way to sleep, when a familiar ache stung through his forehead. Harry's eyes snapped opened. This was no dream!

He saw those eyes--the same green that stared down at him with longing that one night, long ago, when they allowed themselves to forget. But they were different now, for they were filled with fear... fear and something else. Something unspeakable.

"Tom," he whispered, aghast. "Tom is in danger!"

-TBC-