Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. It belongs to the wonderful people at Warner Brothers and Bloomsburg and Scholastic and of course J K Rowling.
Summary: Harry Potter's life is about to change forever when he finds out the truth about his mother and makes a decision that can and will effect the entire wizarding world. TR/OC HP/DM and various other pairings.
Warning: This is Slash, which means two guys in a relationship in case you didn't know. This story will have other plot lines but if this bothers you then leave now. This will also be MPreg, which means that a male character will become pregnant. While I don't plan on going into intense detail this is an element of the story and if this bothers you than you should also stay away.
Authors note: This is my second attempt at fan fiction and my first attempt at slash. Criticism is welcome but if you plan on giving me a review about how wrong male/male relationships are and that is the only problem that you have with the story than please don't write the review. I have given you fair warning about the nature of this fic. SLASH and MPREG.
***
Chapter six: Moments
In a town far away from bars like the Hog's Head and alleys like Diagon, a young woman opened her kitchen window and set about making her breakfast. The sun was shinning and the morning forecast had predicted the good weather to last through the whole weekend. She set herself down at the table and started to flip through the pages of the newspaper when she saw an advertisement and choked on her juice in shock.
"They're advertising for a teacher in the paper?" Chloe, for that was the young woman's name, muttered quietly. She was almost finished buttering her toast when an idea struck her and she dropped everything, sprung from her chair and, in her haste, knocked the paper from the table sending the separate pages in several different directions.
She didn't notice. She had an idea; an idea that would change everything.
Chloe twisted the top off of her ink bottle and moistened the tip of her quill before requesting an audience with the Headmaster of Hogwarts to discuss her future with the school. In short, she made Dumbledore an offer he really couldn't refuse, oh he'd want to refuse it, but it was just too good to pass up.
She sent her owl away with the note and finally noticed the mess of papers. Cursing softly, Chloe bent down and grabbed the closest sheet, and knew what it said without reading.
Events were moving along as scheduled. People were in place, and now… now, with her idea, the plan was really set in motion.
The minister was missing, Lucius was out of the way, and the family was about to be split apart. Her people were done fighting for the big picture, the good versus evil; they were about to tackle the moments. They were done with peaceful negotiations and heartfelt apologies. The time for that was over, and they were living in a brand new world, or they were about to be. It wasn't going to be like the last time around…no. That first sip of drink, that chance meeting – those were the things that mattered.
The rest is history.
***
It was a particularly cool June afternoon that Tom Riddle found himself walking the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though this was a normal activity for the first year, today's walk was spent on a special reflection. Tom was thinking about his latest Charms class, and what had come out of their latest lesson.
Tom hadn't spent a lot of time with the new teacher, Flitwick, but he seemed like an emotional type…. Maybe it wasn't so horrible – being the heir to Slytherin.
Maybe Flitwick had called him back after class to tell him the results of his heritage charm because he was respecting his privacy.
Maybe… maybe, it was a horrible thing. It wasn't as though he knew much about Salazar Slytherin – even though he was sorted into the man's house. They hadn't covered the founders yet in History of Magic, so besides the usual rumors that the older years passed around to the younger years to scare them, he didn't really know much about the guy.
He tripped over a root that was sticking out of the ground as another though entered his mind.
What if being the heir to Slytherin meant he was going to turn into some horrible monster?
He didn't want to be a monster! At least he didn't think he wanted to be…. He wanted fame, recognition, and a long and privileged life. Considering what he had been through so far, he didn't feel that he was asking for much.
Tom's mind drifted back to his childhood. As he began to search through his memories – trying to pinpoint one that might show signs of evilness (he couldn't find any) – he stopped paying attention to his surroundings.
So it came as a big surprise when he slammed into the back of someone. He lost his footing, and was surprised when he felt arms go around him in an attempt to find his place. He looked up and opened his mouth to apologize when he saw exactly who it was that he bumped into.
Jennifer Grindelwald. The daughter of the Dark wizard Grindelwald.
Grindelwald – who had teamed up with that Muggle, Hitler, so that he could kill all the Muggles (or some such nonsense).
"Are you all right?" Tom squeaked. "I didn't see you – I –."
Jennifer ran a hand through Tom's hair, soothingly. "I'm fine Tom… I'm actually glad you ran into me, you're a hard boy to find."
"You were looking for me?" He asked, amazed. Jennifer, a seventh year, was looking for him. Jennifer, who was worldly and smart and cunning and… well, some people said she was evil, but obviously none of those people had heard her say his name. …Jennifer with her long red hair and sparkling green eyes. It rolled off of her tongue like she had said it a million times before… and no one that evil could possibly be so pretty.
"I heard about your Charms class."
Tom's face fell into an automatic sneer. "Oh, is that what you're here about? To find out why I'm the only one who doesn't have a heritage." She couldn't possibly know the real reason why he had to stay after class so that Flitwick, himself, could perform the spell for him, just in case he had done it wrong – as though he were some sort of invalid. She couldn't possibly know the results – Flitwick told him that he would keep it between them.
"Of course you have a heritage, Tom. In fact, I might say that you have the best one."
Tom shot her a sharp look. She knew!
"No one told me, or anything, so don't worry about your secret – it's safe." She smiled and in an instant, Tom believed her.
"Then how…?"
She leaned down so that she was more on his level. "I have a few secrets of my own, Tom. You'll come to find that everyone does." She reached into her robes and pulled out a small leather bound book, and handed it to him.
"What's this for?"
"It's the answer, Tom." She turned to walk away and Tom opened the book – only to find it blank.
"There isn't anything here!" Tom called after her.
"You just have to ask the right question, Tom. I believe we'll see each other again." Her voice, though she was a good distance away, surrounded him.
When he looked up from the book seconds later, she was gone.
***
It wasn't until the summer was almost over that he finally was able to crack the puzzle of what Tom had begun to call 'the journal'.
He had tried everything. Tom had even snuck his wand out, while the other children in the orphanage were sleeping. Not that he could have used magic – it was against Ministry rules, but he had to try something. The journal was really getting to him… it was always there in the back of his mind, urging him to figure out its secret. Tom tried speaking aloud, asking it a question, with and without his wand. He tried writing inside of it, but nothing happened. The first page still read, every time he opened it – This Diary Belongs To: Thomas Marvolo Riddle Jr.
It wasn't until he handed it to his roommate, John, that he realized what he had done wrong.
John had sat there for a few minutes, with a number two pencil, writing before he jumped away from the book, wide-eyed, and shaking. When Tom moved over to collect the book, he too dropped it in surprise.
The pages were covered in what looked to be English, lines that looked like the ones a heart monitor might make, and what appeared to be some sort of Hieroglyphics.
He ran over to John, who was cowering in a corner – and started to shake his shoulders.
"What did you write in it? What did you write?"
"I – I wrote about S-sally." John said, looking like he might vomit any second.
"What about her?" Tom demanded, caring more about his newfound discovery than John's scare at the moment.
"I wrote that I like her." John mumbled. "I told her two months ago and she won't talk to me anymore."
Tom released his grip on the boy's shoulders and looked down at him. "That's it – that's all you wrote."
"I asked, well, this is g-going to sound stupid, but I asked it if it could help me. But then all that writing just appeared, and everything that I wrote inside of it had disappeared. What is it, Tom? Do you think that it's demonic?"
But Tom had stopped listening after John had told him about the question.
"You just have to ask the right question, Tom."
Tom ran to pick up the diary and then up to his room, where he drew the curtains around his bed, and took out a quill and a bottle of ink. When he opened the book again it was blank, and he worried for a minute that all of the writing would disappear every time he closed it, but that would be useless, and he didn't think that Jennifer would give him something useless.
He spent the next hour writing about his life and the Charms class, and Jennifer. Finally ending with:
"I need to know what it means to be the heir of Slytherin. Can you help me?"
And just as John claimed, all of the words that Tom had written were gone, and in its place was a book filled with not only English, but what appeared to be Egyptian, and a language that looked like nothing he had ever seen before. He closed the book and opened it again. He was filled with relief and excitement as the writing was still there.
He didn't know then, but Tom would spend a good part of the next four years deciphering what was in that book.
***
He was very surprised to see Jennifer during the first Hogsmeade weekend of his third year. It had been a little under two and a half years since he had last seen her, and if it was possible she had grown even more beautiful.
She was sitting there at the counter, her long red hair was pulled back into a braid – she was the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. He raised his head a few inches, put a confidant expression on his face, and swerved away from his friends and walked over to the bar.
Jennifer turned to him, as he sat beside her, completely shocking all of his friends – who eventually just shook their heads, and went to find their own table.
The bartender turned his attention on Tom, who ordered a butter beer, and snuck a quick glance at Jennifer.
She waited until the gray-haired man turned his attention to someone else looking for a drink.
"I am very impressed." She said quietly.
Ah, so she knew that he'd cracked the puzzle, then.
"It wasn't quite so difficult. I imagine that translating it will be much harder – I've already done all of the Hieroglyphics, and the English didn't need to be translated…"
"And you haven't even figured out what the third is yet." Jennifer mused aloud, and then smiled at Tom's shocked look.
"Let me guess…it's another one of your secrets?" He asked.
"One of my many. However – it isn't the reason I'm here."
"Well, why are you here?"
She set her drink down on the counter and whipped the sides of her mouth with a napkin before turning on her seat to face him directly. "I have a proposition. I have told my father much about you. When you come of age he wishes for you to become a part of the family business."
Tom perked up instantly. One of the greatest wizards in the world wanted him to work for them? Not one of his old reservations about how wrong Grindelwald was about Muggles ever entered his mind; it almost felt like they had never been there to begin with.
She laughed at him. "Don't get too excited. There is so much more that you need to learn, and that is why I'm here. To teach you."
"How? During the year I'm busy with classes and during the summer I – well, I can't."
"There used to be an inn, above here… but the thing is – they never knocked it down, they couldn't. All they could do was to have the Ministry cloak it, which they had a friend of my father's do. So he knows the exact location, which means that," She reached inside of her pocket and pulled out an ordinary looking silver chain and handed it to Tom, "He could make this."
Tom took it and fastened it around his neck after checking with Jennifer to make sure that he could. It didn't feel special. "What is it?"
He could have sworn that her eyes twinkled at that. "You're to meet me every Saturday at midnight." She turned back to her drink.
"How do I use it?" Tom asked, feeling ignorant and hating himself for it.
She studied him seriously for a moment. "All you have to do is wear it, and think of me, and, of course, you'd have to want to be there." Then she threw a few Sickles on the counter, and hopped off the barstool. But before she left, she spoke to him again.
"That last language is Mermish."
He could have sworn he heard the laughter in those words – Mermish, indeed. He hadn't even known that a person could write that down – but apparently old Salazar had managed it.
He finished the rest of his drink before reaching over to pay the barman.
"The young lady covered it." He said gruffly.
Tom's eyes widened and he walked to the table his friends had grabbed in a daze.
"Wasn't that Grindelwald's daughter?" Tar asked, almost before Tom had even sat down.
Joseph let out a low whistle. "What are you getting into, eh, Tom?"
Tom shot a glare at Joe. "…Whatever I want to get into. Isn't that right?"
The two boys looked at him curiously before shifting their eyes to the surface of the table.
***
"When did you take up drawing?" John asked quietly.
Tom jumped off of his bed, where he was reading one of his homework assignments, cleverly concealed to show an unremarkable leaf of paper to anyone who was without magic. "What do you mean?"
John was holding one of his books up and Tom looked at him in confusion, before he realized that it was that book. He rushed forward and, knocking over his Charms homework, grabbed the book out of his friend's hand.
"Alright… do you mind letting me in on what the hell is going on with you lately? First you come back from school in a mood, if I've ever seen one –."
"– I was not in a mood!"
"And then you spend the rest of the summer sulking, or reading… you're always too busy…" John cut himself off. "Now you're suddenly an artist."
"I really don't know what you're talking about." Tom snapped. "I told you at the beginning of the summer that I had a lot of work to do. As for the drawings, I can honestly say that you are seeing things. The only 'pictures' in that book are the hieroglyphics that I only finished translating this past year."
John raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "I'm seeing things, am I?" He reached forward and took the book back from Tom. He turned to the first page and shoved it under Tom's nose. "This page is covered in snake drawings."
Tom adjusted the book so that it was quite so close to his eyes and looked the page over carefully. After his third look over, he dropped it in astonishment when the English letters that he'd been reading all this time slowly morphed into tiny intricately drawn snakes. It happened so quickly that it was almost too much for his mind to process. Tom bent over and picked up the book, and feeling very foolish, he studied the drawings carefully, rotating the book ever so often.
"You really didn't see the drawings." John said slowly, as though testing the words. "I don't understand."
"Yes, well, there are rather a lot of things that you wouldn't understand." Tom snapped.
"I've put up with a lot this summer, but I refuse to stand here and allow you to insult me. You don't want to tell me what's going on with you, that is fine, but do not take it out on me."
"You wouldn't understand…" Tom pushed past John with the book clutched in his hand. He would have slammed the door but he wasn't in the mood to clean the dishes for the rest of the week.
***
It wasn't until he was fourteen years old that she taught him, what the Ministry had recently named, the Unforgivables. It seemed like his whole education was leading up to this point.
One year of terrible nightmares, about destruction and death. He felt what these people (he assumed they were the ones that Grindelwald was off killing) had felt. He had died with them – but Jennifer told him that it was part of his training. She said that in order to be strong he had to know what it was like to feel weak.
There were nights that he seriously considered giving up. He was sure that if he went to Headmaster Dippet that he could stop the dreams. That he could close his eyes without seeing their faces.
It was usually only a passing thought – the hopelessness passed after he held onto the chain that she had given him.
He didn't want to disappoint her, did he?
All that hard work, all that time she had spent training him, it shouldn't be for nothing, now, should it?
The orphanage – his horrible childhood – it all just seemed so far away, and pointless when he was with her, but sometimes he remembered what it was like before he had found out about himself.
Sometimes he worried that he was turning into that horrible monster, that he never wanted to be.
Except that most of the time, he couldn't bother himself to care. And, sometimes....
Sometimes when he got a glimpse at the power that was dormant inside of him…he wanted it more than he wanted to take his next breath of air. Jennifer showed him that part of himself, the power that could, and would, give him that recognition that he longed for. He was going to escape his childhood one way or another; Hogwarts wasn't going to cast him aside. They were going to remember him.
Children everywhere would fear his name.
***
Tom was walking down the path that led to John and his secret alcove in the woods, when he heard a soft crunching noise generate from behind one of the trees. He grabbed John and pulled the both of them into one of the ditches that the younger children had dug out to hide in, when Mrs. Brinkler (one of their house moms) was in one of her moods. He put in single, long finger up to his lips to signal that John should keep it quiet.
John rolled his eyes. "You've been really jumpy lately. Look, it's probably just one of the Reinhardt's cats, or it could have been a squirrel." He jumped up and began patting dirt off of his slacks. "You're just being paranoid."
Tom got up slowly and looked back at the schoolyard where John and he were supposed to be in. Even though it wasn't during the school year, someone from the orphanage would volunteer to take all of the children to the playground once a week. Usually Tom and John declined the offer, but this time they had decided to sneak off and go visit their old hangout. Tom didn't know why, but for the last couple of days he had the strangest feeling that someone was following him. The last thing he needed was for that person, or thing, to find him wandering away from Brinkler.
They continued the walk without any more interruption and found their tree house. Well, Tom thought, it wasn't exactly theirs. John and he had found it the first time they snuck away from the school, almost seven years ago. He reached forward and grabbed hold of the slanted boards that had been nailed into the tree bark many years ago. The climb was over too soon, Tom realized, and he felt for the first time that he had grown up. He leaned against one of the more stable walls and waited for John to follow him. He could hear the scraping of the younger boy's feet (John never really was a very good climber – Tom supposed it had something to do with the way his parents had died, thrown from a three story roof top). Just he was about to reach the top, in Tom's mind he was transported back to a time when he was a boy, and John knew everything there was to know about him… there weren't any secrets kept, no matter how big. And when John's older and hardened eyes swam into view, Tom nearly opened his mouth and confessed it all: the magic, Jennifer, Hogwarts, his other friends. In that same second when his mouth had opened just enough to explain why he was moody all the time, tell him that he had killed a woman – he came to his senses and his lips were pressed together in a thin line.
John sat down next to him and kicked off his shoes. They sat for a few minutes in silence before John leaned back against the wall and shifted his eyes in Tom's direction. A few minutes passed and he repeated the action.
"What is it?" Tom asked.
"What… what are you going to do when you finish school?" John said in a tumble of words.
Tom froze. What was he going to do? Become a dark Wizard? He hadn't really thought about his future beyond Jennifer. "I don't know." He risked a glance at his friend. "Why?"
"Oh." John started. "It's just that you're going to that school and, well, you never really tell me what it is you study there. I suppose I was curious."
"A friend of mine, from school, says that she can arrange for me to work for her father; I'm not sure what he does." Tom ventured.
A smile crept onto John's face. "You haven't mentioned her before." He nudged Tom playfully.
Tom glared. "There wasn't anything to mention." In a desperate move to turn the conversation away from Jennifer he asked, "What is it that you want to do?"
"I'd like to be a writer." John said proudly.
"What would you write about?" John had never mentioned an interest in writing before, though Tom supposed it shouldn't surprise him. John was very intelligent for his age.
He turned very serious. "You can't laugh."
Tom shrugged.
"I'd like to write about History." John said quietly.
"…Really?" Tom's eyebrows shot into his hairline.
"I think that it's important for people to learn about the past." John rushed on, defending himself. "We are what we have been, right? Sure sometimes we change, but for the most part, I think that the past will always be a part of who we are." He risked a glance at Tom, who was thinking about what John was saying very carefully. "I sound like a mad man, don't I?"
Tom relaxed his expression. "Of course not… some might even agree that you have a point." He gave John a half smile.
John's eyes lit up with excitement. "Would you go over my ideas with me?"
Tom considered. "What's in it for me?"
"I don't have any money… I could dedicate the book to you."
"I do believe that you have yourself a deal, Mr. Fleet."
John laughed, "Now if we can only make it to our 16th Birthdays!"
***
Tom yawned and covered his mouth, after catching a disapproving glare from the librarian. He turned over another book and read the title silently.
Mermagic, and all of its contents.
He doubted that book would hold the key for translating Slytherin's Journal so he set it aside with the rest of the books that he had already gone through. He glanced at the pile that was becoming dangerously high, and increasingly unsteady. There were only three more books left out of the entire library's stock of Merpeople books; he had been combing through the rest of them since dinner, which was ages ago.
What Tom really wanted to do was to ask for Dumbledore's help. Rumor had it that the man could speak several different languages including Mermish. He suspected that Jennifer wouldn't like that very much. She had mentioned once that she had an intense dislike for his new Transfiguration teacher. He had a great deal of respect for Jennifer. She was intelligent, cunning, and almost always right. She was the perfect Slytherin, so it was only natural that he would start to have feelings for her, right? Well maybe not… there were times (mostly when he was caught between sleep and waking) that he would feel like he was being released from a spell, and that everything was suddenly so clear. All he had were those few minutes every day where he was lucid enough to recognize that he was changing slowly, yes, but changing….
And like all of his moments of clarity, this one passed as well. Tom remembered nothing of it, and continued his work on the translation. He could hear a voice in the back of his head, urging him, finish it. He had to finish it by the end of this year or none of it was worth anything, and besides… he didn't want to disappoint her, did he?
***
"Professor Dippet, I really must ask you to reconsider." Tom plastered a fake smile onto his face. He needed this, they needed this.
"I've already told you twice, Mr. Riddle. Even if the school wasn't in danger of being closed down – Hogwarts does not permit students to stay in their dorms during the summer. I realize that your situation – well, I realize it is rather… unfortunate." The Headmaster diverted his eyes to a pile of papers that was threatening to take over his desk.
Tom supposed that it was easier for him to let students down without looking at them. "Keep your chin up, lad. It is only for another year. If you'll excuse me I do have a lot of work to catch up on."
"I understand, sir. I'll just leave you to it." He rose from his chair, and slipped his wand out of his sleeve. Right before he turned to leave he pointed it at Dippet, and then changed his mind. It wasn't time for that yet.
That Saturday he went to her, just as he had for the last three and a half years. She didn't look up from the book she was reading.
"You didn't get his permission." Her voice was filled with disappointment. Disappointment in him. She expected him to lay the world at her feet and yet she never bothered to tell him why or how, only when and now.
"He's afraid – all of the teachers are. A girl was killed." A girl, a crying, annoying, worthless witch. She would never have amounted to anything. She was an accident, one he had paid dearly for with Jennifer. The snake was only meant to instill fear in the heart of Hogwarts for now, Tom. Did I tell you to kill anyone, Tom? Did my father tell you to?
"You're a prefect, maybe it's time you exercised your authority. I'm sure it won't be too hard for you to capture the heir of Slytherin."
"That would be a wonderful plan, Jenny. Only I am the heir of Slytherin."
"Do I have to think of everything?" She snapped. "No one knows who the heir is, frame someone."
No one knows, anymore, you mean. Not since I wiped Professor Flitwick's mind clear of the event. "Who…?"
"Pick someone, anyone. So long as the person isn't on our side, than it doesn't really matter to me." So many lives mean nothing to you. Not the woman you allowed me to test Avada Kedavra on, not crying, whining, Myrtle who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, not Tom's. Maybe Tom's. He wouldn't know; she never told him anything anymore.
"If I frame someone, and they're caught – it'll have to stop. I can't get away with it anymore." So many years of hard work. For what? For some grandiose plan that she hadn't bothered to clue him in on.
"That's fine. I'd say you taught old Hogwarts a lesson. Dumbledore must be upset… he couldn't save that girl. I don't think he'll be in any shape to oppose my father anytime soon. The traitor."
And it all came down to daddy. He was really the only one she cared about.
"I don't understand why I have to stay over Hogwarts during the summer. I can always use the necklace at the orphanage." Tom said, irritated. It had been a lot of work – translating the diary, opening the chamber, and now it was all for nothing.
"Not everything is about you. When you find out why I needed you at Hogwarts, then I guarantee that you'll be down on your knees thanking me – but until then…."
"Don't you trust me?" Tom snapped, annoyed.
Jennifer sighed and pulled herself out of the armchair. She walked over to Tom and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. "I trust you. But there are things that you can't know. Tom, believe me when I say this, I'm doing this for you. Do you have faith in me?"
"Yes." No. Maybe.
Jennifer let go of the boy's chin and took a step back. "Good. I think that'll be all for tonight." She went back to her chair, but instead of taking her seat she picked up the book she had been reading and handed it to a confused Tom.
"It's never for nothing." She said quietly, before turning away.
Just as he grabbed hold of his chain he glanced at the title.
How to live on, when you're gone
***
Tom looked up from his summer reading when the wall to the Slytherin common room slid apart.
Headmaster Dippet was standing in the opening with his head hung down, and he was looking at the floor. When Tom shifted in his chair to look behind the Professor, he found Dumbledore.
Calmly, he laid his books down on the table and rose to meet his teachers. Dippet was looking at him with something akin to pity – and he couldn't read Dumbledore's expression.
"We need you to accompany us, Mr. Riddle." Dippet said softly.
"Where?"
When they arrived at the orphanage, it appeared to be fine from the outside. Except for the front door that had been knocked right off its hinges, everything was as he had seen it last.
He immediately broke away from his Professors and ran past the officers who were calling after him, waving badges in his face. He didn't see any of it. Only one thought entered his mind.
I have to see if he's alive.
He'd hated that entire place. It was the only home he'd ever known, probably the only one he ever would know, and he'd hated it. He had hated the school that he'd been forced to go to, the company he had to keep, the children who thought they were like him because they didn't have a family either. He'd hated the way the adults who ran the place looked down on him, how they treated him.
But there was always one person. And it didn't even matter that John had thought that his rich uncle had died and left him enough money to go to a boarding school during the year. It didn't matter that he didn't know Tom had magic in him, John had always been there. John had always made excuses for Tom when they were children and Tom didn't want to go to class. John had even snuck out with him in January, on Tom's 9th birthday, to spend all of their money on a movie. He was Tom's partner in crime.
Tom felt like he was moving in slow motion, pushing past more officers, turning a corner, up the stairs, down a hallway. Oh, and there were so many bodies – he'd never seen that many in one place. He could smell the fresh blood and it made him sick. But it didn't matter. One more door on the right….
He pushed the door open and looked at the room in horror. His room for the last 16 years, they did this to his room.
John was propped up against his bed, a book was open in his lap, but it wasn't right, because his head just hung there. And something was dripping onto the cover of the book – but he didn't want to believe that it was what he thought it was.
And there was a blonde girl lying down on his bed and the sheets were a mess and he knew what they'd done to her.
Muggles had done this. If a wizard had done this there wouldn't be so much blood… which meant that it was one of Grindelwald's Muggle criminals that had done the job.
He dropped to his knees, and he dimly heard two people enter the room while he was gasping for breath.
When Tom finished he picked himself up long enough to see that Dumbledore and some Police man were looking at him with a mixture of expectance and compassion.
"I know it's hard, son, but we really need to know if you can identify any –."
He cut the man off. "John Fleet and Sally Bayliss."
Tom didn't know how he'd gotten outside, or why they were still there, or even where Dippet was. He was too rattled to brush off the hand that Dumbledore put on his shoulder.
"She'll take more away from you if you stay with her." Dumbledore said softly.
The words registered in Tom's mind and he was… relieved. It was finally over – Dumbledore knew. He would be handed over to the Ministry, and sent to Azkaban.
No more lying, no more running.
"You have a choice, Tom. You're the only one who can choose your path. When you are ready, come to my office and we'll have words."
He had a choice? In one moment Tom realized what a fool Albus Dumbledore was. He was past redemption, years past. There was only one direction for him to move in.
And that was forward.
***
He arrived at their house soaked to the bone with the rain that was coming down in buckets outside. He could hear the thunder rumbling in the distance. He could hear it moving closer and closer. Then a flash of lightning lit the sky, and he could see her pacing in their study.
He didn't want to have to be the one to tell her.
In fact, he still wasn't quite sure why the responsibility had fallen to him – except, of course, that she was his fiancй ….
Tom thought back to earlier that day. The battle, the one that everyone would be talking about – the one he wished never happened.
He'd already lost his own family (true, he'd killed every last one of them) so he didn't really understand why he was meant to lose the man who he'd come to think of as his own father. The man who had taken Tom under his arm and taught him everything there was to know about life and magic.
No matter how many people he lost, no matter how many he killed, Tom Riddle would never understand death.
Would she lash out at him, Tom wondered as he got closer to the house, the person who brought the news, or would she run off and seek vengeance on Dumbledore? There really was only one way to find out.
He walked the final steps up to the front door and dispelled the wards with a wave of his hand.
She was still waiting for him in the study. When she looked at him her face fell for a second, before falling back into a blank slate.
For the first time in his life, Tom appreciated her gift, her secret.
"I'm so sorry, Jennifer." And he was sorry. Their marriage might have been arranged by her father but he still loved her.
She reached over to pick up a piece of paper off her desk, seemingly ignoring him.
"My father is dead. It's your turn now, but surely you knew that."
Tom started. "What?"
"My father left everything to you." Jennifer said calmly, her face betraying nothing of the anger and hurt he knew she must have been feeling inside. "That must be why you didn't save him."
Tom shook his head wildly. "No! I couldn't – it all happened too fast…."
Jennifer advanced on him, her green eyes shinning strangely in the glow of the table lamp. "You're forgetting that I saw it, Tom. I saw it, and I felt what he felt, what you felt. You saw a window of opportunity, you saw a way to save him and you didn't take it. Was it because you wanted power, Tom? That must have been it. Why else would you let my father die?"
Tom was backed into a corner now. "I didn't know anything about this. You know that we both thought that he was handing everything over to you. If I had known…."
"You wouldn't have saved him." Jennifer finished quietly, her wand out and digging into his neck. She gave it a sharp stab and he winced. "That's why he chose you."
"I don't know if I can lead." He said desperately.
Jennifer pulled her wand away from his neck and turned away so that her back was facing him. "It doesn't matter if you can. You must, Voldemort."
***
Tom lay on his back on his – their – bed next to his wife. He turned his head slightly to look at her, and she was a vision, always had been. When he watched her sleep it was like he was waking up. All day long he worshiped her but at night…
…Oh how he hated her.
She didn't think he remembered. She thought that he'd forgotten about everything, she thought he was happy.
The things that woman had done to her… he still remembered the woman she had forced him to kill when he first learned Avada Kedavra, a Witch, not that it made any difference. Jenny said that a wizard was harder to kill with the Killing Curse – because their magic fought back to an extent.
He saw John's lifeless head every time he closed his eyes. He saw Sally's bloodied body on his bed. He felt himself take control of the monster of Slytherin, he saw himself wipe Professor Flitwick's mind. He remembered every Witch, Wizard, and Muggle he'd ever killed in the name of Grindelwald, and then later in the name of Voldemort.
He only took comfort in the fact that he could see it in her eyes too. That when they were together, he could tell that she just wanted to reach over and strangle him. She seemed to be waiting for something to happen – he had no idea what, but she was waiting all right.
He was only twenty eight years old, and he was more powerful than Grindelwald had ever hoped to be. She was jealous of that, because even though Jenny had a few well-kept secrets, she was only a tad more powerful than he was now. And it killed her that he got greater by the day.
Tom pulled the quilt off of him slowly, so as to not attract her attention, and slipped out of bed quietly. He pulled his wedding ring off harshly, and shoved it in his pocket, where his necklace already laid.
In minutes he was past the wards and Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron, with Jenny none the wiser.
If he was to be the most powerful wizard that walked the earth, then he should be able to do as he pleased, and right now, he wanted someone to help him forget.
***
That was the night that he met her. She was a bar matron at the Leaky Cauldron with long black hair and had small open eyes that were hidden behind square glasses. She introduced herself as Minerva McGonagall.
He wouldn't say that it was love at first sight but it was… something. She agreed to sit with him after the other customers had either left or retired to their rooms, but she wouldn't let him buy her a drink. She asked what he did for a living, and kept on with the questions, but refused to offer any information about herself.
Minerva was quite a puzzle to Tom, who was used to people fearing him, and obeying his every whim. Ever since Jennifer's father had given his 'business' to him Tom had felt horrible about every decision he made, because ultimately every time he made one someone would die. Jennifer and he had daily quarrels about what to do about the giants and whether or not they should send Wizards into Gringotts to attempt a siege.
Minerva asking him what band he liked, or what Quidditch team he followed was a breath of fresh air.
"The Cannons are horrible." Tom said, lifting his glass and taking a sip of the bitter liquid to hide his smile.
"Are you mad?!" Minerva exclaimed. Her elbows were propped up on the small table and she was leaning forward, talking in an animated whisper – so as to not wake anyone. "The Cannons are a brilliant team. Yes, they've had a few off games, and made a few bad judgment calls – but they have the best set of Beaters, and their Keeper has never let a ball get passed him." She leaned back on her chair and frowned thoughtfully. "Well, perhaps he's let a few in…."
Tom smiled. "What's your opinion on Bulgaria chances?"
"They just trained a new Seeker, right? I would have to see him play, but unless he's terribly dreadful… I suppose the team is alright."
"…But not as good as the Cannons?"
She adjusted her glasses and smiled. Just as she was about to take a sip of her water, she yawned loudly. "Oh! I'm sorry… I don't know what has gotten into me."
Tom glanced at his watch before exhaling loudly. He was going to have to think of a hell of an excuse to explain to Jennifer why he was out so late, or up so early.
Tom blinked in surprise. He hadn't thought of his wife all night. He turned his attention back to Minerva and grabbed her hand before she could clean the glasses that cluttered their table. "When can I see you again?"
She appeared flustered. "I'm not sure if that is such a good idea, Mr. Riddle."
Tom released her arm. "And why wouldn't it be a good idea?"
She averted her eyes to the task set before her. "I'm not in the habit of talking up young men, in a bar of all places. Really, I don't know what has gotten into me tonight!"
"It's obvious that you couldn't resist my charms, I promise not to hold it against you." Tom offered a sincere smile.
Minerva's arms were full of empty bottles, and she nearly dropped them twice before setting them back on the table. He watched as she pulled out her wand and transfigured one of the glasses into a wash bin, before sending the glasses into the bin. She waved her wand once more, sending the bin behind the bar. "If you promise…." She said, dragging Tom back into their previous conversation.
"Wizard's honor."
"I'll owl you sometime tomorrow and we'll set an official date."
"Tomorrow isn't good for me." Tom said hurriedly. "What I mean to say, is that it would be much more convenient if I were to get in touch with you." Her eyes narrowed in suspicion and he added, "I know this wonderful restaurant in Paris…."
***
Tom rubbed his eyes, moving to sit up against the headboard. He knew there was something wrong with this picture, there was some reason that Jennifer shouldn't be sitting on the bed, but he couldn't remember…
Oh shit.
He turned his head slowly to the left, and was met with the open and terrified eyes of Minerva. Two years of being with her behind Jenny's back, and now the one person that he'd ever felt anything real for was probably going to be murdered by his wife.
Tom watched as Jennifer took a long look at Minerva, and he smiled smugly, putting his hands behind his head resting them between the headboard and his neck.
"Did you want something, Jenny?" He asked in a husky voice. The distraction worked – as Jennifer turned around he began to play with the clasp of his necklace.
Minerva pulled the sheet tightly around her and tried her hardest to look dignified, despite the fact that her face was turning a deep red. "Who – who is this? Tom?"
Jennifer threw her head back and laughed.
Quickly, so that Jennifer wouldn't notice, he handed his girlfriend the necklace and mouthed the words, 'Think of Hogwarts.'
"I'm his wife." Jennifer said menacingly. "I'm also his evil consort – did he forget to tell you that he was a Dark Lord, as well? Must have slipped his mind."
A single tear escaped Minerva's eye, and she closed them tightly. Jennifer noticed the necklace clutched in her hand one second too late.
Jennifer stared at the spot that she had been in and then directed her attention to Tom. "That was very stupid."
He resumed his venerable position. His hands were tucked behind his head and he was looking at Jennifer indifferently. As though his wife hadn't just caught him in bed with another woman.
"In fact, this whole thing was very stupid. Choosing our room in Hog's Head, giving her the necklace, oh, yes, and sleeping with the enemy. That was also very stupid."
Tom arched an eyebrow. "It took you long enough to notice. I'm surprised one of your gifts didn't alert you to it sooner."
Jenny stared at him incredulously. "It took me long enough to notice? Far be it from me to believe that you would be faithful to the cause, to me."
Tom shrugged.
"Are you some sort of idiot, Tom? Well, are you?" She demanded hotly.
Something flashed in Jennifer's eyes and she moved closer to Tom, until she was on the bed straddling his hips. "Or is it that you loved her?"
Tom kept very still, but even he couldn't hide the truth of it in his eyes.
"That's it then. You loved her. How… pathetic." She hopped off of him and rolled onto her back. "And here when I saw the two of you together I thought it was about lust." An insane smile swept across her face and Tom felt the fear inside of him swell.
"Not everything comes down to lust, love, and hate, Jennifer." He said quietly.
"No." Jennifer was playing with her wedding ring, and if it had been anyone else, Tom would have thought it was unconsciously. "Sometimes it's about greed." She shook her head as if to dispel some memory. "I'm not a fool, Tom.
"You loved each other." Jennifer spoke as though he wasn't in the room. "I saw it, all of it. You didn't just sleep together… sometimes all you did was talk." She closed her eyes for a minute and took a deep breath. "You told her things." She paused and raised her eyebrows. "Okay you left out some pretty big details… being evil and married among them, but you told her things, things that you didn't even tell me. And that's just wrong."
Tom didn't know what to think about everything she'd just said. "We have a very different understanding of what is wrong, Jenny."
"I suppose we do." Jennifer conceded. Then she turned serious. "I won't pretend to understand what you thought you were going to accomplish by doing this. You do realize that you told that woman enough about yourself so that, if she's smart, she can kill you?"
Tom started. "Minerva would never do that."
Jenny went on as though he hadn't spoken. "And then you just sent her to the one person who hates us the most. You sent her to the one person that can extract information from the smartest of men, how much of a chance do you think your dear Minnie will have?"
"She wouldn't –."
"Confess everything to Dumbledore. No, of course not." Jenny chuckled and moved back onto Tom placing a mockery of a warm kiss on his mouth. Then she pulled back just far enough so that she could look into his eyes. "If I ever hear that you were in contact with her, or anyone else, I will kill her myself."
"You wouldn't kill her." Tom said confidently, though he felt anything but.
"Maybe not. However, I'm sure that it would do little 'Ms. Gryffindor's reputation no good if it got out that she was sleeping with the enemy. Plus, she is really venerable… she probably thinks that you didn't love her enough to tell her that you were evil and married – Gryffindors are pretty pathetic that way – she might do herself in."
Tom looked into her eyes desperately, trying to make her understand. "You have a problem with me. There isn't any reason for you to do anything to her."
Jennifer leaned back so that she was sitting on his legs. Anger flashed in her eyes. "Haven't you learned anything, Tom? Never go for the kill, when you can go for the pain. And it hurts you to hear me talk about her, doesn't it?"
Tom moved to upturn her, but no matter what his effort she remained on top of him, her face set in a firm smirk. Then she leaned forward seductively and put a single long finger on his lips. "Hush. Soon none of that will matter."
During her display, Jennifer had shifted her weight just so, so that he could slip under her. He backed way from her and reached for his wand on the dresser.
"Are you looking for this?" Jennifer said, twirling his wand between her fingers.
Tom growled.
"I'll give it back, no worries, but first you have to do something."
"No." Tom said coldly.
Jennifer chuckled. "I'm sorry, did I say have to? I meant going to."
"Whatever it is you have planned, I refuse to be a part of it anymore. I'm done with it Jennifer, I'm through."
Jennifer hopped off the bed in one fluid motion. "Yes, you are."
***
When Tom woke, he was laying down on a table. He groaned and moved his hand up to rub his head (which was pounding) and found that his hands had been magically bound to the table, and on second inspection so had his legs.
"Look who's decided to join us in the not-so-real-world." Jennifer said happily.
"What are you going on about now?" Tom snarled.
"Well, if you were able to lift your head more than a few inches, you'd notice that were not exactly home. That is to say we aren't in our reality anymore."
"Unbind me, and hand me my wand, Jennifer."
"Sure," she said brightly. "Oh wait, I forgot! No." She stepped into his line of vision. "I brought you here for a reason, Tom. It really would be a shame, and a waste of time at that, if you got away from me before I finished my task."
"And that would be, what exact-." His eyes widened and his jaw dropped at the sight of a dementor gliding to, well he wouldn't call it standing, exactly – but to move next to Jennifer. Tom's brain caught up with his body and he stopped trying to break free of his bindings, and smirked in Jennifer's direction. "What do you have me for, an idiot? There isn't any chill, I'm not reliving my worst memory… that isn't a dementor."
Jennifer raised an eyebrow. "This dimension allows the dementor more freedom, it doesn't have to feed off of human emotions and so, therefore, it doesn't project a cold empty feeling – simply because it isn't cold or empty here. This lovely place is the origin of dementors."
Tom felt a cold fear grip him… if that was true…. Surely she wouldn't have it kiss him? He couldn't think of any other reason why she would have him bound to a table.
She was speaking again. "I made a mistake. I can admit, now, that I should have done this much sooner."
"Done what?"
Jennifer ignored him. "I took an interest in you. I gave you that book, knowing that you would have the power to unravel its mysteries, I gave you lessons. I allowed you to meet my father. You became part of a bigger picture, slowly, yes, but a part nonetheless. It was then that I should have brought you here, the place that my father had come to when he sought power. But I was… afraid."
"What changed your mind?"
"You did. Everyday I saw you slip away from the path you belong. You hated the kill, and you hated me for bringing you the kill. And you had stopped wearing my necklace. I think a part of you realized the power that was imbedded inside of it. The necklace did more than transport you to our room. It helped give you the strength to be dark, and to not care. It was really for your own good, you know. Tom, I didn't want you to have to know what it was like to do the things you did, and to care. Had I allowed things to progress at a normal speed, it would have been years before I could have convinced you to commit your first kill. You felt the necklace's call. It confused you. There was still a part of you that was good, and pure. …A part of you that no human magic, dark or light, could touch. So I brought you here." Tom noticed a shiver creep up on Jennifer, that he was certain had nothing to do with the cold. "It's an awful place. It would be so much easier if the reward was easily gained and painless, but as with most good things in life, there is a price to pay for power such as this."
"And what power is that?"
"It's the best of all, Tom. The powers of indifference… some of us are lucky enough to be born with it." Jennifer shrugged, her eyes filling up with tears. "Some of us have to come here, and some of us have to live with my father. Although my mother quite liked it. She says it's different when the person is your equal. You can ask her what it was like the next time… oh well; you might not be seeing her again."
"You aren't seriously thinking about punishing me for something your father did to you!" Tom asked angrily.
"This isn't about my father." Jennifer snapped. "Like I said before, you hated me, but, it doesn't have to be like that, Tom. I can make it so that none of that matters. I can make it so that we're the happy family we were meant to be."
"No."
"I see that you're still under the impression that you have a choice."
Tom chuckled darkly. "I meant, no, you can't make us a happy family, Jenny. It doesn't matter what you do to me… I will never love you."
Tom took enjoyment in watching Jennifer's face turn purple with rage. He watched as she motioned for the dementor to move closer to him.
Tom yanked at his bindings, desperately. "I can't live without a soul!"
"You don't need a soul to survive." Jennifer chuckled darkly. "Of course something can fill that void." She croaked her long finger at the dementor in a, 'come here' sort of gesture. "That's where our friend comes in… did you know that dementors can release their demonic soul when they lose a Wizard's duel of sorts?"
Tom stopped struggling against his binding and then looked at his wife for a long moment. "If I fight that thing and win, then it gets to keep my memories, my life. That sounds like a fair deal. Why don't we pay it a couple hundred Galleons as well? Maybe throw in a free trip to the Bermuda Triangle?"
"It is a fair deal. The essence of a dementor is a rare and prized gift, Tom. I don't think you realize what I'm talking about – the ability to have the kind of power that you have, to use it, and to not have to care about what kind of effects it might have – it's like being a God."
"If it is so wonderful, why didn't you tell me about it back home and ask me to come here with you?"
"…Because you no longer have the choice. Either I unbind you, give you your wand, and you fight this dementor or I'm erasing your memory and binding your power. I'll unleash you into the Muggle world and you'll never so much as float a feather again."
Tom's confidence faltered. If he didn't have any memory of Hogwarts then he wouldn't have to remember all of things he had done… but he wouldn't be able to remember any of the good things either. He would lose the memories that had kept him through those long summers; the magic, the power that he had. And the prospect of never doing magic ever again made his heart constrict in a manner that only another Wizard would understand. "What if I fight the dementor and lose?"
Jennifer hesitated before telling him. "Then he gets to kiss you, thereby keeping your whole soul. My advice would be to not lose. Also, the Patronus spell won't work in this dimension. And the Wizard's duel isn't a real Wizard's duel – obviously. It's more of a reenactment."
"Reenactment of what? And why won't the Patronus charm work? " Tom asked.
"…Of your worst memory. You just have to relive it and using magic beat it, so to speak. If you survive you win. If you give up in any way during the reliving of the memory then you lose. Pretty basic. The charm won't work because the dementors have learned, with a little help from some wizards, to guard against it. At least these ones have. In fact, after this is all over it might be interesting to let a few of these dementor out into our world. They'd be practically unstoppable." She didn't bother to hide her glee at the thought of setting free a load of monsters on an unsuspecting society.
Tom looked deep into Jennifer's eyes and saw the truth in them. That was one of his gifts. It was the ability to tell when someone was lying, to look inside of their mind. Jennifer had told him that there was a spell that could do the same, but Tom didn't even need a wand to do it, and he never had. All he had to do was relive his nastiest memory and use magic to beat away the monsters in his closet.
His worst memory…. He didn't really have a worst. Tom had plenty of bad ones, but nothing really stuck out in his mind except… but that didn't really happen – it was more of a nightmare then anything. It was just a Boggart under the bed.
…What he heard when the dementors were close? Tom had never told anyone what he had seen during his first and only encounter, with the dementors, because it didn't make sense. You were supposed to hear all of your horrible memories or just the one if it was particularly painful, but Tom…. Tom saw something that had never really happened at all. And he wasn't sure that there was any magic to beat it away, to delay the inevitable. But the alternative was to lead a life without power. The alternative was to lead a simple life, with nothing to keep him apart from the billions of Muggles that walked the earth. The alternative was to lead a life without magic.
"Unbind me, Jennifer, and hand me my wand."
She leaned across him to tap her wand on the bindings that held his right arm, but hesitated before finishing the task. She turned her head slightly, looked at Tom, and took one really thoughtful pause. "You realize that only I understand how to get back home, and that cursing me will only bring you harm. If you kill me, the dementors will kill you. They only listen to me."
He wanted to ask why, he wanted to know what kind of a human could have this kind of control over dementors, of all creatures, but he remained silent. Tom felt that he already knew the answer, if not the story, because with Jennifer, everything had something to do with her father. And so instead, he stared back into her eyes and tried to tell her without speaking; he would not take advantage of this. He understood the consequences if he did.
She tapped her wand at his bindings, one at a time until he was free of them. He stood, his legs shaking. Not, he told himself, because of the thing standing in front of him. Not at all.
She handed him his wand.
And then she smiled that wonderful, iridescent smile that could still the fears of a man. It did nothing to reassure him as he stood in front of the dementor, only inches away from it, with his wand as his only defense against -
The inevitable.
Death. His Death.
"So, exactly what kind of magic will work in this dimension?" It was the last thing he remembered saying or doing before his head exploded with pain.
An image flittered through his mind, but it wasn't the one he had expected. Not at all.
"I'll be your guide for this journey. I suggest you prepare yourself – well, actually I suggest you run like hell in the other direction." It was a woman; she looked to be no older than twenty-five. She had black, unruly hair and a bright smile lit her face. Tom had only seen her image in an old photograph once. It was his mother.
***
Chloe finished cleaning up the papers and walked into her living room. She took out her wand and waved it at the large crystal ball that was suspended in mid air above a side table. The fog cleared up and a scene erupted from within the circle. It was a party. Chloe waved her wand again and focused the image on two very drunk teenage boys.
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter, Chloe mused, couldn't hold their drink at all. As she watched them leave the party and stumble up the stairs, pausing every few seconds to kiss each other sloppily, she decided that this was a very good thing indeed. She watched as they tumbled into bed with each other and tore at their clothing.
When they had collapsed afterwards, she dispelled the image and put her wand away. She had told her mother once that a moment can change everything about the way we think, feel and live. Chloe wasn't wrong.
We live for the moments, Chloe thought as she grabbed an umbrella on her way out to guard against the heavy rainfall that would come later that night. And they are going to die for them.
***
Author's note: I'm sorry for the Very Long Wait in-between chapters. I also want to thank everyone who sent me an email checking on the story's stasis. I appreciate your concern, and I hope that I got back to everyone. I've already started on the next chapter and I promise to try and make more time for my writing. (It is one of my New Years resolutions). If you want updates on the story, you can check my (new) Live Journal @ www.livejournal.com/users/angelbuff.