The Proof is in The Pudding
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"Where are the ghosts?"
Looking over at Jeremiah Lestrange, Tom Marvolo Riddle felt a frown dance across his face. That was in fact, a very good question.
It was Christmas Eve 1944. Around Hogwarts castle, there was a healthy coating of snow, the green landscape bleached white for the Christmas season. All around the halls, decorations had been hung, Christmas trees sprouting up out of nowhere and suits of armour enchanted to sing carols as one passed them by. It was just like every year.
Only this year, it seems the ghosts were gone.
Drumming his long fingers against the hard wood of the table, Tom took another more scrutinizing look around the Great Hall, eyes narrowed.
The ghosts never missed an opportunity to join in with the celebrations, it was one of the things they enjoyed the most. Even the Bloody Baron liked to turn up for the feasts, even if it was to just put some of the skittish students off of their dinners with his ferocious glares.
And yet, the hall was empty of all other supernatural beings. Not a ghost in sight.
It was exceedingly strange a concept to accept, but Tom would rather focus on his plans for life after Hogwarts then spend his time tracking down the missing shades of those long past.
However, it seemed like Professor Dippet had other plans.
"Tom, my dear boy. I don't suppose you fancy tracking down our missing friends from the beyond? it surely must be important for them to miss a celebrations like this... Oh, don't worry about dinner, it won't start for another half hour."
Hiding his souring mood behind a brilliantly charming smile, Tom Riddle gave a slow nod of his head, the hand that was partially hidden from the headmaster by his own body indicating to Lestrange that he wished for his fellow seventh year to remain in his place.
"I'll see to it sir."
"Yes yes, couldn't have chosen a better Head-Boy now, could I?"
The elderly man chuckled beneath his breath as Tom spun on his heels, well aware of the burning eyes on his back. Dumbledore clearly did not agree with Dippet's words, but at this point in time, Tom couldn't care less.
.
Stopping outside of the Great Hall, the dark haired teen ran a hand slowly through his hair, a low sigh escaping from between his teeth.
How he longed to tell Dippet that no, he would not waste his time looking for fools who'd been stupid enough to die. And yet, here he was. Having to go through the act of being the polite, friendly student who'd be more than happy to help out any first year with a problem.
If Tom had his way, he'd have hung them all by their intestines from the battlements. Should he ever get the chance once he could finally throw off this mask, he'd do it too.
Dear Merlin, how much he wished to throw away the mask.
But that didn't matter, he would play along for now. He could be patient, he could wait and reap his rewards. It was just a matter of time.
Placing the yew spell caster on the flat of his palm, Tom rolled his eyes, and said the name of the first ghost to come to mind.
"Point me, Sir Nicholas." The white wand spun instantly, tilting to a side and, typically enough, in the direction of the courtyard.
"Brilliant," Tom grumbled, effortlessly transfiguring his school-robes into something that would stand against the winter chill a bit better.
When Lord Voldemort finally appeared, Dippet would be the first to go.
And Dumbledore would follow shortly after.
.
When he rounded the corner, hearing already picking up on the sharp sounds of laughter, Tom had to stop at the sight before him.
A dark black cloth, the largest he'd ever seen, had been draped over the courtyard, from one corridor to the next to create an illusion of night. Little globes of light were floating all about the place, about twice the size of a firefly but the shade of light they were giving off reminded Tom far too much of Halloween to be giving off any Christmas cheer.
And the ghosts, they were clamoured around one of their own, listening to the humming. It was a slow tune, haunting almost, and then the voice began to sing.
Tom was instantly on guard, because he'd gone out of his way to know every face, every voice in Hogwarts. And this was not one he recognised. Add to the fact the story he was telling through song was not one he'd ever heard before, Tom was furiously suspicious.
None of the other ghosts though seemed to have a problem with the new addition. In fact, they seemed to have welcomed him heartily to the group. If ghosts could blush, no doubt that filthy mudblood Myrtle would be doing so. Still, Tom remained shrouded by the pillar, watching and listening.
The new ghost, whom he could not make out the features of from between the mass of bodies spoke of his fame. His words were not a boast though, purely fact that when it came to his fame it was very real, that no one could ever say he was not skilled at his job. Oh, and that he terrified people, that was a key point that repeated a few times in his tale. And yet, he was bored, tired of doing the same thing over and over again. That he would give it up if he had a chance.
Having to really ever met a ghost who did not want to be a ghost, yet was unable to pass on, Tom gave a low cough, startling all the ghosts but gaining all their attention. Several transparent heads swirled around to look at him, but it was Sir Nicholas who seemed to gather his wits first.
"Ah, here's our Head-boy now! I suspect we're missing the feast, simply can't let that happen. My Lord, would you care to join us?"
'Lord?'
"You know, I think I shall."
The ghosts had finally parted and Tom got his first look at this new addition to the crowd.
It was a teenage boy, no older than what he was. But, there was something off about him. The green eyes seemed just a little too bright for the ghost, his clothing simple and black. A dark trousers that seemed to have been dragon-hide long ago, tucked into a pair of sturdy looking, lace up boots that reached mid-calf.
In contrast to his rather serious looking trousers and boots, his shirt was a worn looking, hand-made jumper with a big fat 'H' sat in the centre. How any of the ghosts had dared to address him as 'Lord', Tom did not understand.
"Please do lead the way then Mr Riddle, the ghosts are most insistent I attend a Hogwarts feast."
.
When Tom returned to the Great Hall, it was with all the ghosts of Hogwarts following after him, chatting casually amongst themselves.
All of them seemed to have something to say to the newest member of their ranks -or visitor, Tom really didn't care, even if he was a little curious- who was watching them with the unnaturally bright green eyes. Not even the large spectacles he wore could distract from the uneasy way the strange ghost focused on something.
Dippet stood from the head table, opening his arms to welcome the ghosts in, but then he paused at the new addition. Dumbledore too had risen from his chair, a strange look on his face as the young ghost, the youngest after Myrtle, came forwards with a pleased smile on his face. Every so often, his gaze would roam around the hall, apparently not at all put off by the fact everyone was staring at him.
"Do we have a new ghost in residency?" Dippet asked, head tilted to a side in confusion.
All the ghosts of Hogwarts had died either on or near the grounds. This boy couldn't have done either, his age suggested he should be a student, and Tom had neither seen him before, nor heard of any deaths nearby. And he'd probably would have noticed had a teenager dropped dead from mysterious circumstances nearby. He made it his mission to know if something causing death was nearby, even if he didn't have to worry too much now that he actually had a Horcrux.
The boy, 'Lord' as Sir Nicholas has called him, rubbed sheepishly at the back of his head, almost knocking his glasses from his nose as he did so.
"Erm, not quite? I was invited to stay for the feast by Nicholas here."
"He knows my name!" The Gryffindor House ghost seemed overjoyed this fact, which was exceedingly strange behaviour from what Tom had previously observed of the man's personality before today.
Dippet blinked, turning to Dumbledore who apparently saw no harm in the strange ghost staying for the remainder of the day, gave a shallow nod.
It was, Tom would later reflect upon, this nod that would unleash upon the world a power they'd never have been capable of preparing for. A being so powerful it could bring countries to their knees with only a wave of its hand. A being that was just a tad too lazy to actually do so.
"But would you care to grace us with your name?"
The boy cocked his head to a side, fringe parting to show a carefully cut lightning bolt scar sat upon his forehead.
"Sure I guess." The boy took a step forwards and began to bleed into colour. The ghostly essence left his form, stripping away from his limbs and disappearing into nothingness. His ribcage, which had laid so still, began to rise and fall as the boy took a sharp breath, as if resurfacing from a deep dive underwater, nostrils flaring as he pulled in the oxygen for the body he'd suddenly made.
A girl, probably a Hufflepuff, let out a terrified shriek, which was echoed around the hall as the boy dropped into a bow before the completely stunned Professors.
"In this form, I go by the name Harry Potter, but you will all eventually come to know me as Death."
The boy -Harry Potter? Death?- rose from his bow with a huge grin spread out across his face as the ghosts once again surrounded him. Tom wasn't sure if he was impressed and terrified.
Maybe a little -read, lot- of both.
"I look forwards to spending the rest of the Christmas period with you."
So, I watched the nightmare before Christmas last night. Jack's lament? Yeah, this came from that. Death!Harry. Horrah!
Happy Christmas everyone; not sure if I'll keep continue this or not.
Tsume
xxx