Crash and Burn

Disclaimer: All characters (save some of the various Slytherins and a few teachers) belong to J. K. Rowling. "Crash and Burn" belongs to Savage Garden.

A/N: I noticed how many Lily and James "Crash and Burn" songfics were being written, so I decided to make (my first) songfic with a more unusual character for this type of song. (I know, I'm obsessed with the Dark Side.) This songfic is meant to be angsty, with more than a few snippets of romance, but it turned into Tom's rather nasty pre-Voldemort life story. Oh, how I love torturing my characters! By the way, the bold print refused to work, so the lyrics have *stars* around them instead. Enjoy, and review!

Crash and Burn: For Tom

*...When you feel all alone... And the world has turned its back on you...*

A nine year old Tom Riddle sat alone in the orphanage playground. It was early winter, and a sharp breeze blew about him. Tom shivered, but did not return to the warmth of the building. Save for him, the playground was completely empty, the cold wind swirling round empty food packets and creaking empty swings.

One lone tear fell down Tom's pale-skinned cheek, dropping down upon his long fingers. Why didn't anybody like him? He did not talk much, he knew, but that was because he had nobody to talk to. The others called him a freak, because of the strange things that happened when he got angry. They used to bully him, but after one of the..odd... things happened again, they left him alone. Completely alone. Even his father hadn't been able to stand him. If Tom's father had loved him at all, he wouldn't have left him here. Another tear dripped down his cheek, falling into the puddle the other tear had made in the crevasses betweeen his fingers. Tom watched the salty water merge together. Even his tears were not alone! So why was he? Why was he always, always alone?

Tom shivered slightly as the breeze blew icily around his ankles, echoing the coldness inside his heart. Was he a monster, that he had no friends? A freak, the other children called him. Were they right? Was he some sort of creature of evil? Evil...evil...evil. The word echoed endlessly inside his mind. Tom Riddle searched inside himself. Was he evil? The cold emptiness of Death surged up like the sea inside him, and laid its Mark upon his soul. Am I evil? he asked himself. The echo returned in a sibilant hiss, but as weak as the whisper of the ants.

'...yes, Lord...'

*...Give me a moment, please...To tame your wild, wild heart...*

"Can I sit here?"

Tom jumped. He stared at the girl who had startled him. She was quite pretty, really, with long black hair and big green eyes. His most charming smile halted when he recognised her. Minerva Mac- something. A 5th year like him. And... a Gryffindor. Damn! Tom looked her up and down again. Bit of a waste, really. She was, after all, very pretty.

"Tom? Can I sit here, please?" she asked again

"Must you?" he replied ungraciously. Bloody Gryffindors. "Didn't any of your friends save you a seat?" Tom glanced around himself at the only empty carriage of the Hogwarts Express. He had hoped to have some privacy to practise a few hexes on the way to school. The Dueller's Club was having the Championship Tournaments in a few weeks, and he planned to win the Cup- for the fifth year running.

The Gryffindor looked hurt. "Of course they saved me a seat! Tom, I... I.... just wanted to talk to you."

"What about?" Tom asked her roughly, moving his luggage aside so that she could sit down. She did so, biting her lip and dry-washing her hands nervously.

The normally brave and unflappable Minerva looked terrified, Tom observed. "Well?" he asked, after a silent few moments. Minerva opened her mouth for a second then closed it again, as if she had been about to retaliate for his rudeness, then thought better of it. Tom watched her warily. The abruptness that he used to keep away unwanted people did not seem to work on her. What did she want? Tom considered. It must be something important, if a Gryffindor was willing to talk to a Slytherin in private.

"Minerva," he began, then stopped with a gulp when a beautiful smile lit up her face. Tom realised something. He had just used her name for the first time! Before this day, he had always spoken to her as "Gryffindor." He looked into her eyes, easy when they were sitting next to each other, so close that his lips were only a few inches away from hers... Tom suddenly caught track of his thoughts. With red staining his alabaster skin, he finished his sentence in an embarassed rush. "Minerva, what did you want to talk to me about?"

Now it was her turn to blush. "Um...Tom? Give me a moment, please." She swallowed, and took a few deep breaths. "Well, you know how we have the Yule Ball coming up?" she began, in a rush. Tom nodded. What did the Ball have to do with him? Wait. No. She couldn't be- No. No. Not possible.

"And I know it's not for another few months, but I was wondering if...if ...if you would like to go to the Ball with me?" Minerva finished, her face beetroot red.

Tom was sure his ears were about to drop off. He could not have just heard what he thought he heard. He tried to say, "But you're a Gryffindor!" Somehow, his words came out in a strangled squawk of, "I'd love to."

Minerva's dazzling smile glowed through again. 'Oh, good," she said, leaning her head against his much higher shoulder. Tom was silent for a moment. "Minerva?" he asked.

"Mmmm?"

"Why ask me?" Tom said. "Why not the Captain of the Quidditch Team, or a Gryffindor Prefect, or the Head Boy? Why didn't you ask a Gryffindor?"

Minerva sat up again. "Because I like you, Tom," she answered.

"Me? Why? You don't even know me!"

She laughed. "Why you? Why not? And Tom, how could I not know you? You're smart, you're hard-working, you're brave, you're loyal, and you're so kind, when you think no-one's watching. And you're good-looking," she added, blushing a little. "You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen."

"Really?" Tom asked, his aforementioned eyes sparkling. "Evidently you've never looked in a mirror and seen your own."

'Did I mention you were a flatterer?" she laughed.

He smiled. Minerva was surprised. It was the first time she'd ever seen Tom Riddle smile. "Minerva.... Do I have to buy you a butterbeer in Hogsmeade before I'm allowed to kiss you?"

"No," she said. "But you-" She did not finish her sentence, for his lips were already on hers...

*...I know that you...Feel like the walls are closing in on you... It's hard to find relief...And people can be so cold...*.

"Hey, Mudblood! Have you heard?"

Tom looked up. "I'm a half-blood, Malfoy!" he said coldly. Then; "Heard what?" The smirking silver-haired boy in front of him carefully watched Tom's expression, judging the effect of his words.

"Grindlewald is coming, Riddle. I hear he's anxious to get rid of all the filth in Hogwarts' hallways. Mudbloods like you had better watch out, hadn't they?"

Tom froze. Grindlewald was coming. '....Yes...' sighed the voice inside him. Grindlewald was coming for him...But not to kill him, as Julius Malfoy thought. '...Serve him...' the voice whispered. '...learn from him....You could have power beyond your dreams, Lord...serve him...'

"No! I won't!" Tom yelled wildly.

"You won't what, Mudblood? Die?" Malfoy taunted. "I'll laugh when Grindlewald comes, and rids Slytherin blood of mud like you-"

Tom fell to his knees, clutching his head with both hands. '...Serve him...' came the whisper. 'Serve him, and he will give you power...power... power...' Tom's hands twisted into claws. "Help me!" he whispered. The Dark surged up within him. '...give into me, Lord...' "Help me!" he begged. His outstretched hand clutched Malfoy's ankle. "Please!"

Malfoy leapt back. "Don't touch me, Mudblood!" he yelped. "Filth!"

Tom did not hear him leave. His nails drove into the skin of his face until blood ran in free rivulets down his skin. He was trapped inside his own head, and the walls were closing in. Grindlewald was coming for him...

*...When darkness is upon your door... And you feel like you can't take anymore...*

The bell rang. Tom sighed with relief. Transfiguration was, like all of his subjects, very easy for him, but Professor Dumbledore had been watching him all lesson, and there was something about Dumbledore's eyes that made Tom feel like a mouse confronted with a hawk. He gathered his books together, and was about to leave his seat when-

"Mr Riddle? Stay behind after this class, please. I would like a word with you."

Tom sank back down into his seat again. The last student left, and Dumbledore closed the Transfiguration classroom door. He strode over to his desk, and sat down. For a few moments, Professor and student observed each other, blue eyes meeting blue. Dumbledore's stare was piercing, but Tom managed to meet his teacher's eyes levelly.

They sat in silence. Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "All right, Mr Riddle. You may begin by explaining the cuts on your face."

"My cat scratched me," Tom lied glibly.

"I see," came Dumbledore's calm reply. "In that case, Mr Riddle, explain the blood under your fingernails."

Tom said nothing. He did not need to. It was clear that Dumbledore already knew what had happened. "Professor, I-"

"Enough, Mr Riddle. I do not want to hear your lies." The Transfiguration Professor ran a hand over his face. "Mr Riddle, I am sure that you are well aware of your magical prowess. You are easily the best student in the school. These are shadowed times, Mr Riddle, and the Ministry will need wizards like you in the darkness ahead. Grindlewald is coming-"

'...Grindlewald is coming...is coming...coming...' sang the Dark voice. Tom shuddered visibly. Was he insane, or was the voice stronger than before?

'...He's coming...'

"No....no! No more! Please! I can't take any more!" Tom cried out, shaking his head, trying to drive away the voice. '...Grindlewald is coming for you...' it hissed. Darkness rose up, hovering on the threshold of his vision. Tom teetered on the brink. The wave of blackness crashed down. The shadows swallowed him.

"Tom?" Dumbledore hurried over to his student. "Tom! Can you hear me?" He shook the boy's shoulder. There was no response. "Mobilicorpus," Dumbledore commanded, waving his wand, and Tom rose jerkily into the air like a puppet on strings. Dumbledore carefully propelled the boy to the school hospital, and stayed while the nurse carefully put him to bed. He watched Tom moan and thrash in the grip of some truly awful nightmares.

The nurse watched Tom also, as concerned as Dumbledore. "There is a great evil within this Riddle boy," she said. "I can feel it."

"I feel it too," Dumbledore admitted. "I fear that he cannot fight it off."

"It?" the nuse questioned. "You know, then, this evil that he fights?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Yes, Nurse." He watched the boy twist around on the spotless white bed. "Tom is fighting himself."

*...Let me be the one you call...If you jump I'll break your fall...Lift you up and fly away with you into the night...*

Tom Riddle dreamed. He sat in Transfiguration class, while Professor Dumbledore stood at the front, his face and body strangely shadowed in the sunny room. Dumbledore waved his wand at a hedgehog. With a 'pop' it turned into a pincushion. Tom smiled. This was a lesson they'd done years ago. Why was Dumbledore trying to teach it to them now?

"Teach you?" Dumbledore said, echoing Tom's thoughts. But it wasn't the Transfiguration Professor's voice that Tom heard. The man stepped out of the shadows, and Tom recognised him, even though he knew he had never seen him before.

"Grindlewald!"

The Dark Wizard bowed. "None other. Let me teach you, boy..."

"NO!" Tom screamed, and he scratched and clawed at his face, trying to claw out of the nightmare. "NO!"

"Tom! Tom, wake up! Please, wake up!" Minerva's voice entreated.

He opened his eyes, and realised that Minerva was leaning over him, pinning his wrists down at his sides. He tasted blood in his mouth. He removed his wrist from Minerva's grasp, and gingerly touched his face. There was a fresh scratch trailing down his cheek.

"Oh, Tom! What's happening to you?" Minerva asked. She sounded close to tears. Tom sat up. He gently smoothed her hair away from her face. "I don't know," Tom said, and realised how close to tears he was himself. "I just don't know."

She hugged him. "I'll be here for you, Tom. You don't have to be strong all the time. I'll be here to catch you if you fall."

"Really?" he asked her, not daring to believe. Why should she care about him? Nobody cared about him.

Tears filled her eyes at his lack of faith in her, but she smiled anyway. "I'll Summon my broomstick and we'll fly off into the night together, away from Hogwarts, away from England and Grindlewald. We'll be safe, Tom."

Grindlewald. The Dark Voice did not rise up again at the Wizard's name, but Tom felt something stroking across his soul, and he knew that he was far from safe. The Dark Wizard was merely biding his time.

*********

Professor Dumbledore, stopped, stunned, in the doorway of the hospital. Minerva McGonagall...and Tom Riddle? Surely not. Yet here they were, and they appeared quite...enraptured...with each other. Tom sat with his back to Dumbledore, and even if Minerva's fall of dark hair was not providing a shield, she appeared too...distracted... by Tom for her to notice him. The Professor cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh!" Minerva pulled away from Tom. "Professor... we didn't know you were here!" she said, blushing.

"Obviously not," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment. McGonagall and Riddle- why not? She would be good for him- but would he be good for her? "Excuse me, Miss McGonagall, for interrupting, but I must speak with Mr Riddle alone."

"Yes, Professor," she said, and hurried quickly out of the hospital.

Dumbledore turned back to Tom. Despite the amusement in his eyes, the Professor's voice came out low and threatening. "Mr Riddle, we need to talk," he said.

*...If you need to fall apart... I can mend a broken heart...*

Later, Tom laid his hand gently on Minerva's shoulder. She turned around slowly. "Well?" she asked.

Tom swallowed. "The nurse said I was fine," he said, "but Dumbledore- Dumbledore says that I blacked out because- because..."

"Because what, Tom?" she asked. He did not answer. "Tom, you can tell me anything. I'm not going to reject you, no matter what Dumbledore said." Her large eyes pleaded with him. "Please, Tom. Please, just tell me."

He stared at her, memorising her features, drinking in the silkiness of her hair, the beauty of her eyes. It was undoubtably the last time he would ever see them. She would never go near him again after this. "Minerva, Dumbledore thinks that Grindlewald is moving towards Hogwarts, coming here, for me."

Minerva gasped. "Tom! Why would Grindlewald want-. It doesn't matter. I won't let him kill you. We'll fight him together, Tom."

Tom smiled cynically. "Kill me? That's not what he wants. Dumbledore said that Grindlewald is trying to draw me out of the protection of Hogwarts, away to somewhere he can reach me. And he's right, Minerva," Tom said. He paused, telling her what he had not dared tell Dumbledore. "For the past month or so, I've been having dreams- nightmares. Grindlewald is in them, and he is trying to make me give in. He says-" and here Tom's voice cracked- "He says that I am evil, that the darkness is within me and will overwhelm me. He says that I should give into the darkness, and surrender to him. If I do not, he will destroy Hogwarts." Tom finished the last sentence numbly, waiting for Minerva to run from him in horror.

Instead, she moved closer and took his face in her hands. "Do you believe him?" she asked. He nodded miserably. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the lips. "Then fight it, Tom," she whispered. "Fight harder than you have ever fought anything in your life."

"I can't!" he half wailed. "Grindlewald- he's too strong, too powerful! I am weak, Minerva."

"No!" she said fiercely. "No, Tom! You are the strongest person I have ever known! Death could not defeat you! Be strong, Tom, and fight!"

"There's more," Tom whispered. "Dumbledore said that Grindlewald has chosen me as his Heir. He said that Grindlewald wants me to be the next Dark Lord. And he's right, Minerva. I can feel it. And I can hear a voice, telling me that I could have power- such power!- if I just serve Grindlewald."

"It's Grindlewald, trying to trick you," Minerva said furiously. 'Don't listen to it, Tom!"

Tom shook his head. "It's not Grindlewald, Minerva. I recognise the voice." He took a deep breath, held it and let it out. "I recognise the voice, because it is my own."

Silence.

"I can't fight myself, Minerva. I've tried, and it makes me feel like I'm falling apart. Perhaps I should just give in."

Hot tears flooded Minerva's eyes. "Please, Tom. Please try. It isn't you, Tom, so fight it! Fight the darkness."

"I can't," he said. "I have no light."

"I will be your Light," she whispered.

*...If you need to crash, then crash and burn...You're not alone...*

"I'll fight with you, Tom. You don't have to be alone anymore."

*...When you feel all alone... And a loyal friend is hard to find...*

"Lachlan!" Tom called out to his best friend. The dark-haired boy in front of him didn't slow down. "Lachlan! Wait for me!" Tom sprinted up the corridor, catching his friend's arm. "Lachlan, are you deaf? Didn't you hear me calling you?"

Lachlan didn't meet his friend's eyes. "Look...Tom, there's this rumour going around..."

"What is it?" Tom asked nervously. Did people know about Grindlewald?

Lachlan fidgeted. "Well, you know that annoying Hufflepuff, Myrtle? Well, she told a Ravenclaw girl, who told Lia Farrel, that you and a Gryffindor were kissing in the hospital."

Tom sighed in relief. Not Grindlewald. "Is that all?" he asked with surprise. "I kissed Minerva and suddenly you don't know me?"

"You kissed Minerva...So it is true, then," Lachlan said. "You kissed a Gryffindor! A GRYFFINDOR, Tom!"

"So?" he shrugged. "I like her. She likes me. We're going to the Yule Ball together. What does it matter if she's a Gryffindor?"

"Well, well, well. So the Mudblood had a little romantic interlude in the hospital. What's the matter, Riddle? Can't you find a proper Pureblood Slytherin to go out with you?"

Tom closed his eyes as Malfoy's taunting voice drifted up the corridor towards him. Ignore it, he told himself. Malfoy's nothing. He's so weak that Jelly-legs would knock him out. But Tom could not force himself to let go of his wand.

"But each to their own, I suppose. Muck to muck, as it were-"

"Serpentsortia!" Tom commanded in a cold fury, and a long, dangerous-looking snake wound out of the wand and slowly slithered towards Julius Malfoy. Malfoy leapt back. "Petrificus!" Tom shouted, and Malfoy froze on the spot, unable to move as the snake moved towards him. Tom's cold turquoise-blue eyes met his frightened grey ones. "You," Tom said slowly, each word hammering home with an icy hammer, "Will NEVER call Minerva muck, or you will answer to me. Do you understand?"

The serpent had made its way across the corridor. Its diamond shaped head was a scant inch away from Malfoy's ankle. Its tongue flickered out with a sharp hiss. Malfoy was death white. "I understand, Riddle!" he said shrilly.

"Good." Tom released both spells. "Now go." Tom commanded, and Malfoy left at a run.

Tom, blue eyes still blazing with fury, turned back to Lachlan. His friend looked terrified, staring at Tom's wand like a housecat eyeing a tiger. "Listen...Tom," he began nervously.

Tom waved a hand, cutting Lachlan off. "No. You will listen to me," he said imperiously. Lachlan stopped mid-sentence. There was something about Tom's eyes...something...something that told him to obey. "Never doubt my power, and never doubt my word. You will not harm Minerva, you will not insult Minerva, and you will not speak ill of my relationship with her. If you disobey me in this, I will kill you, and never doubt that I can."

Lachlan's face was a mask of terror. "I-I will obey," he squealed.

"Good." The cold reply.

Suddenly, the icy rage that had enveloped Tom dispersed, and his actions of the last few minutes crashed down upon him. Hexing Malfoy? Threatening to kill his best friend? It was as if something had taken over him. Tom shuddered, and rubbed his hand across his eyes. When Lachlan looked into Tom's eyes again, their command for obedience had vanished.

"Riddle, you- you-" Lachlan broke off, as terror slowly trickled out of his face, and the original disgust returned. "Malfoy's right about you. You're not really a Slytherin, if you're dating a Gryffindor. And if you won't forget her, then we're not really friends. Mudblood!" he spat, and turned away, running off in the direction Malfoy had taken.

Tom watched him go. So much for loyal friends. He walked slowly through the castle, as Slytherins stared at with him in contempt, Ravenclaws in condescension, Hufflepuffs with indifference, and Gryffindors with hatred. He was alone, even though he was surrounded by people. He was popular, and yet he had no friends. Life was full of contradictions.

He couldn't see Minerva anywhere in the corridors, and the one Gryffindor he had dared ask had told him she was not in the Common room either. Maybe she was in the library, Tom thought hopefully. He headed in that direction, peering around the hallway in case he missed her.

When he reached the library, there was still no sign of her. Sighing, he searched through all the book shelves, and tables. He was about to give up, when he caught a glimpse of dark hair- in the Restricted Section! What was she doing there? Tom wondered. Glancing around quickly, he quietly slid inside, ducking behind a shelf to hide from the librarian's eyes.

He turned around a corner, and saw a sleeve of black Hogwarts robes flashing out of view. Tom did not dare call out in case the librarian heard. He turned around the next corner- and the person stood in front of him, beckoning. But it wasn't Minerva. The boy before him met Tom's eyes, and Tom almost screamed. He was staring at himself!

The other Tom touched a finger to his lips, for quiet, pointed to him, then tapped a book on the shelf. Tom slowly walked over, taking the book off the shelf. When he looked up again, the other Tom had disappeared. He panicked. Clutching the Forbidden book to his chest, he ran out of the Restricted area, and out of the library.

It wasn't until later, in his bedroom, that Tom finally had the chance to look at the book he had been shown, without someone else seeing. Blowing dust off the cover, he stared at the title.

" 'The Chamber Of Secrets,' " Tom read aloud. He opened the book. The first chapter was entitled: 'The Heir of Slytherin.' Tom sat down on his bed and began to read.

*...You're caught in a one way street...With the monsters in your head...*

Tom Marvalo Riddle dreamed.

He dreamed he stood in a huge chamber, an architectural artwork of towering marble pillars and high, sweeping ceilings. Hundreds of black-robed figures knelt in a circle around him, their heads pressed against the ground in complete servitude. He watched as two more of his servants entered the chamber, dragging a blond-haired young man inside.

"Julius Malfoy!" Tom said in surprise, recognising the man. Malfoy stared at him. Blood marred his pale skin, dripping over his eye from a deep cut on his forehead. He regarded Tom with a mix of terror and horror on his face. Tom smiled. The vaunted Pureblood feared him, then?

The two black-robed men threw Malfoy to his knees, just inside the circle. "Come here," Tom ordered. Malfoy shuffled forward, still on his knees. Tom threw up a hand. "Stop. Approach me on your stomach, like the worm you are."

Obediently, Malfoy fell onto his stomach, his face pressed against the floor. He wriggled forward, as the Black-robes laughed and jeered. Tom watched without expression, waiting until the blond boy was a foot or so away before he silenced his servants with a gesture.

"Please, Lord!" Malfoy gasped. Tom thought he would sing, at hearing the arrogant, proud Pureblood address him as "Lord."

"Please, Lord! Spare my life, I beg you-" Malfoy pleaded to Tom's feet, not daring to look up.

"Silence!" Tom commanded, and Malfoy stopped speaking. Tom regarded the boy before him. If he wanted, he could kill the arrogant bastard, and no-one would care. He could order him tortured, and all here would leap to comply. He could order Malfoy to grovel, to lick his boots, to kiss the ground before him, and the prat would do it. For the first time in his life, Tom felt he had everything he had ever wanted. Complete control. It was intoxicating.

"You see, Tom?" a voice spoke from the shadows. "Do you feel it? Do you feel your own power?"

"Yes," Tom breathed. "It is- it is wonderful!"

"Yes, Tom. But you are only dreaming. This power can be your reality, if you serve Grindlewald."

Grindlewald. That name broke the spell. "I will not obey him! He is a Dark wizard- evil."

The shadowed figure laughed. "Obey him? Hardly, Tom. Serve him, follow him, learn from him, and then kill him, when he can teach you nothing more. That is the road to power, Tom."

"No. NO! I won't listen to you! You're Grindlewald, trying to trick me!" Tom cried. Wake up. He had to wake up!

"I'm not Grindlewald, Tom." There was the hint of a cold smile in the voice. "I am you, Tom, and you are me."

"No, I'm not you. I am me! I am Tom Marvalo Riddle. I am Tom Marvalo Riddle. I am Tom Marvalo Riddle," Tom repeated over and over again, a mantra whispered under his breath like a prayer.

The figure laughed. "Fool." It stepped out from the shadows, and the firelight fell upon a monster's face, with red, slitted eyes, and a wide cobra-like nose. "Fool," it repeated. "I am Lord Voldemort."

Tom stared. Something about the name it had called itself clicked inside his head. " 'I am Lord Voldemort,' " Tom repeated. "That's just my name rearranged!"

"Fitting, then, isn't it?" the creature said. "My name is derived from your name, just as I come from your darkest thoughts and dreams, your most secret ambitions and yearnings. I am you, Tom, and you are me. Accept it. Use it. Welcome it," Voldemort hissed, and gestured towards Malfoy, still lying on his belly. "You hate him. I can feel it. You want to hurt him, hurt him badly, hurt him so that he will beg you for it to end, beg for you to kill him. I can show you how. Watch, Tom."

And Tom watched, as the Voldemort-creature moved slowly into the circle. It took Tom's wand in its pale, claw-like hand, and touched the wand to Malfoy's forehead. The creature whispered a word; "Crucio."

Malfoy's screams filled the air, echoing endlessly around the chamber as the silver-haired boy writhed in agony. Tom stared in fascination. Something inside him told him he should be horrified, that he should snatch his wand back. Something told him that Voldemort was evil. But he did not listen. He did not want to listen.

After a long, drawn out three minutes, Voldemort at last removed the spell. By the end of it, Malfoy lay limply on the ground, shuddering and shaking in the remembrance of agony. Voldemort smiled, and offered the wand to Tom. "Your turn," he whispered.

Tom stared at the boy, lying pathetically on the ground. He stared at the wand in his hands. He stared at the red gleaming eyes of the creature that said it was part of him. And he found himself remembering all the times Malfoy had called him a Mudblood, or insulted his parents, his friends, and Minerva. In a steady hand, he touched the wand to Malfoy's bloodstained forehead. "Crucio," he whispered. Voldemort's red eyes glowed with triumph, and then there was nothing more save screams.

*...When hopes and dreams are far away and... You feel that you can't face the day...*

Tom awoke. The heady thrill of power filled him, burning within him as if he would explode with magic. The memory of Malfoy, snivelling and weeping on the ground like the pathetic worm he was... Tom thought he could die from the joy of retribution. No. Not die from it. He was Tom Marvalo Riddle. He would be the greatest wizard in the history of the universe! He would find a way to conquer death, and the world would kneel before him.

"I am Tom Marvalo Riddle and I will be the greatest-" Tom paused. Tom Riddle...he still had his Muggle of a father's name. That was no name for a powerful wizard. Tom found himself thinking of his dream, with the other Tom inside it. It must have been that Tom that showed him the book in the library. Tom glanced at 'The Chamber of Secrets.'

He had already discovered more about magic in that book than Hogwarts could teach him in a thousand years. He was the Heir of Slytherin. That much was obvious. All the clues were there. And... if the other Tom had helped him find that book, then the other Tom was trying to help him. And the name his other side had taken for himself, Lord Voldemort...that was a good name for a wizard. Tom smiled, tapping his lip thoughtfully. Lord Voldemort...Oh, to hear Malfoy address him as Lord again! Tom smiled, remembering the Cruciatus curse. Such power had filled him as he spoke it!

But what if- What if it was only a dream? What if it was only a dream, sparked by his own ambitions and reading about the Heir of Slytherin- himself- before he went to sleep?

'It wasn't a dream, Tom,' the Dark Voice whispered within him.

"Who are you?" Tom said out loud.

The sound of distant laughter, high and cold, filled his ears. 'I told you, Tom. I am you. I am Lord Voldemort.'

"But if- if you are me, then why have you been telling me to serve Grindlewald. I don't want to serve him, and I don't want to be Dark, either."

'What do you want, Tom?' Voldemort whispered inside his head.

Tom closed his eyes. "I don't know. But I will not serve Grindlewald."

'Then don't serve him,' whispered the reply. 'Kill him, and his wizards will follow you instead. You will be Lord, Tom, and all of the power and glory will be yours, forever.'

Tom was silent.

'Don't you want to rule, Tom? Don't you want people to grovel before you in awe? Don't you want the Malfoy boy to grow up knowing that he is a worm compared to you? Or, if you will, don't you want to stop the Malfoy boy ever growing up?'

"Yes! No... I don't know!" Tom shouted. The whispers in his head did not stop.

'You can be their Lord, Tom! You can have power beyond even your wildest dreams! You can make everyone kneel before you, and obey. Don't you understand, Tom? Listen to me, and you alone will rule the universe!'

You alone... "No," Tom said, and he knew he had made his choice. "I don't want to rule alone. I'm tired of being alone."

'Then what do you want, Tom?' Voldemort repeated.

Tom closed his eyes, and the answer suddenly came to him, with the beauty and gentleness of softly falling snowflakes. "I want Minerva. I have enough, if I have her."

'Fool!' Voldemort raged within him. 'You will throw away your power for a girl?'

Tom paused. "No," he said. "I will not throw away my power. I consider it a fair trade. You lied. You are not my yearnings and dreams, for all of my dreams are of her. You are evil. You delight in the pain and misery of others. You are not me. I am not you."

'FOOL!' Voldemort screeched again, and there was something desperate in his voice. 'Look inside yourself, Tom, and you will find me! I am your fire, Tom! I am your strength! I am your ambition, boy!'

Ambition. That had been the downfall of Salazar Slytherin, and his entire House.

"I am not you," Tom said quietly. "I am myself."

'Not for long,' came the whispered reply. 'If I cannot turn you...Grindlewald is coming, boy...he will be here by dawn... we shall see who is the Lord of this body...' the voice trickled off into nothingness.

Tom sat on his bed in silence, staring at the book he still held in his hands. The Chamber of Secrets...There were some secrets he did not want to know. Tomorrow, he resolved, he would give the book to Dumbledore and confess everything.

Tomorrow... Voldemort's last words suddenly hit home. Grindlewald would be here by dawn...He would destroy Hogwarts to get to him... Minerva! He had to protect her! When day came, Grindlewald would be here... Tom had fallen asleep fully clothed. He leapt off the bed, grabbed his wand, and set off at a sprint towards Professor Dumbledore, the only person Tom had ever feared in his entire life. He could only hope that Grindlewald would be afraid of him too.

The creature that was Voldemort coiled silently inside Tom's head, nestled away in the darkest recesses of the boy's thoughts. In the shadows, there was the idea of muscles stretching, claws shifting. The Voldemort-creature was satisfied. By dawn, its battle with the boy would be decided. The boy could not hope to win, for he fought with weapons of hatred and anger, and the Voldemort-creature fed on those weapons. Soon, it would all be done.

*Let me be the one you call...If you jump I'll break your fall...Lift you up and fly away with you into the night...*

"Professor!" Tom shouted, thumping on the Transfiguration teacher's door. "Professor!"

Dumbledore opened the door, staring at Tom in surprise. "It's three o'clock in the morning, Mr Riddle. What brings you here?"

Tom opened his mouth, then stopped, unsure where to begin. (Professor, a demon is trying to take over my mind and make me the Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Oh, and I didn't do my homework. Anything else, Sir?) just didn't have the right ring to it. He shut his mouth.

Dumbledore watched him without expression for a moment. Then he sighed. "You might as well come in," he said, holding the door open.

"My office," Dumbledore said, directing Tom to his left. Tom walked into the room, then stopped when he realised a dark-haired girl was already sitting in one of the chairs.

"Minerva?" he said.

The girl jumped. "Tom!"

"What are you doing here?" they asked each other at the same time.

"After what you told me, I couldn't sleep," Minerva began. "And you mentioned the Professor to me, so I thought he could tell me more about what was happening to you-"

The door shut behind them, and Professor Dumbledore shuffled over to his desk, his auburn hair glinting like fire in the light. "Sit, please, Mr Riddle," he said quietly. "Miss McGonagall is here, beacause she is worried about certain dreams that you have been having, and neglected to inform me of earlier today when I specifically inquired." Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. Tom fidgeted. "Yet I am at as much of a loss as Miss McGonagall as to why you are here now, Mr Riddle. Would you care to explain?"

Tom shifted nervously. The Transfiguration Professor regarded him calmly, yet coldly. It was clear to Tom that Dumbledore considered him as much of an enemy as Grindlewald. The amiable professor had no twinkle in his eyes now. "Professor, I had another dream about Grindlewald."

Minerva straightened and stared at him in alarm. "Tom-" she began, taking his hand in hers.

Dumbledore cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Wait, please, Minerva. Continue, Mr Riddle."

Tom squeezed Minerva's hand. "Professor, in my dream, I was told that if I served Grindlewald, he would give me power, control, greatness."

"I see. And what did you answer, Mr Riddle?" Dumbledore asked.

"I said 'no,' Professor. I refused to serve him."

Dumbledore visibly relaxed. His expression warmed, the twinkle returning to his eyes. "I am very relieved, Tom. I have said to you before that you have the makings of a great wizard. But greatness is not about power, or control. A wizard cannot serve the Dark Arts, and be great, Tom. A wizard who uses his power to harm or control others is being controlled himself, by the darkness that afflicts Grindlewald and his followers. You are your own Master, Tom. I pray that you will always remain so. You made the right choice."

Voldemort's distant laughter resounded in Tom's head. He ignored it. He would be strong. "Professor, there is more. Grindlewald is coming. He will be here by dawn."

Minerva turned ash-white. Dumbledore merely nodded. "I expected as much."

"What do you plan to do, Sir?" Tom asked him, feeling relieved that at last someone else was taking charge.

Dumbledore was silent for a moment. He looked up again, and Tom was astounded by the courage he saw there. "I plan to challenge him to a wizard's duel," Dumbledore said.

"For me?" Tom asked. "Why?"

"Because of who you are," Dumbledore replied, and there was pride in his face as he watched the boy before him.

"You won't face him alone," Tom said steadfastedly. "I will be your second," he said, and bowed.

Dumbledore was hesitant. "Tom, you are brave, but are you strong enough? Grindlewald is-"

"Grindlewald fears you, Tom," Minerva said.

The two men stared at her. "What?" Tom spluttered.

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked.

"He fears you," Minerva continued patiently. "He is in your dreams to sap your will, he orders you to serve him, and is ready to kill you if you do not. It is clear, Tom. Unless he is your Lord, he is afraid to let you live. He fears you, Tom. You are a threat to him."

"Then I will be your second," Tom said confidently, and Dumbledore bowed to him in acceptance. Minerva watched them silently. Despite her words, her eyes were filled with tears.

"Tom, send an owl to Grindlewald. Challenge him to the duel," Dumbledore said. "I will notify the Headmaster, and some of the other professors." Tom hurried out, heading for the owlery.

Minerva watched him go, a single tear streaking down her cheek. "Protect him, Professor. Please."

"You love him, don't you?" Dumbledore said.

"Yes," Minerva smiled. "I think I do. And, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"I'm coming too. I promised him. If he falls, I will be there to catch him."

*...If you need to fall apart...I can mend a broken heart...*

Tom watched the owl flutter off into the night. Its tawny wings vanished behind a tree in a flicker of burnished gold. By dawn, Grindlewald's corpse would lie on the autumn ground, or Tom would be wishing that his were. "It has begun," he murmured to himself.

'No, boy,' the creature within him whispered to itself. 'This battle began more lifetimes ago then there are grains of sand on the beach. And it will never end, boy. The war is never over.'

By the time Tom had returned, the Headmaster had arrived, along with Professor Hawking; the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lithan; Potions, and Professor Tirnel, from Charms. Hawking was the Slytherin Head of House, Lithan of Ravenclaw, and Tirnel of Hufflepuff. Dumbledore was, of course, the Head of Gryffindor.

"Ah, Mr Riddle!" Hawking exclaimed. "At last you are joining us. Would you care to explain Dumbledore's rather wild story to us? The Dark Wizard, coming here? I think, Headmaster, that the good Transfiguration Professor has dipped a little too deeply into his brandy this evening."

Professor Lithan's pretty features twisted into contempt at Hawking's words. It was no secret that Hawking was jealous of Dumbledore, and sought every oppurtunity to undermine him. She smiled poisonously at the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. "So you can think, Professor? I must say, you are a marvellous actor. I never would have guessed it."

"Now, now," the Headmaster said, his tone suggesting that he was chastising students, not senior members of his teaching staff. "Perhaps we should let Mr Riddle explain himself, before we make any accusations."

"Agreed," Tirnel said. "Speak, Riddle."

Tom's eyes flew around the room, first meeting the Headmaster's curious, yet encouraging expression, then Lithan's owlishly unblinking stare. Tirnel met Tom's glance with his usual frown. Hawking did not look at him, his burning stare fastened on Dumbledore. Dumbledore had fixed his attention entirely on Tom. He caught Tom's eyes, and winked.

Feeling more confident, Tom opened his mouth. "I-"

"Speak up, Riddle!" Tirnel barked.

Tom jumped. "Yes, Sir!" he said automatically, unconsciously standing at attention. Tirnel was a tyrant in Charms. "I- I- I," Tom decided to say it outright. "Grindlewald is coming. He will be here by dawn."

"If this is a prank, I must say it is in rather bad taste," Hawking interjected. "Have you any proof?"

"I've been having nightmares," Tom said.

"I see," Hawking said. "Last time I checked, a 5th year student 'having nightmares' did not justify a conference in the middle of the night! Is there a point to this, Dumbledore?"

"Let Tom continue," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Speak!" Tirnel ordered.

Somehow, Tom found the strength to keep his voice controlled, even though he felt like screaming at them all to stop wasting time, that Grindlewald was coming. A grandfather clock in the corner of Dumbledore's office proclaimed the time to be five minutes past four. There wasn't much time. Tom tried to make his voice as convincing as possible.

"I've been having nightmares," he repeated, "and Grindlewald is in them."

"Not surprising," Hawking interrupted dryly. "Half the wizarding world has nightmares about Grindlewald. With all due respect, Headmaster, I think we are wasting our time with this."

"With all due respect, Professor Hawking, this is an emergency. I do not care what you have to say, and I will thank you to stop interrupting me every sentence," Tom said, as politely as possible.

Hawking spluttered in indignation. The three other Professors were suddenly all smiles, although Dumbledore attempted to suppress his.

Hawking opened his mouth, no doubt to give Tom a year of detention. "Enough, Professor," Tom said. "You will listen to me. You must all listen to me," he said, directing his words around the room.

"Forceful, isn't he?" Lithan murmured.

Forceful? But he had to be. Tom's eyes fell on Minerva, sitting unobtrusively in the corner. If he didn't convince them, Hogwarts would fall, and Minerva would be killed. He would do what he must to keep her safe.

"Headmaster, Professors, this is not a prank. You must believe me. Grindlewald has studied the Dark Arts. Who knows what power he possesses? But I have been having dreams about him, and there were...signs...within them which told me they were true dreams."

"Like what?" Lithan asked.

"I knew he had taken Beauxbatons three days before the news arrived. He said that he 'had crushed it, just like he would crush Hogwarts.' "

Hawking snorted in disbelief, but did not say anything. Lithan spoke again; "I am more open-minded then ...certain others... here, but that is impossible to prove, Riddle."

"Very well," Tom said. "If you want proof... Two weeks ago, he gave me this;" and Tom rolled up the sleeve of his robe, displaying a long, deep half-healed gash along his left forearm.

"Good God!" Tirnel swore, betraying his Muggle upbringing.

Dumbledore was just as surprised. Tom hadn't mentioned his arm before. "He did this when I refused- again- to serve him. He cursed me, and I threw up my arms to protect myself. It would have hit me in the chest if I had not."

Lithan stepped forward, taking Tom's arm. After examining it for a moment, she nodded to her colleagues. "This is indeed a curse wound," she said.

"So?" Hawking said. "Riddle is in the Dueller's Club. Another student cursed him, the Champion was too proud to admit it and didn't go to see the nurse. Bringing Grindlewald into it like this...Riddle is deluding himself."

Tom glared at Hawking. "You are coming close- very close- to calling me a liar. Why would I lie about this? It makes no sense."

"Why don't you explain that to us, then, Riddle?" Hawking sniped. "I do not want to spend my night talking about Grindlewald. I do not want to think about Grindlewald."

"That's it, isn't it?" Tom said. "You don't want to think about Grindlewald, which is why you refuse to even consider the possibility that I am telling the truth! Coward!"

"Tom, that is enough!" Dumbledore said sharply.

"No, Professor, it isn't!" Tom shouted, without taking his eyes or attention off Hawking. "You are so terrified of Grindlewald that you try to convince yourself that he doesn't exist! You're pathetic!"

"Tom!" Dumbledore cut in. "Enough!"

The boy subsided reluctantly.

Hawking stepped forward. "I am afraid of Grindlewald, Riddle. I am terrified of him, and only a fool would not be, you arrogant little-"

"Ah!" Dumbledore cut in, as the other teachers watched in fascination.

"I fear him too, Professor," Tom said to his Head of House. "But I don't let my fear rule me. Only Hufflepuffs do that, sir."

"Shall I ignore that insult, and settle with asking if this is the point where you hug and make up?" Tirnel said dryly.

"I don't hug," Tom said, backing away from Hawking in horror.

"This is all very touching," Lithan interjected, "but back to the matter at hand. Even if Riddle is telling the truth, why would Grindlewald infiltrate his dreams? What purpose does the Dark have behind this?"

"Haven't you guessed? Haven't you seen the signs? Don't you know who he is?" Dumbledore's voice rang out loud.

"Who is he, Albus? Enlighten us. I've had enough suspense for one night," the Headmaster said.

The room was silent, save for the endless ticking of the clock. Fifteen minutes to five. The whole world was silent, waiting for Dumbledore to speak. "He is the Heir, Headmaster. The signs all point to him. He is the next Heir, the one prophesised to be more powerful and far more terrible than all of those who went before him. He is the Dark Heir, Headmaster. In this room, stands the next Dark Lord."

Four pairs of eyes shifted unanimously to Tom. "It's true," he said. "I am the Heir."

"God Almighty," Tirnel swore under his breath. "What do we do with him? He's only a boy- but we don't dare let him live."

"NO!" Minerva cried, speaking for the first time. She moved forward to stand next to Tom. "You can't- you can't be serious! This is Tom! He's not-You're not evil, Tom!"

"McGonagall! What is she doing here?" Lithan asked Dumbledore, peering at the until-now unnoticed girl before her. Dumbledore smiled slightly, glancing at Minerva, then very pointedly at Tom.

"Oh!" Lithan said, in sudden understanding. "But he's- he's the Heir to the Dark Arts!"

"I refuse my inheritance," Tom said coldly.

"Has he a choice?" Hawking said. "If he is the one prophesised...Logically, doesn't that mean he is fated to be evil?"

"There is always a choice," Dumbledore said. "And he has made his." He leaned forward, his face alive with excitement. "Don't you understand? A Dark Lord that follows the Light! Tom can end it at last! If the Heir refuses his inheritance, then who will be there to train the next? If one link is removed, the entire chain is broken! This could mean-"

"The end of the Dark!" Hawking finished. "Mr Riddle, I could kiss you!"

"Please don't," Tom said.

There was a tapping at one of the windows. Tom and Dumbledore looked at each other. "The answer," Tom said. He opened the window, and a huge, black owl flew in. Tom retrieved the message from its leg. It was one word only. "Accepted," he read allowed. He glanced around at the blank expressions of the Professors. "We challenged Grindlewald to a duel," he explained.

Tom glanced at the clock again. Ten past five. "Professor, we have thirty-five minutes until Grindlewald comes. Then we end this."

Dumbledore smiled proudly at Tom, his eyes misting over. "Because of you, Tom, today will dawn with a new hope."

*...If you need to crash... Then crash and burn...You're not alone.*

"Where is your second?" Dumbledore demanded.

Grindlewald swaggered confidently. "I won't be needing a second. But if you insist on following the rules... Tarone! Here!" he ordered. One of his five followers stepped forward, smirking unpleasantly at Tom. Tom realised that Grindlewald's servants were not pleased with the idea of him being raised above them.

"Perhaps you should call for a third?" he suggested to Tarone. "You'll need one."

"I see you are confident, boy," the Dark follower said.

"Very," Tom assured him brightly. "Do you want a fourth, as well?"

"Foolish child," his opponent laughed. "I was studying the Dark Arts whilst you were playing with toys in your cradle. My Lord will reward me well for capturing you."

"The dead can give no rewards," Tom said.

Dumbledore moved closer to the boy. 'Tom, are you sure you want to do this? This isn't a game anymore, Tom. This could be your life, or your death. If I burn, you will burn with me. It's not too late to back out, and let one of the Professors take over."

"I will not be a coward," Tom said resolutely.

Dumbledore sighed. He had tried. "Then say your goodbyes." He moved away, to reveal Minerva standing behind him.

"Tom-" she began, tears streaking down her face.

"Hush, my love," he whispered, hugging her to him.

"Do you mean that?"

"Mean what?"

" 'My love.' Do you mean it?"

"Yes," Tom said. "I do. I love you."

"I love you too, Tom."

"Thank you," he murmured into her hair.

"For what?"

"For loving me. For being you. When I think of you, I am never alone. You are my Light, Minerva. No matter what happens, I will always love you, I promise. Past death, I will love you."

"Tom! Don't die! Don't leave me! I couldn't bear it! Please, Tom, please, don't die!"

"I will never leave you, Minerva. You are the reason I did not turn to the Dark. They offered me everything they thought I would want, but all I really want, all I need, is you."

A few metres away, Lithan wiped a tear of her cheek. "Oh, that's so touching!" she said. "The joys of teenage love!" Dumbledore, escaping from a rib-crushing hug from Tirnel, agreed whole-heartedly. "But wait!" Lithan cried out. "Albus, after you win this duel of yours... We need to give them The Talk. Teenage love leads to teenage pregnancy!"

Dumbledore laughed. "I'm glad that you are so confident in me, my friend, if you are already worrying about two fifteen year olds' hormones!" They both glanced at Minerva and Tom, then looked away again to give them some privacy. "They seem to enjoy kissing enough, anyway," Dumbledore said. "Ah, to be fifteen again!" he added wishfully, winking at the Professor.

Lithan elbowed him. "Grow up," she advised.

*...Because there has always been heartache and pain...*

"Begin," the Headmaster said.

"Imperio!" Grindlewald shouted. Dumbledore ducked. That was all Tom managed to see, for Tarone sent a curse towards him. Tom blocked it easily. "Serpentsortia!" he commanded. The snake shot out of his wand. Tarone barely glanced at it. "Finite Incantum," he said lazily. The snake disappeared. "Pathetic," the Dark follower said.

Tom stared at him, rage tinged with fear filling him. Inside his mind, the Voldemort-creature stirred at the emotions. '...Soon...' it whispered to itself. "Petrificus Totalus!" Tom yelled. Tarone barely blocked it in time. "Good," the Dark servant said. "Perhaps there is hope for you after all. Infernus!"

A cloud of fire rushed towards Tom. "Hydro!" he shouted, and the flames were doused by a giant wave.

Minerva watched it all with her heart in her mouth, as Tom and his opponent used curse and counter-curse. It looked like the Duelling Champion had finally met his match. The opposing wizard did not appear to be tiring at all, and Tom clearly was.

Tom dodged another ball of fire, panting for breath. How could he win this? How could he defeat a wizard with full command of the Dark Arts? '...let me show you...' Voldemort whispered, seizing its chance. No! I will not be the Heir, Tom thought furiously.

'...you don't have to be...' the voice whispered back, inside his mind, '...but you can live...I showed you what to do...use what I taught you...'

Tom considered. The next curse Tarone threw at him missed, and cut through the trunk of an oak tree. He's going to kill me, Tom realised. He had to fight back with all the weapons he had. Tom remembered the curse Grindlewald had used on Dumbledore at the beginning of the duel.

"Imperio!" he shouted, catching Tarone by surprise. Tarone stopped, his eyes glazing over. What on earth? How did this curse work? 'Command him with your thoughts,' Voldemort whispered, 'and he will obey.'

Touch your toes, Tom thought. Tarone touched his toes. Jump up and down, was the next order. Tarone jumped up and down. Tom laughed out loud. This curse was fun! At his direction, Tarone started doing backflips and walking on his hands.

Malevolence surged up in the dark spaces of his mind. 'What else have I taught you?' Voldemort demanded. 'Use it. Use ALL of it. Give in to your hatred. Destroy him.'

Yes, Tom thought. He must destroy the Dark Arts. Tarone must die. 'But let him first suffer pain,' Voldemort whispered. Yes. The wizard must feel pain, for the pain he had caused others.

Come here, Tom thought. Obediently, Tarone approached. Kneel, Tom thought. Tarone knelt. Tom touched the tip of his wand to Tarone's forehead. In that instant, he forgot the other four Dark wizards, watching silently as a boy humbled one of their number. He forgot the other Professors, standing guard over the duel. He even forgot Dumbledore, battling for both his and Tom's life, against the most evil wizard in the world.

Curled up in his mind, Voldemort waited in expectant, and exultant silence. Tom cast the spell. "Crucio!"

*...And when it's over you'll breathe again... You'll breathe again...*

Agonized screams split the pre-dawn darkness. Dumbledore jumped. For an instant, he had been terrified that Tom had been hurt. His concentration wavered, and he half-lowered his wand, watching Tom inflict the most hideous pain imaginable on his opponent. Grindlewald did not take advantage of Dumbledore's defencelessness. He, too, was staring at Tom, but with pride.

"The Cruciatus curse," he mumbled. "You are truly my Heir!"

Dumbledore snapped out of his reverie. "No," he said. "He is not." Dumbledore raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted. There was a flash of green light, and Grindlewald's unmarked corpse fell to the ground. "It is over!" Dumbledore shouted. "It is finished!"

The silver light of morning split the darkness. The day dawned with a tyrant's death.

"Tom!" Minerva screamed behind Dumbledore. "Tom, stop!"

Dumbledore spun around. Tom's wand tip was still pressed against the Dark wizard's forehead. The wizard had ceased screaming long ago. Now he was convulsing from head to toe, a thin wail escaping from his throat. The Professor hurried over. He snatched the wand from Tom's hand. The Dark wizard collapsed upon the ground.

Minerva shook Tom's shoulder. He hadn't moved. "Tom?" she asked. His head turned slightly, very slightly, and both Minerva and Dumbledore looked directly into his face. A mask of rage twisted his features, yet his eyes... His blue eyes glowed with malevolence, and hatred. Then his gaze fell upon Minerva, and everything shifted, as Tom returned to himself. He stared around himself in puzzlement. "Minerva, what-" he began, then collapsed, his knees buckling beneath him. Minerva dropped to her knees beside him. "Tom!"

His hand rose clumsily, touching her cheek. 'I love you," he mumbled, just on the edge of hearing. The light faded from his eyes.

"TOM!" Minerva cried. "Is he-is he-" she couldn't bring herself to say the word.

"Dead? Hardly!" Dumbledore said, far more cheerfully than he felt. "He's just unconscious, Minerva. It must be the drain he suffered from the amount of spells he has cast this morning." She nodded, accepting his words. But doubt wormed inside Dumbledore. The hatred that had radiated out from the boy when he cast that spell- that had not been Tom. "Enervate," Dumbledore said. The boy did not wake.

Tom was trapped, Dumbledore realised, trapped within his mind, with- whatever else it was in there. He could receive no outside help. For the first time in his life, Dumbledore felt powerless. His student was battling for his immortal soul, and he, Dumbledore, could do nothing save wait to see who-or what- won.

He knelt down on the grass beside Minerva. The sunrise stained the sky in violet, rising brightly over Grindlewald's corpse, and Tom's body. Soon, the castle would be waking. Soon, the duel fought on the Hogwarts grounds would be discovered, and heroes would be named.

Dumbledore stared at Tom's youthful face. The boy looked almost angelic as the sunrise washed his features with light.

"I duelled Grindlewald for you, and saved your life. Yet you saved mine. You distracted Grindlewald, and I was able to kill him, when he would surely have killed me. We are bonded to each other, you and I, in a Wizard's LifeDebt." Tom did not move. Not even the slightest twitch of a muscle betrayed the battle raging behind his eyes. Dumbledore sighed. He hadn't really expected an response.

"Oh, Tom," he murmered. "Be your own Lord. You have the strength to win."

*...Let me be the one you call...If you jump I'll break your fall...Lift you up and fly away with you into the night...*

"Crucio," Tom had said, and Voldemort had laughed with triumph. And as Tom held the wand to Tarone's forehead, the power had surged through him, filled him, overflowing, a wild sea of hatred and malevolence.

'Succumb,' Voldemort had whispered, and Tom had allowed the currents to push him under, as he drifted in a shadowed ocean of evil. But then, the power had snapped, and the ocean disappeared. But the gloom had remained, and he could not see, until- until his Light appeared.

"Minerva!" he had said. "What-" but he could not speak, and he could not stand, as the ocean rose, beating against him, telling him to drown himself within it. He collapsed. The Dark rose again, but the Light was still there, white and pure. The shadowed waves battered against it, and slowly, inch by inch, the Light was being swallowed by the black depths.

He reached out to touch the Light. "I love you," he whispered. The Light disappeared, and then there was nothing save darkness.

'It's not the beginning, boy. And it is far from the end. But it is your time now,' the familiar Dark voice whispered from the darkness.

"Where- who- What are you?" Tom cried out.

'I am your thoughts, Tom. I am the thoughts of all of the people in the world. I exist in the dark spaces and shadowed corners of their minds. I thrive on their hatreds, their desires, and jealousies. I was there, waiting, when the first ray of light touched the ocean. I was the primeval darkness, the first evil. I am the Dark Side of all the thoughts of all the people who ever lived. I am Lord Voldemort.'

"Where am I?" Tom asked.

"We are inside your mind. The line has been drawn for your final battle. It is your time,' Voldemort said. Its voice seemed to come from all sides at once.

Tom's voice rose thinly into the billowing shadows. "Who am I to fight?"

'Me.'

"You?! But you were helping me..." Tom's voice trailed off. Had he been that much of a gullible fool?

The creature laughed, high and cold. Snake-like. 'Foolish boy. So you at last understand? We will fight, you and I. A wizard's duel. Bow.'

"A- a duel? But I don't have my wand!"

"You will not be using your wand."

"But I can't see you!"

The cold laughter echoed through the gloom again. Suddenly, the shadows were lifted, and Tom stood in a grey cloud. A silhouetted figure slowly made its way towards him. Mist tumbled away before him, until he was only a short distance from Tom. The last veil of fog fell away from the figure's body.

Tom stared into his own face.

Voldemort bowed. 'You can see me, now.'

"But you are- you are me!"

The other Tom's face twisted into an expression of pained patience. 'Haven't you been listening to me? I am your thoughts, Tom! I exist because of you. If an evil thought had never crossed your mind, if you had never dreamed of the Dark, then I could not survive within you! I feed off your hatred, boy, and it has made me strong, far stronger than I have ever been before!'

"Like a parasite feeding on its host," Tom said. "You suck the emotions out of me, until there is nothing left save a shell, and then you move on to your next victim?"

'No,' the other Tom whispered. 'Not this time. I sense power within you, even if you are to blind to use it. I like your body. I think I will keep it."

"I will not be the Dark Lord!" Tom shouted.

'Fool,' Voldemort replied. 'You are not the Heir to the Dark. I am.'

"Then what do you want from me?" Tom whispered.

'A duel.'

"But how can I fight you?" Tom stalled.

The other Tom's face creased into a smug smile. 'That is the beauty of it, Tom. You can't. Begin!'

And the wave of darkness enveloped everything.

Tom ran wildly though the blackness. The night was unyielding; there was nothing save endless dark. How could he fight this? How? He sensed whispers, just on the edge of hearing; whispers of hatred. He was surrounded by an unfathomable ocean of pure evil. Tom knew that if he succumbed to it, he would sink into the depths of madness. For the first time in his life, Tom Riddle felt true fear. He was faced with an enemy he could not fight, could not run from. If he surrendered, he would be dead or worse.

The Dark was waiting.

Tom stopped. He could not fight this. He could not hate it. Hatred made it stronger. He watched the oozing miasma. It was pure darkness. What he needed- Tom paused, thinking- what he needed, was a light.

Tom closed his eyes, and called upon his thoughts of Minerva. He remembered their first kiss, on the Hogwarts Express, remembered the moment he realised he loved her, and the joy he had felt when she said that she loved him. He remembered the time they arranged to meet at the Astronomy Tower, and had sat together for hours, bathed in starlight. He rememembered the feel of her hand slipping into his, as they walked down a corridor together, and the beauty and warmth of her smile. Surrounded by hatred and darkness, Tom remembered his Light, and his love.

He opened his eyes. A halo of pure light surrounded him, and the darkness was being beaten back. He could win this! He could win this!

'No, boy,' whispered Lord Voldemort's voice. 'You can't.' Tom realised that its voice was not coming from the darkness. Its voice was the darkness! And the shadows were rising.

He was falling, and Minerva wasn't there to catch him.

*...If you need to fall apart... I can mend a broken heart...*

'Foolish child,' the blackness pulsed with the malevolent whisper. 'You think that you can defeat me? I am older than time itself. I fought this battle against Salazar Slytherin, and crushed him. You pathetic weakling. Do you truly believe a silly child can win where Slytherin failed?' Cold laughter echoed from the shadows.

Tom stood firm. He had to believe, or he was lost.

'Foolish child,' Voldemort whispered again. 'You seek to use love against me. Slytherin did not think of that. Yet your memories of love are of one person, only. The love of one girl, against the hatred of the entire world?'

Tom remained silent, thinking about Minerva's intelligent green eyes.

'So be it,' Voldemort whispered. 'You have chosen a weapon of love. And I have chosen mine. Doubt. Let me show you, Tom...'

The darkness disappeared, and Tom found himself swallowed by something different, a memory drawn out of the loneliness of his childhood.

Tom stood in the corner of a large room, curtains pulled across to cover the sunlight. A young woman lay on a bed by a shuttered window. She stared blankly at the wall opposite her. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but no tears were coming now. She looked exhausted and emotionally drained, weariness emptying her face of all expression.

The door opened quietly, and a nurse walked into the room, carrying a baby. "Madam, I have brought your son," she said, proferring the baby boy to the woman. The child had a mop of dark hair, and bright blue eyes. Tom was shocked. The little boy was him! He was seeing himself as a month or so old baby! And that meant..."Mother," Tom said, staring at the woman lying on the bed.

'Yes,' came the whisper. 'But your father left you, for he did not love you, and your mother...watch, Tom. Wait and see.'

"I did not ask to see him," the woman said, not taking her eyes from the wall.

"I know," the nurse replied. "But Madam, let me be blunt. The poor child has already been deprived of a father. At least let him know his mother's love."

At last the woman stirred. She sat up, treating the baby Tom to an unblinking stare. "I do not love him," she said. "How can I? The man I loved deserted me because of my pregnancy. How can I love the son of the man who broke my heart?" And she turned her face back to the wall.

Tom's eyes filled with tears. At the orphanage, he had been told that his mother died giving birth to him. Now, it seemed, she had pined away after her man left her. Her new born son was clearly not enough to keep her alive, Tom reflected bitterly.

The clean orb of Light dimmed a little.

'Even your mother did not love you...' Voldemort whispered. 'In your life, the girl is the only one who has ever truly cared about you, Tom.'

"That's not true!" Tom said. 'My friends-"

'Your friends? Shall we look at those memories, too?'

********

"Freak!" screamed the orphanage bully, heaving a fistful of mud at an eight year old Tom.

"Mudblood!" Lachlan spat at him.

"Slytherin scum!" sniped a Ravenclaw girl, his fourth year crush, after he finally worked up the courage to ask her to the Yule Ball.

********

'These are your friends, Tom? I ask again, who has ever cared about you?'

"Pro-Professor Dumbledore cares about me!"

Malicious laughter echoed around him. 'Dumbledore is using you, Tom. He thinks that you could be the one to end the Dark Arts. He doesn't care about you as a person, Tom. You are merely another pawn to him, in an endless chess game between the Light and the Dark.'

"That's not true!" Tom shouted, but the seed of Doubt had already been sown.

The orb of Light shrank a little.

'Who, then, Tom? Who cares about you?'

Tom was silent.

'No one,' Voldemort said. 'If you never wake, who would mourn you?'

"Minerva would," Tom said. "She loves me."

'She loves you? She doesn't know anything about you, boy! Two months of clandestine meetings at night, and she loves you? You naive child. She's fifteen years old. How can she-or you- tell who she loves?"

Tom watched the orb of Light. It had diminished in size and lustre, but it still shone brightly. "I can tell by this," he said, gesturing towards the brightness. "This is her love for me."

'Then watch her love die!' Voldemort snarled, and the darkness rose, throwing itself at the white orb of light. No! Tom screamed silently to himself. Somehow, he knew that if the Light faded, he was dead. He had to keep the Light shining.

I love you too, Tom, her voice whispered in his memory. Then; Don't leave me! I couldn't bear it!

Tom held onto her words as hard as he could, imagining a thin thread of light running between him and Minerva with the memory of her love. But it was not enough.

The shadows rose, the blackness billowing forward like clouds in the wind. The Dark lapped at the Light like a dog drinking water, sapping the brightness from the orb. In a few seconds, the orb had been destroyed, the thin thread snapped.

The night overwhelmed everything.

*...If you need to crash then crash and burn...You're not alone...*

Laughter echoed around him, high and cold, almost glittering in the air with icy malice. 'YOU LOSE!' Voldemort screeched triumphantly. 'Now DIE, boy!' and the ground disappeared from beneath his feet.

Tom was falling, falling, falling through a whirlpool inside the Sea of the Night. Dimly, he was aware that something had happened, but he could not connect his thoughts properly. He felt pain, pain that he knew he would not survive. Tom realised he was dying.

The vague memory of a Light shone above him, but he was drowning within an ocean of Darkness, and he could not reach the ball that hovered so dimly near the surface. But a thread connected him to it, and his thoughts opened to it.

Peace, and the memory of love filled him.

The whirlpool sucked him down, further and further into the inky depths, but he carried his Light with him. The twisting currents were lifting him slightly, to slam him down upon the rocks at the bottom of the ocean.

Tom smiled beatifically, unafraid of the knowledge of his imminent death. "I love you, Minerva," he whispered, and died the way he had lived. Alone.

*

Lord Voldemort opened his- Tom's- eyes, blinking at the bright light of day. The Dark Heir looked around himself, and smiled. The battle was as old as time, never new, never over. But this stage of the war was just beginning......

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A/N: Okay, that was very long and very unsongficcy, wasn't it? And cliched. And I made a lot of mistakes, didn't I? But I tried. I really did! *sob* If you ever want me to show my face in fanfiction again, please review? I spent days on this! Well, two and a half days. But you get the idea. By the way, the last repeat of the chorus was meant to be competely opposite to what happened in the story. Just clarifying.

Please review. I love getting reviews! Also, if this story actually worked, and you're feeling rather depressed and need a laugh, read my other fic, entitled; Tommy, Darling, Are You Gay?

A/N: You are getting very sleepy...your eyelids are getting heavy... you will close your eyes and go to sleep...and when you wake up, you will review my fic! Query: Does hypnosis work?