Author's Note: Greetings fellow readers! This is the first time I've posted a Harry Potter story! I'm not gonna lie, this came from a really weird combination of thinking of winter and listening to sappy K-Pop songs ("I Swear" by mega cuties, SISTAR). I'll try to update regularly. ( ´▽`)
Warnings: There's gonna be a lot of exposition and description in this chapter as I plotted it out as a one shot and eventually realized that it was simply too impractical as it was. So it's pretty heavy in so far. It'll get lighter and easier to digest information-wise later on; sorry for the trouble.
He shut his eyes, letting the frigid darkness pool over him; it easily seeped through his threadbare blanket.
The night felt moonless and starless, like black ink had spilled across the sky and blotted out any light it had found in the ancient skies.
Nighttime in Wool's Orphanage always felt like that, as the world outside drifted in and he was simply left to drown in it.
He shared his room with no one, which was a surprising fact, considering the pitiful state of the orphanage. In the light of day he was able to use the room as a place of comfort and solitude, to escape the resentful, angry and jealous looks the other orphans would shoot him when they thought he was unaware (which was a hugely stupid move on their part; Tom would never let down his guard enough to be considered "unaware").
Yet the state of roommate-less-ness left him lonely (not that he would ever admit it to anyone). He had no friends in the orphanage and while the 'friends' he had made at Hogwarts were far better, he still needed far more companionship and interaction than an average snake could provide.
Tom scoffed at his own thoughts and banished them from his mind. He had never needed anyone to keep him company and he certainly wasn't going to change that now.
With a sigh he turned to his side and burrowed deeper into his blanket, eventually drifting off into a deep sleep, even as the world grew colder and colder around him.
It was snowing.
Everything was a flurry of white and cold, with the snowflakes that fell being the only source of light in the colorless world he found himself in.
The sky that hung above him was dark and empty, as if all of the stars and planets that had clustered the heavens had simply fallen away.
The snow on the ground was already tread on, with a single set of footprints leading into the dark depths of the overgrown forest. The trees themselves were a oddly majestic sight, with rust colored bark that was reminiscent of shiny scales, long twisting branches, and trunks that seemed to never end. They were completely alien against the wintery landscape, especially with the insolent leaves that clung to the branches themselves and the sheer volume of them. They seemed more like heads sprouting from serpentine necks than leaves.
He felt compelled to follow the path before him, knowing instinctively that it was intended solely for him and that no harm would befall him if he followed it. It was a feeling he rarely got, especially as a particularly skeptical and cynical boy.
Concealing his curiosity, not intentionally but rather out of force of habit, he followed the footprints which seemed to fit his feet and his usual stride perfectly. The wind around his form seemed to howl with excitement.
Walking forward, he was almost grateful to have the falling flakes to illuminate the way for him, as the forest around him seemed to only grow darker as he progressed. With that in mind, Tom tripped over an exposed tree root that had been shrouded in the darkness.
He grunted and shrugged the snow off of him, stopping to fix anything that might have gotten rumpled in the fall. It was another one of his learned habits that he gained from his time in Slytherin; you either kept a perfectly manicured appearance or fell even further down the social hierarchy.
The previously howling wind began to grow in intensity, until it became a deafening roar and he was forced to cover his ears. Then, he heard a clear voice amongst the noise:
"RIDDLE, HURRY UP!"
He stopped his preening and stood, noting that the once clear footprints had begun to distort and become more beastly in form. They still showed a somewhat clear path, despite having become more erratic and spotty, rather than the previously linear prints. The bright snowflakes also seemed to have dimmed, leaving the path even less visible than it had been when he had managed to stumble and fall.
He burst into a sprint, following the steps as far as he could until he came upon a fork in the path laid before him. The steps seemed to disappear completely, not even a hint of their forms left. He was at best confused, and at worst lost, as whatever had been leading him previously had decided to let him choose his path.
The rightmost path seemed to radiate a sort of overbearing heat, at odds with the wintery atmosphere. The leftmost path was forebodingly dark, with the same sort of frost that the world around it had.
If Tom were a boy to simply do the expected, to make the most natural of human choices, he would gone right; but Tom was not simply a human boy, he had been destined for more since his very conception. With his choice made, the strangely alluring voice that had called him before seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and the wind seemed to whisper "thank you" against his ears.
With that, he chose the leftmost path and followed it until his body felt like one with the cold and darkness that had endlessly surrounded him for what felt like years. He walked even beyond the darkness and cold and came upon what seemed to be the end of the once seemingly endless road.
Light poured in from between a curtain of overhanging leaves, which came from two smooth cream colored trees that poked out like sore thumbs amongst the sea of scaly trees, as well as a light minty scent; with a casual poise, he parted them and came upon what seemed like an impossible space in between the forest. It was a clearing, with light pouring upon a gigantic tree, with a steps carved into the sides and a large throne-like alcove, where a boy was seated.
He gave off the sense sense of being incredibly fragile, from his crisscrossed legs, to the thick black furred sweater that seemed to engulf his small frame. There was something off about him, that stretched beyond his strange appearance (from his fiercely sharp cheekbones to the thick white spotted eyelashes that were attached to his purple-veined eyelids and the odd black markings that seemed to be carved into the side of the boy's neck). It dawned on him as his eyes wondered off the black haired boy; the world around the haloed tree was midnight blue, as if the boy had stolen all of the light for himself. Even the sky itself seemed empty, besides the small hazy moon that seemed to shine solely on him.
"It seems that you made the right decision, even without my help!"
His mouth stretched into a cheeky grin, and any sense of wrongness that Tom felt easied off. Instead, he felt a burning curiosity to know what had lead to him coming here, to the absolute darkness that surrounded them, and all of the other oddities that had plagued him since he arrived.
The boy moved out of the alcove, and made so as to approach him, leading Tom to steel his gaze and step forward as well. There seemed to be no threat in so far but he refused to seem like a perfect victim if a battle were to come about. They stood face to face, with an odd resemblance between one another.
The boy put out his hand, and Tom hesitated before taking it and shaking it confidently, until he realized that the very same snowflakes that had once been leading him here were now sticking to his skin and seemingly merging into him, pushing painfully into his magical core.
He struggled to pull his hand free, as he screamed, anger and pain overwhelming his body. The other boy held onto his hand tighter, his face looking far grimmer than before.
The barrage of energy soon ended, and he went lax, and fell to his knees on the snowy ground, feeling like he'd been run over by a train. The boy sat down next to him, his seafloor colored eyes fixed on Tom's dark ones, and his face seemed to scrunch up.
"My apologies, Riddle, but I had to ensure that your connection to the prophecy was broken."
"Oh shove it," he bit out, clutching his aching abdomen. His body was still in pain from the forced energy transfer, and he was in no mood to hear some idiot give him a half-assed apology.
The boy shut up and waited for Tom to call on him; it was a oddly submissive gesture, doubly so on such a lithe boy.
Fearing that he'd never get any answers if he continued to let the idiot waste his time, as he dusted himself off. The snow was they were seated on was surprisingly warm.
"What exactly did you do to me?" His eyebrow rose, and his eyes narrowed as he impatiently waited for the other to respond.
The other seemed to be mulling it over in his head, almost uncertain of what to say in the face of a pissed off Tom Riddle. Honestly, what did he expect when he was pulling something like that.
He sighed and stared up at Tom through his strange eyelashes, as Tom was taller than Potter even while sitting. He seemed tired even to the naked eye.
"This is gonna sound very very strange, and possibly even a little dumb," Tom snorted, already certain that this speech was going to end terribly. The boy perked up a bit, and puffed out his chest. It seemed like things were going to get interesting, then.
"I am formally known as Death," the boy's lips quirked and his eyes seemed to glow, and Tom felt inclined to believe his words. He tacked on a "I was originally known as Harry Potter and I much prefer that though" with a quick grin.
Tom felt a need to roll his eyes but ignored it, urging Potter to continue talking with a quick hand gesture.
"This is your mindscape, which is the only place that I can truly access your magic without being rebuffed or having Fate interfere directly," Potter went on to explain and Tom's face looked like a sour lemon. He had recently begun to study the mind arts, and hadn't been able to gain access to the magical manifestation of his mind, while this person-thing-whatever had managed to casually slip in and make himself at home.
"I'm a literal god. It's not surprising that things come far more naturally to me." Potter said unhelpfully, shrugging his shoulders. Tom scowled at him in turn, wondering if he had somehow spoken aloud.
"No, but we're in your mind and I can quite clearly hear your thoughts; it's plain old rude to call someone an idiot, by the way."
Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.
"Stop doing that and talk to me already, you tosser."
No.
"This is getting frustrating and childish. Can we just get back to the topic at hand?"
Fine.
"Verbal responses, Riddle."
"Fine." He grit his teeth.
"Oh good, you're finally feeling cooperative! Now, back to my main point: I came here to destroy the bond that tethered you to a prophecy that would eventually be made about you in this timeline if I didn't interfere. Now, you made the whole process actually possible by choosing to allow me to meddle with your mind and connect it to a realm where I am corporeal and can use my powers as I want along with denying Fate when they called to you, so thanks for that," Potter rubbed the back of his neck, a look of relief on his face.
"I thought it was going to be much harder than this to be honest; but then again, your magic was pretty permissive and seemed to recognize mine. Probably a byproduct of all of those timelines where we shared a soul..." He rambled on, and Tom perked up, wondering exactly how he'd ended up sharing a soul with a god.
"Do you want me to answer that question or should I pretend I didn't hear it?"
"Later. I'd rather you continue with what you were saying before you started to ramble."
Harry rubbed his chin, trying to remember where he left off.
"Oh! Right, well, that prophecy usually leads to terrible results, like the world being destroyed by overzealous maniacs or the muggles finding out about magic and bombing everything into submission and cleaning the earth in their own special way."
"What is that prophecy anyway?" Tom weaseled in, his curiosity rearing its head again.
"Well, I'm not actually sure anymore. It's been a long time since I've heard it and I usually don't make it this far with your other incarnations."
"Are you even useful for anything at all?!"
"I freed you from massacring your soul and the entire Earth. As a byproduct, I've had to repeatedly live through these encounters far too many times now and you should be far more grateful to have my assistance."
"So what you're basically saying is that you've had to replay these events over and over again across different timelines because you're incredibly incompetent?"
"When you put it that way it sounds so ugly, Riddle. Just appreciate my efforts here."
"I refuse."
"Well at least your stubbornness never changes. That's something I can always count on."
"Frankly, I've grown tired of your voice. Can I please just go back to my blissful cold slumber?" A yawn forced its way out of Tom's mouth and his eyes began to droop.
"Riddle, if you go now I ultimately will have to follow you back to your realm and guide you properly through this timeline."
"Yes, yes, fine, fine. I don't care, I just-just wanna go to sleep." Tom slumped onto the ground, his skin rapidly paling.
Potter looked around at those words and a panicked expression showed up on his face.
"SHIT. I kept you here too long; the realm is absorbing your mind. I'm going to send you back now. Just hold on a little longer."
Tom felt chilly hands touch his back and he was suddenly face down in the snow, as the hands seemed to be trying to push him through the ground itself.
It was horrible and awful and terri-
He woke up, in his bed, the darkness and cold that had previously surrounded him dissipating. With a start he realized that he felt like a train had run him over, once again, and he felt more tired than when he had first gone to bed.
Took a quick peek to the nearby and it seemed to still just be settling into dusk, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
He was going to have a lot of things to deal with tomorrow and he certainly didn't intend to do so with barely a wink of sleep in his system.
With a yawn, he curled under his blanket and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
As his body stilled in its slumber, a pair of bright green eyes stared at him from the darkness.
"Sleep well, Riddle," he said, quickly checking the other's vital signs and then disappearing back into the shadows.
So, what did you guys think? I wasn't super satisfied with this chapter to be honest, but if I didn't release it into the wild world of Fanfiction soon, I probably never would. It'll also be more humorous as we go on; I got too caught up in serious info vibe to be funny. OTL
