Bold- Letter
Itcalics-Thoughts
•••-Flashback
-Parseltongue
Harry stared at the blank parchment, his hand quivering slightly. It was a rather warm night in July, and the savior of the wizarding world had many things to think over. He was terrified. But tired. He wanted all the pain to just be gone. No more sacrifice, no more heartache. A nagging voice in his head reminded him of why all said things were happening. He's the only one who could stop Voldemort, the one destined to. Bloody rubbish, Harry thought. Voldemort was coming to power, and a sixteen year old boy couldn't stop him. Which was why Harry was currently mulling over how to write a letter to the Dark Lord, stating his defeat. A blot of ink had already fallen onto the paper. It was smudged, as Harry had tried to hurriedly wipe it away before it could soak into the paper.
Dear Voldemort,
Or whatever you'd like me to call you. I write to you, quite stupidly, if I might add, to tell you my whereabouts. I am living with my muggle relatives, quite the nasty folks they are.
Harry thought about the last part of the sentence he had just written, before deciding it wouldn't be a good idea to keep it. He scratched it out, not wanting to end up whining about his muggle relatives to the Dark Lord. Harry snorted, shaking his head. That would be something amusing. Voldemort would rather Avada Kedavra him than listen to his relative problems. The boy continued, not wanting to mull on one sentence for too long.
We are located at Little Whinning, Number Four Privet Drive. This won't be of much use to you, considering you cannot reach me here whilst my family is within the house. A barrier prevents it, the love of my mother runs through my muggle Aunt's blood. But I will inform you, my guardians will be gone between 3PM and 8Pm tomorrow, July 12. I am tired of fighting, tired of sacrificing. Do with this information what you will.
Harry Potter
The boy was tired, and rightfully so. He had worked all day-cleaned, weeded, cooked. Not to mention the beating he had been given last week was still affecting him. It had left him sore in all the small places that prohibited quick and sturdy movements. His body was exhausted, but he relented. He would only have a few moments now to send Hedwig off, before Vernon came up to check and see if their freak was staying out of trouble. Harry let the owl out of her cage, and she hooted softly. Hedwig's wings ruffled before stretching, happy to be free from the confinements of her cage. The familiar nipped and tugged at Harry's hair in a loving, yet condescending way. It was the bird's way of speaking to her master. The boy chuckled softly, a tear slipping from under his glasses. The salty liquid left a trail on Harry's cheek, the faint light from his near broken lamp catching the tear drop and making it shine. Hedwig nudged the wet cheek, wanting to comfort the upset boy. He sniffled, hurriedly wiping the stray tear away.
"Shh, girl. I know, I'm sorry you've been locked up so long. P-Please, take this to Lord Voldemort." He murmured, his voice cracking.
He really was going through with this.
He really was giving up.
Sirius had been his last string of hope, his newfound courage. All that swept away with the gruff man as he fell through the veil. The owl hooted unsurely for a moment before nuzzling her companion's cheek and taking the letter in her beak. Harry slid open the window, the humid wind brushing along his cheek and blowing a stray strand of hair into his face. Harry brushed it back, petting the owl fondly before shooing her off with a sad smile. Hedwig flew out into the warm night, just as Harry's door flew open. There his uncle was, the calmest he'd seen him in a while. That changed as the scene before him registered. The boy next to the open window, the bird missing from its cage. Parchment, quill, and ink still set out on the small table against the wall.
"Boy!" Vernon roared, and Harry shut the window hurriedly. Panic gripped the boy by the throat, and not even a squeak slipped from Harry. The large, red faced man stomped over to the unruly haired wizard. The ground seemed to shake with the rage the large man possessed. He grabbed ahold of Harry's arm, the tight grip almost enough to make Harry wince. The boy was in shock, unable to do anything but stare blankly at the man from his nightmares. Not even Voldemort could scare him as much as this man did.
"What do you think you're doing?!" He shouted, spit flying onto Harry's cheek. Harry's green eyes dulled, as they always do during these encounters. When the thin boy didn't answer him, Vernon smacked him hard across the face. Blood rushed to Harry's face as the stinging prolonged, from embarrassment and pain.
If only he had gotten to his wand in time.
If only he could use magic outside of school.
"I told you, you couldn't send out any letters without permission! Now you're going to pay, you freak!" He growled, his face seeming to turn purple. It always did so when Vernon was in his most irritable mood, when his anger was at its worst. That was what brought Harry out of his daze. The panic that had gripped his threat suddenly clawed its way out, and Harry found his voice once more.
"N-No! Stop!" He pleaded, trying to squirm out of the tight grip on his arm. Despite his struggles, the large buffalo of a man managed to drag Harry into the basement, causing the young male's heart rate to increase. He didn't want to go back down there, didn't want to be chained up again. The beatings were manageable when Vernon was simply aggravated, but now he was furious. Harry struggled to recover from these beatings.
"No!" Harry shouted, and a burst of accidental magic swept through the basement. It threw Vernon back into the nearest wall, effectively knocking him out. Harry flew back, a groan escaping his mouth as he hit the wall opposite the one his uncle now slumped against. He was at a daze, but soon it was overcome as he felt a pain erupting within his skull. Harry's eyes screwed shut, and he felt himself change. It was sudden, but painful. His body seemed to rip apart, only to be tied back together piece by piece. Blackness slipped over his mind, his body unable to handle the pain.
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Voldemort was pacing back and forth within his office in the Gaunt Manor. If anyone were to accuse him of pacing, they'd face an extremely painful Crucio. The man was no longer insane and irrational, and had restored his soul. The horcruxes he ones had loved so dearly, Voldemort had happily destroyed. Well, all except Nagini of course. He had managed to discover a way to extract the piece of his soul within his familiar without killing her. He had been glad, because it would have destroyed him to have to kill Nagini, even if she would condescend him most of the time. Voldemort was no more, now it was Tom Riddle. The man looked not a day over 25, and didn't feel it either. His memories since his fifth year at Hogwarts were foggy, as if he were watching them in a pensive. They didn't feel like his own memories, and in a way, they weren't. The last clear thing he had remembered was Dumbledore. Yes, the meddling old man just couldn't leave well enough alone.
•••
"Tom?" A hushed voice called out, the undertone of it laced with malice. Yes, Tom Riddle knew exactly whose voice that was. The young wizard spun around to face his professor, a fake smile held in place. Dumbledore was walking toward the Prefect, the twinkle in his eyes gone. Tom immediately knew this would end badly, but for who was the unknown part.
"I know you're incredibly busy, my dear boy, but I would like to request you in my office for a spot of tea." He stated softly, smiling. The smile didn't seem to reach his eyes, and the offer seemed more of a threat by the tone of voice. Dumbledore obviously did not care how busy Tom was. Tom nodded, refraining from gritting his teeth. His hand discreetly shifted a tad closer to his hidden wand out of habit.
"Of course sir. Lead the way." He stated back kindly, all the while playing the part of the perfect Prefect. Dumbledore was always trying to get Tom in trouble, from day one. Always suspecting, always keeping an eye on him. That damn twinkle bothered Tom to no end, but it was always a good sign. It meant the Professor wasn't too aware of Tom's actions. The odd pair walked through the Hogwarts halls in silence, both lost in thought but not enough to be unaware of the other. Painting after painting began to notice them, and began whispering to each other. It wasn't every day you saw Tom Riddle and Albus Dumbledore walking together quietly, at least not without one visibly angry. Once they made it to the Professor's office, even the paintings were on edge. As Tom stepped into the room, he heard Albus's robes rustle. He turned to the man, only to be held at wand point.
"Professor..." He muttered, his eyes narrowing. Dumbledore was most definitely not one of the teachers here he'd like to duel, because it was obvious this man was not as frail as he looked.
"I must apologize, Mr. Riddle. It's just, you see, you're not as insane as I had predicted you would be by now. I must give you a bit of a push, before too many good people begin following the likes of you. They must see that your ideas are too extreme, that only the insane would come up with them." He tutted, causing Tom to freeze in confusion. The confusion, however, caused him many years of regret.
"Demens." The old wizard whispered, and a burst of light blue erupted from his wand. It created a hazy smoke of the same color around Tom, and in a panic the young boy inhaled the unknown substance. His eyes flickered red, and his mind grew as hazy as the room. Tom's body slumped to the ground, and his eyes fluttered shut. Dumbledore loomed above him, a small smile on his face as the maddening twinkle reappeared.
•••
"My lord?" A hesitant voice called, snapping the male out of his thoughts. He sighed, waving his follower into the room.
"Come, Lucius. I've told you, call me Tom. We were friends once, were we not? I would like to apologize for my behavior while under the influence of that strange curse, but I do fear it would be pointless. I have done too many unforgivable things while insane." He murmured, and Lucius frowned softly.
"My-Tom, I don't believe that to be true. We, as your followers and friends, were worried for you. It's nice to see you back to your former self." He stated, causing Tom to laugh softly. Before, the sound would cause a chill to run down the Malfoy Head's back. Now it was a comfort, a sign of his friend's mortality and sanity. Their time together was suddenly disrupted as a snowy owl flew to the window, landing on the window sill. It cooed, pecking on the window to get the attention of the two men within the office. Tom stood, opening the window for the small owl.
"Well aren't you a pretty owl?" He mused, petting the owl's beak as he took the letter. The owl nipped him playfully, hooting in response.
"I do believe it's Potter's owl." Lucius offered, watching as his leader fed the owl a few treats as he opened the letter. Tom read its contents once, and stared at the paper in disbelief. To make sure he read it properly, he read it again. The brown haired male sighed and shook his head.
"It seems Dumbledore has created another weapon, but this time the weapon is reaching out." He stated, humming softly in thought. By casting a quick 'Tempus', Tom discovered it was almost 3, and it was July 12. The owl must have had trouble finding him.
"My lord?" Lucius questioned, walking up to the young Tom Riddle. The male smiled at his friend, patting him on the shoulder.
"Tom, please. If you must, call me Lord in front of others. But while we're alone, just Tom please. I won't be 'Crucio'ing you for such a simple thing, not when I'm requesting it." He replied, and Lucius nodded embarrassedly.
"I'm sorry Tom, it's just hard to get used to." He admitted, causing all of Tom's guilt to rush back all at once. He sighed, folding the letter and placing it on his desk.
"Come, Lucius. We must go to Number Four Privet Drive." Was all he could muster back, walking out of his office with the snowy owl flying after him.
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When Harry woke up, he had no idea what time or day it was. He simply knew he was cold, and the world looked very different than he had remembered it. It was dark, and felt like cloth. From obvious deductions, he had realized he was underneath very large pieces of clothing. He squirmed his way out of the clothing, blinking in surprise as he observes them and realized they were his. Or rather, Dudley's old clothes.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The boy looked over to where he had expected his uncle to be, only to find he wasn't there. Harry glanced down at himself, and panic ensued. His body was longer, pale and lanky, white and scaly. He had no human qualities about him. Harry Potter had turned into a snake. The boy internally groaned, his eyes slipping closed in defeat.
Of course this would happen to him.
He reopened them as he heard movement within the house upstairs.
Someone was here.
He slithered up the stairs, finding he could do so with relative ease. Being a snake would be difficult to grow accustomed to, but at least he wasn't struggling operating his own body. Once Harry discovered the door to the basement was locked, he wanted to frown. Being a snake would be much more difficult than he had originally thought. There was no way he could open it on his own, with or without magic, as he had no hands. He was a wizard turned snake by a bout of accidental magic.
A wizard, he thought.
Maybe, just maybe it would work.
Open Harry hissed, concentrating on the door. He was surprised to watch the door open on command, and Harry slithered through the opening. As he slid into the kitchen, he was even more shocked to find a young Tom Riddle and one Lucius Malfoy within the home of Private Four Drive. Hedwig was perched on top of Riddle's shoulder, seeming content until she noticed Harry. The owl hooted, recognizing her companion even with the drastic change. She nipped playful at him, and he attempted to smile at her.
Being a snake definitely would be a challenge.
"A snake? Are you sure this is where the Potter boy had said he would be? No one is here, and all that Potter has here is his trunk." The Malfoy head stated, staring at the peculiar snake as he did so. Riddle's eyes narrowed.
"Are you suggesting I've made a mistake?" He questioned, walking to the snake and crouching down. Lucius stuttered for a moment, denying his words. Tom held up a hand, silencing his follower.
Do you belong to Harry Potter? The attractive male hissed, and Harry blinked at him slowly. He had almost forgotten about Tom's ability to speak Parseltongue.
Yes, my Master has suddenly disappeared. Will you care for me and my Master's things while he's gone? Harry hissed back, being as vague as possible. He didn't like lying, but he wasn't fond of telling Voldemort of all people the truth for now. He didn't know what had happened last night, and wasn't about to let anyone else know of his weakness until he could figure out how to reverse it. Harry blanched, realizing his Slytherin traits were coming through. Tom smirked softly, holding his hand out to let the snake climb onto his arm.
"Lucius, please gather Harry Potter's things. It seems we'll be expecting him eventually." The seeming young male murmured. Lucius nodded, staring at his lord for a moment before climbing back up the stairs to get the old trunk. Harry watched the blonde male walk up the stairs before turning back to Tom. If Harry were to go through with this, his entire reasonings for bringing the insane Dark Lord here would all be for nothing. Then again, said Dark Lord didn't look very insane at the moment. He hesitated only briefly before slipping up the male's arm, Hedwig hooting as she flew onto his shoulder once more. Harry nudged the bird, unbeknownst to him, eliciting a small smile from his new 'master'.