Title: Darkest Hour
Pairings: Tom Riddle/Harry Potter
Rating: R for now, it will go up later
Disclaimer: Not mine now, wasn't mine then, will never be mine in the future.
Summary: Young Harry Potter was your average normal young boy living your average normal childish life. He was unfortunately, too average and too normal. Struggling to prove his worth under the shameful cloud of being a squib, Harry forges a dark, dangerous friendship with the only person who seems to understand him.
--------- -- page break/scene change
::meow:: -- Parselmouth
meow -- thoughts
Darkest Hour
When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, it was to the sight of his mother perched on his bed next to him, nimble fingers running through his hair. He remained silent as he stared up into matching green eyes, waiting for Lily to speak first.
"Good morning, Harry," she said softly, a tentative smile wavering on her lips.
Once more Harry said not a word. He had a sinking feeling as to why his mother was at his bedside today and he really didn't want to deal with any of it.
"Harry, I'm here to talk about what happened the other day," Lily confirmed his suspicions, the hand that had been combing back his hair retreating to her lap. "I need to know why you did what you did against Dudley and Vernon."
Narrowing his eyes, Harry scowled at his mother before rolling away onto his stomach and burying his head under mounds of pillows. "I didn't do anything!" a muffled voice rang out.
"Now Harry, that isn't what Petunia and Vernon told your father and I. Harry, why would you ever shove Dudley into a snake's den like that?!"
Harry reared up, emerald eyes flashing with indignation. "I didn't shove Dudley into the pen!" he hissed.
"Then how do you explain Dudley being inside, Harry? How do you explain Dudley being trapped in there?"
Harry flopped back down on his stomach and turned his head away, staring blindly at the wall. "I . . . can't," he answered. "But there was no sign saying that the pen was going to be cleaned! And I didn't hit Uncle Vernon. Not once!"
Lily sighed and shook her head, her mind confused. "Harry, you know that's not what they said," she replied softly.
"Then they're liars!" Harry shouted, his fists clenching the fabric tightly. "They're liars because that's not what happened at all!"
"Harry Potter, how dare you speak to me like that!" Lily exclaimed. "Petunia is my sister, young man. Yes, she can be cold and cruel, but she is family. All that I have left. I will not have you speaking so ill of her!"
"But I didn't do anything! I don't know how that glass disappeared, truly! One minute it was there, and the next it was gone! Like . . . like magic!"
Lily gazed skeptically at Harry. "Honestly, Harry," she admonished. "No magic was used in that exhibit. None at all."
"How do you know that for sure?" Harry demanded, turning his head back around to stare at his mother.
"Because every wizard and witch that coincidentally was there all agreed to give up their wands for testing. Not a single vanishing spell was used by any of those wands, Harry. So no wizard, witch, or magically being had any part in today's occurrence."
Harry narrowed his eyes, teeth biting his bottom lip as his thoughts raced. "What about wandless magic?" he questioned. "What then?"
Concern grew inside Lily at Harry's continued insistence. Why was he denying everything so much? Why this insistence on magic? What was going on in his head? Lily just didn't know anymore. She didn't seem to know . . . her own son.
"Harry," she began slowly. "It takes an exceptionally strong person to successfully do wandless magic. Even Albus Dumbledore, one of the greatest Light wizard there ever lived, has trouble maintaining a complicated wandless spell. No such individual was present in the sanctuary. No person powerful enough to spell that glass away and then spell it back was in attendance. And before you even ask, no wandless magic was used against Vernon. Harry, Vernon nearly suffered a heart attack yesterday. You know his heart is fragile because of his weight problems. Why would you even think to strike him on the chest is just . . . just . . . oh Harry how could you do that to your own Uncle?"
Harry growled as he pounded the mattress with his fist. "I didn't touch him," he insisted. "Did you even bother to ask witnesses what they saw? Did they tell you that he held me up by the front of my shirt and shook me? Did you hear that?"
"Which he did after you had shoved Dudley into that pen, saying that it was empty for cleaning when it wasn't. There was a live python in that pen and when it escaped leaving Dudley inside, Vernon merely reacted instinctively. For you to hit him with your fists is just cruel, Harry. I won't stand that treatment against family members."
"They never treated us like family," the young boy groused.
"That's enough, young man. I don't want to hear another word out of you and that's final." Lily's voice and her eyes grew stern as she looked down on her child. "Petunia is downstairs in the living room. Vernon is at home with Dudley recovering or else they would be here as well. You will apologize to your aunt for you malicious behavior yesterday, do I make myself clear?"
Harry nodded stiffly, staying silent until Lily left the room. With a deep groan he closed his eyes, his thoughts racing a mile a minute.
Never fear, Harry, Tom's crooning voice whispered through his mind. I'm here for you.
I know you are, Harry replied gratefully. He grudgingly got up, going through the motions of cleaning and dressing himself mechanically. As he trudged downstairs, he stopped to stare at his seated aunt, feeling her beady blank eyes glaring daggers at him.
Lily sat up from her seat near the fireplace. "I'll be in the kitchen, preparing some tea," she said, bidding a hasty retreat.
Harry remained where he was, eyes boring into the woman that was related to him by blood. He couldn't understand why she would lie so horrendously about what happened. Did she hate him that much? What did he do to deserve such harsh emotion? Harry wanted answers and he wanted them now.
"Why?" he blurted out. "Why did you lie? You know what really happened. You know the truth. So why lie?"
Petunia sniffed, nose raised haughtily in the air. "Because you're a freak, just like your mother," she spat out. "Did you honestly believe we'd tell the truth? That you somehow spelled that glass away and then attacked Vernon with your magic? You would have been praised if we had."
Harry opened his mouth to once again argue that he had not touched Vernon in such a manner. Whether or not it was his fault for the glass disappearing, he really didn't know. Mother had said that it took an exceedingly strong magical person to carry out a wandless spell. He had just barely unlocked his second door, so it couldn't possibly be him, right?
"No, no, we had to make sure a disgusting boy like you received your just dessert," Petunia continued. "We knew if we had said you used magic nothing would happen. Nothing bad. You'd be praised, you'd be complimented. So we told things in a different light. One that would ensure you would be properly punished like the freak you are!"
"Why do you hate magic so much?" Harry questioned curiously. "Why do you call me a freak?"
"Because you're unatural," Petunia sneered. "It's not normal at all to wave around a stick and have things happen. I see magic for what it really is. A bunch of nonsense! But no, it's wonderful to Lily. It was wonderful to our parents. It was amazing that one of their daughters could do something so astounding with a bit of mumbled words and sentences. What rubbish! I see Lily as a freak. Her husband is a freak. And now you. You're no better then they are! A freak child!"
What a spiteful muggle! Tom hissed venomously. She doesn't deserve a quick and painless death! She deserves hours of agonizing torture! How dare she speak to you in such a manner!
No, Tom, the young boy pleaded. Don't . . .
Harry took deep breaths, almost gasping for air, lungs seemingly starved of oxygen. A part of him was taken back at the venomous hatred his Aunt Petunia felt towards magic. But what was worse was another part of him that completely understood Petunia's feelings. In a moment of insight, far more reaching then a normal six year old should have had, Harry could see himself feeling the same emotions. If Lily and James had had another child, one that did magic from the very beginning, Harry could envision their love and devotion be showered on that gifted child. The child that he should have been from the start. He could comprehend the jealousy, the resentment that Petunia surely had felt growing up under the shadow of her magical sister. He could see how the one simple gift, bestowed upon Lily and denied to Petunia, could have turned a carefree child into a bitter adult.
In Harry's eyes, if it wasn't for Tom and his interference in his life, he was staring at the person he would have grown up to be in twenty years.
Harry . . . Tom whispered softly, feeling the loneliness and sorrow.
I could have been her, Tom, Harry replied. I could have been her as an adult. I . . . can't hate her for how she feels about magic, after she's lived her entire life deprived of such a gift.
Helga Hufflepuff was right in calling you an exceptionally gifted and compassionate soul, Harry Potter, said Tom. Only you could ever forgive such a tainted soul as Petunia Dursley. I, on the other hand, know no such emotion.
Well then, it's a good thing I'm here, right? Harry tried to tease. I have enough compassion for the both of us.
Tom's warm chuckled echoed inside Harry's mind. He turned his attention back to Petunia, seeing passed her cold demeanor and viewing the fragile human that had desired unconditional love and equal acceptance from her parents and was never given them.
"For what it's worth," Harry spoke softly, "I'm sorry."
Petunia sniffed again, although this time with a little less emphasis. For a moment, something had flashed in her tiny nephew's eyes. Something unworldly and ancient. For just a brief moment, Petunia felt as if all her walls and barriers had been laid bare and her very soul displayed to a child much too mature for his age.
"I'll be taking my leave now," she stated, rising to her feet and sailing to the door. "I'll say goodbye to Lily before I go."
Harry tipped his head forward, a slight bow to the woman.
I still believe she deserves some amount of pain, Tom stated sardonically.
Oh? Harry chuckled as he slowly made his way back up to his room, the soft sounds of feminine voices rising from the kitchen.
Yes. I know this marvelous spell that dishes out mass quantities of pain and suffering. It's one of my favorite, if I do say so myself.
Oh dear. And what is this horrendously painful spell you wish to unleash onto my Aunt?
It's called The Cruciatus Spell, Harry my boy. Doesn't that name itself sound positively wicked?
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Author's Notes:
Really bloody short. I might add more to this chapter later on, but for now I just had to get it out before I move on April 9th. Arizona here I come! Wheeeeeee.
Totally unrelated, but I saw this gigantically huge stuffed bunny in Walmart today. It was a promotion for Easter, of course. The damn thing was colossal, almost like a full body pillow. I wanted to buy it so bad but I was torn.
It came in either Slytherin Green or Ravenclaw Blue.
Damn those makers. I'm a Slytherin at heart, but judging by my academic scores and my wall to wall bookcases, I'm a Ravenclaw in hiding. Plus, blue has always been a favorite color of mine. Damn them. Damn them all! Q('-'Q)
