Disclaimer: I am getting tired of posting this. No, I don't and can't and never own HP, even if I wanted to.
A/N: The holidays are over and soon, I have to get back to school. The probability of updating is very, very low since I am very, very busy and sophomore year is the most loaded subject in all year levels. Reviews, please? I would love to hear what you think. =)
Meanwhile, as Lord Voldemort was away from the crowds, who were being led back to their own Houses, he removed his hood, thus revealing his original human form as he hurried toward the Hospital Wing with the young man's broken figure levitated beside him and Severus behind him.
He flung the doors wandlessly as he reached the Hospital Wing and dashed at the threshold.
"Xiamara, Xiamara!" He yelled and his voice echoed throughout the empty Hopsital Wing as he gently placed the injured young man on the nearest bed.
A healerin her thirties came rushing from the bowels of the Hospital Wing to its threshold with a fierce scowl in her face but as she saw none other than Tom Riddle standing beside a bed with a bloodied figure in dirty white robes, her medical training kicked in and hurried to the bedside.
"Go...sit somewhere!" She commanded to the panicked looking Dark Lord and to a shocked Severus Snape and the two men abided by the orders of the mediwitch and sat at nearby couches.
While the mediwitch was doing her job, the Dark Lord was pacing and fidgeting and shaking all at the same time, while Severus looked as if he had seen a ghost, he was paler than he could be and recounted everything that happened today:
First a Quidditch Championship between his House and Charlie Weasley's house, and the Dark Lord had really showed up then all of a sudden, someone came falling from the sky and it was the young man the Dark Lord has been dreaming about since the last ten years! It was his first time after a very long time since he saw the Dark Lord tremble and worried, whoever this man is, and he is something they never expected.
"My Lord, Severus, this young man around the age of sixteen have been diagnosed of severe magical exhaustion, it seems like his magic was sapped by something, and then he have broken a lot of bones and cracked his skull and the alarming thing is, he lost a lot of blood and when he fell to the ground, apparently, it worsened."
"Will he live, Xiamara?" Tom asked, teal eyes showing slight fear, worry and a glimmer of desperateness at the same time and Xiamara, the mediwitch was very startled.
"Yes, he will. He barely survived, my lord that's why he relapsed in a comatose state."
Tom Riddle looked tired and he slumped – gracefully - in the conjured comfy couch on the bedside of the young man. At least, he lives. Was the thought of the Dark Lord as he stapled a gaze to the mediwitch, who managed to cringe a bit at those unnerving crimson eyes.
"When will he wake up?" Tom demanded the mediwitch.
Xiamara has been Lord Voldemort's personal healer for a very long time, even before the war. Never did she saw concern on the Dark Lord that he is showing now. The worry and concern that was laced in the Dark Lord's tone was a big surprise for her, who is this young man that made the Dark Lord worry?
"My Lord...I am sorry to tell you that it is up to him." Xiamara said gravely as she gestured to the frail young man, normal bright violet eyes dimming.
Tom sighed and buried his face in his hands. He saved the young man but barely. He can't bear to lose the young man... for real. At least in dreams he knows it is somehow unreal but if the young man dies in his hands...he stopped that trail of thought.
As a Dark Lord, He have killed thousands and thousands of men without him sparing a look as he killed them, but in this young man, he feels this overwhelming feeling of protectiveness, he doesn't know why, but ever since those dreams, ten years ago, he have felt a stirring in his soul when he is close to this young man.
"Xi... please do anything you can and let this young man wake up." Tom said almost in a whisper of plea
"Yes, My Lord. I will do my best as always." Xiamara answered with a bow shell-shocked in hearing the nickname the Lord have given her years before.
"Severus, help Xiamara with the potions if ever there is a need. I want the best, Severus." Tom commanded as he turned to look at the still-shocked potions master.
"Yes, My Lord."
With a dismissive motion, the Mediwitch and the Potions Master bowed to the knee and left the Dark Lord and the young man.
Tom turned his attention to the young man, he looked at the face of the young man, he was pale, his eyes have dark violet rings underneath, his cheeks were sinking and his lips were light blue, his straight raven black hair reaching his shoulders and his hands were crossed at his chest, his fingers were long and tapered. What shocked Tom was that, he was wearing the same robes in his dream seven years ago with a few changes: white silk robe with a white turtle neck, white cloak with a hood with white fur on the hemline and around the cowl and was held by an unusual clasp: a phoenix snuggled with a basilisk.
Tom leaned back on his chair and sighed, this is going to be a long day.
Completely AU as I said. The time travel concept is nearly coming, brace your selves, people.
Cythrel's Scythe