me nunquam obliturum
.
.
When Dolohov closed the door behind himself, Tom took a deep breath, still not quite believing that it had worked. The wizard had absolutely no idea of where the idea of the man's sister appeared from, nor did he know how the hell the other had obeyed him so quickly. 'He knew me before Voldemort appeared,' he thought, pushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead, savouring the way the name sounded in his head. 'And I must have known him before I created the locket.'
Looking around, the boy felt his stomach turn with anxiety. He had just asked Dolohov to look for the others and find a way for them to escape, and was now counting on his luck not to have the Death Eater turning him in to the mad Lestrange woman or someone else. But, no, Antonin Dolohov was not going to do anything against him, he could see it in his eyes. Now, if Dolohov would manage to find the others and take them out of that manor… That was a completely different story.
"You always had a way with words." Riddle jumped, startled, as he heard someone talking to him. Turning his head from side to side and not seeing anyone around, it took him a few seconds before he raised his eyes to look at the frame above the mantelpiece. As he had suspected, during his talk with Dolohov, the painting's inhabitant had came back and was now occupied looking down at him. "And I was always so jealous of this." The man in the portrait looked a little older than him, maybe in his mid-twenties, had blond hair, blue eyes, wore expensive-looking clothes – Tom would have to sell his own soul in order to buy a coat made with such a rich fabric – and had a roguish smile tugging on the corner of his lips. "But I thought old Dolohov would not fall for it this time… Well, until you mentioned his darling Tanya. You are a hell of a lucky bastard. By the way, what, by the pants of Merlin, did you do to yourself this time?"
"I beg your pardon…?" The man's smile trembled and he furrowed his brows as he watched the other take a step back.
"You don't remember me," whispered the portrait before shaking his head and laughing, quietly. "You scoundrel, you made me the favour of forgetting about me!"
"Look, I'm sorry if I… Forgot about you, but right now is not the best time for you to scorn on me because of that, all right?" Tom looked around once again. He had to find a way to make that painting shut up, otherwise someone else could hear him and his silly, loud remarks.
"I wonder what did you do this time," the man pondered, scratching his chin and cocking his head. "I bet that fucked up version of you messed up another spell…"
"Are portraits supposed to swear so much?" grunted Riddle, rolling his eyes.
"No, just the ones that depict sailors on them." The blond winked and laughed.
"You are far too posh to be a sailor."
"Then I'm a captain." The man grinned and Tom sighed. "You know I'm a captain, Tom. Captain Brax."
The boy turned to look at the portrait again. Captain Brax. That did sound familiar, way too familiar, and, as if that little nickname had managed to yank something from deep down in his mind. Laughter and jokes and loyalty and books and…
"Abraxas."
"I knew you couldn't just forget me." The smile appeared again on the man's lips. "You can't simply forget Abraxas Malfoy like that. Now, if you don't mind me giving you an advice, I would be careful with Dolohov. The man is a brute, you know that, and, even if he has all this loyalty thing going on, he can still toss you out of a building if you mention his sister once again."
"You know about his sister…"
"Of course I do, you idiot. I told you about her, remember? Oh…" Abraxas shrugged. "Anyway, he must be sneaking around my house now, trying to find whoever you want him to find without my son and his family noticing."
"Your son…?" asked Tom while the face of that pale-faced, blond haired man who stood so weakly behind Lestrange came back to his mind. "He's a Death Eater, isn't he? Are you a Death Eater?"
"Yes, Lucius is a Death Eater. Now, about me…First of all, I can't be a Death Eater because I am dead," whispered Malfoy. "But no, I was never a Death Eater."
"But you know me!" That was horribly confusing. That man surely knew him from before – even if he didn't really know if he could consider existing a before-Voldemort-Tom and an after-Voldemort-Tom –, like Dolohov, but he was acting as if he knew nothing about who he really was. And he knew, of course, that he was Voldemort. "Your son serves the Dark Lord and, I'm sorry, but you do look like the kind of person who would…"
"I was a Knight of Walpurgis," said Abraxas, puffing his chest. "As your memory seems to be damaged, my friend, let me remind you that we used to be your sponsors or something like that. We did not go around torturing people like dear Bella does… Well, unless we're talking about Avery and Lestrange. They were never quite right in the head, those two."
"You're still loyal to him." Tom eyed the fire lit in the fireplace. He could manage to throw the portrait in it with wandless magic. He couldn't risk having that wizard going around telling the other inhabitants of the house about what Dolohov was doing under his commands.
"I swear that if you try to put me in the fire I'll make my poor soul come back after you, Tom Riddle." Malfoy narrowed his eyes, looking down on him. "You should calm down. You always stressed your nerves too much."
"I think I'm allowed to be nervous right now," said Tom. "It's not you who is in danger of falling in the hands of that woman…"
"Now that you put it like that… Yes, I think I would be worried too if I had Bellatrix wanting my head. And not only her, right? If You-Know-Who discovers about you, you are lost, my friend."
"He's me and I'm him, I don't know if…"
"The little talk you gave Dolohov is true, even if you just came up with that to make him help you," explained Abraxas. "The Dark Lord that has been living here for the past few months wouldn't think twice before killing you. You would be a competitor in his eyes. You're not a past version of himself that he simply can't kill if he doesn't want to die; you're just a… Let me guess, a spell gone wrong or something like that. Not to mention you blackmailed his Death Eater into helping you to escape from him…" The man wrinkled his nose. "So, the best thing for you to do is really to run away from him as soon as old Antonin comes back. The little trick you did, mentioning Tanya, will make him obey you all the way, believe me. The man I oversensitive when we talk about that girl."
Riddle stared at the portrait for a few minutes, without speaking. First Dolohov and now Abraxas Malfoy… Who would be the next to take his side instead of his older self? That worried him a little. If Voldemort was so loved by his loyal Death Eaters, why two of them had already skipped to his side?
"I've known you for a long time, Tom." Abraxas' voice pulled him from his thoughts, making him raise his head once again to look at the picture. "Dolohov met the young, intelligent and determined Tom Riddle with nice ideas that would help him to get back on the Muggles who took his sister away from him, and that was already enough to make him turn away from Vol-You-Know-Who tonight and help you. But I met you when you were that surly eleven-year-old that would never flash a smile to anyone at Hogwarts… Unless it was a teacher, you were always adorable towards teachers. And, all right, I'm a Malfoy, a Pure-blooded bastard who enjoys pretty things and likes to exhibit how important his family is, but you were my friend. My best friend was a half-blood with serious self-confidence issues… But still, he was my friend, right? I still considered you my friend even after you did that to yourself but…" Malfoy shook his head, laughing. "You are too complicated! You make me tangle myself in my thoughts, you bastard!" The wizard lowered his head, hiding his face into his hands while he calmed himself down. "I believe what I want to say is that I'm not giving you in to the Dark Lord because he's a fucked up version of you and you… You at least look like the Tom I met at Hogwarts. At least you have a nose."
"You're odd."
"I just said something really emotive and friendly to you and you come up with 'you're odd'!?" Abraxas rolled his eyes. "You're still the same insensitive bastard from Hogwarts."
"But you are, Abraxas," said Tom, surprised to how familiar the other's name sounded once he said it. "So, what do I do now? Sit and wait for Dolohov?"
"That was your initial plan, wasn't it?"
"But he's taking too long!"
"Calm down, Tommy." Abraxas laughed. "Antonin must be trying his best to pass by unnoticed by the others. It's a bit difficult for him, being the big guy he is-" The man stopped midsentence and grinned, as if remembering something really important. "Do you have a wand?"
"What?"
"A wand! Do you have one?"
"The snatchers took mine back in the forest…"
"Well, well, well, then you'll have one!" Abraxas' grin widened as he pointed to the huge wooden desk that was in front of the large window that would have given them a view of the gardens had the curtains been opened. "You-Know-Who decided to use my son's wand a few months ago thanks to the fact his own wand seemed to freak out when it was put against the Potter boy's. Since then, he decided to carry Lucius' only, just in case he found Potter on his way – although I don't think Dorea's grandson would be so stupid to pop up in front of him -… Well, in the first drawer there is a box. He enchanted it so no one besides him would be able to open it but as you are him." Malfoy gave him a wink. "I don't see how it could hurt anyone."
"You are giving me his wand?" asked Tom, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm giving his wand to himself." The man shrugged. "It's a good wand and it's silly of him to toss it aside and go around the world after that stupid unbeatable wand… I told him: 'Tom, this thing is a fairytale invention! Even if the Elder Wand exists, you know better than anyone that it's the wizard who holds most of the power!' … Old Riddle simply told me not to call him by his 'filthy Muggle father's name' and to shut up because I'm just a portrait and I know nothing of the world. Although I should not be so hard on him. He already trusted me to look after it… Or maybe he just put it in this room because no one ever enters my old study."
Riddle approached the desk, opening the drawer Malfoy had indicated and finding a dark, wooden box in it. There was nothing especial about the object: no ornament, no lock, nothing; and Tom was surprised when he didn't have to do anything more than lift the lid in order to open it. There was a pale wand lying in it. The wood was way paler than Bathilda's and its handle was sculpted in a way that it looked like a bone. Letting his fingers curl around it, the wizard smiled as he felt how right it felt to hold it. The wand was light and easy to handle, almost as if it had been made exclusively for his fingers.
"Don't tell him I told you where it was," said Abraxas, finally catching Tom's attention once again. "He'll most likely not even notice it disappeared, though. By now, he must have reached the Elder Wand already."
"Thank you," whispered Riddle, closing the box and putting it away in the drawer once again. "Bathilda's wand was good but this one is… I don't know…"
"It's your wand. Of course it'll feel better for you to use it." Malfoy smiled. "Now, you better be ready for when Dolohov come back…"
"He is taking too long."
"As I said before: patience, my dear friend."
"As I said before: it's a bit difficult for me to stay calm in this situation," said Tom. "I may be here, having a nice chat with you, but Potter and Weasley are down in the dungeons and Hermione is… Hermione is with Lestrange."
"Hermione?" asked Abraxas, furrowing his brows and pursing his lips. "Would that, by any chance, be a girl called Hermione Granger?"
"Yes," answered Tom, slowly. "Why?"
"Hermione Granger is in my house!" The wizard laughed, covering his eyes with his hand. "The Hermione Granger!"
"You know her?"
"I've heard about her so many times! You see, when you are a portrait that can walk around the paintings in the house, you hear almost everything people say," explained Abraxas. "Especially all the complaints my grandson makes. This Hermione Granger is famous around here. Draco is always talking about her and about how much of an insufferable know-it-all she is… I must say, the way he talks about her reminds me of how Avery used to talk about you. The only other person he mentions more than her is the Potter boy. Saint Potter, as he says." Malfoy let one last, soft chuckle escape from his lips before looking down to the other again. "But you are worried about her... She's with Bella-"
The portrait was interrupted when the office's door was opened once again. Dolohov stormed in, breathing heavily, before looking at Riddle and, then, at Abraxas, who simply waved to him.
"On the gardens there is a spot for Apparition," said Dolohov, his accent being more evident now that he was nervous. "We have a few minutes to get there. Hell is breaking loose inside that drawing room…"
"But Hermione…"
"Hermione is already out of this place," whispered Antonin, stressing the girl's name. "A house-elf appeared and took her and the two boys away. Bellatrix is destroying everything down there; it's a good chance for you to escape. Come on."
Dolohov grabbed Tom's wrist and pulled him towards the door. The younger wizard glanced over to the portrait one last time and saw Malfoy smiling and saying something. He was too busy trying to keep up with Antonin's pace to understand what the painting had said.
"A house-elf?" asked Riddle, not sure if he should believe in the other man's story.
"Yes, a house-elf. I managed to hear one of the kids telling him to take them to a 'Shell's Cottage'. That's where I'm taking you." Dolohov reached what seemed to be the door to a veranda, opened it and pushed the boy outside. "The fault to all of this will fall onto Greyback. I stunned him, my lord, and made him believe it was you. When he wakes up, he'll think he let you escape. Here."
They were now standing behind a rose bush, behind which a white peacock was scratching the ground with its beak. He didn't remember Abraxas Malfoy very well and had just met his portrait, but that animal seemed to be something he would put in his garden. Riddle could hear the faint screams coming from inside the house and panic started to crawl up his insides when he noticed the shouts were getting closer and closer. Bellatrix was coming after him.
Before he could even ask if Dolohov knew where that place, that Shell's Cottage, was, the man's grip on his wrist tightened and the world around them started to spin, only to become focused again a few moments later, when a clear beach appeared into his sight. Not too far away from where they stood, there was a little house. That must have been Shell's Cottage.
"Thank you, Dolohov." Riddle finally freed himself from the man's grip, taking a deep breath while his fingers tightened around the new wand.
"My lord," whispered Antonin, putting his hand into his robes' pocket. "Greyback had this with him. He was talking about how Scabior got it from you." The man withdrew his hand, showing him the small music box Tom had picked from his father's house. Amidst the chaos in the forest, the wizard hadn't even noticed that one of the Snatchers had taken it from his pocket. The younger wizard grabbed the box and put it away in his pocket, taking a moment to feel, with the tip of his fingers, that the photographs he had taken from Little Hangleton were still there.
Riddle looked up to Dolohov as he tried to figure out what to do now. The man couldn't go back to the Malfoy Manor remembering where he had taken him. Although Tom could see the loyalty in the wizard's eyes, he couldn't risk it, but he also couldn't risk erasing from Antonin's mind the fact he had helped him to get away from the Manor, after all, who knew when was the next time that loyalty would be of use?
"My lord?" whispered Dolohov, watching as the younger man tightened his grip on his wand.
"I'm really grateful for your help, Dolohov," said Riddle, letting a smile appear on his lips. "But this is necessary. I hope you understand."
The man's brows furrowed in confusion right before Tom muttered a quick 'Obliviate', focusing only on the memory of their destination and not on the memories about Dolohov helping him. Antonin's eyes became blank and his face relaxed in some kind of bliss, an effect of the temporary ignorance caused by the spell. Before he could make out where they were, Riddle pointed his wand at him once again.
"Imperius." The curse felt natural on his tongue, just like the feeling of controlling someone else's will. "Apparate back to Malfoy Manor and do whatever you were going to do to keep the others from finding out where we are."
Without questioning, Dolohov nodded and turned on his heels, disappearing from his sight with a loud 'crack'.
A/N: After a long time, here is chapter eleven. It took me a while because it was the end of the semester and I had all these tests going on. But, anyway, here it is. Thank you so much for everyone who left reviews on the previous chapters! You guys are amazing. I hope you liked this one and I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. Feel free to say what you thought of it. (:
