Where in the hell Hermione had found the bloody thing Tom neither knew (though he strongly suspected Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was involved) nor particularly cared and exactly why she'd thought it might be pertinent to cram it into her expanded beaded bag of tricks he had no idea. Either way, former Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Slytherin Phineas Nigelus Black had been neither happy nor helpful to be summoned blindfolded and threatened. All of the information he'd been willing to offer them had been tidbits they'd either already known or could have guessed. After insulting the trio enough to leave Tom sorely tempted to light the portrait on fire he'd absconded and not returned.
Left with a dead end they'd been given no other choice but to twiddle their thumbs, essentially, for the next three days before the time came where they could no longer remain in that campsite safely and had to move, settling this time atop a cliff near the sea. All chances of Ron being able to locate them if he decided to return were gone, now, and ever since Hermione had been nearly inconsolable. Touchier than usual. Leading Tom to shield himself with 'cute' by spending most of his time in fox form. Just to be sure she wouldn't suddenly snap, drag him out of the cave and hurl him off the cliff into the sea.
Ability to fly unassisted aside, that wasn't an experience he particularly wanted to go through.
It had now been a week since then and all he'd heard had been the sighing of the ocean-muted behind the powerful wards which they'd erected around their campsite to keep themselves safe from discovery-the pattering of the winter rain against the canvas roof of the tent over their heads, Hermione's sobbing and the sound of their breathing. On occasion one of them would get up and move around or Nagini would hiss something to him or Harry but even still the dark brunet felt as if he'd forgotten the fact that other sounds existed at all.
He was curled up beside Harry with his eyes closed and his head resting on his chest, body numb and limp beneath the distracted attention the raven was paying to his ears, but started when the other wizard suddenly spoke.
"What if we were wrong?"
His voice echoed through the confines of the magically extended tent, almost thunderous against the drumming of rain and waves which had by now faded into background noise. Nagini raised her head up off of her emerald coils and hissed a wordless question. Tom crossed his paws demurely over each other and tucked his tail about his body.
"Wrong?" Hermione's voice was raw and cracked from the amount of crying she'd been doing. "What do you mean, 'what if we were wrong', Harry? Wrong about what?"
"About the sword." He said. "About it being stolen. What if we were wrong? What if it wasn't stolen?"
Tom sighed and rested his head on his crossed paws.
"Do you not trust Tom now?" though aware he wasn't anything remotely close to threatening in his current form he still sent her the best glare that he could muster on account of the fact that he considered her tone to be very much uncalled for. "According to what he overheard from Dean, the Sword of Gryffindor in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts is fake. Presumably, Snape would have had a Goblin brought in to confirm the matter. Are you going to tell me you think that that Goblin was wrong?"
"No, Hermione. I'm not saying that I think that the Sword of Gryffindor at the school isn't a fake." Harry was wearing the locket again and, judging by his own tone, had taken exception to the other's tone as well. "What I am saying is that it may not have been stolen. It may have been replaced."
"By who?"
"By Dumbledore." Harry drawled. "It wouldn't be the first time that he hasn't told us everything! That he's strewn pieces of a puzzle around for us to find as if we were playing some sort of game and not dealing with a war that could cost the lives of hundreds of people! To think he even-Tom!"
The brunet had shifted back while the little raven had been distracted and, before he could act to stop him, had snagged the chain of the Horcrux with one of his fingers and flipped it over his head.
"Hey!" The raven tried to lunge for him but Tom caught both of his wrists with one of his hands and held the locket out of reach with the other.
"Enough! You've worn it for more than long enough, both of you, and you're not in any state to keep it up anymore." He said. "Listen to yourself, Precious! No matter how upset with Dumbledore you might become or how badly you might think of him I know that you'd never have said anything like that! It's obvious that the locket is affecting you far more than it should."
"Tom!"
"This isn't something that I'm going to negotiate with you!"
"You can't wear it!"
"It doesn't affect me like it does the two of you."
"You might get sick again!"
"Harry!"
"I'll switch out with Hermione instead!"
"Switch out with Hermione? Are you bloody insane? She's already acting like a harpy!"
"He's right, Harry." Between having to agree with Tom on something and offense at his comment the expression on her face was less than kind. "Only having two people wear it doesn't give us enough time to recover. And with Ron gone we don't have any choice but to let Tom have a chance."
The raven sagged slightly, turning his head far enough to send the bushy brunet a half-helpless half-betrayed look. "But-."
"Precious." The by now familiar soft tone had invaded his voice again. Releasing the little raven's wrists he rested a gentle, warm hand against his face. Cupping his jaw. "I know you're worried for me and I appreciate that, I really do, but you need to let me do something. I can't just sit around doing nothing when I'm responsible, indirectly or not, for so much."
Harry didn't say anything more than that but his glittering green eyes continued pleading with him.
"I promise that if I begin to feel even a little bit weak while wearing it I'll take it off immediately." He said. "I promise."
After a last drawn out moment the raven sighed and relaxed. "Alright." He said. "But you'd better remember that promise, Tom."
"I will." He gently ran long fingers through the smaller male's wild black hair. "You know I'd never lie to you, Precious. That I couldn't, even if I wanted to, anymore."
Hyperbolic as Harry knew the other's statement likely was, it was still a nice sentiment.
"I want to go to Godric's Hollow."
The sudden apparent digression took both Tom and Hermione to look at him with mirrored expressions of surprise. "What? Why?"
"Harry, we can't! That's-!"
"Exactly where the snake faced plonker would expect me to go, I know, but it's not just out of a desire to see my parents graves for the first time in my life." Harry said. "Where better to hide Godric Gryffindor's sword than Godric's Hollow?"
"He has a point." Tom's voice was heavily laced with reluctance as he crossed his arms over his chest. "But if we're going to do this it's not going to be tonight. Tomorrow at the earliest, so that we have time to plan. And we're going to do it the Slytherin way."
"And what, Riddle, constitutes the 'Slytherin Way'?"
"Cautiously, Ms. Granger." He growled, turning and sitting back down on the edge of the bunk. "Now it's getting late and we should be turning in for the night. Who has the first shift for guard duty?"
"I do." Hermione rose from her bunk with the rustle of sheets and tromped out of the tent. Tom sighed and, when Harry's hand landed on his wrist, looked over at him in silent question.
"Don't turn back. At least not yet." He said. "You've been in fox form for so long, only shifting back for guard duty and…I've missed you." Harry had gone slightly pink in the face. "I've missed lying down with you."
"Missed me?" the dark brunet purred, pulling the little raven tight against his chest and dropping his face into his hair. "Well, we'll have to rectify that won't we love?" Releasing Harry abruptly, he stretched out on the bed and held up the covers. "Lay with me. We have enough time between now and the next shift for us to get in a good bit of sleep and cuddling in beforehand. Let's not waste it."
Harry didn't need further encouragement and quickly curled up beside him, tangling their legs together and tucked his head under his chin. Tom raised an arm to snuff out the surrounding lanterns then draped it over the smaller male and closed his eyes. Surrounded by the warmth and shelter they'd only ever been able to find in each other the pair could almost imagine that the war had already ended.
It wasn't much later that they drifted off to sleep.
"I'll go ahead and use my Animagus form to scout the area; if I don't come back in half an hour than you'll know it's safe to come along."
"Or that you've been hurt or killed." Now it was Harry's turn to cross his arms, tapping his wand against his leg and sending sparks scattering across the frosted ground. "Bellatrix knows what your animal form looks like. What if she's one of the Death Eaters stationed there, if there are any at all. I don't like this, Tom!"
"I have to admit to agreeing with Harry, Master." Nagini hissed. "This plan doesn't seem very sound, 'Slytherin' or not."
"There isn't another choice if Harry wants to go to Godric's Hollow and visit his parents' grave." He said. "We have to make sure the area is safe somehow or we'll all but certainly be apparating straight into trouble."
"Then at least use-!" Harry began.
"If it's snowing here it's doubtlessly snowing even more closer to London and my footsteps would give me away if I were to use the invisibility cloak." Tom said. "Trust me, Precious, please. I'll be fine."
"Tom-."
"Harry," the dark brunet stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the smaller male. "You know nothing will keep me from you, don't you? I'll come back."
"You'd better." Harry huffed.
Tom chuckled, kissed him on the forehead and then stepped away. "I'll see you soon, carissimi." He spun on his heel and their camp disappeared from sight.
He reappeared in the shadow of the same cathedral he'd stood outside of that summer, staring once more at the all too familiar kissing gate of St. Jeromy's Cemetery. Snow was up to his ankles already and still falling fast, landing all around him with quiet pattering sounds. His breath rose in silver clouds which took on the myriad of brilliant colors beaming down through the beautiful painted windows of the building behind him. Recognizable chords of the hymn 'My Love is Always Here' echoed through the stone walls.
They'd lost track of time entirely while on the road and the realization that it was Christmas Eve swept over him in a tide of images of how the night should have been spent: curled up by the fire with his raven without a care in the world beyond each other.
Tom huffed and fell forward onto all fours, cautiously taking in his immediate surroundings before creeping out of his position hidden in the deep shadows. Pausing once more to listen. Nothing beyond the snow landing all around him and the music from within the church reached his ears.
His paws punched through the ice encrusted snow with quiet cracks as he trotted up to the kissing gate and pawed at it, cursing the canine's lack of apposable thumbs. At least if he'd had a snake as an animal form he could have slipped through some of the slats of the wrought iron fence, never mind the fact that he'd probably have frozen in the cold before he'd achieved anything even marginally close to being considered meaningful.
The gate clattered against the metal latch that held it closed. Growling, Tom propped himself up on his hind legs and, after a valiant effort and a great deal of uncomfortable stretching, managed to push it up with his nose.
At last the gate swung open, allowing the young Dark Wizard masquerading as a fox to proceed into the graveyard beyond.
The place had been solemn enough during the summer but now, in the cold of that lonely winter's night, it had been buried beneath a pall of silence as thick as the snow which covered everything. The gravestones seemed to stare as he moved between them, charting a meandering path between them that would ensure no one who might have been lurking nearby would suspect his destination or that he was anything more than an animal.
He waited five minutes three graves down and, once certain that no one was waiting to ambush them when the other two arrived, turned and headed towards the statue he'd seen when last he'd been there but hadn't had the chance to visit.
Tom didn't know what it would have looked like to a Muggle, a World War II memorial more than likely, but to him-to any witch or wizard-it revealed itself for what it really was. A couple sat together, smiling, atop a bench; a wizard wearing a pair of familiar spectacles-round and wire rimmed-and a witch with long hair holding a contented infant in her arms. Snow rested atop their heads like knitted caps and gathered on their shoulders like scarves.
The Potter Memorial.
Tom lowered himself onto his haunches, head low and ears turned back in a posture not unlike a dog being reprimanded after doing something it had thought would please its owner. Tucking his tail beneath him. Shivering in the snow. It couldn't be that much longer before the other two would arrive. He'd wait there.
Five minutes went by. Then ten. Tom heard something shuffle off to his right and turned his head, looking sharply through the darkness. Nothing but the offensive smell of rotting meat had begun to permeate the area.
The sound of feet breaking the snow from only a few feet behind him made the dark brunet whirl around with a snarl and a snap. Harry jerked back in alarm, green eyes wide between the same round glasses his father had worn.
"Sorry," he said, "we didn't mean to sneak up on you."
The stench had begun to fade back into the smell of snow and nighttime, but still Tom wasn't willing to shift back. Huffing softly, Tom set his paws against the raven's knee and nuzzled his hand in apology. Harry smiled, crouched down and started to scratch behind his ears. Hermione was less forgiving of his reaction though her glare seemed less sharp than usual.
"What's wrong? Why are you still in fox form?"
Shrugging as an animal was a difficult thing to do. Tom sneezed instead.
"Why'd you wait here and not at the grave?" he looked up at the statue, likely for the first time actually examining it, and his expression transformed into one of surprise. "Is that-?"
"Harry," Hermione stepped forward and gently touched his arm, "we can't hang around here all night. If we're going to visit your parents' graves we need to get moving."
Tom nudged the little raven in the leg in agreement and started back in the direction of the Potter family grave, leading the way through the forest of headstones. By the time the three of them got there the snow had finally stopped falling. The lights had gone out in the church and, in the distance, they could see the occupants beginning to leave.
Both the dark brunet and the witch showed their pace as the grave came into view, leaving Harry to proceed forward on his own. A few moments passed where the raven just stared at the grave, but then he dissolved into tears and fell to his knees in the snow.
Tom contained his false start forwards only barely but Hermione still noticed it. Thought it was obvious that he'd far from won her trust and she was still less than pleased by Harry's choice in relationship partner she still said "go" and walked off to give them a bit of privacy, Nagini presumably contained in her bag.
Lifting himself back onto two legs Tom spent a few painful moments longer watching the other wizard's shoulders hitch, then he moved forward to kneel beside him and pulled the other into his arms. Harry curled into the offered comfort immediately and, not knowing what he could possibly have said, Tom simply held him until he stopped, and even for a while after that.
They didn't break apart until Hermione reappeared, the look on her face enough to raise the hairs along the back of his neck.
"Harry, Tom, there's someone standing at the graveyard's gate." She said.
"Who?" the raven's voice was barely audible with how muffled it was by Tom's chest.
"I don't know." She said. "They're just…staring."
"Do you think they're a Death Eater?" Tom asked.
"I don't think so. They're…old. An old woman."
"An old woman was staring at you from the gate of a graveyard in the middle of the night on Christmas eve?" he said. "That's….creepy."
There wasn't any other way to describe it, really.
"We should see what she wants." Harry said. "She may be the one that Dumbledore left the sword with."
Both brunets were left united for that moment in the thought that that was an idea which could charitably be considered…less than safe. Still…
"Following a random old woman who could just as easily be Baba Yaga as a Death Eater under Polyjuice Potion is not in any way a Slytherin decision. However," Tom sighed, "Dumbledore wasn't a Slytherin and it is a very Gryffindor one. Precious is right. Has she seen all three of us, Ms. Granger, or just you?"
"Just me, I think. Why?"
"Because the element of surprise may yet still be on our side." Tom said. "Give me the invisibility cloak; it won't be much with all the snow on the ground but if she can see the two of you it's likely a third set of footprints would go unnoticed and if something goes wrong…"
He didn't need to finish what he'd been saying because Hermione had already removed the invisibility cloak and thrust it towards him. Tom disappeared beneath the silvery material and the trio began to shuffle towards the gate.
The 'old woman' was, dare he say it, less 'old' and more 'ancient'. Decrepit and bent about herself like a hollowed out tree she clutched a cane in one gnarled dragon-like claw and was draped in fabric which wouldn't have looked out of placed hung across a window as a curtain; it was about as equally caked in dust. Tom was struck with the confusing sensation that he'd seen her before, quickly followed by the realization that he remembered where: the back of his A History of Magic textbook, though she'd looked a bit younger then.
This was Bathilda Bagshot. She knew Dumbledore, didn't she? Had been one of the people Rita Skeeter had interviewed for her stupid little tabloid masquerading as a book? Maybe Harry had been right. Maybe Dumbledore had left the Sword of Gryffindor in Godric's Hollow. Maybe she did have it.
The other two seemed to recognize the woman as well because Harry said "Ms. Bagshot?" in a questioning tone. Rather than respond the aged witch simply nodded, turned, and began to shuffle down the street.
Odd.
Presumably, she expected them to follow her. Either way, that was what they did. Walking down the quiet, otherwise empty streets with Harry in front with Bathilda and Hermione and Tom a few steps behind. The raven was chatting with the old witch quietly, awkward, trying to get further information out of her without knowing exactly how best to go about it. To Hermione their words were little more than the indistinguishable hiss of whispers but to him they were so much more and it chilled Tom to the bone to realize the truth.
Parseltongue.
This wasn't Bathilda Bagshot at all.
They were walking into a trap!
Tom bit down on the swelling urge to raise the alarm; that would have been a very stupid mistake as there was no way for him to know how many of them could be lurking in the area waiting to pounce not to mention there was still the chance that the sword could be hidden somewhere in the house. Their best chance of slipping his counterpart's net with the lowest likelihood of injury would be to allow the imposter to lead them into an enclosed area. As long as he didn't allow Harry out of his sight he could contain the situation and everything would be alright.
Unseen beneath the folds of the invisibility cloak Tom drew the hornbeam wand from the sheath on his wrist.
They arrived at the property a few tense minutes later. The gate creaked as it was pulled open. Tom's heart thudded in his chest. They walked up the ice bound path towards the front door. The inside of the house was dark and cluttered and filled with an offensive odor; damp, excrement, urine and rotting flesh. Hermione moved across the cramped room with the mincing delicacy of someone walking across thin ice. His heightened state of awareness worked against him and, distracted by his paranoia, Tom didn't realize Harry had left the room before he turned and found the raven gone.
There were footsteps on the floor above.
Cursing, the dark brunet flung the cloak away and rushed onto the second floor. A hall, dim and narrow and equally as cluttered as the floor below. A doorway to his left, propped open by an overflowing chamber pot. More Parseltongue, a shout of alarm and the thump of something heavy hitting the floor. Wand raised high and throwing white light across the massive emerald serpent and the corpse it had crawled out of Tom barreled into the room and bellowed "Nagini, no!"
The leviathan spun around with a hiss of alarm, an expression flickering across her face which was the closest thing to surprise a snake would ever manage to muster.
"Master?" She hissed, Harry's presence seemingly forgotten, and slithered over to examine him more closely. "You look different. Younger. Like you used to." A Horcrux. Five times the size of his Nagini. This wasn't his Nagini; he had to keep that in mind. Had to get rid of her while he had the chance. And without the sword there was only one, very dangerous method through which to do so. Made all the more so by the grief and guilt which flooded through him at even the thought of doing it. Even if it wasn't his Nagini. Even if he was putting her out of her misery. "You smell whole again. Like you did before you broke yourself and gave me one of your pieces to protect."
She'd come within inches of him now, so long that when she raised body halfway off the floor she was eye level with him. Tom reached out and took her giant head in his hands. Running his fingers over her cold, smooth scales. "I'm sorry, Nagini."
"What are you apologizing for, Master?" Her tongue flicked against the back of his hand. "Why did you stop me? You told me to hold the boy until you got here. To bite him and make sure he couldn't get away. How are you already here? I didn't call."
"I'm sorry, Nagini." Hermione, who had come up the stairs behind him, darted passed to his left to join Harry where he was still standing. Watching them. The serpent tried to turn back to the cornered pair with a threatening hiss by Tom dug his nails into her scales and with a monumental effort managed to hold her in place. Aiming his wand at the nearest point of her monstrous body and locking down his barriers as best he could in hopes of eradicating any chance of a lapse in control. "Caleo Infernum."
All of the oxygen was sucked from the room, the air heating to an uncomfortable degree as a concentrated jet of flame erupted from the tip of his wand. Sulfurous. Dark orange. Blindingly bright. His magic railed against him as the spell fought to break free of his control and it took almost everything he had to prevent the devilish flames from slipping their bonds and exploding into a hellish conflagration that would consume the house and all four of them along with it. His counterpart had erected protections around the snake and they held up admirably but the fire was too strong, too hot, and broke through. Licking across scales. Quickly reducing flesh to ashes. But he'd removed his focus from holding the snake in place in order to be able to control the spell and, realizing that he wasn't her Master after all, Nagini's last act was to sink her fangs as deep into his forearm as she could.
Tom yowled and toppled backwards, cutting off the spell just in time to prevent it from breaking loose. Falling with the weight of the burning snake on top of him. His ears were ringing. His arm throbbing as the venom spread. Thoughts like 'highly venomous', 'injects enough venom to kill five men in a single bite' and 'hemotoxin' scattering like frightened mice through his mind.
I'm going to die. He wasn't sure if it was ironic or pathetic that the cause of his death was a bite from his own familiar.
Hands, Harry's or Hermione's he couldn't tell, grabbed him by the shoulders and the oppressive darkness of apparition collapsed in around him.