Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would have never, ever killed Snape off. This should be proof enough for you.
A/N: Ok, the first of the Godric's Hollow chapters is here! It's not going to be that huge, for it deals mainly with getting the wizards acquainted to one another. The next two chapters are going to be increasingly interesting and complex.
To Rubedo Jr: Thank you for your huge, inspiring reviews. No need to feel guilty for having skipped reviewing a few chapters, your force was with me. I am going to refrain from replying to your rhetorical questions, not only because they rhetorical, but also because I'd give too much away.
To NougatEvolution: Good question about the empathic element. First of all, Harry –did- notice. It's Tom that didn't. Tom didn't because this ability requires one to actually try and identify these emotions, and also because Tom always believes himself to be deducing Harry's emotions from his face. It never occurred to him that his understanding of Potter's feelings is too accurate for a sociopath, and there must be more than just his observation skills at play.
To Barranca: I am confused by your remark. I don't actually think there is any romance whatsoever between Potter and Tom yet, let alone a swiftly-developing one. In fact, Tom does even allow himself the comfort of an innocent embrace offered by his bloody guardian-to-be. You know, I am actually getting PMs yelling at me that I'm officially into novel-length now without having even introduced a sexual attraction in the main pairing. Conflicting reviews are mind-fucking me.
To Pouf: "Tom: *helps someone*, then... "Huh? What? Why did I-oh, right, post-hoc rationalization."" Ahahahahahahah, Merlin, your comments have me rolling on the floor laughing. I'm glad you enjoyed the silly Grindledore. It's silly because I am wasting all my seriousness quota on Potter and Riddle.
To Kokoro, PhoenixfromtheFlame, Marco and all the ones slightly squicked by the making out between middle-aged men: Just because most of us are young and beautiful, it doesn't mean that middle-aged men with goatees don't have a love life. I don't like the fact that most authors would rather resort to weird rejuvenation methods, cliché de-aging potions and whatnot to avoid writing about a chubby man with a moustache, or a lady with droopy breasts getting laid. I'll have you know I find canon Minerva HOT, and she is also very old.
Chapter 25
Potter's PoV
On Tuesday morning, in the Great Hall, Dippet stands up with a grave look on his face and requests our attention for a moment. I find that to be a little strange, because the Headmaster is a completely useless individual, and he doesn't make announcements unless he really, really has to. He loos somewhat upset, too, which somehow makes me feel a little happy, because to be honest, I dislike the man. He is perhaps one of the worst Hogwarts Headmasters to have ever served, and even the future versions of Howarts: A History reluctantly admit it.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I will need to make an announcement. According to the Ministry of Magic, there have been sightings of the Dark Lord Grindelwald in the UK. Due to this circumstance, I give all students which may wish to, the option to leave Hogwarts as soon as today, in case they or their parents fear for their security. Students that wish to remain here may do so, but lessons will also be annulled, since I cannot permit any students to fall behind. Consider this a slightly extended winter break, and please, take care," he states seriously and in a rather dull manner, and then he sits down, coughing a bit.
I turn around to Albus, and I am not the slightest bit surprised to find him trying to suppress his evidently good mood. I immediately feel a strange gratitude towards Grindelwald, who just came to our territory bearing the gift of an additional four days of holiday. Students though look quite confused, torn between joy and concern. Many from the Gryffindor table seem to be particularly worried, which makes sense, since most of them come from traditionally light families, that are probably not on the good side of Grindelwald's books.
Unfortunately, I am not allowed to inform them that Gellert is in fact not after their loved ones, but merely visiting the UK to reconcile with our dearest Transfigurations' Master, who so happens to be his childhood lover.
I turn my attention to the Slytherin table, and my eyes find Tom Riddle sitting quietly, his face indifferent and his eyes blank. I concentrate on him a little harder, straining our magical connection, and find myself certain that he feels fairly pleased about this announcement. When he notices me staring discreetly at him, he briefly establishes eye-contact, and I swear I even see the shadow of a smirk on his face. I sip my tea casually, while whispers echo all around the Great Hall.
"Do you think he could come here? Perhaps I should tell dad to fetch me…" I hear, and then some "Nonsense, the Ministry is simply trying to gain attention again. Why would he ever flee to…".
Also my ear catches a "Well, I think I'll stay. The wards here are better than anything my muggle parents could come up with,", and even "That's amazing! Do you think there will be an epic duel between him and Dumbledore?" Well, no, I don't think so, I reply inwardly and hold back a knowing grin.
"Albus, will you take your leave for the Dumbledore cottage today, then?" I ask politely the middle-aged wizard eating the chocolate bar. I can't afford to ask in a more straight-forward manner, since we are after all in the middle of a large hall. His eyes twinkle, and he takes a big gulp of tea before taking some sort of candy out of his pocket.
"Yes, I guess I will, and I have arranged your stay as well. Here, have a word-activated Portkey. Use the word 'Candycane' to activate it. You and your… snake will be both welcome to spend a fantastic Christmas with me and my… wife," he mumbles merrily, and I nearly choke on my tea, because he really does sound odd when he tries to be formal like that. I take the enchanted lemon drop and place it inside my robes. Soon enough to Great Hall begins to empty, and I also take my leave, following Riddle discreetly.
The sly little Slytherin is intelligent enough to lead me to a fairly empty corridor without turning around even once, where we can finally talk freely.
"Dumbledore just me a Portkey, and apparently he is already ready for our arrival. If you'd like to leave with me today, just pack a few belongings and meet me at 4 in the abandoned classroom. How is that?" I offer rather light-heartedly, and I look down at the somewhat cool student.
"I am not too sure how it is, but it definitely can't be worse than staying here and slowly boring myself to death," he mutters flatly, and I wonder why he seems to be in a fairly bad mood, considering this should be great news for him. Seeing as we seem to be trying to establish a relation of honesty and trust, I decide to simply ask him about it. This fairly simple method seems to work rather nicely on the young man.
"Are you upset about something?" I therefore ask, sounding as casual as I possibly could. Immediately I can tell that my question annoys him, even angers him a bit, for he takes a minuscule step back in a defensive manner, and his eyes harden. I keep looking at him gently until a portion of his rather irritated coldness leaves, and is replaced by neutrality.
"Nothing important," He finally says; an answer that I welcome, for it actually tells me that something is indeed the matter with him. I wonder briefly what could have possibly upset him during his breakfast in the Great Hall, seeing as in the beginning of it he looked quite fine, and even smirked at me a little.
"It's fine to talk about unimportant things. It doesn't in any way reduce you," I state quite seriously, and I become concern as I watch his jaw clench a bit, and his eyes turning to the side uncomfortably.
"It has nothing to do with you," he says clearly and perhaps a little loudly, but not in a truly hostile way. I try to avoid becoming frustrated by how unwilling he is to confide in me, reminding myself that he has gone through horrible things in his life, and cannot trust people as easily as others can.
"Please, Tom. If it concerns you, it concerns me as well. I've offered myself as your guardian, and therefore it's my duty to help you with things. Even the silly things, like getting your robes torn or getting into a fight with some impulsive Gryffindor," I let him know, and in return he shoots at me a look of absolute contempt. He must find it insulting that I just implied such petty occurrences could be enough to affect him in anyway. Despite the glare, he decides to speak to me, and that's all that matters.
"I got myself into conflict with a rather influential Slytherin witch. Although my base of supporters is much larger than hers, and I can easily wipe her out in a verbal battle, I still don't appreciate that she is now spreading rumours about my living off a rich old muggle as his consort," he spits at me and I see his eyes light up with rising hatred and violence. His words really worry me, because I wouldn't want some nasty incidents of that sort to push him towards his darker traits, and undo much of his progress. I am very troubled by finding Voldemort's intent to kill in the young boy's blue eyes while he talk about his new foe.
"Tom, don't let yourself be affected by such ridiculous gossip. I doubt many students will believe her disgusting claims, anyway. I thought you were doing a fine job completely ignoring the existence of anyone deemed unworthy. By the way, it is miss Black we are talking about here, isn't it?" I observe, and frown a little, calculating the potential harm that such a conflict could cause. Walburga was certainly not well-liked amongst her peers, like Tom was, but she could be truly nasty as times, willing to go very far in order to deal a blow to someone she decides to hurt.
"I will be very happy to fully ignore their filthy existences as long as they don't dare soil my reputation like that! I have worked really hard to build it, you know. When I came here I was a pathetic, unknown and penniless no-one. Some pitied little orphan. It was hard for me to gain the respect I currently have, and I allow no one to take that away from me, let alone that repulsive harpy!" Riddle exclaims furiously, and I am truly taken aback, from I have very rarely seen him talk in such an emotional manner. This rumour seems to strike some sensitive chord within the young boy, and I hope it will not force him to insensible or violent decisions.
"I understand. It must have been very difficult for you to overcome their preconceptions and gain such a large support. Although it does irritate me that you call it a following. Anyway, I'd advise you don't curse her or anything like that; nothing good can come out of that, as appealing as it may seem. Trust me, I'd love to hex her myself. I assure you that I'll find a way to interfere discreetly on this subject, without exposing either of us, alright?" I ask him, a small smile forming on my face, and lay my eyes on him warmly, trying too sooth his ire.
"No. I don't need help. I can handle this," he replies in a frigid, venomous tone, and I only realise to late that once more I have accidently insulted him. Thankfully, I know just how to rectify this. I place my hand on his shoulder and offer him a conspiratory look, along with a cruel smirk.
"I know you don't need any help, Riddle. I just really, really want to think of something un-nice to do to her, alright? I am heroic Gryff, an she is a bigoted Slytherin; we are natural enemies," I whisper in his ear, and I cheerfully observe his mistrust melting away. He smirks back at me, and I am surprised to find that he doesn't wince at my touch, nor does he pull away from it.
"Well, if you put it that way…" he observes and his eyes glint darkly as he looks up at me. It occurs to me that I expressed rather unethical and unkind intentions, and I wonder if Hermione would have lectured me about it. I don't think she would have; I still now clearly remember her punching Draco Malfoy in the face.
Riddle's PoV
After packing a few of my rather ugly and poorly manufactured belongings, I made my way silently to the abandoned classroom, successfully avoiding overly curious peers by taking advantage of the general chaos reigning in the castle. The green man is already there, with a ridiculously small trunk levitating somewhere behind him, and he welcomes me with one of his typical friendly smiles, that actually have ceased to annoy me as much I they used to at first. I now manage to simply treat them as some sort of unfortunate nervous tick.
Potter places his hand inside his robes and moves I around a bit, before actually revealing a lemon drop, and extending it towards me. I give him a long, hard glare full of exasperation and disbelief; what is it with powerful and well-respected wizards having this compulsion related to offering people candy at random points in time? But the green man does not withdraw his surreal offer, and I stare at the lemon drop for a while, utterly perplexed, until it finally dawns on me, and I snort loudly.
"Dumbledore's Portkey, right? Why am I not surprised…" I find myself observing dryly, and the ghost of an amused smile appears on the older wizard's lips before I actually extend my own arm to grab the goddamn candy. I stare at him expectantly, not wanting to have this humiliating situation last any longer, so he finally exclaims "Candycanes", and I experience the truly uncomfortable feeling of being pulled up though a hook in the navel.
We end up crashing in the middle of a large, green field, and the first thing I note is that, fortunately, I am the one the have fallen on top of him, and not other way round. I get back up as swiftly as I can, straightening and dusting my robes hastily, while he takes his time, simultaneously admiring our environment. Which is really a rather bland and unimpressive environment in my opinion, made up mostly by trees, grass and other such commonplace green objects.
"That must be it," he factually notes, a few blades of grass tangled in his dark hair, and he points towards a large and well-preserved albeit humble cottage. I do not find the motivation to formulate a reply, so I simply follow him as he walks towards the rural residence, silent and a little impatient. When we reach the door, the green man lifts his large hand in on attempt to knock it, but the door opens before he manages to do so, revealing the disgustingly friendly face of Albus Dumbledore.
"Why welcome!" he exclaims in a way so gleeful that one would think he just got a visit from the Minister himself, his eyes twinkling in a rather disturbing fashion. "My wards informed of your arrival," he adds, and I inwardly observe that this piece of information is completely useless, for both Potter and I own the necessary number of braincells to have been able to deduce that ourselves. I quietly and gracefully follow Potter inside, and the first thing I notice is that the place is asphyxiatingly full of books, tomes, parchments and scriptures of any kind, which is actually a very pleasant sight, that produces the equally appreciated aroma of worn pages and old ink.
As we move into the living room, my eyes naturally fall on the middle-ages man sitting on the sofa comfortably, reading rapidly a large, weathered tome on "Obscure uses of human bones in Grecian rituals". I immediately recognise him, despite the rather blurry pictures of him that the Prophet has been making use of lately, to be the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald; but he seems completely oblivious to our presence until Bumble-sore decides to cough a few times, politely.
"Vhat do you vant you crazy old… Oh," the German wizard shouts, and then he drops his book gently and rises up from the sofa, looking quite interested by our sudden arrival. "You vill forgive me, vhen I read I tend to lose avareness of my surroundings. I'm Gellert Grindelwald," He then adds, and he offers his elongated, bony hand. Potter smiles at him and grabs his hand in a strong, manly handshake that lasts quite a few seconds.
"I'm Harry Potter. I gather Albus must have told you about the peculiar circumstances that brought me to your timeline," he presents himself casually, and I stare at the whole scene incredulously, because right in front of my eyes, a mass-murdered and a time-traveler with a hero complex are exchanging pleasantries as if they did not have a few dozens of reasons to hate one another. Then they both turn around and stare at me, causing the experience the sudden urge to flee and go spend a few quiet and rational hours on the Hogwarts library.
"Und you are ze young Tom Riddle, ya? Albus told me of you. Disconcertingly bright and eerily disturbed vas the vay he described you I think," the middle-aged wizard states matter-of-factly and I cringe a bit at the casualty of his unsettling remark. I reluctantly bring my hand up, allowing it to be shaken for a brief moment, before withdrawing it a little too quickly.
"Well, I think it's tea-time. You can all go and sit outside; the weather is lovely these days, strangely enough, in spite of it being the middle of winter. Just get yourselves comfortable under the gazebo, and I'll bring the tea." Dumbledore suddenly suggests, and I find myself, shamefully enough, feeling a wave of gratitude towards the meddling coot for having liberated from the grasp of a truly awkward moment. Thus, the three of us make our way to the garden, and have a sit under that silly gazebo, which I find a little kitsch, climbing flowers and red ivy and all.
"Albus tells me you are a fantastic dueller, ya? Perhaps more poverful than him even. Vill you grant me a friendly duel? I have been dying for a little excitement," Grindelwald suggest to the green man, smiling charmingly, and I can't help but note that in spite of his age, the retired Dark lord is certainly very attractive, with dark azure eyes, a golden skin and a toned frame. I wonder why a man that powerful accomplished and charismatic would be willing to abandon his splendid, grandiose ambitions for the sake of enjoying Albus' tea and company. And then of course I realise just what the dark wizard just offered, and my nostrils flare up with excitement, for if such a duel actually take place it will be an exquisite opportunity for me to both gain knowledge and be entertained.
"Certainly. But no Unforgiveables, right?" Potter replies after a moment of thought, and his answer seems to pleased Grindelwald enormously, for his eyes glisten with a strange kind of greed, and he immediately gets up on his feet. He walks a few feets away from the gazebo, into the field, and turns around at us, flashing a dark, eerie smile.
"Ov course not. Never amongst friends, mister Potter. Shall ve, then?" he states, and suddenly his voice is not light and casual anymore, but low, dangerous growl. The green man gets up and takes his wand out of his holster, placing himself in front of the German wizard; suddenly it doesn't seem all that amusing, and I feel a little uncomfortable, despite my fascination, for their eyes lock intensely and a few sparks of magic crackle in the air.
They take the typical three steps away from one another, and as soon as they turn around they both fire a few fairly harmless curses, that they easily if not sleepily counter. They are warming up, I deduce.
"Bombarda!" screams Grindelwald, but Potter's exceptionally potent Protego seems to completely cancel the effects of the spell, while the green-eyes wizard counter-attacks with a "Diffindo". His spell is easily annulled with a quickly cast "Deletrius", and Grindelwald's next curse is actually non-verbal. I feel the agitation building up inside of me, recognising that they are about to show their true capabilities, unveil their talent.
I recognise the German wizard's silent curse to be a Relashio, its red sparks flying off with impressive speed towards the green man, who simply dodges it physically without really seeming to break a sweat, all while firing two curses of his own. One seems to be an Animisponia, a fairly nasty pain spell for a light wizard, really, and the other I don't manage to identify before it hits Grindelwald's loudly shouted "Protego Obscuris!".
The dark wizard is smirking widely now, his face glowing with unrestrained joy, and even Potter seems quite elated, which a find a little puzzling, seeing as he seems to generally advocate peace.
"Draconis Aqualis!" the former Dark Lord cries out excitedly, and a huge mass of water bursts out of his wand, forming into the majestic silhouette of a gorgeous dragon and rushing towards Potter. The green-eyed wizard does not scream his counter-attack out loud, but Fiendfyre is not really a spell that one could miss; and thus to two terrible beasts clash brutally, causing steam and ash to fly around our heads. The two elemental spells cancel each other out after a long struggle, and suddenly the air is filled with arrows, and consequently with blades. A Telum and a Vesica I note, pretty dangerous spells, both of them, although neither duellers seem the slightest bit worried, conjuring themselves protective shields of various kinds with impressive ease.
When Grindelwald casts three Confrigos in rapid succession, followed by a rather brutal Ossum Diminuendo, I wonder whether the green man will manage to make it out of this duel without permanent harm, and despite my bests efforts I find myself a little bit worried.
And yet, Potter swiftly casts three Annulus and a Corpeus Curam, effectively countering all four spells with amazing ease, instantly earning my absolute respect. He then casts a potent slashing curse that I have never seen before, and gracefully dodges an entrails-expelling curse while conjuring a Potter decoy. The German wizard easily destroys the decoy with a fiendishly powerful Expulso, that causes half the field to catch fire, although neither of them actually seem to mind.
When Potter manages to conjure a set of solid pillar out of the soil, imprisoning the dark wizard inside them, I begin to think that he might actually manage to come out of this not only alive, but also victorious. His opponent struggles with the pillars for a while, also trying to protect himself from an incoming wave of other hexes and curses. He tries quite a few spells before actually managing to break his prison down; when he manages, strangely enough, I feel disappointed, realising that I am actually secretly rooting for Potter, despite my fascination with dark wizards.
I almost gasp when a simply Expelliarmus, Merlin forbid, throws Potter's wand away from his hands and far into the fields.
And then it obviously dawns on me, seeing as I am not actually thick. The green man can cast wandless magic; he is only trying to give his opponent an impression of eminent victory in order for him to drop his guard, and dear me he is doing a find job at it, morphing his face into a visage of anger and panic. Grindelwald, falling victim to his overly large self-confidence, actually grins widely, his face glowing, and starts approaching Potter triumphantly with his wand extended. When the time-traveler finally smirks, throwing Gellert off guard, it is too late for the German dueler; he does not have the time or space to avoid the wandless Leg-locking curse, and he collapses to the floor, awe-struck. I hold myself back from cheering, and my heart is still beating unhealthily fast from the mounting excitement.
Suddenly, I hear a few steps behind me, and the sound of a tray falling on the floor, and perhaps a few cups breaking.
"Tea-ti… Oh dear."
Around us a couple of trees are still burning, a few newly formed lakes are slowly filling up with mud, and I must admit that Albus' flower bed is not in a very good shape.