Chapter Twenty-nine
A Dark Deed, A Dark Possession
Present Day
Alina woke up in a strange room.
Which was fitting, as Alina seemed to forever awake in strange rooms nowadays. However, she felt like she had been here in this room before. Alina glimpsed around the dust filled living area. A sour, musty smell had permeated the place, as if it had been neglected for a long, long time. There were gaps in the disturbed dust on the wooden floor and walls, as if pieces of furniture and paintings had been removed, or stolen.
Alina sat up quickly, which was a mistake, as her head swam sickeningly. She brought her hand up to calm the waves in her brain. It was then that she noticed the blood.
Alina's hands were covered in sticky splashes of dark red blood. The air around her smelt like metallic rust and mud. Alina's mouth filled with salvia, but she pushed the nausea down, not wanting to be vulnerable in such a precarious situation. She tried to think about what had happened, but her memory came up with blank holes. The last thing she remembered was…
Harry Potter escaping. The Dark Lord's anger and paranoia. His possession over her body.
With a gasp, Alina looked around the dimly lit room. She found him lounging by the barren fireplace, his gaze steady and calm on hers. He looked completely satisfied, wholly pleased with himself.
"What did you do?" Alina was ashamed that her voice came out shaking, but she could not help the terror from rising in her. She refused to look at her bloody hands, hoping beyond hope that her worst suspicions were not true.
"You mean, what did you do, Alina." He was smug. Alina wanted to claw at his contented face, wanted him to bleed.
"Whatever it was, it wasn't me. You possessed me!"
"Don't you remember, Alina?" Alina bit back a retort. She could have easily made a quip about how she always seemed to have some bout of memory-loss because of him, but she did not think now was the time, not when there was someone else's blood on her hands. Alina did a quick inventory of herself to check that it was indeed not she who had been hurt, but someone else. "What fun this would be if you couldn't remember. You're not remembering on purpose. It's within you. Look and you will see."
Alina did not want to remember, he was right. Yet, she could not stand the idea of not knowing for sure what the Dark Lord had done in her body. Alina stood up from the dark wooden floor shakily.
"Where are we?" She whispered.
"Don't you remember this place?" Lord Voldemort asked, his posture still relaxed against the empty hearth, but there was a hard gleam in his red eyes. "It's my dearly departed muggle ancestors home. Oh, but I suppose it's much more than just the Riddle Manor. This place is now so very dear to me, as it was the place where you saw me for what I truly was before I inflicted my dark taint on you. It is that very soul residing in you that allowed me to possess you." He spoke evenly at first, but Alina could detect the rising tension in his voice. The Dark Lord was still incredibly furious with her and Alina was wise to be wary. He had switched their conversation to Parseltongue, possibly because he was mistrustful that there would be ears open nearby to hear his most darkest of secrets. Alina thought it was a wasted effort; no one was listening to them. If they were, it would have only been the ghosts frequenting the graveyard nearby the mansion, for Alina did not think the dead rested peacefully here.
Alina swayed where she stood, her head still swimming. Her mind wanted her to remember what had occurred recently. It was there, at the forefront of her brain. With a mounting dread, Alina gave in and accessed it. The Dark Lord watched on from the fireplace as horror and revulsion flooded Alina's beautiful facial features. She was remembering at last.
A Few Hours Earlier
Alina stood outside the Hanged Man.
It was night time now, but warm lights flickered from inside the small, quaint building. The sign swayed in the cold wind. She recognised it faintly as the pub in the town where Tom's family used to live, before he murdered them. There was a dark passenger in Alina's body and she knew she was not in control. Alina was unsure of how she had come to Little Hangleton from the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire. Unbidden, her legs moved her towards the pub. Alina tried to hold back, but there was no use. There was an alien presence within her, controlling her movements, like she was a mere puppet on strings. However, on a deeper look internally, Alina was able to see that it was not a strange presence inside of her. She recognised the being, knew it well and knew it intimately. The Dark Lord was possessing her body and there was nothing Alina could do to stop him.
Alina entered the welcoming tavern. She peered around, looking, searching. There, perfect.
The thoughts were not Alina's own, but rather that of Lord Voldemort. He had spied a potential pray in the Hanged Man's vicinity. The man was young and classically handsome with curly, dark blonde hair.
Do you like him, Alina? The Dark Lord's voice filled her mind.
No, of course not. You have been the only one I ever wanted, you know this. Although, at this moment I don't like you very much. Alina answered back, trying to keep the rising panic from manifesting in her internal voice.
Good. I don't care whether or not you like me, Alina. I am teaching you a lesson.
The Dark Lord moved her body closer to the bar where, posing as Alina, he ordered her a drink. Although Alina had no muggle money on her person, the Dark Lord inflicted a wordless incantation on the barman in order not to create a scene. Lord Voldemort then swayed Alina's form down the tavern to where the man he had spied earlier was sitting. The man was on his own and he occupied a rickety, wooden table by the frosty window. He was reading a novel and he seemed peaceful. Alina tried to halt her body movements, but it was a wasted effort. The man looked up, startled when Alina approached.
He seemed to be taken aback and wonder lit up his Catalina blue eyes. The man took in Alina's slim figure, her high cheekbones and plush lips. In the fading candlelight, her silver-blonde hair appeared to shimmer down her collarbones and over her covered breasts. The Dark Lord was using Alina's beauty to his advantage.
"I am sorry to bother you, sir, but I don't want to drink alone. Do you mind if I sat down?" It was her voice that spoke the words, but she still sounded foreign to Alina. She detected malevolence underneath the words and grew fearful once again of what the Dark Lord was up to. The man did not detect the underscoring violence, as he politely, and eagerly, stood up to pull out a chair for her.
Alina sat down and chatted with the man for quite some time. My name is Joseph, he had said to her. The Dark Lord did not provide Alina's name in return. The real Alina inside watched alarmingly as her body spoke and seduced the poor, innocent muggle man before her. Alina watched as she lured the man outside the pub. She led him up the same pathway Alina had taken many years ago when she had come to Little Hangleton the first time. They moved silently through the gravestones in the cemetery, wanting somewhere more private.
It was there, behind an old oak tree and next to the resting place of a Ms. Jean Abram, where Alina made her first kill.
It was not pretty either. The Dark Lord had thought a simple avada kedavra curse would be too easy for Alina. He was not letting her off that easily. He wanted to punish her for the crimes she had recently committed against him. He chose this victim because he knew how much it would hurt Alina to see a person suffer. Plus, he delighted in killing the pretty blue-eyed boy, knowing Alina would never know another man, would never couple with a handsome stranger.
Alina's presence screamed at the back of her mind as the Dark Lord forced her hands to cut open and tear. Blood was spilled and it was on her hands now. Her hands ripped, her hands mutilated, her hands inflicted agony and anguish.
In that graveyard, Alina truly lost all of her innocence.
Present Day
Alina remembered everything.
She ran outside, needing the sweet feeling of fresh air on her face before she vomited. Bile lingered behind on her tongue. If she had her wand, Alina would have spelled some water nearby to wash her mouth out with. Instead, she reached up to rub her hand across her lips. In doing so, she spied the dried blood there. With a cry, Alina rubbed her hands together frantically, trying to wipe them clean. She scraped her hands so hard that they were turning raw.
The Dark Lord came up from behind her. Alina witnessed his dark shadow spreading out behind her from the dimly lit doorway. She staggered up and she ran out into the darkness, needing to be away from the house, away from him.
It was a mistake to run, for the only place she ended up in was the cemetery where the man's body lay behind an old oak tree. Alina avoided the general area where he lay, feeling sick once again, and went to lean against a grave adorned with an avenging angel above it. Or perhaps it was a grim reaper, Alina thought, as she glimpsed the scythe in its pale hand. Alina did not notice was the names engraved onto the stone.
Lord Voldemort found her there, hiding at his father's grave.
"Get up," he hissed at her slumped form.
Alina watched his serpentine face, the only face she had ever truly known, and the only face she had ever loved. He had taken everything away from her. The remains of her dignity and innocence had been ripped away from her. What was left? Alina was not sure if he had read her thoughts or if she had spoken aloud.
"Me," the Dark Lord said proudly, yet malice cloaked his high voice.
A single tear fell down her beautiful, radiant face. Lord Voldemort drew off her off the ground to lick at the fallen drop. Alina closed her eyes and shuddered.
The Dark Lord took her there, at the base of his father's grave. His father's death had been used to make him and Alina both immortal. It was only fitting that Lord Voldemort drew his body into Alina's at Tom Riddle Sr.'s resting place in dark delight. The smell of blood and mud filled the air as the Dark Lord revelled in Alina's loss of virtue once more.
