Harry Potter, The Stone and the Scorpion Chapter 6: Control

Harry slid the ring onto his finger and sat slowly behind Snape's desk. How would this work? How long would it take? Would he even be able to speak directly to Voldemort or would he just hear him in his mind?

"It depends on how you want to talk."

Harry's head snapped up from the ring. On the other side of the desk sat Tom Riddle, sitting on the chair students used when they were called into this office. It was a wooden, hard backed chair but he lolled in it like it was a throne. He wasn't quite the same figure that had came out of the diary. He looked the same age but his features were... glassy. His skin was smooth and pale and his eyes had little flecks of red. Through the magic eye he looked ghostly and faint, but through his true eye the dark lord looked real.

"What do you mean it depends?" Harry crossed his arms.

"Well we can talk like this..." Riddle smiled. Or we can talk like this.

"Talking out loud is fine Tommy." Harry placed his hands flat on the desk, the ring displayed prominently forward. "Tell me what you did the Pythea."

"I took over her soul. You know that." Tom Riddle chuckled. The red in his eyes sparkled. "You punched her as I remember. You do know that that's no way to treat a lady."

"I wasn't talking about that." Harry snarled. "What's happening to her now? Some wasting curse or something..."

"Really?..." Riddle leant back in his chair. "That... that is unfortunate. You must be crushed."

"Shut up."

"I must extend my deepest condolences."

"Shut up!" Harry slammed his hand down on the desk. "Tell me what the curse is! You obviously hid it well. When I found the ring I removed a shrivelling curse, a samyaza and something I hadn't seen before that would have turned blood to lead in my veins. What did I miss?"

"The lead spell is called a plumb-sang."

"Tell me you bastard! Tell me or I'll destroy you."

"Destroy me?" Tom crossed his arms. "I doubt you could. And even if you could it does not matter. After all I am not lord Voldemort, I am just an... image."

"No you're not. You're lying." Harry chuckled. "You're more than an image. You have the mind of Voldemort at least, which means you have all his qualities. Qualities like cowardice and self preservation. I think you will tell me what I want to know."

"Self preservation? Perhaps." Tom Riddle leant forward. "But the fact remains that you have no idea how to destroy this ring."

"Phoenix fire destroyed the diary." Harry gritted his teeth together. "And I know a phoenix who's probably abut ready to burn."

"Phoenix... " Tom Riddle paused and licked his lips. "That will not work."

"Yes it will. You're lying again."

"I am not..." Riddle was breathing quickly. "I have no need to lie. I am the dark lord, you have no power over-"

Harry pulled the ring off his finger and the dark lord snapped out of existence mid sentence. Harry held the ring up to his face and said,

"Don't think you have any sort of power here Tommy." Harry slapped the ring twice against the desk with loud ringing knocks. "You hear me in there? You've got no cards here! Understand? You will tell me or I will kill you!" Harry slammed the ring back on his finger. The dark lord reappeared where he had been, his face a mask of rage.

"You cannot do this to me! I am lord Volde-" Harry pulled the ring off again.

"When I put the ring back on..." Harry snarled. "You will drop the whole 'I am lord Snakeface' thing and tell me exactly what I want to know or you're going to the fire." Once again the dark lord reappeared, eyes flaring almost full red. But he said nothing.

"Ready to talk yet?" Harry rubbed the band of the ring on his finger. "Just say one word. The name of the curse, that's all you have to say and I put the ring back in the drawer and we never have to speak again."

"I... You can't do this to me." The dark lord's eyes flickered back and forth. "You... you cannot..."

"Just tell me the name of the curse. That's all you have to do to avoid being burnanated. Just tell me."

"I... I am Lord Voldemort." Tom Riddle's teeth were gritted closed and his hands were gripped to the sides of his chair.

"No you're not. You're a prisoner. A prisoner who's not even alive so there's no requirement for me to not kill you. Tell me what the curse is."

Riddle's breath was coming swift and shallow.

"Tell me!" Harry yelled. "Tell me!"

Riddle snarled like a dog.

"Tell me!" Riddle was shaking. Not in anger Harry realized... He was shaking in fear. Riddle was terrified. Harry's brow furrowed... Why would he be that scared... "You have no idea what happened to Thea... Whatever happened to her... it wasn't your curse... it wasn't your ring..."

Voldemort had stopped dead, frozen in place, his eyes burning like coals.

"Well..." Harry shook his head. "That's something at least." Harry reached for the ring and jerked it forward. It would not move. Harry's eyes jerked up. Tom Riddle was smiling like a cat.

"Well well well Potter." Riddle smirked. "It seems I do have some power after all."

Harry tried desperately to drag the ring off his finger, it would not move an inch. Harry grabbed for his wand to slice the finger off but he couldn't make his mouth speak the words.

A great deal of power.

Voldemort's was in his head now, the figure gone from the other side of the desk. Harry stumbled and fell against the rough stone wall. Wait... wall? Harry flicked his eyes up. He was in the corridor! He hadn't moved of his own accord... His feet were moving again! Harry clamped his feet down on the floor and slammed his arm against the wall. His wand dropped from his numb fingers.

Feeling a little less in control Mr Potter?

"MYRTLE!" Harry screamed into the blank air. "Myrtle get here or get help!"

Calling help from one of my old victims?

"Someone!" Harry yelled. His wand was back in his hand... NO! Harry forced his fingers to open again and the wand clattered down. Harry slammed his foot down and snapped the little sliver of wood like a twig. He couldn't let Voldemort loose in his body in the middle of Hogwarts. Could not...

You think you have a choice?

"MYRTLE!" Harry fell to the floor. His muscles were twitching, every flickering part of him was trying to move. "Help me!"

Ha ha ha ha!

"Someone!" Harry was on his feet again. Not by choice. He was staggering forward, trying to stop himself... but. "Mico marauders! Mico anyone!" Wouldn't work without a wand.

There is no help for you Mr Potter.

Harry frantically tried to scrape the ring off his finger. It wasn't moving. Not an inch. Black spots were flying before his eyes.

You are mine now.

"Harry what in the hell?" The voice sparked out of the air above him. Harry's head flickered up, at the top of the stares was the tired and moon-sick figure of Draco Malfoy.

"Draco... It's not the ring!" Harry croaked out. He had to tell someone what he'd found. "Pythea! It's not the ring that made her sick! It's... It's... It's something else!"

"Harry what's wrong with you?"

Nothing.

"Nothing." Harry clenched his teeth closed. "No! Tell Madam Pomfrey!... And get this bloody ri- Nothing is wrong Malfoy."

Go away you little traitor.

"Harry your... your eyes." Draco's hand flickered to his wand. "They're red."

I'm just tired. They are bloodshot.

"I'm just tired." Harry's neck muscles twisted his head in a shaking motion. "They are bloodshot."

"Harry maybe we should go to the hospital wing together." Draco's eyes had gone hard and he had drawn his wand. "I think you may be unwell."

"Unwell Malfoy?" Harry hissed. "Don't presume to-"

"Stop." Draco pointed his wand straight between Harry's eyes. "Draw your wand slowly and drop it to the floor."

"Please... friend-"

"Do it."

"Hmm..." Voldemort twitched Harry's lips into a smile. "I see there's no point pretending anymore. What was it that gave me away?"

"Harry doesn't call me by my last name." Draco's eyes narrowed above deep black bags. "You're... something else."

"I am more than something else." Voldemort thrust Harry's hand forward, displaying the ring. "I am your rightful master little dog. Heel."

"Oh wonderful." Draco muttered.

"Die!" Harry's hand was flung forward and a sparkling bolt of lightning flared out. Draco dodged and flung himself to the floor. Voldemort spun Harry's body for a second hit but Harry flung the last vestiges of his strength onto his treacherous muscles. His arm stopped moving for a fraction of a second.

"Stubefy!" The red spell flashed out of Draco's wand and everything went black.

Harry was used to crazy dreams so when he found himself in a dark place full of screaming and hissing he just sat on the floor and thought of apples. After a little while the darkness faded and Harry heard the rustling of trees.

In the night all around him there were snakes. Snakes in his orchard! Harry shuddered, he was in his little dream but he felt drunk. Shaking and unsettled, he looked around. The darkness was seeping in through the trees... invading his orchard. The snakes didn't seem to see him, just kept winding their way through the trees. Four of them whispered their way through the leaves. One wrapped it's way around the roots of the largest tree, biting it's own tail. It's lidless eyes flashed red.

Harry glanced deeper into the wood. One more snake, lying still on the ground. Nailed in place by a wooden stake. Harry looked down at his hand. Another snake was wrapped around his finger. A tiny thin snake with black bands.

Weird. Profetic. Harry shook his head. Not again-

"Harry."

Hm... Harry slowly woke.

"Harry wake up so I can tell you how unspeakably foolish you have been."

"Professor Snape..." Harry shook the cobwebs out of his head and opened his eyes. The hospital wing was dark and empty. Snape was standing at the foot of Harry's hospital bed. Wait... Snape had to know! "The ring! I found something out about-"

"I got the message Harry." Snape's face was a blank and angry slate. "Draco understood the significance of your message."

"You need to help Thea then." Harry struggled to rise out of the hospital bed. "You need to help-"

"I already did."

Harry's eye flashed to the bed next to him. Pytea was still lying there but... her heartbeat... it was stronger. It was almost as strong as ever.

"You... you did it?" Harry fell back onto his bed. "You saved her."

"It was a toxin." Snape gestured towards the seer. "Once you made me aware that the ring was not the source of her affliction I began to look further afield. I found a terrible poison. It acted more like a disease than a poison. As virulent as I have ever seen."

"Someone tried to kill her?" Harry found himself staring into shadows to try to see enemies.

"No Harry. I do not believe so." Snape tapped a small bottle he was holding in his hand. "Last year you were in a near constant state of mild toxicity. You have built up... resistances."

"Wait... Are you saying I've been poisoned too?"

"Not any more. I cured you when I cured the Pythea." Snape's eyebrow twitched up. "You were poisoned originally. The poison must have passed to her by some... exchange of fluid."

"When I was bleeding..." Harry cast his mid back. "She kissed my forehead. She was bleeding too."

"Is that the story you're sticking to?"

"So someone tried to kill me." Harry ignored Snape's insinuation and scratched his head. "I'm thinking maybe a group of assassin-mercenaries hired by my arch nemesis?"

"The Lie Gou are the obvious choice."

"Sounds like you have your doubts."

"I do." Snape shook his head. "The poison was not an eastern one, far from it. It was invented in Florence. That does not mean the Lie Gou could not have acquired it but it seems... odd."

"Odd... wonderful. As if we haven't had enough odd these past few weeks." Harry rolled his eyes. "And what you're saying is it's possible there are some other people trying to kill me. Wonderful. Just my bloody luck."

"Oh stop complaining Harry." A weak voice spoke from the other bed. "You wouldn't know what to do with a boring life."

"Thea!" Harry slid out of his sheets and stepped over to the little seer's bed. "Are you alright?"

"I feel terrible Harry." Pythea raised her hand shakily up to his face. "I tried to kill you."

"I poisoned you." Harry shrugged. "Besides, after all the times you've saved my life you can probably try to kill me like five or six more times before I get angry."

"I never saved your life Harry." Pythea smiled weakly. "I just gave you the impetus to help yourself."

"You're being all seerey again. Stop it." Harry chuckled.

"I'm just trying to get you in a good mood." Pythea looked away. "You aren't going to like what I want to do now."

"Try me." Harry tensed.

"I want try again to skry with the ring."

"No."

"Harry we know now it wasn't what made me sick." Pythea protested. Snape moved behind Harry's shoulder, silently backing him up. "We also know that the ring is important to Voldemort. There must be something to find-"

"No!" Harry cut her off. "The thing does nothing but lie and control, just like Voldemort. I'm going to destroy it as soon as possible."

"I agree." Snape nodded. "We can safely assume that it was like the diary. A trap for anyone who tried to follow the dark lord's early like. A deterrent to any curious investigation."

"It doesn't matter what it is." Harry shook his head. "It's a cancer on the world. Whether by Fawkes, some other phoenix or by some other method entirely that thing is toast."

Harry spoke definitely, but he couldn't help but feel a niggling doubt. Like a snake curled around his heart.

"We have to destroy it." Harry repeated, half to himself. "We have to."

"What do you mean they're not flaming?" Harry asked pointedly over the breakfast table.

"I mean they're not." Hermione held out the letter for him to read. "I wrote to the researchers as soon as you told me to but it's too late. The phoenixes have stopped flaming for winter."

"For winter?" Harry rolled his eyes. "What do they care about winter? They're on fire!"

"They're birds as well as magical creatures Harry."

"Wonderful." Harry shuddered. "When do they stop hibernating?"

"Not till spring."

"Great. I have to carry this deadly parcel around for months." Harry hefted his bag on his shoulders. Since the incident the ring had always been with him. In a lead box. He wasn't taking chances. "And until then I've got nothing I can do."

"You could study."

"Nothing useful."

"Well you could ask Professor Snape for something else to do." Hermione glanced up at the high table where the potions master was absent. Not unusual these days.

"I know, but I don't know If there's anything to be done." Harry shook his head and gestured to the paper lying discarded on the table between them. "Voldemort seems to be content with random acts of random minor unpleasantness right now. I can't help thinking he's working up to something horrendous."

"Like diagon alley?"

"Or worse." Harry shrugged. "No way to tell."

"Do you think the order has any leads?"

"I think they'd probably tell me." Harry replied honestly. "Snape's been pretty good about keeping me in the loop so far."

"Do you know where he's going now?"

"No." Harry smiled. "Hopefully working."

"Well, until you find something to do," Ginny broke in, walking past them. "You can start turning up to marauder training sessions. You've been missing them since the whole ring thing."

"Pythea was dying." Harry replied exasperated.

"So are a lot of people." Ginny replied flatly before moving off. Harry watched her go before turning back to Hermione.

"Her parent's still haven't woken up have they?"

"No." The bushy haired girl shook her head. "They visit them at weekends."

"I should go with them some time."

"Well you've been busy." Hermione said, in a way that indicated that was no excuse.

"Or I could just tie Draco up and leave him in Ginny's bed." Harry continued. "That'd probably cheer her up more."

"Harry-"

"Especially if he was naked."

"Harry!"

"Oh relax." Harry chuckled, "Come on, we really should get to the marauder session. Maybe beating the lot of you around the attic will make me feel better."

Snape slowed as he approached the dark stairwell and began walking down carefully. Some of the steps were almost as smooth as glass. The stair twisted down and down into the rock beneath Malfoy Manor. Much further than any of the basements. Snape placed a light hand on the wall as he proceeded down, his wand the only source of light, his footsteps the only sound.

He rounded the final corner and had to shield his eyes as guttering torches came into view. Stretching out before him was a long corridor of blank iron doors, stained black from rust and long decay. The decay was of no consequence, it wasn't the quality of the construction that kept the prisoners in this place. Snape nodded to the two jailers, members of the order, before turning to the third figure standing before him.

"You're late." Moody growled.

"Yes, I am. I was busy." Snape replied. "Your point?"

"I've had to wait down in the pit for half an hour!"

"Then you arrived fifteen minutes early and cannot blame me for that." Snape strode forward past the old auror. "Let us not delay this any further."

"Right." Moody stomped after him, holding his wand high as the light of the torches faded into the darkness behind them. Once again Snape was enveloped in silence, the cells themselves were soundproof. Moody finally broke the quiet. "You know why I called you out here."

"Another of the prisoners seems ready to break." Snape repeated what he had read in Moody's brief missive that had arrived on his desk before breakfast. "Which one?"

"Don't think it's right." Moody ignored the question, shaking his head roughly. "It's not right. You've got us pussyfooting around these bastards. Offering them books and shorter sentences and even freedom if they help us."

"And you think it is ineffective?"

"I think it's bloody wrong is what it is!" Moody snarled. "These men should all be behind bars for life not waited on hand and foot."

"We need information."

"Then we should be getting out the thumbscrews!" Moody thrust out a hand to stop Snape moving. "You seriously don't have a problem with offering them all this stuff?"

"Offering? No. We can offer them whatever we want. It doesn't mean we will ever give it to them. And so long as they are never given an opportunity to compare notes? I have no problem." Snape reached out and pushed Moody's hand out of his way. "Trust that if I deem it necessary I will have no hesitation in deploying the thumbscrews."

"Oh of that I've got no doubt." Moody's eye looked Snape up and down in a split second before he stomped off down the corridor again. Snape followed him.

"You never told me who it is I am here to see."

"Not one of the proper death eaters." Moody spat. Snape fought the urge to turn up his nose. "One of the stinking criminals you-know-who dragged to his cause."

"That does not mean he is useless to us."

"Captured by Harry." Moody fixed Snape with a stare while still walking. "At Miss Zhao's residence. Last year, you remember."

Snape stiffened. So the man he was about to talk to had been involved in the attack on Natalie's life. There had been a great deal of unpleasantness that night. Natalie had been reluctant to talk about it at length but-

"Does that change things?" Moody broke Snape's thoughts, his voice full of dark insinuation.

"Why would it?" Snape forced himself to reply.

"I can still get the thumbscrews."

"Perhaps later."

Moody came to a stop before a door indistinguishable from the hundreds of other doors.

"His name's Shepherd Kilkenny." Moody put his hand on the door. "Used to be a cursebreaker for Gringots." Moody tapped his wand on the door and Snape heard a bolt slam back. The old auror pushed the door open and allowed Snape inside. The cell within was bare. Bed. Chair. Sanitary facilities. Snape had made sure the cells were as stark as possible to encourage the prisoners to break. Sometimes they would talk just out of boredom. As Snape entered the hunched figure sitting at the foot of the bed straightened.

"Hello Mr Kilkenny." Snape sat down on the hard-backed chair. "I have been informed that you have something to tell me."

"Yeah," The man reached up and scratched behind his ear. "But I got some demands."

"Do you think you are in a position to demand?" Snape was shocked to find his voice was still steady.

"I've got information. Stuff you need to know. But I've heard a lot of 'might' and 'maybe' and 'If your information pans out'." The prisoner hunched. "I want some guarantees."

Snape met Shepherds eyes and gently pushed. A barrier of Occlumency met him. Of course it would be there. There would have been no point in this whole exercise if it hadn't. Snape took a moment to consider his response. He could offer whatever he wanted, but it would not do to seem to offer too much. There was a marginal chance that this man was not a fool.

"So long as your information is true you may have some concessions." Snape replied steadily. "A better quality of sustenance. Books. Perhaps a window. Everything after that is depended on how useful I consider the information you give me is. So I suggest you begin taking steps to convince me."

"I want to get out of here." The man sneered. "I want years off."

"As the Wizengamot no doubt informed you at your trial you have been sentenced to forty years here. I understand the charges were various. Using the dark arts, breaking and entering, attempted murder-" Snape found his throat going hard at the last word and slammed his emotions down behind a wall of emptiness. "And that is in addition to your original sentence for fraud that you never completed."

"Give me something!"

"Give me a reason to give you something."

"I..." Kilkenny opened his mouth to yell something but snapped it shut, bringing himself into check. "I'm not young. I may not live forty years."

"Then it is in your best interest to talk, and talk soon." Snape leant forward. "I am loosing patience."

"I... I'll talk." The prisoner hung his head. "I don't really have a choice do I?"

"No."

"Well..." The man rubbed his arm. "You know I worked for Gringots?"

"I was aware."

"You know that I never really worked above the board. Not just skimming off the top, selling secrets too. People'll pay a lot of money to know that Mr so-and-so has almost emptied his account or that some other guy makes regular payments to someone. Businessmen and the like you know? Checking up on their rivals. Investors..."

"I can see how that information could be useful to some." Snape indicated very clearly with his inflection that he was not one of those some.

"Right, right." Kilkenny nodded. "But see when the dark lord found out what I did he got all excited. Well... not excited exactly. He doesn't really get excited but he does this thing where his eyes flash and he hisses a bit. Sometimes his nostrils flair-"

"Mr Kilkenny-"

"Right, right... anyway. He told me to get in touch with some of the people who still worked at Gringots. People in the same line of work as me."

"Go on." Snape was very careful not to let his interest show.

"He got me to check on some things."

"Specifically."

"The activity on certain vaults."

"Specifically."

"Well first he wanted to check up on a vault. Get the records of who had accessed it and when."

"What vault?"

"Sixty three. Deep one."

"Who owns it?"

"Don't know."

"What did the records say?"

"Don't know. Didn't read em."

"You didn't read them?" Snape raised his eyebrows. "An enterprising man like yourself? Always looking for an advantage? Are you trying to tell me you did not even glance at the records before you handed them over?"

"Look I had the dark bloody lord watching my every move!" Kilkenny shuddered. "There's enterprising and then there's just stupid!"

Snape watched the prisoners eyes as he spoke. He could not read his mind but still... Snape had not survived everything he had gone through by being dependent on any one skill. Even without legillimancy he could be reasonably confident as to whether a man was telling the truth. On the other hand, this man had deceived the goblins for years. He would never have survived if he was a bad lier.

"You said you contacted people still at Gringots. What were their name?"

"Well there was only one really..." Kilkenny scratched his head. "Blake Bees, he's in the investment department."

"And he will corroborate your story?"

"Yeah..." Kilkenny twitched.

"What are you not telling me?" Snape asked sharply.

"Goblins found out he lifted the files." Kilkenny slumped. "He's in hiding somewhere. Don't know where."

"Would he know who owned vault sixty three?"

"Well... yeah. He'd have to to get the files."

"Very well." Snape stood. "I will consider this." He turned towards the door.

"Wait!" Kilkenny called out after him. "Don't you want to know about the other thing he asked."

"Other thing?" Snape asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah, he asked me to check up on another vault." Kilkenny said desperately, trying to cash in on every scrap of knowledge. "I know who owned this one. Blake told me because he thought it was weird."

"How so?"

"It was the Lestrange vault." Kilkenny spread his hands. "The Lestranges worked for him. If he'd wanted something out of it he could have just got them to go in and get it."

"What did he wish to know?"

"Just who had accessed it. When I told him that no-one, not even a goblin, had been in it since the Lestranges went to prison years ago he seemed... relieved. Well not relieved exactly. He does this thing with his neck-"

"Mr Kilkenny." Snape cut him off. "Was there anything else?"

"Well... no. I just-"

Snape turned silently and rapped twice on the door. Moody opened it and Snape stepped through. As Snape put his hand on the door to swing it closed the prisoner called out shrilly.

"Please help me out of here!" He wrung his hands. "I've done bad things but I'm not a bad person! He looks at you and you have to do what he says or he'll kill you. I had to! Please. He was too much, I was scared! I was-"

Snape swung the iron slab shut and Kilkenny pathetic cries were shut off suddenly. Snape and Moody were left alone in the darkness. It was a long time before Snape spoke.

"Get him some books." Snape fought bile rising in his gut. "And better food."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said." Snape spun and swept off down the corridor towards the stairs. He had a great deal to think about. With his mind occupied his fingers twitched towards the square patch of scar on his arm.