The Imposter Complex, Chapter 31: The Truth Will Out.
A/N: In honour of all the poor COVIDed people stuck in iso, which now includes myself, I've elected to upload this chapter a couple days earlier than scheduled.
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'Sectumsempra!'
My instincts went into overdrive, and I pivoted on sheer reflex, dodging the unfamiliar curse by a hair's breadth. I whipped around to see Snape, crouched to the right of the door I'd rushed through, his face twisted in a vicious rictus, his wand pointed directly at me.
Without missing a beat, I thrust my hand toward him. Sheer willpower seized Snape by the throat and ripped him across the room into my iron grip. His wand went flying, and his malicious sneer turned into a horrified expression of shock.
I whirled back to face Dumbledore again, dragging Snape with me, just in time to block a petrification hex from Sirius. What the fuck?
I raised my wand, only to shout in surprise as something impossibly cold and incredibly sharp wrapped itself around my arm from behind. It couldn't cut me, but its searing bite was agony.
I twisted, and fired a gout of flame at the empty left corner of the office, from which a silvery dome erupted to stave me off.
I blocked the disembowler that returned at me, and sent Sirius' body-bind curse careening back at him. But even I could not fend off four wizards of this calibre for long. Finally, Dumbledore's spell slipped under my guard and caught me in the shin. Stony, concrete slithered in a thick layer across my whole body, sealing over every part of me except for my head, utterly immobilising me.
Snape fell to the floor, my grasp forced open by the stone. He rasped desperately for breath.
Mad-Eye Moody slid into view on the left hand side of the door as he cast off the hood of an invisibility cloak. Not my one; this one was far lower quality, shimmering as he moved.
'What is this?' I hissed lowly, raising my gaze at the Headmaster, seething rage almost making me slip into Parseltongue. I struggled, but the stone was unbreakable.
Both Sirius and Dumbledore looked back at me with equal vitriol. Mad Eye cheerfully stepped over Snape, and joined them at the desk, looking smugly satisfied. Snape, for his part, just kept gasping haggardly. I may have damaged his oesophagus. I hoped so.
Dumbledore threw Moody a bit of an annoyed look, and stepped over to heal Snape. The man's windpipe uncrushed with a squelching noise, and he took a great breath of relief. He accepted the Headmaster's proffered hand, and got to his feet.
I looked back and forth between the four before me. There was no doubt, no hesitation in their gazes. They knew.
'So you figured it out.' I said quietly. 'and here I'd finally started to think it'd never have to come to light. Tell me, what gave me away?'
They didn't answer me. Snape sneered viciously.
I let out a wordless shout of frustration.
'We don't have time for this!' I said. 'Potter is in danger, weren't you fucking listening?'
'I believe the only person Harry has been endangered by is you.' Dumbledore said coldly.
'No, you don't understand-'
'Was it always you?!' Sirius burst out. 'This whole time, everything we've done? Was it all a lie?!'
'I AM NOT LORD VOLDEMORT!' I shouted at him.
'THE MAP NEVER LIES!' Sirius howled back.
My confusion showed even on my face. 'What fucking map?'
'The Marauder's Map! I told you about it, or was that the real Grey?'
I searched my memories, and remembered with a rush that day at the train station. Oh fuck.
I looked at the parchment on Dumbledore's desk. It was indeed a map, and I could almost see from where I stood, the little dots and words scrawled upon it.
'Alastor, if you would kindly inform Director Bones that her presence is needed immediately.' Dumbledore said severely. 'We have a Dark Lord for her to arrest.'
Moody nodded, but I called out before he could reach the floo.
'Dumbledore, fucking listen to me! Yes, I'm Tom Riddle. I always have been. But I am not Lord Voldemort. I'm just a back-up, he made me at sixteen! Lord Voldemort is still out there, and I need to stop him!'
They didn't believe me. I wouldn't believe me either. Alastor sneered, and stepped into the fire.
'Look, take me prisoner for now. Fine. We can sort our shit out later. But for god's sake, where is Potter?'
Dumbledore looked thunderous at my continued insistence. 'Harry Potter is far from this place. We sent him away from here the moment we learned of your true nature!'
Sent him away? But if not with Dumbledore, and not with Sirius, then...
A chill skittered down my spine.
'Dumbledore, who did you send him away with? Who!'
'That is no longer any of your concern, Tom. Be assured, he is well beyond your reach.'
He turned away from me, and murmured a few words into Sirius' ear. Sirius nodded grimly.
'Was it with McGonagall? Dumbledore! Was it McGonagall? She's Lord Voldemort's agent, she's his man on the inside! She's the Scot!'
But Dumbledore was not listening. Why would he? I had nothing, no proof at all, and all the credibility I'd spent these years accruing had evaporated. Unless...
'Dumbledore, Legilimise me!'
He looked back incredulously, and Snape scoffed wordlessly.
'Legilimise me! You'll see the truth! I'll show you whatever you want to know!'
Dumbledore made a derisive snort, a sound I'd never heard from him before.
'You are a Master Occlumens and Legilimens, Tom. I would be a fool to believe anything your mind had to show me.'
Sirius turned to Dumbledore. 'We should get a warrant out for Garrow Avery too. He's been helping him.'
Dumbledore nodded stoutly. 'I shall raise it with Madam Bones on her arrival.'
I snarled. 'Damn you Sirius, you owe me! I've saved your fucking life a dozen times over! You'd be back in fucking Azkaban if not for me! Why would Lord Voldemort do that?'
That gave the man pause. He looked to Dumbledore with doubt for the first time. Dumbledore looked unmoved.
'I observed much similar behaviour in your school years, Tom. Acts of supposed altruism. Signs that you were learning to love others. Alas, it always came back to benefiting you.'
'Ah, but of course, I've forgotten my place.' I spat. 'The only person in this whole wide godsforsaken world Albus Dumbledore never gave a second chance. You'll give Gellert fucking Grindelwald a bungalow homestead for burning half of Europe but you won't give me five minutes when I'm trying to help you! You gods-damned hypocrite!'
'You are nothing like Gellert, Tom.'
'No, you're absolutely fucking right. Gellert Grindelwald grew up in the loving arms of the Swiss aristocracy, waited on hand and foot before he could even walk!'
I turned my gaze on Sirius, the weak link.
'You wanna know where I grew up, Black? Where I really grew up? In an orphanage. In Southwark. Where I had to fight tooth and nail for everything I ever had, until the day this cunt-' I jerked my head at Dumbledore. '-showed up and decided I was the spawn of all evil for being a little mucked up in the head!'
'You strangled a child's pet and hung it from the rafters!' Dumbledore cried, incensed.
'Because that little fuckpot murdered my only friend!' I roared right back at him.
Dumbledore seemed to almost reel from that revelation.
'What are you talking about? You were children!'
I laughed sourly, humourlessly.
'A ten year old has strength enough to crush a grass snake's skull with a rock, Dumbledore.'
That quieted him very suddenly. The void was immediately filled by Snape, his lip already curling.
'A charmingly constructed sob story, truly artisanal. How very convenient for you that all others involved are long dead and cannot corroborate.'
I spat on the ground, a great big wad of spittle that landed right at his feet. 'When I want your opinion, Snivellus, I'll fucking give it to you.'
Snape raised his wand in anger - much braver now that I couldn't kick his teeth in - but Dumbledore raised his arm to stop him.
'Good doggy.' I sniped as Snape slowly, reluctantly lowered his arm.
'You are hardly in a position to be provoking us, Tom.' Dumbledore said coldly. 'However difficult your childhood may or may not have been, that does not change the fact that you have murdered hundreds, and tormented thousands more. You cannot lay the blame for that at my feet, however you may try.'
I sighed. 'I told you, that wasn't me. I'm just his back-up, he made me when he- I- we were sixteen. I know he turned into a nutter later on, that's why I've been fighting against him!'
'His Horcrux, you mean.' The Headmaster said severely. Fuck.
'I don't know you're talking about.' I responded, pulling on a confused expression. My first lie of the evening. I'd been doing so well.
Dumbledore scowled. 'Hate me if you must Tom, but never take me for a fool.'
He reached into some drawer in his desk, and pulled out- the Diary!
To say it had seen better days was an understatement. The pages looked all stuck together by old water damage - no longer protected from the elements. More notably, a massive gaping hole was rent straight through it, rimmed with ink like crusted blood about a sword wound.
He slammed my destroyed former vessel down on top of his desk with finality.
'Ah.' I said awkwardly. 'Right, Horcrux. I thought that term sounded familiar.'
'Yes I imagine it would.' Dumbledore said acidly. 'I've myself often found that abominations against the sanctity of life stick in my mind rather distinctly.'
'That's a bit dramatic. What's a little major violation of the laws of men and magic between friends?' I tried innocently.
Sirius snorted despite himself. He'd half-grinned at my ripping into Snape before too. I had a foothold.
'You murdered an innocent woman in cold blood and devoured her heart and liver.' Dumbledore said flatly. That sobered Sirius up real quick. 'Do you even remember her name?'
The smirk slid off my face. Of course I did.
'Sandy McKellan.' I said quietly. I pushed away the unexpected emotions that came with it under a layer of Occlumency, replacing them with flippancy. 'I'm surprised you managed to track me that far.'
'Not without trouble.' He replied. 'It took almost a year from the day Harry deposited this vessel upon-'
But whatever Dumbledore was about to say was lost to me, as the metaphysical wall my mind had been leaning on for the last hour - long enough that I'd forgotten I was doing it - abruptly gave way, and the Headmaster's office melted into blackness around me as phantom pain seared across my mind.
:—:
The Cruciatus lasted less than a split-second, but it was more than enough to wake us up. My head - Potter's head hung low, and all I could see through his eyes was his chest, and a dash of gravelly ground.
Damn it Potter, get your shit together and look around you! I thought. Where has she taken you?
The aftereffects of the Cruciatus were still making the boy twitch, but more worryingly were the two radiating points of agony at his wrists, which had us strung up spread-eagle against some rough stone surface.
Whomever's hands Potter was in had a sense of humour.
'He is almost ready for you, my Lord.'
McGonagall's voice, at least it seemed like it. It was a crueller, more malevolent tone than any I had heard the Scottish woman use.
'Whuh?' The boy mumbled. The pain must be stymieing his mind. 'Professor McGonagall?'
There was a high, cold laugh that definitely did not come from McGonagall's throat.
'Voldemort!' The boy breathed, his eyes widening, and I felt his adrenaline surge at the cackle. It was as ice water in his veins.
He looked up - finally! - to see the horror-show that Lord Voldemort had become. I'd already seen it in Pyrites' memory, but that didn't make it any easier to stomach.
My other self looked like a failed abortion that stumbled its way to term. Useless, twisted legs that did nothing to hold up a bloated torso, spindly arms barely strong enough to hold a wand, and the face.
His head looked fully adult, bizarre in contrast with the rest, though just as inhumanly pallid.
His mouth was horrifyingly all by itself, its tips literally stretching from ear to ear. Between its lipless edges, vicious fangs lined its whole width. How he could even talk was beyond me.
His nose was nonexistent, merely two thin slashes where his nostrils should be. They flared grotesquely as he grinned.
His eyes had lost what I had once considered my most idiosyncratic trait, that striking grey-green hue of which I'd always been so proud. The irises were blood red now, and the sclera a deep black.
To his left stood Crouch, grinning maniacally. To his right, a massive, man-sized cauldron. I knew exactly what that was for.
'Harry Potter,' breathed the horror-show sitting across from us. 'We meet once again.'
I could feel Potter's body gearing up to hyperventilate, but he managed to control himself.
I tore my attention from the homunculus, even if Potter could not. His focus made assessing our surroundings difficult, but not impossible.
We were outside, if the frigid, barely-there breeze and dirt ground were any indication. It was dark, and scarcely lit, but I could make out a faint treeline behind Lord Voldemort. It looked like he was sitting on some kind of fallen stone column, but I could not make out details whilst Potter wasn't looking directly at it. There was the faint scent of salt on the air; we weren't too far from the sea.
'Minerva. Bring me his blood.' The Dark Lord crooned.
Potter's gaze shifted to the Transfiguration teacher, eyes widening. Yes Potter, good lad, show me where we are. More stone pillars, some sort of ritual circle. I didn't recognise it.
McGonagall stabbed us in the side without ceremony, the knife sliding easily between Potter's ribs. He shrieked, but I could already tell the wound was not mortal. It seared viciously, but not nearly so badly as at his wrists.
Potter must have thought so as well. His gaze finally snapped over to one of them as McGonagall yanked out the knife and stalked over to Lord Voldemort. I'd been right; his arms had been nailed to the rock with railroad spikes.
He started to wail in fresh horror at the sight. I'd have rolled my eyes if I could. For Merlin's sake, I'd ripped my soul in twain at his age, get over it.
'Professor! Why are you doing this! Why are you helping him?!'
Questions I'd like the answer to as well. But McGonagall merely sneered at us.
Lord Voldemort inspected the blood on the knife carefully, and nodded gleefully.
'Yess, the boy has grown strong enough. Crouch, you may begin.'
Crouch scooped up the homunculus and dumped it into the cauldron with a great splash. The ritual was officially underway.
The Death Eater took the knife from McGonagall in one scarred hand, and stepped over to the cauldron. He produced a long thigh bone from his pocket, and started to wave the two objects over the potion like wands, careful not to drip any of the blood in yet.
He chanted deeply in pseudo-Greek, and I cursed inwardly. We were running out of time. If we were lucky, they'd lifted the bone from one of the graves in Little Hangleton, and Crouch was about to cop a very lethal explosion to the face. If not...
'Bone of the Forefather, unknowingly given, you will renew your afterbear!' The Death Eater declared, and dropped in the bone.
The potion hissed, and roiled, but no explosion came. The liquid turned a deep, cerulean blue. Fuck. Come on Potter, look around you for pity's sake, did Moody teach you nothing at all?
Crouch set the knife to the side, and pulled out his wand. He visibly steeled himself.
'Flesh of the Servant, willing sacrificed, you will revive your master!'
The barest flicker of magic from his wand, and his right arm separated from his body at the shoulder, tumbling into the vat. The potion responded agitatedly, turning blood-red and firing off a shower of furious scarlet sparks that singed the Death Eater's robes. Judging by his reaction, a wide grin, this was a good sign.
He stemmed the gout of blood that poured from his wound in an instant, and moved on to the moment of truth.
'Blood of the Enermy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!'
Crouch cast the knife into the potion, which erupted with such a blinding white light that Potter squeezed his eyes shut, the afterimage seared onto his retinas.
The light went out, replaced by the rush-roar of billowing steam. Potter opened his eyes again. The steam swiftly became a fog, enshrouding our surroundings, I couldn't see a thing.
It'd been ages since I flipped through Herpo's little black book. Was this how the ritual was supposed to go?
Potter's adrenaline spiked again as we both spotted it at the same time. A figure through the fog, backlit by torchlight. A figure looming tall, and inhumanly thin. It gestured, and the fog moved, wrapping itself around him and transfiguring into robes of palest grey.
Its face came into sharp relief, and he grinned a reptilian smile. Lord Voldemort walked the Earth once more. His carmine gaze fell to meet Potter's, and the boy's forehead almost exploded with pain, washing me out of his mind in a tidal wave of agony.
:—:
I came back to myself, shuddering violently in my concrete prison. There were voices around me, though I could scarcely make out what they were saying. An awful lot of shouting was going on.
'-W DO YOU LOSE TRACK OF THE MOST FAMOUS BOY IN EUR-'
'THE HEADMASTER DOES NOT ANSWER TO-'
'-I'VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES, CONSTANT VIGILANCE!'
I cracked my eyes open. The room was a lot more full than when I'd left it. Madam Bones was here, as was Shacklebolt and a man whom, dazed as I was by the forcible ejection from Potter's mind, I thought looked rather a lot like Godric Gryffindor.
I shook the cobwebs from my brain with what little mobility I still had. Ah, I recognised him now, Rufus Scrimgeour, Chief Auror. Shacklebolt's boss.
Snape and Sirius were standing in one corner, looking seconds away from ripping one another's throats out. Bones and Moody stood before Dumbledore's desk, absolutely berating him, with Shacklebolt standing to one side looking awkward.
Scrimgeour, on the other hand, stood quietly in the corner of the office, watching them all. Calculating.
I spoke up, pushing some magic through my vocal cords to make myself heard through the din, despite not raising my own voice.
'May I conclude then that you've finally noticed that McGonagall has absconded with Potter?'
They all turned to me as one, the looks on their faces suggesting they'd quite forgotten I was here. Well, except Moody, of course.
'You... you knew this was going to happen!' Snape seethed, striding forward to shove his wand in my face.
'Of course I did.' I responded coldly. 'That's why I came up here in the first place you blistering idiot, remember?'
Snape opened his mouth for a retort, only for it to turn into a cry of outrage as Sirius shoved him aside.
'What did you see, Tom? In your vision, what did you see?'
'It's too late.' I said quietly. 'Lord Voldemort has returned.'
The brief silence that followed was solid granite. I thanked Merlin that nobody was wasting our time with cries of "Impossible!" or some other trite denial.
'Where are they?' Dumbledore asked.
'Is Harry alive?' Sirius demanded in the same instant.
I shook my head. 'I don't know. A henge somewhere. Not Stonehenge, somewhere forested. Near the sea. Potter was alive when the... vision ended.'
As if on cue, Snape made a strangled sort of yelp, and seized his left forearm. He pulled back the sleeve to reveal his Dark Mark, which not only was restored to its full colour, but positively sizzling against his skin.
'The Dark Lord's summons!' He hissed.
'Where is he summoning you to?' Director Bones demanded immediately.
Snape grit his teeth as the sizzling intensified.
'I'm... not sure. Somewhere north-' His eyes narrowed in recognition. 'North Ronaldsay.'
'North what?' Someone asked, quite reasonably.
'It's - agh! - an island, in Orkney. The Dark Lord had a ritual henge built there for - urk - experiments, during the war. I can take us there now.'
'No.' Dumbledore said immediately. 'No, you will remain here. Give me the co-ordinates.'
The sizzling ceased, and Snape visibly sagged with relief. He looked at Dumbledore with confusion. 'Headmaster?'
'You cannot be seen leading us to them, Severus. If Voldemort were to escape...'
Snape looked very sour. 'Very well.'
The two looked into each other's eyes for a flicker of an instant before Dumbledore turned away.
Director Bones stepped forward. 'Give them to me as well. Rufus and I will return to the Ministry and rally the Aurors.'
Snape nodded stoutly, and did so. Dumbledore gathered Moody, Sirius, and Shacklebolt with him, and prepared to disapparate.
I cried out. 'Wait! What about me?'
Dumbledore looked at me still with mistrust in his eyes. 'We shall deal with you on our return. Severus, guard him.'
Snape sneered, but didn't object. Dumbledore raised his wand to me once more.
The stony flat plates sliding up to encase my head. The last thing I saw before my shouted protests became sealed off from the outside world was Dumbledore and Bones exchanging a few final words.
I snarled in the darkness. Damn it all, they fucking needed me out there, those wankers!
I muttered a nonsense sentence in Hungarian, and felt the tiny stud I'd implanted imperceptibly beneath my collarbone warm briefly. Assuming the signal was not somehow blocked, the identical stud I had alchemically linked it to would have warmed just the same in my cellar.
My contingency enchantments would activate, sealing off anyone short of a trained Curse-Breaker from finding or breaking into my most important sanctum. Even then, it should take some time, I'd learned more than a few tricks off the Delacours in the last few months…
I then closed my eyes, and did the only other thing I could. I sought out the connection to Potter's mind once more.
Come on Harry. Don't be dead.
:—:
Thoom!
The earth to the left of us exploded upwards, coating Potter in a splatter of ice-cold mud. He threw himself behind one of the stone pillars that made up the ritual henge, swearing violently.
Above us, that high, cold laugh rang out again.
'Yes Potter, dance! Dance for us before you die! Confringo!'
Another explosion of sod, this time on our left. A pebble slammed hard into Potter's glasses, right in front of his eye. He cried out in terror, but the glass held. Magically reinforced. Boy must have gotten sick of fixing them.
We were surrounded on all sides, a ring of Death Eaters looking menacing indeed in their black hoods and masks. High above, Lord Voldemort cavorted through the air, peppering us with curses.
Potter had apparently had enough, taking aim at the Dark Lord.
'Expelliarmus!' He cried valiantly. Wait. Seriously?
Lord Voldemort clearly had the same reaction I did, slapping away the charm as an afterthought. His bemused expression shifted into insulted, and he expressed it.
'Crucio!'
This time, I was fast enough to shield myself from the boy's agony, as he wailed and writhed on the damp ground. The Dark Lord let up quickly though. He didn't want his fun to be over.
He began to monologue, chanting out his own praises to his followers. Potter finally stopped twitching, and started to crawl weakly away, dragging himself along his belly.
The boy looked up, and his gaze met for a bare instant with one of the Death Eaters in the circle. I knew those grey eyes. Avery.
Garrow made a little motion with his wand. It was likely imperceptible to anyone not looking directly at him, but I saw it. I felt a hard little lump suddenly appear in Potter's pocket.
I didn't know what it was but I could guess. Well done Gary!
But Potter wasn't going for it. Damnit boy, what are you waiting for, a bleeding invitation?
A sound like a cannon going off rumbled across the entire arena, commanding the attention of everyone in an instant. On the far side from us, half a dozen Death Eaters went flying from the sonic boom as Albus Dumbledore, finally, appeared on the field. He and his cohort stood wands out, ready for combat.
All was still for a long second. Lord Voldemort actually froze up for a bare instant, suspended in the sky. Then his shocked expression twisted into a snarl.
'KILL THEM!' He shrieked, and fired off a Killing Curse at Dumbledore. The Death Eaters roared, and the battle was joined.
But I missed what happened next, because suddenly Lord Voldemort was right in our face. He seized Potter by the throat - not being burned at the touch, to my shock - and lifted us bodily, slamming us into a stone pillar.
'I will not be denied!' He hissed in Parseltongue, forked tongue practically striking Potter's face. His impossibly wide maw stretched open further than any man's could - by the gods he meant to rip our throat out with his own teeth!
'Flipendo!' Potter cried, and I could feel him shove as much power into the knockback jinx as he could. At point blank range, Lord Voldemort had no opportunity to block.
The Dark Lord was sent hurtling backwards with a howl of purest fury. I felt his clawed fingers carve deep furrows in our neck as they were ripped away, and we fell to the ground. Potter shoved his hand into his pocket, finally, and seized the object within.
In an instant, everything around us dissolved into a whirlwind of light and rushing air, which was banished just as quickly as we slammed down onto hard cobblestones.
Potter groaned lowly. I could feel the blood trickling from his neck down to pitter-patter on the stones, but it didn't feel like a fatal wound.
He dragged himself to his feet, looking around cautiously. We were in Diagon Alley, though it took a moment for me to recognise it. I'd never actually been here after all the shops were shut.
Potter stumbled down the alley, swaying noticeably, through the stone archway and into the Leaky Cauldron. The pub was quiet this time of night, but there were still a few patrons.
Nobody paid us any mind until Potter collapsed onto the bar. The barkeep - another Tom - looked up sharply and cried out in surprise at the state of him. That got the attention of the rest of the room.
'Does anyone know where I can find a healer?' Potter mumbled, and then darkness enveloped us.
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A/N: Don't forget to leave a review.
