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Chapter 44
May 2nd
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.•° ✿ °•.
Content warning: quite a bit of murder, blood, etc.
°•. ✿ .•°
TOM FROWNED AT the place where Marina had just vanished. Her expression had been very curious indeed, a wide-eyed panic mixed with reckless resolve. Something about it made him feel uneasy; she'd been behaving strangely for the entire duration of the farewell, but that final moment had been exceptionally odd.
It made him wonder. Marina knew things, after all.
He turned away dismissively and lifted his wand again. Whatever it had been would have to wait until their next meeting, he rationalised, since he couldn't ask her to clarify there was very little to be gained from dwelling on it until then.
Riddle House vanished from around him and gave way to the sharp bite of a clear, cool night, the cloudless sky bright despite the waning moon. Insects whistled apprehensively from the distant trees, and a ghostly peacock wailed at his sudden appearance. Malfoy Manor lay ahead, jutting up against the sky and flanked by a vast expanse of lavish gardens and grounds that Tom had never once seen anyone actually use. The house itself was composed of near-seamless stone bricks and hard angles, stretching skywards just to leer back down at him.
Tom thought it looked like a gravestone.
He deftly stowed his wand as he made his way up the long gravel drive, his mood souring considerably with each step; it was a grim alternative to what he had left behind in Riddle House. Tom frowned again as he forcibly diverted his thoughts away from the evening he had spent with Marina, inexorably aware that making himself stop once he had started would be no mean task.
The inside of Malfoy Manor was silent and shadowed, save for a few candles flickering in silver fixtures on the walls, the lights glistened on the metal as if each an eye, watching him as he quietly wound his way through the corridors. He felt the latent chill of the place settling against his skin, his expression freezing into a rigid mask. He was well-practised at submerging his inner thoughts, reducing them to a current moving far beneath a thick, frigid layer of composure, unable to be sensed at the surface.
The dark wooden door of the drawing room swung open as Tom approached and he stepped without hesitation into the delicate silence within. Every heavy, lavish chair positioned at the ornately carved table was empty, save for one – the significantly more opulent chair at the end of the table directly in front of the fireplace was occupied by a tall, black-robed figure with a waxen, pale face fixed in an aloof, inimical fleer, whose eyes gleamed red even at a distance. Tom's stomach twisted. The face disgusted him as much now as the first time he had seen it.
"Tom," Voldemort said softly, waving a white, long-fingered hand at the seat directly to his right. "Come."
Swallowing his revulsion, Tom stepped forward and took his place at Voldemort's side, watching the figure closely. This close, he could see the distorted, inhuman features with even greater clarity, and far beneath his composure, the disgust roiled again. Not for the first time did he wonder how he had ever been on a path that led him to become such a thing.
"What news from the Ministry?" Voldemort asked, steepling his fingers before him. For the briefest second, the action almost reminded Tom of Dumbledore.
"The Muggle world remains ignorant of the true nature of the war," Tom replied calmly, "but there appears to be a growing contingent of Muggle sympathisers among our enemies who are attempting to spread the truth to the Muggle media… at present they are ignored as conspiracy theorists and eccentrics, but if the efforts continue…"
"I will have Yaxley see to it that this group is identified and dealt with."
Tom nodded once in silence.
Voldemort gave a mockery of a smile. "Well done, Tom… your proficiency liaising with the Ministry certainly rings with a particular irony…"
Tom's lips flickered in a dispassionate smile of his own. He did not think that this was the exact arrangement that Slughorn had envisioned when he'd told him to consider a future in politics.
"The others are summoned," Voldemort said disinterestedly. Tom made to stand but Voldemort's sharp command cut him off. "Stay, Tom, I wish for your presence."
He slowly sat back down, apprehension hidden from his face. Voldemort was hardly secretive with him, but rarely was he involved in the proceedings of the Death Eaters. It did not take long before nearly all of the seats at the table were filled by the leering faces of the Death Eaters, all casting curious glances in Tom's direction, clearly sharing his own sentiments about his attendance, though none reacted so strongly as –
"Ah, Severus," Voldemort said calmly.
Snape's eyes fell upon Tom at once, and even at a distance, he could see that the man's mouth twisted unpleasantly at the sight of him. Tom withheld a smirk. Clearly, usurping Snape's prized position at Voldemort's right had garnered some resentment.
"My Lord," Snape said coolly. He was forced to instead take the seat next to Tom, who took the opportunity to lazily rest his arm on the table as he leisurely leaned back in his chair. In the corner of his eye, he watched Snape's expression turn even uglier.
"Master Riddle," Snape said quietly. "What a pleasant surprise… I had not expected you to be in attendance."
"Tom is here on my bidding, Severus," Voldemort said sharply.
Snape inclined his head at once. "Of course, my Lord."
Voldemort's narrowed eyes lingered on Snape's face for a moment longer, and then swept across the other Death Eaters. "There can be no uncertainly as to why I have called you here this evening," he said in near whisper.
No one dared speak a word.
"The boy." Voldemort's voice had turned very cold.
There was yet more silence, and Voldemort's eyes flashed. "Severus, you are quite sure he has not tried to contact any of his friends?" he demanded.
"Yes, my Lord, we have placed protections on the grounds and the surrounding village, as well as –"
"And he has not been seen again by Scabior?" Voldemort interrupted, his crimson eyes darting to Bellatrix opposite Tom.
"No, my Lord," she said in a breathy voice, leaning forward eagerly. "None of his men have reported –"
"We must take one of his friends," Voldemort said curtly, "he will come for them if they are in danger, I am sure of it. Severus, who of his close circle remain at the school?"
"His most loyal are in hiding, my Lord," Snape said quietly, "somewhere in the castle from what we can tell, but –"
"Find them."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good," Voldemort leaned back in his chair. "That you let him slip through your fingers still… displeases me." Voldemort's eyes fell on Lucius Malfoy, who visibly shrank under the scrutiny. "No matter," he said softly, his gaze still on the cowering man like he was savouring the reaction, "I am sure you understand the importance of retrieving him…"
By the time Voldemort was satisfied with his acolytes' reports and vanished into the depths of his chambers, the sky had turned cloudy and the moonlight had long since been smothered by the cover.
"Master Riddle."
Tom paused before the door, swallowing his annoyance at both the interruption and the voice that had presented it. He turned, apathetic expression in place as the other Death Eaters passed him by.
"Severus," he said, raising his jaw a millimetre. He did not have time to waste on Snape, he had just learned that Voldemort planned on sending Nagini on some private reconnaissance mission and was determined to figure out where. There was the chance that he could corner her if she was separated from Voldemort and the others, a chance that he could figure out a way to –
"I hope you did not misunderstand me earlier," Snape said softly, peering down his hooked nose, "it is just that you are always so busy, Master Riddle, I had thought that you would instead be off on one of your…" Snape paused languidly as if searching for the most deprecating word possible. His lips twitched, clearly having settled on one. "Adventures."
Tom's eyes narrowed but before he could reply, Bellatrix's throaty, rasping voice interrupted them
"Careful, Severus," she barked, her expression hostile and her posture almost predatory. Tom had the distinct mental image of her leaping forward and tearing Snape limb from limb. "You forget yourself," she breathed, "Master Riddle is the Dark Lord's heir."
Snape looked at her impassively for a moment, and then returned his gaze to Tom. He inclined his head. "My apologies, Master Riddle, no offence was meant."
"Of course," Tom said softly, "I can hardly blame you for not understanding the purpose of my travels, Severus, the Dark Lord is particularly selective with whom he trusts with that information, after all."
Snape's gaze hardened, and Tom allowed the faintest of smirks to break on his face. Bellatrix sneered in amusement and vanished out the door after Dolohov, leaving Tom and Snape alone in the dark drawing room.
"I do not wish there to be any ill between us, Master Riddle," Snape said icily. "Forgive me for our little… disagreement."
"Not at all," Tom smiled coolly, "now if you'll excuse me –"
"Alecto and her brother continue to raise chaos at the school," Snape interrupted as if he had not heard him at all. Irritation flickered in Tom's chest. "If the Dark Lord intends for the next generation of witches and wizards to be able to hold themselves in a duel for more than a few seconds, he may have to reconsider their appointments as Professors."
Tom hesitated, his eyes scouring Snape's face as suspicion and curiosity battled for dominance at the comment. It was a dangerous thing to imply that Voldemort had made any sort of oversight. "Is that so?" he said quietly.
"You yourself were once interested in teaching, were you not?" Snape drawled, looking around the empty drawing room with an expression approaching boredom.
"I was," Tom said carefully.
"Perhaps you might consider offering your services," Snape said with a slight curl to his lips, "you would certainly fill the Dark Arts role with a modicum more finesse than Amycus."
Tom stared at him, wondering if he could get away with glancing into the man's thoughts, ascertain some sort of potential motive for the mystifying and wholly unexpected offer – but no, Snape was an accomplished Occlumens himself –
Snape just inclined his head again and strolled past Tom through the door, his black robes flowing behind him.
"That still leaves a Carrow in your school, Severus," Tom called sharply, suspicions unassuaged, "unless you have also discerned a candidate for the Muggle Studies position."
Snape paused and looked back at him. "Do you have someone in mind?" he said in a delicate tone.
Tom snorted with an appropriate level of disgust at the implication. "An expert in Muggle Studies?" he asked derisively.
Snape's gaze was unflinching. "Oh I have every confidence that you would be capable of finding such an expert among your acquaintance, Master Riddle," he said smoothly.
Beneath his composure, Tom's blood ran cold. He couldn't be meaning… he couldn't know about…
Snape only gave him the same apathetic twitch of his lips and turned, leaving Tom staring after him as he melted into the darkness of the hallway. He wondered if he could have missed a Legilimens attack, if his mind had wandered during the meeting, if he'd let his thoughts drift towards her… But no, surely he was just being paranoid. There was no way that he had been so careless, and Snape's comment could be unrelated, a coincidence, an unlucky choice of words…
Tom's jaw tightened as he followed Snape from the room, trying to dispel the sickening suspicion swelling in his stomach that somehow, impossibly, Snape knew about Marina.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Days later, Tom very carefully shut the door to the cellar behind him, a restrained motion as he smothered the desire to slam the thing as hard as he could. His breath felt brittle and shallow as he took numb, controlled steps down the hall. The man's screams had been instantly snuffed out by the silencing charms, but still they echoed in his head where they would likely remain for some time.
It was always worse when he recognised them. Or rather, when they recognised him. The man had worked in Diagon Alley in a small but popular café across from Ollivanders. Tom had once seen him catch a group of students pilfering popping candies from the jar on the counter, and the man had made them eat enough of the things to make orange and yellow sparks shoot out of their noses. He'd caught Tom's eye, who had been watching from the wand shop window. He'd winked playfully.
He would be dead by the morning.
Tom set his jaw as he retreated to his chambers on the uppermost floor of the Manor, resisting the urge to break into a faster pace. Such haste would only garner suspicion.
Not a word had been breathed in his direction as to where Nagini could be, and Voldemort was still so preoccupied with experimenting with the Elder Wand that Tom had barely had a chance to speak with him. He was no closer to learning how he might draw out Voldemort's soul than he was the week before, or the week before that, and he was growing desperate. Tom could feel the panic closing in on him as the inevitability of the truth pressed in from all sides, trying to hold it back with increasingly feeble attempts at hope.
Tom let out a long breath as the door to his chambers finally swung shut behind him and sank into the armchair by the fireplace in the south side of his room, his eyes closing as he let his head fall back against the seat. Exhaustion and desperation ached hard in his chest. It certainly did not help that it had been more a week since he'd seen Marina last, hardly the longest absence he'd endured, but it felt different this time, like the days exacting a heavier toll on him. He felt cold in the very core of his body.
Tom lifted a leaden hand and drew the Galleon from his pocket, the one he could use to contact Marina if he so chose. He turned it over in his long fingers and watching the firelight gleam on its golden surface.
It was so tempting.
The thought of seeing her again felt like looking up from the bottom of a cold lake at the web of dancing light at the surface; enticing, nearly irresistible, the promise of a place where he could breathe again, feel warm again, escape the crushing pressure of the water around him. His mind raced back to their last meeting and the things she'd told him, the things he'd told her, the way she'd touched him afterwards.
It had scared him the first time she'd touched him like that – her fingers brushing his cheek that Christmas Eve, so lightly that he'd felt like shivering. It was the same when she would card her fingers through his hair, or press her lips gently to his skin – but that was the way she always touched him; carefully, reverently, like he was something precious.
He'd never been touched like that before. How good it had felt had taken him by surprise, so good that it had wiped the tension from his body and turned his mind blank. He'd not stopped craving it since.
It was foolish to start dwelling on Marina but he couldn't help it. His thoughts spiralled, sank into a self-indulgent slew of memories, the most preponderant of which were those of their most recent meeting and the feeling of her pressed against him on the couch, her soft hair between his fingers and her warm skin beneath his lips, the trepidation he couldn't shake when he was with her, the hunger he couldn't sate, the sounds she would make when he touched her, the heat –
Tom grit his teeth and glancing over at the sliver of space beneath his door. A shadow moved there, a figure slipping away silently.
Voldemort had him watched sometimes, guarded, another Horcrux locked up deep within a vault, hidden beneath the floorboards, sequestered away in a secret cave. Tom suddenly thought of the little cardboard box he'd kept hidden in the bottom of his closet at Wool's, filled with trophies from the torments he'd inflicted upon the other orphans, prizes that he'd collected. It was almost ironic that he'd become one himself.
Tom slipped the coin back into his pocket and let out a long, slow breath as his head fell back against the chair again.
"I'm going to miss you…"
His lips pressed together firmly. It had been such a bad idea to start this with her, it made everything harder, the time pass slower, the costs steeper, the pain deeper. The fire crackled and spat quietly before him like it was afraid of drawing his attention as he stared blankly at the ornate chandelier and silver-gilded ceiling above him.
"That's how you make me feel… like I'm home."
Maybe he'd regret it, if it didn't feel so good.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Tom lowered the text he'd been pouring over for the past two days, a faded, battered book with peeling gold lettering on the front reading Aglæccræft ond Balocræft. It contained some of the foulest and most despicable magic that he had ever heard of, which was no mean endorsement coming from him; though soul-capturing and soul-stealing invocations were most conspicuously absent from its yellowed pages.
His attention had, however, been captured by something strange, and he frowned at the door to the Manor's library. He could hear movement, quickened steps and hushed voices, and somewhere in the distance of the great house came a long, anguished cry of pain. Tom snapped the book shut and was out into the corridor the next second, catching sight of someone swiftly hurrying past.
"Antonin," Tom said sharply, "what's going on?"
Dolohov's left arm twitched as he hastened down the hallway, barely glancing in Tom's direction. "The Dark Lord summons us," he muttered.
Tom followed at once, too unnerved by the terror in Dolohov's eyes to reprimand him for his insolent address. In the main hall he found more Death Eaters striding quickly towards the drawing room, their faces drawn and nervous. Something was happening. Far beneath Tom's icy mask, anxiety stirred. Had Voldemort finally discovered him? Had his time finally come?
His fears were only somewhat assuaged upon entering the drawing room and his eyes fell upon the figure kneeling before Voldemort, a tiny, cowering goblin behind whom the Death Eaters were gathered. Tom came to a stop at Voldemort's side, clasping his hands behind his back as he assessed the goblin impassively; the beady, black eyes held no cunning spark now, fixed on the ground in terror, pale lips visibly trembling.
"Speak," Voldemort commanded in a cold whisper. "Why has Bellatrix brought you here, goblin?"
"My Lord," the goblin stammered, hands pressed together as if in prayer, "m-my Lord, I bring… terrible n-news… there h-has been an attack, my Lord, th-they broke into the Lestrange v-vault –"
Tom's heart leapt as Voldemort's eyes narrowed and a sound like metal groaning under pressure reverberated around the room. The goblin cowered, his hands trembling as he dipped his head.
"What did you say to me?" Voldemort breathed.
But the goblin was shaking too much to answer. Tom stared down at him witheringly in accordance with Voldemort's obvious displeasure, but his thoughts were racing – Hufflepuff's cup, the last Horcrux, Marina's allusions –
"Say it again," Voldemort said with deceptive softness, "say it again!"
"M-my Lord, m-my Lord... we t-tried to s-stop them... Im-impostors, my Lord... broke-broke into the – into the Lestranges' vault..."
"Impostors?" Voldemort repeated, voice suddenly razor-sharp. "What impostors? I thought Gringotts had ways of revealing impostors? Who were they?"
"It was... it was... the P-Potter b-boy and the t-two accomplices..."
"And they took?" demanded Voldemort, stepping closer to the trembling goblin who was yet to lift his eyes from the floor, but Tom knew. Tom knew what they had taken, that this was the last moment before Voldemort knew of the attack on his Horcruxes, that his desperate line of defence against death had been discovered – "Tell me! What did they take?"
"A... a s-small golden c-cup m-my Lord..."
Voldemort's rage was immediate and deadly, his screams mingling with the cries of terror and agony as the Elder Wand wrought his fury upon those before him. The goblin was the first, and the Death Eaters who were not quick enough to flee were next, all swept away in the wave of his indiscriminate wrath. Tom quickly backed away, watching the bodies fall in horror as the room flashed brilliant green again and again, as curses split skin and tore bone, and the smell of blood hung thick in the air by the time that Voldemort finally stilled.
But he did not remain still for long. Voldemort rounded on Tom, pointing the Elder Wand at his chest. "You," Voldemort whispered.
Tom did not reply, his heart beating fast and shallow as he stared at the wand aimed at him and the twisted, white face of the figure wielding it.
"You must not leave this house," breathed Voldemort, stepping towards him with a frenzied look of fear in his eyes and leaving bloodied footprints behind him. "You will not leave, do you understand me?"
Relief swept through him. "Yes, my Lord," Tom said calmly.
Voldemort turned and began to pace before the bodies littering the ground, blood seeping from their ears and noses, from cuts and gaping wounds in their flesh. "They have the cup…" Voldemort whispered. "They know of the Horcruxes… surely this is Dumbledore's work, Dumbledore who always saw…"
Voldemort paused and then swivelled back to Tom, red eyes wide. "You never told him of your true nature?" he demanded sharply, "you never mentioned that there might be the others?"
"Never, my Lord," Tom lied, frowning.
"But he suspected?" Voldemort pressed, fingers visibly tightening on the Elder Wand.
"He always posited that you had delved into dark, unknown magic, my Lord, but he never mentioned any specifics to me," Tom said evenly, allowing concordant memories to flicker at his mind's surface where Voldemort might see them if he glimpsed into his thoughts.
Voldemort surveyed him for a moment, and then turned away again, evidently satisfied. "The boy cannot have destroyed it yet," he said coldly, resuming his pacing, blood staining his pale, bare feet. "I would have felt it, surely, and he cannot have a weapon powerful enough to accomplish such a feat… but I must check on the others…"
Tom blinked unaffectedly. He and Dumbledore had long since replaced the empty Horcruxes where Voldemort had once hidden them, but there was a chance that Voldemort would feel the difference, feel the absence of his soul in those treasures when he touched them just as Tom could, that he would realise the truth, that he might begin to suspect that Tom had something to do with –
"No one knew of the Gaunts," Voldemort murmured, "and no one could know of the cave… unless Dumbledore made the connection, unless…"
Voldemort's red eyes lingered once again on Tom's face, seeming undecided in how much suspicion should be levied upon him.
"I will double the protections on the others," Voldemort said coolly, casting an impassive eye over the corpses around him. "The ring first, it was always the least secure of my hiding places… and the cave, since Dumbledore knew of my history with the orphanage… the diadem at least is safe, since the boy cannot enter Hogwarts without detection." Voldemort's lips curved into an ugly scowl. "It was foolish to trust Bellatrix and Malfoy with such a responsibility… I will not make the mistake again."
Voldemort turned to him once more, drawing taller, Elder Wand brandished in his skeletal hand, and for a fleeting moment, Tom once more suspected that he might strike him. "I will take Nagini," Voldemort murmured, "you must warn Snape that the boy might try to enter the school, Tom, tell him that I will be there soon…"
Without another word, Voldemort strode from the room.
Tom exhaled, heart still beating hard. He didn't have much time, there was a very good chance that in mere minutes, Voldemort would know that his Horcruxes had been reduced back to mere artefacts, and Tom's veneer of veracity was finally broken. He tore from the room, mind whirring. Voldemort was going to Hogwarts, and he thought that Potter would attempt to go there too – though the boy had no reason to go there, the diadem having long since been reclaimed.
But if Voldemort was about to learn that his Horcruxes had been dismantled and Potter had finally stolen the cup, was this it? Was this the last moment before –
Tom froze.
The lavish corridor seemed to swirl before him.
Suddenly, Marina's strange behaviour in Riddle House had a very different, very disturbing explanation.
She'd said that things hadn't changed much from what had happened in her books. She'd only started acting strangely once he'd told her that it would be at least two weeks before he could see her again. And what had she said, that day they'd fought about Hufflepuff's cup?
"What are we even doing, then? Waiting around for shit to hit the fan? For Harry to show up and start slinging spells at You-Know-Who so we know the final showdown's about to begin?"
Had it been one of her jokes? Or slip of the tongue?
Marina's stricken expression in Riddle House swam before his eyes.
"I'm going to miss you."
And all at once, Tom knew.
He knew that the final battle was about to begin. It was finally upon him and he still hadn't found a way to draw out Voldemort's soul, which meant…
He was about to die.
A tempest of emotions wracked Tom's body as he beelined for his chambers. What was worse? The fact that he had failed to find a way to prevent his own death, or the fact that Marina had concealed its imminence from him? That it had been their final meeting, and he hadn't even realised? Or perhaps the impossible reality that he would likely never see her again, that he was going to die without even having said goodbye? That she'd known and she hadn't said a word?
The lack of answers infuriated him further and Tom angrily told himself that if the battle really had come at last, that it was certainly not the time to anguish over such frivolities as the machinations of a petty, ridiculous romance –
"Master Riddle!"
Tom wheeled around. "What?" he snarled.
Bellatrix faltered. "What is his word?" she asked slowly, peering at him. "What commands from the Dark Lord?"
"He is enacting precautions," Tom snapped, giving her a very cold look that made her take a deferential step back. "We must alert Severus that the boy may attempt to enter the school."
"I will do so," Bellatrix said quickly.
Tom nodded curtly. "He is displeased, Bellatrix," he couldn't resist adding, the unbearable storm of emotion in his chest seeping out and turning his tone to ice.
Bellatrix's eyes widened in fear, but before she could speak, Tom turned from her and resumed his trek to his chambers. He couldn't think of a reason that Potter would go to Hogwarts, but if the final confrontation was soon to begin, it seemed as likely a battleground as any. He stalked into his chambers and slammed the door hard behind him, not bothering to uphold his act of composure – it would only be interpreted as anger at the robbery of Gringotts, anyway.
Tom let out a single, humourless laugh to the empty room. Suddenly, Marina's insistence that they might have a chance at breaking into the place made a lot more sense too, considering that she'd evidently known that exactly such a thing could come to pass.
He crossed the room in five long strides and seized a small, golden trinket from his mantelpiece – Marina's Wardore. It didn't matter if anyone noticed that it was missing now. Shoving it into his pocket, Tom's fingers brushed the Galleon. He hesitated.
Should he call on her? Would it be too risky? Voldemort was bound to have someone watching him, someone making sure he stayed where he should be –
The door that he'd just slammed suddenly burst open.
"Master Riddle," gasped Lucius Malfoy, "the Potter boy – the alarm was triggered – he is at Hogsmeade –"
Tom stared at the ashen-faced man in disbelief. Why? Why would he go there if he knows that the diadem –
But yet another realisation struck him hard. Potter could see into Voldemort's mind, he might already know of Voldemort's intention to check on the Horcruxes, that he intended to go to Hogwarts. Potter's friends were there, his allies, and Voldemort's fury would be levied upon all if he discovered that his Horcruxes had been dismantled.
"Go," Tom bit out, "take the others and go, the Dark Lord will be at the school soon."
Malfoy's expression flickered with uncertainty. "And – and you, Master Riddle?"
Tom scowled and turned away. "I am bidden to remain here."
"Remain here? You will not be accompanying –?"
"Would you have me disobey the Dark Lord, Malfoy?" Tom hissed, rounding on him.
Malfoy baulked. "N-no, Master Riddle, of course not –"
"I said go," Tom interrupted coldly.
Malfoy nodded and stumbled quickly from the room in his haste to obey. Tom glared after him a moment and then wrenched the Galleon from his pocket. Uncertainty joined the other waves of emotion crashing in his chest as he stared at it, wondering if he should call her, if he could even get away without being detected after being expressly ordered to stay put, if he even wanted to talk to her after what she'd kept from him –
Distantly he could hear the cracks of Death Eaters Apparating at the edge of the long driveway. He needed to make a decision. Quickly.
Slipping the coin back into his pocket, Tom took a handful of Floo Powder from the crystal bowl on the mantelpiece and threw it into the hearth. Nothing happened. His jaw tensed and he let out an annoyed breath. The connection to the Floo Network had been severed, meaning that he'd have to leave Malfoy Manor undetected in order to Apparate, a highly improbable accomplishment given that Voldemort likely had Death Eaters stationed at every entrance to guard him.
The time had come then. There was no use delaying any longer. Tom lifted his wand and wordlessly summoned the long-hidden phial that he and Dumbledore had stashed away, a little glass bottle inside of which was a single, long, white-blond hair.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
The flask of Polyjuice Potion took time to find, hidden deep in the Malfoys' potions stores under several extremely complex warding charms that had even Tom struggling to break them – but he had it. He stole back up the stairs and into the hallway, making his way through to the entrance hall and almost immediately being spotted.
"I've been looking for you, Master Riddle," Mulciber said loudly from the other side of the hall, quickly approaching. "Thought you'd run off!"
"Run off?" Tom repeated, eyes narrowing. "I don't think I like what you're implying, Mulciber."
The pale, weedy man's demeanour immediately shifted into something much more nervous. "I'll accompany you to your room, then," he mumbled.
Tom scoffed but allowed Mulciber to sheepishly trail behind him up to his chambers, shutting the door right in Mulciber's face.
Placing the flask of Polyjuice Potion on the little table by the fireplace, Tom quickly withdrew the glass phial and uncorked it, using his wand to lift the bright blond hair from inside and carefully guiding it into the potion; it immediately began to fizz and bubble and Tom peered inside apprehensively. It was not a very large flask. He doubted that he'd have much more than an hour before the potion lost its effects.
Tom cast one last glance over his shoulder at the door where Mulciber was likely still sculking. He grimaced, rapidly assessing his possible courses of action, considered waiting for the man to leave…
But he had already wasted too much time, and there was only so long before Voldemort would hear of Potter's arrival at Hogsmeade and turn his attention to the school. Tom lifted the flask and swallowed the entire contents in one, suppressing a cough at the foul taste of the lumpy, fetid liquid. Immediately his skin was melting and boiling around him, and he only just managed to keep his presence of mind long enough to cast a quick muffling charm at the door to stop Mulciber from hearing his rapid breathing.
An agonising moment later, the heat faded and he pushed himself up from where he'd fallen to his forearms on the floor. He noticed his hands first, now thin and narrow with Narcissa's long, oval nails and skin paler than even his own. The hair was next, falling over his shoulders in a long, white sheet. Tom stood slightly shakily and took a stabilising breath, drawing his wand and rounding on the door. He did not have long.
With a flick of his wand, the door sprang open and Mulciber glanced around in surprise, barely having time to look confused at Narcissa's sudden appearance before Tom had Stunned him. His body hadn't even hit the parquet floor before Tom sent it sliding into his chambers and locked the door behind him. He kept his wand in his hand as he fluidly made his way down the hall, passing several Death Eaters on his way and trying not to hold his breath each time. He'd not had time to adjust his appearance but hopefully, no one would notice that his Death Eater robes were falling a little too loosely on Narcissa's much narrower frame, or the good inch that was trailing on the ground at her slightly shorter stature.
Steeling himself, Tom rounded the corner and began to cross the extravagant entrance hall, giving a slight nod to the two Death Eaters by the door as he strode past – but the Death Eaters just nodded back and resumed their slightly bored surveillance of the hall. Tom exhaled slowly as the gravel crunched underfoot, eyes fixed on the edge of the drive before him, when finally, finally –
He Apparated the second he crossed the boundary and the world twisted before settling into a sight as achingly familiar as it was jarring to see again – the tiny, cramped room above Tomes and Scrolls where Marina had once lived. He stared at the darkened, quiet room for a moment, his eyes lingering on the rickety wooden seat at the desk by the window.
Tom's brow suddenly furrowed. The ash from the hearth spilled across the floor in a messy smear and he could see small footprints leading from it to the door beside him. Someone had very recently stepped through the fireplace. Someone who had to have already known about the room, who could not Apparate and had to use the Floo network instead. Someone who, just like him, would have been told to stay hidden and safe, would have been left behind, and would have stubbornly found another way to get to Hogwarts anyway.
Tom's heart dropped as he turned sharply and took the narrow stairs down to the bookshop two at a time. From the window he could see Death Eaters patrolling the street in droves, clearly still hunting for Potter, but he threw the door open without a moment's hesitation, no longer caring about setting off the alarms.
A deafening, piercing wail shattered the night and the Death Eaters wheeled around with their wands raised. Tom deflected their onslaught of curses with an elegant flick of his wand. "Step aside," he commanded in Narcissa's high, clear voice over the Caterwauling Charm. "You will lower your wands this instant."
They faltered. "Narcissa… what a surprise," the first muttered as he waved his wand and silencing the charm – though he did not look appeased, still peering at Tom suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"
Tom thought quickly. "The Dark Lord will be at the school soon," he breathed, looking up at the glittering castle standing high against the star-strewn sky. "He commands us to his side."
"He's coming here?" the second Death Eater demanded. "Why?"
Tom fixed them with a derisive look. "He did not see fit to inform you of his plans, then," he said softly, "I see…"
The Death Eaters shifted uneasily, shooting each other sideways glances. "Why have you come alone, Narcissa?" one of them asked suspiciously, "where are –"
"I know that you are preparing to fight."
Tom froze and the Death Eaters looked around in a panic as Voldemort's voice rang impossibly loudly around the valley, down the streets of Hogsmeade, resonating in every corner –
"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."
Tom's jaw tensed. It was impossible, but it was happening, Voldemort was here and he had to know, he had to know that the Horcruxes were gone –
"Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight."
Tom strode forward the moment voice quelled, bypassing the stricken Death Eaters without another glance. "Out of my way," he sneered. This time they didn't bother challenging him, falling into step behind him instead and following him up towards the castle.
The journey was agonising, each step drawing him closer but too slow, too slow, his skin starting to prickle as they made their way up the broad stone steps. Tom sped up, the sounds of battle already audible from the bottom of the hill with flashes of bright light and cries and shouts echoing alongside them. The battle had already begun.
As they approached, the cacophony only became more deafening and the scene before him drew clearer – swarms of Death Eaters were storming the front of the school as huge waves of a dark curse coursed over the stone walls, the entire castle trembling under its force. The doors to the school had been blasted open and the Death Eaters were pouring inside, curses flying thick and fast.
A thunderous roar split the night as the side of the castle suddenly exploded, chunks of stone the size of houses flung into the sky. Tom watched in horror as Acromantula scuttled forward with sickening speed up the sides of the castle and through the gaping wound in its walls. Screams could be heard from inside and he felt dread twist in his stomach as the ghostly forms of Dementors drifted towards the hole, starless silhouettes against the sky.
They were losing.
Tom sped through the front doors into the chaos within, viscerally aware that he had mere moments before the Polyjuice Potion faded as he frantically scanned the crowd, searching for Potter with the cup, for Marina to make sure she was okay, for Lupin, or McGonagall, someone –
He deflected a curse from a tight-faced student, then another from her friend before turning away to trek deeper into the castle, almost immediately coming across a very familiar face in a fierce battle with four Death Eaters at once. McGonagall's wand cut through the air, her expression set in grim focus with a large, bleeding cut on her cheek as one of the Death Eater's heads suddenly erupted into angry burns, screaming as he fell to the floor, clawing at his skin –
McGonagall rounded on the last three but Tom saw the writhing Death Eater on the floor point his wand haphazardly in McGonagall's direction.
"Expelliarmus," he said sharply, sending the man's wand flying, "Detereto."
The man's skin burst with huge, purple blisters and he let out a choking breath before falling unconscious. Tom disarmed the second Death Eater before they had the chance to react to Narcissa's apparent betrayal, and McGonagall spared him a single, suspicious glance before resuming the duel. The three remaining Death Eaters lay unconscious within moments and McGonagall immediately turned her wand on Tom.
"What is the meaning of this, Narcissa?" she demanded coldly as sounds of battle echoed down the corridor from both sides.
But Tom could feel the potion fading, his skin burning as he doubled over, his hair prickling as it shrank back into his head and turned black, his bones shifting with a nauseating ache as he grew taller again –
"Good to… see you again, Professor," he managed to say, squinting at her as the last of the potion left him.
"Tom?" McGonagall breathed, wide-eyed. "Is that you?"
"Have you seen Potter?" Tom asked a little breathlessly, forcing himself upright. "He – he has the cup, Professor, I can still –"
But McGonagall ignored him, rushing forward and pulling him into a tight embrace that took him entirely by surprise. She quickly pulled back, frowning and adjusting her robes very busily. "It's good that you're here," she said sternly, "we could really use you."
Tom bit back a smile. "At this stage, the most use I can pose is by reclaiming the Horcrux," he said, glancing down the corridor where a duel was raging between a group of students and a pair of Death Eaters.
"Yes of course," McGonagall said, lifting her wand and heading towards the duel. "Potter gave the cup to Granger before he left."
"He left?" Tom echoed sharply, following her.
"So I've heard!" she shouted over her shoulder, throwing a curse at a Death Eater and dodging the retaliation. "He's working on something to help with the battle!"
As he looked around the body-littered corridor, Tom couldn't help but grimly hope that whatever Potter had in store, it was something big.
The Death Eaters fell before his and McGonagall's combined prowess, but the toll of the battle was clear. Tom recognised Greyback's work, a few mangled, broken bodies strewn amongst the casualties. He grimaced, wondering again where Marina could be, if he could have accidentally missed her in the gore of the fallen.
"Tom!" bellowed Lupin, in fierce combat with Dolohov who caught sight of Tom and grinned with malice. The grin quickly turned to shock and then fury when Tom deflected one of the hexes aimed at Lupin.
"It's been a while, Lupin," Tom said with a quick smile as he took his place at Lupin's side.
"Good to see you, my boy!" Lupin shouted.
Dolohov's expression turned uglier, but Rowle and Rodolphus Lestrange had suddenly joined him, and Tom's attention was suddenly fully occupied with trying to hold them from progressing further into the school.
"The younger students?" Tom called between hexes.
"Evacuated!" Lupin cried back, blocking an Imperius curse and returning with a brutal mauling jinx that caught Dolohov's non-wand hand and instantly elicited a wide splatter of blood.
"And Marina?" Tom ground out, hitting Lestrange's shoes with a curse that made them sink fangs into the man's feet and sent him to his knees, crying out in pain.
"She's here?" Lupin exclaimed, looking aghast.
"I think so," Tom said tightly, Stunning Rowle and turning his efforts entirely on Lestrange.
"What are you doing, Riddle?" snarled Lestrange. "What trickery is this?"
Tom ignored him, aiming a bludgeoning hex at his shoulder and hearing the joint shatter when it made impact. Lestrange let out a shriek of agony, his eyes unfocused as he struggled to point his wand at Tom's face.
"The Dark Lord will kill you for this," he spat.
"I doubt that," Tom said coolly, and Lestrange was blasted backwards with the force of his Stunning curse, hitting the wall and crumpling to the floor.
Tom took a breath, and turned back around to help Lupin –
"NO!"
The scream broke through the sounds of battle with ease, heart-wrenching and raw, the sound filling Tom's body with ice.
Lupin was falling, his eyes glassy and unseeing, hitting the floor and remaining there unnaturally still. His wand rolled from his limp hand.
A woman with purple hair – Tonks, he realised – was running towards Lupin's body with tears streaming down her face, too entrenched in her anguish to notice Dolohov lifting his wand at her –
"Expulso," Tom breathed, and blue light exploded from his wand, catching Dolohov and throwing him back. "Viridiclava."
Dolohov screamed as the bones in his arm fractured, but Tom didn't cease walking towards him, anger white-hot and blinding, Lupin's dead body swimming before his eyes –
"Crucio," he whispered.
Dolohov writhed, choking, twitching beneath his wand but the anger didn't wane, Tonks' grief-stricken cries didn't fade –
"Expelliarmus!" Bellatrix shrieked.
Tom only just managed to lift his hand and deflect the spell wandlessly, stumbling back at the impact.
"You dare," Bellatrix hissed, wand trembling in her hand trained directly at Tom's heart. "You dare betray –"
"Spare me the theatrics, Bellatrix," Tom breathed, rounding on her. He too was trembling, anger still flowing hot and all-consuming in his veins.
Tonks stood, tear-streaked face wrought with fury as she lifted her wand at Bellatrix, who sneered.
"Dead, is he?" she crooned. "Not much of a loss, is it, your flea-bitten dog of a husband –"
Tonks roared, wordless and furious, blistering flames erupted from her wand in a huge wave that encompassed the room, so hot that Tom leaned away, squinting against the bright, burning light.
Bellatrix split the wave with a slash of her wand, her sneer gone. "Avada Ke-"
"Confrigo," Tom said sharply.
The wall beside her exploded, but she reduced the debris to sand at the last second before rounding back on them with a wild look in her eyes. "Imperi-"
"REDUCTO!" screamed Tonks. "IGNITELUM!"
"Tom!" shouted Arthur Weasley as he slid to a halt behind them. "Tonks! What's –" His eyes lingered on Lupin's face for a single, fraught moment before turning with fury to Bellatrix.
"Avada –" Bellatrix tried again, but Arthur was quicker.
"Impedimentia!" he cried. "Auferdigis!"
Slowly, the three of them forced her back down the corridor, but three more Death Eaters quickly fell into place behind her and her sneer was steadily building again.
"Got a taste for dog, do you?" she taunted, throwing a blood-curdling curse at Tonks, "shame that Sirius was your cousin, Dora, he was just your type –"
"Don't listen to her, Tonks!" bellowed Arthur, but Tonks' hair was turning black, her expression one of unimaginable fury.
"What about Greyback?" shouted Bellatrix, her wand moving so fast that it was a blur. "You don't mind, so long as they've got four legs –"
But Bellatrix was interrupted by a voice that stilled every wand, every student, Professor, and Death Eater alike, a voice that made Tom feel cold at once.
"You have fought valiantly," Voldemort said, so loudly that the rubble around them trembled and shifted. "Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately."
Bellatrix hissed sharply, her fine features twisting with disappointment.
"You have one hour," Voldemort's voice resounded, "dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured. I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
A beat of silence passed,
"Until next time, little niece," Bellatrix grinned with a mocking little bow.
Tonks glared at her, tear tracks through the dust on her cheeks, and turned back to where Lupin lay behind them.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Bellatrix screamed.
"NO!" Arthur bellowed.
But it was too late. Bellatrix let out a little laugh as she fled back down the corridor, and Tonks fell to the floor before Lupin, dead.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
Arthur took Tonks' body, and Tom took Lupin's. The walk to the Great Hall was longer than Tom even thought possible, the corpses Levitating beside them making the crowd part and gasp, students with their hands pressed to their mouths, tears streaming down their cheeks.
They laid Tonks and Lupin side by side in the line of the dead in the middle of the Hall, next to the body of a tiny girl in pink pyjamas. Arthur let out a long, shaky breath and placed his hand on Tom's shoulder, but he could not speak a word in response. Coldness had saturated him in the aftermath of his anger, and yet still more people trickled into the Hall, carrying bodies and helping their limping companions towards the raised platform at the front where the matron was treating injuries. The toll had been worse than he'd realised.
His eyes numbly slid down the line of faces, strangely peaceful in death, most too young, all of them too young –
Tom's breath hitched.
His heart stopped.
There, at the end of the line next to the raised platform, he could see another body. A body that he could barely comprehend.
Long, golden blonde hair was splayed out in an arch around her head where she lay. She was motionless, pale, her eyes closed as if asleep, blood seeping from the gory wound on her stomach visible through the torn jumper she wore, a black jumper now so heavily saturated with blood that the pale yellow T on the front was rendered nearly indiscernible.
It couldn't be, and yet it was, his legs moving him towards her without conscious thought, her name on his lips even though he could not hear it, couldn't hear anything except a relentless ringing and the hard thuds of his heart.
It couldn't be. She shouldn't be here. It wasn't her.
But it was.
It was Marina.
.•° ✿ °•.
A/N:
WHOOO BOY TEAM THAT'S A BIG OLE CHAP
Well, no excuses for the two month absense, just massively lost my mojo, but hey, that's life sometimes *does a kickflip*
Lets do this, final few chapters, I'm here and I'm ready to get hurt again.
If you come at me for specifics in the BoH not exactly matching up, my excuse is that this is my AU and we're playing my rules lmao.
Thanks for your amazing reviews, it's what managed to bring me back in the end.
°•. ✿ .•°
