Come Together Chapter 2 - Prison

AN:

Oni: Hullo again!

Tom: That was fast.

Oni: Yes it was! But hey, enjoy it while it lasts!

Tom: Oni does not own the MCU nor Harry Potter.

Oni: And ONWARDS!

Tom awoke to loud, metallic sounds and the shouts of men. He opened his eyes to see that he was in a prison cell of some sort.

So they had moved him again, then. These strange muggles, who had deemed to call themselves HYDRA, seemed to love moving around their prisoners, though for some reason they kept him separate from the others.

When he had first awoken in this place, he had been tied to a chair, his hands bound behind the back. Two soldier dressed in black had come in, shouting at him in German. When it became obvious that Tom couldn't, in fact, understand them, they switched to English. Which apparently wasn't any better, because they questioned him on his clothes, his "mission", and his supposed "men". After a few rounds of pretending to know what they were talking about he managed to deduce that they thought he was a solider, an enemy one at that. His dark blue eyes had darted to their clothes, which held a red insignia on it, having an eerie similarity to a design he had been coming up with himself, what with the skull motif and all.

They had asked about whether of not he came alone here (he did), what was his mission (there was no mission), and what his name was (Tom Riddle). His answers did not seem to placate the soldiers. On the contrary, they got rather angry when he at last stated his name, and told him to stop playing games with them.

So now they think him to be a British covert spy, and put him in a cell with only a window on the door, not that he could see from it very well. They would sometimes take him out of it to interrogate him again, sometimes coupled with some "persuasion" in the form of painful injections or breaking of some limbs. His magic seemed to heal it relatively quickly, much like they did with his injuries in both the orphanage and Hogwarts, which baffled the men even more. After every questioning session he made sure his small bag stayed hidden, but couldn't risk taking anything out of it for fear that the charm would then be negated. The bright side to all was that he managed to gain quite a lot of information by their questions and their conversations to the other soldiers that they had captured.

They were a group called HYDRA, they just recently turned on the Nazi party (wasn't Grindelwald supposed to be puppeteering the muggle side of that?) and required slave workers to help build...a muggle machine. HYDRA seemed to also hold some kind of advantage, but Tom wasn't able to find out what it was.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he was certain that it had to be about a month or so since he was detained here, which meant that school had already started. People would notice his absence, he was sure. Dumbledore had kept an annoyingly close eye on Tom ever since he let the Basilisk loose. Slughorn would notice that one of his prized students had gone missing, and his Slytherin sycophants would probably realize the Heir was not present.

But who would truly miss Tom Marvolo Riddle?

It was a rather depressing thought, so he pushed it away and instead thought of how to gain more information, which meant picking up key German words. Which couldn't be that hard, he tried to say to himself, as he was already fluent in most of the Ancient Runic languages (including some unsavory ones). German was derived from the Norse linguistics, right?

Days passed, and he would always be led into a room, questioned, tortured, and questioned again. None of them believed him even when he told his half truths over and over again. For some reason they still asked his name, and he soon found out from his garbled German understanding that they didn't believe that "Tom Riddle" was his real name. Tom couldn't help but find it rather strange. It was a bland, muggle name, nothing that could cause alarm. Yet the HYDRA soldiers refused to believe it, so he was put through hell once more. They broke his fingers, which healed, burned marks into his skin, which would be unblemished a few days later, and they shot his legs, which again, healed.

The worst one by far was when they would keep his head underwater for long periods of time. Suffocating with his head in a bucket of water was something he was used to, and while it wasn't as sharply painful as the other ones, he still hated it the most. It just reminded him of darker days of his childhood. ("Spawn of the devil, release thine hold on this youth! In the name of the Lord free this boy from his curse of the Serpent!)

Tom continued to learn about his surroundings, like the fact he was in a weapons facility in the Austrian Alps, which made him understand why he felt so drained after his initial Apparition. In his current condition, making the trip back would be suicide. There were times when he wanted to reach for his wand and show these muggles how pathetic they were under the might of a wizard, but they watched him too closely for him the make a move.

He was starting to rethink about his stance on muggles. These ones were smart, and seemed to operate on a near hivemind. To make matters worse, their weapons held a blue glow to them, the energy making his hair stand in end. When he was in close proximity, he couldn't doubt the fact that these muggles, whether they knew it or not, had managed to harvest some form of magic. This revelation unnerved him, but even all that they had done to him he still kept up his bored mask, just to watch his captors squirm under his gaze.

Later, they relented in their torture, but kept him in a cell alone. They had him work in a factory line with other prisoners, ones that were actually soldiers, to manufacture something very, very large. When he was able to sneak a look at a blueprint of the bloody thing, he deduced it was some sort of aircraft. An aircraft with very big guns and nuclear bombs.

And here he was thinking muggles weren't up to scratch with the world. Bloody hell.

On the bright side, he was getting good with overhearing what the HYDRA blokes and the allied prisoners were saying, and it helped him learn more about the muggle side of the war. Of course, being at Hogwarts showed him the Wizarding side, with Grindelwald and his followers terrorizing both magical and muggle alike (Speaking of which, wasn't Nurmengard near the German border? He's uncomfortably close, then).

The Welcoming Feast was warm and bright. It was too bad Albus' heart was a storm at the moment. Each day he hears more news of what his former friend has done, and yet each night he says here, fearful of confronting the man he so blindly loved. His eyes twinkle, though, when he sees this year's new Gryffindors, his new charges. Perhaps the brightness from his students will give him the Gryffindor courage to face Gellert again. He knew the man was now considered one of the most feared Dark Lords in history, and knowing that somehow he had not seen his vileness made Albus want to sigh in self-degradation.

Though speaking of Dark Lords, Albus' eyes cautiously trailed to the Slytherin table, where the Riddle boy was. Riddle, after all, showed unfortunate signs of both prejudice and an obsession with the Dark Arts. It was all good to learn the theory, but last year, a student died when Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets opened, and though Hagrid took the blame, Albus was sure that the cause was none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle. The boy had also began to gather followers for...something. And it wouldn't be good for the world to have two Dark Lords running around at the same time...

His eyes widened as they passed over the green clad table again. And again. Perhaps there was a mistake? Maybe his mind was too cluttered? No, Horace was also looking worriedly at his own House table, and he could see the mutters of the Slytherin students from him, some alarmed, several curious.

Tom Riddle was not at the table.

Another month had probably passed in captivity when something rather odd happened. It appeared that the facility gained a new manager, a HYDRA colonel by the name of Lohmer, who had loudly proclaimed to his fellow HYDRA members that he had the perfect plan to increase productivity. Hence why Tom was being led through the hallways, chained up and surrounded by marching guards on both sides, to the area where the other prisoners of war were being kept. Tom's sharp eyes quickly picked up the fact that now the soldiers had been separated from their own groups and mixed together with other members of the allied forces. While he was distracted with this revelation, Tom was pushed by the HYDRA guards into one of these mixed cells, the prison door slamming shut behind him.

There were five other men in the cell. One was slumped against the bars, having a coughing fit that told Tom that the poor soldier had come down with pneumonia or something. Behind his bangs he regarded the other members of the cell, of which consisted of a burly redhead with a mustache and a round hat, a dark skinned man that seemed familiar with the former soldier, a Frenchman, and someone who appeared to be from Tom's own country. This became obvious when the men introduced themselves one by one. The red mustached man became Dugan (who also mentioned the sick man beside him to be a fellow named Jimmy), the dark man Jones, the British man Falsworth, and the Frenchman Dernier. Before Tom himself could introduce himself (not that he was trying to, he was doing his best to blend in with the darkness of the facility) Dugan and Jones made a verbal jab at the Frenchman, and soon a brawl broke out inside the cell.

In the other cages, much of the same thing was happening. Tom shook his head. Divide and Conquer. A classic control technique. Of bloody course. He lazily glanced over to the cage next to his, only to find another burlier British soldier pummeling an American. It was most unfortunate that he recognized this particular soldier quiet well. After all, Tom had killed his rabbit when they were small.

Billy Stubbs had went off to war as soon as he was of age, probably to kill Nazis and feel like a hero. Typical of him, to want to hurt others because it felt morally right. Billy was always lauded a hero at Wool's, because he would always "defeat" the "spawn of Satan". He would crush the Serpents beneath his heel. How many slithering friends had Tom lost to this boy? It made his vision go red, but he tried to cool his emotions down. Fighting in this place would do him no good.

That was, until Billy himself turned to meet his eyes, and sneered in recognition.

"Well if it isn't the FREAK. Wonder how in God's name YOU needed up here in this hovel, Riddle."

Silence fell between the cages as the two orphans glared at each other, Tom not uttering a single word. All he did was constrict further in on himself, causing Stubbs to guffaw. All he did was glare at Billy with cold eyes.

"What's the matter demon spawn? Cat got your tongue? I thought freaks like you would be working for these blokes outside! I've got half a mind to wallop you here and now!" Stubbs taunted angrily, causing Tom to hiss in anger.

Somehow he was now standing up. He had grown taller since he had last seen Billy and, while lanky, struck a foreboding figure. His hands gripped the bars of the cell tightly, and perhaps he was imagining the smell of burning. Wide blue eyes were wild with anger, and he saw the men in Stubbs' cell back away in fright, while Billy himself smiled with stark terror in his eyes.

"Go on, show us what kind of monster you really are!" Stubbs shouted almost hysterically, and everything began to go red...

A hand gripped his shoulder tightly, grounding Tom once more to the here and now. He turned behind him to see that it was the sick soldier, Jimmy. The hand squeezed his shoulder in a reassuring manner.

"Don't bother with him. He's not worth it." the soldier they called Jimmy croaked out, before he erupted into another round of coughing.

Tom turned back to the stricken looks that were on the faces of the men in Billy Stubbs' cell, and back to his own cell. The soldier was right. Tom soundlessly nodded, and let go of the bars. He turned his back to Stubbs and faced his cellmates, who were fighting each other just before.

"Tom Riddle." he mumbled monotonously, as a way of quiet introduction.

The men in his cell nodded mutely, distracted by something behind him. Tom paid them no heed, slumping down with the American that was also rather sick, refusing to look at their faces. He knew what they were seeing.

And he refused to talk about the handprints burned into the metal bars of the cage, where his hands had gripped them just seconds before.

They were working on the line again, putting together missiles piece by piece. Tom marveled at the ingenuity, even if it was the enemy's. His eyes darted to the stiffness of the other soldiers from his cell, still angry at one another. Absentmindedly he glares at the crimson insignia that HYDRA uses for themselves. It looked nothing like a hydra, and more like a kraken, if anything. Tom knew enough from Care of Magical Creatures (though not as much as that Hagrid boy, who took the fall for Tom's own actions...he was starting to feel a little bad about that) to distinguish the two, at least.

He did so hate the color red, it always seemed to be the color of his opponent. Green was a far better color. Green like the scales of his House mascot. Lions and Eagles were overrated anyway. Perhaps he should continue on that route, just make a few changes. His philosophy seemed to have taken a turn, as muggles were far more advanced than he had ever imagined, but he could keep most of his plans, like the insignia, and the new name...

A loud crashing sound reverberated in the hanger they were in, dragging Tom out of his musings. Blue eyes widened as he saw Jimmy on the ground, hacking and coughing with unfilled shells scattered around him. Colonel Lohmer angrily marched up to him, shouting some sort of swear in German.

"Sorry about that, Fritzie -cough- cant quite shake this damn -cough-" the American soldier replied to the HYDRA colonel, who had picked up an empty shell lying on the ground and raised it above his head, "Think...I caught -cough- pneumonia on the battlefield...you wouldn't happen to have a -cough- doctor in this dump -cough-"

"We do." Lohmer answered menacingly, bringing down the shell on Jimmy's head with a loud clang, "I am him."

Blood began to flow from the soldier's head, and Tom began to see red. It seemed that he wasn't the only one, because Dugan roared out from his place at the belt, held back by two guards.

"JIMMY! You dirty-" but he was cut off with a gloved hand to his mouth.

"And this is the cure for what ails you!" Lohmer shouted almost gleefully, bringing the shell down three more times, the sound of metal clanging mixed with the smell of blood, and Tom felt something twist inside himself.

Strong fingers wrapped around his arms, and Tom realized that he, too, had lunged at the colonel and was now being held back by the guards. It felt strange, perhaps he was just feeling attached to the one person who almost effortlessly grounded him from his rage before, coupled with the fact that these men were the first "friendly" human contact he's had in months.

Eventually they all ended up back in their cell, with Jones tending to the poor man's wounds as best he could, and checking him over to see his current condition. Even with his limited medical knowledge Tom could tell at least some of his ribs were broken.

"Well, I'd say it's walking pneumonia...except contusions and broken ribs have taken care of the 'walking' part. If Fritzie makes him work tomorrow, I guarantee he won't last his shift." Jones concluded grimly.

"That bastard Lohman won't think twice about it!" Dugan ground out, "He gives slave drivers a bad name!"

"Kleiber had morning shift, and he at least is partly human..." Dernier offered, but was then cut off by Dugan.

"But then Lohman comes on the floor at NOON! He'll drag Jimmy outta here, and then he's KAPUT!"

"Hold on..." Falsworth butted into the conversation, a hint of an idea lacing his voice, enough to make Tom lean in, "...Dernier, you were an explosives expert with the partisans, right?"

"Oui." was the confused reply.

"And you're on shell duty tomorrow. Right, Dugan? Can you knick me some of that gunpowder?"

Tom could see where this was going... he attempted to lean closer, but a groan from his injured cellmate causes his attention to go back to why they were planning this scheme in the first place. Suddenly, an idea came to mind as well. He stared at the bloodied form with calculating eyes.

"Five-finger discount's what landed me in juvenile hall, Limey." Tom heard Dugan reply.

He placed a finger on Jimmy's shirt, getting blood on it. Enough to write with.

"Good." he heard Falsworth say, "And you have the power cells, yes, Jones?"

"So?" Jones grunted.

"My specialty in the brigade was strategy." Falsworth explained, "I think we can take care of Lohmer once and for all...but it will require us working in tandem."

Tom inspected his work, certain that he got it correct, and pulled down Jimmy's shirt to hide it from questioning eyes.

"Why, Lord Falsworth," Jones said smoothly, smiling at the British soldier, "...what took you so long to ask?"

It was then that Tom felt many eyes land on him, and he turned to see that the others were all looking at him now.

"Riddle, I'm not sure what you're specialty is-" Falsworth started before he was cut off.

"Nothing of use in this case, I'm sure." Tom answered, already feeling the bones under where his hand rested above the rune he had drawn crunching together as they slowly knitted themselves back together.

"You're manning the crane, right? If you have good aim, then all you need to do is..." Falsworth whispered so that only the cell's inhabitants could hear, making everyone smile.

"Yes, that I can do." Tom replied, his thin lips curving upwards in a way that made people shudder.

It had been a month since it became obvious that Tom Riddle was missing from Hogwarts. His position as Head Boy had been given to someone else in the meantime. However, nobody knew where to start looking for the boy in the first place. He had already visited the orphanage, but they had claimed he hadn't been there for the latter part of the summer.

Albus sighed. He knew Tom wouldn't leave on his own, as the seventh year of Hogwarts could be considered the most important year of all. Of course, Tom himself most likely had already mastered this year's curriculum the year before, just like he always had, but after his near-plea to stay at Hogwarts during the Chamber incident, it seemed uncharacteristic of the boy to not show up.

Which meant he was being kept away from Hogwarts against his will.

While Tom was a...dangerous student, it was the duty of all Hogwarts staff to make sure that all of their students were safe and sound. The only thing Dumbledore could think of that could possibly contain the boy was...Grindelwald's followers.

Remembering the boy's own anti-muggle stance (he made that very clear to his Housemates), Albus paled. Could it be that the Riddle boy had joined their forces under the promise of power?

This is what plagued the wizard with the greying auburn hair and beard as he walked toward the Transfiguration classroom to begin the lessons for that day.

The plan went off without a hitch. Falsworth casually wheeled his shell cart past Dugan, who slipped him gunpowder in some folded paper, and past Jones, who had conveniently left a jar of battery fluid next to him as he worked on the cell. Nobody noticed Falsworth swiping it up.

"Here you are," Falsworth whispered to Dernier, handing over the supplies, "For God's sake, don't blow yourself up."

"Naturellement." was the only answer received, and they parted ways.

Tom was now at his post inside the strange muggle contraption. It appeared to be a giant magnet connected to a crane-like machine. Currently the magnet was lying on top of a pile of scrap metal, waiting to be lifted and carried to wherever they needed to be. Of course, Tom was waiting for a certain somebody to show up first...

"Kleiber!" shouted the man they were all waiting for, "I don't see that clumsy oaf Number 56898!"

"He is very sick, Herr Lohmer," Kleiber replied, fixing his round spectacles, "Incapable of work!"

"I'll be the judge of that, Lieutenant!" Lohmer shouted, getting louder and louder.

From his place at the inside of the crane-like machine, Tom discreetly watched Dernier add the gunpowder into the small jar of fluid, and shifted his eyes away from where the Frenchman was carefully pouring the solution onto the chain that connected the heavy magnet to Tom's machine.

"That lazy good-for-nothing will die at his post if he has to!" Lohmer bellowed, raising his arms high, "I'll drag him out of his cell myself-"

"Let's go, Britisher!" shouted Kleiber to Tom, half attempting to ignore the raging Lohmer, "We need that scrap across the floor now! Schnell!"

"Right-o Lieutenant Kleiber, sir..." Tom replied with a salute.

Fortunately, he had been posted at this job before, and therefore had already gone through the trail and error with the controls (and had been punished harshly for messing it up, multiple times) and pulled on the handles to make the crane move, taking note of how the flames Dernier poured onto it were eating up at the chain. With a loud whirring noise the machine spun towards the HYDRA soldiers, the magnet coming along with scrap in its maw. The magnet slowly moved above them, and Tom slowed it down minutely once it went over Lohmer's head.

It happened so fast. The chain shattered from where the flames had eaten up the metal and wire, and the magnet (and everything it carried) plummeted right on top of Lohmer. The man barely had any time to react when he looked up to see what had happened. A scream of fright was the last thing heard from Lohmer before he was crushed beneath the broken machinery, spattering blood on the floor.

The men working who saw the death cheered, and they had to be restrained by the guards. In his place inside the now-broken crane, Tom smiled. It always feels good when something goes as planned. There's something else there, too, a sense of camaraderie. Tom wonders why he's never felt this way in Hogwarts.

They were quickly sent back to their cell, where Jimmy was lying wearily, but definitely in better shape than when they had left.

"Hey, hey Jimmy." Dugan whispered out as they all filed into their cage, "That creep Lohmer ain't gonna bother you - or anyone else no more. They can't tell it wasn't anything other than old equipment, so we just gotta go without rations for a week." at this, Dugan cracked a wide smile, "It was worth it just to hear the bastard howl, Jimmy-boy."

"Blast it, Dugan, you Dum-Dum!" growled out the weak soldier, who was now far more energetic, "How many times I got to tell you - no one, and I mean no one, calls me 'Jimmy'."

"Your Mama named you James, didn't she?" Dugan asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

At this, the soldier-that-was-not-called-Jimmy sat up further, surprising some of the others with how quickly he had healed. His face was set in indignation.

"James Buchanan Barnes." he told them, stressing out each syllable, "That's why they call me Bucky."

AN:

Oni: And another chapter is done! Please don't expect updates this fast usually, I'm just really on a roll here right now!

Tom: Don't forget to follow, favorite, and review...

Oni: And I'll see you next time, my pretties!