Come Together Chapter 13 - Heroism Part 1
AN:
Oni: Hello all! I worked really hard to finish this chapter within a month, so I'm sorry if it's not as good as usual. Keeping a decent update schedule was never a thing I could do.
Tom: Despite that, we do hope you enjoy this latest increment.
Oni: This final part of the CA:TFA arc was a little too long to cram into one chapter, so I had to split it up. Still, I hope you like it!
Steve: Oni does not own the MCU or the Harry Potter franchise. She's just blowing up the sandbox.
Oni: AAAAAAND ONWARDS!
Howard Stark filed away another reel, sighing to himself. The news of Sergeant Barnes' death had spread, and it casted a gloomy cloud on those close to Captain America and the Howling Commandos. Fingers brushed each reel case, meticulously labeled with either Sergeant Riddle's elegant cursive handwriting or Howard's own practical block handwriting. Some were on the weapons they had created together, some were mission logs, and some were Howard's personal reels depicting the lives, shenanigans, and off-duty moments of the men (and woman) he called his friends. The sound of footsteps had Howard turning around to greet someone that had become a regular face around the laboratory.
"Hey Monty."
The older wizard in question waved in what could be called a jovial manner, and Howard knew that the Potter Head was trying to keep morale high despite the loss everyone was feeling.
"Good afternoon, Howard." the bespectacled wizard greeted, "Do you have a moment? There's something I'd like to ask of you."
There was something in the way that Monty was holding himself that told Howard (who was normally a very unobservant man) that whatever it was that the Potioneer wanted to say, it was important.
"Uh, sure, shoot." replied the inventor, sitting down on one of the chairs.
Monty began by sitting down in another empty chair, his face betraying a kind of worry that made Howard's stomach lurch. What could possibly cause the regularly relaxed wizard to worry? A sigh escaped from the man before he turned to face his lab partner fully with a serious expression.
"I need you to stop Tom from storming the headquarters with Captain Rogers."
Howard blinked a rapidly a few times, his mind ticking away about the reason why Monty would ask such a thing. Especially now that they knew that Schmidt and Grindelwald were hiding in the headquarters together, the building buried deep inside the Alps. Tom had already sent word to his contact in the wizard police (Aurors, Tom had stressed when he had first explained them to Howard, lips twitching in fond exasperation. That had been before the tragedy) and they were amassing forces to fight Grindelwald's followers.
"Why?" asked the scientist, confusion written all over his features.
The inventor had seen the sheer determination that powered the Howling Commandos and their Captain, and it would be incredibly difficult to pull any of them away from the fight, especially someone as stubborn as Tom Marvolo Riddle. Not without good reason. Monty heaved another sigh, as if he didn't want to talk about it, but felt that he must.
"His health, Howard." the Potioneer answered, "I don't think he's... medically fit to join in on the fight. Not now."
That was worrying, especially since the normally open Fleamont Potter was skirting around the subject. If it was Tom he would have let it be, the guy held his secrets close to his chest and it was a gift if he actually told you something straight.
"What's wrong with him?" Howard pressed, "He's already off his crutches thanks to you and Feemie. He'll be in shape in time for the mission."
Monty's face turned fearful, stricken. He was twirling his wand in his hand, something that Howard initially found hilarious due to the fact that both resident wizards had the same nervous tick.
"It's... not just one problem, I'm afraid." Monty began, and Howard prepared himself for a explanation on another magic thing he didn't know about, "Feemie ran some diagnostics on him and made a few... worrying finds. I assume you are aware of the three Unforgivables?"
Huh, that he did know. Tom used the 'worst' one a ton during the HYDRA raids with the special dispensation to kill as quickly and efficiently as possible.
"Yeah." the inventor answered in confusion, "The one that kills, the one that tortures, and the one that turns you into a puppet."
Monty nodded slowly, and continued.
"Correct. It seems that Tom was hit with the Cruciatus Curse, that is the 'one that tortures', as you said." Howard winced at the implication, "What's worse, it seems he was under it for nearly a full minute."
At Howard's still-confused look he elaborated.
"The Cruciatus Curse is known to instill the worse kind of torture known to wizards. In a scientific outlook, it stimulates all of your pain nerves without causing outward physical harm. Therefore, the effect of such a curse isn't so much physical, but mental. Many who have stayed under the curse for more than a few seconds are prone to becoming unresponsive, depending on their mental stability and strength of will. It's a miracle as it is that Tom isn't a vegetable, thanks to the magic-dampening armor he wears, but even so I highly doubt he is without some sort of scarring. It could be something as small as the temporary blanking of the mind."
The information Monty had dumped on him caused the inventor to think back to any interaction he had with the young wizard, and found that yes, Tom was acting a little spacey at times, but Howard had brushed it off as part of the guy's grieving process.
"So what's the other problem?" Howard asked, folding his hands under his chin.
But something like that wasn't enough to stop Tom from fighting in the front. And why should it? The teen wizard didn't space out all that much (though to be honest, it did weird Howard out to see him so unfocused), and it certainly didn't hinder him from doing what needed to be done.
"Because of the speed of Tom's recovery from the curse, as well as his rather intensive magical exhaustion, Feemie and I performed a test on his blood." Monty explained, handing Howard some parchment that turned out to be a Wizarding medical report, "We found an abnormality. Part of his ancestry is not...human. And before you say that it could be because of his patronage to Loki since Salazar Slytherin himself had similar traits, we found a match. It is Jotunn, Frost Giant, buried dormant in his blood until it was awakened by his shield's runic array. How it got there is beyond me, but it was buried deep enough to say that it spans quite a few generations. It is why Tom has been growing taller, and has gained a high tolerance to the cold and yes, even alcohol. It seems that on the train Tom managed to tap into the wild, untamed magic of his frost giant ancestry and exhausted himself. Magic is like a muscle, Howard, it gets stronger the more you use it. And like a muscle, you could harm yourself if you overexert yourself. If Tom tries to actively use this new energy instead of the accidental outburst on the train..."
"...he could kill himself by magic overload." Howard finished grimly.
Ivory hands stroked the top of the black leather before opening it to reveal worn pages. Drawings and musings, pencil and ink. And yet, there was much about the diary that could not be seen by the naked eye. Like the fact that there was a soul shard imbedded in it, split from the whole by a murder of an innocent girl. It is now that he sees her pale figure in his mind, cold and stiff, wide eyed and unmoving.
Is that what Bucky looked like? Laying in the snow? Would there have been blood? They had yet to find his body, but still, a fall from that height left little hope for survival. Death used to scare Tom, who saw his own corpse when faced with a boggart. Now, it was not his own death he feared, but the death of his friends. One of which had already been realized. It terrified Tom that he should live while others should die. Was it punishment for his past crimes?
Arms held the small diary close to his chest, the thrum of the two half souls discordant, out of harmony. Blue eyes fluttered closed as Tom took a deep breath. He had precious few minutes to himself, so he had to make this count. He took his mind to those days before he joined the army, back when he still walked the halls of Hogwarts. As a prefect, his crimes, a murder most foul.
A girl, the first victim, crying because of the words of her classmates, wailing in one of the stalls where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets laid. Footsteps, his own, prowling inside, ignoring her sniffling and calling the denizen that lay beneath.
The second victim, Esmeralda the basilisk, placed under the school as a protective measure during the witchhunts back in the Founders' era, a serpent whose friendship he had used for his own means. She had been slithering out of the pipes that lead to the outside, only to meet eyes with the girl that had gone to the sink to wash her tear stained face. Tom had been waiting around the corner to console the serpent, and told her that the cows he had stole for her were hidden in the back.
A third year student, the third victim, after the fear of the school shutting down, the terror that gripped him when he was faced with returning to Wool's early, he had needed a scapegoat. When he had found the half giant boy hiding an Acromantula in his trunk, Tom had known he had found the perfect fool to take the fall. Never mind the fact that he was only thirteen, never mind the fact he was nothing but kind.
Three victims. One murder. One expelled. One cursed to live, hated, under the bowels of Hogwarts. All because Tom Riddle was hateful, prideful, vicious, selfish. He could hear the wails of Myrtle Warren's parents, see the broken expression on Rubeus Hagrid's face when his wand was snapped.
Emotions bubbled to the surface, ones that Tom had previously refused to acknowledge, and they hit the young soldier hard as the weight of his actions had finally crashed upon his shoulders. The Tom Riddle then had not cared about anyone but himself. The Tom Riddle now, however, cared quite a bit about the sins he committed and the people that had been affected by his crimes. Now, in the silence of the empty bunker, he allowed the tears to fall as emotions flooded him until he felt as if he were drowning in sorrow. In guilt. In complete, all consuming remorse.
The tears flowed from his face and dripped down into the black cover of the diary, the liquid soaking into the book like it did with ink when written by someone other than Tom himself. Against his chest, the pulsing he felt from the soul shard in the book began to become oddly erratic, as if in pain. Each tear drop full of emotion like acid, burning away the vileness that grew within the pages, purifying the evil that the shard carried with it. The dark magic that anchored the soul to the diary began to dissolve, freeing the horcrux from its prison.
For the first time in a long time, the two halves of the soul pulsed like a heartbeat, synchronized. Slowly, Tom released his hold on the diary, letting it fall onto his lap. A pair of pale, shaking hands opened the covers, and the pages flipped on their own, stopping at the center of the book. From within the core of the diary, a small glowing light rose from the worn pages, floating in front of the crying boy, pulsing quietly. It floated closer, like a wisp that could be blown away at the slightest breath. Tom wondered how his soul could possibly look so delicate. Innocent, even.
Tom sucked in a breath, and the soul shard followed with it, flying into his body via his throat (he had heard from classmates that the Dementor's Kiss took the soul from the body through the mouth, he now understood why that was true). The shard shot straight into his core, colliding with the part of his soul that never left, melting and welding together so that they could become one once more. It felt like a miniature sun was blazing in his chest, burning him from the inside.
Until it all stopped, the pain and pressure and burning disappearing in a single heartbeat.
Blue eyes blinked three times, slowly, trying to understand what had just transpired. He felt... whole. The regret he felt was still heavy on him, but now he was no longer torn in two halves, no longer afraid to feel such things. A different kind of weight was lifted off of him, one that had been plaguing him since the day he joined the Howling Commandos and their Captain. Now he no longer had to fear that he would live while others died.
The idea of never seeing Bucky again had terrified him to the point where he couldn't bear to see that reality. But now it was possible, whenever his time came. Tom flipped the pages of the diary, a mere object now, no longer a vessel of dark magic. The runes it powered could still be activated remotely, but now he would have to place extra precautionary charms on it, just in case. Such things could be done at a later date, or perhaps, never at all. That time could be fast approaching, seeing as they were going to storm the HYDRA headquarters and face the two most dangerous men in the world. A smile crept to his pale face as he exited the bunker, ready to fight.
Tom Marvolo Riddle was was mortal once more.
It didn't take long to gain the information needed from the captured prisoners. Zola was the most talkative, the self serving HYDRA scientist switching sides (or supposedly, Tom didn't trust the man's supposed new loyalties) as soon as he realized his position. Mulciber, on the other hand, had talked after a prolonged stay in the Wizard Trapped cell (and when Tom had snapped his wand), unable to cope with the fact that they had managed to 'take his magic away'. With that information compiled, everyone involved in the fight to bring down HYDRA had gathered in the strategy room, planning out what would hopefully be their final attack.
"Johann Schmidt belongs in a bug house." Colonel Phillips growled out, "He thinks he's a God. He's willing to blow up half the world to prove it, starting with the USA."
"Schmidt's working with powers beyond our capabilities, even with the addition of magic on our side." Howard continued grimly, and Tom picked up on the fact that the scientist was sneaking him glances, "His advantage, called the Tesseract, is an artifact of legend. He gets across the Atlantic, he will wipe out the entire eastern sea board in an hour."
The Tesseract. A cube that held infinite power, and something that up until today Tom was sure was an object of myth. It would, however, explain Schmidt's obsession with Nordic mythology, and his god complex (and why, though he was a muggle, Grindelwald was working with him). HYDRA had been able to harness pure, solid magic from a cube that was rumored to have infinite potential.
"How much time we got?" Gabe asked, voicing the question on everyone's minds.
It was actually mentioned, once, in the writings of Salazar Slytherin, who had said that the Tesseract was given to mortal men for safekeeping, to muggles no less. When he had read that recounting Tom had snorted in derision, wondering how a muggle and their descendants could possibly be worthy of guarding such an artifact. Looking around the room now, he saw the lengths they would go to protect all they held dear.
"According to my new best friend," Phillips replied in a grave tone, "under twenty four hours."
It's a race to the finish then, Tom thought to himself, and we are rapidly running out of time. His mind began to drift again as he stared blankly at the map pinned to the planning table. As he fought to focus once more, Jacques asked his own question.
"Where is he now?"
"Hydra's last base is here." the Colonel answered, holding up a photograph and pointing to the entrance nearly hidden by the snow-covered mountainside, "In the Alps. Five hundred feet below the surface."
Ah, yes, the other Commandos weren't there for the initial questionings. Zola was met with only Phillips as everyone else was fully prepared to kill the HYDRA scientist where he was kept, and Mulciber may or may not have undergone quite a bit of torture under Tom's hand (non-magically, as they were inside the wizard's cell). Ultimately it was Monty who coaxed the information out from the man, and the older wizard came out with answers and an empty vial of Veritaserum. Tom had told the man that had become his father figure that using the truth potion had completely slipped his mind, but both of them knew better.
Tom had wanted him to feel the pain brought on by Bucky's death, a pain that outweighed even the Cruciatus Curse.
"So, what are we supposed to do?" asked Jim, the Japanese American thinking the information over, "I mean, it's not like we can just knock on the front door."
The ticking Below the surface that Tom noticed in Steve's eyes told the wizard that the supersoldier was seriously considering the thought, however. At this point in time, was bursting through the front really such a bad idea? HYDRA wouldn't be expecting such a bold move, especially if some high profile soldiers (aka Steve and Tom, the respective icons against them) went in first, drawing attention away from the army that would march in after.
"Well why not?" voiced Steve, whose eyes glinted in determination, "That's exactly what we're gonna do."
"We'll need backup." Colonel Phillips countered, "A shit ton of backup, if we're going to be fighting against lunatics waving around sticks that can turn even the finest soldiers into a bunch of frogs."
At this statement, all eyes turned to Tom, who straightened up under the scrutiny of his peers. Fishing a rolled up piece of parchment from his pocket, he handed the missive over to the Colonel.
"The Auror Corps have agreed to take part in this battle, if only to see the end of Grindelwald." Tom intoned professionally, "They will meet us at the rendezvous point of our choosing and march alongside our army as a show of unity. How well they will actually work with our own troops, however, is not something I can guarantee."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there." answered Colonel Phillips, "For now the fact that they're prepped and ready to raise hell is enough."
After the initial planning was mapped out, the group dispersed to prepare for their most dangerous mission yet. Tim busied himself with making sure that the Commandos would have enough ammo to see them through the fight ahead, be it against HYDRA or wizards. As he did this, the youngest Sergeant of the Howling Commandos was approached by a rather nervous looking Howard Stark. For a few seconds neither spoke, before the scientist took a deep breath and heaved out a heavy sigh.
"I think you should sit this fight out."
His words made Tom freeze, its contents entirely unexpected. Blue eyes regarded worried brown with a narrowed countenance.
"Why?"
Howard produced a roll of parchment from his pocket, which told Tom that it was either Monty or Feemie who put the man up to this, and promptly handed it to the rather perplexed wizard. Unrolling the parchment, Tom realized that this was a diagnostic report of his health via a sample of his blood (which Feemie must have taken when he was unconscious).
"Remember that thing you said about you being a descendant of your Patron God Loki?" Howard stated wryly, "Well unless the guy was a Frost Giant, someone at some point lied about your heritage. Turns out the Shield of Loki's been channeling magic into you, not just the other way around, and due to the fact that you just happened to choose that insignia for the shield-"
"It's awoken a dormant part of my bloodline?" Tom finished with a raised eyebrow.
"Not that simple I'm afraid." was Howard's answer, "Once that part of you 'woke up', it's been systematically replacing other aspects of your blood with itself."
It certainly explains quite a lot, Tom mused to himself as he read the report. The blood of a Frost Giant, a trait very few could boast. Such a being had not been seen since the time before the Founders, though it's been told to have abilities and intelligence far above the capabilities of modern giants.
"Hence the physical and magical changes since I've had it." Tom muttered more to himself than anyone else, his eyes scanning the page in interest, "The Frost Giant blood seems to be overwriting itself into my Wizarding blood, causing my magic to change as well. And because the branch of Jotunn magic has been largely unused, any overexertion on my part might lead to magical exhaustion."
And yet, how did it get there? It was rumored that Loki, God of Mischief, was in fact borne of the Jotunn Laufey. Such an implication would be sheer scandal if voiced among gods (or at least, that's what the books said), but if it were true, and this blood truly was at the forefront now, what kind of magic reserve did he hold now? What was he capable of?
"Don't forget the little note there that says 'Death by Magical Exhaustion'." Howard quipped back, "It's a pretty important part."
Tom barely contained the noncommittal noise that threatened to make itself known. If he had wanted a higher chance of living, he would have chosen a path far from the battlefield. Besides, there was a reason he had recalled his Horcrux.
"Howard." the Wizard began, returning the report to the inventor and placing a hand on the man's shoulder, "This is my choice to go. If I wanted to live a long life, I would not have chosen the path of the soldier. Bucky..." his voice caught when he said the name, "had known that, and still fought alongside us. Were I to leave now, for a mere chance, for that's what it is, just a chance I might die from magical exhaustion, it would be a slight upon his character."
The hand not on Howard's shoulder found themselves in the pocket of his uniform, where a silver lighter with Fiendfyre engraved on the side was nestled. Thin fingers clasped around the small object, as if trying to draw strength from it.
"I refuse to let him die in vain."
Their eyes met once more, each determined to their cause. After a minute of silent argument, it was Howard that sighed and admitted defeat. All the man could give was a somber nod, which was returned by the young Wizard that was now proving himself as a man.
"You won't. I'm sure of it."
Those words, surprisingly, did not come from the scientist. Tom and Howard turned around to see Steve leaning against the doorframe, an expression of pride on his face. The youngest Sergeant in the Commandos saluted his Captain, which the supersoldier mirrored. No more words were exchanged, but the silence between them was full of meaning. Closeness, grief, understanding, pride, sorrow, determination. A silent promise. This fight was for Nobby, for those who were lost because of the inaction of the Wizarding World, for the soldiers who gave their lives so that evil may not prevail.
Fingers gripped the lighter tighter, feeling the cool metal warm to his skin. Perhaps, if he concentrated really hard, Tom could hear his voice (full of mirth and laughter, laid back words promising that they would go out for drinks after the job was done, a scream he wasn't there to hear, wasn't there to save) in this moment absent of sound. Blue eyes fluttered closed as Tom took a deep breath. In, out.
This was for Bucky.
This is a stupid plan, thought Tom as he was captured side by side with Steve at the entrance to the HYDRA headquarters, how was I convinced that this was a good plan? Bloody Gryffindors are rubbing off on me.
They had made quite the scene, what with the two respective heroes riding their motorcycles into the fray, shooting down HYDRA agents left and right. Tom assumed that the remainder of Grindelwald's vast army was somewhere inside, preparing for the next step with vigor. After all, to leave the Tesseract in the hands of muggles would be sacrilegious to their cause. Hopefully they would be as disagreeable to their muggle counterparts as they were during the fall of Nurmengard.
Getting cuffed and dragged into the midst of the serpent's den (one day, the back of his mind dreamed, one day it will be I who am the serpent and not the mouse) was not something Sergeant Tom would have considered to be a good way to win the war but alas, they were playing the bait today. Rough hands forced him onto his knees, and from the floor he looked up to see the two greatest threats to the world standing side by side, sneering down at them in condescension. Grindelwald especially seemed to be sending glares of barely contained hate towards Lord Voldemort (whose mask laid at the Dark Lord's feet, one of the eyepieces sporting a rather large crack), not that Tom could really blame him for such animosity. Both his fortress and his pride had been lost in one day, neither of which he could regain as long as Lord Voldemort was still around to ruin his plans.
"Arrogance may not be a uniquely American trait," Johann Schmidt began with his hands behind his back, condescension lacing his voice, "but I must say you do it better than anyone."
The notion that Steve was arrogant sounded rather ridiculous to Tom's ears. Thick-headed as the Captain was, arrogance was not something that he managed to exude. That was Howard's department, as well as Tom himself (though he preferred to think of himself as sure of his abilities).
"And you, my traitorous friend," Grindelwald added, sneering down at the bound wizard, "are a rather close second."
Instead of glaring, Tom sent a smirk in the direction of the German wizard. This did not deter Grindelwald at the least, having seen the acting skills of Lord Voldemort during the skirmish of Nurmengard. By seemingly acting confident, the young wizard was conveying that he was trying to salvage his pride in the face of defeat. Or at least, that was what Tom wanted the man to think.
"But there are limits to what even you can do, Captain." Schmidt continued, as if Grindelwald wasn't there, causing the Dark Lord's left eye to twitch minutely, "Or did Erskine tell you otherwise?"
Oh, this was interesting. Was this display to show false rivalry between two unified leaders, or were the both of them trying to outshine one another? If so, what would happen if such a scab (one from a wound that Tom had most likely ripped open) was picked at?
"He told me you were insane." replied Steve seriously, the look on his face telling his Sergeant that he too had noticed the dissonance.
"And also hideous." Tom piped up from next to him, "Have you looked in the mirror lately or have you thrown them all out in fear of seeing yourself?"
A low growl came from the throat of the aptly named Red Skull, while Steve fought rather hard to keep himself from laughing at his enemy's expense.
"He resented my genius and tried to deny me what was rightfully mine." the head of HYDRA spoke, his eyes boring into Captain America and refusing to acknowledge Sergeant Riddle's existence, "But he gave you everything. So, what made you so special?"
"Nothin'." he heard Steve reply to Schmidt, "I'm just a kid from Brooklyn."
With Schmidt's focus now on his Captain, Tom turned with a smug smirk to Grindelwald, who was gripping the Elder Wand rather tightly. Anger flashed in the Dark Lord's eyes as he scanned the muggle attire of the wizard who had turned his back on pureblood and Wizarding social constructs, which widened as they took in the sight of a diamond shaped gem on Tom's armband. It was then that Tom's smirk widened into a manic grin as the 'reason' for his strength was revealed.
"And so the great Lord Voldemort shows his hand." Grindelwald whispered out, "And here they were telling me that you were a borne Master of Magic." the last part was said with a sneer.
"Greatness can come from the most humble of origins." was the young Sergeant's only reply.
Tom Riddle did not waver in his smile, though the level of mania that it exuded seemed to rise. It seemed to incense the Dark Lord further, and the young wizard briefly wondered if he was always this mad (yes, a part of him whispered, yes you were).
The simple, scathing replies from the two captured men seemed to grind on the nerves of the seething megalomaniacs, if the spots in Tom's eyes were anything to gauge by. He was about to taunt Grindelwald on why he was using physical force before a wave of pain flowed through him. Tom forced himself to grit his teeth as he was subject to the Cruciatus Curse for the second time in thirty six hours, his body protesting the excited pain nerves as he shuddered in place.
"Perhaps it would do you well to learn some humility then!" Grindelwald snarled out, keeping the Elder Wand pointed at the kneeling form of Lord Voldemort.
Next to him, Captain America wasn't faring well either. Blood spotted his mouth and there was bruising around his left eye. The punches he received from Schmidt did little to break his spirit, and the soldier even managed to crack a smile in the enemy's direction.
"I can do this all day." Steve grunted out, causing Tom to laugh despite the pain he felt.
Whether it was because it was Grindelwald preforming the curse or the Elder Wand's power, the Cruciatus Curse felt worse than when he had experienced it on the train. This time, however, he was not suffering alone, and his Captain did his best to keep both their minds off of the abuse.
Tom was grateful he had such a friend as Steve.
"Oh, of course you can. Of course." Schmidt replied almost lightly, "But unfortunately I am on a tight schedule."
From his holster, the Red Skull retrieved a pistol and pointed it at Steve, the tip glowing a familiar blue light. Grindelwald, seeing that the muggle Tom followed so loyally was about to meet his end, cancelled the torture curse.
It seemed that the time for their immaculate performance was up, and it was time to pull the plug on this charade. With a wry grin sent to each other, Tom and Steve exclaimed in tandem.
"So are we!"
A loud crash came from the left, and from the window leading to the outside came the rest of the Howling Commandos, Dum Dum leading the front. Elation filled Tom as he began to grin widely, catching the bone-white yew wand thrown to him by Gabe. Power thrummed at his fingers as he whirled around, firing off spells at the Dark Lord that had only seconds ago had the young Sergeant under the Cruciatus Curse. Picking up the mask that looked a little worse for wear, Tom Riddle once more became to icon of Lord Voldemort, standing tall as he faced his foe (his body trying to recuperate from the oversensitive nerves while his mind fought to keep itself from fogging up in the midst of battle, not that he would let the, see his weakness).
"Rogers!" cried Lord Falsworth, "You might need this!"
The red, white, and blue shield that Tom had grown to know so well soared above his head, caught by the deft hands of Captain Rogers. Steve flashed a grateful smile and shouted a jaunty "Thanks!" before going off and joining his Commandos in the fray, knocking out a HYDRA agent behind Tom with the shield's rim. Back to back, Captain America and Lord Voldemort fought through the waves of enemy soldiers that flooded the room to protect their respective leaders, while both Schmidt and Grindelwald attempted to disappear into the crowd.
Tom's mind began to tick as he and Steve chased the escaping men though the tunnel-like halls of the base. If Grindelwald was running, that meant that the anti-disapperation and anti-portkey wards were still in place (not that Tom could tell otherwise, considering his upgraded mask had been kicked to the wind by Mulciber). If the wards were still in place, that meant Grindelwald was trying to trap Tom inside the base while sealing the fate of his own followers.
Why? Why would a Dark Lord seal off all magical exits without an escape plan? Tom pondered this as they weaves through the halls, shooting off spells at oncoming blasts of blue and dark spells alike as the megalomaniacs tried to hinder their chase, trying to piece together this conundrum. Speaking of conundrums, why were Schmidt and Grindelwald running in the same direction? Shouldn't they have split up already, dividing their enemy so that they weren't bogged down by attacks? They've had plenty of opportunities to do so. Blue eyes narrowed as he took in yet another interesting fact. Grindelwald was always behind Schmidt, the Dark Lord following the Red Skull close by but never overtaking the man. This would be a hit to the man's pride unless the German wizard had no idea where he was going. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place. There was one artifact powerful enough to travel through such wards, and both men were aiming to reach it first.
"Steve!" Tom shouted as he chopped off an enemy (was it wizard or muggle? The black clothing made it rather confusing...) with the spinning rim of his own shield, "Schmidt's headed for the Tesseract!"
Before his Captain could give an answer to Tom's deduction, Schmidt slammed a button on the console next to the wall, and suddenly the doorway in front of them started to shut itself closed. The Red Skull, hearing Tom's words as they bounced off the walls, shot at Grindelwald angrily with his Tesseract-powered rifle, causing the Dark Lord to veer off in another direction to avoid being vaporized by the beams of pure magic. As the doors in front of them began to close, Steve threw his shield at the sliding panels, wedging the disc in between. Tom could not help but laugh at the ingenuity, but his mirth did not last long.
Their path was soon blocked by another HYDRA agent, which blasted a distracted Sergeant Riddle into the wall with a vertical column of fire. The young wizard had managed to cast a flame freezing charm before the flames could do much damage, but he was still seeing spots in his vision from where he hit his head on the steel walls. Shaking his head to clear his foggy mind, Tom stood up to regard this new hurdle.
This agent was quite larger than the regular ones, and appeared to have the same kind of suit that the agents who captured them in their way into the headquarters in the first place wore. Two large flamethrowers were mounted onto the armor, and behind the soldier Tom could see their targets heading further down the corridors (though now it was Schmidt that was top priority, considering the fact that Grindelwald had failed in his attempt to seize control of a weapon he couldn't even find) and away from sight. His Captain, now without his shield, fell back behind Tom, who positioned his shield to protect both of them from the onslaught as best he could.
The sound of gunshots rang from behind them, and the behemoth with the flamethrowers in front of them fell backwards, dead. Tom and Steve turned around to see Peggy jogging towards them, pistol in hand. A relieved smile came upon his Captain's face, the kind one gets when they see that particular loved one safe.
"You're late." was Steve's form of greeting, something the pair had taken to saying since that day when Tom first saw her.
Hopeless, the both of them, he thought to himself with a smile, saluting the woman who had come to their rescue.
"Weren't you about to..." Peggy began, motioning to the empty corridor and causing Steve to remember to reason why they were in the headquarters in the first place.
"Right!" was his answer as the soldier ran off to give chase to Schmidt, patting Tom on the back as he rushed off.
Tom and Peggy gave each other a single, knowing glance before heading off behind him, intent on finding where Grindelwald had run off to.
They jogged through the rather empty corridor, the silence almost eerie as the two of them searched for the missing Dark Lord. From other area of the facility screams and bangs could be heard, though any skirmishes seemed to be rather far off. This off-putting relative silence was not to last, however, as soon the thundering sound of boots against the metal floors reverberated from the walls, coming nearer to their location. Both wizard and muggle tensed at the noise, drawing their weapons at the approaching individual. Gunfire sounded as Tom raised his shield to protect himself, before he heard a groan come from the man who fired.
"Dammit, Sergeant, take off your mask!" barked Colonel Phillips, "You look too much like those damn HYDRA idiots with 'em on!"
Tom obeyed his superior, shucking off the mask after giving the Colonel a salute that properly conveyed his feelings on the matter (without being too disrespectful). Peggy watched with a quirk to one side of her mouth before saluting her boss in a stiffer manner. Since the path they had just taken obviously didn't lead to any Elder Wand waving Dark Lords, the three SSR members headed off at the next fork in the tunnels.
"Grindelwald's scuttled off somewhere." Sergeant Riddle reported as they rounded yet another bend, "But Schmidt's gone for the Tesseract. I assume it's on that plane that he made me and the others build back in the Austrian base. Captain Rogers has gone after him."
It appeared they were headed in the right direction, if the addition of enemy HYDRA soldiers were anything to go by. Tom briefly wondered where Grindelwald's followers had gone as he threw his shield at the soldier aiming his rifle towards Peggy (who in turn shot the HYDRA goon aiming for him). Now that he thought about it, none of the men he had faced thus far had been firing spells at him, only the familiar blue beams of the Tesseract-based HYDRA weapons. So where was Grindelwald's army? He most certainly had one hiding here, that Tom was sure of, but they had yet to show their faces. What were they waiting for?
"Sergeant Riddle!" shouted Peggy, snapping Tom from his distracted state, "Sounds like an aircraft is about to take off! We have to get to Steve!"
Tom followed Colonel Phillips and Agent Carter into a large hanger, killing the opposition that attempted to down them. A large tunnel lead off at the other end, the opening much larger than the ones they had just been traveling in. The rumbling sound of a giant locomotive emanated from it, confirming that Schmidt had reached his destination and Steve was most likely falling behind.
"Oh, really?" was Tom's sarcastic reply, "And how, pray tell, are we going to go about... ah."
His words died in his mouth as he took in the sight of the large automobile with the HYDRA insignia mounted on the front (how ostentatious, Schmidt was as bad as Grindelwald with his obsession with sticking his symbols everywhere he could), already facing the direction they needed to go. Climbing into the driver's seat (it was quite comfortable, he should get one of these things one day... perhaps Howard would help him tweak it) Tom quickly found the keys that most likely belonged to the car and stuck it into the ignition, turning it and smiling when the vehicle revved up immediately.
"This thing's a three seater." grunted Colonel Phillips, "You two help Rogers. I'll see if we can round up the rest of these bastards."
"Tell me if you run into any wizards." Tom replied with a salute as Peggy climbed into the back seat, "They've yet to show up to this party."
"You don't get to order me around, Sergeant!" retorted the Colonel, but the man gave Tom a short nod anyway.
With those parting words said, Tom slammed his foot down on the accelerator, causing the tires to screech as the two of them took off to help their star-spangled friend. Using the mirror, the young wizard noted that Peggy's face looked rather stricken (but then again, Tom was notorious for being rather vicious in his driving, hence why he generally wasn't allowed on civilian roads), causing Lord Voldemort to laugh aloud. It was no longer a high pitched, cold thing as it had been when he started out as a Howling Commando (his voice had deepened slightly due to the effects of his Jotunn heritage coming to the forefront, and now held warmth that stemmed from being with those he cared about), but still managed to retain its original manic energy. This only garnered him an eyeroll from his fellow Englander.
The tunnel they had gone into turned out to be some sort of underground runway, and up ahead Tom could clearly see the large aircraft (the "Valkyrie", if his memory was correct. What was with Schmidt and Norse mythology?) with its thrusters ablaze, picking up its speed gradually. As they got closer, a figure running (and hilariously failing) towards the retreating aircraft could be made out. With a wry smirk, Tom made a hard brake, the car squealing to a full stop next to a bewildered Captain America.
"Need a lift?" he greeted cheekily.
Steve gets into the seat next to Tom with a few quick steps, a smile on his lips. As soon as his Captain was completely situated, the youngest Commando rammed his foot into the accelerator once more, propelling the three of them closer to the Valkyrie.
"This is the one time I'm grateful for your crazy driving." Steve muttered out, causing a wide, manic smile to appear on the wizard's face, "Still not letting you anywhere near city streets, Tom."
A chuckle came from his throat as Tom shook his head, trying to focus on getting Steve onto the plane. By the way that the Valkyrie was speeding up in front of them, Schmidt had noticed their arrival and was attempting to outrun them (which wasn't hard, he had a plane and they only had a car). Two giant sliding doors opened, revealing the cold mountain terrain outside. Time was running short, and if Schmidt managed to take off before Steve could get on the aircraft, HYDRA would destroy every major city on the planet. He couldn't mess with the electronics of the car, and trying to hit the Valkyrie with a spell while the Tesseract was inside (along with an unknown amount of Tesseract-powered bombs) would almost certainly level the entire mountain.
Shit, Sergeant Riddle thought to himself, blue eyes scanning the array of buttons, switches, and displays in front of him for something that might be able to aid him, stopping at a rather ridiculously large red button. I wonder what this does...
As it turned out, the red button was exactly what they needed. Thrusters from the side of the car roared to life as soon as Tom pressed it, rocketing the trio forward. In seconds they had reached the tail end of the Valkyrie, the dark haired soldier steadying the vehicle so that one could leap from the seat from the right side. Steve, who was now standing on the seat with on leg on the outside of the car, readied himself for the jump.
"Keep it steady!" his Captain ordered over the noise, earning a salute from Tom (who did a rather dangerous form of driving with only his left hand for the motion).
"Wait!" the plea came from Peggy, who was leaning forward from her seat, fighting to stand up against the rushing wind.
Steve turned back, slightly confused, before he was pulled into a kiss by the brunette Agent. Blue eyes flecked with green conveyed both elation and surprise (though Tom shook his head slightly, ), and met with resolute brown.
"Go get him." Peggy stated.
An order.
With the kiss still obviously lingering in his mind, Steve then turned to Tom, who raised a single eyebrow at him.
"I'm not kissing you Steve." he told the supersoldier flatly, causing the man to chuckle in this moment that weighed so heavily on them.
Keeping the vehicle steady with his left hand (not an easy feat, mind you), the young soldier wrapped his arm around his Captain's back to bring him into a rather awkwardly positioned one-armed hug. This was reciprocated with both arms by Steve, who smiled into his shoulder. It was a brief, silent action that conveyed a deep connection between the brothers in arms.
"You owe me a drink when this is all over." Sergeant Riddle stated with a wide grin.
A promise.
Captain America nodded seriously as Tom returned both hands to the wheel (to Peggy and Steve's relief), pulling dangerously close to the speeding plane. The exit to the outside world was nearing, their window short. Tom drove beneath the left propeller and Steve ducked down, using his shield to protect himself from the whirring blades while the dark haired driver lowered his head so that he didn't get beheaded by the muggle contraption (and internally added propellers to the list of reasons why he hated airplanes). Once the spinning deathtraps were bypassed, Captain Rogers made the leap from the car to one of the landing wheels of the Valkyrie.
Just in time, too, considering that the second he did so the Valkyrie rose from the ground and took off to the sky. Tom had no time to witness it, however, as the runway ended abruptly on the alpine cliffside, forcing him into a maneuver that had the car braking and spinning around violently. When the car finally ceased moving, the back wheels were an inch shy of the road's end, with the vehicle facing the headquarters.
With the danger of plummeting to one's death out of the way, both Tom and Peggy turned in their seats to watch the Valkyrie climb higher into the sky. The wind and cold whipped at their faces, reminding them of their current predicament. Without taking her eyes off of the retreating aircraft, Peggy spoke to the young Commando.
"You put a tracking charm on him, didn't you? When you hugged him."
This earned a snort from her driver.
"What do you think I am, stupid?" quipped Lord Voldemort.
AN:
Oni: Before I finish the chapter, many of you have suggested I post Omakes. So here's the first one!
Gryffindorish Tendencies - March 1944
Smoke billowed to the ceiling of the Leaky Pot, mingling together so that one could not tell where each piece originated. Unless you were watching the smoke curl from the end of the cigarette itself, which was what James Buchanan Barnes was doing, staring at the end of the tobacco stick situated between his fingers, before closing his eyes as he sighed audibly. On his left was Steve Grant Rogers, who was at a loss for words, his face expressing enough for the two of them. On Bucky's right was the recipient of said look and the reason for his current headache - Tom Marvolo Riddle, who was for once fidgeting in his seat.
Good.
"In my defense," the teenage wizard muttered, "I'm usually not prone to such Gryffindorish tendencies."
There was silence between them, and the dark haired American could only hear the background noise of the bustling pub. Tom had taken to nervously fiddling with his wand (which apparently wasn't used for all magic, as he just found out), as he waited for one of the two older soldiers to speak, react, anything.
"So let me get this straight," Steve began, blue eyes mixed with green (a sign of his Irish heritage, something he was proud of) taking in the almost imperceptible shift of Tom's body language, indicating slight relief that they were still speaking to him, "You visit your maternal grandfather, who you've never met, in a broken down shack on the outskirts of an isolated town only to find that he's dead and that you've got an uncle."
"Yes." Tom answered shortly, not looking up from his wand-fiddling.
"And so the first thing you do after meeting him is hit him with a memory erasing spell and a spell that implants false memories before stealing his wand and family ring." Bucky deadpanned, wondering if this was what mothers felt like when dealing with their trouble-magnet children.
"I never said I was a saint..." the teenager mumbled lowly, but was cut off from further explanation by Steve.
"So then you go to the local inn instead of confronting your dad, who lived in a manor just up the hill from said shack because you felt like if you did, you probably would have killed him and his entire family if you got an answer you didn't like."
Tom squirmed in his seat, an action Bucky and Steve had done quite a bit under the stern and worried gaze of Sarah Rogers as they explained yet again why her anemic and asthmatic son was covered in bruises and sporting a bloody lip. Never had either of the two soldiers thought they would be on the other end of the situation, staring down at the boy they had unspokenly and unofficially adopted into their little, dysfunctional family. A little brother that seemed to have as much of a penchant for trouble and danger (if not more, if what they had just heard was true) as the two of them.
"Then after you stayed at the inn," Bucky continued after Steve, "You also wiped the memory of the innkeeper, which apparently alerted the wizard cops because it was a non-magic designation. You get spooked, and then you teleport with magic nearly a thousand miles away because the only farthest random place you could think of was a wooded area."
Silence.
"That you saw on a postcard in a travel store."
More silence.
"Once."
The teenage wizard opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky wasn't finished talking just yet. He didn't care what the actual magical name was for what he did, only the principle. Man, he was starting to sound like a parent. Could it be considered adoption if the orphan was almost grown up and was close to the age of the adopters?
"This is itself sounds insane, but then we factor in the knowledge that you'd only practiced teleporting close distances in a controlled environment and the fact that failure to properly teleport could lead to dismemberment."
"And the fact that using up your magic could actually kill you, and Apparating-" Ah, that was the word, Bucky thought to himself as Steve picked up where he had left off, "nine hundred something miles, unknowingly, definitely fits into that category."
"Again." Tom intoned delicately, his eyes of shifting shades of blue betraying sheepishness against an impassive face, "I'm usually not prone to such Gryffindorish tendencies. It was a rather odd twenty four hours for me."
"Rather odd!?" Bucky rebutted (he did not screech, he did not screech), "What part of 'you could have died' can't you get into your head? What if you had gotten caught by the wizard cops-"
"Aurors." Tom interrupted, which told Bucky he was feeling braver.
"Aurors." the American repeated before continuing his rant, "You would have been sent to jail or dismembered or dead from exhaustion because of poor impulse control! Don't you have anything else to say for yourself other than it wasn't something you normally did?"
The British teen blinked owlishly at the two Americans, not quite sure what they wanted him to say. Bucky waited as Tom's brilliant mind began to tick beneath the surface, looking for an answer to the question he had posed. A myriad of emotions passed rapidly through his eyes. Confusion, bewilderment, dawning understanding and then finally incredulity.
"I'm...sorry?" the youngest of the trio tried, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Steve and Bucky both relaxed their tense shoulders (if this was what having kids was like, Bucky would happily die a bachelor), nodding. Having Tom as a pseudo-little brother was sometimes laborious enough, he didn't want to think about the trouble a miniature Bucky (or Steve, his sickness had made the shit they got up to even worse as there was always the chance that the guy would collapse at even the slightest breeze) running around for him to round up.
"And that you'll try not to do something so life-endangering again." the American brunet added, "The last thing I need is for you to bite the dust before us. That just wouldn't be right."
This time Tom laughed, but it felt empty. Like a cover for something he had yet to share.
"Not sure if I could promise that, considering I'm a Commando like you now. Dying is almost a certainty in this business, no?" the British soldier replied almost nonchalantly, an eyebrow quirked, but Bucky could see in his eyes that the boy was anything but calm.
The eldest of the trio reeled in his 'Mama Bear Mode' once he realized that Tom was dangerously close to putting up the proverbial walls again. It seemed to happen every time anyone mentioned the notion that they might die, and he wasn't sure whether this was a fear of others dying or a fear of Tom's own demise.
"I just said 'before us'." Bucky snarked out, trying to bring back a genuine smile from the normally aloof teen.
To his relief, it worked. A smirk crept up onto Tom Riddle's pale face, as close to a real smile as he was going to get at this point. Still, he was thankful for small miracles.
"So what am I supposed to do? Kill you?" was the young man's retort.
Laughter bubbled from the three of them, and the topic turned to other things. Still, in the back of his mind Bucky promised himself that he would make sure that the orphan boy that he had grown so attached to didn't try anything as stupid as that ever again.
AN:
Oni: And now we're done! I hoped you liked both the chapter and the omake!
Bucky: Don't forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review.
Oni: And I will see you next time, My Pretties!