I'm terribly apologetic for taking my ever-loving time updating this. It's been over a year, but hopefully, there's still some interest in this. These past 12 months alone, have been the worst of my life. While I'm not entirely through the wilderness yet (still homeless) the future isn't as bleak.
Even so, I'm coming back to this story with a clear mind and one that isn't so critical of my abilities.
I'll be honest, I only have a loose idea of where I want this to go, but wherever it happens to end up, I'll make sure it's a riot.
We're going to have so much fun together.
As a side note, I've usurped a WordPress blog under the same name for other short writings. The blog itself is 'Strange Spaces'. Also, I have a FictionPress account, again, under AvisSoul.
To get myself back into the groove with this fic, I've been writing other little things here and there. Be warned, some things were written under the influence of wine. You'll know.
To be blunt, Harry was a complete and utter mess. The evening thus far had wrought nothing but calamity, most notably of his own doing. Surely, if Harry stopped to think about it, to truly consider what had transpired, he would come to the conclusion that he, absolutely, without a doubt, had utterly lost his mind.
Of course, Harry was much too distracted. It wasn't every evening that one found themselves attempting to hide an unconscious witch. Nor was it common to unleash another Dark Lord onto the world, one that is even creepier than his doppelganger. Let's not even mention killing your very own headmaster.
Speaking of said Tom Riddle, Dark Lord or whatever this apparition was, Harry noted, had left him for the time being. During any other circumstance, he would be relieved.
For the moment, all he needed was to get Madam Rosmerta inside and away from possible onlookers.
It wasn't hard. Harry was able to stun her just before she had run back inside the shop. With a muttered Levicorpus, Harry pulled her body inside.
It was quiet, darker than usual. He had never been inside the Three Broomsticks after hours and he thought how strange it was to not hear the muffled chatter, clinking glasses and laughter.
The lack of sound made it even more profound when he haphazardly knocked Rosmerta's head into a set of wooden chairs.
Riddle's voice was soft in comparison to the screeching noise of disgruntled chairs.
"You're taking too long."
Harry jumped, his concentration waning from the spell. More screeching and oomph, as the witch's body fell, hitting all the same chairs as before.
He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared down at the disheveled woman.
"Yeah, so what ever happened to staying quiet? The whole thing about being watched?"
The shadows in the dimly lit establishment only impressed the curves on Riddle's face, making him seem even more real than in the light of the moon. He didn't frown or smile when he looked at Harry, but Harry could see a glimmer of something in his eyes. Riddle's wide, staring eyes.
"You refused to listen to my orders, so I turned to another method, one that I knew would gather your attention"
Regardless. She was under the control of another..." He turned his head an adjacent window
Harry's eyes lit with curiosity as he looked down at the tangled witch. "She was imperiused?" Harry questioned.
Curiosity shifted to suspicion, as the last half hour replayed over and over. He could see Rosetta's eyes; the strange, repetitive words which could only be the work of someone who-
"You knew, didn't you?" How could he have not noticed the strange way she was speaking? Of course she was! Harry's chest tightened as he narrowed his eyes at Riddle, the thing which had forced fear and humiliation upon him… which had done it just for hysterics, because what other purpose was there?
The shiver of boiling rage etched across Gryffindor skin. He was being had by… by another diary of the dark Lord, and this one didn't take any time. At all. Of course not, Harry thought. Then he remembered why the locket was so important… why it was a dangerous piece of dark magic… of Lord Voldemort's power.
Harry gripped his wand fiercely, spells and spite on the tip of his very tongue-
But… not a single syllable would pass his lips.
Numb fear trickled from his shoulders to his toes.
"It Is unimportant." Whispered Riddle, as he regarded Harry's wand.
Riddle stepped closer to the frozen form of Potter, who again, watched the other with trepidation. He had to kill it. He needed to overcome this bewitchment, this… this sedentary thrall of a dark illusion. He was real and Riddle wasn't… entirely. Madness!
Yet, Riddle merely turned away, void and clearly unconcerned over Harry's momentary bloodlust.
"I'd hazard a guess, due to the hue outside … They're waiting for you at the school"
Harry slowly turned his head, to finally notice the unnatural green tint illuminating Hogsmeade through the windows.
Harry's heart was pounding in his chest. He swayed where he stood, thoughts of what was wrong and what he needed to do racing and baffling his mind. He left Rosmerta on the floor, running to the windows. The name 'Draco Malfoy' resonated within his mind, throwing in all the possible implications.
Draco Malfoy had succeeded at bringing Death Eaters into the school and he was here, concerned with what now seemed insignificant in comparison. Students could get hurt… they could already be hurt, and Hermione and Ron… would they be alright? Could they be hurt already? Dead? But Harry refused to believe it. Instead, he focused on the desire to leave. Right. Now.
But he couldn't just leave Madam Rosmerta under a table.
"Forget her. She won't recall a thing when she wakes."
Harry nodded distractedly at the other's words.
Leaving caution to the wind, Harry left Rosmerta on the floor and Tom Riddle watching, in his wake.
She must have been fully prepared for me, he thought, as he grabbed a broom that was propped next to the main entrance.
Outside, a few scattered wizards stood on the main path, pointing and looking in the direction of Hogwarts, whispering to one another. It was easy to see now. The night sky was poisoned.
In a short period of time, Harry would find precisely what had transpired while he had been caught dealing with the barmaid.
Alone, Harry landed at the main entrance to Hogwarts. It was clear, even before entering that the castle was in pandemonium. Even through the large double doors, Harry could hear yelling and screams.
Spells of all variations flashed in the tall windows to only make him more anxious. He wouldn't wait any longer. He threw the broomstick to the side, fashioned his Holly wand and slid through the double doors.
It was easy to tell who was a foe, but the faces of the students were muddled. Students and Death Eaters alike were strewn on the floor amongst the fray, rubble and spattered blood here and there. No one noticed him.
Harry carefully made his way around the walls, looking for a face he knew.
Vibrant purple banged and collided with the wall inches from his head. Stone blocked his vision and dust momentarily filled his lungs, as he crouched over, coughing.
"Harry Potter!" Someone called out from the opposite side of the chamber and before Harry could properly react, everyone stopped.
No spells were cast; all focused towards the area in which the person had called out Harry's name.
The silence that followed could make the dead turn their heads to listen.
Yet,the air in the room had changed; the Death Eaters whispered, chanted, filled with a new, vital purpose: to weed out Potter.
The Death Eaters spread out, calling his name. Some sang it like it was the sweetest sound… others spat their intentions crudely. It was no matter for Harry, though… whether he was present or not, the rest of the school understood quickly that Harry Potter must not be found.
He need not react. The screaming of spells returned, now a symphony of "Harry Potter", "Stupefy" and something darker and more desperate than before.
He felt that foreign sensation tugging within, urging him to disillusion. It was simple. He knew what to do and where to go. He wouldn't be hindered.
Swiftly, he made his way around the crowd, stopping once to observe a wolf-like man, blood draped over his front and grazing the throat of a young girl.
He thought he should be horrified, that he should do something about it, but those emotions were muted. He didn't know who she was and her fate had been sealed. It was irrelevant.
He wanted to find Ron and Hermione. He needed to find Draco Malfoy. Now.
The halls and staircases were a frenzy of students running in groups, not going anywhere in particular. He had to take care that none of them shoved him on his way up.
A group of small Ravenclaw girls screamed, running from a short, wobbling man in a black, hooded cloak. Harry thought he'd make a quick example of him. As the man meant to run past him, Harry lifted his leg, tripping the Death Eater.
He didn't wait to hear the sound of snapping limbs.
Yet, the moment Hermione's voice came echoing down the hall, he shuddered, as the magical force that was the Dark Lord's soul released its hold on his person.
Last Note: I think… I would be able to update this frequently if I make shorter chapters. You guys won't mind, right? I could do a few long ones here and there.