Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who left reviews -- especially Akima
Maxwell and Three Oranges (My favorite fanfiction.net author)
Chapter Six -- Coping with the Unavoidable
"Harry, you can't just sit in your bed all day and look out the window," Hermione said gently. "Why don't you please just tell me what's wrong?" There was no response from Harry so she quoted the old Muggle maxim, "A trouble shared is a trouble halved."
"Go away," Harry said, coldly. He was amazed at his own hostility. Hermione was only trying to be helpful . . . But he didn't want her help at the moment. He wanted her to leave him alone. He wanted everyone to just leave him alone.
"Is it about the binding spell?" Hermione asked, refusing to take Harry's orders. "Of course it's about the binding spell," she said, more to herself than to Harry. "You said you wouldn't be happy with whomever you were bound to. Have you found out who it is yet? Are you unhappy about that?"
Harry simply buried his head deeper in the pillow. "If only you knew, Hermione," he thought to himself. But he just didn't feel up to telling her the identity of his "soulmate."
"Harry, we can . . ."
There was a knock at the door.
"Potter?" The voice was bitter but tired -- Severus Snape.
"You better go Hermione," Harry said, completely devoid of any emotion. "I think Professor Snape wants to talk to me."
"Oh," Hermione said, shrinking back a little like he'd just slapped her. "Well, if you need me, I'll be down in the Common Room. Whatever's happening to you, Harry, I'll understand and support you. I'm always there for you."
"Go," Harry demanded and this time, Hermione did go . . . And Severus Snape came into the room.
"Potter, I want to talk to you about this binding spell."
Harry sighed. Of course. What else would he have wanted to talk about? The weather? Quidditch? Harry's now non-existent love life?
"Harry," Snape said gingerly. "Dumbledore told me that you're bound to Lord . . . Tom Riddle. I was wondering if we could talk about what's going on at the moment. You seem fairly confused and upset and I've been worried about you -- We all have." Harry was a bit taken aback. First of all, it was the first time that Snape had called him by his first name -- Harry. It was also the first time that Snape had ever shown any concern for his arch-rival's son.
"Sure," Harry said, more from shock than actually wanting to talk about anything.
"From the moment that Dumbledore first told me about that binding spell, just a little while after you had first come to Hogwarts, I had a feeling that you were going to be the one -- the one who would be bound to Tom. You just reminded me of him so much . . ."
Harry shuddered at the thought of being so much like Tom Riddle. Were they really that similar? Did everyone see this except for him?
"I was surprised when the Sorting Hat didn't place you in Slytherin, actually," Snape said, his lips on the verge of a smile -- Something that bothered Harry immensely. "So much like Tom and I thought you would be . . ." Snape cut himself off with a meaningful glance at Harry. Harry could complete the Potion Master's sentence -- "So much like Tom and I thought you would be a great and powerful Dark Lord, just like him. I thought that your heart might be in the wrong place too, Harry James Potter."
"I know this is going to be hard for you," Snape continued. "And you've probably heard Dumbledore say that people are bound together for a reason. I'm not going to lie to you: It's going to be difficult at first. You two are probably going to hate each other more than life and it's going to be a sheer hell having to spend almost every moment of every day with one another. Not only that but the fact that binding is such a damned romantic affair . . ." Harry shuddered -- Again with the romance! Why did everyone have to rub it in that binding was a romantic thing? "I mean, binding it usually connected with sonnets and walks in the park and diamonds and all of those things that make prominent appearances in dime- store romance novels."
The extremely nonchalant way that Snape said all of this absolutely killed Harry. "Don't teachers have any shame?" he wondered fleetingly.
"I know you've probably heard Dumbledore say that Tom Riddle is a boy who could make you very happy," Snape said as Harry lay back down onto the bed, resting his head on the down pillow. "This is true. Tom Riddle could make you extraordinarily happy. And once you two get through these first difficult months, I think that you'll both be very pleased with this relationship. There are going to be some things that you're never going to be able to put behind you -- The fact that he killed your parents, the fact that he tried to kill you all of those times. He's going to have some of the same problems -- Living with the fact that he almost lost everything he had because you just had to be 'The Boy Who Lived.' You two are going to argue and bicker and sometimes straight out fight . . . But you two are going to be happy. I know that Dumbledore told you almost this exact same thing but I just had a feeling that, when he said it, you wouldn't believe it. Dumbledore is such a kind and good person. I, on the other hand, am neither kind nor good. What I tell you is simply the truth. And I feel as if you can believe me."
Harry nodded solemnly.
"I'll leave you now. I just wanted to tell you . . . Dumbledore isn't just trying to make you feel better. He's telling you the truth about this -- As amazing as it might sound. You will meet Tom Riddle, you will grow to know him, you will fall in love with him, and the two of you will be happy."
And with that, Snape left Harry with his own thoughts.
"God," Harry muttered to himself. "What does he think I am: Completely ignorant? Of course I don't believe that one!"
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Voldemort slept late which wasn't normal for him. He fleetingly wondered if that potion that Dumbledore had given him the night before wasn't having some strange, unnatural effects. He had taken the potion, after much contemplation, before he went to bed -- Just as Dumbledore had instructed. He closed his eyes. Nothing felt wrong with him. He quickly got out of bed and stretched, noticing that he felt much better than he had the night before. He felt suppler.
He walked in front of the mirror to make sure that Dumbledore hadn't, in a fit of irritation, turned him into a living Medusa or something of the sort. Although Dumbledore had seemed kind and compassionate the night before, Voldemort knew that he was capable of cruel things.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror and laughed quietly. Some sort of enchantment had been placed on the mirror! It was like the Mirror of Erised -- only better Voldemort noted appreciatively, looking himself up and down.
In the mirror, he saw the child he had once been -- The charming and cocky Tom Riddle. With jet black hair that fell carelessly over his eyes, with that smug little smile that he was absolutely notorious for, with that golden skin that caught the eye when he passed . . . He felt melancholy all of a sudden. Had he ever actually been this lovely? Or was it some sort of dream that had passed?
When Voldemort realized that he was getting wistful, he decided that it was time to put an end to foolish and childish daydreams. He would seriously reprimand whoever had enchanted his mirror. "Inclino," he sighed with a wave of his wand.
But the reflection didn't change.
"Inclino," he tried again, waving his wand more firmly this time. Nothing happened. Was something wrong? Had Dumbledore somehow dissolved Voldemort's powers? Had Dumbledore put some sort of curse on Voldemort's wand? What was going on here?
Voldemort stuffed his wand into one of the deep pockets in his robes and stormed out of his chambers. "If Dumbledore did anything brash," Tom thought to himself, "He would pay for it." Tom smiled at the thought of Dumbledore suffering within an inch of his life for whatever evil he had done the illustrious Tom Riddle.
No, not Tom Riddle.
The illustrious Lord Voldemort.
Voldemort was in this state of sheer rage when he found himself lying flat on the floor. He sat up, rubbing the bump that was quickly developing on his head. Lucius Malfoy had accidentally run into him while turning a corner.
"God Lucius," Voldemort snapped. "Why do you even bother staying here? You make it perfectly obvious that you loathe, detest, and abhor me? Why do you feel the need to play the respectful lapdog? Just go home to your wife and that little Draco."
Lucius meanwhile was staring at him in wide-eyed shock.
"My Lord, what happened to you?" he stammered out.
"What do you mean what's happened to me? Dumbledore must have cast some sort of awful enchantment on me . . ."
"Awful?" Lucius scoffed. "This is . . . You look . . . My God . . ." Lucius stumbled out a bunch of fragments before finally settling on: "Tom Riddle?"
Voldemort was taken aback to say the least. Then it suddenly occurred to him.
"Lucius," he said slowly. "How do I appear to you?"
"Why . . . You're . . . You're attractive!" Lucius exclaimed, as if this were the most unbelievable thing he had ever experienced. "You're young and lovely and charming and . . ." Lucius quickly remembered his place. "My Lord."
Voldemort pulled up the sleeve of his robe and saw that it was true. His skin was still that healthy golden color. He began to laugh -- almost sweetly.
"Leave it to you, Dumbledore," Voldemort -- Tom Riddle -- smiled. "Leave it to you to think up something like this."
Chapter Six -- Coping with the Unavoidable
"Harry, you can't just sit in your bed all day and look out the window," Hermione said gently. "Why don't you please just tell me what's wrong?" There was no response from Harry so she quoted the old Muggle maxim, "A trouble shared is a trouble halved."
"Go away," Harry said, coldly. He was amazed at his own hostility. Hermione was only trying to be helpful . . . But he didn't want her help at the moment. He wanted her to leave him alone. He wanted everyone to just leave him alone.
"Is it about the binding spell?" Hermione asked, refusing to take Harry's orders. "Of course it's about the binding spell," she said, more to herself than to Harry. "You said you wouldn't be happy with whomever you were bound to. Have you found out who it is yet? Are you unhappy about that?"
Harry simply buried his head deeper in the pillow. "If only you knew, Hermione," he thought to himself. But he just didn't feel up to telling her the identity of his "soulmate."
"Harry, we can . . ."
There was a knock at the door.
"Potter?" The voice was bitter but tired -- Severus Snape.
"You better go Hermione," Harry said, completely devoid of any emotion. "I think Professor Snape wants to talk to me."
"Oh," Hermione said, shrinking back a little like he'd just slapped her. "Well, if you need me, I'll be down in the Common Room. Whatever's happening to you, Harry, I'll understand and support you. I'm always there for you."
"Go," Harry demanded and this time, Hermione did go . . . And Severus Snape came into the room.
"Potter, I want to talk to you about this binding spell."
Harry sighed. Of course. What else would he have wanted to talk about? The weather? Quidditch? Harry's now non-existent love life?
"Harry," Snape said gingerly. "Dumbledore told me that you're bound to Lord . . . Tom Riddle. I was wondering if we could talk about what's going on at the moment. You seem fairly confused and upset and I've been worried about you -- We all have." Harry was a bit taken aback. First of all, it was the first time that Snape had called him by his first name -- Harry. It was also the first time that Snape had ever shown any concern for his arch-rival's son.
"Sure," Harry said, more from shock than actually wanting to talk about anything.
"From the moment that Dumbledore first told me about that binding spell, just a little while after you had first come to Hogwarts, I had a feeling that you were going to be the one -- the one who would be bound to Tom. You just reminded me of him so much . . ."
Harry shuddered at the thought of being so much like Tom Riddle. Were they really that similar? Did everyone see this except for him?
"I was surprised when the Sorting Hat didn't place you in Slytherin, actually," Snape said, his lips on the verge of a smile -- Something that bothered Harry immensely. "So much like Tom and I thought you would be . . ." Snape cut himself off with a meaningful glance at Harry. Harry could complete the Potion Master's sentence -- "So much like Tom and I thought you would be a great and powerful Dark Lord, just like him. I thought that your heart might be in the wrong place too, Harry James Potter."
"I know this is going to be hard for you," Snape continued. "And you've probably heard Dumbledore say that people are bound together for a reason. I'm not going to lie to you: It's going to be difficult at first. You two are probably going to hate each other more than life and it's going to be a sheer hell having to spend almost every moment of every day with one another. Not only that but the fact that binding is such a damned romantic affair . . ." Harry shuddered -- Again with the romance! Why did everyone have to rub it in that binding was a romantic thing? "I mean, binding it usually connected with sonnets and walks in the park and diamonds and all of those things that make prominent appearances in dime- store romance novels."
The extremely nonchalant way that Snape said all of this absolutely killed Harry. "Don't teachers have any shame?" he wondered fleetingly.
"I know you've probably heard Dumbledore say that Tom Riddle is a boy who could make you very happy," Snape said as Harry lay back down onto the bed, resting his head on the down pillow. "This is true. Tom Riddle could make you extraordinarily happy. And once you two get through these first difficult months, I think that you'll both be very pleased with this relationship. There are going to be some things that you're never going to be able to put behind you -- The fact that he killed your parents, the fact that he tried to kill you all of those times. He's going to have some of the same problems -- Living with the fact that he almost lost everything he had because you just had to be 'The Boy Who Lived.' You two are going to argue and bicker and sometimes straight out fight . . . But you two are going to be happy. I know that Dumbledore told you almost this exact same thing but I just had a feeling that, when he said it, you wouldn't believe it. Dumbledore is such a kind and good person. I, on the other hand, am neither kind nor good. What I tell you is simply the truth. And I feel as if you can believe me."
Harry nodded solemnly.
"I'll leave you now. I just wanted to tell you . . . Dumbledore isn't just trying to make you feel better. He's telling you the truth about this -- As amazing as it might sound. You will meet Tom Riddle, you will grow to know him, you will fall in love with him, and the two of you will be happy."
And with that, Snape left Harry with his own thoughts.
"God," Harry muttered to himself. "What does he think I am: Completely ignorant? Of course I don't believe that one!"
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Voldemort slept late which wasn't normal for him. He fleetingly wondered if that potion that Dumbledore had given him the night before wasn't having some strange, unnatural effects. He had taken the potion, after much contemplation, before he went to bed -- Just as Dumbledore had instructed. He closed his eyes. Nothing felt wrong with him. He quickly got out of bed and stretched, noticing that he felt much better than he had the night before. He felt suppler.
He walked in front of the mirror to make sure that Dumbledore hadn't, in a fit of irritation, turned him into a living Medusa or something of the sort. Although Dumbledore had seemed kind and compassionate the night before, Voldemort knew that he was capable of cruel things.
He looked at his reflection in the mirror and laughed quietly. Some sort of enchantment had been placed on the mirror! It was like the Mirror of Erised -- only better Voldemort noted appreciatively, looking himself up and down.
In the mirror, he saw the child he had once been -- The charming and cocky Tom Riddle. With jet black hair that fell carelessly over his eyes, with that smug little smile that he was absolutely notorious for, with that golden skin that caught the eye when he passed . . . He felt melancholy all of a sudden. Had he ever actually been this lovely? Or was it some sort of dream that had passed?
When Voldemort realized that he was getting wistful, he decided that it was time to put an end to foolish and childish daydreams. He would seriously reprimand whoever had enchanted his mirror. "Inclino," he sighed with a wave of his wand.
But the reflection didn't change.
"Inclino," he tried again, waving his wand more firmly this time. Nothing happened. Was something wrong? Had Dumbledore somehow dissolved Voldemort's powers? Had Dumbledore put some sort of curse on Voldemort's wand? What was going on here?
Voldemort stuffed his wand into one of the deep pockets in his robes and stormed out of his chambers. "If Dumbledore did anything brash," Tom thought to himself, "He would pay for it." Tom smiled at the thought of Dumbledore suffering within an inch of his life for whatever evil he had done the illustrious Tom Riddle.
No, not Tom Riddle.
The illustrious Lord Voldemort.
Voldemort was in this state of sheer rage when he found himself lying flat on the floor. He sat up, rubbing the bump that was quickly developing on his head. Lucius Malfoy had accidentally run into him while turning a corner.
"God Lucius," Voldemort snapped. "Why do you even bother staying here? You make it perfectly obvious that you loathe, detest, and abhor me? Why do you feel the need to play the respectful lapdog? Just go home to your wife and that little Draco."
Lucius meanwhile was staring at him in wide-eyed shock.
"My Lord, what happened to you?" he stammered out.
"What do you mean what's happened to me? Dumbledore must have cast some sort of awful enchantment on me . . ."
"Awful?" Lucius scoffed. "This is . . . You look . . . My God . . ." Lucius stumbled out a bunch of fragments before finally settling on: "Tom Riddle?"
Voldemort was taken aback to say the least. Then it suddenly occurred to him.
"Lucius," he said slowly. "How do I appear to you?"
"Why . . . You're . . . You're attractive!" Lucius exclaimed, as if this were the most unbelievable thing he had ever experienced. "You're young and lovely and charming and . . ." Lucius quickly remembered his place. "My Lord."
Voldemort pulled up the sleeve of his robe and saw that it was true. His skin was still that healthy golden color. He began to laugh -- almost sweetly.
"Leave it to you, Dumbledore," Voldemort -- Tom Riddle -- smiled. "Leave it to you to think up something like this."
