Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to ThreeOranges -- I read your
review and decided it was time for the next chapter
Chapter Eight -- The End of an Era
Dumbledore looked over at the two "children." He had insisted that they take a table by themselves over in the corner -- hoping to push the two of them together a little. It didn't appear to be working. Tom Riddle had tipped his chair back against the wall and was sipping on his third glass of butterbeer. Harry Potter was turned so that he was facing the wall and he had crumpled himself up into a little ball. Dumbledore guessed that he was probably crying.
Dumbledore smiled brightly when Tom finally began to speak. He guessed that the words being exchanged were not of the friendliest nature but at least out-right bickering would be better than the tense, miserable silence. Anything was better than that.
"For someone so famous, you certainly don't talk much," Tom smirked, leaning even farther back in his chair. "The world-renowned 'Boy Who Lived.'" It wasn't that Tom wanted to talk to Harry Potter -- It was simply the fact that the silence was killing him. "Come on," Tom thought to himself. "Do something! Snap at me, scream at me, try to strangle me . . . But just do something!" Tom couldn't stand this treatment coming from his young nemesis.
Harry wasn't responding.
"Tell me," Tom said, trying to get any sort of rise from the young boy. "How does it feel being bound to one of the most powerful Dark Lords the world had ever known?"
Harry still wasn't responding.
Tom decided to fall back onto a last resort and do something exceptionally cruel. Anything to get a reaction from this boy. "Whatever the case, I don't think that being bound to you should be quite as awful as I first thought. You're at least more attractive than your father was. Killing him was no great loss to the world."
That did it.
Harry snapped around in his chair, the hood of his robe falling down so that his face was finally visible.
"Just shut up, will you?" Harry shouted. "Just shut up and leave me alone, you wretched . . . thing! You horrible, miserable, disgusting thing!" Tom felt something wet dripping down his cheek. It was then that he realized that the boy had spat on him.
"Well," Tom thought to himself, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. "At least it was some sort of reaction. At least, I know I can still get under the boy's skin." For some reason, this didn't make Tom quite as happy as it should of. The boy hadn't turned back around to face the wall. Instead, his eyes were averted downward so that he wouldn't have to look at that "disgusting thing."
Tom glanced at the boy. Harry had grown since the last time Tom saw him. He was just beginning to come out of that awkward phase that all teenagers go through, thank god. He wasn't an unattractive boy, Tom was pleased to note. He was just . . . Harry Potter. That was distasteful enough for Tom.
Madame Rosmerta came over with Tom's fourth glass of butterbeer.
"I was just wondering," she said, smiling amiably, "Are you two related? You just look so much alike."
Harry glared at her but Tom was smiling right back with his usual amount of charm.
"No," Tom replied. "We're not related. We're just old . . . acquaintances."
"Enemies," Harry muttered so that only Tom could hear.
"I think I'll hold off on that fourth butterbeer," Tom said to Madame Rosmerta. "It's probably time for us to be getting back to Hogwarts."
"Whatever you say," Madame Rosmerta said, taking the butterbeer over to another table.
"It's either 'acquaintance' or 'intended,'" Tom said, his voice filled with invective.
"How 'bout you just leave me alone and we can have nothing to do with each other? You're nothing to me and I'm nothing to you," Harry sneered.
"Sorry Potter," Tom said, getting to his feet and smoothing out his cloak. "That's not the way things work."
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"The formalities?" Dumbledore asked, obviously confused. "What formalities?"
"The formalities," Tom repeated. They were in the boat, heading across the Lake to Hogwarts. Harry was once again crumpled up into a little ball in the stern, hood up and crying. "There are always formalities. Where am I going to live? What am I going to spend all of my time doing? If you couldn't tell, Hogwarts isn't the best place for me to be at the moment."
"Oh!" Dumbledore said, with sudden realization. "The formalities! Well, until July 31st, you will reside in Professor Snape's chambers. After that, you two will share a set of chambers."
"Really," Tom breathed. He heard a sharp sob from over in the stern and guessed that Harry was just as uncomfortable with the idea as he was.
"I was hoping that you would consider helping me with some projects during your spare time," Dumbledore said with a knowing glance at Tom. Tom could tell what that statement meant: "Hoping you would consider helping with some projects that students definitely aren't supposed to know about."
"I'll consider it," Tom said but his curiosity had already been peaked. What projects were being formulated at Hogwarts?
"You were our brightest student," Dumbledore smiled. "And now, if you would assist us, you would be the greatest help, really you would. You see Tom," and Dumbledore suddenly became very serious, "Have you not stopped to think of what will happen in the world of the magical arts now that you have come to Hogwarts?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Your reign in the Dark Arts has ended, Tom."
Tom started up at this. What? His reign -- ended? What on earth was Professor Dumbledore talking about? He was just beginning to reach a new height of power! Followers were gathering, fear was once again striking into the wizarding community . . . And now it was over?
"By having to stay at Hogwarts for the next two years, you will no longer be able to keep as tight a grip on your Death Eaters. Have you never thought that Lucius might try rising up against you? He is ambitious, you know. Almost too ambitious. With you temporarily out of the picture, Lucius will take control of the Death Eaters and begin to take your place."
Tom stared at Dumbledore, eyes wide in shock. Lucius? Take his place? But of course! Why hadn't Tom seen it before? Lucius was a part of the inner circle of Death Eaters -- He had friends. He had spent all of his time by Voldemort's side to cast away suspicion but now that Voldemort was out of the picture . . .
"How could I have been so blind?" Tom murmured and fleetingly noticed that Harry had lifted his head up. His eyes, still gleaming with tears, were now focused directly on Tom. "How could I have been so blind?"
"Without a doubt, you have lost your power over the Dark Forces. With an army of Death Eaters loyally standing behind Lucius, you will never be able to reclaim your rule. This is the end of an era, Tom. But you can still be great . . ."
Tom looked up at Dumbledore expectantly.
"Come and stay at Hogwarts, help us and work with us. You are extraordinarily gifted, Tom. You always have been. There is a war being waged here and we could use a brilliant wizard such as yourself. And paired with the illustrious Harry Potter . . . There would be no stopping you."
Tom seriously considered this.
"Think about it, Tom," Dumbledore said with complete confidence. "You could be powerful again. You could be great. Come over to our side and we can restore you to a place of prestige. Instead of brewing in infamy, we can make you famous! Your name will be praised everywhere. You will be adored. Admit that you haven't felt isolated these past few years, Tom. Admit that, coming to Hogwarts again, you didn't feel like a complete recluse."
Tom remained silent.
"You don't have to feel like that anymore. We can turn everything right again. You just have to help us. And the revenge that you could seek on Lucius Malfoy . . ."
This struck a chord with Tom. While he fancied the thought of no longer being a complete outcast, he adored the thought of revenge against that sniveling aristocrat. To hear Lucius Malfoy screaming out in pain while he muttered "Crucio" long into the night. It was practically blissful . . .
"I'll think about it," Tom smiled. Then on reflection: "You really did figure out how to put me in check. This binding spell worked out exactly the way you wanted it to. You must be very pleased with yourself."
Dumbledore looked over at Harry who was still sobbing.
"Not as much as you'd like to think."
Chapter Eight -- The End of an Era
Dumbledore looked over at the two "children." He had insisted that they take a table by themselves over in the corner -- hoping to push the two of them together a little. It didn't appear to be working. Tom Riddle had tipped his chair back against the wall and was sipping on his third glass of butterbeer. Harry Potter was turned so that he was facing the wall and he had crumpled himself up into a little ball. Dumbledore guessed that he was probably crying.
Dumbledore smiled brightly when Tom finally began to speak. He guessed that the words being exchanged were not of the friendliest nature but at least out-right bickering would be better than the tense, miserable silence. Anything was better than that.
"For someone so famous, you certainly don't talk much," Tom smirked, leaning even farther back in his chair. "The world-renowned 'Boy Who Lived.'" It wasn't that Tom wanted to talk to Harry Potter -- It was simply the fact that the silence was killing him. "Come on," Tom thought to himself. "Do something! Snap at me, scream at me, try to strangle me . . . But just do something!" Tom couldn't stand this treatment coming from his young nemesis.
Harry wasn't responding.
"Tell me," Tom said, trying to get any sort of rise from the young boy. "How does it feel being bound to one of the most powerful Dark Lords the world had ever known?"
Harry still wasn't responding.
Tom decided to fall back onto a last resort and do something exceptionally cruel. Anything to get a reaction from this boy. "Whatever the case, I don't think that being bound to you should be quite as awful as I first thought. You're at least more attractive than your father was. Killing him was no great loss to the world."
That did it.
Harry snapped around in his chair, the hood of his robe falling down so that his face was finally visible.
"Just shut up, will you?" Harry shouted. "Just shut up and leave me alone, you wretched . . . thing! You horrible, miserable, disgusting thing!" Tom felt something wet dripping down his cheek. It was then that he realized that the boy had spat on him.
"Well," Tom thought to himself, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. "At least it was some sort of reaction. At least, I know I can still get under the boy's skin." For some reason, this didn't make Tom quite as happy as it should of. The boy hadn't turned back around to face the wall. Instead, his eyes were averted downward so that he wouldn't have to look at that "disgusting thing."
Tom glanced at the boy. Harry had grown since the last time Tom saw him. He was just beginning to come out of that awkward phase that all teenagers go through, thank god. He wasn't an unattractive boy, Tom was pleased to note. He was just . . . Harry Potter. That was distasteful enough for Tom.
Madame Rosmerta came over with Tom's fourth glass of butterbeer.
"I was just wondering," she said, smiling amiably, "Are you two related? You just look so much alike."
Harry glared at her but Tom was smiling right back with his usual amount of charm.
"No," Tom replied. "We're not related. We're just old . . . acquaintances."
"Enemies," Harry muttered so that only Tom could hear.
"I think I'll hold off on that fourth butterbeer," Tom said to Madame Rosmerta. "It's probably time for us to be getting back to Hogwarts."
"Whatever you say," Madame Rosmerta said, taking the butterbeer over to another table.
"It's either 'acquaintance' or 'intended,'" Tom said, his voice filled with invective.
"How 'bout you just leave me alone and we can have nothing to do with each other? You're nothing to me and I'm nothing to you," Harry sneered.
"Sorry Potter," Tom said, getting to his feet and smoothing out his cloak. "That's not the way things work."
------------------------------------------------------------------------- --- -----------------------------------------
"The formalities?" Dumbledore asked, obviously confused. "What formalities?"
"The formalities," Tom repeated. They were in the boat, heading across the Lake to Hogwarts. Harry was once again crumpled up into a little ball in the stern, hood up and crying. "There are always formalities. Where am I going to live? What am I going to spend all of my time doing? If you couldn't tell, Hogwarts isn't the best place for me to be at the moment."
"Oh!" Dumbledore said, with sudden realization. "The formalities! Well, until July 31st, you will reside in Professor Snape's chambers. After that, you two will share a set of chambers."
"Really," Tom breathed. He heard a sharp sob from over in the stern and guessed that Harry was just as uncomfortable with the idea as he was.
"I was hoping that you would consider helping me with some projects during your spare time," Dumbledore said with a knowing glance at Tom. Tom could tell what that statement meant: "Hoping you would consider helping with some projects that students definitely aren't supposed to know about."
"I'll consider it," Tom said but his curiosity had already been peaked. What projects were being formulated at Hogwarts?
"You were our brightest student," Dumbledore smiled. "And now, if you would assist us, you would be the greatest help, really you would. You see Tom," and Dumbledore suddenly became very serious, "Have you not stopped to think of what will happen in the world of the magical arts now that you have come to Hogwarts?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Your reign in the Dark Arts has ended, Tom."
Tom started up at this. What? His reign -- ended? What on earth was Professor Dumbledore talking about? He was just beginning to reach a new height of power! Followers were gathering, fear was once again striking into the wizarding community . . . And now it was over?
"By having to stay at Hogwarts for the next two years, you will no longer be able to keep as tight a grip on your Death Eaters. Have you never thought that Lucius might try rising up against you? He is ambitious, you know. Almost too ambitious. With you temporarily out of the picture, Lucius will take control of the Death Eaters and begin to take your place."
Tom stared at Dumbledore, eyes wide in shock. Lucius? Take his place? But of course! Why hadn't Tom seen it before? Lucius was a part of the inner circle of Death Eaters -- He had friends. He had spent all of his time by Voldemort's side to cast away suspicion but now that Voldemort was out of the picture . . .
"How could I have been so blind?" Tom murmured and fleetingly noticed that Harry had lifted his head up. His eyes, still gleaming with tears, were now focused directly on Tom. "How could I have been so blind?"
"Without a doubt, you have lost your power over the Dark Forces. With an army of Death Eaters loyally standing behind Lucius, you will never be able to reclaim your rule. This is the end of an era, Tom. But you can still be great . . ."
Tom looked up at Dumbledore expectantly.
"Come and stay at Hogwarts, help us and work with us. You are extraordinarily gifted, Tom. You always have been. There is a war being waged here and we could use a brilliant wizard such as yourself. And paired with the illustrious Harry Potter . . . There would be no stopping you."
Tom seriously considered this.
"Think about it, Tom," Dumbledore said with complete confidence. "You could be powerful again. You could be great. Come over to our side and we can restore you to a place of prestige. Instead of brewing in infamy, we can make you famous! Your name will be praised everywhere. You will be adored. Admit that you haven't felt isolated these past few years, Tom. Admit that, coming to Hogwarts again, you didn't feel like a complete recluse."
Tom remained silent.
"You don't have to feel like that anymore. We can turn everything right again. You just have to help us. And the revenge that you could seek on Lucius Malfoy . . ."
This struck a chord with Tom. While he fancied the thought of no longer being a complete outcast, he adored the thought of revenge against that sniveling aristocrat. To hear Lucius Malfoy screaming out in pain while he muttered "Crucio" long into the night. It was practically blissful . . .
"I'll think about it," Tom smiled. Then on reflection: "You really did figure out how to put me in check. This binding spell worked out exactly the way you wanted it to. You must be very pleased with yourself."
Dumbledore looked over at Harry who was still sobbing.
"Not as much as you'd like to think."
