Chapter Eighteen -- Fever and Potential Death
"Tom?" Harry said, opening his eyes and rolling over to find the other side of the bed decidedly empty. "Tom? Where are you?"
Harry went to sit up. "Oh god!" he shouted, slamming his head back against the pillow. He was suddenly struck with a wave of sickness unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. His stomach was churning, his head was pounding, and every muscle in his body was sore.
"Great," Harry said between clenched teeth. "A fever. That's exactly what I need."
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"Have you seen Harry?" Ron asked Hermione at breakfast that morning.
"No," Hermione answered, sipping on a glass of orange juice. "He's probably off somewhere with Tom doing . . . whatever it is that they do together."
Ron grimaced. The last thing he wanted to think about was Tom doing anything with his best friend. Although the logical and understanding Hermione had come to terms with the situation, Ron had yet to. Maybe it was due to the fact that Ron was a boy and the thought of a male homosexual relationship was more threatening to him. Maybe it was due to the fact that Ron had a long-withstanding fear of Lord Voldemort. Maybe it was due to the fact that Ron just didn't want to see his best friend get hurt at the hands of his long-time archenemy. Whatever the case, Ron had yet to come to grips with the relationship.
"You don't approve of Harry and Tom being together, do you?" Hermione asked, grabbing an apple from the middle of the table. "You think that Tom should leave, don't you?"
"Yes," Ron said, taking a bite out of an grapefruit and accidentally squirting some of the citrus juice into Hermione's eye.
"Ouch!" Hermione yelped. "Can't you please be more careful with that fruit?"
Ginny Weasley had edged down the table to sit with her elder brother.
"If you ask me, I don't approve of any of it," Ginny snuffed. "I think Tom's an absolutely awful boy and I don't think he has any business with Harry."
"That's just because you have a crush on Harry," Ron said, rolling his eyes at his sister. Even though she was only a year younger, he still thought of her as immature to the extreme.
"I do not!" Ginny exclaimed but the sudden redness of her cheeks stated otherwise. "I just don't think that Harry Potter should be getting mixed up with Tom Riddle. He's dangerous, after all."
"Look," Hermione sighed. "It's not like Harry has a choice. He has to be with Tom -- all the time. If Tom ever travels an extensive distance from Harry, one of them is going to suffer for it. I read it in this book you see -- One of them will suffer fever and potential death."
Ron wrinkled up his nose. "Fever and potential death? Charming little spell isn't it?"
"The fact is," Hermione said with a very studious air, "If Tom Riddle were ever to leave Hogwarts, Harry would probably end up dying."
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It was eleven o'clock and there was still no sign of Harry Potter. Ron and Hermione were sitting in potions, trying to concoct an Aging Potion but not having much luck with it. Severus Snape was walking around the room, looking for a unsuspecting Gryffindor to deduct points from, when he noticed that one of the places in the classroom was empty.
"Where's Mister Potter?" Snape asked harshly, walking to the front of the classroom.
"We haven't seen him all day, Professor," Ron muttered out.
"And did any of you think to check his room?"
"I thought Tom might have been in there with him and I didn't want to interrupt . . ."
Ron blushed deeply at the thought of what could be going on behind those closed doors. The rest of the class erupted into laughter. Professor Snape stood there, a scowl twisting his lips and obviously not amused with the comment.
"Go check his room now," Snape said in the most threatening tone he could manage. That was enough to send Ron flying out of the room. The rest of the class stood there, in a state of nervousness and anticipation. Professor Snape stood there -- Looking idly out of a window and drumming his fingers against the desk. As Hermione examined the mysterious and inhospitable professor, it seemed that he was almost . . . concerned. Professor Snape turned around to face the class and was greeted with fifty blue, green, and brown eyes staring directly at him.
"Well? Get back to your work or I'll begin deducting points."
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Harry lay on his bed -- Shivering with cold one moment and burning with red heat the next. It was one of those fevers that diluted all reality. Harry no longer had any sense of time -- He couldn't tell if an hour had passed since he first woke or a second. Thus, he had no reason to wonder where Tom had gone and if he'd be coming back any time soon. Harry found himself falling into fantasies where the waves of nausea had no influence and the pounding headache was forgotten . . .
Tom always filled Harry's fantasies -- The beautiful, majestic creature with the jet-black hair and the crimson eyes that always enchanted his dreams and his reality. Tom was everything to Harry -- He was power and passion and beauty and divinity . . . He was the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. Harry found himself floating back to when he had been a baby . . .
He was nestled in his crib, crying as loudly as he could. But, cry as he might, his mother would not come. Then, all of a sudden, a tall black shape loomed over Harry's crib. Thin fingers reached out to stroke the child's face and Harry fell silent under the calming touch. The hood was drawn back to reveal a man in his mid fifties. His hair had not yet begun to gray and was still a delightful ebony. Thin lines were just beginning to form around the corners of his eyes and his mouth but they only made him look gentile. Crimson eyes stared down on him with a light that Harry had never seen before. They made him coo softly. The man smiled at the delighted sounds coming from the child.
"Harry Potter," the man smiled, his fingers light and feathery against the boy's cheek. "So young and innocent and such a shame."
The man pulled out what appeared to be a long tree branch -- Like something Harry saw when his parents took him to the park.
"Just relax child," the man said softly. "Relax and this will all be finished in a moment's time. Then you can go and join your parents. You miss your mother, don't you?" Harry laughed as the man's fingers darted to a spot that happened to be ticklish.
"You miss your mother," the man said, as if it were an affirmation to himself. "You're going to want to be with her -- And your father. We can never forget about your father."
Harry reached up and tried to grab the branch, as if it were a plaything. The man chuckled and pulled the branch just out of Harry's reach.
"I'm afraid, my child, that you cannot have this. But I will show you something . . . extraordinary . . ."
The man pointed the wand at the child.
"Avada Kedavra," the man said, quietly so as not to disturb the blissful child. The tip of the branch glowed a lovely green color and the rest was darkness.
Harry was disturbed from the memory by the sound of his door opening and closing.
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Ron knocked on Harry's door three times before finally using the Alohomora charm. The door opened and Ron entered to find a pale, shivering Harry -- Twisting and turning, the covers wrapped around his frail form.
Ron slowly approached Harry, not wanting to startle him. He sat down next to the bed and realized that Harry didn't even notice that he had come into the room.
"Harry?"
No response.
"Tom?" Ron called into the depths of the chambers, momentarily frightened for his own well-being. What if this was some kind of curse that Tom had put on Harry? Ron gulped thinking that, if Tom were here and in a hostile mood, he could very possibly get zapped with the Avada Kedavra curse and then . . . No more Ron.
There was no response. It appeared that Tom had left.
Another thought came to Ron and he quickly held the back of his hand against Harry's forehead. It was unnaturally warm. Tom was gone. Harry was burning up.
"Fever and potential death," Ron muttered to himself.
"Tom?" Harry said, opening his eyes and rolling over to find the other side of the bed decidedly empty. "Tom? Where are you?"
Harry went to sit up. "Oh god!" he shouted, slamming his head back against the pillow. He was suddenly struck with a wave of sickness unlike anything he'd ever experienced before. His stomach was churning, his head was pounding, and every muscle in his body was sore.
"Great," Harry said between clenched teeth. "A fever. That's exactly what I need."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
"Have you seen Harry?" Ron asked Hermione at breakfast that morning.
"No," Hermione answered, sipping on a glass of orange juice. "He's probably off somewhere with Tom doing . . . whatever it is that they do together."
Ron grimaced. The last thing he wanted to think about was Tom doing anything with his best friend. Although the logical and understanding Hermione had come to terms with the situation, Ron had yet to. Maybe it was due to the fact that Ron was a boy and the thought of a male homosexual relationship was more threatening to him. Maybe it was due to the fact that Ron had a long-withstanding fear of Lord Voldemort. Maybe it was due to the fact that Ron just didn't want to see his best friend get hurt at the hands of his long-time archenemy. Whatever the case, Ron had yet to come to grips with the relationship.
"You don't approve of Harry and Tom being together, do you?" Hermione asked, grabbing an apple from the middle of the table. "You think that Tom should leave, don't you?"
"Yes," Ron said, taking a bite out of an grapefruit and accidentally squirting some of the citrus juice into Hermione's eye.
"Ouch!" Hermione yelped. "Can't you please be more careful with that fruit?"
Ginny Weasley had edged down the table to sit with her elder brother.
"If you ask me, I don't approve of any of it," Ginny snuffed. "I think Tom's an absolutely awful boy and I don't think he has any business with Harry."
"That's just because you have a crush on Harry," Ron said, rolling his eyes at his sister. Even though she was only a year younger, he still thought of her as immature to the extreme.
"I do not!" Ginny exclaimed but the sudden redness of her cheeks stated otherwise. "I just don't think that Harry Potter should be getting mixed up with Tom Riddle. He's dangerous, after all."
"Look," Hermione sighed. "It's not like Harry has a choice. He has to be with Tom -- all the time. If Tom ever travels an extensive distance from Harry, one of them is going to suffer for it. I read it in this book you see -- One of them will suffer fever and potential death."
Ron wrinkled up his nose. "Fever and potential death? Charming little spell isn't it?"
"The fact is," Hermione said with a very studious air, "If Tom Riddle were ever to leave Hogwarts, Harry would probably end up dying."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
It was eleven o'clock and there was still no sign of Harry Potter. Ron and Hermione were sitting in potions, trying to concoct an Aging Potion but not having much luck with it. Severus Snape was walking around the room, looking for a unsuspecting Gryffindor to deduct points from, when he noticed that one of the places in the classroom was empty.
"Where's Mister Potter?" Snape asked harshly, walking to the front of the classroom.
"We haven't seen him all day, Professor," Ron muttered out.
"And did any of you think to check his room?"
"I thought Tom might have been in there with him and I didn't want to interrupt . . ."
Ron blushed deeply at the thought of what could be going on behind those closed doors. The rest of the class erupted into laughter. Professor Snape stood there, a scowl twisting his lips and obviously not amused with the comment.
"Go check his room now," Snape said in the most threatening tone he could manage. That was enough to send Ron flying out of the room. The rest of the class stood there, in a state of nervousness and anticipation. Professor Snape stood there -- Looking idly out of a window and drumming his fingers against the desk. As Hermione examined the mysterious and inhospitable professor, it seemed that he was almost . . . concerned. Professor Snape turned around to face the class and was greeted with fifty blue, green, and brown eyes staring directly at him.
"Well? Get back to your work or I'll begin deducting points."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
Harry lay on his bed -- Shivering with cold one moment and burning with red heat the next. It was one of those fevers that diluted all reality. Harry no longer had any sense of time -- He couldn't tell if an hour had passed since he first woke or a second. Thus, he had no reason to wonder where Tom had gone and if he'd be coming back any time soon. Harry found himself falling into fantasies where the waves of nausea had no influence and the pounding headache was forgotten . . .
Tom always filled Harry's fantasies -- The beautiful, majestic creature with the jet-black hair and the crimson eyes that always enchanted his dreams and his reality. Tom was everything to Harry -- He was power and passion and beauty and divinity . . . He was the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end. Harry found himself floating back to when he had been a baby . . .
He was nestled in his crib, crying as loudly as he could. But, cry as he might, his mother would not come. Then, all of a sudden, a tall black shape loomed over Harry's crib. Thin fingers reached out to stroke the child's face and Harry fell silent under the calming touch. The hood was drawn back to reveal a man in his mid fifties. His hair had not yet begun to gray and was still a delightful ebony. Thin lines were just beginning to form around the corners of his eyes and his mouth but they only made him look gentile. Crimson eyes stared down on him with a light that Harry had never seen before. They made him coo softly. The man smiled at the delighted sounds coming from the child.
"Harry Potter," the man smiled, his fingers light and feathery against the boy's cheek. "So young and innocent and such a shame."
The man pulled out what appeared to be a long tree branch -- Like something Harry saw when his parents took him to the park.
"Just relax child," the man said softly. "Relax and this will all be finished in a moment's time. Then you can go and join your parents. You miss your mother, don't you?" Harry laughed as the man's fingers darted to a spot that happened to be ticklish.
"You miss your mother," the man said, as if it were an affirmation to himself. "You're going to want to be with her -- And your father. We can never forget about your father."
Harry reached up and tried to grab the branch, as if it were a plaything. The man chuckled and pulled the branch just out of Harry's reach.
"I'm afraid, my child, that you cannot have this. But I will show you something . . . extraordinary . . ."
The man pointed the wand at the child.
"Avada Kedavra," the man said, quietly so as not to disturb the blissful child. The tip of the branch glowed a lovely green color and the rest was darkness.
Harry was disturbed from the memory by the sound of his door opening and closing.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - ----------------------------------------
Ron knocked on Harry's door three times before finally using the Alohomora charm. The door opened and Ron entered to find a pale, shivering Harry -- Twisting and turning, the covers wrapped around his frail form.
Ron slowly approached Harry, not wanting to startle him. He sat down next to the bed and realized that Harry didn't even notice that he had come into the room.
"Harry?"
No response.
"Tom?" Ron called into the depths of the chambers, momentarily frightened for his own well-being. What if this was some kind of curse that Tom had put on Harry? Ron gulped thinking that, if Tom were here and in a hostile mood, he could very possibly get zapped with the Avada Kedavra curse and then . . . No more Ron.
There was no response. It appeared that Tom had left.
Another thought came to Ron and he quickly held the back of his hand against Harry's forehead. It was unnaturally warm. Tom was gone. Harry was burning up.
"Fever and potential death," Ron muttered to himself.
