Chapter Nineteen -- The Flight for Preservation
Harry lay in the infirmary -- Sweat trickling in steady streams down his cheeks and his forehead, groaning in pain. Hermione sat by his side, softly dabbing his cracked lips with water from time to time. Ron paced the room back and forth.
"Leave it to Dumbledore to travel this weekend," Ron spat, upset beyond logic and reason. "While he's off in Germany, Harry's here on the brink of death!"
"I wouldn't exactly call it 'the brink of death' . . . yet," Hermione said, trying not to let her own fright and anxiety show. "Besides, he'll be back any day now, I'm sure of it."
"They did send him a letter, didn't they?" Ron asked, looking for affirmation.
"McGonagall sent one yesterday," Hermione said.
"This is all Tom's fault," Ron said bitterly. "He should have known better than to run off! He should have known what it would do to Harry . . . He should have known . . ."
"He probably didn't know," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "Dumbledore probably just told him never to leave Hogwarts. I bet he didn't tell him all of the details."
"What? That Harry would die?"
"I just don't think that Tom would go running off if he thought that Harry's life would be jeopardized because of it," Hermione said. She didn't know Tom Riddle well but she knew that he cared enough about Harry not to put him into direct danger. He had proven himself to Hermione that one morning in the Great Hall when he had stood for Harry's honor.
"I hope you're right," Ron said -- Glancing out the window and hoping for Dumbledore's return.
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Dumbledore knocked on the door of the old Potter household -- Now a decrepit, run-down building with monstrous vines growing up the side.
"Tom?" Dumbledore called. "Tom, please open the door. It's a matter of the utmost importance."
The door slowly opened and Tom appeared, glaring at Dumbledore.
"What do you want?" he asked bitterly. "And how did you know I was here?"
"Where else would you have gone?" Dumbledore asked, smiling gently at Tom. "This house holds so many important emotions for you. It represents your guilt, your self-loathing, your ambition, your fear . . . By coming to this house, you are truly brewing in your own misery."
Tom opened the door wider.
"How is the young child doing?" he asked, feigning indifference.
"By 'the young child,' I'm going to take it that you mean Harry Potter," Dumbledore replied. "He is the reason that I have come to call on you. I am afraid we do not have much time."
"Much time for what?" Tom asked, gripping the door until his knuckles were white. "What's happened to him?"
"He is feverish," Dumbledore stated. "Close to the point of death."
"What?" Tom asked, suddenly feeling weak.
"Let's step inside, Tom," Dumbledore said. "You can have a seat. You suddenly do not look very well."
Tom and Dumbledore went into the living room -- Tom falling onto a couch, Dumbledore sitting down next to him.
"There's nothing wrong with me," Tom said simply. "I've been feeling perfectly fine. I . . . I don't have a temperature and I haven't been ill . . ."
"That's why binding works so well," Dumbledore said, patting Tom on the hand. "Only one of you has to be ill. If he dies, you die. It's as simple as that."
"I must return then," Tom said, getting up from the couch and gathering his cloak from a nearby closet.
"Before we return," Dumbledore started, "I have to ask you why you left Hogwarts. You obviously were developing deep feelings for young Mister Potter and you never acted like the atmosphere of the school upset you much . . . Why would you ever take off like that?"
"Don't you know?" Tom asked, genuinely shocked. Dumbledore shook his head. "I left because I realized that I didn't understand myself anymore. I had lost all sense of my identity." Tom sat down on the couch momentarily. "For most of my life, I have been the Dark Lord Voldemort. That has been my identity -- A murdering, unfeeling, despised creature. Now, all of a sudden, I'm Tom Riddle."
"A completely different person," Dumbledore said, coming to an understanding of the situation.
"Exactly. I'm reading books and making friends and practicing Quidditch for God's sake!" Tom laughed. "And I'm falling in love . . . This isn't supposed to happen to me. I am Lord Voldemort!"
"You were Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore corrected, taking Tom by the hand. "You are Tom Riddle now. You can feel and laugh and play and learn and love. You can enjoy every day and live it to the fullest. Consider it to be a second chance, Tom. This is a second chance on having everything you missed out on. Forget the corruption and the guilt and just try to let yourself be happy for once."
"It's harder than you make it sound," Tom smiled. "Just coming here . . . I remember that cooing little baby that I would have killed . . ."
"It's over Tom," Dumbledore said. "That was a long time ago. You reaffirmed it yourself. You're a completely different person now. You can't become buried in the sins of your past. It's time to move forward."
Dumbledore rose from the couch and offered Tom his hand.
And Tom Riddle took it, gratefully.
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They returned to Hogwarts around nightfall -- Both exhausted from the trip. Dumbledore rushed Tom up to the infirmary, to Harry. They froze in the doorway, unnoticed by the two figures in the room. Ron and Hermione were devotedly sitting vigil next to Harry's bed.
"He looks bad," Ron said softly. "I hope Dumbledore hurries up."
"He'll be fine," Hermione said, lying her hand softly on Ron's. "Trust me, won't you? Dumbledore will get here in time and he'll do . . . something."
"Something?" Ron scoffed.
"He'll make everything better."
Dumbledore smiled at the trusting nature of the children and pushed Tom forward into the light of the room. Hermione and Ron turned around suddenly. Hermione smiled brightly at Tom while Ron scowled bitterly.
"I knew you'd come back," Hermione said, getting up and giving Tom a quick kiss on the cheek. "I knew that you wouldn't leave him like this."
"I had no idea that this would happen," Tom said, smiling at the girl's caring and understanding nature.
"I didn't think so," Hermione replied. That softened Ron's frown a little and it disappeared altogether when Tom walked over and gently caressed Harry's cheek. Harry's eyes batted open and blinked a few times.
"Tom?" he asked, his voice ragged and hoarse.
"I'm here now," Tom said in his most soothing tone.
"I . . . Where'd you go?"
"It's of no importance now. Don't speak, just rest." And, at that command, Harry closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.
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Harry's fever broke that night. Tom never left his side.
Harry lay in the infirmary -- Sweat trickling in steady streams down his cheeks and his forehead, groaning in pain. Hermione sat by his side, softly dabbing his cracked lips with water from time to time. Ron paced the room back and forth.
"Leave it to Dumbledore to travel this weekend," Ron spat, upset beyond logic and reason. "While he's off in Germany, Harry's here on the brink of death!"
"I wouldn't exactly call it 'the brink of death' . . . yet," Hermione said, trying not to let her own fright and anxiety show. "Besides, he'll be back any day now, I'm sure of it."
"They did send him a letter, didn't they?" Ron asked, looking for affirmation.
"McGonagall sent one yesterday," Hermione said.
"This is all Tom's fault," Ron said bitterly. "He should have known better than to run off! He should have known what it would do to Harry . . . He should have known . . ."
"He probably didn't know," Hermione said, matter-of-factly. "Dumbledore probably just told him never to leave Hogwarts. I bet he didn't tell him all of the details."
"What? That Harry would die?"
"I just don't think that Tom would go running off if he thought that Harry's life would be jeopardized because of it," Hermione said. She didn't know Tom Riddle well but she knew that he cared enough about Harry not to put him into direct danger. He had proven himself to Hermione that one morning in the Great Hall when he had stood for Harry's honor.
"I hope you're right," Ron said -- Glancing out the window and hoping for Dumbledore's return.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------
Dumbledore knocked on the door of the old Potter household -- Now a decrepit, run-down building with monstrous vines growing up the side.
"Tom?" Dumbledore called. "Tom, please open the door. It's a matter of the utmost importance."
The door slowly opened and Tom appeared, glaring at Dumbledore.
"What do you want?" he asked bitterly. "And how did you know I was here?"
"Where else would you have gone?" Dumbledore asked, smiling gently at Tom. "This house holds so many important emotions for you. It represents your guilt, your self-loathing, your ambition, your fear . . . By coming to this house, you are truly brewing in your own misery."
Tom opened the door wider.
"How is the young child doing?" he asked, feigning indifference.
"By 'the young child,' I'm going to take it that you mean Harry Potter," Dumbledore replied. "He is the reason that I have come to call on you. I am afraid we do not have much time."
"Much time for what?" Tom asked, gripping the door until his knuckles were white. "What's happened to him?"
"He is feverish," Dumbledore stated. "Close to the point of death."
"What?" Tom asked, suddenly feeling weak.
"Let's step inside, Tom," Dumbledore said. "You can have a seat. You suddenly do not look very well."
Tom and Dumbledore went into the living room -- Tom falling onto a couch, Dumbledore sitting down next to him.
"There's nothing wrong with me," Tom said simply. "I've been feeling perfectly fine. I . . . I don't have a temperature and I haven't been ill . . ."
"That's why binding works so well," Dumbledore said, patting Tom on the hand. "Only one of you has to be ill. If he dies, you die. It's as simple as that."
"I must return then," Tom said, getting up from the couch and gathering his cloak from a nearby closet.
"Before we return," Dumbledore started, "I have to ask you why you left Hogwarts. You obviously were developing deep feelings for young Mister Potter and you never acted like the atmosphere of the school upset you much . . . Why would you ever take off like that?"
"Don't you know?" Tom asked, genuinely shocked. Dumbledore shook his head. "I left because I realized that I didn't understand myself anymore. I had lost all sense of my identity." Tom sat down on the couch momentarily. "For most of my life, I have been the Dark Lord Voldemort. That has been my identity -- A murdering, unfeeling, despised creature. Now, all of a sudden, I'm Tom Riddle."
"A completely different person," Dumbledore said, coming to an understanding of the situation.
"Exactly. I'm reading books and making friends and practicing Quidditch for God's sake!" Tom laughed. "And I'm falling in love . . . This isn't supposed to happen to me. I am Lord Voldemort!"
"You were Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore corrected, taking Tom by the hand. "You are Tom Riddle now. You can feel and laugh and play and learn and love. You can enjoy every day and live it to the fullest. Consider it to be a second chance, Tom. This is a second chance on having everything you missed out on. Forget the corruption and the guilt and just try to let yourself be happy for once."
"It's harder than you make it sound," Tom smiled. "Just coming here . . . I remember that cooing little baby that I would have killed . . ."
"It's over Tom," Dumbledore said. "That was a long time ago. You reaffirmed it yourself. You're a completely different person now. You can't become buried in the sins of your past. It's time to move forward."
Dumbledore rose from the couch and offered Tom his hand.
And Tom Riddle took it, gratefully.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- - -----------------------------------------
They returned to Hogwarts around nightfall -- Both exhausted from the trip. Dumbledore rushed Tom up to the infirmary, to Harry. They froze in the doorway, unnoticed by the two figures in the room. Ron and Hermione were devotedly sitting vigil next to Harry's bed.
"He looks bad," Ron said softly. "I hope Dumbledore hurries up."
"He'll be fine," Hermione said, lying her hand softly on Ron's. "Trust me, won't you? Dumbledore will get here in time and he'll do . . . something."
"Something?" Ron scoffed.
"He'll make everything better."
Dumbledore smiled at the trusting nature of the children and pushed Tom forward into the light of the room. Hermione and Ron turned around suddenly. Hermione smiled brightly at Tom while Ron scowled bitterly.
"I knew you'd come back," Hermione said, getting up and giving Tom a quick kiss on the cheek. "I knew that you wouldn't leave him like this."
"I had no idea that this would happen," Tom said, smiling at the girl's caring and understanding nature.
"I didn't think so," Hermione replied. That softened Ron's frown a little and it disappeared altogether when Tom walked over and gently caressed Harry's cheek. Harry's eyes batted open and blinked a few times.
"Tom?" he asked, his voice ragged and hoarse.
"I'm here now," Tom said in his most soothing tone.
"I . . . Where'd you go?"
"It's of no importance now. Don't speak, just rest." And, at that command, Harry closed his eyes and fell into a peaceful sleep.
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Harry's fever broke that night. Tom never left his side.
