Author Notes:
IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ!
*clears throat* Well, I wanted to explain something. From this date I will be out of net for about nine months. I'm sorry to say that I don't think I'll be able to update in that time, in other words: you won't hear a word of me for nine months. I'm very, very sorry about this. I hope I will continue this story after that time although I most probably have lost all of my dear readers by that time *sigh* But it is inevitable.
Farewell then my good comrades, let's hope we'll meet again.
Chapter Eleven:
Angel woke up again only about an hour or two of sleep, both from the pain in his body and from the sound of the door and shuffling of feet. He heard two adults talk in hushed voices.
"That's alright, alright. Lie him back. There. Oh my!"
He heard the matron hurry to the other side of the room, muttering about atrocious Dark Lords who had the cheek to cast multiple Cruciatus curses on young men every night. He heard different charms and unintelligible whispers. It was about half an hour later when the matron huffed,
"Now Albus. Leave him alone and let him rest. There is nothing you can do for him that I can't."
"I never questioned your skill Poppy. I just felt…"
"I'm sure you have more important things to do," the woman said, shooing the headmaster out, "and for Merlin's sake Albus, please take this horrible thing with yourself."
Angel opened his eyes slightly to see Pomfrey pointing to a white Death Eater mask, thrown on the floor, a look of utter disgust on her face. Dumbledore looked extremely weary for a moment before picking up the mask and nodding to Pomfrey, leaving the room with a last look at his Potions Master.
He waited until the matron left for her room. All this time he hadn't heard as much as a word from Severus.
'He is dead. He is dead. I killed him. Dad felt the Mark and maybe even heard what we told each other.'
'He can't be. They don't heal the dead.'
'Perhaps it was their last try.' Angel gulped. He really didn't want the man's blood on his hands.
'I have to see for myself.'
'Don't be foolish! You are too weak to walk all the way.'
'I will manage.'
He inhaled deeply before flinging his legs down the bed and standing up. It took a moment to overcome the dizziness, and another to remember how to walk. The cot on which Severus was lying seemed impossibly far away. He used the edge of the bed for support and took a determined step forward. All his body hurt. He understood that he couldn't bend his left knee more than a bit and that breathing too deeply would result in fits of coughing. It took a long time to finish the route as he was painfully slow and had to stop every now and then to rest. The greatest problem was that Severus's cot was in the other row of beds, so he had to cross the aisle. It meant no support. He gulped and let go of the bedside table he was leaning against and put a wavering step into the empty area.
It wasn't a good idea.
At the second step, he wavered and tilted to one side. He struggled to keep himself upright, but the world was impossibly unstable and he could no longer remember why had he left the bed. He staggered and fell to the marble floor, face first.
*********************************
He blinked his eyes open at the sound of dull thud. He looked around the room. The large amount of white told him that it was the infirmary. He strained his eyes to see through the darkness but there was nobody else to be seen. All the beds were empty. He felt something was wrong. He looked again. There was no one. And it struck him.
'That's the point idiot! The boy!'
He sat up abruptly and immediately regretted it. He shut his eyes and opened them again until the world came into focus. He got down from the bed, shuddering from the sensation of cold marble on his bare feet. He felt weak and his throat was hoarse and dry. His mouth tasted bitter from the potions he had doubtlessly been fed. He looked around and took a step forward. There was the boy lying on his face on the floor. Didn't the Pomfrey woman have a clue whatsoever about her nursing duties?
****************************************
He felt cold. He could feel the cold stone floor touching his body. Every single part of his body ached. Breathing was almost impossible because of the pressure against his chest.
'I'm back in the dungeon,' he thought frightfully. 'No. Please. No.'
He could feel the pressure from his dad's heavy boot on his ribs. He could feel the acrid taste of blood in his mouth. He could almost hear his father, spitting words in Parsel tongue.
"…You are a shame to me, and to Salazar Slytherin…"
"No, please," he whimpered.
A hand touched his shoulder. Something was wrong. The curse had to come right now…or did they intend to continue the torture? He wanted to pull away but couldn't move. He felt like he was stunned. He heard a familiar voice from far away but couldn't make out the words as his father's voice echoed horribly through his head.
"…Shame…I disown you here and now. I refuse that you are my son, or Salazar Slytherin's heir…"
He heard an irritated grunt and was pulled to his feet, some body held him from under his shoulders and dragged him to a bed and put him gently on it. He was writhing.
" …May your pathetic spirit be damned forever…"
He was shaking…no, somebody had grabbed him by the shoulders and was shaking him.
'It's a nightmare. It's not real. Wake UP,' he heard himself think.
Somebody slapped him hard across the face and his eyes flashed open. At first he could see nothing but a blur of white. He blinked several times until he could make out a man, Severus Snape. He was looking down at him, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
"Severus," he said weakly, remembering the reason of his unsuccessful effort, "you are…alive."
"Why should I not be?" he snapped.
Angel sighed with relief and shut his eyes.
"One would think you would have the brains not to get out of bed," Snape said snidely. "I wanted to see whether you were alive."
"How very Gryffindor of you." Snape's voice was like acid.
Angel angrily opened his eyes, to see the Potions Master's towering figure at the end of the bed, arms crossed and smirking.
"Never call me that again Snape! Never. And," Angel decided to inform him of how he looked in hospital robes, " you look…gorgeous."
"Thank you very much. You look stupendous too," the man answered.
The faint hint of exhaustion behind the man's sarcastic voice turned Angel's attention to the main topic.
"What happened?"
"Nothing special, I just had a lovely chat with your father." There was a lengthy pause and Snape lied down on the adjoining bed.
"Sorry," Angel said quietly after another long minute.
********************************************
Severus wanted to retch. His head was spinning and his body was still tense because of the after effect of the Cruciatus curse. Chattering with the Dark Lord's offspring hadn't helped him in regaining his strength the slightest bit. And apparently it wasn't helpful to Angel either. He collapsed on his bed.
'The boy is already pained enough Severus. Is it all you can do? Adding insult to injury?'
'I can't help him. Last time I tried to help someone I took them straight to Voldemort.'
'Then SHUT UP! You needn't inflict more pain if you can't reduce it.'
Severus shut his eyes and sighed in frustration.
"Sorry," the boy said in a faint, barely audible voice. " It was because of me wasn't it?"
Severus felt the need to crack his head open against the wall. Damn Gryffindor selflessness. He had come to believe that it was their way of getting revenge; frustrating you to hell by making you feel more and more guilty by each of their words or acts. And here was the Gryffindor he had tortured to death, apologizing to him; apologizing to him.
"It is not a terribly rare occasion; and nobody got me into this but myself. And STOP THIS DAMNED GRYFFINDOR SHOW!"
"I told you don't call me that," the boy said angrily, raising on an elbow. Severus sneered; it was all far easier when your counterpart was violent.
"Why? That's what you are."
"NO! I'm not and you will be sorry if you continue this."
"Really? How?" Angel smirked.
"Honestly Snape, one would think you should know by now that I can kill you with as much as a snap of my finger. Disowned or not," the boy gulped and hesitated for a moment but his voice wasn't croaked or wavering when he continued, "I can always find a way to inform my…him…about your…uh…truer colors?"
Severus sneered. "You make me shudder."
"You think I can't do it?"
"I'm sure you can."
"What was that then?"
"It just that your threat is not quite as horrible as you think."
"Excuse me?"
There was a lengthy pause before Severus said, exhaustion far more evident in his voice than he would have appreciated,
"Because, Mr. Riddle, death is not always punishment. At times, it is a reward."
Severus turned his pitch black, bottomless eyes to lock with Angel's. The bitter, unnameable expression in them was almost too much to bear; Angel flinched and looked away. Snape sneered.
"Don't threaten what you cannot understand. It only shows your inexperience or despair," he added, shutting his eyes. Angel pondered on his words. Although irritating, Angel couldn't deny the truth in them. He scowled. That did not mean he had to like the fact.
**********************************
Arabella Figg was sitting beside her window. Looking at an old photo in the bright light of the early morning. Her face twisted into a hateful grimace as the tall boy bent his head to kiss the blonde girl, his black hair falling in his pale face. The girl in the photo giggled and waved happily. Arabella averted her eyes. She wanted to cry but had no tears left. How could Albus do this? She was starting to believe that there was some truth in the words of those who believed he was a crazy dotty old man. She sighed and stood up, putting the photo on the chair. She headed to the bathroom.
'I will go down for breakfast.'
She had imprisoned herself in her rooms all the previous day.
'I won't ruin my beautiful day for Voldemort's insufferable excuse of an offspring. Angel honestly, it is a rather ironic name for the Dark Lord's son isn't it?'
'It was Myra's favorite.'
She ignored the tiny voice and poured more shampoo on her hair.
'Argh! It's really greasy. I should take better care of my hair if I don't want to be known as the second Snape,' she thought, trying in vain to cheer herself up.
'That's alright Ari, don't let it get over you,' she thought as she chose a navy blue robe. 'It's not that bad. You can get your revenge. You can get Myra's revenge.' She nodded firmly to her tidy image in the mirror.
"You look determined my dear." The mirror said sleepily.
"I am," she answered. Tom was excessively wrong if he thought he could do anything using that brat.
'He will have detention with Filch all weekends and I will find a way to cancel his Hogsmeade trips permission.' She smiled and draped a thin cloak around her shoulders.
'You aren't the only Slytherin around Tom,' she thought as she walked down the corridor, planning the boy's first detention.
"Good morning Arabella," Albus said with a smile.
"Good morning Albus," she said airily as she sat down at the breakfast table, arranging the napkin on her legs and deciding that she was very hungry after eating nothing for a whole day.
"Can you pass the sausages please, Albus? Thank you."
"Oh sure. I'm happy you decided to join us. I was afraid you might be ill. The house elves said you wouldn't eat anything."
"I felt a little unwell, but I'm alright now. Thank you."
"I'm happy it was nothing serious. I'm afraid Poppy can't look after yet another patient." Arabella rose her eyebrows.
"Who is in the hospital wing? Severus again?"
"Severus is indeed in the hospital but I think he will be able to leave in about an hour. I meant Mr. Riddle. Poppy has to give him her full attention, considering the boy's state."
"Riddle is still in Hogwarts?" she asked incredulously. "I thought he left the day before yesterday."
"He actually did but he came back again the same night."
"I think was brought back would cover it better. Good morning Albus, Arabella," Poppy said as she sat down at the breakfast table.
"Good morning Poppy," Albus answered merrily, "how are your patients?"
"Severus left just half an hour ago, much sooner that I had given him permission. It's nothing earth shattering about the stubborn man though. And Mr. Riddle would be better hadn't he decided to ruin all my efforts and the progress of his healing by leaving his bed." The matron huffed.
"I still don't understand what are you talking about," Arabella said. "What is Riddle exactly doing in Hogwarts when he is supposed to be back with his daddy?"
Albus sighed wearily. "It's simple Arabella. Voldemort's reaction to the Sorting result was far more severe than we had imagined. I think Poppy can explain the rest better." Arabella turned to the matron who cleared her throat, regaining her composure after having winced horribly at the mention of Voldemort's name.
"Well, I don't think you are interested in details. But he is tortured, worse than anyone I have ever nursed. There have been six rounds of torture, according to Albus. The boy was found in the dark forest. Albus says he has been sent there by some obscure dark curse."
"Translocus Morbis," Arabella whispered to herself in a faint voice.
"I don't know, perhaps. But he is quite very lucky that he is not already killed." Arabella felt she had lost her appetite again.
'What then? A bastard kills another. Why should I be affected in any way?'
'For Heaven's sake Ari, he is just a child!'
'Voldemort's child.'
'He is Myra's child too.'
'He is a result of her sheer foolishness.'
'He is your best friend's son. You should at least try to help him.'
'You didn't think so a minute ago.'
'I did but you refused to listen. Don't be so stubborn. What would Myra say if she saw you treat her already injured son like this?'
Arabella rose from her chair.
"You didn't eat anything Arabella."
"I'm full. Thank you Albus."
"Will you go to the infirmary?"
"Why should I?" She arched an eyebrow.
"Nothing. Forget about it," Albus said, but he had a knowing smile on his face.
'I will NOT go there.' She vowed silently.
Half an hour later, she found that her legs had taken her to the hospital's door. She hesitated for a minute before turning the doorknob and entering soundlessly. She walked hesitantly over to the only occupied cot and silently pulled the curtain away. She felt her body go numb as she looked at the boy's frame and smooth features as sunlight shone over them from the window. There was a big healing bruise on his cheek and a few small scars and scratches all over his face. But he had a heavenly look in his peaceful sleep and with the sun shining over.
'He looks like Myra.'
'No. He looks exactly like his bastard of a father!'
'The exact shade of tan on his skin, the nose, the chin, you can hardly deny it Ari.'
The boy's lips moved. Arabella had no time to consider the boy's features any more as the boy kept mumbling.
"…No…dad…fire…why…mom…mom…mom…"
Arabella froze.
'It's only hallucination. He can't possibly…' She gulped. The boy was louder now and was writhing, trapped in a nightmare.
"No…no…NOOO!" Feeling utterly helpless, she hesitantly touched the boy's arm, but he pulled away and hissed in pain. His eyes flashed open; his unfocused gaze fell on her.
"Mom? Am I dead at last?" he asked weakly.
"No. I'm Arabella Figg. You are in Hogwarts," she said hoarsely, her throat dry.
The boy shut his eyes and sighed, which caused a fit of coughing. Arabella awkwardly helped him sit up.
"Should I call Poppy?" The boy shook his head and wiped his forehead on his sleeve.
"You were having a nightmare." The boy didn't answer and stared at his hands.
"You saw Myra?" Arabella kicked herself mentally as the boy looked at her, surprised.
"You knew my mother?"
"Ah…well…a little."
"She was your friend?"
"I'll go get Poppy," she said, turning abruptly to leave.
"Wait," she paid no attention to the boy's voice. "Please."
She walked faster, pretending not to hear the weak, young voice. She didn't go bring Poppy. She shut the infirmary's door behind herself, slipping down the wall to sit on the cold floor, holding her face in her hands. She didn't cry, didn't move; she just sat there for a long time feeling miserable, remembering old days, days she had tried hard to forget.
… " Oh Ari!"
Myra burst into their dorm, looking happy, flushing a deep shade of red.
"Ari you won't believe…ARI! Wake up!"
"Go 'way," Arabella mumbled sleepily, turning her back to the other girl. Myra pulled the covers away. Arabella shuddered from the permanent cold in the dungeons and sat up on the bed, glaring at her best friend.
"Give it back. I want to sleep."
"It's almost dinner time. How long do you want to sleep lazy bones?"
"I stayed awake all night for that stupid DADA test. Now give me back my blanket."
"Oh shut up Ari! You won't be able to sleep when I tell you the news." Arabella eyed her friend skeptically.
"What's it anyway?" Myra flushed again and giggled, stumping down beside Arabella and holding her friend's hands in her own shaky ones.
"Oh Ari. I can't believe it. He asked me to…to go to Hogsmeade with him. On Valentine's day! Can you imagine? He just came over and asked me out! I was just…stunned! I'm sure I made a big fool of myself." She laughed out aloud like a maniac. "Oh Ari dear I'm so…so happy!"
Arabella arched her eyebrows.
"Who?"
Her friend flushed violently and didn't say a word but Arabella caught the enthusiastic twinkle in her best friend's eyes.
"Oh no," she grimaced slightly. "Tell me it's not that awful mudblood."
"Ari! His name is Tom!" Arabella laughed out aloud.
"C'mon Myra! Everybody calls him that!"
"No they don't! And you'd better don't behave like Cassius Snape if you want to stay my friend," Myra retorted, crossing her hands on her chest. Arabella chuckled and leaned back against the bedpost. She knew it would be useless to warn Myra about the way befriending the boy would risk her standing in the Slytherin house. Myra was simply deaf and blind when it came to Tom Riddle…
"Arabella," she heard a worried voice, "Arabella, are you fine?" She opened her eyes to see Albus' worried face. She accepted his help to get up and rearranged her untidy hair.
"Yes, thank you. I suddenly felt…dizzy." She said weakly, avoiding Albus' gaze. She cursed herself for being so obvious when lying; she was supposed to be a Slytherin for Merlin's sake.
"Arabella," Albus said seriously. She looked up to the old man.
"Really Albus, I'm alright. I didn't sleep very well last night…" She stopped her untruthful row of excuses when she looked at the headmaster. There was a lengthy pause before Albus talked at last.
"You are a mature and experienced adult Arabella. I won't tell you what to do. I just ask you not to do anything you will regret later." She winced and nodded. Albus smiled kindly at her and gently patted her arm.
"Go take some rest. You look pale."
To Be Continued…