The Company We Keep
By Indoor Living
-:-
Hagrid found, when he managed to open his eyes again, that his vision was clouded by blood. He could just about make out a crumpled figure in the corner of the room, unconscious but clearly breathing. It was Harry. Every instinct told him to get up and go over there, to help the boy, but it was costing him all of his effort to try and push himself up from the floor. He leaned heavily on his mighty arms, feeling a pain rip through his wounded and bloody shoulder, but he paid it no mind. He wasn't the one who was important here, it was Harry who needed his help. He had almost managed to heave himself into a sitting position when a sharp blow to his stomach sent him crashing to the floor again, so hard it made the Shrieking Shack tremble under his weight.
"Yes, I'll admit these Muggle attacks are a little primitive," Voldemort said softly as he forced his boot into Hagrid's chest again. "But they certainly are effective." Hagrid didn't need to look into that terrible face to know that Voldemort was sneering. Hagrid did not cry out when Voldemort kicked him for a third time, he would not give that bastard the satisfaction. He did wonder, however, why Voldemort was drawing out his death this much. Why not just kill him now and then move straight onto Harry? Voldemort's boots echoed over the dusty, creaking floorboards, inching ever closer to Hagrid, who closed his eyes, ready for the end. Another spell was muttered, something which Hagrid had never heard before, and instead of meeting his blessed demise, he felt a strange warmth spread throughout his body. Though he was by no means well again, he was certainly strong enough to push himself to sitting, and this he did slowly, knowing that Voldemort was likely just to strike him down again, out of his own sense of twisted sick pleasure.
"You must forgive me," Voldemort said, carefully placing his wand back into his robes. "Healing spells have never really been my forte." Hagrid raised a quizzical eyebrow at the Dark Lord, his eyes now healed fully and restoring to him his very unique sense of defiance. With a worried glance at Harry, Hagrid decided it would be best to stall Voldemort and maybe give Harry something of a chance, but as expected Voldemort was already one step ahead. "Don't be so foolish Rubeus," he said in his rasping voice. "I will kill the boy, there is no denying that. But I will kill you first and spare you the horrors of watching the brat die." Hagrid coughed the blood from his mouth, trying to find his voice.
"Why?" he finally managed to croak. Voldemort began to pace around the shack, his red eyes glancing over everything but the other two figures in the room.
"I am, by no means, a noble man. Why, it would be a little ostentatious of me to even claim to be a man, but I do have a frightfully good memory Rubeus." He paused and fixed the half-giant with a vile stare. "As do you, I am sure."
"Yes Tom, I do," Hagrid replied. Voldemort's eyes flickered briefly at the sound of his old Muggle name, but he let it pass.
"I do not forget those who have served me-"
"I never served you!" Hagrid bellowed, causing dust to cascade down from the rafters.
"Be silent or I shall make you silent," Voldemort said hastily, withdrawing his wand again and pointing it at Hagrid. Hagrid closed his eyes, but no spell hit him. Daringly, he slowly opened them again. Voldemort's wand was still level with his forehead, but he looked almost bored to be there, as though he had other things to do and he really was just wasting his time. "As I was saying," he said, dropping his wand to his side. "I do not forget those who have fought beside me, whatever the cause. And you were one of those people Rubeus."
"I would never figh' for you!" Hagrid growled. Voldemort's wand was raised again in an instant.
"Crucio!" he yelled. The burning pain hit Hagrid like a bolt of lightning, starting at his deeply cut shoulder and spreading throughout the rest of his body. "Anything else to say?" Voldemort whispered when the worst of the curse was over. Hagrid said nothing and just continued to stare defiantly into the bright red eyes. "Yes, pain really does work wonders when it comes to silencing people, do you remember?" Hagrid finally pulled his eyes away and looked to the floor, ashamed. He knew what Voldemort was speaking of, and though he had spent his life keeping it a secret from everyone he loved he knew it was always there, like a thorn in his side, the truth that that had taught him not to trust people so easily anymore. "Yes, you do remember, don't you?" Voldemort raised his wand to his temple and withdrew a thin, web-like silvery stream, before flicking the end of his wand. The line flew into the air, fluttering down gently in the darkness of the shack. Again Voldemort waved his wand, and the line shined a brilliant gold for a second, before spreading out to create a shimmering picture, suspended in mid-air.
Two boys sat side by side in a musty dungeon, throwing each other mischievous glances and laughing into the backs of their hands. The room was empty of anyone else, but the door was thrown wide and voices could be heard coming from the corridor. The smaller of the boys, and much smaller he was, had a very handsome face and jet black hair. His cheeks were a little pale, but they was illuminated with a naughty smile that smacked of a young prankster who had been caught short. The other boy was much, much larger than his companion, and he sported a mane of shaggy black hair that looked as though it had been cut back with garden shears. The stool on which he sat bowed beneath his weight, and one would have thought him much older than the other boy. The truth was that they were both just eleven, fresh into Hogwarts and already making names for themselves. A tall wizard with a slightly expanded waistline shuffled through into the room holding a cane. He shut the door firmly behind him and turned to the boys.
"I assume you both know why you are here?" the older wizard asked. The two boys exchanged nervous glances but said nothing. "You are here," he continued, bringing the cane sharply down on to the desk in front of him, "because of your inexcusable behaviour in my class this morning!"
"Professor Armstrong, honestly, we had nothing to do with that salamander, we swear!" the shorter boy said at once, though it was clear to anyone watching that he was lying through his teeth.
"Oh please Riddle! I was not born yesterday! I know you two slipped that damn lizard the Draught of Enlightenment! A gift from Professor Slughorn I don't doubt. You'd think he would have more sense about him as a head of house, as the head of your house nonetheless! I mean really, the audacity that man has to call himself a teacher… but I digress. I want to assure you both that what you did was neither funny nor clever!"
"But sir-"Riddle began, but Professor Armstrong brought his cane down sharply on the boy's knuckles, causing him to wince in pain and silencing him at once. Had Hagrid been brave enough to speak, he was sure he would have begged to differ as well. He thought it was extremely humorous to see Professor Armstrong getting all of his Transfiguration errors corrected in perfect English by his pet Fire Lizard, and he was certain it was a stroke of genius of Tom's part.
"You haven't even made it through your first term here yet!" Professor Armstrong continued, "and already you are facing expulsion! Well, do you have anything to say for yourselves?" They swallowed thickly, and Hagrid didn't need to be any sort of Legimens to know what Tom was thinking. Hogwarts had been Tom's escape from the Muggle orphanage he had despised all his life, and the idea that his bravado and rule-breaking ways might send him straight back there terrified him. Hagrid wiped his hand across his sweating brow. He did not wish to be expelled either, his father had been so proud when he had been accepted. He felt certain that Hagrid would not be allowed in because of his parentage, and the day that letter had come had been the happiest day of Hagrid's life. But Hogwarts meant more to Tom than it ever would to Hagrid. Tom had the chance to be brilliant, whereas Hagrid showed very little talent in anything except for caring for magical creatures. Tom was Hagrid's best friend, and for him he would take the fall.
"Please Professor," he began bravely. "It weren' Tom who gave tha' lizard the potion. It were me." Professor Armstrong rounded on Hagrid.
"Really Hagrid? You did this? By yourself?" Hagrid was not shocked to hear the disbelief in Professor Armstrong's voice, but he was offended nonetheless.
"Yeh," Hagrid growled. "All by meself." Professor Armstrong straightened up, clasping his cane to his side.
"Very well. Riddle, you may leave." Tom slid off of his stool and flashed Hagrid a grateful smile, quickly exiting the dungeon before Professor Armstrong could change his mind. "Now, Hagrid…"
The shimmering picture melted away, and Voldemort turned to face Hagrid once more. "You saved me that night Rubeus, you allowed me to continue my education and to learn more about my glorious destiny. For that, I thank you." Hagrid's insides boiled with rage. This was a scene he had gone over many times in his mind. If he had not shouldered the blame, if he had not taken the fall, then maybe Riddle would have been thrown out of Hogwarts and that would have been it. Hagrid had always felt responsible for Voldemort's climb to power on some level, and now that Voldemort was actually thanking him for it, he knew he had been right all along.
"I should have let yeh burn," Hagrid said fiercely, his dark eyes narrowed and full of hatred.
"Well, I suppose yes, you should have, you seem to be so hell bent on not accepting my power. You could have been very useful to me Rubeus, very useful indeed." He held his wand to his temple again. "But I also blame you Hagrid, for holding me back." Hagrid threw Voldemort a questioning look as again a shimmering picture appeared before the two as Harry still lay motionless in the corner.
Tom Riddle sat by himself in the corner of the Slytherin common room, desperately trying to blend into the background and not be noticed. On his lap sat an open copy of The Standard Book of Spells – Grade 1, and his quill was scratching roughly against his parchment as he tried to complete his first ever Charms homework assignment. He turned the page and found to his dismay that the book skipped from page ninety-four to page ninety-seven. He threw the book to the floor in disgust, once again feeling the burning shame of his poor status. The book clunked heavily on the stone, and the attention of a third year boy was caught.
"Problem with your cast- offs Riddle?" he sneered at the raven haired boy. Tom's face flushed and he looked away, shaking his head slightly. "You filthy Slytherin traitor," the boy snarled, looking at Tom as though he were nothing more than some dirt on his shoe. "You do not belong in this noble house, you half-blood peasant!" Tom's eyes fixed the boy with a cold stare. Slowly, very slowly, a wound opened up on the boy's cheek. He clearly did not feel it, but a girl close by him screamed in terror as the wound slit its way right down the boy's face, gushing blood down his robes. He leapt to his feet, throwing Riddle a terrified look before fleeing the common room at high speed. It was not long before the rest of the students had rounded on Tom and they were advancing upon him, but then a loud crash turned their heads to a giant of a figure who lay as a crumpled heap on the floor. A girl began to laugh hysterically.
"Get up Hagrid, you great oaf!" she wailed, tears streaming from her eyes. Grinning sheepishly, Hagrid pushed himself to his feet and straightened his robes. "Another one who doesn't belong," the girl continued in a sing-song voice. "I think you two could be the best of friends!" She jabbed her thumb at Riddle, and Hagrid looked over. He was saddened to see the poor boy huddled in a chair looking frightened and exceptionally pale. He offered him a supportive smile, and for a brief moment Tom envied him. He was so good at ignoring everyone else's snide comments, nothing seemed to faze him like it did Riddle. Hagrid strode over to Tom, in full view of everyone, and clapped his mighty hand on his shoulder.
"Too ruddy right we will be!" he said bravely. The class collapsed into hysterics, and Hagrid leaned over to whisper into Riddle's ear. "Don' worry abou' them Tom, they've all got their heads on backwards. I'm goin' to go up ter bed, g'night mate." Hagrid sloped up the stairs, muttering something that sounded distinctly like "Don' know how we ever ended up in this bleedin' house." Tom smiled at his retreating back as the rabble died down and he was left alone once more. He reached into his school bag and extracted a small, leather bound book he had bought on Vauxhall Road. The view of the picture changed, so that it followed along behind Riddle's quill as he wrote a new entry in his diary.
'I'd like it if Hagrid and I could become friends. When he is around, he distracts me from these voices in my head, the ones in the orphanage that made me lead those children into that cave. I know this makes me sound crazy, and maybe I am, but these voices are always there. Every time I listen to what they have to say, I always end up doing something terrible, and I don't want to be evil, I really don't. It's so easy though, I'm not quite sure I understand. But Hagrid is right in a way, we really shouldn't be in this house. Neither of us are pure-blood wizards, like everyone else. Maybe the Sorting Hat just sensed the giant blood in Hagrid and looked no further, I know they don't have the best reputation, but I don't know what it sees in me. I think I shall go to bed now, I would like to talk to Hagrid some more.'
The picture faded from sight once more, and Voldemort pointed his wand squarely in Hagrid's chest. "Do you see? How much sooner I would have accepted the greatness that ran through my veins had I not believed in your so-called friendship?" In a blaze of anger he cried "Crucio!" again, and Hagrid was forced to the floor, squirming in pain. "I could have had Hogwarts in the palm of my hand if it weren't for you, and your distractions! Thank God I managed to get rid of you in our third year, though it pained me greatly to give you credit for my own noble work."
"I weren' the one tha' kept Hogwarts from yeh," Hagrid said, breathing heavily. "It were Dumbledore. You were always afraid o' him, always." Voldemort let out a hollow laugh.
"Yes, well, isn't it just delightful that the old fool is dead now then?" Hagrid could see Harry stirring out of the corner of his eyes. Voldemort walked over to the boy and pointed his wand at his back.
"You coward!" Hagrid snarled.
"Please Hagrid, there is no such thing as cowardice when it comes to life and death. There is only power, and those too foolish to take it." He waved his wand slightly. "Enervate," he muttered. Harry rolled over on the floor, his eyes open once again, slightly dazed as he took a moment to remember where he was. Upon his realisation, Harry pushed himself to a sitting position, face to face with Voldemort once again. His eyes looked everywhere for his wand, and it was only then that he noticed Hagrid.
"Don't you dare hurt him," Harry said through clenched teeth, knowing it was pointless.
"Don't be stupid, Potter," Voldemort replied lightly. "Rubeus and I were simply reliving the old days, and the good times we had. Tell me Potter, did he ever tell you how he used to be best friends with the man who murdered your parents?" Harry's jaw dropped.
"You're lying," he finally managed.
"Oh I can assure you I am not. Why don't you tell him yourself Rubeus?" Hagrid could not meet Harry's eyes in the dim moonlight that was cast over the Shrieking Shack, and Harry felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. It couldn't be true, it just couldn't. Why would Hagrid befriend someone like Voldemort, Even before Voldemort had attended Hogwarts he had shown signs of his true nature. Hagrid could not be so blind, surely? "You see, your giant oaf of a friend here has always been a little… slow-witted, shall we say? He couldn't see the darkness in me when other people all around him were running from it! He even thought we shared a common ground! The pathetic fool, and it is for his mistakes now that you both shall die."
Hagrid wasted absolutely no time. Getting to his feet he ran at Voldemort, pushing him to the ground and knocking his wand form his grasp. "RUN!" he yelled at Harry, and though Harry did not wish to leave Hagrid behind he knew that there was very little he could do without his wand. It would not take Voldemort very long to recover, so Harry picked up his feet and fled the Shrieking Shack, not stopping for anything, a fire burning in his chest and his eyes flooding with tears. Whether he would ever see Hagrid again after the events of this night he did not know, but his mind was shadowed in doubt. Faster he ran, his legs aching like crazy, but he did not stop until he fell onto the soft earth by the Whomping Willow. His breath burned as he forced it from his lungs, and he had a sharp stabbing pain in his side. From somewhere up ahead he thought he could hear footsteps, but he did not have the strength to move.
"Harry!" he heard a familiar voice cry. He looked up and saw the friendly form of Hermione Granger running towards him, a tall lanky boy by her side who could be none other than Ron. He collapsed onto the grass, still panting heavily and wincing in pain. Hermione fell to her knees at his side, closely followed by Ron on his other.
"Hagrid," he panted. "He has Hagrid."
"Ssh, Harry," Hermione said soothingly, placing her hand gently on his forehead. Harry weakly batted it away with his arms.
"No! Didn't you hear me? He has Hagrid!" Ron's face was as white as a sheet in the moonlight, and he looked to the Whomping Willow, at the entrance from which Harry had just emerged.
"Harry mate," Ron said gently, trying not to say what Harry already knew was true.Harry had wasted no time in forgiving Hagrid for the shortcomings of his youth. Everyone made mistakes, that was something Harry had always believed, and if Hagrid's last act of redemption was to save Harry from the evil man he had once called friend, then that would at least set everything right. Tonight Harry would hide from Voldemort, wandless and wounded and without any hope. Tomorrow he would return to the Shrieking Shack. He would go back for the body.
In the distance, Fang let a lamenting howl out into the night.