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Behind Emerald Eyes
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Chapter 35 –
The Lion and the Snake
"Sweet Merlin!" Fred Weasley said in disgust. "That thing reproduced?" Had the situation been different, Harry would have laughed. But there was no humour in the Dark Lord's flashing eyes as he stared at Harry with pure, frozen malice.
"You killed the world's greatest wizard, Harry," he said softly, almost in a whisper.
The Dementors had retreated, but Harry was still getting over the shock of finding out this man in front of him was the son of the one and only Lord Voldemort. He shook his head, trying desperately to dispel haunting images of Voldemort and a human-being ... together ... in bed ... snake eyes, thin scaly body...
He dry retched and could not help a shiver as it raced across his body. So ... sickening...
"He wa-wasn't the greatest wizard," Harry finally choked out. "Dumbledore was."
The mutant spawn of Voldemort smiled and Harry wondered how he couldn't see the resemblance to Tom Riddle earlier. "But I hear how your voice quakes with fear, Harry."
Harry let his jaw drop. "I was shaking in disgust!" he blurted out. "Because you just had to go and mention Voldemort reproducing! You've got us all scared and sickened now!"
George let out a nervous snicker.
The Dark Lord did not even flinch when he released a dazzling white spell from his hand. It streaked towards George, and he did not even have time to widen his eyes in shock as it struck him in the centre of his chest. He was propelled backwards, hitting the staircase with a sickening crunch. Ginny screamed. Hermione's hand went to her mouth. And Fred thrust his wand forward, a deadly fire burning in his eyes.
"Diffindo!" Fred shouted, shooting the yellow cutting spell out of the tip of his wand. Harry stood in shocked silence when the Dark Lord merely flicked his hand, sending the spell ricocheting towards upwards. It didn't even leave a mark in the elegantly painted ceiling.
"Don't be stupid, Weasley," he said darkly. "You are no match for me. Nor was your equally stupid brother." Harry glanced at George, who was sprawled uncomfortably over the stairs. He still hadn't moved. Fred glared at the Dark Lord, a thin sheen of sweat glistening along his brow. Harry could tell he was struggling with the urge to either seek revenge on the monster who attacked his brother and going to see how badly George was hurt.
It seemed compassion won over vengeance, as Fred, with one last glare at the smiling son of Voldemort, discarded his battle stance and retreated to the stairs. Harry stepped in front of the Dark Lord's vision of them, so he would be in the way if any curses would be sent their way.
A disappointed look appeared on the Dark Lord's face. "Aww … spoil all the fun, Harry."
Harry kept his wand forward, his heart thumping painfully in his chest, and his mind moving at a mile a minute. "That's what I do best," he said plainly, trying a figure out a way to get out of here alive - with Ginny by his side and no friends left behind. He was beginning to think it would be impossible, with Death Eaters covering all the exits and his beloved Ginny in the clutches of the one man who could take her from him.
"Let Ginny go," he said, knowing it would do nothing but waste more time. The Dark Lord chuckled, clapping his hands together and turning to look at bellatrix.
"Oh, maybe we should?" he said. "I wouldn't want THE Harry Potter to come after me! I am just so afraid!" Bellatrix Lestrange was laughing outright now, as well as most of the other Death Eaters. Harry remained silent, using the time to think of a plan, to either escape, or take down the evil spawn of Voldemort. Either was fine with him. As long as Ginny, and the rest of his friends, remained safe. He glanced at Fred and George out of the corner of his eye, feeling his heartstrings tighten at the still immobile form of George. Fred's face was chalk white as he kept trying to wake his brother.
Please be alright, he thought desperately, you have to be alright.
Silent tears were streaming down Ginny's face, as she looked at her brother then at Harry. She was trembling, and seeing her standing there, bound by chains and only covered by dirty, torn clothes - Harry wanted to kill everyone who had ever harmed her. His eyes moved to her bloated abdomen, seen through the gashes in her shirt. The milky skin that covered his child - his son - was bruised with dirt and small scratches. He looked back at Ginny's face, where the tears had mingled with the tendrils of hair that fell across her eyes. She was staring at him, with so much fear and desperation in her eyes, Harry felt as though he would collapse with despair.
Her lips moved soundlessly, mouthing the words, 'I'm sorry'. With a heavy, breaking heart, Harry knew he had to do something - anything - to stop her pain.
Turning back to the Dark Lord, who had finally stopped laughing, he took a determined step forward. The wands of the Death Eaters followed his every move, as did the cold eyes of Tom Riddle, projected by his son.
"Who are you?' Harry stated, amazed that his voice sounded so strong. The Dark Lord looked at him, the strange, sinister smile still at place on his lips.
"What do you mean, Harry?" he said curiously. "I told you who I was. I am the son of the world's most powerful wizard, Lord Volde-"
"-yeah, I know that part," Harry said irritably. "But who are you?" At the confused look on the Dark Lord's face, Harry added, "what do you want from me? What took you so long to rise? Who the bloody hell do you think you are!"
The silence was thick and impenetrable, filled with the sounds of his friends' heavy breathing behind him, his own heart and the rattling breath of the Dementors lining the walls. The Dark Lord stared at him, the smile on his face sliding away as a harsh look replaced it.
"I have always been here," he said after a moment's pause, in which Harry thought he would not even answer. "But, how about we talk somewhere a little more 'private'?" he said, and Harry looked around at all the Death Eater's, Dementors and Order Members, and he knew he would rather stay here then go somewhere - alone - with the Dark Lord. But this might be the only chance he would get at taking him down. And he would take it.
He nodded briskly, hearing rather than seeing, Hermione tense behind him. "I'll be fine," he said under his breath. "Get ready." No one else heard their exchange, but one glance at the faces of his friends, they knew what would happen.
"How about we go into my Drawing Room, it's only across the hall. Then we can chat in quiet and discuss some rather important business," the Dark Lord said with a grin. "Bella, please take care of things out here. If one of them misbehave, please don't go light on punishment. But do keep them all alive - I may need some answer-influencing later on."
"But master, what about you?" she said, the eyes of the Black's resting on Harry for a moment. "I know Potter, and do not trust him."
"I will be fine, Bellatrix, for I know Harry as well. He won't hurt me if it will mean hurting his dear Ginny. If I do not return in, say thirty minutes time, feel free to start killing off his friends. But leave Ginny to me, I feel we have formed a bond in the time we have spent together. Have we not, dear Ginny?" he said, approaching her slowly. Harry tightened his hand around his wand.
"Don't you dare touch her," he hissed. But Ginny shook her head fiercely.
"Go kill yourself, you son of a bitch!" she shouted. The Dark Lord merely smiled.
"I see your temper has returned with your boyfriend. Very well," he said, "when I return, we shall resume this charming conversation." The Dark Lord kept walking across the room, twirling his wand in his hand as he went. Maybe I could curse his back? he thought. He wouldn't know what hit him!
"I think you're a bit more noble than that, Harry," the Dark Lord called suddenly. "I don't think you would be coward enough to hex a wizard whilst his back is turned. Come along, we need to talk." Harry, swearing, looked at Ginny.
"Please don't go!" she whispered, stretching a hand towards his own. Harry reached for it, but before he could touch it, Ginny was propelled backwards, the chain tightening on her ankle.
"Don't even think about it, Potter," Bellatrix said with a broad, psychotic grin. "She's off-bounds. Now go, don't leave my master waiting or -" she stroked Ginny's shoulder - "something may just happen to your dear Weasel."
"If you hurt her, it will be the last thing you ever do!" he said, thrusting his wand upwards, towards her neck.
"What? Like this!" Bellatrix snapped out a hand, slamming it against Ginny's cheek, splitting her already bloody lips. Unbridled rage welled inside him and red blotted his vision.
"DIFFINDO!" he shouted and he felt his hand vibrate with the power of it as it shot from his wand. But he was no longer standing in the Entrance Hall but in a much smaller room. His spell cut across the room, barely missing a figure sitting in a chair by the wall. It shattered the glass as it flew through the window, streaking as a yellow light into the cloak of night.
"What the -?" he began, but was cut off by the closing of a door. He spun around to become face to face with the cold eyes of Tom Riddle. "Ahh!" he jumped back in alarm.
"I couldn't let you stay out there and kill each other," he said simply, "I need the both of you alive so my plans can work out the way I want them to." Harry gaped at him.
"How did you -?"
"-miraculously transport you into the Drawing Room?" Harry nodded distractedly and the Dark Lord laughed. "I think you're underestimating my power, Harry," he said. Harry gripped his wand tighter, getting over the fact that he was just transported, without Disapparating, Flooing or Portkeying, by another person without his permission. He had been underestimating the extent of the Dark lord's power, but at least he was now prepared.
"Why did you bring me here?" Harry said, finally taking a look around the room. It was a fairly large Drawing Room, with a shiny wooden desk with a heavy looking domed paper weight sitting on the side, high backed leather chair (which looked quite comfortable) and a large window behind the desk with deep cerulean drapes. The glass was now back in place, so it was easy to see out at the landscape with the sky a purple-washed-black. Then, his eyes trailed to the wall, where a man was tied, by chains, to a hard wooden chair.
The man lifted his head, looking up at him through a curtain of oily hair, to pierce into his very mind.
"Snape!" he said in disbelief. "I thought-"
"You thought he was still playing good-little spy?' the Dark lord said with a smile. "No, I figured Severus out the moment he reappeared before me when I called the Death Eaters. My father, bless his talented heart, was a little too trusting when it came to his servants. Me? I know a traitor when I see one."
"I knew he was still on you're side," the Dark Lord continued. "So I played it to my advantage. I gave him the information I wanted you to know, so I could draw you closer. I knew dear Severus was relaying information back to the Order and I also had suspicions about Draco as well. I wasn't sure about him, unfortunately, as I knew his father and trusted Lucius, as did my father. But, I should have known that all those that come into contact with the Great Harry Potter, come over with the sudden urge to do 'good' and join the 'light-side'. Even Dumbledore - the great fool - did not have that power, no matter how hard he wished for it. Why do you think, Harry, Dumbledore kept you around so long? Taking you to Order Meetings, and to the Minister, using you as his little 'tool' to influence the minds of others and get them to join his side. He was the greatest manipulator of all, Harry, and here you thought he was the world's most powerful wizard."
The dark Lord laughed, throwing his head back the way Voldemort used to do, so his features grew sharper and much more like those of Tom Riddle's. Harry glanced at Snape, who was watching him with a blank face. The old Professor looked haggard, with rings beneath his eyes and hollowed cheeks. His hair was much more oily than it had previously been and the robes hung off jutting bones. He looked weak and almost as though he had given up. The dark spark once present in his endless onyx eyes was missing, so they looked dull and lifeless. The chains wrapped around him were done so loosely, but the Potion's Master looked too weak to escape from their grasp.
A space deep inside Harry began to throb as he looked at his old Hogwarts Teacher, so noncommittal and defeated. For some reason, he expected more from Severus Snape, but it looked as though the many years he spent leading a double life, haunted and imprisoned by the memory of Voldemort and the still raw wounds of the many wars he had survived through.
Harry suspected the strange feeling spreading through him was pity.
"So, Harry, take a seat," the Dark Lord said, motioning to a plush emerald green armchair which had appeared on the other side of the desk. Harry eyed it suspiciously.
"I'd rather stand," he replied, clutching his wand tightly. "Why'd you bring me in here?"
"I thought you wanted to talk?"
"No, I wanted you to give me answers!" Harry said angrily. "Either you talk or I kill you!"
The Dark Lord laughed again, flicking his wand so Harry was forced down into the chair. He tried to get back up but he couldn't. "You have your mother's temper."
"Don't you dare talk about my mother!" he hissed.
"And you're still tender around the subject of your parents unfortunate deaths," the Dark Lord said with a grin. "Oh, did I say unfortunate? I meant fortunate."
"I'll kill you -!"
"Yes, yes, I heard that already. But time's a wasting and you want answers. So I will give them." Harry struggled against the invisible chains binding him, though found no weakness in their design. The Dark Lord had set his wand down on top of the desk in a mocking gesture, wearing the same small smile as he gazed out the window over Harry's head. "I suppose the first thing I should start with is my birth-"
"Is there somewhere in your sick, deluded mind, that makes you think I want to hear your life-story?" Harry growled, clutching his wand tightly in his fist. If he just managed to tilt the tip up, he would be able to fire a spell over the top of the table. But the way he was held in the chair made it practically impossible for him to move his wrist. All he managed to do was make a cramp build up.
The Dark Lord placed his cold eyes upon him. "Yes, actually, there is. Now, if you would stop interrupting, I might be able to get this over and done with before my dear Death Eaters lose patience with your little friends," he said with a feral grin that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up. "Now, back to the story…"
"I was born on July the thirtieth at four minutes past midnight. I hadn't been alive an hour before I killed my first person of many that would pass in my lifetime. Of course, I hadn't known that at the time," the Dark Lord said with a nostalgic glitter appearing in his eyes. Harry stared at him in both horror and confusion. Finding the look on his face, the Dark Lord continued. "My mother was weak, and died soon after birth. I didn't need her. I didn't need anyone."
If Harry had doubted this man's sanity before, it was nothing to the disgust he felt now. And as the story continued, he wanted nothing more than to end his misery. Not because he was stuck in the same room with the son of the monster that killed his parents, but because he was stuck in a room with Voldemort's offspring and actually intrigued by the tale he was telling.
It made him want to throw up. But he couldn't help being drawn in by the words that carried through the room.
"I came into my powers very early, maybe when I was three or four. I discovered I could levitate books from the shelves, and make them float into my hands. I could turn the legs of the chairs into snakes, and converse with them. And, my most prized gift that I found, was the power of pain. I would find small creatures in the manor - mainly rats and insects - and use my powers to torture them, and finally kill them. The thrill I felt watching their bodies shrivel and exhaust all remains of life was unlike anything I had felt before - or unlike anything I have ever felt to this day. Taking the life of another living creature is a power above all else."
Triggered by the Dark Lord's words, an image of the lifeless body of the Death Eater he had killed flashed across Harry's mind. He had not meant to kill him. He was only protecting Ron. But bile had risen in his throat and his stomach was turning uncomfortably.
The Dark Lord watched him with cold, twinkling eyes. "As I got older, I adapted to the nature of my home. There were mysterious visitors in the night, all wearing black and partaking in strange meetings with my father. On more than one occasion, as I hid in the curtains watching and listening, I witnessed some of them dying by the wand of my father. I used to look forward to the meetings, not because of the knowledge I would gain, but because of the death I would see. As I watched, I knew that was what I wanted to do when I got older. Be like my father. He was the most powerful person I had ever seen … and he was mine.
"Although he wasn't the most caring man, he taught me many things in the short time that we were together. Things that many Death Eaters dreamt of learning, but never could. Then, a day after my tenth birthday, he disappeared. My father - Lord Voldemort - vanished. The Death Eaters ravaged through our home, searching for things unknown to me. I didn't know what had been going on - I wasn't scared, merely confused. Almost a week passed, with me awaiting the return of my father. I was left alone in the manor, waiting for someone who would not return. But then, one day, a man arrived and took me away.
"A year later, I was a student at Durmstrang under the name of Thomas Riddick."
Harry had no idea why the Dark Lord was telling him this. All he wanted to do was get out of her with his friends and Ginny. Perhaps even put an end to this Dark Lord's reign. "I don't want to know this," Harry said through clenched teeth.
"I know, but I felt the need to share with you the pain you caused me," he said with a dark glint in his eyes. "Because it was you who took my father from me. It was you who sent a ten-year-old boy across the country - orphaned and alone - with no idea where he was or what had happened to his father. You did that, Harry."
"I was only one when that happened!" Harry shouted, struggling against the invisible ties binding him. "And don't forget, it was your father who took my parents from me! And then tried to kill me! A baby! So don't try to make me guilty for something I couldn't control!"
"But I believe you could control it, Harry," he said, twirling a wand in his long, pale fingers. "in your young, one-year-old mind, you held more power than both your parents combined, as well as Lord Voldemort. I grew up in Russia, learning the Dark Arts, hearing stories of the 'Great Lord Voldemort' who had been destroyed by an infant not even out of diapers. I knew then, I had to kill the one who took my father from me. He would have to pay - slowly, painfully, miserably. I would make that child, when he was older, watch as I killed his friends and family, and any other that was close to his heart. That was my dream, Harry, even when my father was resurrected, I clutched to the single dream of taking the life of the one who destroyed mine."
"But what happened when you had Voldemort back?" Harry said angrily. "I didn't see you at his return! Why weren't you there? I thought you would've spent every day of your life searching for your vanquished father - if you had loved him so much! Then, later, why didn't I see you at the Ministry, or in my visions? Wouldn't there have been news if the Great Tom Riddle had had a son?"
The Dark Lord watched him from over interlocked fingers, his face emotionless apart from the dark flashing in his cold eyes. "I did search for him, more than you would ever know. But it was hard looking for someone thought to be dead. There was no one I could ask, no one I could go to for information. I knew not the names of my father's loyal Death Eaters, or had no recollection of what they looked like - just images of white masks, dark robes, and green light."
At these words, Harry heard a familiar screaming cut through his mind, following by all-engulfing green light. He closed his eyes briefly, ridding the horrid images from his mind and trying to calm the sudden pounding of his heart. When he opened his eyes, it was to see the humoured grey ones of the Dark Lord staring back at him.
"We have a lot in common, Harry," he said softly, and Harry was startled to find that he was talking in parceltongue. "More than you would ever know. We were both deserted at a young age by our parents - you a lot earlier than me - with us both having no choice in the matter. We both grew up with people who did not love or want us. And we both shared a common bond that stemmed from our youth - revenge on the person who took our parents from us."
"My parents loved me," Harry said coldly.
"And you think my father did not love me?" the Dark Lord said in an equally cold voice.
"Voldemort was not capable of love or even emotion," Harry answered. "He only had hate and pain, and the power to cause death and destruction. He was a monster."
"You're wrong, Harry, my father loved me, in his own way."
Harry shook his head, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No, he didn't. Voldemort loved no person. He could not and would never. Why do you think he didn't name you?" Harry knew now the answers he had been looking for. The Dark Lord had wanted revenge on his father's death - but also because of the rejection he felt. Voldemort couldn't love another person, so the fact that he had had a son was confusing and just wrong. Why would Lord Voldemort - a man who killed people and destroyed families for a living - want a family of his own?
The answer - to carry on his work.
Voldemort had wanted a male heir, who would be there to continue killing and ravaging when Voldemort was finally destroyed. Voldemort did not love his son, and didn't even name him because of that, so he could grow up as cold and angry as he himself had grown up. If Voldemort had showed any kindness to his son - even if he had been capable - his son would not have been as angry and so totally psychotic as he himself had been growing up.
So, the Dark Lord was not as angry at Harry for killing his father, but because his father had spent his entire life - even when he had returned - trying to kill Harry. Voldemort had paid more attention to Harry - his eventual downfall - than to his own son and heir.
The Dark Lord stared at him with so much malice and pure hatred in his eyes, Harry believed it would be enough to send many crashing to their knees. But because Harry was tied up, and because he knew the painful history of the broken - and completely demented - man before him … he felt no fear.
Only power.
"You're father didn't even love you enough to name you," Harry continued. "He was so intent on killing and taking over the world, that he completely ignored the son he had created to carry on his bloodline. You were even hated by your own father, and you're blaming it on me - the one he spent his entire life fixated on."
Before Harry could react, he was biting down on his tongue to stop from screaming as the Cruciatus Curse ravaged through his body. The pain was so intense and so totally overwhelming, he lost sense of who, where and what he was. He didn't know anything except for the endless pain coursing over his body. He wanted to die. just kill me, he thought desperately through his breaking mind, kill me and end my agony.
But in another part of his mind, a part hidden from the reaches of the Cruciatus Curse, a voice spoke up. Death is the easy way out, it said in an unfamiliar voice. think of those you would leave behind. What would happen to them?
Then, as the pain became a distant ache, he thought of Ginny and Ron, and the rest of the Weasley's. he thought of Hermione and Tonks; Lupin and the other Order Members. They were all in danger and would more than likely be killed if he didn't do something. And he couldn't bare to lose them.
"No-no!" he choked out as the pain immediately stopped. His entire body was throbbing. His bones felt splintered. His head felt as though it had been split in a thousand pieces. He couldn't string a full thought together in his mind. His skin was on fire. His insides felt like that had been brutally squeezed and bruised. But he still looked up, through the pain shooting across his head and down his spine. He blurrily stared at the image he knew was the Dark Lord's and held his gaze. "N-no."
There was heavy silence, in which Harry held his gaze until it had cleared, then he straightened his body, clutching his wand tighter. The Dark Lord stared at him, a strange emotion flickering over his face. "No?" he repeated. "Who says you have a choice in the matter?"
Harry, still in agony from the Cruciatus Curse, hardened his gaze. "I do," he said with a stronger voice. "it's my choice and I say no more."
With his eyes completely on Harry, the Dark Lord opened his mouth to answer. But he never got the chance. There was a black blur and a second later, the Dark Lord was hunched over in his seat, a steady line of blood seeping down his face from his hairline.
Severus Snape, with paper-weight in hand, loomed over him. He looked at Harry, his cheeks slightly tinged with red from the sudden exertion. "Potter," he simply said.
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Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.
Eh… Umm…. meekly waves "Hey guys!"
ducks a multitude of keyboards
Okay, look, I'm so incredibly sorry for the abysmal time it took for this to come out. I had it written a while ago, as well as most of a chapter for Shattered Memories, but then got a computer formatted. Stupid me, having already copied everything to a CD, forgot I had written more on these stories. Even stupider me, forgot to re-add them to the CD.
Whoops … completely mental me, loses at least ten thousand words of work.
So, here I am, having written most of this today. I know its boring, but I needed to explain the Dark Lord's history and his motives. I was meant to have more in this chapter, but didn't want to keep you waiting any longer, and decided would save the rest for the next chapter, which will probably be the second last one if everything goes to plan (which it probably won't).
I won't be surprised if no one is still reading this, I won't blame you if I get a million flames. But, school and home-life has been hectic, and I needed a break from everything for a while. I think everyone should give writing a break for a while (obviously, not as long as me) and see the good it does. I had exams a month ago and did really well in most of them because I hadn't been absorbed in stories and writing. But not that I'm in my last year of school (scary as hell!) I'm gonna try and get my stories done before the new year.
So, the next chapter shouldn't be that far away. Well, I hope not anyway. Thanks to those that reviewed last chapter, you're the greatest! And thanks to those that have stuck through my annoying update times. LOL.
I LOVE YOU ALL!
So, Later Days (hopefully soon) …
DW