Riddle Manor - Nine Months Earlier
Riddle stood apart from Potter, watching with lingering fury as the boy was hauled roughly from the floor. Weeks, months of preparation had crumbled in a single moment and they hadn't even made it out of the country-
"I seem to recall the agreement was alive and unharmed?" Lucius Malfoy said lightly.
Riddle moved his hand sharply, dismissing the Death Eaters as he stooped down low to press his cool fingers against Potter's forehead.
The boy melted into him, eyes panicked, fingers reaching out, clinging desperately onto his robes.
"It's fine," Riddle said. "Potter's stable enough."
It wasn't fine.
Rage welled within him, tearing across his meagre bond to Potter. It had been foolish to leave the Chamber of Secrets so soon.
He should have waited, stayed hidden until no one suspected that Potter was still alive, so that not even Lord Voldemort would have believed it. He had been too impatient, too eager to seek out Nagini and it had cost him everything.
"How long has Black been out of Azkaban?" Riddle asked quietly.
"Long enough," Lucius answered. "Fortunately, Black's interference didn't cause any further repercussions. It would have been disastrous if he managed to get his hands on the boy."
"How fortunate," Riddle said. He drew Potter's wand, causing some of the other Death Eaters to shift back slightly.
Lucius Malfoy eyed him with a cool look.
"You helped Potter escape my home?"
Riddle smirked.
"I hardly have to answer to you."
"No," Lucius Malfoy conceded, dipping his head. "Not to me."
Riddle knew the Dark Lord approached, could sense an unfiltered presence that was completely intrusive. His eyes flicked to the dozen masked people in the room and his grip tightened around Potter's wrist. Perhaps he should take the chance and flee-
It was too late for that. Potter cried out, pressed a hand to his burning scar.
Quirrell stood on the threheld, his turban removed to reveal Lord Voldemort's hideous, twisted face.
"You dare betray me?" a terrible, high voice hissed in parseltounge, red eyes surveying Potter's deteriorating state. "If you have harmed a peice of my soul-"
Riddle stood, mouth curling into a smirk as he lowered his own head.
"I merely petrified him," Riddle hissed, before switching back to English. "Tom is perfectly safe, isn't that right, Harry?"
Potter didn't respond. The boy was barely coherent and he fumbled uselessly with Riddle's diary.
"Get out."
The command came from Quirrell's mouth, but it was clearly not his own.
"Don't take him too far," Riddle called as a Death Eater stooped down to pick up the boy. Not that it mattered. There were no dæmons in the manor to trigger the boys transformation. That would not happen until his Lord's resurrection.
"I-" Potter started, head lulling forwards. It was fascinating to see Potter so susceptible at the possibility of their separation, so dependent on Riddle's presence.
He would have to find a way to keep the boy if possible.
Voldemort however, stole his full attention, parseltongue reverberating from his hideous face.
"Did you really expect that you would succeed?" he seethed. "That you could attack my soul, endanger your brother without my explicit permission. That you would dare try to find and steal Nagini from me?"
Shivers pierced Riddle's skin. There was no point denying it.
"Yes, I expected to succeed," he whispered. "I will still find a way, you cannot keep us apart."
They stood alone in the room. Quirrell took a step backwards, closing the space between them.
"You do not deserve her, have never deserved her," Voldemort hissed, distored face more fearsome than before.
Any composure Riddle had vanished in an instant, the smirk slipping from his face to be replaced with something more foul.
"Fifty years," he spat. "I spent fifty years alone. Do not tell me what I deserve."
"I should put you back in that diary," Voldemort hissed. "Ensure that you remain in the written form, it is the only thing you are worthy of."
A dread like no other consumed him. Riddle opened his mouth once, closed it, before he opened it again, his voice a strangled whisper.
"I will find her. Even if it takes me years, I will not stop," he took a shaky breath, Potter's wand trembling in his hand. "You cannot hide her forever, and then I will take her for myself and she will realise that you offer nothing."
Voldemort sneered, face stretching in horrible contortions.
"Is that why you tried to flee with the boy? You were afraid she would reject you?"
Riddle flushed despite himself.
"She would never, we belong together-"
"You have never existed to her, are worthless-" Voldemort hissed.
Riddle would have slammed his hands over his head, anything to shut out the possible truth. Instead he jerked his head, repeating the one thing he'd told himself from the start.
"I am you. A replica so perfect, that she would never know the difference. If you only gave her the choice-"
He would give everything to have her in his arms again. Nagini would surely know how he felt, that she too would only wish for the same outcome.
Riddle would rather face any other fate.
"And if she refuses you?" Voldemort sneered. "Will you drop this silly obsession of yours? Will you accept that Nagini belongs only to me."
Riddle looked away, the words washing cruelly over him. He would fight for Nagini, find a way to come between Voldemort and his soul. It was possible. Potter had achieved it and would show him how-
"Yes, I will accept it," Riddle lied, voice hard. "But Nagini has to be the one to tell me. Otherwise I will not believe it."
Riddle could feel the connection, deep and terrifying as Lord Voldemort's grotesque face observed him. There was no way to miss the pure hatred, the malcontent which rippled from Voldemort, and for a moment, Riddle was terrified, was sure that his lie had been detected-
There was a hiss, something indescribable that Riddle didn't recognise, and then Quirrell raised his wand. Light flashed, a loud crack resounded, and something alive hit the floor with a heavy thud.
The hairs on the back of Riddle's neck pricked, his pupils dilating.
All reason escaped him.
It just wasn't that simple, not after everything he had suffered. To know that Lord Voldemort had kept his soul close to him all this time. There was no denying the very solid and very real dæmon before him.
A serpent, roughly twelve feet long, was heaped on the floor. The body was huge, coiled over itself in a tight protective form. The scales were green and they glistened like nothing Riddle could have imagined.
"Nagini-"
The parseltongue caressed his lips, as if he hadn't truly muttered her name for fifty years.
Nagini writhed, bringing herself round to face him. There was a still moment where deep yellow eyes locked onto his own and forked tongue flickered.
Riddle fell to his knees as the serpent reared, venomous fangs bared and jaws wide. That did not deter him, he reached out trembling fingers, wishing to touch her beautiful scales, scared that she would vanish as soon as he did so.
Nagini lunged.
Riddle threw himself backwards, long white fangs barely missed his fingers. The serpent hissed, powerful body launching forwards, ready to puncture deep into exposed flesh, powerful jaw ready to crush anything she latched hold of-
Quirrell's wand slashed downwards. A bubble enclosed around her, locking her inside a glowing cage. Nagini's muscles contacted as she slithered in rapid, contorting movements, furious at her sudden imprisonment.
Riddle's mouth parted, but he could not speak. A panic had taken his broken soul as he realised the true horror of what he had witnessed. Out of every scenario Riddle had imagined, dreamed their reunion would be, this hadn't even entered in the realm of possibilities.
She did not know him. There was no hint or flicker of any recognition.
Riddle scrambled up, his heart aching.
"W-What is wrong with her?"
Voldemort surveyed Nagini with a horrible indifference. She coiled within her sphere, ignoring even the Dark Lord's attention.
"When the killing curse rebounded a piece of my soul shattered and latched itself onto Potter," Voldemort hissed. "As a consequence, there was not enough of my soul left for Nagini to remain complete. She became simple, regressing to nothing more than a wild animal, a pet."
Riddle's head pounded. He couldn't hear properly. Nagini's hisses were distant, the walls of the room were closing in. His fingers were numb, cold, as if there was no life within him.
Nagini had been pushed too far.
"How many of us did you make?"
Even his own voice sounded far away, echoing, unable to connect with his thoughts.
Voldemort did not answer, but there was a dangerous flash of magic between them, an intensity like no other.
Riddle hated how his voice wavered. He was weak, powerless without her by his side.
"F-Fix her."
Quirrell turned his head as Voldemort watched impassively, cruel eyes unmoving.
"I cannot."
"What do you mean, you cannot?" Riddle shrieked, hysteria erupting as sparks few from the wand. "It has to be possible-"
Magic was immense, unlimited. There was so much that they did not understand, it would be foolish to give in so easily. Lord Voldemort had surely not exhausted all options-
A cold clarity consumed him.
"It's not that you cannot," Riddle screeched, jabbing his wand at Voldemort. "You choose not to. You've become so detached from your dæmon, that you want to leave her in this state-"
Nagini coiled, hissing and spitting loudly in her glowing orb, unaware of the true fury that surrounded her.
"You are not thinking clearly," Voldemort hissed, "You know the price, the only way to piece her back together-"
Riddle clenched his fists, head pounding. He did know the cost, and it was too high, even if Lord Voldemort had been capable. He would not settle for anything less than their shared, joint existence.
Riddle took a pained breath, despising his own decision.
He would have to settle for Potter. For the interim, at least, until he could rule out all other possibilities, until he truly knew for certain that Nagini could not be saved, that she was truly and indefinitely lost.
Voldemort however, seemed to know what he was thinking.
"The boy will be destroyed."
Everything was planned, had been for months, would have progressed already had Riddle not interfered.
Riddle snapped. Even Potter's pitiful, desperate attempt at a connection was worth fighting for. He would not be left alone.
"Potter is mine now-"
Voldemort laughed, his voice high and unnatural.
"You are a fool. You should have bought the boy straight to me, as promised. Before you foolishly became attached."
Riddle flushed, anger at the sheer injustice.
"What did you expect? I have been faithful and loyal all this time, unlike my brother who deserves nothing and yet has everything."
Voldemort sneered, but a triumphant look consumed his warped face.
"Not for much longer. My rebirth will be tonight. You have delayed this too long."
Potter would become less than human, a wraithlike creature, so foul that his only purpose would be to glory in decay and despair. To seek out dæmons and devour, to fulfil his own insatiable hunger to return his own soul-
Return his own soul.
Riddle exhaled, the cusp of possibility alarming and dizzying.
Dementors were capable of terrifying feats, and yet they alone could manipulate souls, could rip one from a person with a single rattling breath, but what if-
What if they could give one back?
Voldemort had dared push the boundaries of souls, experimented beyond any other person, why should Riddle strive for anything less when he was just as capable. He understood the intricacies of souls, of dæmons, was not afraid to push them to their limits.
Riddle mind whirled, thoughts spiralling, calculating every possible outcome as his own turmoil simmered.
A full dementor would be useless, limited in their rationale and with only one true purpose. But if the transformation was interrupted and Potter's mind salvaged before any lasting damage could be inflicted-
There was no reason not to try. The boys fate was sealed, he would be used to restore the Dark Lords body regardless, what did it matter if Riddle interfered with the left overs.
Nagini could be saved, if only Riddle took a chance.
Of course, there was the more obvious option, and it was tantalisingly tempting. Riddle shivered from the thought of it, his own imagination chaotic and eager to satisfy his immediate desires.
Riddle could still keep the boy for himself.
Steal him away, keep him alive and unharmed, hidden from the world. Restoring Nagini wasn't by any stretch guaranteed, there was so much that could go wrong, but with Potter, a future together would be achievable, all he had to do was reach out and take him-
Nagini coiled, forked tongue hissing in warning, daring him to approach. Riddle itched to hold her, to feel her smooth muscles run across his body. Their time apart had been brutal, the turmoil of their separation unimaginable.
It would never happen again.
Riddle's composure slipped back into place as he stood and faced his lord. He bowed low, allowing his Occlumency to drop ever so slightly, so that his Lord knew without hesitation that he could be trusted, knew his pure intent was to complete the ritual and sacrifice the boy.
He would regret it if he didn't try.
Riddle Manor - Present day
They were alone in an old, rundown house. Thick layers of dust lay on the carpet and large wooden boards covered the windows, casting the room in shadow. A few remaining portraits hung crooked on the wall, the frames empty and burnt out, set against yellowish peeling wall paper. The grand room was eerily familiar, yet Tom had never been here before.
His chest heaved from immense pain, the remnants of Riddle's curse cut sharply through his shoulder as he breathed in and out.
Riddle's grip tightened on his upper arm, shoving him forwards, uncaring for the resistance in Tom's steps, or the simultaneous silent resignation.
There was nothing that could be done. Nothing that could erase the past hour, to let him do it all over again and for Tom to return to Harry with Lyra clutched safely in his arms. The finality of the outcome hurt.
Tremors shook his body and he tried to block it all out, to pretend that Harry would be happy, healthy with Lyra, that he didn't need him-
Tom knew he couldn't face the world without Harry.
They had been so close to all being united, but now Tom's fate was taking a very different path, one that was entirely out of his control.
None of the rooms had been restored to their former glory, and Riddle led him into a dimly lit corridor, passed several boarded up window where no light penetrated from the outside. It made it harder to breath, and Tom drew longer, heavier gasps of air, his rising panic barely remaining contained.
They were just approaching a grand staircase when Tom slammed his heels into the carpet, yanking his arm out of Riddle's grip.
Riddle responded, seising his collar, hauling him around to slam him hard against the wall, wand digging painfully into his neck.
Tom kicked out, but his chest heaved from the immense suffocating pressure.
"And here I thought you were coming quietly," Riddle smirked, cruel amusement flashing across his face.
"Shut up," Tom hissed.
A terrible hunger was rising within. A hollow emptiness, an ache so distantly familiar that even Riddle tilted his head, understood so perfectly the implications.
"Potter has his dæmon?"
Tom jerked his head, it was difficult to think, to speak. The onslaught of temptation was focused on Lyra, Tom had never been surer. He opened his mouth, ready to beg, to throw himself at Riddle's mercy in order to find a way back, to stop Harry before it was too late.
It didn't make any sense. They shouldn't be together, not yet-
A strange calmness was rippling across their bond, disrupting all previous terror. Tom didn't dare move. The outcome was too horrific-
Riddle watched, his eyes narrowed and for a brief moment Tom could have sworn there was a flash of concern.
"Lyra's unharmed?" he asked, his voice feigning indifference.
There was a silence, and it stretched between them as Tom tried to gauge the chaotic situation. Everything was so confusing, was hidden to him, but Tom nodded thickly.
"I think so."
Riddle stared, eyes flicking intently over Tom's trembling and distraught form. Without saying a word, Riddle's fingers wound back into his collar, all but hauling him towards the staircase.
Tom staggered as his vision swarmed to black, chest rising in sharp contractions. He struggled to hold back hot angry tears, brushing his other hand across his face before Riddle could see.
Lyra had transformed.
He was so in tune with every emotion, every flicker of Harry's want, the need to devour and it wasn't going away, couldn't be satisfied. Was Lyra truly lost-
"Move," Riddle hissed, patience waning. The little strength Tom had remaining he'd granted to Harry, any resolve that might make a difference. Harry couldn't fail, not now-
Tom needed to start worrying about himself.
At the top of the stairs, Riddle turned right. Tom could see down the landing where a door was ajar. A flickering light shone through the gap.
Riddle quickened his pace, pushing him forwards.
The room was largely empty.
A tall, imposing figure stood before a fire burning in the grate. Robes draped from the skeletal body, the face disfigured, skin stretching tight leaving only a couple of slits for nostrils. Long fingers curled around a wand as Lord Voldemort fixed unnatural red eyes upon him. Oppressive magic radiated, suffocating any connection to Harry.
Voldemort was just as terrifying as Harry's memories.
Tom ripped his shoulder from Riddle's grip.
"My Lord," Tom said, voice full of disdain as he dipped his head in a mocking bow.
There was a silence. Riddle came to stand beside Tom, his head lowering respectfully.
"Where is Potter and his dæmon?" the voice sent shivers down Tom's spine.
No longer reduced to less than nothing, Lord Voldemort had truly returned to a terrifying glory.
"My Lord," Riddle drew himself tall, chin raised as he shot a deliberately cool look towards Tom. "I would have succeeded if he had not interfered-"
Tom barely listened as Riddle explained. His own heart was racing, his connection to Harry was vitally important, and the weakened flickers which crossed their bond only hinted at despair.
Harry needed him, and Tom was not there by his side-
Every inch of his body screamed to flee, to find a way back before it was too late, but running now would be as useless as not moving at all.
Tom took a deep breath, trying to convey across their bond that he was okay, that everything would be okay-
Riddle had stopped talking and was looking at Tom with a rather nasty expression. Very unwillingly, Tom raised his head to find the most terrible gaze upon him.
For a moment neither of them spoke, the fire from the grate flickered across the Dark Lords distorted face.
"Why do you continue to resist?" Voldemort hissed softly. "Potter will not be harmed."
Tom didn't even deem this worthy of a response. Voldemort and Riddle had torn Harry apart, left him barely human and they still expected unquestioning cooperation.
Instead, Tom's expression hardened, his thoughts consumed by only one thing. The reason why the Dark Lord had decided to spare Harry's life after all this time. Riddle had hinted at the most terrifying answer, but Tom had to know for certain.
"Where is she?"
Riddle jerked slightly, his mouth opening to protest. Lord Voldemort however, raised his long, skeleton like fingers, wand flicking.
There was a flash, and a huge glowing orb materialised in front of them. Within, was a large, green snake, roughly twelve feet long and coiling, hissing and spitting at the shimmering cage. Intense, yellow eyes glowed unfocused as she protested at the sudden disturbance.
Tom found he couldn't move, enthralled by the serpent. She was achingly familiar, and Tom was surprised that his throat had a hard lump in it.
"Nagini," he whispered.
Lord Voldemort's dæmon.
Tom took a tentative step forwards as Riddle spoke, his voice unable to hide the raw, distraught emotion.
"She is reduced to a mere fraction of her true worth. She's no better than a simple, wild animal."
"How long has she been like this?" Tom asked quietly, but he already knew the answer.
"Since your creation," Voldemort answered.
Tom nodded, fingers reaching out despite himself. She coiled, fangs bared and ready to strike.
"You can't have more than one soul," Tom whispered.
Tom had been the last piece to be removed, the one that had finally pushed Lord Voldemort's soul too far. But he had always known that, knew that Nagini had crumbled at the expense of his and Riddle's existence, knew that Riddle had been chasing an unattainable dream.
"I don't know what or why you believe it, but Harry cannot save her," Tom said tightly. "It's impossible."
Riddle laughed, his voice mocking, eyes widening in an almost manic state.
"Potter can see, manipulate souls, he only need to learn how to master control. There is no reason to assume it's not possible."
Tom shut his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose to contain his anger. He could still hear Nagini spitting wildly, twisting and turning in her cage.
"Dementors devour," Tom bit out. "Why believe Harry is capable of anything more-"
"I thought you would be pleased," Riddle said coolly, crossing his arms and eyes narrowing. "It is purely because of Potter's state that he has been granted a reprieve, or would you rather his fate still be death?"
Tom glared at Riddle.
"Or I could have left Potter to deteriorate completely?" Riddle continued, head tilting. "But honestly, what was the point, when there was no reason not to take the risk, to see what is or isn't possible."
Tom ignored him, turning to observe the expressionless face of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord stared back, head twisting snake-like as his voice slipped into parseltounge, revealing Riddle's true intent.
"Nagini only needs a single piece of my soul to restore her senses."
Tom straightened, genuine open fear crossing his face. He took a step back despite himself.
"That's how you plan to restore her, by using me-" Tom whispered, terror absolute. "Harry would never-"
"That is still to be decided," Voldemort hissed.
Tom didn't dare breath.
Riddle smiled, and it wasn't very pleasant.
"You're not afraid of a little competition are you?"
Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing. If Harry learnt how to manipulate souls then there was a world of potions, curses and spells which could taint Harry's opinion against Tom. Voldemort only had to command it.
"It's not quite what you think," Riddle said, a little too sweetly. "Fortunately for you, Potter has some influence in the decision."
Tom stayed perfectly still, mind whirling. That had to be a lie, Voldemort would surely not leave such a decision to anyone else.
He faced Voldemort, hardly daring to push further.
"I'm surprised you would trust Harry with your soul at all?"
"Do not mistake my decision," Voldemort said coolly. "Potter will need to demonstrate unwavering loyalty to me before I consider letting him close to Nagini."
"I'm sure that won't be an issue," Riddle said, smirk widening as he inspected his wand idly. "The boy can be persuaded."
Tom cursed under his breath. The truth behind the statement was horrendous, it showed just how much Tom had thrown a thorn in Riddle's plans. Without Harry here, Riddle's influence would be minimal at best, would never hope to be as strong as their bond.
Riddle however, seemed to be thinking the same thing.
"I still have time," he said quietly. "Harry has always been receptive towards me, craves my presence, my touch-"
The fire in the grate roared to life, bursting with a violent crack as Tom's magic unleashed itself.
He took a step towards Riddle, ready to lunge, to try and hurt him in any way possible, even if he had to resort to muggle means.
A shimmer flashed before his eyes, a barrier slicing between them, the pressure pushing Tom back slightly from sheer power alone. He staggered slightly, never once taking his eyes from the wand that Riddle held so delicately in his palm.
Riddle lips curled and he closed the gap between them, only stopping at the edge of Voldemort's barrier. He leant forwards, so that Voldemort would not be able to hear.
"I will ruin him," he said softly.
Tom rounded on Voldemort, hatred flashing.
"How can you allow this?" Tom demanded, voice breaking as he jerked a finger towards Riddle. "What right does he have?"
Harry was no ones to claim but his.
Voldemort's head tilted in a weirdly reptilian way, his pupils dilating into slits, gaze piercing and unrelenting.
"To tamper with the soul is a dangerous enough feat," he hissed. "And to move one piece to Nagini without devouring it, I need Potter to act without any hesitation or doubt, and as the boy has attachments to both of you-"
Tom suppressed a shudder. There was something fundamentally wrong, why would Voldemort take the risk at all-
It didn't make sense.
Yet, there was one hard fact that could not be ignored.
Riddle was prepared to gamble everything, and that made him so very dangerous.
Tom circled around Nagini's shimmering orb, facing Voldemort.
"Harry is years off being capable of learning any of this," Tom said gesturing wildly at the serpent. "What if he never masters the ability to manipulate souls?"
Voldemort smiled, and it sent icy chills through Tom's spine.
"Then another use will be found for the boy," the Dark Lord hissed. "Else he will be discarded."
Tom tried not to swallow, to hold the last remnants of composure he had. If Harry never swore loyalty, if Riddle stayed true to his promise, if the task was even possible-
There was everything to play for, and so much that could go disastrously wrong.
"If Harry succeeds-" Tom pressed. "If he restores Nagini?"
A horrible lipless smile curled onto the Dark Lords face.
"Then he has everything to gain."
Tom shut his eyes. The stakes were so high, but the reward was immense. If he and Harry came out of this together, Riddle would be gone and their safety would be absolute.
There was still another option, but that was just as dangerous, risked Voldemort's endless fury-
Tom could not think of it, did not dare should Voldemort read his mind.
"My place is by Harry's side," Tom said stiffly. "He cannot do this task alone, let me go back to him, I will guarantee he will succeed-"
Voldemort looked more terrible, more vicious as he hissed.
"If I permit your return, you will bring the boy to me?"
Tom dipped his head slightly, eyes slightly averted.
"Of course."
"Liar," Riddle hissed, face contorting, but he fell silent immediately at the sharp look from Voldemort.
There were a few horrible drawn out seconds.
"It would not matter either way," Voldemort said finally. "The only reason I would permit your return would be to deliver Potter to me. Dumbledore would expect it."
"How convenient," Riddle said coolly.
Tom ignored him.
"I would find a way past Dumbledore."
"Then you underestimate him," Voldemort hissed.
"No," Riddle said, a nasty look twisting onto his face. "He doesn't. He's counting on it. He wants Dumbledore to succeed. If he had any intention of cooperating than Potter would already be in our possession."
Tom's face remained void of emotion, but he did not deny it.
The light from the fire flickered across Nagini's orb as she contorted her huge, glistening body. Riddle's gaze locked back onto her, and Tom couldn't help but feel a brutal satisfaction. Riddle, who was so close to his deepest desire, yet helpless to have her completely.
"Our next actions will need to be swift," Riddle said quietly. "Without Tom the Ministry will place Potter back in St Mungo's, we need to be ready to seize the boy-"
"Dumbledore will not leave Potter exposed," Voldemort said coolly. "He will already have taken precautions against losing the boy."
Desperate anger flashed across Riddle's face, and black sparks burst from his wand.
"Potter will come for Tom then. He won't stay idle now-"
Tom couldn't help but laugh at this.
"You think Dumbledore would not stop this too?"
"He has no reason to know that Potter was our target," Riddle snapped. "The protections around the boy will surely be relaxed, if they believe we have what we want-"
A thin smile crept onto Tom's face, and he took a step back towards Riddle.
"You seemed to have told Sirius Black an awful lot of what your true intentions are with Harry. Enough I would say for Dumbledore to put the pieces together and act accordingly."
Anger flashed across Riddle's face.
"Black would be dead if you had not prevented it."
Now that caught the Dark Lords attention, and his terrible gaze slipped between the two of them, before finally settling onto Tom.
"Black owes you his life?"
Tom nodded tightly, but it was Riddle who answered.
"Twice over. Pity he'll be handed back to the dementors. It won't matter what knowledge Black does or doesn't have. Dumbledore won't know that Potter was our true target. We just need to entice the boy-"
Tom's mouth twitched at this but he held his tongue. Riddle was desperate, was grasping at straws. Tom took a deep breath, and lowered his head slightly towards Voldemort.
"My Lord, you should leave Harry in Dumbledore's care. He is years away from being capable of what you need him for and you have servants who can report on his progress-"
"Leaving the boy would be foolish," Riddle snapped. "Dumbledore will have time to poison Potter's mind, tempt him to his cause. We need to remove him now."
Tom raised and eyebrow, mouth curling into a cruel smile.
"I thought you and Harry shared your souls," he said. "Do you understand him at all?"
Voldemort tilted his head at this, eyes narrowing.
"You're suggesting the boy is more susceptible to the dark?"
Tom locked his eyes onto Voldemort's own. Voldemort had to trust that Harry would be safe to leave alone for now. It was the only hope he had.
"Harry's a dark creature," Tom said mildly. "He will never trust or forgive Dumbledore for putting us in that guillotine."
Riddle laughed, his voice horribly high.
"He forgave you-"
Voldemort raised his wand. Riddle fell silent, his mouth snapping closed.
"Potter will be impossible to touch now, Dumbledore will see to that. No, now the boy had been reunited with his dæmon it will be a test to see if he gives manages with her temptations. If he fails this, then there is no point in even considering this further."
Tom let out the breath he had been holding. If Harry continued to prove himself, outside of his or Riddle's influence, there would be no reason for Voldemort to interfere, at least not straight away-
"Surely the sooner Potter is among us-" Riddle protested.
Voldemort hissed something in parseltongue. The finality of his decision was clear, was not to be argued with and Riddle fell silent, glaring at Tom.
It didn't last very long, for a wicked look crossed his handsome face.
"My Lord," Riddle said softly, "There is something you should see, something that will perhaps make your decisions in regards to the boys future easier."
Tom took a step back. There was only one memory that could condemn him. Riddle had omitted it earlier, if only to hold influence over Tom in future. Clearly, he had no such patience.
Tom's fate was sealed.
He could still feel the burning lingering rage as he had cast the killing curse at Riddle. Voldemort would never forgive such a blatant, open attack on his soul.
It latest only a few seconds, but there was nowhere for Tom to hide.
Voldemort broke eye contact with Riddle, pulling out of the memory. His face was twisted in pure uncensored fury, his wand raised high, striking down with no mercy.
"Crucio," he hissed.
Tom threw up his Occlumency, cutting off all ties to Harry just before the curse struck. He fell screaming, body breaking, writhing in unimaginable pain. His very bones were on fire, his head was surely splitting, his eyes rolling back in his head, white hot knifes driving into his flesh. He wanted it to end-
Then it was gone and Tom was lying on the floor, face pressed into the dust as his whole body shook, fuelled on the rage and grief that consumed him.
Voldemort would all but gift Harry to Riddle now.
"Let me go back to him-" Tom whispered, throat dry and raspy.
Voldemort did not answer, he raised his wand and hissed something unrecognisable.
Tom flinched. A sudden strange feeling clasp around his neck. A thin serpent coiled around it, weaving its muscles across his cold and clammy flesh. Tom grasped at it, but it sunk inwards, so that it could no longer be seen or felt.
"You will remain by my side until you can be dealt with," the Dark Lord hissed.
Tom glared at him. Just like a proper dæmon, tethered to Voldemort. Unable to separate by any distance. It was humiliating.
He should have held his tongue, not bait the Dark Lord further, but all rationale left him. Perhaps the sorting hat was right, maybe he did belong in Gryffindor after all. There was only one way this could end.
"You will never have Harry," Tom whispered, as Nagini hissed and coiled within her protective sphere. "I swear it."