Inception: Rise of the Heir
After the murder of Hepzibah Smith, Tom Riddle disappeared for ten long years. He sank deeper into the Dark Arts & pursued knowledge that others could only dream of, consorting with the darkest members of wizarding society. With his eyes set on North America, he has no idea that the magic he so desperately seeks will shape his life & his inevitable future for years to come. TomxOC
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing except for my o/c's and my own storyline.
Lyra awoke suddenly from her slumber in a cold sweat, the beads of perspiration flowing down her backside like a spring rain. She raised her hand slowly to wipe her forehead and felt a small bead escape her fingers, trickling gently down her chin and onto the pillow below her.
"What time is it?"
Laying there, disoriented and confused in the heated sheets of the bed she wondered how long she had slept and turned her head slowly towards the window, hoping to catch a glance of the sun's rays. She craned her neck towards the small aperture in the wall, but felt her heart drop in disappointment when there was no light to be found, only the black pitch of the night.
"I've wasted the whole day…" she thought as she tried once more to prop herself up in bed, wincing as she felt the pang of her stomach wounds rip through her once more. "I can't lay here anymore, I've got to brew that potion. The more time that I let pass my by, the less opportunity I'll have to prevent myself from losing control again. I won't allow this pain stop me, regardless of how terrible I feel."
Grabbing the sheets, she slowly pulled them back towards the wall, exposing the torn and bloody clothing that still hung limply from her body. Lyra wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight, but closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh, relieved to know that Tom had not seen the more intimate parts of her body.
"At least I still have SOME of my dignity." she thought to herself angrily as she silently checked her wounds from the night before, displeased by the vulnerable position she had been forced into. She had always prided herself on her talents and abilities and the fact that she had needed another's help, despite the situation, wounded her ego immensely.
"Reckless fool." Lyra scolded herself as she moved her legs slowly, one by one, until they were hanging off the side of the bed, her feet on the cold wooden floor. Waving her wand quickly, she waited as a clean sleeping dress flew into her hands and jabbed her wand once more towards her tattered and stained clothing, watching as the remains ripped themselves apart, falling into tatters upon the ground. Grimacing, she raised her hands slowly above her head, one arm at a time and pulled the clean garment over her head, sliding it over her carefully. She gripped the side of the mattress as she took in a sharp breathe, the aches from her belly knife-like and intense as her muscles tightened, sending bolts of pain throughout her body. Lifting herself off the bed, she put her arms out in front of her quickly, her balance not as sound as she would have liked, her body initially weaker than she had thought.
She heard Tom's voice echo through her mind as she grabbed the chair near her bed, steadying herself against it.
"You need rest."
She frowned and straightened her back slowly "I cannot rest. I must continue on, however poor the results of my endeavors are. I'll have plenty of opportunity to rest when I am dead and by that time none of this will matter anymore."
Her heart lurched in her chest and she brought a hand up to her collarbone, stroking it absentmindedly, Tom entering her mind once more. Anger flashed through her eyes as she thought about what he had said and dug her nails into her chest. "He changed the subject when I had asked him what else he saw when I had blacked out...I felt the tremors, I felt the hairs on my neck standing up, I know what it feels like before I lose myself..."
Feeling the sharp edges of her fingernails sink further into her skin, she stopped and instead rubbed her eyes in frustration. Glancing towards her nightstand, she stared at the full glass of replenishing potion that had been left there and grabbed it reluctantly, swallowing it in one tentative gulp. Lyra raised her hand to her mouth, feeling it start to rise back up her esophagus and swallowed once more, preventing it from reappearing across the floor before her, the unpleasant taste lingering on her tongue. The draught had been left on her nightstand for hours, it's texture cold and coagulated and she could feel it sliding miserably down her throat like a cold, rotten soup.
"He saw something...and he's lying, that's why he avoided my question. Next time I see him, I have to force the truth out of him. By whatever means necessary."
Looking towards her wooden cabinet filled with various stores and potion ingredients she made her way over, her feet softly padding against the frigid floor. She opened the large doors, and started to sift through some of the larger bottles and flasks, looking carefully at the labels and tags.
"But...for the first time in months you haven't woken up in a strange place, cleaning up the aftermath of the damage you've wrought...could he have had something to do with that?"
She bit her lip, her mind sinking deeper in thought and winced suddenly when she realized her teeth had drawn blood, the metallic taste dancing around her tongue.
"Damnit."
Dragging her thumb across her lip, she picked up another glass bottle and placed it down irritably, it's contents familiar, but not what she was looking for. Sucking in a soft breath of annoyance, she instead pulled her wand out, summoning what she had been so anxiously searching for. Within seconds, a small phial flew into her hands from the endless eternity of the cupboard and a smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.
"I knew I still had some of this still laying around." Lyra exclaimed gleefully as she dusted off the neatly written label that read 'Wiggenweld Potion', and popped the cork off the top. She took a quick sniff of the liquid, unsure as to when it had been brewed, and raised her eyebrow in skepticism as she brought it up to her lips, drinking deeply.
"As long as this hasn't lost its potency, this should help me heal faster...somewhat."
Her eyes glanced down towards the table next to her as they fell on the potion page she had been reading the night before.
She had completely forgotten about the book.
Her blood ran cold as she realized that the book had been left open the whole night, her page of interest exposed and laid out for Tom to see. There was no hiding it anymore, she had to find out what he had seen and how much of her condition she had inadvertently given away.
Tom rubbed his face as he awoke from bed, finally refreshed and well rested from the events of the night prior. There was no looming exhaustion that hid behind his bones and at once he felt his mind started to race, there was no time to waste laying about, relaxing in bed. Within seconds of his eyes fluttering open, he was on his feet, neatly making them bed behind him as he walked over to his wash basin, trying to make sense from all the thoughts that assaulted him at once. Distracted and instantly overwhelmed, he splashed his face with cool water as he ran his hands through his hair, pausing to look at his shoulder in the mirror.
His wounds had healed perfectly, his skin smooth and soft.
Absentmindedly, he grabbed the locket that still hung around his neck, stroking and twisting the chain around his fingers as he walked over to his suitcase, grabbing a clean shirt from inside. As he pulled the button up from his luggage, a gleam of gold caught his eye, the handle of Helga Hufflepuff's extravagant cup poking out from the plain unmarked sack that lay inside the case. He laid the shirt down on the table as he opened the small bag that contained his most prized possessions and smiled wickedly. There had been no choice but to take them with him, unable yet to decide as to where and whom, if any, he could entrust his horcruxes with. He noticed the small ring that lay in the bottom of the pouch and gently picked it up, greed filling his eyes as he placed it on his finger.
"My uncle's ring…" He stared at the jewelry once more, the devilish grin still tugging the corners of his mouth. "...it is an ugly little thing..."
Crudely made, but sentimental nonetheless.
He thought back fondly to how he had acquired the ring and how had turned it into his first horcrux. His heart skipped a beat as he relished the memory of how he had exacted revenge upon his father and his grandparents, killing them for what they had done to him, his mother and how he had laughed at their pitiful pleas for mercy, their fear. "Everyone has a purpose for something, even you father…"
Unwilling to raise suspicion, he hadn't worn it for some time, deciding that it didn't seem wise for a poor store clerk who owned so little to flaunt any sort jewelry openly. No, it was more prudent to hide it and avoid all conjecture that might arise from it's presence, the less attention he brought to himself, the better. But here, the circumstances were different, no one knew him or what humble beginnings he had come from, no one would even think twice to question why he wore such trinkets.
He smirked as he picked up the clean shirt from the table, sliding his arms into it carefully as he buttoned it up to the collar, watching the small black stone of his ring gleam eerily in the light. He sat down at the table as he reached once more into the bag, pulling out the second horcrux he had made, the most useful of them all, his diary.
Tom opened up the book lazily as he flipped through the empty pages with his thumb and forefinger, until he came to a certain page, picking up his quill. Dipping it lightly into the ink, he brought it down upon the page and scribbled eagerly, the tip of his thumb sliding across his lower lip.
SHOW ME
He stared at the page as words started to appear before him, his own ink bleeding into new words before his eyes as the book answered.
WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE?
Tapping his quill once more against the inkwell, he responded with one word.
EVERYTHING.
The diary answered him once more, slowly, the words scrawling across the parchment.
WHO ARE YOU?
Tom smirked as wrote his reply, his calligraphy deliberate and neat,
I AM LORD VOLDEMORT.
He watched as multitudes of entries, pages of his innermost thoughts and secrets revealed themselves to him, the ink suddenly visible. He had written in this diary years ago, before and after he had turned it into a horcrux, detailing the events of his experiences at Hogwarts, his most nefarious curses and spells he had created and his detailed instructions on how he had opened the Chamber of Secrets.
However remarkable its discovery had been, he had been forced to close it, the school being accosted with threats to close its doors forever and out of self preservation he had decided to enchant the text, wiping the book clean with a spell of his own design, hiding all evidence that could have led back to him if discovered. It had been a difficult spell to produce and although it proved to be one of his most brilliant, it had taken him a while to perfect so that he may still feed the book information if he so pleased.
He tapped his lips with his quill as his hand reached across the desk, shuffling through the folded and scattered bits of parchment he had written notes on during his time in the Athenaeum, until he came across the paper he had been looking for:
Physical Possession and Manifestation of a Physical Body through Chosen Objects
Although seemingly improbable in nature, the idea that one may preserve his or her likeness in an object with the sole intention of rebirth has existed for many years. Scholars have argued that although no one has successfully attempted this feat, the idea that one may rebuild their own likeness by parasitically draining their host through a cursed or dark object may in be achievable. One the host has adequately supplied the imprint of the objects owner with enough of their own strength and life, their likeness will come to fruition.
He tapped his finger on his desk as he read the passage. He had never thought to turn the book into something more than a horcrux or diary, but the idea of having a weapon this valuable was seductive, something that he could not pass by.
"To be able to take my memories and create a living and possible likeness preserved within these pages would be extraordinary. This could prove to be valuable in the future, should anything ever happen to my physical body. A clean slate, younger, but just as powerful would emerge, like a phoenix from the ashes."
He smiled, proud of his brilliance, but grimaced as his thoughts strayed to Lyra and what had transpired the night before, irritated with how he had behaved.
"I do not regret saving her life. I still have use for her and in the future Lyra could prove to be advantageous, should all things work out...but the extent of my actions and how I felt around her last night are troublesome...and infuriating."
Tom had always prided himself in his lack of interest in carnal pleasures and had never found any member of the opposite or same sex appealing, despite their attempts to seduce him. In this way he thought himself to be different than others, far above those who would waste their time on trying to impress or woo someone else, indulging in embarrassing behavior. Any time or effort not spent studying or on personal ambition was frivolous and life was far too precious to be spent so recklessly. He desired power above all else, he had already conquered death and anything other than that was utterly pointless.
Yet, still...he could not help but to wonder what was it about her that had made his insides feel as if they were on fire?
At first the feelings had sprung from his discomfort of another's skin upon his, the feeling awkward and unpleasantly intimate; he had had very few interactions as personal in his life and to him the idea was revolting and degrading. In the day and weeks following after, he had chalked his emotions up to an nagging obsession with finding out what she had been trying to hide, his every thought consumed with the idea that a knowledge that was forbidden to him.
It was exciting and challenging all at once.
But now that he knew her secret, what was the new reasoning?
"What could it possibly be?" he mused as he ran his hands through his hair. She did outwardly possess many of the qualities he himself admired, determination, power, skill, intelligence...ambition.
He reminisced back what he had witnessed in the woods and the emotions its provoked as he watched her from behind the rows of trees and brush. The whispers and thoughts that raced through his mind.
"Look away...look away and leave.
You've seen everything that you had come here for.
But he couldn't look away and he couldn't leave. His feet felt as if they had become a permanent part of the forest floor around him.
For some odd reason he found himself entranced by the scene before home.
...and in that moment, in that very particular moment, there was something about her that made her appear ethereal to him, her silhouette against the moon and the cerulean flames, speaking forbidden words that would marr her soul forever.
It had been intoxicating and something unintentional had awoken inside him from that moment on.
"Enough!" He suddenly pushed himself away from the table, irritated at where his mind had gone and had started to pace around the room angrily, cursing himself with every step he took.
In that moment he felt murderous, he wanted nothing more than to burst through the door to her quarters and utter the words that were forbidden to him in this country. To watch as the life drained from her face, her eyes turn as empty and hollow as a dolls. But he could not and he would not, such actions would be counterproductive to everything he desired.
He stared once more at the diary, his insides roiling from the pent up aggression he held within and sat back down, ripping a fresh piece of parchment from a pile he had placed beside him only moments earlier, writing furiously as he poured his anger into his endeavors.
Hours passed by quickly as Tom admired the diary before him, his wand pointed confidently towards it as he lifted it above his head and flicked it around quickly in the direction of the book, a red stream of magic pouring off the tip of his wand. He silently spoke the words he knew would turn his horcrux into an important tool for the future and watched as the small, leather text glowed, the dark magic settling into its pages and bindings.
"Once more you have accomplished the unthinkable..."
The spell had taken a while to perfect, the words unknown to him, but with a careful hand and an endless amount of skill, he had finally found the rudimentary words that needed to be strung together...and once that had been accomplished, the rest of it had been easy. He had figured out that in order for the curse to weaken whomever wrote in it's pages, he needed to weaken himself temporarily to give the book it's power.
Sacrifice...it's always what it came down to.
He winced as he dragged his wand across his hand, creating a small laceration on his palm, and watched hungrily as he squeezed his hand into a fist tightly, the blood dripping onto the pages of the book, disappearing quickly as the book took in what he had given.
It was now an extension of himself and not only did it house part of his soul, he had given it life.
Thank you once again for reading so far! Hope you all enjoyed this Chapter I know it wasn't the longest but there's going to be too much in the next chapter to include it all at once, so I needed a logical place to cut it off at. More to come within the following weeks. Please review and follow if you're enjoying it so far! Thank you as always for the support!