What Do We Fight For?
A/N: So I am currently suffering from writers block… no surprise, knew I'd get there someday. So because I probably won't be uploading for a while I decided to post what I had managed to come up with despite how short it might be:/ sorry about that. Also sorry for the long wait and I hope to write more soon.
Truly thank you so much for all the support that's been given. Almost 100 reviews and 600 followers… I mean wow.
I have also started another story as my mind has been completely blank for this one. I will be focusing on this one as much as I can though, the other was more to try and spark some sort of inspiration, and it technically did because I came up with this (undeniably short) chapter and spent just under two hours writing and editing.
So I hope you enjoy! If not… that sucks, thanks for reading anyway.
Chapter 7:
Bright beams of sun shone through the window, lighting up the otherwise dull room so that, if one looked closely enough, you could see the specks of dust dancing around in the air, following no pattern, no order… they simply were.
Tom Riddle sat on the edge of his bed, eyes staring at the book before him. It had been easy enough to find, a slab of wood was hardy enough to slow him down. The issue however was that the brat had stolen it in the first place. What he would want with a book he couldn't even hope to understand didn't make sense. Everything about that boy didn't make sense but Tom was beginning to realise that he was thinking in the context of a muggle child. Someone ordinary and bleak and useless.
Harry Potter… Everything seemed to fit so much more into the puzzle that the brat was made up of if he was not a muggle. Things started to make sense. And the name Potter… he could only assume he was somehow related to the pureblood family but how he had ended up here remained to be seen.
That might help him understand how the child had been able to do what he had but it still didn't change the fact that there was something off about the boy. Something decidedly not normal that had nothing to do with the fact that he was magical. He needed to confront him, Tom decided, talk to him. Understand because if there was one thing that Tom hated it was not being about to wrap his head around things, including people and Harry Potter… Well the brat was just plain odd.
Minutes turned into hours, the knock on his door came and went but Harry didn't move. Instead he merely lay there, mind strangely and yet blissfully blank. Finally he turned his head to the side to gaze out at the ruin his room was currently in. Staring at it for the second time he realised that it didn't look as bad as he had originally thought and figured that Riddle had probably found the book almost instantly. The rest was just out of bitterness or anger or maybe simply the desire to show Harry what he was capable of.
Intimidation was the last thing Harry was feeling at the current moment in time however. He was already acutely aware of just how powerful and dangerous the young Dark Lord could be and just how much he loved holding a grudge.
Swinging his legs out of bed and gingerly stepping on the splintered floor Harry changed into some new, feeble clothes, his black hair even messier than usual.
The day was bright, cheerful almost but that was lost on Harry. His feet took him outside, the sun beating down on him and all the other children as they played in the warmth- knowing that it would soon be replaced with cold and damp nights and dismal rainy days.
Harry sat down at the edge of the garden, right in front of the iron fence that caged them all in like they were some kind of feral animals- and maybe that's just what they were. Because weren't humans the most dangerous of them all? He wandered what made them like that. Was it their minds, their free will? The ability to create new ideas from merely whispers of inspiration? Or maybe it was simply the constant grab for power, the desire to dominate and control and the never ending greed for more?
Whatever it was, it wasn't his concern but it never hurt to try and understand, to make some sense of the world around.
Harry lay on his back, gazing up at the clear sky with only the faintest mists of swirling clouds that would soon be evaporated by the sun. Maybe part of him thought that if he stared for long enough, concentrated for enough time an answer would come to him. That the shape of a cloud or the call of a bird would spark some kind of epiphany as to why he was stuck like this. Why it was even possible. But there was nothing.
A shadow overcame his features and a face blocked his view. A child of around eight stood there, a kind if cautious smile on his lips.
"Would you like to join us?" His voice was timid but honest, someone Harry probably would have liked had he still cared enough, had he still wanted friends.
"No." He replied softly, closing his eyes and missing the look of disappointment but acceptance over his denial. Had he seen it, maybe he might have had the brief thought that perhaps kindness wasn't such a bad thing pass through his head… but as it was the boy just became another face in a long list that he would never remember.
Barely two minutes had passed before yet another shadow disturbed him and his eyes flashed open in slight annoyance. Riddles face stared impassively down at him and he uttered just one word before turning around and striding off. "Come."
Harry rolled his eyes at the short demand and at the fact that Riddle clearly expected him to follow. Rising to his feet and trailing after Riddle more out of curiosity and boredom than anything else, he followed him inside. Harry didn't even question where they were going until he realised he had been led straight to Riddle's room.
He paused for a breadth of a second before following inside. After all, curiosity might have killed the cat but he had infinite lives.
A/N: I know… really short chapter. Hopefully the next one will be longer though there's no telling when that will be. Thanks for reading.
