Title: What Would You Do?
Author: Allanasha Ke Kiri
Beta: N/A
Warnings:
Rating: T
Summary: "What would you do, Harry Potter, if you realized your life was a lie?" Whatever he'd expected to encounter that night, that wasn't it.
What Would You Do?
Legilimens
"What would you do, Harry Potter, if you realized that your life was a lie?"
Harry blinked; he couldn't help but blink. Of all the things he had expected, from a sneering speech to just an AK, that hadn't been it. He blinked again, frowning as he stared at the man that had caused him so much trouble.
"What?" he asked finally, unable to say, or do, anything else.
He knew he should just finish it, kill the man before he came to his senses. Kill him before he could realize just who he was talking to. But he couldn't. There was something about the man, as he stared up at the not quite full moon, that was off, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it. The man still stood straight and tall. Harry couldn't see even the hint of a slouch from the man's profile.
Perhaps, it was the light from the moon that made him look softer. Or maybe, it was how his face was turned up to gaze at it. Then again, could it be his voice? The normally powerful, cold, hiss, sounded remarkably human just now; full of emotion that Harry had never thought he'd ever hear from the man before him: Pain.
"What do we fight for?" Voldemort whispered, still gazing at the moon.
Harry blinked again, his frown deepening, as he took a quick glance around. Perhaps it was a trap? Why else would the Dark Lord be staring at the moon and talking as if they did it every weekend? Where was the man everyone feared? The man had been present a mere 10 hours before, when he told the castle that they had 24 hours to surrender before he attacked.
He saw nobody but the two of them. All was silent.
"Do you not know what you fight for, Harry Potter?"
Harry jumped slightly, turning his attention back to Voldemort, the man still wasn't looking at him. "I'm fighting to stop you." His voice was confident.
Voldemort nodded, then fell silent. Harry couldn't help but tense, expecting the trap to spring. His grasp tightened on his wand.
"If I asked you, would you kill me?"
Harry was sure that his mouth dropped open, his grasp loosening from his wand. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Had he heard right?
"Kill you?" he asked, voice incredulous.
Voldemort sighed, finally turning his face from the moon as he turned to fully face him. Harry felt his throat close up at the anguish shown in the man's eyes.
"I did not mean for this." He lifted a hand and motioned around them, to the castle and back to the Forbidden Forest, where his own followers waited. "To happen. I find that, so close the end, but, having come so far, I cannot return."
Harry was silent, allowing the man to speak, hoping that this wasn't a trap, because, if it was, he was doomed. Just like his second year, he found himself drawn into the man's words, almost hypnotised by them.
"Will you do it for me?" he asked. "Will you be the one to show me the mercy no one else has deemed me worthy of?"
It would be so easy, right now, to just raise his wand and say those two words. Say them, and the world would be rid of the darkest Dark Lord ever known, or something like that (Harry had never really payed much attention to those specifics), but he'd never been able to pass up a mystery.
"I don't understand. Why?"
Voldemort closed his eyes and bowed his head, seeming to hunch in on himself, and Harry could do nothing but gape. For a moment, Harry thought the man wasn't going to answer, but, eventually, his whispered words reached Harry.
"If I show you, will you kill me?"
". . . Yes." It was what he had came out to do, after all, and if the man wasn't even going to fight it, it would be all the easier.
It was then that Voldemort pulled out his wand, but Harry's was already pointed at him.
Voldemort blinked at him before giving a small, strangely ironic smile. "I don't suppose you're a leglimens?"
"I've cast it once or twice."
He tilted his head slightly, the strangely innocent gesture completely at odds with the snake-like dark lord. His eyes locked on Harry's green ones, Voldemort released his wand, letting it fall to the ground at his feet.
"My shields are down, Harry Potter."
Harry's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. Surely he didn't mean . . .? But, looking at him, Harry could see that he was. Mentally shrugging, he raised his wand.
"Legilimens."
And he was in.
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
He was five, and running. He could feel the fear coursing through his veins. He didn't dare look back; they'd catch up if he did, and they wouldn't be gentle. Through his fear, he could feel relief, the door was just ahead. If he could just get through it, he would be safe. There were trees outside.
A moment later, and he was out. Then, he was falling. A cry escaped his lips as he tumbled down the stairs. Pain flared through his left arm, he'd broken something, but that was nothing new. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled back to his feet hoping he'd still be able to get away. A hand grabbed his arm, the one he'd hurt, and jerked back. He cried out, both in surprise and pain; he hadn't realised they were so close.
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to get away from us, Riddle."
"Please," he whimpered, trying to make himself small, and hating himself for it.
Laughter, they were enjoying it. He felt his anger well up, but with it came tears. He was helpless, there was nothing he could do. He was weak, powerless. They laughed at his tears.
Pain.
His gaze flickered upward, toward the ceiling. He was as amazed by it as the others, but he hid it. His mask was perfect. He wouldn't show anything that could be used against him. Emotions were a weakness he could not afford. Beside him was a blond girl, his age, chattering on about something. He'd met her on the train, and she had insisted on walking with him.
"It's amazing," she breathed, wonder filling her words.
He raised a silent eyebrow. She would be hurt, if she kept exposing herself so, but he wouldn't be the one to do it. He found her oddly . . . endearing. So he just nodded silently and let her ramble on.
She didn't stop until a hat began to sing, then she giggled silently. Inara Kelton was her name, and she was a Hufflepuff. He was a Slytherin.
He sat silently, glaring down at the floor before the desk. He hurt, but then he always hurt after a meeting.
"Do not be discouraged, Tom," a kind voice said. "We are making progress. Every session brings you closer."
He said nothing, but he could feel his glare intensify. He carefully controlled his breathing, refusing to let Dumbledore know how angry he was. He hated how weak he was. He would get stronger. It was the only way to stop what was happening.
"Tom?"
He kept his head bowed. Just breath. he thought. In. Out. In. Out. Don't let him get to you.
"Come now, Tom. You're being childish again," his tone was patranising.
His head snapped up, his glare came with it. Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head sadly.
"I had hoped you would not be so stubborn, Tom. I've told you that this is the only way. You were so eager in the beginning. What changed? Hmm?"
He continued to glare, barely restraining his hate at the man before him.
Dumbledore sighed again, his eyes locked on his. "I believe we should extend tonight session, Tom. You seem to be regressing."
Pain.
They flew by, images, emotions, memories, each of them showing him more than he'd ever wanted to know. Through them all, he felt the anger, the hate, the hopelessness. They overwhelmed him, making him forget who he was.
Then, just as suddenly as he had been brought in, he was back, gasping. He blinked at the ground, much closer than it had been when he'd started. His scar was flaring worse than it had before. Getting ahold of his breathing, he glanced up, to see Voldemort in much the same position. Finally, the older man raised his eyes. Red met green. Both of them were silent. As they stared they spoke without words.
Harry's eyes told of his sympathy, never pity. Pity was never welcome, he knew well from his own experiences. He expressed his hate at what had happened to the other man.
Voldemort accepted it, and he begged.
Finally, Harry nodded. He'd said he would. Shakily, he rose to his feet. Voldemort rose with him, his wand left on the ground.
Harry stared at him a moment longer, their eyes meeting. He nodded once and cast his spell. A quick death, something Voldemort didn't deserve, but it was something Tom did. A quick spell, a green light, and his body fell. Voldemort was no more.
Hmm . . . Not sure I'm completely happy with this. Well, I can always come back and change it later, I suppose. After all, the poll isn't done just yet. What do you think? feedback keeps my muse interested in the story. It has a tendency to go off to different things if he doesn't get his ego stroked often enough. (rolls eyes.) I got this idea from a challenge on AFF .net.
Challenger: Jester08
Pairing: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Summary: "What would you do, Harry Potter, if you realized that your life was a lie?"
Challenge: On the eve of the final battle, an emotionally broken Lord Voldemort comes to Harry, begging for death. Before giving him his final wish, Harry recieves all of Voldemort's memories. Spurred by sympathy for his enemy, and hatred for Dumbledore, Harry goes back in time, to where it all began, determined to right what went wrong.
Details: Rated: M (obviously changed to be made appropriate for FF .net
Major Angst/Romance
Romance can't start right away. It must happen after they get to know eachother, and Tom gets a little older.
Time Travel
More than 15 chapters
Harry will be 16 and in his sixth year of school
Tom will be 11 and in his first year of school
Dumbledore MUST be the bad guy
Tom will be the submissive on
Tom will be abused by his classmates and Dumbledore. (For Dumbledore will be in secret) making him suspicious of everyone around him.
Everyone's abuse, but mainly Dumbledore's, will be what makes him into the Dark Lord.
You can include your own characters, too, if you wish.
That's that challenge, word for word even. My muse just went OMG and snatched it up. I don't know where it's going to go with it, or what it's going to do, or anything. Suggestions are welcome, and they can sometimes give my muse an idea, even if it wasn't what was intended.
It's happened before, at any rate. You'd be surprised at the things my muse will come up with from just the simplest stuff.
Anyway (again), tell me what you think! And don't forget to vote on which of the four you prefer.
Thanks for voting!
Allanasha Ke Kiri