To Kill You With A Kiss
~Chapter 4~
"Imperio!" Tom Riddle pointed his wand at Harry's chest. A hush fell over the room.
Harry drew his breath sharply and stared, mesmerized, at the yew wand. The Imperius curse? I can resist it; I have fought it off before.
But what is this curious whisper in my heart? I can feel your magic coursing through my body. You have cursed me before, my Dark Lord, but it didn't feel like this. You want me to come closer. Closer... Something in me aches to do as you say. Something is stirring in my soul, some unbearable longing. I want to step closer. Resisting feels like dying... No! The wand you are pointing at me will kill my mother. It will kill my father. It will kill Cedric. No, my Dark Lord! I will not obey you. I will resist your curse even if it kills me.
He could see Riddle's quicksilver eyes widen now, as if in surprise. Was there a slight tremor in the hand that held the yew wand?
Harry could sense a quiet murmur running through the classroom, and a slight whisper from Abraxas: "Merlin, why isn't he moving-? How can he stand still like that?"
Harry could feel Riddle's magic tugging at him more strongly now, tearing at his heart. Come closer. Their eyes met, and Harry felt as if something sweet and dark was shredding his very being apart. But he stood immovable, holding Riddle's glance with his own until the grey eyes looked away. After a moment's hesitation, Tom Riddle lowered his wand.
How human he looks, with his tousled curls and his silver eyes and the slight flush on his cheeks... It would be easy to forget that he will one day be Voldemort.
Harry walked slowly back to his desk and sat down. He stared down at his books, trying to ignore the sudden whispers around him.
"You resisted the Imperius curse?" Cygnus' voice seemed to come from far away. "How is that possible?"
"That's what I would like to know, Mr. Black." Tom Riddle was close now, much too close. "This was meant to be a demonstration of the terrible power of this forbidden curse; it is so dangerous because it is impossible to resist. At this moment, a great many wizards and witches are on trial in various parts of Europe, accused of assisting the dark Grindelwald in murdering the innocent. But the accused all say that they are without guilt. They claim that they were bewitched; they were under the Imperius curse, which had robbed them of their free will. And I have no doubt that most of them will go free; for who can resist the irresistible Imperius curse? As you saw a few moments ago, I could make your classmates jump, dance, or sing with a flick of my wand, and they were powerless to resist me. So why didn't you move when I told you to, Elias Black?"
Harry glanced up. "Because I didn't want to, sir. I don't like obeying orders."
He saw the flicker of surprise in Tom Riddle's eyes and wondered if he was going to be angry. But the young teacher smiled. For a moment, he almost looked like a boy. "Spoken like a true Slytherin, Elias Black. I must admit that I am curious about you. Your mysterious guardian has taught you well. What other magic can you do?"
Harry merely shrugged. I can survive the killing curse, my Dark Lord, as you will one day find out.
Riddle's glance lingered on him for a moment. "You have a great deal of potential, Mr. Black. I would like to give you some private lessons. We can begin this evening. Please come to my office at eight o'clock."
Harry considered for a moment. Private lessons with Voldemort? What a strange thought. But his lessons might prove more useful to me than Dumbledore's. I seem to have some trouble with the killing curse, Professor. Perhaps you can help me...
"I would like that, sir. Thank you."
...
"Elias?" Abraxas caught up with him in the hallway. "That was... amazing. How did you do that? When you just stood there, Riddle grew so pale I thought he was going to faint." He grinned mischievously. "He's not used to people being able to resist him, you know. Hell, I don't even think he has to use the Imperius curse on some of the students; they'd jump and dance anyway if they thought it would please him."
Harry glanced at the blond Slytherin boy. "Would you?"
Abraxas flushed. "Me? Oh, I don't know. I used to be as enchanted with him as everyone else, but now I'm not sure anymore..." He broke off suddenly. Then his wicked grin was back. "Now, here comes the real test for you, Elias. You can resist the Imperius curse and all, but can you resist the fair Araminta? It's time for herbology, my friend, and for Professor Beery's dream of a perfect Christmas pantomime."
Harry groaned.
...
"Merlin's beard!" whispered Professor Beery. "Your scar! You have a handsome face, my boy, but your scar adds a sense of tragedy as well, of great suffering. This is the face of the noble knight, Sir Luckless, there can be no doubt about that! Oh, that final scene when they kiss will be marvelous!"
Harry wished desperately that Abraxas would stop laughing, and even more that Araminta would stop smiling.
"I'm not a good actor, sir. In fact, I'm absolutely terrible, downright awful."
"Nonsense, my boy! Enough of this false modesty!" The little professor beamed. "It's all settled then. The lovely Miss Araminta Meliflua will play the part of Amata, the unfortunate lady who has been deserted by her faithless lover, played by Abraxas Malfoy. Oh, excellent, Mr. Malfoy! That's precisely the look of heartless fickleness I was hoping for!"
Abraxas Malfoy grinned and tossed a rogue white-gold curl out of his eyes, looking very faithless indeed. You are enjoying this, aren't you Abraxas?
"And the charming Miss Rosier will play the downcast Altheda, burdened by her poverty. Ah, you air of affliction needs some more work, my dear. Never mind, it will come to you."
Harry looked doubtfully at Druella's imperious features. She looks about as downtrodden as the Queen of England.
"And Miss Moon will be the suffering Asha, ill from an ailment that no one can cure."
The curly-haired girl Harry had seen at the Gryffindor table nodded her head enthusiastically. "I've experimented with some vomiting charms, Professor. If you want to, I can make myself really sick on stage."
Professor Beery blinked. "Er... No, thank you, Miss Moon. That will not be necessary."
Eileen Prince, who was standing next to Harry, whispered: "She's not kidding, you know. Augusta is always making up the most disgusting charms to make herself ill so she can get out of class. I heard her offer to teach some of the third years for a fee. She actually failed her charms N.E.W.T.S. - I suppose she only excels at the truly repulsive ones."
Harry laughed. Fred and George would have adored you, Augusta Moon. But in their time you will probably be a dignified old lady already.
All of a sudden, something stirred in his mind. Augusta? No, it can't be... But another glance at her face confirmed that it was indeed true: This was Neville's future grandmother, the formidable Mrs. Augusta Longbottom. Harry shook his head in confusion.
"Now, those are the main parts," chirped Professor Beery, "but do not despair if you were not cast in one of the starring roles - there will be plenty of other parts as well. We need understudies, of course, in case one of the students playing the main parts were to fall ill. Miss Prince will understudy for Miss Meliflua, Mr. Lupin for Mr. Black, Mr. Sanguini for Mr. Malfoy, Miss Spore for Miss Rosier, and Miss Zeller for Miss Moon. Also, there will be a chorus, of course, and jugglers, and woodland animals. We might even bring in some house elves for some of the country dances. Professor Dumbledore has kindly agreed to Transfigure us a grassy hill with a bubbling fountain, Professor Kettleburn will provide the Giant Worm..."
Harry sighed. I already know that this pantomime will be a disaster. It's the precise nature of that disaster I'm worried about. If I'm lucky, it will just be the Giant Worm.
"And..." continued Professor Beery triumphantly, "I have the pleasure of announcing that there will also be an assistant drama coach who will be working with the actors who play the main roles. Professor Riddle has kindly agreed to help ensure the success of this pantomime." He chuckled. "It will be very helpful for someone of my age to have the assistance of a younger man when it comes to directing the romantic scene at the end. I am afraid I have long forgotten what little knowledge I once had in the area of romance."
A few people laughed. Harry stared at him in horror. Tom Riddle. Tom Riddle will teach me how to kiss Araminta. He sincerely hoped that Professor Kettleburn would hurry up with the Giant Worm. He was fairly certain that he would need it to swallow him up very soon.
...
After herbology, Harry was momentarily cornered in the hallway by an enraptured Professor Slughorn who was insistent that Harry come to his next soiree "for a few select students and faculty members".
"Tom Riddle speaks highly of you, Mr. Black," whispered Slughorn, with an air of suppressed excitement, "and I can think of no higher recommendation than that. Professor Riddle will be there tomorrow evening, of course - he is a very, very dear friend of mine. And I dare say you will see a few other familiar faces as well, my boy. I hear you are friendly with young Mr. Malfoy, who is also invited. Charming young man, from a very good family."
And yet, thought Harry, smiling to himself, one day in the future, Abraxas' grandson will try to win your favor by using his grandfather's name. And you will merely stare at him coldly. I wonder what Abraxas will do to disappoint you? I can't wait to find out.
Harry extracted himself from Slughorn as politely as he could and hurried to his next class; he was already a few minutes late.
"I am so sorry, Professor Dumbledore," he muttered, "but I encountered Professor Slughorn in the hallway, and he wished to talk to me..."
"Ah." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "That is only to be expected, I am afraid."
Transfiguration with Dumbledore was rather amusing; the students spent the afternoon transfiguring each other into common household objects. Harry succeeded in transfiguring Araminta into a golden cup with two sapphires on it, and he decided he liked her a great deal better that way. After a few failed attempts - one of them resulting in yellow canary - Abraxas was finally able to transfigure Harry into a golden snitch, and Harry fluttered happily around the classroom for a few minutes until the charm wore off. I wonder if there is a way to make the transfiguration permanent? I don't think I would mind being a snitch. Life would be less complicated that way.
...
After dinner, Harry found his way to Tom Riddle's office for his private lesson. His knocked hesitantly at the door.
"Enter," replied the familiar voice from within.
Tom Riddle's office was unexpectedly pleasant. Harry realized as he entered the large, book-lined study that he had half expected something cavernous and eerie. But Tom Riddle's office was warm and welcoming; a fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, and the bookshelves were filled with ancient leather-bound volumed that appeared to be about defensive magic, rather than horcruxes and necromancy.
Tom Riddle was sitting behind a large mahogany desk, grading student essays. His dark robes were flung carelessly over a nearby chair, and he was dressed, to Harry's surprise, Muggle style, in dark slacks, a white shirt, and a tie that was loosened at the neck.
He got up and greeted Harry with a smile, and Harry found himself smiling back.
"Let's sit over here by the fire, Elias. These chairs are more comfortable." Tom indicated two deep armchairs by the fireplace. "Would you like some wine?"
"Wine-?"
"Don't look so shocked, Elias! You are of age, aren't you?"
Harry pondered this for a moment. Yesterday, in my own time, I was sixteen. But today, I am a seventh year student, so I suppose I must be seventeen?
"Er... Yes."
He accepted the goblet Tom Riddle offered him and sat down at the edge of one of the chairs.
"Tell me about yourself, Elias."
Harry could feel his cheeks growing hot. He took a sip of wine and stared into the fire. "I don't think there is much to tell. I'm an orphan. I like to play Quidditch. I'm happy to be here at Hogwarts, and I want to learn as much about the Dark Arts as you can possibly teach me."
"Who is the young woman with red hair? She is significant to you, isn't she?"
Harry looked up in shock. Ginny? How does he know about Ginny? She won't be born for many years yet. Is it possible that Tom Riddle can see into the future? If he can see Ginny in the future, can he see me there as well?
"I'm sorry," said Tom Riddle softly. "That was thoughtless of me. I didn't mean to startle you. It's just that I thought I sensed an image in your mind when you were resisting my Imperius curse. Oh, don't worry - I don't usually read people's minds. I can sometimes sense some of their emotions, that's true, but not more than that. But when I tried to cast the Imperius curse on you, an image flashed into my mind, and I thought perhaps it came from you. She was a rather lovely young woman, with hair like a flame, and kind eyes."
"Oh." Harry almost managed a smile. "My... My mother."
"Your mother?" Tom Riddle looked thoughtfully at him. "But you are an orphan?"
"Yes." Harry studied the carpet; he really didn't want to meet Riddle's glance. "My mother is dead. She gave her life to protect me."
A silence followed. Then Tom Riddle whispered: "Did she? She must have loved you a great deal, then."
Harry nodded, eyes still on the carpet.
"My mother is dead as well."
Harry looked up and met Tom's silver glance for a moment. I wonder if he feels any sadness for her...
"And my father. We are both orphans, you and I." Tom spoke lightly now. The flickering firelight cast a warm glow over his pale, handsome features.
"How did you father die?" asked Harry quietly. I already know the answer. You murdered him, Tom, the summer before your sixth year. I wonder if you would ever tell me-?
Tom's face was white now. "My father... was murdered."
"So was mine," said Harry softly. By the same person as yours. You.
They gazed at each other for a moment in silence. Then Tom whispered: "How very strange... I think I can see it, the image in your mind now. I see a man who resembles you, crumpled on the ground, and the red-haired woman and a small child. That must be you... A terrifying dark-clad figure with inhuman features is approaching the child, wand raised. And she... she flings herself in front of the child... Is this your memory?"
Harry turned his face away. "Yes, Professor Riddle. Apparently, you can see into my mind. And..." He paused, as the image of a small dark-haired boy in a cramped, dreary room, crying into his thin blankets, entered his mind. He reached for his wine goblet with a trembling hand and emptied it in one gulp. "And I can apparently see into yours as well."
"How very odd..." He felt Tom Riddle's gaze linger on his face, but he didn't want to look up. "We seem to have some strange connection, you and I. Perhaps... perhaps we are meant to be friends."
"Friends?"
"Not this year, maybe; you are still my student, but next year you will have graduated from Hogwarts."
Harry nodded, not knowing what to say.
"But for now, I will simply teach you what I can, Elias Black. What do you want to learn? Can you conjure a patronus?"
In response, Harry pulled out his wand and whispered: "Expecto Patronum!"
"Beautiful," whispered Tom Riddle, as his glance followed the shimmering silver stag around the room. "That's a very difficult spell, Elias. It's one that I'm having trouble with myself."
"Do you?" Harry studied the still beautiful face of his future enemy. I wonder what his patronus would be? A serpent? "It's not that hard; you simply needs to focus on your happiest memory."
"Perhaps," said Tom Riddle softly, "that's where my problem lies..." He smiled a little. "Are there no spells you are having problems with, then?"
"Yes. One." Harry turned his wand slowly over in his hand. "The killing curse."
Tom's eyes widened. "The killing curse? Who do you wish to kill, Elias? Ah, of course, the inhuman creature who murdered your parents... Is he still at large, then?"
Harry nodded silently.
"Well, I think I can help you with that. Give me a little time to think it over; I should be able to conjure up some sort of shadows for your to practice on, and then later you can move on to something else. Animals, perhaps? But you had better not announce the nature of these lessons to your friends."
Harry felt his heart thundering in his chest. "Don't worry, I won't." How terribly strange this will be. You will teach me how to kill you.
"Let's meet again tomorrow... Oh, that's right; Slughorn is having his little soiree tomorrow evening, isn't he? I'm afraid I promised to come. You will be there too, I hope? We'd better make it Monday, then."
Harry got up and walked towards the door. "What about the weekend, Professor Riddle? I don't mind coming in for a lesson on Saturday."
Tom Riddle laughed. "My dear Elias, you may not have any plans for the weekend, but I do. My fiancee is coming to spend the weekend in Hogsmeade."
"Your what?" Harry stared at Riddle.
"My fiancee, Elias." Tom Riddle looked slightly annoyed now. "Why so surprised? I know that I am still quite young, but I am a Hogwarts professor, and I can assure you that my salary is more than sufficient to support a wife."
"You are planning to marry-?" Harry's voice faltered. Voldemort married? What an absurd thought! Would she one day become "Mrs. Voldemort"? "The Dark Lady"?
Tom Riddle flushed. "Yes, I am, Elias. Why the astonishment?"
Harry shook his head, flustered. "I... I just didn't think you were... the marrying kind, that's all..."
"You didn't think I was the marrying kind?" Riddle's voice was frosty now. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Most respectable men marry, do they not? What are you insinuating, Mr. Black?"
"I'm...not..." Harry stared at Tom Riddle in confusion. "I'm so sorry, sir, I did not mean to insinuate anything... It's just that... Well, you are still so young, my age, almost, and I really could not see myself thinking of... of marriage for a very long time..." He flushed under Tom's penetrating glance.
To his relief, Tom shook his head and smiled. "It's all right, Elias. I know you didn't mean it the way it came out. You yourself may not be ready to contemplate marriage for a long time, but I see no reason to wait. I have been fortunate enough to win the favor of a very lovely young lady from an ancient pureblood family, and I wish to make her my wife as soon as I can."
"Yes, of course..."
"In fact," Tom's silver eyes glittered now, "my fiancee is distantly related to you, I believe. I have been fortunate enough to win the hand and the heart of Alphard and Cygnus Black's older sister, the beautiful Walburga."
Walburga Black? Where have I heard that name before?
It took a moment, but then the realization hit Harry like an Unforgivable Curse. Sirius' mother! The one in the portrait! But this isn't right - she can't marry him! She is supposed to marry Orion, who will become Sirius' father... If Tom Riddle marries Walburga, Sirius will never be born...