Chapter Thirteen
"Seek freedom and become captive of your own desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty."
Frank Herbert
May 8th 1949…
Athelinda had been to sleep, or rather she pretended to. She didn't know how she managed to fall asleep, but she did. And she woke up soon enough.
Her nightmares were violent and vivid. Images of her brother Rhaegar, shaking his head, sadly, disappointed, before turning away. He had been right. Images of Willamar and her mother looking stricken, her father and Winny anguished. And Tom. Above all else, Tom. This time with him turning towards her. His image distorted with various shapes and changes in colour sporting out of him, and turning into beasts and demons- shadowy, winged terrors, demons possessing him deep within, a light coming out of him, and turning dark as pitch, and she knew it was his soul.
Athelinda felt herself in a room. All around her, she saw nothing but black.
"I did warn you," a voice said softly.
She turned sharply and would have gasped if she could. It was Rhaegar. Pain shone in his blue eyes and he shook his head. "You hated me."
No, Athelinda wanted to say.
"You sought freedom from my shadow. But it was not my shadow that you were captive." He looked anguished. "You sought another's. You've sold your soul. To a monster who murders others to split his soul. At least I didn't do that. You've lost your soul the minute you trapped yourself to him. I've lost my sister. The sister whom I cherished and tried to protect. You didn't want my protection. You didn't love me. You didn't care. And now you've paid. You're alone- with him."
No! Athelinda wanted to scream.
"Athelinda." She heard another voice say.
She turned, despite not wanting to. There was Tom, smiling in a charming way at her. He reached out for her. "Athelinda."
He reached out his arms. But now Athelinda could see the nails, like claws, curving, stretched towards her. His skin, she noticed as he got closer, was as white as bone. And she saw other things. She saw sharp teeth like fangs, and those eyes- those black eyes! No longer like hers, but red, vivid red. With slits for pupils and his mouth smiled, teeth inside like fangs, only these weren't Naga fangs.
"Remember," he whispered. "You gave yourself to me. You gave yourself, and willingly. Your brother tried to stop you. You left his side. You glorified in my shadow. Is that not what you want? To glorify yourself, by the side of the Dark Lord."
Athelinda couldn't even gasp. She couldn't breathe.
His hands reached out. They were colder than anything she ever felt before. They seemed to grip her to the bone. She couldn't even cry out in pain, or move.
"Remember," he whispered. And she looked up, terrified, to find his black hair gone, his face distorted like wax, with the nose melted inwards, slits for nostrils. But he was Tom. She knew all along he was Tom. Somehow, she couldn't have mistaken him for anything or anyone else in the whole world.
All around her, the dark swirled into a whirlpool, or a black hole in space. Sucking everything, including light, which she somehow knew were the souls of others, screaming, howling, wailing in agony. She felt her soul being sucked out too. She wanted to scream. She fought hard, to pull it back in. To keep it anchored.
"Husssshhhhhh," Tom said, trying to soothe her. "You will be….immortal."
"Your brother is gone," he whispered. "Soon they will be dead. And I shall reign as Dark Lord. Dumbledore will be nothing. Even Grindelwald will bow to me. And Hogwarts will be purged once more, through my noble servant, until all filth is cleansed and Slytherin House shall hold all in its grasp."
Athelinda tried to pull away. She tried as hard as she could.
"My soul for this," he whispered. And a white light seemed to shine out and pull itself from him, and roared. It rolled in the air, twisting, turning, agonising, ripping itself into two- and more. It was horrifying to watch.
"Remember," he whispered. "Your child…. Our child will be mine. Always."
She heard the screams and cries of a genuinely terrified baby. She even looked down and saw…. The child. Her son, curled up and Tom's hands, like pale spiders moved down, as if to grasp or ensnare her child like a predator slowly moving, before grabbing onto its thrashing prey. Her baby's screams escalated, in utter terror, pleading, no begging, more desperate for her to help than anything in the universe.
Athelinda jolted awake.
She was gasping from the dream.
Shaking, more frightened than ever, for what she had done.
Now she was wrong.
Oh, how could she have given it all up? How could she have made the wrong choice? How could she have given herself to a man who ripped his own soul apart by murder?
And how could she have been so willingly blind and lured by such evil as one who will become a Dark Lord? He certainly had the ability. He had the motive.
He loved power. Power more than anything else in the world. More than her. More than his child.
She was still haunted by the screaming of her baby in her dream. She realised there was one things she had to do.
Getting out of bed, Athelinda checked Tom was not there. She cast spells, first wand-spells. Then Atlantean spells of powerful complex magic that not even Tom could perform. Just to check for his presence, and the presence of alarm spells and warnings about her.
She dressed. She packed whatever she needed and stowed them all in a bag, with an undetectable extension charm. Athelinda went to kitchen and had breakfast. Tom was already there.
She didn't speak to Tom. She put up a good act- convincing him, she hoped, that she was still angry at him.
But eventually Tom spoke.
"Well, my Nagini?" He murmured. "My little Naga-woman? My Nagini?" He had taken to calling her that after she reminded him of that episode. He came and tried to kiss her, but she moved away, pretending to be annoyed, when deep down, she didn't want to be touched by anyone, least of all him. The memory of those pale-spider hands reaching out to grab and ensnare her baby still haunted her. She put up her occlumency shields.
"Athelinda?" He sighed. "My Nagini, please." She didn't look at him. She couldn't look at him now, knowing what he was and did. Not without throwing up or fainting dead in ice.
"See you tonight," she said bluntly. Those were the last words she would ever say to Tom Riddle. And it was a lie. But he needn't know that.
Tom sighed. "Right, I'm off to work. Bye, love, my precious Nagini."
Athelinda wanted to vomit.
Tom left. She could hear him disapparating.
"Goodbye Tom," she whispered.
Athelinda waited for a long while. Then she stood.
The air was biting cold, but she hardly noticed it in her desperation.
She had packed enough food. She had all that she needed. Now all she needed left was to get out of there.
Wrapping her cloak around her, Athelinda pressed her hand to her belly. The warmth of her skin, indicated that she had managed to keep that part of her warm, at least. The baby stirred.
I know, she thought. I swear I will make this right. I swear I will get you out of here.
She had to. She must. She had to find Rhaegar. The only one who could save him from Tom. Whether he might take her back, she didn't know. She swallowed. Tears welled in her eyes. She hoped he would listen. If not for her, then for her baby.
She needed to save him. Her son.
She took off. She didn't have a broomstick. And it was unadvisable to Apparate during pregnancy. Could she create a portkey?
Athelinda ran. She ran as she never had before. Oh, why didn't she buy a broomstick?
There were woods, nearby. She ran through the trees. Whatever creatures she would encounter, at least they weren't him.
She needed to get out. She needed to get him safe.
Icy fear swept through her as she thought of Tom, and that he would rip the baby from her belly. She had no doubt that he would. All she doubted now, was his sincerity and love.
He can't be capable of that.
He was a monster.
A Monster.
A Dark Lord.
A Dark Lord who made Horcruxes to store his soul for immortality. It was unnatural. Inhuman. Unfeeling. Cruel. Cold. Calculating and murderous. Uncaring and hungry to gain power, no matter what. Even if he had to bathe in the blood of the whole world.
That was who she married. This man. The monster and Dark Lord.
Athelinda grabbed a tree, and heaved inside, retching, but managing to keep it all in. She didn't know how. She wasn't sick that morning. Maybe it came late.
Eventually she couldn't take it. All the shock, horror, the fear, the terror and exhaustion kicked in and she was retched. She gasped. The baby roiled in her belly in protest.
Numbly, she stroked it, trying to soothe it, and get heat into her belly. It would make him feel better. She should have a drink.
She reached a lake. Athelinda's legs burned. She didn't realise how long she had been running. She knelt down by the water's edge, cupped her hands and plunged it into the waters. Bringing it to her mouth she took a sip, first one, then more, slowly, one at a time, before a terrible craving took over and she plunged her hands in once more, and swallowed greedily. She could not help herself.
More. She needed more. She plunged her hands in again, and then abandoned the effort, and pulled her face down to drink. She was desperate. She wanted water. She wanted all the water in the world. She drank deeply, swallowing desperately, eagerly, thirstily.
She wasn't feeling all well. But she needed to move. She needed to get out of there.
However she had forgotten something significant.
The heavy gold locket with emeralds touched the lake waters, and in an instant, it jolted.
It sprang up and jumped out of the way of the lake, in terror, seemingly, of pure water.
Athelinda gasped as the heavy chain, suddenly flew back and yanked her away from the lake, throwing her to the ground. It jerked and twisted, twisting and pulling the chain taut around her neck. Athelinda choked and gasped as the locket with the heavy chain pulled itself away and back to the direction it came from. In terror, as if it had a mind of its own.
She choked. She had forgotten to leave it behind, in her haste to appear normal before Tom. And now she thrashed, rolling from side to side, hand tugging uselessly at the chain, as the locket swerved and dragged her painfully, slowly, the direction where she had come from.
The world blurred before her eyes. Athelinda could barely gasp. Everything seemed to fade to black. The baby! Would he die there to, because of her folly?
She drew her wand. Casting a non-verbal spell, a jet of red light landed on the chain, but it bounced back. She gave a choked moan! No! Even if she deserved this, her son would not die like this!
Her child kicked helplessly in her belly.
Summoning all her teachings and memories of Atlantean magic, she cast a spell. A spell so ancient, that Tom would not have known about it.
Suddenly the locket's chain snapped, and she gasped.
Rolling onto the ground, she felt her eyes close, and the world to disappear and go to black.
Athelinda slowly opened her eyes.
She could breathe. Instinctively, her hand went to her belly. Her child was alright.
She took several gulps of air, and suddenly was aware of another presence.
A smooth slithering of scales upon the leaf-and-twig-covered ground harkened to her senses. Something smooth and very soothing rubbed against her arm.
She felt a gentle pressure on her torso.
Surasa gazed at her with her wise golden eyes.
She nearly wept with relief.
Surasa nudged her, wanting to know if she was alright.
Athelinda weakly nodded. Surasa, being accustomed to her mistress' gestures, slowly relaxed. Athelinda sat up and looked with distaste at the locket.
And hatred. This was it. His thing. His monstrosity. His abomination.
His Horcrux.
Hate blinded her, and made the world seem red. She raised her wand, then remembered that she couldn't damage it. Even with the Atlantean spells she knew, she doubted she could damage the thing.
"The others," she rasped in parseltongue. Athelinda winced. Her throat still burned from the locket's attack.
"Have they come too?"
"They escaped," Surasa hissed. "They would not stay with you gone."
Athelinda sagged in relief, then frowned.
"They will find you," Surasa said. "Not to worry. But he won't."
Athelinda froze. Somehow, Surasa knew. Knew that Tom, was a monster.
"But your egg," she whispered. She paled. "I left it behind."
"He defiled it," Surasa hissed. "He defiled my egg. My unborn. He damned it. Defiled it with dark magic. He cursed it. Now my child is gone, before it broke through its shell."
Athelinda froze. But she knew not to ask any questions. Surasa nudged her foot.
"Let's go," she hissed. Athelinda grabbed a twig and told Surasa to slither up around her shoulders, and hold tight- but not to choke her.
"Portus" she whispered, pointing her wand at it. It glowed with blue light.
And they were gone.
Tom stood frozen before the sealed jar before his bed.
She was gone.
Athelinda- his Athelinda, his Nagini, was gone.
She'd left.
She left no note.
She left no trace.
She did not even say goodbye. They were both gone. Her, his wife, and his unborn child.
The egg nearby incubated still Her wedding gift.
The locket was in his hand. The piece of his soul.
She had worn it. The priceless heirloom. The symbol of Slytherin.
His soul. And now she discarded it.
There was a tapping nearby.
It came from the jar.
He unsealed the lid, using magic.
He took it out. The large egg, pearl-white, ovular. There was a tapping. He watched it. Expressionless. Numb.
A crack split the shell. A shard burst through. It fell to the floor. A tiny green head poked out, slithering and sniffing in the indistinct way snakes have.
It uncoiled inside the shell, and pulled itself out. A female, coiling in Tom's palm.
The snake looked up and regarded him with cold, calculating, intelligent eyes. So like Athelinda.
"Nagini," he hissed. "My Nagini."
His Naga Queen.
He clutched the locket tighter, as the snake coiled up closer to him, basking in his warmth.
At this point Nagini is not a Horcrux just yet- she was turned into one when Bertha Jorkins was killed. After all, didn't we wonder about the origins of Nagini? I doubt that such big snakes are found at random in the forests of Albania. The dark magic Tom must have put inside her probably explains her attachment, obedience and loyalty to him, apart from parseltongue. Of course, Tom names her Nagini- what he calls Athelinda, which is the word for a female Naga- because despite being hurt, like him being unloved in his early life, he denies it and outwardly shows extreme hate and aggression. But this is a rare glimpse of his heart and ripped soul (literally and metaphorically). However, I'm not sure if this is a reason to redeem him- this is no typical love story, and next chapter Athelinda really unravels and makes sense on whether or not what they had was love as she thought.
And she meets Rhaegar next chapter. Oh boy, what's going to happen next?
Edit- 26/09/2015: Okay, so healers always advise pregnant women not to take portkeys. But hey, these were the 1940s! Back then woman smoked and drank when pregnant- they didn't know that it would likely damage the baby. Furthermore, at least she didn't apparate- that would be a million times worse!