[this chapter contains the f-word, and a little bit of gore. I haven't gone completely off the deep end...all this stuff is relevant to my oddball plot, I promise.]

Chapter 31 - Operation: Raising Tom Riddle, part 4

Tom was shaking by the time he and Aleksandr made it back to Violet's house. If those wizards had taken us seriously as a threat...Tom envisioned the torture, a slow and horrible death in a concrete bunker, never to see his family again and they never to know what had happened to him. Dying in pain and fear, alone. Nothing could stop the panic attack this time.

Alek sat beside him on the stoop, offering quiet words of reassurance, but the horrible feeling just kept erupting, wave after wave of terror. The sound of gunfire and screams and children crying and bodies hitting the ground and explosions all blended together into a cacophony that would not relent.

It felt like it went on for a very long time. At some point he became aware that Violet was there, too, on the step above him, pressing her hands into his shoulders. "All right, Tom. All right. Would you like to come inside and have some tea?"

He met her parents in a tear-streaked daze. They made extra sandwiches for him and Aleksandr, and thanked them both for the Portkeys. Tom was dimly aware of Alek talking to them, suggesting they return to Britain or offering to Apparate them somewhere...Tom couldn't focus on the details. Everything was hazy, as if viewed through gauze or cobwebs. The bone china teacup in his hand was rattling against the saucer. There was a shout from the street, and he bolted upright. "Ready to go?" asked Alek quietly.

Violet saw them to the door, even though they were going to Apparate. Alek waited outside while she said goodbye to Tom. She hugged him and stroked his disheveled hair, told him he was a good person, and to write her and not to worry. She kissed him on the cheek and on the forehead, because she could see that he wasn't well.

Aleksandr handled the Apparitions. The grounds of Durmstrang were dark and hissing with summer insects. Tom heard snakes in the tall grass whispering 'come to me', voices soft and plaintive, and he wanted to lie down among them. A moment later, he would have done, he felt so compelled, but with a sudden pang he realised that he was only hearing their mating call; it was not for him. He was a slave to his human existence and there was no escape. He let out an odd, high-pitched laugh. Alek turned and locked him in a stare, gray eyes filled with alarm. "Tom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you into this. I was desperate for company and it was wrong of me to put you in danger and push you so hard. You asked me if I was afraid of turning evil, and now I am. I'm afraid and I'm sorry."

"No, listen...this isn't...I'm not going mental or anything. I'm not going to have a breakdown and become a liability for you. It's just one hell of a long panic attack."

The blond boy very gently and subtly insinuated his psychic feelers deeper into Tom's mind, to the core of his fear and the thoughts surrounding it. Alek blinked and then said, "Please don't do it."

"Do what?"

"Make a horcux. Don't you know you're thinking about it?"

Tom wiped a hand across his forehead. "Am I?"

"Oh, Tom...yes, you are. I don't want your soul to be destroyed. Maybe that's not what a horcrux really does, but if it is I don't want that happening to you. You are a good boy."

"So are you."

Alek shook his head. "My childhood ended four years ago. You might think it was when my parents were killed, but no. It was the first time I took a life."

Tom imagined twelve-year-old Alek killing someone, and contrasted that with what he'd been doing at age twelve, as a second year at Hogwarts. The difference in experience was so stark, Tom supposed that he really was still a frightened child compared to his friend, but considered that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.

The panic attack had finally faded, and now he was left with an aching feeling in his chest. Joy and sorrow were tugging his heart in two irreconcilable directions. He wanted comfort, love, and gentleness, and he wanted everyone else to have these things, too. He desperately wanted to go home, and he wanted Alek to have a home to go to. He would be happy because he was grateful for all his blessings, but he would never be perfectly happy again, not while his friend was sad, not while anyone suffered, and somehow that felt right. It felt like the very least he could do. "I promise I won't do it. Don't you do it, either."

Aleksandr nodded, and Tom saw that things worked the other way, too. Alek needed to believe that good people existed, or he wouldn't be able to go on fighting for them. If there were no joy left in the world, his sorrow was meaningless.

As they entered the castle they nearly slammed into the Highmaster, who boomed, "My office, now."

Tom's blood felt like it had been replaced with ice water as they followed behind the Highmaster. He looked at Alek, who just shook his head once and yawned, making the point that there was no reason to be concerned, yet.

Despite Alek's nonchalance, Tom still expected to see Aurors, Dementors, French police, Nazis, or maybe one of each waiting in the Highmaster's office, but certainly not his father with Fawkes perched on his shoulder. Albus didn't look angry, only worried. As soon as he caught sight of Tom he leapt to his feet, just as Tom threw himself into his arms. "I forgot to write last night."

"Mum was worried. She made me contact the Institute and they said you and Aleksandr hadn't shown up for class today and couldn't be found on the grounds. What happened?"

Tom regained his composure and took a step back. "I got it into my head that I needed to see Violet. I made Alek go with me. It's not his fault."

"You went to Paris?"

"I had to see her."

"I think I understand," said Albus, eyes twinkling. "Well, you're all right. That's what's important."

"Excuse me," intoned the Highmaster. "But it is not the policy of Durmstrang Institute to operate as a hotel. Our students are expected to adhere to the rules, which include a strict curfew and a zero tolerance policy for absenteeism without a medical note."

Tom said, "I'm sorry, sir. I had a panic attack, so we stayed the night. We would've been back before curfew and been at class, if not for that."

Albus perked up. "In fact, my son does suffer from a medical condition, attacks which can last for hours at a time. I can have his doctor owl you-"

"Unacceptable."

Tom said, "But-"

"Do you realize that Aleksandr Varsky is the most promising wizard of the century? I will not have him debauched and distracted by the likes of you. Chase skirts on your own time! You will leave my student alone!"

"Highmaster, you offend me," said Alek. "To imply that Violet is anything less than the most respectable well-mannered young lady, and to insinuate that Tom is anything less than a perfect gentleman is simply insulting. My good friend Tom has known Miss Violet since childhood and we were paying a friendly visit to her home when there was an explosion in the city center. It frightened all of us and it caused Tom have one of these panic attacks. To travel in such a state would've been unsafe. He was nervous to distraction and could've easily been splinched. You can't possibly have wished him to be splinched, or for me to leave my friend in distress."

"No, of course not, but there are certain rules. If Tom is not well enough to continue studying here, he must return home immediately."

Tom hadn't slept in nearly forty hours and it showed. It would have been easy to make a case for exhaustion, but he said, "I'd like to finish out the last twelve days of the program, Highmaster, sir."

"It's your father's decision."

Albus cleared his throat. "Well, these attacks are rare, and they aren't a health risk. I doubt it will happen again. Still..."

He turned to Aleksandr and continued, "What do you think, Mr Varsky?"

Alek appeared openly nervous for once. Tom knew that the older boy was only concerned for Tom's well-being but he felt a slight sting when their eyes met briefly and he saw that Alek wished he would go home. "Sir, your son is extremely talented and has progressed a lot in his studies here. If he wants to stay, I think he should be allowed to stay."

The phoenix suddenly let loose a piercing cry and flew over to rest on Alek's shoulder. Fawkes began to sing very quietly, and the boy's expression became either agonized or ecstatic, it was hard to tell. Tears came pouring down his face, unstoppable, and he reached both hands up to press them over his heart. "Oh," he said.

"Varsky, are you all right?" asked the Highmaster, shocked.

"Y-yes. The explosion...frightened all of us."

Alek closed his eyes and focused on the blissful feelings of warmth, courage, and calm that flowed from the fire-colored bird. Fawkes continued to sing for a few minutes, as Aleksandr stood stock-still. Albus remarked, "Such a long song, for one so young."

Eventually the phoenix fell silent, then took a turn sitting on Tom's shoulder before returning to Albus, who asked, "Feeling better?"

They both nodded.

"Okay, then! See you in twelve days, Tom."

His father smiled. The Highmaster bellowed, "Get to bed, the both of you!"

They walked together in silence to the dormitory. All of the other boys were already asleep. They crawled into their beds, and before Tom blew out his lantern he asked, "Why'd you say I should stay, when I know what you were thinking?"

Alek was lying flat on his back, eyes closed. "You didn't regret it...any of it. Even though you want to go home and forget about all this, you're too brave and stubborn to turn away. I can't argue with that."

"Did Fawkes make you afraid?"

"Afraid? No...it felt like...healing."

"That means you're pure of heart. So, you don't have to worry about turning evil. I don't think the Sorting Hat knows everything. I'd rather trust Fawkes than the hat. Though...I wonder what house you'd be in."

Alek began to snore lightly. Tom put out his light and continued, "Probably Gryffindor. Ah, but you plan for everything, and you don't want to glorified as a hero. Slytherin seems appropriate, and to tell you the truth, I'm desperate for company, too...but...I wouldn't call you ambitious. You said study and practice made you this good...that sounds very Ravenclaw, but you also get stuff done. Hmmm...well...I guess it's Hufflepuff, then...hard work and determination...loyalty...patience...and nobody would ever...ever...suspect a Hufflepuff...and maybe you'd even be...happy..."

Fawkes' song reverberating in his subconscious mind, Tom dreamed that he was a snake in a forest, basking on a sun-dappled rock beside a stream of cool clean water.

For the next twelve days, they didn't disobey a single school rule or break any local, international, moral, or magical laws. They didn't go on another mission. Alek wanted to lay low in case other Nazi wizards were on the lookout for whoever had used magic at the Vel D'Hiv. The officer who had connected the Portkeys to the train interceptions hadn't lived to report his suspicion, but Alek wanted to rethink his strategy, just in case he encountered wizards on his next outing. Besides, he needed time to make Portkeys. More money arrived from the U.S. and Canada, and Tom helped him in the evenings. Before they knew it, it was time to say goodbye.

They stood on the lawn, Tom with a duffel bag at his feet, Aleksandr with nothing. Tom had noticed on the first day of class two summers ago that Alek had very few personal possessions: two pairs of trousers, four shirts, his school robes, and the two extendable bags, which were now destroyed along with all their contents. As far as Tom could tell he had no memento of his family, not even a photograph. Tom asked, "What'll you do after you graduate?"

"Stay on and teach Dark Arts. The Highmaster is very excited about it."

"At Hogwarts we call it Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, you know Durmstrang...we have a reputation to uphold."

They shared a laugh. Tom said, "And you'll still..."

"Yes, of course."

"I don't want to stop, either. But I'm not sure what to do."

"Go home. Study. Practice. Write to me."

"You can visit whenever you'd like-"

Alek suddenly stepped forward and hugged him stiffly and very tightly, then abruptly broke the contact, and said, "I'm sorry. Was that wrong?"

Tom remembered how Violet had hugged him, kissed him, caressed his hair and face, how she had pressed her hands into his shoulders, and he thought about how he had leapt into his father's open arms, been comforted by that welcoming touch. Now he pictured Alek in all those moments: standing aside, seemingly indifferent. Had he touched anyone in the past four years? He didn't need to ask to know the answer; Alek was blushing terribly. "No, it wasn't wrong."

Then Tom hugged the taller boy, longer perhaps than was deemed appropriate by society's standards, but he wasn't ashamed; it felt natural. He rocked his friend back and forth slightly, soothingly, before slowly pulling away and picking up his bag. They shook hands, exchanged one last look, and then Tom turned on the spot and vanished.

The Diary of Tom Riddle-Figg-Dumbledore

October 18, 1943

Fifth year. School is like some kind of silly dream compared to the bigger world. Only weeks into this term and I'm already bored by classes. Dad is giving me all the 'extracurricular enrichment' he can think of, but of course, I've got my own. Fixing the "Slytherin problem" is exhausting...every year there's a new batch of brainwashed kids to deprogram. Alphard Black and Abraxas Malfoy have turned out to be loyal friends. Malfoy thinks status (wealth) is important but he doesn't care about the pureblood thing. Alphard doesn't really care about either and he thinks his family is a bunch of idiots, but he's just the quiet, super-polite and mannered type. He'd rather be a silent rebel than be disowned at this point in his life, you know?

Hermione is talking about founding a graduate school for witzies to attend after Hogwarts. I think that's a great idea. It would be good to have more options. As things stand, the options are: a) get married and settle down immediately after graduating, b) become a professor at Hogwarts, c) become an Auror or other government official, d) become a Healer, e) become a dragon researcher or some other ' magical scientist', f) corner the market on a product, à la Ollivander, g) open a pub?

I wonder why witzies don't go to Muggle universities. Certainly a witzie with a doctorate in physics or chemistry would be useful. And if we're EVER going to co-exist openly with Muggles, we need to know about their politics and history, don't we?

I wish everything made more sense.

Well, if I do take option b), I'll teach D.A.D.A. and Muggle Studies, and if Hermione opens her grad school I'll teach there, too. Or I'll go into politics with Abraxas and we'll take over the witzie world. He can be Minister of Magic, I'll be director of the intelligence agency (which I'll probably have to found myself).

Seeing Hermione and Harry is odd now that we're all about the same age. I'm fifteen to their sixteen, but I'm taller than them. Thank Merlin that Hermione is still smarter than me or things could get weird. She says she's in love with some bloke named Ron, and Harry says he's in love with a girl named Ginny, and Ron and Ginny are siblings, and neither of them are time travelers. I guess things are already weird, huh?

I've been to see Violet once a month. Her family stayed in Paris, and they continue to help people hide and escape. Alek has been helping them.

Alek and I haven't stopped.

January 1, 1944

Today is my 16th birthday. Violet and I did something that a gentleman shouldn't discuss.

I love her. I am so grateful for her. She is smart, kind, patient, and so brave.

April 19, 1944

I did something terrible. A seventh-year Slytherin girl cornered me in the Potions closet and kissed me and I kissed her back and things progressed further than they should have. I'm a horrible person. God, how could I do that to Violet? I want to die.

April 20, 1944

I told Violet what I did and apologised so much...and she was hurt but she forgave me, and somehow it just makes it a million times worse and I feel even more horrible and undeserving of her. I am the biggest git in the world, worse than Salazar Slytherin. I don't know if there's a pit deep and dark enough for me to fall into. I RUINED EVERYTHING.

June 2, 1944

I did it. I had to do it. They'd put one of those torture-clamp things on Alek's hand, the kind of thing that doesn't come off unless the person who put it on takes it off, but there were too many of them and they were taking him somewhere where the torture-clamp was just the beginning so I did it and I don't regret it. After, Alek had to cut his hand off or the pain would've driven him insane. There was no other choice once the man who put it on him was dead. We still tried everything we could think of but he started screaming and then just cut off his hand with some spell. It bled so much even with the healing spells. I got him to St. Mungo's where they could've put his hand back on but that damned thing still wouldn't come off the severed hand and there was nothing they could do. Fuck whoever invented that thing and fuck the Nazis and fuck the war. Fuck this whole filthy pathetic excuse for a world.

I did it and I don't feel any different. Just angry about Alek's hand. I'm probably in shock.

July 8, 1944

I was in shock, but I still don't regret it. Alek is the bravest person I've ever met. He didn't even cry over losing his hand and it was his wand hand, too. He says every witzie is ambidextrous, it just takes extra practice with the non-dominant hand. He's already amazing with his left. Ridiculously talented wizard.

Oh, explaining it to Mum and Dad and everyone was a real treat. We didn't confess to any Unforgivables, of course, but the details were all true. We said we went to visit Violet and her friend Claire, and two French policemen stopped us and asked to see our papers, which wouldn't have been a problem except they weren't just Muggle police, they were undercover wizards who must've detected our Apparating there. The Nazis apparently have a special task force for finding wizards who might be helping people escape occupied countries, and the Vichy government is complying with this. Anyway, they said his papers were fake, and so he tried to Apparate and couldn't (they had an Anti-Disapparition forcefield or something, because they never drew their wands) and before he could try anything else they put that device on him, and he panicked and the rest was self-explanatory.

The idea of Alek cutting off his own hand was so grisly that nobody bothered asking how we got away from two powerful wizards.

Actually, there were four. I got three, Alek got one. I could make three horcruxes, but I won't, of course.

Violet didn't think what I did was wrong, per se, but I could tell it terrified her. Her faith in my goodness has been replaced by doubt, as it should be...even though it hurts more than anything for me to accept that. I think it's safe to say that things are really over between us.

Alek has been recovering at our place. He'll go back to Durmstrang in late August, and I have half a mind to go with him, but he says I must graduate. I wonder if he didn't know the war was going to end in May, would he be so optimistic about the future?

Right now I'm ready to burn it all. I know I'm behaving irrationally...I'm sixteen. If my family ever read this diary I'm sure they would think I'm becoming a monster. I haven't even told you about the security measures I've put on it, have I? It's based on a Soviet spy encryption system that Alek explained to me, with a code that is randomly generated and only used once. Maybe that's a bit paranoid considering how trusting my family is, but I feel like it's more for their protection than mine.

May 8, 1945

IT'S FINALLY OVER. The whole family and Alek took to the London streets with a million people and we saw the King and Queen and Winston Churchill on the Palace balcony. Alek couldn't stop crying with joy...I've never seen him so happy.

I guess life really does go on, and it's a good thing I'm going to graduate in a month.

June 23, 1945

I got top marks on all my exams. I can do whatever I want with the rest of my life. Alek is going to be a teacher and I guess I'll do that too, at least until I'm old enough to be taken seriously, politically speaking. Nobody wants a seventeen-year-old sitting on the Wizengamot. Though, Abraxas has been the British Youth Representative for the last five years, but he's another story. Anyway, with Abraxas in place and my dad as the Chief Warlock, it's there whenever I feel like stepping up.

I feel like I can finally breathe. It's like a massive weight has been lifted off of me. I just want to spend my life making sure there are no more wars. That might seem idealistic, but there isn't anything more important to me. Ah, well...there is Saskia Malacrea. We've been seeing each other since January. She's a brilliant Ravenclaw, she'll be going into her seventh year this fall. Long black hair, pale blue eyes, Muggleborn, a certified genius who studies particle physics! She was invited to participate in some kind of elite program in the United States this summer. She left right after she took her final exams without waiting for the results, and said she doesn't know how intense her workload is going to be, but if it isn't so bad maybe I can come visit her in America.

July 15, 1945

Saskia invited me! I'm meeting her at an old church in a town called Socorro, New Mexico at 3 am tomorrow (her time). She was very clear that I should not be late.

"You said it was the middle of nowhere, Saskia, but I didn't quite believe you."

"Amazing, isn't it?"

He had met her at the pseudo-pueblo style church, but she had soon Apparated them both to a flat expanse of desert, where they appeared to be quite alone. He couldn't help but find her mysterious behaviour alluring. "It's beautiful. What's this place called?"

"Jornada del Muerto. Spanish for 'single day's journey of the dead man' or 'route of the dead man.' And I am dead if I get caught. I really really shouldn't be doing this. I signed waivers and contracts. I could be fined and do jail time for inviting you here. This is top secret, no joke. I guess I must really like you, to do something so stupid."

Tom was impressed and a little nervous. "Who's around to catch you?"

"Oh, about two hundred people, in bunkers. All waiting," she checked her watch, then looked up at the sky. "It was supposed to be at 4 am, but it's cloudy and there's lightning, so we're waiting for the weather update. Let's go inside the bunker for a while."

He followed her into a small concrete structure, with a rectangular window at eye level, a walkie talkie, and some scientific-looking equipment in the corner. "What's going on here?"

She distracted him for about an hour, until the radio crackled and a voice said, "We have a positive weather report. Twenty-minute countdown begins at 05:10."

"Great. Time for a quick breakfast," she said, pulling a thermos of tea and some toast with jam out of her purse.

"Countdown to what?" asked Tom casually, between bites.

"Today we are testing the first nuclear bomb. We don't know exactly how large the blast will be. Now's your chance to leave, if you think it's too dangerous."

Tom inhaled a gulp of tea, and spent the next minute coughing. When he had recovered, he glanced around the miniature bunker. "Will this shack really protect us?"

"Should do. I transfigured a two-inch-thick layer of lead for added protection."

"H-how far away is the bomb going to be?"

"Twelve miles. The closest observers are about six miles away from ground zero, but that seemed too close for comfort, to me."

"Six miles...nine kilometers...that's too close?"

"Like I said, we don't know how big it's going to be. Put these on," she said, licking jam off her fingers and handing him a pair of goggles.

He obeyed, and she put on a pair of her own. She checked her watch and stood up. "Five minutes. Last chance to run away."

Tom stood up beside her. From that distance they couldn't see the tower where the bomb hung suspended, but Saskia described it to him in detail. "Two minutes," she said breathlessly.

The flash was blinding, much brighter than the midday sun, in colours of gold, green, white, purple and blue, and the bunker briefly felt as hot as an oven. An enormous ball of fire rose miles high into the sky and mushroomed out. Forty seconds later, the shockwave hit them, and Tom couldn't contain his scream of terror. "What is this?"

"They called it Trinity."

"This...this is what you've been working on?"

She nodded, a light sheen of sweat on her pale face. "They couldn't have done it without a bit of magic, though of course they'll deny that. Magic isn't really 'magic', you know, it's just manipulating the base code of reality on a level that most people can't understand or don't bother trying. Muggle science and our 'magic' can be united."

"At what cost?"

"Sanity...and the world."

Tom took off his goggles and stared at her. She was trembling and taking short, shallow breaths, frightened or aroused, he couldn't tell. "Why does this bomb exist?"

She shook her head slowly, eyes fixed on the horizon, and let loose a crazed humorless laugh. "Because it can."

I'm dating a mad scientist, thought Tom. "Was Germany working on this, too?"

"Yes, but their program never got off the ground. We just used it as an excuse to create an incredibly deadly weapon."

"The war is over. We'll never need to use it."

She focused on him, then. "God, I hope not."

Tom already felt sick, but the feeling deepened into panic as he realised that the time-traveling portion of his family had never once mentioned the atomic bomb. "Saskia, I'm about to have a sort of...fit. Would you please Apparate me home?"

"Okay, but first we should check ourselves for radiation."

He made a few choking noises, and then passed out.