Chapter 124:
"Clever boy," she smirked, cruelly, a twist of her lips. "And you are?"
"My identity is not your concern," Tom said, "though the fact you don't know makes me doubt your own intelligence and position….the Dark Lord didn't tell you?"
If the situation wasn't so dire, Harry would claim they were having an evil smirk-off, but the situation was dire, and so he pushed the thought away dismissively before it could settle in hysteria.
Bellatrix's eyes flashed.
"The Dark Lord trusts me above everyone else," she sneered. Despite how they really should be running, Harry seized on the thought. Bellatrix…trustworthy….loyalist…Horcrux?
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he remarked, lazily, tauntingly. Dark eyes snapped to him.
"I have no need to ask who you are…itty, bitty, baby Potter," she crooned, before growing more serious, lips drawn back in snarl. "Or is it, as rumour would have it, Potter Evans?"
"Potter Evans Perevell Gryffindor, if you want to get into the specifics of it…though personally I find that a bit of a mouthful," he replied easily. "Now, if you'll excuse us…" he curled his fingers on Tom's sleeve in an indication to move, because Voldemort would be here any moment and his scar was burning despite his shields.
Wands raised more pointedly
."You're not leaving," Rodolphus (?) deadpanned, with a crazed glint in his gaze.
"That's right," Bellatrix laughed, wildly, taking a step forward. "The party's only just starting, and the Dark Lord bids the two of you to stay, it would be very rude of you to leave now…what's the rush?" she bared her teeth at him, widening her eyes. "Don't you like us?"
There was a roar of raucous laughter from what he presumed was the lesser Death Eaters, the lower ranking ones, who flanked the three at the front - Bellatrix, Rodolphus and…Lucius Malfoy.
Oh if Abraxas was here! Wasn't there meant to be two Lestrange brothers? Where was the other one? His thoughts were frenzied.
"Well, if you want an honest opinion…" he smiled coldly, insinuating. No. He didn't like them. He had no love lost for any Death Eater.
Lucius was regarding Tom warily, his mercury eyes narrow with fear and suspicion. Voldemort was getting closer. He would be there any moment.
Harry could feel the world narrowing in on them, and the dozen or so Death Eaters that surrounded them. He exchanged a quick look with Tom.
Then they began to duel.
Abraxas chased after Zevi, who pulled Harry's friends to a halt at the foot of the Grand Staircase.
"Hey-get off her!" Weasley growled, but the Prince Heir paid the red head no need, dragging Hermione off out of the crowd of students heading to their respective common rooms.
"Where's Harry?" Zevi demanded. He stopped next to the other boy, studying the brown-haired mudblood carefully, his features composed.
"With Tom," she said, a hint of worry in her voice, along with an infusion of resignation. "I'm not sure where they went…why?" she bit her lip. "Do you think something's wrong?"
He and Zevi exchanged looks, their left arms burning uncomfortably.
Alphard had gone in search of Sirius Black…and Lestrange, well, it didn't really matter what Lestrange was doing! He was nothing anymore. The twit was probably whining in hopes some first year Hufflepuff would pay him attention.
"Oh god," Granger moaned, having taken their silence as some form of confirmation. "I knew I should have gone after them!"
"They wouldn't have appreciated it," Zevi told her, distractedly. "Tom, certainly not, if he wanted you to come he would have made it perfectly evident."
"Tom came over, to find Harry, didn't he?" Abraxas verified, crowding her.
Weasley seemed about to say something, but he couldn't be bothered to focus on the ginger. If Weasley's had any sense to contribute to a discussion, they wouldn't be filthy poor blood traitors.
"Yes," she said, and he could see her thinking furiously. "I-does a Prophecy mean anything to you?"
Abraxas caught his reaction in a way only a Malfoy-raised pureblood could, stifling the widening of his eyes and the shock in his magic. Zevi did the same, but his jaw tightened almost unnoticeably.
"They mentioned a Prophecy?" he demanded.
"Are you certain? What else did they say? Did they say-"
"They just said that Voldemort's after the prophecy!"
He went rigid.
Voldemort.
He still wasn't used to hearing that name, Tom's name, the ramifications of that name, and the possible future identity of their lord.
A fine name, but distorted it seemed by the passing of years. Weasley flinched, violently, and it gave him some gratification, but not much.
He looked at Zevi, not really sure if they should be doing this.
Tom liked initiative, but only when it suited him, worked well and didn't interfere with his plans. He didn't like it when they pried into his affairs…but…he couldn't escape the feeling something was wrong.
The Dark mark burned in his arm, in all of their arms - burning so hot that he almost cried out at the pain of it. Tom clearly wanted their attention, if it was even Tom at all...
His stomach twisted with unease.
"The ministry," he murmured. "My father…in the Department of Ministries…they keep prophecies…"
"They've gone to the Ministry?" Granger cottoned on quickly, despite the fact that he was actually directing his observations at Zevi.
"Is he in trouble?" Weasley demanded, looking about to shake them. "Stop being so bloody evasive, and just tell us - Merlin! I'm going to kill Riddle if he dragged Harry into trouble!"
"More likely to be the other way round, ginger," he snapped coolly. "Tom's the careful one out of those two."
"With Voldemort?" Granger questioned furiously, apparently ignoring Weasley's flinch too. "We have to go after them! Are you sure that's where they've gone!"
"Oh no, no," he said quickly, grabbing her arm…wasn't she supposed to be intelligent? Gryffindors! "If the Dark Lord is there, we cannot go there, and you most definitely can't.
""Well, I'm not going to abandon Harry if he's in trouble!" she retorted, coldly. "Get off me, Malfoy!"
"You don't understand-"
"-Slytherin cowardice, no I can't say we do," Weasley interrupted brashly. "Come on, Hermione."
"-Look, Granger," he tightened his grip on her, inwardly cringing at being this close to the taint of her muggle blood. Salazar. He was going to have to use so much disinfectant after this! "If you go, you are just going to be a liability to them!" he said bluntly, harshly. "You're smart, your heritage aside, surely you've noticed Harry, at least, has a bit of a saving people thing? If you get anywhere near him when Voldemort, or even Tom is fighting with him, you aren't going to be any help to him, you're merely something else he has to protect and keep his attention on!"
"The Dark Lord would use you against him without hesitation," Zevi cut in, his gaze blazing. "You'd be better off going to alert someone to where they've gone."
Granger seemed swayed by the logic and rationality of this, as well as by her love of authority, though it conflicted with her immediate desire to help her friend.
Weasley appeared stubborn, unmoved. He silently prepared to stun him if he had to; it would be his pleasure.
"What are you going to do?" she asked. Abraxas couldn't help but admire her resoluteness, and the fact that she hadn't gone into a total panic, as well as her loyalty.
"Meet my son."
Harry was fighting, wildly, viciously - using the Dark magic he'd restrained from for so long, as well as the light. Death Eaters lay fallen around them, mostly the lesser ones.
He ducked Voldemort's curse.
Tom was duelling a multitude of Death Eaters, not exactly by preference, but as they were all coming for them one of them had to deal with them, and Voldemort wasn't casting curses at his younger self currently.
It made more sense for Harry to defend himself, rather than duel Death Eaters as Tom protected him from Voldemort.
That, and to be honest, he'd rather keep Voldemort and Voldemort's memory charms away from Tom. His breath was harsh, his muscles straining with exertion.
It was difficult duelling, but he liked to believe he was holding his own okay. He wasn't unscathed, but neither was Voldemort.
They weren't going to win though, they both knew that, they didn't have the same level of training and experience as their opponents, however above their age level they were, and there were simply too many opponents to contend with.
It was just a matter of stalling, and trying to edge their way to a place where they could run or pause for just a minute to activate Tom's ever present to portkey.
Sure, it would take them to Little Hangleton first, not straight to Hogwarts, but anywhere was better than here. As derogatory as it was, and how honest, it was only because the Death Eaters had orders not to seriously or permanently harm or kill Tom that the other wasn't overwhelmed, and it was only that none of the Death Eaters targeted him while he duelled Voldemort that he was still standing.
It was two against fifteen or so, or, two against nine by now - but those were nonetheless harsh odds. And it was exhausting.
He and Tom were back to back, and though that automatically prevented sneak attacks, it also somewhat limited movement.
Twenty minutes later, the superior number of their enemy finally won out, though neither of them could have said who was the weak link.
It happened too fast - he didn't know if he'd been distracted by Tom's involuntary sound of pain, and then Voldemort's curse had promptly hit him in that split-second of non-attention…or if Voldemort's spell had already hit him, distracted Tom for the moment it took for him to get hit himself.
It happened too fast, but the end result was the same, and they ended up defeated.
Everything seemed to stand still - and then a green light was soaring in his direction.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Tom reacted on instinct, tightening the restriction he had on the mark, wincing as Harry smacked into him, sending them both to the floor.
The killing curse hit the spot Harry had just been standing in, leaving an ugly scar on the floor. Voldemort's gaze shot to him, menacing, murderous.
He muttered a spell quickly, ignoring the beginnings of Harry's protest, or struggle, he hooked his arm strongly around Harry's chest in anticipation of his next move, and met the Dark Lord's eyes with vicious challenge as a sharp pain shot through his heart from the magic he had just cast.
The room had suddenly gone deathly silent.
"What the hell did you just do?" Harry asked, his voice a mutter.
"I tied my life to yours," he replied, loudly, to drive the point in further.
Voldemort took several slow steps towards him, making no sound except the softest swish of his robes on the floor. The air between was wrought with electricity and danger.
He sincerely hoped Harry could keep up with like he suspected, that he'd caught on to the plan…
"Very clever, Tom," Voldemort breathed. "What next? You've solved nothing, that spells not complete, and so can be reversed. You need Potter to agree to it for it to become permanently binding, and I can't see that happening, can you?"
Yew levelled in their direction once more, unwavering.
He could feel his heart pounding.
"I don't need it to be binding, because I won't willingly reverse it," he returned quickly. "Kill Harry, and we all go up in smoke…is it worth it, gramps?"
Voldemort's eyes were scarlet slits of rage and hatred, humiliation.
"I can still obliviate you.
""No," Harry protested, abruptly, desperately, struggling even more in his grip. "Don't you dare!"
"And then what?" he dared, cutting over the younger, aware that at some point this conversation had become to be about him and Voldemort alone. Their power play, their fight, not really Harry's so much this time.
This was about which of them could outsmart the other, which of them was better.
And he would not lose.
The Death Eaters were watching intently, somehow sensing the importance of this conversation - especially the Slytherins, who must recognise the shift and swirl of power and dominance.
If he could fragment Voldemort's forces, take them for his own…
"I have no memory, his life is tied to mine…you don't suppose I'd give up on him on the understanding that he must hold some significance to me for me to half form that spell?"
"You would if I tortured you. No one will stand the crucio, least of all you, for some boy they can't remember." That yew wand levelled in his direction. "Without your memories, you are me."
"Are you willing to bet on that?"
Voldemort circled, levelling the yew wand in the direction of his head.
"Goodbye, Tom Riddle - obliviate!"
A/N: So, it's short...but this seemed like such a perfect place to stop it. Or maybe i'm sadistic. But it seemed like a good place to stop it to me.
I feel this story is lagging again though. Hmm. But I also feel like I should push on to the end, and I know i'll enjoy writing the next few chapters and the end and stuff in between at least. I think it's when some scenes just jar me. Like action scenes. I'm not good with action. I'm better with the character-y talk-y aftermaths, or so I've found.
I'm rambling.
Hope it wasn't too disappointing - wish me luck for my exam tomorrow!
I'll try and update with a better chapter soon, don't want you guys to lose interest, that would be depressing :)
PS: SCORE! I got an offer from my first choice of uni! Best Creative writing course in the whole country! Yes! :D
I just have to get the grades now...
PPS: If any of you have tumblr, I posted my blog link thing on my profile, if you're looking for people to follow!