Soul Vow
Chapter 1
Harry stared at his trembling hands. They were stained crimson. His ears were ringing with a silence that was utterly telling of what was going on around him; or rather lack thereof. He stared down into those red hues that bore up at him with a gaze that spoke of nothing. Those eyes had brought forth so much intense feeling that it was world-spinning worthy to know that they would never look at him mockingly, glare, narrow in distaste or with misplaced mirth ever again. However it was a telling point of the red eyes stillness that made Harry aware of the finality of everything. He had done it. He had killed the darkest wizard ever known to be.
His eyes suddenly clenched shut.
A young boy turned in his chair and smoothly slide from his seat upon the visiting aged man entering his barren bedroom. His brown eyes taking in the newcomer with a hidden scope that portrayed none of the boy's curiosity. Instead of questioning who the man was he simply waited for them to speak first. Hearing his name being addressed and the tale of something that might not be so full of nonsense did he speak finally. "I can make things happens, I can make bad things happen to people who hurt me. What proof do you have of being able to do the same?"
Flames burst into life around a closed doored closet. The aged man gave a head motion to it as he spoke to the boy who glanced to the sudden sight of fire with a hushed look of wonder. "I think something is trying to get out of there, my boy."
The boy's lips twitched but the action was so slim it was hard to tell if it was going to form a sneer, a pout, a frown or even a sign of nervousness one would expect from an 11 year old upon seeing fire springing up from out of nowhere and so close. The flames vanished as the boy stepped up to it and opened the door, reached down and pulled out a box, then closed it once again. The lid sprang open, brown eyes grazed over the stolen yo-yo, pocket knife and box of broken crayons before jerking upward at the aged man whose gaze was stern as they looked to him.
"Hogwarts does not condone stealing, ."
He had killed the Dark Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle Jr, the son of a desperate witch and a rich muggle man who had the same opinion of those who believed any type of oddity was the devil's work. And had promptly fled the mother of his bastard child unknowing that his son bore his own name. A son who grew up to know nothing but resentment, hate, swift independence along with manipulative charm and the need to be the strongest. The most worthy of attention and the one being to never be subjected to their past again.
Fear itself.
"Professor Dumbledore, is it true?" His uniform black shoes stepped up a few steps onto the mini landing and took a motionless stance there. He set his brown eyes upon the aged man, those blue eyes shifting to him with a gaze that was un-telling and made his feet shift against his will. But he did not break eye contact upon having it. "They can't really close down Hogwarts, can they? I have nowhere else to go if they do."
"I am sorry Tom, but it is true. Hogwarts has simply become too dangerous and Headmaster Dippet has no choice but to close the school."
He nearly swallowed but instead merely shifted the placement of his hands to clasp loosely behind his back. "What if the creature or whatnot was caught? The school wouldn't have to close then, surely?"
The aged man's blue eyes bore into the younger's own gaze with the same intensity they had on that first day upon meeting the 11 year old version of the boy before them. "If they are caught then no, I do not believe Hogwarts would have to close."
A moment of silence would have entered had it not been for a small crowd of people coming through the archway behind Dumbledore; two of them carrying a stretcher with a covered lump that was unmistakably a body. It was proven further correct as a dead pale arm slipped off the stretcher's surface and dangled lifelessly as it was carried past the two. The boy's brown eyes followed the hanging limb for a moment longer before returning to Dumbledore who had tilted his head in a way that was silently questioning and reinstalled caution within the boy.
"Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?"
There was so much to be told. The harshness of the war that more than merely touched the city he was forced to live in. The disgusting and horrible treatment of the orphanage he could not escape from. The truth of his own brand of moral action of personified justice. So much that to even speak even a whisper of it would be damning. And depending on the hearing ear; it could be a rushed sentence into a prison or mental ward. Or even on the dim good chance; freedom and understanding of a young boy's hardships. It wasn't to be told though. "No, sir. Nothing."
For all the evil Voldemort had done he had not known an ounce of love. A concerned word there, a pity gaze here and a veiled promise of better things to come that was misty at best. There were no bonds of friendship, no comrades of the true meaning of the word and nothing tying Tom Riddle Jr to any other being but himself and the gross history of his own namesake and upbringing. He didn't have a Ron or a Hermione. He didn't have a second family like the Weasleys or a secret guardian watching his back nor countless other bonds that would have stood up beside him. Not in fear but driven by a stronger force that even the threat of death could not shake.
"I see many of you have come to answer the call of your master." He stepped in a way that turned his back to the stone-pinned boy he had been tied to by the forces of fate and prophecy. "However I wonder as to why some of you did not think to look for your master...apart from my most faithfuls who now reside in Azkaban and shall be freed for their loyalty."
"My lord, I am most faithful! If I even had an inkling of how to-"
A scream broke the otherwise hushed air of the graveyard.
"Yaxley. You were among those to claim imperius . Did you think I would not have known of your coherence? Many of you in fact have caused me disappointment upon my return. So many to let loose the campaign of true culture and rights the so called Light wants nothing more than to stifle." Red eyes slid over the many skull masked faces cloaked in black that stood in a semicircle. "Tut tut." A wand waved once more and Yaxley returned to his feet and back into his space between two other Death Eaters then pointed to the bound boy without a spell firing off. "You all know Harry Potter I presume? The boy who seemingly caused my downfall and survived the killing curse." There was a moment's pause. "Know this to be false."
The Death Eaters roared up after a single voice in the back exclaimed how they knew all along some baby-brat couldn't have bested their master. The man they cheered for allowed a mock smile to form as they turned around in a smooth motion to face the boy they spoke of. He walked up to the ebony haired boy and held a pale hand up as if to touch them. "Yes, Harry Potter. I recall our time in the chamber with Quirrell. You shall be happy to know I have taken care of the minor issue you had presented to me upon that night." He pressed a finger to the boy's lighting bolt scar. "I could not touch you before but now, now I can."
The scream that tore from the boy's throat was muffled out into a harsh breathing as he removed his finger not a moment later. And not in some pity move to lessen the pain coursing through the young boy but rather to, or seemly to, soak up the rooting noise his followers made upon the painful touch. He ignored them soon enough but did not take action to quiet their applauding sounds as he addressed the boy once more and asked upon their knowledge of dueling.
A duel was struck between the two. A duel that had an unforeseeable outcome. His wand and Harry Potter's connected in a way none had ever seen before and brought forth the deceased spirits of those with a strong enough will to breach the world of the living for a tense moment. None of his Death Eaters had attempted to aid him. Only when the boy was running away did they strike and then it was too late as the forgotten portkey was touched and Harry Potter was swept away.
Voldemort had been Tom Riddle once.
Like Harry had been "That boy" up until his starting year of Hogwarts. Both orphans, both regarded as nothing, both living beings with emotions however different in scales of levels and both fighting for what they wanted to accomplish. And both having been human once. Harry couldn't count himself as a human being anymore after having killed the man who had marked him as his equal even if the man had stopped being a man of humanity long before that.
Harry opened his eyes once more. Red eyes met his gaze. He reached out and gently slid the pale lids of the eyes to cover those red hues. He let his hand rest upon the madman's eyes not caring in the least of what others might think of the softened action. He had more in common with Tom Riddle than Harry had ever thought possible. He couldn't help but wonder. Wonder how they grew up to be so different despite sharing such similar upbringings. Even Dumbledore had not denied their likeness upon Harry's questioning after the death of the giant snake in 2nd year.
"Your thoughts are loud, child."
Green eyes snapped upward from their resting place upon the back of his own hand to look around him. He finally took in his surroundings then; completely forgetting the voice upon the sight of a half destroyed Hogwarts. Countless dead bodies spread out over the grounds, mourning people who managed to live through it and the heavy scent of death coating the magic heated air. A motion to the right of Harry caught his attention even when he spotted Neville Longbottom dropping the sword of Gryffindor before collapsing to the floor in a heap with his hands coming up to cover his face. Harry wasn't sure what he was looking at after jerking to look at whatever caused the motion but he was quite sure it was not human even if the form was similar.
The non-human but humanish looking thing was made entirely of black billowy smoke that seemed incapable of remaining still. It reminded Harry of the smoke that rose into the air above Ron's house when it had been set on fire by Death Eaters. The eyes were like the burning sparks of ember that littered the air as the house continued to burn. It was completely off putting. "Who are you?" Harry picked up his wand, not even sure when he had let it go, and pointed it at the thing. "You're master is dead, don't think I won't kill you too if I have to."
The thing remained eerily silent for no longer than a minute that somehow felt like hours before speaking. "You can not kill me as is, child. However the corpse that houses no soul that you claim to be my master is not so. In fact, child, you are."
"I'm not a- wait, he's..-I, what?"
"Tell me, where do your respects lay?"
The question through Harry's already confused and stressed out mind. He looked from the smoke-formed humanoid to the dead body of Voldemort, his hand still covering the man's eyes, then to the distantly placed people around him. He mulled the question over. He wasn't sure what the man, the voice was seemingly male after all, had meant but as he looked over the fallen bodies and those walking passed them or to them, he thought he had an idea. His mother, father, Sirius, Remus and the others came to the forefront of his mind and he closed his eyes. The dead would always have his respect. He wasn't aware he had even whispered out his thoughts until it was too late.
A tug to his navel very much like apparating was the waning he hand before every blurred around him then shuttered in and out of itself with flickers of movie like scenes that Harry had the feeling were actually snippets of people's lives in play. It continued for a second longer before blackness was all that he saw around him before gray brick walls appeared on either side of him to form a type of hallway. Only that before and behind there were no doors but simply an endless black that seemed to creep upon the walls. It was as he moved to stand up did he feel something still understand his hand.
Voldemort's body was still with him.
"Does that once-living mean so much to you?"
Harry looked away from the body to the thing. He hadn't noticed it at all upon first looking around. "What?" came the befuddled reply.
"I asked, for you have brought him with you to this realm, child. An action not of my intention but if the once-living man has such a tie to you, then I shall change my offer to the Master of I."
The confused look to overtake Harry's face apparently wasn't enough to prompt the smoky thing to explain their words to him. "I'm sorry, but could you repeat that? I'm sure, I must have got the gist of it wrong."
"You are an odd one, child."
"I am? You just told me that I'm, I am, the master of you. And I'd like to think my memory isn't that shaken up that I would have remembered meeting someone like you. More so becoming your master when I don't even know who you are! And where the bloody-hell is here?"
"You are in my, what is it you humans call it, home? Place of being? Other such similar words to deem this area belonging to I. As for who I am, I was not aware you had not been informed of the items you have gathered to possess."
Harry furrowed his brows. "What items?"
The sudden sight of sharp interlocking teeth set into a glasgow smile against the smokey pure black of the thing's own body was completely terrifying. "The Deathly Hallows. The tools I bestowed upon your ancestors." Here the thing seemed to have given a raspy sound that Harry had an odd feeling was actually supposed to be a chuckle of some sort. "Your direct ancestor, Ignotus Peverell, was not afraid of I and you, child, remind me vastly of the man."
"You...you're Death?" whispered Harry with wide green eyes and a shaky breath that would have been shaky if any air had actually left his body. Something he realized rather quickly and promptly freaked out about until Death, Death, informed him that breathing wasn't necessary. His body suddenly had the urge to shut down but he pushed through it; mainly because he still didn't know where he was and voiced the question once more.
"A timeline I believe you mortals call it."
"Looks more like a hallway…" replied Harry as he eyed the extending length for a moment before retiring his focus upon Death. "Why am I here though?"
And Death explained.