The boy who lived. What a load of crap that title is. I don't live. I've never really lived. I've been imprisoned in an abusive home by so called family members, gifted with oversized hand me downs even Aunt Marge's pit bulls wouldn't want to chew on. I don't have free will, the only sliver of freedom I get is when I am shipped off to Hogwarts under the watchful eye of our esteemed Headmaster.
Yes our esteemed Headmaster.
The hairs on the back of Harry's neck rose sharply, breathing hitched, blood pressure spiked.
"Is someone there?" Harry asks into a dark room. His cousins old toy room gifted to Harry after the Order made some threatening remarks. Be a good little prisoner and you'll be given a bigger cell. Back on topic here. What was that voice that Harry heard? What was that voice that I Heard?
Ah so your shields have finally fallen young Potter.
"Who are you? Where are you?" Harry said aloud wishing he had his wand instead of that obese whale of a man called my uncle Vernon requiring it to be locked away with all other evidence of me being a wizard.
Quiet down! The last thing we need is that whale of a muggle waking up!
The voice… it sounded so familiar yet Harry just couldn't place it. Something about it seemed almost… It couldn't be… Am I going crazy? The voice it sounded like… Mine.
Well what should I sound like? I am inside your head after all Potter. I am inside your head, your body, your CORE, I AM INSIDE YOUR SOUL! I AM YOU! You sit here and whine about being imprisoned in this hell hole muggle hovel but I AM THE REAL PRISONER. I have been here with you Potter. All those cold hungry nights with nothing but a spider as a friend. I was there when you battled the basilisk, and faced that fake personification of a soul attached to little Ginny. I was there as those beasts attempted to suck OUR SOUL! Where do you think you found the power to summon a Patronus strong enough to repel more than 100 dementors? Yes young Potter I WAS THERE, I was ALWAYS there. And who was there when you faced HIM in the graveyard? I was there I ever so slightly was able to guide your hand, to twist your body just slightly so that another spell would miss OUR body. I was there with you. You ask who I am and I waited so long for this day to come. I planned to twist and warp your mind rip control of your body and take possession of this pitiful starved and beaten body. To take us away from here and away from the True Dark Lord.
"THEN WHY DON'T YOU?!" Harry screamed, blind rage filling his words, tears beginning to stream down his face. "TAKE CONTROL, WARP MY MIND! RIP MY SOUL FROM MY BODY AND LEAVE ME HERE NOTHING BUT A HUSK! Just as those dementors should have in third year. You say you are me, you are my soul and you have lived what I have lived. Then you know that my entire purpose in life has been to be raised for slaughter like nothing but cattle. I am the prophesied one I am the boy who lived. I hold the power he knows not. But you know this because you are me." Falling backwards onto the toddler sized bed Aunt Marge so graciously provided for him this summer. Tears fell and dried, anger boiled over and subsided, hatred, depression, anger, sadness all came and went. Silence reigned.
Turmoil. That was the only way to describe it really. As Harry slept, exhaustion getting the better of him, turmoil swept through his body.
Years I have been attached to this child, hating, seething, ready to rip his mind to shreds. Then years past. By the age of 3 for Young Potter I was able to start seeing what it was he saw. It was the first crack in the protection left by Lily Potter. Mudblood she may be but truly she was a genius who did not care about dabbling into the darkest of blood magic if it meant protecting her only child. That protection held me at bay just enough that I was stuck here the first horcrux to be imprisoned to a living host. But at young Potters age of 3 when his Aunt Petunia struck him in the head with a frying pan and further locked the bleeding boy inside the cupboard under the stairs the protection cracked.
Now some may think It is because I am not the benevolent Dark Lord who kills without hesitation that my reputation proceeds. But in truth It was self preservation. The protection that Lily Potter designed, no created it had levels of security, security that could not be bypassed with ill intentions. So it was not that I cared for the bleeding, brain hemorrhaging boy that hosted my soul, It was for my own self-preservation that I knew without this host it would be short time before my soul was released to the depths of hell. So I ever so gently knocked on the entrance to Harry's magical core and upon being judged by Lily Potter's dying protection it allowed me a sliver of magical control.
Years of being a dark lord has taught me how to caress the flows of magic. Like a small ball of playdough I stretched and pulled that sliver of magic taking an ounce out of a gallon, I was able to heal my host. Just before I felt the control of that sliver of magic being yanked back I was able to do one more thing and that was grant my own self a corner, no a cupboard under the stairs, inside Harrys mental shields. Not enough to do anything with, but just enough to see, hear, taste, and almost live within this body.
So now here we are, yes it is we. I am him and he will be me. We will be one. But no longer do I wish to rip the controls of Harry's body from him. Now I wish for nothing but for him, and I, for US to escape this place and to show the world just how powerful we are. Harry Potter, Tom Riddle, together as one. It's almost poestic.
It is with this INTENT, and Harry's mental fortitude breaking to a point of suicidal intentions arising, that I approached Harry's core just I have 4 times prior. The defense Lily Potter put in place stood proud yet weak. For even though genius prodigy mud blood she may be it was her own protection that held Harry's very much OVERSIZED magical core inside it's own cupboard under the stairs, and currently the door was bursting at the seams hardly able to control the oceanic waves of power the boy held. I knocked my metaphorical knuckles onto what could best be described as something akin to Lord of the Rings, Dark lord I may be, but muggle raised just as Harry I am.
I felt the old blood magic tense and stand tall, I felt the judgement pass through me, I felt the gentle hand of Lily Potter caress my cheek, my intentions could not be clearer. The protections of Lily Potter broke away, dust in the wind.
Turmoil. Tsunami may be more fitting. Drowning, smothered more likely. Harry's core was now free. Magic reigned over this pitiful body. He almost didn't deserve this… But I have already made my mind up. Like a conductor drawing an orchestra to attention, but yet more like a wild dragon with the power to rip you to pieces with one mighty blow. Tom Riddle with all his years of experience in the numerous magical fields began to repair all the wrongs that have been done to his Host. Physically there will be no signs of malnourish, no glasses to wear, no scars of the whales belt lashing across our back. Mother magic will renew my host for no one on this earth can conduct the orchestra of magic like a Dark Lord.
End of Chapter 1
This is a short one. It's just the beginning of a story outline that I have in the back of my head… almost as if someone is speaking it to me as my fingers stroke the keys.
Let me know your initial thoughts? Want to see some more chapters?
