Blood On My Name

by sadlybeans

Voldemort, the Dark Lord, was defeated as the prophecy tells, by a teenage boy who had nothing but love and friendship at his side, his reign of terror over in a single night. After darkness enveloped him, Tom Riddle woke up in his eleven year old body, with the knowledge of the future and his past mistakes… Now the question is, will that knowledge help him avoid his destiny?

9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 Notes

TW; Usual mentions of death although this chapter is slightly harsher than others but nothing graphic, talk about sexual activities although it's a baseless accusation

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Once the chaos of the holidays had calmed down their classes resumed as normal. The second task would not be until February, and thus their professors took the chance to load them with work. Many protested, but Marzan was happy to do his homework and not think about the blasted tournament. He already felt much better too, so he was finally allowed to use his magic freely during class, not that it made that huge of a difference… his classes were child's play for him and he barely had to make an effort to stay on the top. However, he of course shouldn't have assumed everything would go back to being completely normal so soon…

"Seriously? This is the best you can do, Potter?"

He eyed the gang of idiotic teenagers surrounding him and folded his arms across his chest, utterly unimpressed.

"Shut up, Gaunt" Weasley jabbed his wand at him "You think you can get away with being an embarrassment to our school? You fucked up the first task, so now we are going to make you pay"

They were about a month or two too late for that but alright….

"I would be glad to let you compete in my stead" he replied blankly, utterly unimpressed.

Potter walked forwards and pressed the tip of his plain wand against Tom's throat, a clear threat that any wizard would take as a direct declaration of 'I'm trying to kill you'… in short, a clearly stupid move. Luckily for the group of stupid boys, he could never be afraid of them or felt intimidated by them. They should be damn grateful they were dealing with him and not Voldemort or they'd be dead already.

"Don't get smart with us, snake. Just who do you think you are, huh? You think that you can do whatever you want because you get on your knees for Malfoy? That we should treat you as an equal? Don't be so arrogant"

Marzan blinked, taking a second to process the innuendo, since he hadn't heard an accusation like that in… well, centuries really. He had to give him points for creativity at least, and for catching him unguarded for once.

"Apologies Potter, I didn't think you'd be into that sort of thing…"

Fleamont suddenly leaned back, looking at him with confusion mixed into his scowl.

"What?"

"Fantasising about your classmates having affairs?" he replied with a malicious glint in his eyes, delighted by the bright red that was now matching perfectly with the Gryffindor's robes. "Sorry to disappoint you, but the rest of us have more productive things to do rather than daydream. Do consider starting a career in writing romance novels however, I'm sure it'd be a hit with the girls"

"You—!"

McLaggen raised his wand, halfway through pronouncing a curse, when they were suddenly interrupted.

"Misters McLaggen, Mallory, Weasley, Potter, I believe you should know by now that duelling in the hallways is against school rules"

Potter stepped back, tucking his wand behind his back instinctively, and Marzan narrowed his eyes slightly, openly glaring at the offensively bright magenta robes that Dumbledore wore. That stupid fucking old goat, of course it had to be him, only he had balls big enough to call their clear ambush a 'duel'.

"Sorry, professor Dumbledore" Mallory said quickly, as the less dim witted of all four of them. "We were just… we didn't mean to cause trouble"

"I should hope not" he said, lowering his head to look at them over his half moon glasses, causing them to flinch. "That will be ten points from Gryffindor. Do go back to your common room, it's late and we wouldn't want to disappoint professor Beery"

"Yes, sir"

Avoiding to look at him, the four boys started walking quickly down the hallway and as soon as they turned on the next corner they heard their steps as they ran off. Marzan stared at Dumbledore in silence, waiting for him to walk off, but the damn man just… would not.

"It is late for you as well, Mr. Gaunt. Allow me to accompany you to your common room"

Well, it wasn't like he had another choice… he pushed himself off the wall and started to walk just slightly behind him, refusing to turn his back on the traitorous goat. This was probably the first time they had directly interacted since that one incident in first year… in transfiguration class Dumbledore never asked him questions or looked at him other than to give him reluctant perfect grades, and Marzan never piped in during class either despite his more than healthy participation in every other class he attended. In fact, the entire castle was aware of the silent cold war between them and how they liked to pretend the other didn't exist. Suffice to say, his guard was completely up, and not only because of the past. Marzan was smart, as anybody would be able to tell; he knew Dumbledore had thrown his name in the goblet for some unknown forsaken reason only understandable to that twisted mind of his, he could recognise the cadence of that handwriting anywhere even if it wasn't the usual cursive scrawl, and there was no other person in the castle that would attempt the same except perhaps the gang of Gryffindors accosting him a few moments ago… but the boys were stupid, and their pride would never allow them to craft such an elaborate scheme that had such low chances to succeed, and that on top of that could 'shame' their school.

"I have to say Mr. Gaunt, I'm impressed by your resilience so far. Not every fourteen year old student in this walls would have been able to participate in the tournament and handle his schoolwork at the same time"

Marzan almost wanted to give a snippy retort at the backhanded compliment said in a fake jovial tone.

"Thank you, professor" he replied cordially instead.

Dumbledore sighed, pretending to be a bit sad.

"We didn't start on the right foot, did we? I hope we can move past it now"What sort of non apology was that? "If you ever need anything, from your home life to schoolwork advice, you know where to find me"

His what now? Marzan was about to say something truly rude at the audacity, but right at that moment when they turned towards the dungeons they ran into the tall imposing figure of Elerhys Dracul, whose brow crinkled at the sight of them walking somewhat side by side.

"Professor Dumbledore" he said coldly.

"Ah, professor Dracul" as much as he was a good actor, Tom could see the twist of concealed disgust. "I was escorting Mr. Gaunt back to the dungeons, I found him with some of the fourth year Gryffindors… I shall leave him in your capable hands now"

Professor Dracul inclined his head in a nod and Dumbledore walked away, although both of them remained silent and rooted in place until he was truly gone, before the vampire looked down at him, examining him with a glance.

"What sort of trouble did you get yourself into?"

"Those stupid Gryffindors thought they had the right to corner me and reprimand me for not finishing the first task of the tournament" he grunted, crossing his arms. "They should be grateful I didn't even pull out my wand"

"They weren't punished" it wasn't a question.

"No. I don't care, I'm just happy to be rid of them"

Professor Dracul sighed and gestured for him to come, and they walked side by side down towards the dungeons. However, there was something else nagging at him… he doubted for a moment but ultimately asked.

"Dumbledore said if I wanted to talk about my home life I could ask him— what did he mean by that?"

Truth to be told, he felt a twinge of panic as he thought that perhaps the old coot had found information about his father and what truly happened with him and Merope Gaunt, if he did that could be disastrous. He already had more than enough to worry about in his last days, he didn't need the fucking bastard to add to the mix. Professor Dracul looked at him, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

"When you stayed with us over the summer, the CPD started an investigation on whether your uncle is truly fit to look after you" he confessed, for his surprise. "They notified the school about it as well, every professor knows"

His mouth fell slightly open. First of all, Morfin wasn't fit to look after anybody and that was true but he also wasn't abusive… he was more terrified of Tom than anything else, they kept a healthy distance aside from their verbal spats. And— every professor? He put his head in his hands.

"It's not that bad, why— He's not great but I'm fine! And the whole staff? Are they looking at me with pity now?"

Professor Dracul looked down at him with a frown.

"All evidence definitely points to it not being 'fine'. And no, nobody is looking at you with pity, you wouldn't have found out if that man kept his mouth shut"

"Morfin doesn't hit me" Marzan emphasised "he mostly just ignores me and lets me be, we hardly ever talk"

"Even if he didn't" he did not! "Neglect also counts" the man replied as he leaned down slightly over him.

"I'm fifteen! I can look after myself just fine, he feeds me and all that stuff, it's not like I'm starving or don't have my own bed or whatever"

"Either way, it will be for the CPD to decide what's best for you, regardless of how you feel" he paused and then frowned again, this time unrelated to anger. "You're fourteen"

"I'm fifteen years old"

"No, you're not. You were fourteen just now"

"Time passes, that's how it works professor— ow!"He rubbed at his ear where the vampire had tugged, his cheeks growing warm in embarrassment at being treated like a child. "I am fifteen, my birthday was over the holidays…"

That gave the professor a pause.

"When?"

Marzan turned to walk back towards the dungeons, not truly wanting to answer. In four years he hadn't told anybody when exactly he had been born, not even the ministry. They did know that he must've been born over the winter according to the exams in St. Mungo, but he had pretended not to know and nobody had pressed him. His friends had asked as well but when he looked uncomfortable they never brought it up again and simply let it be… they likely thought his birthday was over the summer and that he was the same age as all of them, although in reality he was about a year older. He knew he had changed a lot ever since being reborn, but this aspect of his life remained much the same… he didn't want to celebrate or acknowledge the day, it wasn't something good or worth being happy over.

"I don't like celebrating it"

There was a single time in his entire existence that he had allowed it… truthfully, he had been in an excellent mood; the order wasn't able to resist his advances and day by day his following grew larger, he felt powerful, invincible. So, why not accept a quiet toast? Then there was— he was afraid, it had been one of the very few times that Voldemort was truly afraid, eyes blown wide and body completely frozen. When the door had opened after the commotion, Vasilyeva had shrieked upon seeing him kneeling in her husband's blood, but he couldn't remember any of her accusations, just the empty feeling and knowledge that he had lost the only person that had ever supported him, not only as Voldemort but as Tom Riddle. He had never told anybody else about his birthday again, and for the rest of his life Voldemort had been known to be extremely paranoid.

"Nonsense, every child likes celebrating their birthday"

"I'm not a child!" he replied, fully sounding like a child.

He was centuries old! Hundreds of millions of years old in fact, since he'd spent an eternity in the void! Granted, he had been mostly unaware of time passing there, but even if just counting his old and new life, he was over eighty years old. Although, to be completely fair, Elerhys was a good few centuries old at the least, everybody in the castle was a child in comparison… but still, not a child.

They turned towards the wall that gave access to the common room and Marzan froze standing there, staring into Death, who stood just before him. This was… it was the first time it did that, normally it stayed in the corner of his eye until he turned his head towards it. A tendril of darkness imitating a hand waved slowly. If his assumption was correct… he had little, very little time left. It seemed it was time to start making arrangements…

"…zan… Marzan?"

He blinked, Death remaining there instead of vanishing, and he turned his head to the professor.

"… I'm alright" he assured him, although he did not look convinced. "I guess I was just thinking and got lost"

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Should he write letters, he wondered, to leave to his friends? Or would that perhaps be too much since it would reveal that he had fully known he would die? Either way it would be best to organise his things accordingly to what he expected to leave to each of them. He should spare some time to visit Hogsmeade as well, buy a present for professors Staghart and Dracul, since they were so good to him these past years. He imagined his Gringotts vault would simply return to the ministry, given the little money in there had come from them anyways, and he hadn't left anything at home that Morfin could inherit… although he doubted his uncle cared at all. Ah, maybe he should buy a present for Ipatiy as well, they had proven to get along quite well.

Resolved to get his affairs in check as soon as possible, he woke up early the next weekend, dressed for the cold weather and gathered his scarce purse, as well as letting Rai lay beneath his scarf— it would be nice to spend time with him too… after he was gone, he was sure Abraxas would take excellent care of him.

«Where are we going, master?»

Marzan waved cordially to Codde, the caretaker, as he walked out of the castle gates.

«I have some shopping to do, and would be honoured if you helped me»

Rai let out a happy hiss as they boarded a carriage.

«Of course, master! What are we buying?»

«Well, what do you think professor Staghart would like?»

It was still early by the time they arrived, but the shops had already opened. Even though it was a small town, they had plenty of shops for the students, and a quite good variety of goods to see. And immediately upon stepping on the road and before he got to his shopping, his eyes drifted to the crystal window of a stationary shop, which displayed leather bound journals and a great variety of quills.

Ah, it had been quite a while since he last kept a journal… It wouldn't do him much good now, seeing as he risked a lot by writing down his memories and experiences, but perhaps if he wrote them in parseltongue, it would be alright? Besides, he could always enchant it so that only he could read it…

A few minutes later he walked out of the shop with a brand new journal and then paused in the middle of the street, frowning slightly.

«Did you feel that?»

«I did, master. It's coming from your sleeve»

Marzan pulled out his wand and watched as the usual bright green glow it displayed when he used it pulsed, almost like a heartbeat that he could feel in his fingertips where he touched it. However, it soon died down and nothing happened again. He rotated it and moved it, but it didn't repeat.

«That's strange… it also happened when Patya and I were in the caves, but I was quite sick and I thought it might be the cause…»

«Maybe it's broken?»

Marzan definitely hoped that was not the case.

«No, it would not work so well otherwise» and to demonstrate his point he waved it, making a simple spell to clear the snow off the stairs.

Perhaps he should keep a closer eye on it… if the issue continued, he would have to visit Ollivander's shop— ah. Well, that wouldn't be possible. Once he died it could be placed back in its case and preserved as a relic. Ah, he wished he had looked for the secret chambers of the castle while he still had time, it would've been nice to finally return his ancestor's wand to the resting place of his closest dearest friends.

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When the second task came, Marzan had started to feel exhausted, deep seated tiredness in his bones that had absolutely nothing to do with his physical wellbeing. This time they were taken down besides the lake where a huge arena had already been built, a place that made chills go down his spine as he knew all too well what it was… his silent wishes had gone unanswered, it seemed, and the third task should repeat. Taking a deep breath he forced his body to relax and followed the two older boys into the huge round platform that so far was empty and devoid of traps, as the second layer with all the mechanisms hadn't been added yet. Instead, three wide circles were marked in it, likely where they were meant to stand for whatever reason. The arena itself had plenty of space that wasn't full with all the population currently in the castle, but it had already been prepared for the final task when parents would come to espectate, as well as representatives from all missing great schools, and perhaps even people from the ministry and beyond. It would be a grand occasion, and still likely muddied with blood. A quarter of the stands didn't exist, instead leaving a big opening that gave a beautiful view of part of the lake, the mountains and the forbidden forest, and a sort of plaform where the cup would be placed and the champion crowned. As such, the arena was semi open and it allowed much more natural daylight to peer in.

This time, it was headmaster Savasin who addressed the eager crowd and the three champions once the arena was full.

"Welcome students, to the second task of the Triwizard Tournament!" the audience went wild with exclamations and applause, "You've all waited patiently, so let me explain this task to our champions! As you can see, there are three circles in this arena, one for each one of you; once you step inside, a barrier will be activated to hold you inside. This task, unlike the first that tested your cleverness and decision making, will test your ability with magic more directly by elemental trials. Air, earth, water, fire… defeat or subdue each element, and break the barrier by yourself! If you break the barrier beforehand, you shall receive a penalty in your final points. Of course, if you complete your trials faster, that will also contribute to your final points. Any questions?"

Elemental trials… sounded easy enough. Marzan didn't ask anything, and neither did Ipatiy or Maynard.

"Very well! If at any point you wish to stop this trial, please do let us know by sending red sparks into the air. Now, into each circle, if you will gentlemen"

He took a deep breath and turned towards the arena, walking steadily to the one the middle and closest to the open side of the stadium. Although he felt slightly nauseous, and he could almost see red mist hanging in the air like in his memory, he forced a charming smile onto his lips and waved towards the stands where the Hogwarts students sat, who all cheered enthusiastically. He looked away pretty soon, flashes of red and chunks of flesh in between broken wood coming to the front of his mind. It's not real, he tried to tell himself, it hasn't happened yet. But what sort of comfort was that? He could die before he even got to that third task, and then nobody would be any wiser about the fatal flaw in those traps, and then everything would blow up and so many would be dead and it would be his fault.

He wanted to throw up. Instead, he grabbed his wand firmly, and as Ipatiy and Maynard stepped into their own areas, the border of each circle lit up and a clear barrier lifted in a dome around them individually, just barely visible with a little blue tint. A loud cannon was set off and Marzan let out a breath… it was time.

At first he thought perhaps there was nothing, but the wind tousling his hair had picked up, and he noticed it was circling around the barrier slowly getting faster, like a tornado trapped in a glass jar, and he wasn't eager to find out just how bad it could get, and plus, he would be very glad to be done with the test soon. Instead of countering the winds to calm them down, he moved his wand silently and made the ground beneath his feet rise around him in a rough wall— the sudden change in an irregular terrain inevitably broke the winds apart and dispersed them, and with another wave of his wand the mounds of rock fell down.

Distantly he heard more cheering, but he was still nauseous… focusing on not bringing his breakfast back up, he tried to move to rest but the rocks and pebbles he had loosened started to shake and he was forced once again into high alert as they were pulled back at the opposite side of him, gathering in the shape of legs, a huge torso, and thick arms.

Was this— were they insane!? A golem!? They were extremely hard to make and extremely difficult to deal with, given they were unfairly fast for their size and weight, and that they could reform instantly if they were on the ground. In the old times when people still bothered to go through the trouble of making them, the easiest way to deal with them was just… not dealing with them at all. Running away, essentially. Tom did not have that option.

He rolled out of the way of a fist and decided that a show was not worth it. He was sluggish and exhausted, his magic was getting weaker by the day and the least spells he performed, the higher the chance of him getting out usncathed. And not only that, but those Merlin-damned memories would not leave him alone.

"Accio!" he called out, and the chest of the golem was forcefully pulled open as the creature roared, a small amber orb flying towards his hand. Well, they were indeed very sturdy, but the problem laid in the fact that they were powered solely by a single core. "Evanesco!"

The golem crumbled to pieces. Only way in the distance was he aware of the noise of the crowd and a voice narrating whatever was happening in the arena, although all of it was unintelligible to him, as if muddled by water. Water… Marzan blinked slowly, his body feeling more and more foreign, and by the time he looked down at his feet, the water had risen to nearly his knees.

«I'm so tired…» he mumbled to himself, fighting to keep his eyes open.

What was happening to him?

"Glacius maxima…"

The water turned colder and exploded outwards, frozen into solid ice. Another pause for him, but this time it was easier to notice the shift as the air inside the bubble became humid and the heat blasted nearly on his face, sending him falling backwards into the ice that was quickly becoming a puddle.

His vision blurred at the edges and when he finally got to focus, he saw… a lion? Ah. Fiendfyre. How to… how to deal with it? Well, it wasn't actually that hard to put out, it was just fire after all, and people were often under the mistaken assumption normal methods wouldn't work. The problem often laid in the fact that the longer it remained active, the bigger it grew and the harder it was to contain it, since it had enough of its own free will to follow targets and that could get out of hand quickly. If he shrank the barrier he could drown it out, but that would surely give him a penalty since he had to break out after putting out the fire, and he did not have the option of an aquamenti, as it was growing steadily and about to jump him.

Ah. Well. It's not like it made any difference at this point.

"Fiendfyre!"

Flames shot out of his own wand into the shape of a giant snake. The spell itself wasn't hard to cast, but it was hard to control and most of the idiots that would go down with it, simply were not prepared nor had the mental fortitude to control it… but Tom had performed the spell dozens upon dozens of times. Yes, the other way to deal with fiendfyre was simply to swallow it up with a bigger fire, and then put it out. Truly simple.

"Finite"

The fire dispersed and he repeated the finite, the bubble around him ripping to shreds that vanished in the air, and in the distance a trumpet went off.

His eyes felt so heavy… he would just… rest a bit…

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When he woke up, he was sitting in the hospital wing, and Madam Magnolis sat in front of him while professors Staghart, Dracul and Dippet stood anxiously by the bedside. He blinked slowly and took a moment to speak, still feeling as if he was in a body that was not his own, taking a back seat to a ride.

"What… what happened?"

Madam Magnolis sighed in relief and everyone else seemed to share the same sentiment.

"Thank Merlin! You gave us a scare, young man" she leaned forwards and examined his eyes. "You were out of it and wouldn't respond to anything, not even when you won first place!"

He frowned.

"I… I wasn't asleep?"

"Goodness, no. Was that how you felt?" now she looked even more worried.

Truth to be told, Marzan would rather not deal with people being worried for him anymore, but he was also starting to become aware that perhaps he was so irritated precisely as a symptom. He nodded.

"I was so tired, I just wanted to rest… I don't remember anything after the barrier came down"

She immediately pulled out her wand and performed her diagnostic spells, but as she did his eyelids still felt heavy and professor Dracul had to move closer to shake him by his shoulder and prevent him from falling asleep. So far he couldn't even bring himself to move his arms or even his fingers, even though he was fully aware of them through the feeling of the cotton sheets and the cold air of the hospital wing.

"This is a very light case of magical exhaustion" she finally declared, but that didn't bring her any satisfaction "Very concerning indeed— Mr. Gaunt only performed a handful of spells, none of which are particularly draining for the size of his magical core. And with the treatment he has been receiving, he should be brimming with energy instead"

Headmaster Dipped stroked his beard.

"I think perhaps it is time we ask the Child Protection Department if it would be wiser to transfer Mr. Gaunt to St. Mungo, or at least if a specialised healer should examine him"

Masam Magnolis nodded, but it had all started to become distant to Marzan's ears as his eyes drooped closed.

"Yes, I believe he shouldn't compete anymore, he isn't in a good enough condition to do so…"

He passed out for a second time before he even heard his name being called out to keep him awake.

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When he woke up for the second time, he felt just fine. Better than he had the entire year in fact, like his mind was clear and his body so light and fresh. He had almost never felt better, in fact! Yawning, he looked around his bed to find that he was back at St. Mungo's, in a sterile white room with nothing of particular importance to it, but at least it was an individual room… His clothes had been changed for a pair of white shirt and pants, and none of his things were in that room except for his wand, which rested in the bedside table, and his locket which was set around his neck still as he would find out when he pat his chest. There was also a jug of water and a clear cup next to him on the bedside table so he felt free to serve himself a glass and drank it all up while he waited all alone in there. As it turned out, it wasn't a long wait.

The door opened and a nurse looked surprise to see him sitting and with the glass in hand, but she then smiled.

"Ah, what good news to see you awake! I shall notify the doctor, give me a moment"

She hurried off again and he finished his drink, putting it back on the table right when she returned with the doctor, a woman with strawberry blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and professor Staghart who looked immensely relieved to see him, and who made his way to his side to observe him closely, although he refrained from fussing too much this time.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Two days" his professor answered, rubbing his arm. "You were transferred here immediately"

"A very good decision that the school made" the doctor nodded in approval, approaching the other side of the bed. "My name is Aurelia Evergreen, you've been under my care these past two days. How are you feeling, Mr. Gaunt?"

He didn't mind the diagnostic spells, he was already more than used to them by now.

"Thank you for your care, doctor. I feel just fine… actually, more than just fine"

"That's a relief to hear, this means the treatment has worked correctly" Doctor Evergreen tucked her wand back into her white coat. "Madam Magnolis made a fantastic job of treating the wound in your core, but we found that the dosage of your medication was a bit unbalanced. After some readjustments to it, you should be all set to recover fully, although if you feel bothered by it again, I recommend visiting the hospital"

Marzan let out a short breath. That was it? So, they reduced the amount of poison and he had regained a bit more time to finish the year instead of slowly falling into a permanent slumber. It was a little improvement, but he wasn't about to complain if it worked in his favour.

"I see, thank you very much"

She smiled and nodded.

"No need for thank yous, I've been more than happy to help. If you excuse me…"

She closed the door softly behind herself and Marzan finally saw himself being coddled by his favourite professor, who hugged him tightly against his chest. Hiding a smile into the blue robe, he also wrapped his arms around him, allowing himself to be a little softer.

"Everyone worried, didn't they?"

He received a light tap on top of his head.

"Of course they did, you silly child. Rhys and Azure have had to escort nearly all of Slytherin to and from school to visit you every day. The other two champions have also come to see you, and your professors as well"

Iraia finally pulled back and brushed his hair into order, squeezing his cheeks momentarily as he held his face.

"You have to stop giving me so many scares"

"I'm sorry" he apologised genuinely, a light heat settling on his cheeks. "I thought maybe I was just very nervous because of the task"

And that wasn't entirely a lie… he had been very wrecked by it, standing in that place that brought forth so many awful memories, and had gotten way too distracted to notice he was slowly getting drained.

"That's alright, you'll be all good from now on" Iraia's hopeful face and his gentle words made his heart ache. "You likely will never even visit this hospital again"

And oh, he wanted to believe him so badly, to have just as much hope for the future. The aching became real, physical over his chest and his eyes tingled as his eyelashes became wet and he tried not to cry, but he couldn't help it as the tears all burst out and soon they were a constant trickle down his cheeks.

"What's wrong? Oh dear…"

Iraia's soft question only worked for a sob to make its way out of his throat and he was then pulled back into his arms as long slender fingers brushed through his hair and a warm hand rubbed his back. He had never felt so utterly hopeless and desperate before, and for once he couldn't actually care that he was behaving like a child. He had thought he was ready, that he had already confronted every single possibility and consequence that would come after his demise, and yet he… he wasn't. As time passed he became more and more reluctant and both mind and heart clung to his life even harder, clawing at all the available options and wild ideas that could maybe work.

"It's ok" he was consoled, although he could feel nothing but numbing pain "Everything is going to be just fine"

But it wasn't… it wasn't and he was afraid… He was terrified and lonely, and he had nobody to confide in.

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* Golems come from jewish culture but I do not know enough to fully explain it. The creature I've inserted in this chapter is definitely not an accurate reflection of said culture— I'm quite sure I've based myself upon some sort of fantasy twist on it that I read somewhere, although the where exactly escapes me. Normally they were said to be made of clay or mud, so this one is really not very golem like. If this reference results upsetting, please do feel free to reach out.

* The mechanisms of how fiendfyre works are also made up. In this case, the real complicated element of the spell is maintaining enough concentration to keep it under one's control, but that's about it. Since the fire grows the more it consumes, it would come to no surprise that it eventually grows out of hand.

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This task has been pretty short and uneventful… but the third shall not be! For now, it has been undoubtedly funny to subject Marzan/Tom to all these situations.

This poor silly boy still has no idea about his PTSD, clearly.

I also needed to make him cry, and I would apologise for it but… look at him! Such a pretty face needs to be bullied.

I shall (hopefully) see you again soon.