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"That’s vile," Hermione exclaimed. "How awful! We have to fight this war and win it quickly, then." |
Tom nodded emphatically. "I agree completely. But Hermione... you should not fight." Her eyes narrowed at that, and he continued uneasily. "Severus said that you should keep to your bed for the next two days—" |
"Rubbish! Perhaps I should not try to Apparate—I don’t know that I could, right now—but I can walk if I need to." |
"Hermione, please, let him examine you first," Tom said. "I don’t want you to injure yourself irreparably, trying to do something that you shouldn’t yet. Please." His dark eyes were wide with feeling. |
Hermione was taken aback at this. He really was worried about her, she realized. She met his gaze with hers and nodded. |
Encouraged, he continued. "But the bigger problem for you is that he said you will have to take two potions every day for the next six months, possibly longer. We should not attempt to conceive a child during that time, because of the potions, and he also said that you’ll be weary and—and more sluggish than usual. It wouldn’t be safe for you to fight in that condition." |
She scowled across the length of the bed. "I certainly will take it up with him. I have to be in the war—especially if I have no unborn child to protect! That idea would be shocking to me if I were a Muggle woman, of course, but I’m a witch, I’m part of this family, and that loathsome man cursed your mother. And my parents...." She broke off, the righteous anger suddenly disappearing as the words failed her. Her shift in moods happened very quickly, and Tom could barely manage to get on the bed to lie beside her before the tears started trickling from the corners of her eyes. |
He held her close, which unfortunately only seemed to shatter the dam that was holding back the flood. She shook in his arms, clinging as tightly as she could, the grip of her fingers almost painful. She lay her head down on his shoulder and continued to tremble as she wept. |
It had been a much worse day for her than for him, he realized, keeping her close in his embrace. Between the tragedy of Castle Grange and the shocking events at Parselhall—being plunged immediately into a fight to the death—and now awakening to find that her foster mother, her mother-in-law, was in a deathly sleep until the end of the war... well, it was enough to make anyone sob and tremble. |
How many more tears will be shed? he thought bleakly. Two years ago, I thought I wanted this war. What a fool I was. This is what wars really mean. This is what I imagined I looked forward to. Hermione has lost the family of her blood. |
...But she won’t lose me. His resolve stiffened as he kissed the top of her head. |
Severus returned to Tom and Hermione’s bedroom shortly, cradling both of his children. His face was drawn and lined, as if he had aged ten years that day. |
"I see that you are awake, Lady Hermione," he said. "That is good." |
She did not attempt to tell him that he could use her given name without the honorific, as he had done most of the time since they had become family. Obviously, everyone was stressed and upset. |
"Regulus and Andromeda have secured their castle. Their daughter is with them now. Needless to say, all of our enemies will know now that they are allied with us, after that. They were also at your wedding... and their parents." |
Hermione looked up in alarm. |
"If anyone knows how to protect a fortress, it’s the Black family," Severus assured her. "Castle Black, their ancestral home in the north of England, has always been impregnable. It’s why Malfoy had to draw out Lord Arcturus to kill him. Our allies are fine. And I beg your pardon, Regent, but I notified our five other allied families of what has happened so that they can protect themselves and prepare." |
Both Hermione and Tom detected the faint hint of sarcasm and annoyance in his words, but they did not comment. Tom nodded. "Good. You could have interrupted me to ask, of course—I was just staying beside her with a book, because I wanted to be here when she awakened—but I don’t mind that you did it alone. They needed to know." |
"They know now. As for our other allies... I am concerned about Sirius Black’s family. I just now sent the werewolf Lupin to get his wife, stepdaughter, and godson out of that cottage. They are sitting targets. He has not returned from Castle Grange—" |
Hermione gasped in horror. |
"Oh, not that!" he exclaimed at once. "He sent a message to me by owl saying that he has to "investigate further’ because someone had already put up magical wards on the castle, and he cannot understand how the news of the attack could have got out immediately." |
Tom shared a quick glance with Hermione, then gazed out at Snape, a studying look on his face. "You know more than you’re telling, Severus." |
Severus scowled. "I know nothing more than that." |
"You suspect, then." |
"I suspect, and so do you, obviously, but we should wait for him to return with the facts. Idle speculations serve little purpose. As for Black’s family... I would like to ask your permission to house them here." |
Tom and Hermione exchanged another glance. "Mistress Black, her daughter with her first husband, and Potter?" He scowled at the idea of Harry Potter living under his roof, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. He and Hermione were married now, and she was devoted to him. Even during their estrangement, she had been faithful. Besides, Potter was not some cocky fool using Gryffindor-type delusions of heroism and romanticism to justify such a selfish, dangerous, dishonorable act as pursuing his host’s lady wife. Hermione is not Guinevere, I am not Arthur, and Potter is not Lancelot, he assured himself. Arthur was my ancestor, but we are all better than that lot. Potter had certainly fancied Hermione once, when they were all four years younger, but those days were gone. He had a girl now, too. |
"They may come here," he said. "There is plenty of room in the guest wing." He released Hermione’s hand and rose from the bed. "Severus, I have been inaccessible this evening, I know—but now that she is awake, I mean to take on my responsibilities as Regent of Hangleton. You need not make any additional arrangements." He gazed hard at Severus’s face. Yes, he supposed that this was his fault—these things had needed to be done, since Malfoy and his supporters were attempting one massacre after another, and he had been confined in this room with Hermione—but Severus could have come to him to discuss any of these matters with him anyway. He had to exercise his authority now or he would essentially lose it. The allies would regard Severus as the person with whom to confer. |
Severus returned the gaze, understanding the subtext perfectly well. In truth, he was a little annoyed at having to have done all these things today while the lord of the castle was shut up in his bedroom. He understood Tom’s motive for staying there—to be with Hermione when she woke up—but Tom was hardly the only wizard in this castle whose wife was cursed. Indeed, for all Severus knew—and feared—he would never talk to Merope again in life. The war could easily claim him first. Tom was fortunate, in that regard. He still had his wife, whereas Severus was almost a widower in one sense. If Tom wanted to take on his proper duties, it was as it should be. |
Severus reflected momentarily on the fact that Tom had not even alluded to the possibility that they might die before Merope awakened. Had he simply blocked out that thought from his mind because it was so terrible? Or was there another reason? Severus suspected that he knew what Tom intended, and perhaps that was the real reason.... |
"I’m glad," Severus finally said. "Your mother named you as regent, just as you are her heir. It is your responsibility... and frankly, Tom, I need some time with my family now, if you please." |
In bed, Hermione’s face wilted in abashment. "Of course!" she exclaimed. "Of course. We’ve been so selfish...." |
Severus had not aimed his words at her, and he tried to clarify that. "You have been in a magical sleep, Hermione." |
That statement sent her thoughts in a different direction. "Oh, yes, that reminds me. Severus," she said, her words and gaze hard, "Tom tells me that I am not supposed to leave my bed for two days. I think that’s rubbish. I don’t feel great right now, but I think I would be perfectly capable of walking tomorrow." |
Severus frowned and strode back to the bed. Setting down the babies on the mattress, he drew his wand and performed diagnostic spells on Hermione. "It’s possible that you will be able to walk tomorrow," he acknowledged. "You are recovering quickly. It must be that you’re determined to get well—" |
"If you can stand on your feet tomorrow and walk from the bed to the door without stumbling—unassisted," he said, giving Tom a pointed look, "then it means it’s safe for you. I just don’t want you to injure yourself again, Hermione. The healing process, even the immediate stage of it, takes time—even with magic to help it along." |
Hermione nodded. "I understand." |
Severus picked up the twins and shifted one to each arm. "Then I would advise you, Tom, to notify Lupin that Sirius Black’s family may come here. After that... you will need to decide what to do about Amycus Carrow." |
Hermione gave Tom an inquiring look. "I captured him," he said, quickly nodding at Severus his permission to leave. "He is in the dungeons." His eyes narrowed. "I already know what I’m going to do about him. He has a great deal of information. I could get it through Legilimency, but justice is also an issue in this case. The only question is whether you would like to have a go at him too. If you would, it can wait a few days." |
She blanched. "I... really don’t want any part of that, Tom." |
"Are you sure?" |
"Yes, I’m sure. When that ugly business with Adelaide Lestrange occurred, I cornered her in a room—the very room that the abortion occurred, in fact, and yes, I picked it for that reason," she said, as his eyes widened in surprise and dark admiration. "And I... punished her. It made me feel dark and empty." |
"This is different. Carrow tried to kill you. He tortured me at Hogwarts, too." |
"I’m sure you are more than capable of avenging both of us. I don’t want to torture. I just want to kill our enemies, quite frankly. I just want to fight in this war and win." She shuddered. "I’m afraid that we won’t—that we can’t." |
Tom climbed back on the bed and cradled her in his arms. He was not at all sure how she would take what he was about to tell her, but it was better to let her know than to surprise her later. He leaned over next to her ear. As he murmured in a low voice, barely above a whisper, what he intended, Hermione’s eyes grew wide. He drew back, gazing somewhat sadly at her. |
Her eyelids fluttered shut for a second, then opened again. Her gaze was cynical, resigned, and yet determined. "Take care if you do, Tom. That’s exceedingly dangerous." |
He rose from the bed. "At this point, it’s more dangerous not to, I think." Picking up his wand, his book, the locket of Slytherin, and his dark green cloak, he gave her a final potent gaze before leaving the room to head to the dungeons. |
Amycus Carrow had emerged from his spell-induced state of unconsciousness when Tom opened the heavy, warded, metal door to his cell. He regarded the prisoner, who was chained and sourly awaiting his captors. Carrow forked Tom the evil eye as he entered the cell. Defiantly he spat on the cold stone floor. |
Tom ignored this. Smiling maliciously, he turned to Carrow. "The tables are turned," he remarked, fingering his wand deliberately. "Now you are the one locked in a cell, wandless, at my mercy." He paused. "How much mercy I show you depends on how cooperative you are. Your life is already forfeit, of course. My mother pronounced your death sentence for treason two and a half years ago. You tortured me and attempted to kill my wife. However, you might have a... somewhat... clean death under the right circumstances." He gazed out at Carrow as a cat would gaze at a mouse it had cornered. |
Carrow sneered back. "The tables will never be fully turned, because you are a half-blood and a traitor to the high lord of wizards in Britain. I will never be either." |
"You will never be a half-blood, it’s true... but I rather think that you will tell me everything I demand to know." Tom continued to smile a cold, mirthless smile at the prisoner. |
"I’ll do no such thing." |
Tom flicked his wand. Carrow flinched in his chains, sucking in his breath, attempting to avoid screaming in pain. The manacles dug into his wrists as he pulled. |
Tom lifted the curse and gazed at him. Carrow was breathing heavily, and a bead of sweat had appeared on his forehead. "That’s just a taste," he remarked. "You can ponder these questions, if you like, when I do it again. First... what do you know of Malfoy and Lestrange’s war plans?" |
"I’ll... never... tell," he panted. |
Tom chuckled. "Second, what else did Pettigrew tell you about Parselhall? Are there any other weaknesses?" |
Carrow sneered back wordlessly. |
"Third, what is Armand Malfoy’s Horcrux, if you know?" He paused, regarding Carrow with deliberate contempt. "Of course, you may not know. You may be too unimportant to be told such a thing." |
Carrow’s eyes widened in surprise. Tom instantly used Legilimency to enter his mind, and he realized—to his dismay—that this really was a shock to Carrow. He didn’t know. |
"All right, I see that indeed you were too insignificant to know about that. More’s the pity; that would have cut your "interrogation’ time in half," he said mercilessly. "Alternately, what can you tell me about weaknesses or passwords for Castle l’Etrange?" |
"You dare ask me to betray my liege?" |
"My mother is your rightful liege!" Tom snarled, sending a curse at Carrow. He doubled over, blood dripping from his face, his nostrils slit. |
Tom observed dispassionately as Carrow spat and choked on his own blood. It would have bothered him to observe this happen to anyone except an enemy—and he realized, now, what Hermione had meant. Someone like Adelaide Lestrange did not count for this purpose. Draco Malfoy did not count. Even Pettigrew himself would not have counted, Tom realized. But Carrow had put him under his wand, had tortured him for something he had not done, would have killed him that day if he had been permitted to, and had attempted to kill Hermione. |
Carrow spat a stream of red saliva to the floor. He attempted to seal the wounds by natural means, with physical pressure. "Pettigrew said... the entrance from his manor was the only one he knew about." |
Tom regarded Carrow with minor satisfaction. So he would talk under duress. This was the least "treasonous"—to Lestrange and Malfoy—question he could have answered, but he would talk if he thought that Tom would cut his suffering short. Tom studied him, meeting his gaze and checking the statement with Legilimency. It was true. |
"That’s a start," he said loftily. He drew his wand and pointed it at the prisoner. "What of the war plans of Malfoy and Lestrange, and what about Castle l’Etrange?" |
"You said you would heal this—" |
Tom shook his head, smirking in cruel delight. "No, I did not." |
"Then you can fuck yourself." |
"All right." Tom swished his wand. Carrow gasped and doubled over again as waves of invisible pain shot across his body. The flow of blood from his nose increased as he bent his head in pain from the Cruciatus. |
As the seconds elapsed, Carrow suddenly went limp. He stopped straining against the curse and instead collapsed, his arms confined only by the manacles around his wrists. He hung limply from the chains, thrashing uncontrollably. |
Abruptly Tom lifted the curse. He knew that this spell, if maintained for too long, could cause irreparable brain damage. It would not do for him to destroy Carrow in this way before he had learned everything the man could tell him. Reluctantly he cast a spell to seal the wounds on Carrow’s nostrils and another to clean off the blood from his face. |
Carrow remained limp and listless as Tom strode forward. He grabbed a handful of Carrow’s hair and pulled his head back to allow himself to have a look at Carrow’s eyes. |
A tired, yet furious, pair of eyes met his own. Tom could tell that Carrow’s mental resistance was down from the Cruciatus, so he did not hesitate. He entered Carrow’s mind and instantly began to parse the surface thoughts for the information he sought. |
The war plans of Malfoy and Lestrange.... |
Carrow jerked away, breaking eye contact, and spat a thick, bloody mess at Tom, narrowly missing Tom’s robes. |
Tom was incensed now. He drew back and cast another cutting curse with a circular sweep of his wand. Carrow screamed like a little boy as a ring of blood appeared around his right eye. The spell cut deeper. He strained, trying to cover it, as if that would stop the magic. |
"This will carve your eye out of its socket if you don’t talk," Tom said coldly. "And don’t think for one second that I will get squeamish and pull back." |
Carrow gritted his teeth as blood poured from his face once again. Finally, when the curse had cut through the outer layer of skin, he burst out, "Lestrange is going to attack Cygnus and Druella Black!" |
Tom halted the curse. He regarded Carrow with satisfaction. "That’s it?" |
Carrow blinked away blood. |
"Shall I—" Tom started to swirl his wand in a circle again. |
"There’s... a secret way into Castle Draconis. He thinks Bellatrix and Adelaide are there. Malfoy means to go there and demand that Lucius turn them over." |
Tom considered that. Castle Draconis used to be the home of Godric Gryffindor, before Armand Malfoy and his supporters—the parents or grandparents of his current generation of supporters—stormed the place. Gryffindor had welcomed the Normans to England, pleased to have a new magical culture represented, and they had returned the favor by killing him in his own home. It served him right, in a way, Tom thought as he recalled the old story. |
But should the Riddles and their allies attempt to save Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy? Let alone Bellatrix and Adelaide Lestrange? Adelaide doesn’t deserve to be murdered by her own father, he thought, and Hermione thinks that we should try to ally with the Malfoys of Godric’s Hollow. I suppose it’s worth considering a rescue. |
"When?" Tom demanded of Carrow. |
"I don’t know." |
Tom could tell that he really didn’t. Scowling, he pressed his question again. "And that’s it? What about their plans for my family?" He raised his wand threateningly. |
"His high lordship intends to kill you lot in battle. He knows that you have been itching for this war." |
Tom smirked. "So he really doesn’t know of any other way into Parselhall. So much the better. I regret to inform you, Carrow, that you will be the reason "his high lordship’ will fail to do that." |
Carrow glared at Tom, not comprehending Tom’s true meaning, assuming that Tom was referring to the information that he was giving now. |
"And Castle l’Etrange?" |
"I’ll never tell you that." |
"Oh, I think you will." Tom swished his wand in a slightly different shape, and Carrow screamed again as a curse shredded his ears from the outer edge of the shell inward. Blood began to pool on the floor; Carrow’s shoulders and torso were already soaked and spotted. |
Tom had read about the curses that he was using, of course, but he had never used them until now. Despite his bold words to Carrow, he had not been entirely sure that he could have carved out the man’s eye if Carrow had refused to talk... and watching this happen to his ears was actually very disturbing. Tom wanted to look away. He was certain that the image of shredded, bloody, flayed cartilage would be burned into his memory for the rest of his life.... |
"There’s a series of passwords," Carrow gasped out. |
Tom stopped the curse and cast a basic healing spell. Carrow’s ears were basically stubs now, but at least they were not bleeding anymore. Tom suddenly felt merciful—or perhaps it was the appalling curse he had just cast. He had been so sure he could do it, but he felt vaguely disgusted with himself for using it now, even on Carrow. I’ll get the rest of it myself, he thought, gazing into Carrow’s eyes. |
Yes, there was a series of passwords to Lestrange’s castle. Evidently the man had not desired to protect it with a blood ward, most likely because of the possibility of an illegitimate line of Lestranges who would be able to get in through a blood ward. Tom scowled as he examined the passwords—they were all in Norman French, and he hated the thought of speaking that tongue, but so it must be. There is something to be said for using his own language against him, Tom thought. |
He withdrew from Carrow’s mind and gazed upon him with an expressionless face. "I guess that concludes your interrogation," he said, "unless there is anything else you wish to confess." |
Carrow realized that the end of his life had come. His eyes widened in fear, but also defiance. There was something else he could tell, but it was not something Riddle had asked about. It was not something he himself was supposed to know, either. He was pretty sure that Lestrange did not even know this, that only Armand Malfoy did. He would keep this to himself, then, one last thing to hold to as he faced death. Let Malfoy himself surprise Riddle with it someday. Carrow was quite certain that the high lord would at the most opportune moment. "No. There’s nothing." |
"Very well. Any last words?" |
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