text stringlengths 0 57.5k |
|---|
In the span of five seconds, Carrow debated whether it would be worth it to risk a horrible, painful death by insulting Riddle. He quickly concluded that it was not. Lestrange and Malfoy would not undergo torture for me, he suddenly realized—and with that, a wave of—not exactly remorse; his hatred of the Gaunt family for Morfin’s attempted rape of himself and his sister was far too severe for that—but regret, perhaps, regret for a rejected opportunity, passed over him. Would Lady Merope have been a better liege than Lestrange? Her son was certainly cruel just like the rest of the line... but so was Lestrange himself. |
"None for you. I’ll keep them to myself." |
Tom glared. It wasn’t as though he cared to hear anything this man had to say, but it was clear to him that this was Carrow’s final defiance. "As you wish." He raised his wand and brought it down in a series of three slashes. "Avada Kedavra." |
The vivid green light struck him, and Carrow slumped in his chains, dead. |
Tom breathed heavily, his eyes closing of their own accord. He needed to gather his strength. He needed to banish that awful image of Carrow’s bleeding ears, nose, and eye socket from his memories—but that, he realized, was impossible. It was one of those memories—often shocking, violent memories—that never faded. He could try a Memory Charm on himself, but that was very risky. He could easily get rid of more than he wanted. |
Focus, he chastised himself, forcing himself to breathe steadily. Focus. Calm yourself. |
In a bit, he opened his eyes. He took another deep breath and brought the item of jewelry out of his belt purse. "Open," he hissed at it in Parseltongue. With a cold, final click, the locket snapped open. |
Tom gazed up at the ceiling wearily. It’s necessary, he thought. I have no real choice. Sighing, he began the dark ritual that he had read about years ago. |
About ten minutes later, Tom coughed for the last time. Deep red drops hit the stone floor, but they were very tiny now, little more than a spray. He winced at the splotch of blood—his own—on the stone floor. He had coughed it up several times ever since completing the ritual. His mouth tasted of copper and iron, and his head was simultaneously light and heavy. |
He got himself off the dungeon floor, reaching for the gold chain of the locket, and shivered, a bone-shaking shudder that lasted much longer than it ought. He felt horribly cold, a cold that penetrated far past his skin. It went to his bone—no—it went to his very soul. |
Such as it was. |
He gazed at the locket, feeling sick. |
Am I ever going to be warm again? he thought unhappily. The book said nothing about this. It certainly worked—my eyes blink now in those windows, and I can feel it whispering to me—but my God. This is horrible. I feel as if I will never experience warmth again. |
He gazed about the cell. What a grim site this was, he thought. Carrow’s blood was still splattered everywhere, and the man’s body dangled lifelessly in chains. Tom would have to take care of that; it wasn’t fair to push it off on the house-elves. |
Well, that was at least a task on which to focus. With the bone-chilling cold continuing to permeate his entire body, he released the corpse from its chains and began to clean up the cell. |
Tom dropped Carrow’s body in the shallow grave next to that of Rowle and Fenrir Greyback. Shuddering, he pulled his cloak tightly around himself. Despite the very late hour, it was a mild summer night, but he still felt chilled to the core. Worse, the humidity of summer made it a clammy, sick cold. |
I need to get back to Hermione, he thought. The image of Hermione in bed, waiting for him, her eyes softening as he entered the room, filled his mind—and with that, a flood of warmth spread outward from his heart, infusing him with renewed strength. |
I cannot attempt reunification, Tom thought as he entered the castle and passed through the corridors. For a moment he half expected to meet Peter Pettigrew scurrying around, his beady gaze flickering, his hands wringing—but no, he would never see that again, he recalled. Sighing heavily, he returned to his thoughts. I cannot attempt to reverse this until I am truly ready to die. The book warned that it often kills people, and I’m utterly certain that it will kill me. I think the reason I felt so cold is that I did not truly want to do this for its own sake. I wanted to do it as a means to an end. It will kill me if I attempt to undo it—and—Tom suddenly remembered something. The green potion he had drunk had brought out the worst memories of his life and had made him feel bad about them. |
That is a way to reverse this, he thought, and I cannot use it. I cannot drink that potion again until the end of my life. As he ascended the stairs that led to the floor containing his bedchamber, he remembered what his mother had told him about Princess Ceridwyn, his ancestor. She drank that potion too before she placed the athame of Morgana in the basin. She drank of it... but she still became tyrannical, unjust, and cruel later. I cannot allow that to happen, and I cannot depend on the potion as a way to resolve my own problems in the future. |
He was now facing his bedroom door. He took a deep breath, pushed it open, and entered the room. |
Hermione was in bed, reading a book. She looked up at him as he came in. Her eyes widened. Tom wondered for a moment what he looked like to produce that response. He gazed at his reflection in the small mirror that hung in front of the wash basin. He was a bit paler than before... a bit haggard-looking, but that would pass by the morning. |
His eyes, however, glinted red. |
He turned to face her again. As he did, he noticed out the corner of one eye that the gleam in that eye turned white when he focused on her. |
He shed his cloak, shoes, and outer robe. He did not attempt to take off any other clothes, suddenly feeling utterly exhausted. Taking the locket off his neck, he stumbled over to the bed, collapsed on it, rolled on one side, and pressed himself against Hermione. A sob escaped him. |
She set her book aside and stroked his hair compassionately. Gently she pulled the locket out of his hands, ran a single finger over it as if it were the most precious object on earth, and sighed heavily as she curled against him. She did not let go of the locket all night. |
The next morning dawned far too early. Tom groaned as he awakened. His dreams had been dark and disturbing, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered everything that had happened the previous day. He sat upright in bed, wrapping his arms around his bent knees, and placed his head between them to block out the daylight for just a little longer. |
Hermione stroked his back. "Tom," she finally said. "I think I am able to walk safely." |
Tom lifted his head and looked into her eyes. He actually managed a smile. "That’s wonderful," he said. "Do you want to test it now?" |
She picked up the locket and placed it around her neck solemnly. "I believe I will." She turned to one side, swung her legs over the edge of the mattress, and uneasily got to her feet. Tom watched as she took several steps. She was careful, not attempting to do too much, but she was also not struggling at what she did attempt. His forced smile became a genuine one when she turned around to look at him, grinning from one ear to the other. |
This is why I did that, he thought, getting out of bed and joining her. It’s to protect her. The chill, he noted, was not discernible when he was thinking about her. Perhaps it wouldn’t be as long as he thought about someone he loved. |
After they washed and dressed themselves in fresh clothes, they drew close and embraced. Hermione could tell that Tom needed to be close to her after what he had just done, and she freely acknowledged to herself that she needed him too. Other than Severus, he was all she had now in terms of family—at least true family. Her cousin had cast her off. And Severus had a family of his own that naturally would come first for him. |
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked Tom in a low voice. |
He shuddered. "Someday, perhaps. For now, let it suffice to say that I got some useful information from Carrow, which I will gladly share with everyone at breakfast, and I did not torture him to death. In the end, I used the Killing Curse." He touched the locket that dangled from her neck. "I know that you have read the same book I have, because I...." |
"Gave it to me to read that one day," she said wryly. "I remember." |
"Well... you probably also remember that it spoke of possession. That won’t happen to you, because it already knows you and... feels the same about you as I do. No part of me would knowingly hurt you ever again." He gazed ahead, feeling unhappy once more. |
She squeezed his hand wordlessly. He managed a weak smile for her in return. They linked their arms together as they left the room. |
Severus came to the table a few minutes after Tom and Hermione were seated. He carried the twins with him in a basket. "Good news," he said abruptly, setting them down very close to his chair. "The werewolf found a witch in Godric’s Hollow who can nurse them. She has a child of her own, but she will be glad of the task." His words were bitter; it was clear to Tom and Hermione that he wished Merope could nurse her own children. "In addition, he brought Marlene Black, her daughter Cassandra, and Harry Potter." |
Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise. "Harry is here?" |
"They arrived very late last night. They are having their breakfast in the large dining hall, of course, not here with us. I think you and Tom were already asleep... and I perfectly understand the reasons." He gave Tom a knowing glance. |
Tom scowled back. "I still should have been there to welcome them. I am the Regent of Hangleton." |
"There was no formal welcome," Severus said. "You still have that chance today. For that matter, Black himself is supposed to return soon, hopefully with news about Castle Grange." |
"I have some very important news to share, myself," Tom spoke up. "Before I... carried out the sentence on Carrow... I questioned him for information about any other weaknesses of Parselhall, Malfoy and Lestrange’s war plans, how to get into Castle l’Etrange... and... whether he knew what Armand Malfoy’s Horcrux was." He glanced down at his lap, not really wanting to say it now. Hermione put a hand over his and squeezed. |
"And?" Severus pressed. |
He looked up. "He didn’t know about—that last. But he did have answers to my other questions." Tom explained to Severus and Hermione what Carrow had told him. Their eyes grew wider with every sentence. When he repeated the words that Lestrange had put up as the way to get into his castle, Hermione frowned. |
"What’s the matter?" he asked. |
"Tom," she said, feeling bad for what she was about to say, "obviously, those were indeed the passwords yesterday. But Lestrange knows that you captured Carrow. Unless he is an utter fool, he’ll change them." |
Tom’s face fell, but in the next moment, it hardened in resolve. "He is a fool, and since Armand Malfoy has him waiting on him instead of ruling his own fief, he may not have the chance to think of it. Still, we should attack him sooner rather than later. Now is the time to retrieve the basilisk of Slytherin. It may be difficult very soon." |
"I agree," Severus said. |
"I should also send my official request for aid to the five allied families," he said, "and I suppose I should also contact Cygnus and Druella Black to warn them that Lestrange means to attack them." He gazed at Hermione. "And the Malfoys of Godric’s Hollow, as you suggested." |
Hermione smiled in acknowledgment and then turned to Severus. "And now, I have a question for you." |
Severus stiffened. It seemed that he knew what the subject of her question likely was. |
"Tom tells me that I will have to take potions every day for six months and that I will be too sluggish and tired to exert myself." She gave him a hard gaze. "You must understand, I do not accept this. I mean to fight in this war." |
Severus looked pained. "Hermione, it is not a good idea. Certainly, you have recovered enough to walk more quickly than I expected, but you will still not recover your full vigor for many months." |
"You do not know that," she protested. |
Tom turned to her. "He’s right," he said abruptly. "If you went into battle, you would be an easy target. Even though Carrow is dead, everyone saw him curse you. They will know what it was and they will know that you are not at your best." |
"It is not right that I should stay here while others fight." Her words were determined. |
Tom took her hands and pleaded with her with his eyes. "Hermione, you could die! They targeted witches in the raid yesterday! They targeted Mother with that vile Norman curse, and they targeted you for death! I can’t... it can’t happen," he finished, his voice suddenly becoming barely more than a whisper. "I can’t lose you." |
Severus seemed to understand that this was about to become a very personal discussion. He picked up the basket with the babies and excused himself from the room, closing the door behind him. |
He got up and paced around the table before stopping in front of her chair. "What I just did... I did it because I did not want to leave you alone. Please don’t do it to me. I can’t lose you, Hermione," Tom repeated. |
"You won’t," Hermione said, rising to her feet. "I could...." She paused for a moment, gathering her nerve. "I could do it too, if it comes to it." |
Tom’s eyes popped open. "No!" he shouted. "Absolutely not! You don’t know what you are saying. You don’t know what it’s like. I would not have you go through that... and I won’t have you risk your life in battle either, when you should stay here instead to get well." He thought for a moment before adding, "As Regent of Hangleton, I forbid it." His gaze was hard. |
Smack! Tom gasped and put a hand instinctively to his cheek, which was now very hot indeed. He stared at her in shock. |
"How dare you!" Hermione exclaimed hotly. "You dare to tell me that I’m not allowed to fight, while you prepare to go to war partly to fight for witches? You dare?" |
He stared desperately at her, his cheek reddening. As she noticed the pink handprint, her face fell. "I’m sorry," she said, drawing close to him, taking out her wand to try to heal him. "I shouldn’t have done that." Tears formed in her eyes. "We should not be fighting with each other. We’ve both suffered; we are under so much tension, and we shouldn’t do this." She looked at him, silently pleading for forgiveness for slapping him. He managed a quick nod. "But Tom... you have to understand. I simply can’t wait here while wizards fight over what becomes of me... and people like me. This is my fight. My introduction to the wizarding nobility is what started everything." |
He continued to stare at her, trying to see it from her perspective. He understood her reasoning, and yet.... "Hermione, I am terrified for your life if you go into battle again. It isn’t really because of anything Severus said, and it certainly is not because I lack confidence in you. I just know that they will target you... and even if there were any more prisoners here who deserved death, I don’t think you could do—what follows. I truly don’t. I barely could." |
She glanced down at the floor, then back at his face. "I can’t just stay here and do nothing in this war. What if I avoid dueling with the enemy, but go along to break through wards, lift curses, and heal people if need be?" |
He sighed, rubbing his temples. "You would still be in danger." |
"Tom, I’m not staying here unless I genuinely cannot move about. If you want me to, you’ll have to use the Imperius Curse on me... just as Malfoy and Lestrange permitted," she added. "And I did study how to defeat it, as you advised." She smiled mirthlessly. |
"I would never do that to you." He pulled her close and placed his hands on her waist. "Very well. As long as you don’t make a point of being a combatant. And in addition, I think you should carry an object with you that will take you back to Parselhall if a battle starts to go badly." |
She nodded. "That makes sense. There might be places that have wards up." |
"Yes, there might indeed." He embraced her. "I just want to keep you safe, Hermione. I am not trying to control you." |
She wrapped her arms around his chest. "I understand. But you need to understand that I have powerful magic and know how to use it, and I think I would be an asset in this fight." |
"Of course you would be. Just... please... when that time comes—and it will come soon, I have no doubt—do what I advised, and what you suggested yourself." |
They remained in their embrace for another minute or two before remembering that Severus had left the room. They broke apart and hurried to the door to let him in. |
The sadly short-handed family had breakfast in silence. When they were finished, they left their dishes for the house-elves and left to go to the great hall, where the guests would be shown as soon as the members of the family were there. |
Tom gazed at the high seat, his expression unreadable. He swallowed hard before finally taking his seat there. "Show them in," he ordered the nearest house-elf. The creature bowed deeply and scampered away to the receiving room. |
When the elf returned to the great hall, it was not with four people, but five. Behind him walked Harry Potter, Marlene Black, her little daughter Cassandra, Remus Lupin, and Sirius. |
"My friends and allies," Tom said formally, "I welcome you to my home as guests in these difficult times. You are most welcome, and I trust that your accommodations have been suitable thus far." |
Sirius nodded. "Of course... my lord." The words were awkward on his tongue, but he managed to say them. "We greatly appreciate your hospitality and the security you offer to us." He gazed from Severus to Hermione and then back to Tom. "You might be surprised that I am here." |
"We were expecting your return as soon as you had news about the castle of my lady wife’s relatives and who put up strong wards on it so quickly. I take it that you do?" |
"Yes," Sirius said grimly. "I do." |
Tom and Hermione exchanged uneasy glances. That tone could not mean anything good. Hermione’s quick mind instantly leapt to a conclusion as to who had put up stronger wards over her parents’—no, her cousin’s castle, but what she could not work out was how it could be so. |
"I feigned to be a royal knight to...." Sirius hesitated, giving Hermione an uncertain look. "To Charles Granger," he finished, apparently concluding that referring to the man as "Lord Granger" would make her feel bad, since that title had long meant her father. "It was convincing enough. I told him that I had learned of the shocking crime against his family and was pleased to see that the castle had been secured. He freely told me who had come to him to swear assistance. I so happened to know all the names he gave," he finished sourly. |
Tom had figured it out too by this time. His eyes flashed scarlet. |
"James Potter was the leader," Sirius said. "Yes, I see you have all guessed that. He had with him the Weasley lad, the one who actually was knighted, as well as a couple of other Weasleys. I don’t know which ones. Frank Longbottom was there too." He glowered at the floor, as if to indicate that this was an extremely disappointing piece of information. |
"So Pettigrew wasn’t lying about their involvement," Tom muttered. |
"It would seem not," Sirius said. He sighed. "We still have to hold his funeral. He died yesterday. It’s hard to believe." |
"So much has happened," Tom agreed. His voice was dark and bitter, Hermione noted, though she did not suppose Tom was about to tell Sirius of the thing he had done late last night. Severus likely knew—he was very sharp and probably had guessed—but it was dangerous to let too many people into the secret. |
Sirius took a deep breath. "There was one more person that your lord cousin told me had been present. I advise you to brace yourselves. Yes, you too, Severus," he added, as Severus’s nostrils flared at what he apparently viewed as a bit of dramatic theatre. "Charles Granger informed me that this party was accompanied as well by an old, bearded man named Albus Dumbledore." |
Tom nearly rose from his seat in outrage. Harry Potter, who was standing near his godfather, winced and looked at the floor. Hermione reached for Tom’s arm to calm him. |
"That is disappointing," she said. "Did you discover how all these wizards even learned of my family tragedy?" |
"That is what I went to investigate. I sent a message by owl to Lord Severus stating that I was looking at that...." |
Severus nodded. "I told them." |
"I had my suspicions, of course. When my brother Regulus came to Godric’s Hollow to tell me that Parselhall was under attack, he also mentioned the tragedy of Lady Hermione’s family. I think James must have been lurking as a stag and overheard." |
"Your father went looking for James Potter—among others—shortly after our wedding. He said that he could not find him," Tom remarked. |
"Well, that is what I think. He can disguise himself very well. Hunters are the only hazard he faces as a stag... and he can deflect their arrows with a shield charm if he casts it over himself before transforming. I’m quite sure that is what happened and how the Friends of the Founders learned of the tragedy so quickly." |
Harry glanced at the floor again at the mention of the group. For a second, Hermione felt for him. He and Neville had founded the group in good faith, not knowing what their parents were doing—not at all aware that they were making deals with a Muggle king that would hurt witches and possibly wizards too, that they would bankrupt the magical families of Britain, and that they would exploit other people’s tragedies for their own gain. |
At that thought, the anger that had been building in Hermione throughout this narrative burst forth. Her words were heated, her voice hoarse. "As a blood relation of the current Lord Granger, I will speak plainly. I am outraged that these people would go to my cousin and ally themselves with him after a terrible family tragedy, without informing me or seeking my permission. I am friends with their children!" she exclaimed. "Harry, of course—but also Neville Longbottom, and Ginevra Weasley. I am their friend, and their parents know that! How dare they go to my cousin behind my back." |
"They probably did it because of their views about women," Tom growled. "To the likes of James Potter, you don’t count because you are a woman and you’re not "really’ a Granger anymore." |
"Undoubtedly!" she exclaimed. "And there’s no doubt in my mind that they mean to go to the king and inform him that this is another example of what magic can do to Muggles." |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.