Fic: Seven Devils in my Heart
Title: Seven Devils in my Heart
Author: ???
Prompt: #5: Harry somehow woke up in an alternate reality (or was he dreaming still?) where Dumbledore was the dark lord and was demonizing Tom Riddle Jr. Harry jumped in to help and somewhere along the line, fell in love.
Rating:NC-17
Pairing(s)/Main Character(s):Tom Riddle/Harry Potter
Word count: 6800 words
Warnings (Highlight to view): * [Character death, dub-con (though this is up to interpretation), mentions of suicidal thoughts and non-con.]*
Summary:Harry wakes up in a world where Voldemort is a fake persona created by the evil Albus Dumbledore. As everything comes to light, Harry finds himself working alongside Tom Riddle to try and stop Dumbledore before it’s too late.
A/N:Thank you to my lovely friend H for beta-ing this for me. I’m sorry I rushed parts of this story and couldn’t write more, but due to scheduling I just couldn’t do it. But who knows, maybe one day I will fill in the missing moments.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't copy/archive/re-post/re-blog this work without the explicit permission from the author/artist.
X
7th August, 1995
Harry sighed as he shifted through yet more and more junk in Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley had put them to work organising anything and everything they came across. The group of them had come across some strange objects so far, but the locket Harry was looking down at now seemed to be the strangest so far.
It wasn’t noticeably strange, looking like a normal locket, with its thick golden frame and the emerald snake engraved on top of it, but it felt warm in Harry’s hands, as though it were part of himself that he was holding. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want to part ways with the locket. Fred and George had slipped a couple of things into their own pockets, so surely Harry taking this one thing wouldn’t matter; it would have cursed him already if it was dangerous, anyway. So Harry stealthily pushed the locket into the pocket of his jeans.
He tried opening the locket later that night, but to no avail; it just didn’t want to open. Harry, being the teenager that he was, threw the locket into his trunk and forgot about it for nearly two years. But the locket was waiting for him; Harry just didn’t know it yet.
21st April 1997
Harry’s mind was racing as he returned from his lesson with Dumbledore. So Voldemort had seven Horcruxes which held pieces of his soul, and with them around, Voldemort couldn’t die. The thought was terrifying, because even though they knew what most of the Horcruxes were, Dumbledore didn’t seem entirely sure on where to find them. And he hadn’t said anything about how to destroy them either.
It was then that a thought hit Harry, however. Dumbledore had mentioned Slytherin’s locket, and Harry had found that locket in Grimmauld place all those months ago. How could he have not thought of it before?
Drawing the curtains around his bed, Harry pulled the lid of his trunk open. He shifted through his belongings, hissing as his palm sliced open as he caught it on a shard of glass from the smashed mirror Sirius had given him. He sucked at the wound briefly, and then went back to searching, delving right into the corner where his fingers met cold metal.
He pulled the locket out, dangling it by its chain. The snake emblem on the front was definitely very Slytherin, but Harry had always presumed that it was just part of the Black family obsession with Slytherin.
But could Harry really be holding a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his hands? The diary had possessed Ginny and tried to suck the life force out of her, but Harry had felt nothing strange like that happen to him, and he had been in possession of the locket for almost two years now.
As if by its own accord, the locket slipped out of his grasp, and with his quick reflexes, Harry managed to catch it with his injured hand before it could clatter onto the floor. He hissed as the jewellery scraped against his cut, and the snake now had blood dotted amongst the emerald gems, making the locket look even more menacingly Slytherin.
Harry yawned, a wave of tiredness washing over him all of a sudden. His eyes felt heavy, and his bed looked so inviting.
Not even bothering to change out of his clothes, he fell back onto his bed, head colliding with the soft pillow, and Harry was asleep almost instantly, the locket still clutched firmly in his hand.
X
Harry jerked awake with a start, the locket still in his tight grasp.
The pale light streaming through the gaps in his curtains suggested it was early, and a quick Tempus spell revealed it to be six in the morning.
He jumped out of bed, yanking his curtains open and sprinting down the stairs and out of Gryffindor tower; how could he have fallen asleep? He could have a part of Voldemort’s soul for crying out loud!
Harry managed to run to Dumbledore’s office as fast as he could, ignoring the paintings grumbling about him waking them up as he rushed by them.
Luckily Dumbledore was awake and sat behind his desk when Harry barged in; Harry hadn’t ever stopped to consider that the headmaster may have been sleeping.
Dumbledore looked slightly surprised to see him, and when Harry slammed the locket down on his desk, the old man looked odd, almost as if he was angry. But his expression soon calmed, and he looked at Harry thoughtfully.
“Where did you get this?” Dumbledore asked lowly, his eyes peering intently into Harry’s.
“Grimmauld Place, ages ago,” Harry explained. “This is Slytherin’s locket, isn’t it? One of Voldemort’s Horcruxes?”
“How do you know about Horcruxes?” Dumbledore asked Harry sharply, taking the teenager aback slightly.
“Err, you told me about them yesterday, sir,” Harry answered awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. In fact, now he had finished his mad sprint to Dumbledore, he noticed something seemed…off. Fawkes was missing for one thing, and the calm, relaxed and happy atmosphere around Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there this morning.
Harry’s nerves eased slightly when Dumbledore chortled, and his eyes lightened. “Forgive me, my boy; I am not as young as I used to be, and my memory must be suffering with my age.”
Harry forced a laugh, but he couldn’t help but feel confused; Dumbledore always seemed so wise, but then again, he was over a hundred years old.
“Harry, I must ask you to journey with me immediately,” Dumbledore announced suddenly, standing from his desk and snatching the locket up. “Horcruxes are not easy to destroy, but I know of a cave where we can dispose of this one.”
“Alright,” Harry nodded. “Err, sir?” Harry questioned, as he stared at Dumbledore’s hands, both of which were flesh coloured and entirely uninjured. “When did your hand get better?”
Dumbledore frowned in confusion. “I never injured my hand,” the headmaster stated, leaving Harry confused.
“But the skin was all, you know, dead,” Harry whispered, still looking at the wrinkled, but otherwise perfectly healthy looking skin on Dumbledore’s hand.
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. “Now we must hurry; I shall Side-Apparate you with me.”
“I thought you couldn’t Apparate in and out of Hogwarts,” Harry mused, mirroring Hermione’s words from many occasions.
“That is right,” Dumbledore agreed, “but I am Headmaster.”
He held his arm out for Harry to take hold of, and Harry hesitated for just a moment before taking hold of the old man’s arm; after all, Dumbledore had never let him down before.
X
The cave Dumbledore had taken Harry to was dank, dark, and suitably eerie.
The headmaster had led Harry to a small island in the middle of a lake inside the cave, with a basin of water on top.
Harry’s hand was stinging from the cut from last night, which Dumbledore had re-opened to allow them entrance to the cave. He felt deeply uncomfortable looking at the strangely calm water around them, which was far too dark to see what lay beneath the surface.
“Harry, my boy, you must drink the water from the basin so we can place the locket within,” Dumbledore told him, handing Harry a goblet already filled with some of the liquid from the basin.
“How is this going to destroy the Horcrux?” Harry asked, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he held the cup; he didn’t understand why he felt so uncomfortable.
“You must trust me, Harry,” was all Dumbledore said. “Now you must keep drinking, no matter what happens.”
Those words didn’t do anything to calm Harry’s nerves, but he slowly raised the goblet to his mouth and took a sip. He waited a moment, expected something awful to start happening, but when nothing did, he downed the goblet and refilled it.
It was as he started on his third cup that his stomach started to ache, and he could hear the familiar sound of his mother’s dying screams in his head. The more he drank, the worse it got, and every sip only seemed to dry his throat out even more.
“Please, no more,” he croakily begged Dumbledore, but the man ignored him, and urged Harry to keep drinking.
Harry felt tears course down his cheeks as his stomach burned, as his mother fell to the floor in front of him over and over again in a flash of green light, and as he felt his throat ache, desperate for relief.
Dumbledore grabbed the goblet from his hands and forced more into Harry’s mouth, ignoring Harry’s feeble attempts to fight the man off.
“It’s all gone now,” Dumbledore said finally, and Harry heard the sound of the locket clinking against the basin. “Go and get a drink from the lake to get rid of the potion.”
Harry nodded weakly, collapsing to his hands and knees and dragging himself over to the island edge. He lowered his head to the water and sipped, feeling instant relief.
He looked back at Dumbledore, who was pouring something from a potion vial back into the basin.
“What are you-?” Harry started, but he jumped as a clammy hand from the water grabbed hold of his wrist. Harry yelped and jumped back, but his body still felt too exhausted to move far.
“I don’t know how you found out about my Horcruxes, but I am glad you returned the locket to me,” Dumbledore stated casually, as more hands emerged from the water, and rotting corpses dragged themselves onto the island. “You were a useful pawn, but I have no need for you any longer; Longbottom will serve me well enough. Your body will be forever rotting in the water, never to be found.”
And then Dumbledore turned his back on him, stepping into the small rowing boat and away from Harry.
“STOP! COME BACK!” Harry screamed, his hand desperately trying to reach his wand, but the creatures from the lake far outnumbered him, and their clammy hands grabbed at him, dragging him towards the water. Harry’s voice was hoarse from screaming, and he felt the water engulf him as he was pulled into it.
He immediately swallowed, filling his lungs with water, and his hands feebly tried to stay above the surface but to no avail.
He felt his body weakening, and felt the need for air grow stronger, but he could do nothing but wait to drown, and he felt terrible despair at having accepted his fate; he didn’t want to die yet. How could Dumbledore have done this to him?
A huge flash of red flew across the top of the water, and them the clammy hands let go of him, rushing down into the depths of the lake. A much more human hand reached down and grabbed hold of him, pulling him up from the water and back onto the island.
Harry took a huge gasp for breath as he escaped the water and crouched over, heaving as he expelled the water from his body. He was shivering violently, and strong arms wrapped around him, stroking his arms comfortingly.
Harry stayed in that position for a long time as he calmed himself, and waited for his body to recover. His eyes were damp, and not just from the water, and he swiped at them furiously.
“Are you okay now?” a soft voice asked, and Harry turned to finally face his saviour, jerking away and shouting in shock as he eyed the man who had helped him.
His saviour was none other than Tom Riddle, looking older than he had in the Chamber of Secrets, perhaps in his early thirties, but still obviously the same person.
“Get away from me!” Harry shouted, patting his pockets desperately trying to find his wand. “I’m warning you, don’t try anything.”
Riddle held his hands up defensively, showing Harry he was unarmed.
“Please, I know Dumbledore may have told you lies about me, but I swear I do not mean you any harm; I could have left you to drown if I wanted you to die.”
Harry nodded, but mainly because he couldn’t find his wand, and he stood no chance with no weapon; better to stay on Riddle’s good side.
“What’s going on? Why did Dumbledore try to kill me?” Harry asked wildly, feeling tears sting at his eyes again; who knew betrayal could hurt so much? He didn’t even care if he was getting emotional; the man who he had trusted most had left him to die, and the man he had been trying to kill had saved him.
“Dumbledore isn’t who you think he is, and nor am I,” Riddle said, his hands still in the air. “Voldemort doesn’t exist; he is nothing more than a persona Dumbledore made up to get away with committing crimes, and then blamed them on me. I promise you I have never killed a soul in my life, and the only one I intend on hurting is Dumbledore for destroying my life.”
“Why should I believe you? I saw you come back! I watched you and Dumbledore fight just a few months ago,” Harry argued, watching as Riddle’s eyes seemed to fall.
“Dumbledore is good at what he does; that’s why I cannot do anything about this all,” Riddle answered. “And the man just tried to kill you; surely that is a support for my story?”
“No, no, this doesn’t make any sense,” Harry groaned, clutching his head. “You-you killed my parents, I fought you four times already. Dumbledore told me all about your Horcruxes; we were meant to destroy that locket.”
“He said I killed your parents? Merlin, surely you cannot be-are you Harry Potter?” Riddle gasped, suddenly even more interested in studying Harry.
“You know who I am!” Harry spat, but Riddle shook his head.
“I am so sorry, Harry,” Riddle said softly, taking Harry’s hands in his, and Harry didn’t fight the touch. “Dumbledore killed your parents and blamed it on me. Has he told you about the apparent Prophecy? That never existed; it was all a ploy to make a pawn for him to win over the Wizarding World; a young boy destined to save the world, and to do all of Dumbledore’s dirty work for him in the process. Dumbledore’s plan is to destroy the Muggle-born community under the pretence that it is my doing. He would then use you to kill me, and then likely kill you afterwards, all the while gaining support so he would be the leader of the Wizarding World.”
Harry felt Riddle’s words spinning over and over again in his mind. Hadn’t Dumbledore said he had needed Harry, but Neville could just as easily take his place; the other Prophecy child. Besides, the headmaster had said outright it was his Horcrux, and not Riddle’s.
“But why you?” Harry asked gently, bowing his head.
“Because he was afraid of me; I was incredibly clever, but that was my downfall,” Riddle answered, running his thumb in circles on Harry’s skin. “Because of him, all my opportunities were destroyed, and I have had to live my life in hiding. Fortunately, that has given me time to study Dumbledore; I know where each of his Horcruxes are, and how to destroy them. You were lucky I chose tonight to go after the locket, otherwise you would have drowned and your body remained forever undiscovered in those murky depths. Dumbledore will believe you to be dead now, so if you want to go into hiding, then I shall help you, but please, if you believe me, I could really do with your help in destroying these Horcruxes and bringing Dumbledore down. I will never be able to clear my name; the damage runs too deep, but I can stop the mindless killings.”
“I’ll help you,” Harry said, looking defiantly at Riddle. “I believe you.”
And Harry did believe him; he did not know whether he was just living out some strange nightmare, of if this was really happening, but all he knew was that Dumbledore had tried to kill him, but Tom Riddle had saved his life, and that told Harry all he needed.
X
“This is Bellatrix Lestrange,” Tom told Harry one day, gesturing towards a beautiful woman with heavy dark eyes and thick dark hair, and looking noticeably less crazy than the Bellatrix from the Ministry of Magic last year.
Tom had left the cave with Harry, and taken him to his hideout to rest in. Harry had gone straight to bed, and the next morning Tom had retrieved the locket. Tom informed him the Horcrux in it had been destroyed, but he had tried to keep the locket intact because it was a far too beautiful and authentic piece of jewellery to be destroyed. Tom had mused that the emeralds matched Harry’s eyes, and he wanted Harry to have it.
Harry hadn’t taken the locket off since, and the heavy weight around his neck was a comfort to him now.
Harry and Tom had spent the last week together, with Tom telling Harry more about his history. Apparently the memories Dumbledore had shown Harry were true, with Tom being raised in an orphanage after the death of his mother, but Tom showed Harry his own memories, where Dumbledore abused him for being Half-blood, and berated him for his intelligence, saying he would never be smarter or wiser than Dumbledore.
Tom had also given Harry a new wand, though it wasn’t as compatible with him as his old wand had been, but it was better than nothing. Tom giving Harry a wand, plus allowing him free reign of the hideout, made Harry feel very safe, and this Tom seemed far different than the Voldemort he had encountered before. He did, of course, get feelings of suspicion from time to time, but from Harry’s experience of Voldemort, he wouldn’t mess around; he would just rather torture Harry for a bit before killing him outright.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Bellatrix smiled at him.
“Bellatrix is another one of Dumbledore’s favourites to vilify,” Tom explained. “The Longbottoms were very respected Aurors, but, like your parents, they came too close to the truth, so he eliminated them by driving them into insanity.”
“Augusta Longbottom had been a dear friend of my mother’s at one point,” Bellatrix said sadly. “She was my idol, but she now believes me to be a monster.”
“Augusta is also protecting a Horcrux; the cup, although she isn’t aware about what is it,” Tom said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, which made Harry feel oddly warm on the inside and made his stomach flip. “Bellatrix wishes to apologise to Augusta, but this also presents us with the opportunity to retrieve the cup. Would you be able to write to Neville, telling him you are alive and to return to his grandmother’s house to meet you? I shall charm the letter so that only Neville can read it, and he will also be unable to speak of the content. Bellatrix can meet with Augusta then, and give a warning to Neville in the process, because Dumbledore will surely be after Neville next.”
Harry nodded, and had the letter written up in an hour
Two days later, Bellatrix returned with the cup, and Tom took it away to destroy it.
X
Tom suspected that one of Dumbledore’s Horcruxes was Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, and that it was hidden in Hogwarts.
“Is there anybody you trust completely within Hogwarts that could help? I would not advise Neville, because he has gone into hiding with his grandmother,” Tom said to Harry, looking thoughtful. Harry didn’t like it when Tom did that, because it was too easy to get distracted by Tom’s good looks. Harry had always had a vague awareness of being attracted to men as well as women, but Tom seemed to surpass anyone he had ever had a crush on before.
“Ron or Hermione,” Harry mused. “Hermione is a genius; I’m sure she’d know where to find the diadem. Or there’s Luna; she’s a Ravenclaw.”
“This Luna girl would likely be the best option,” Tom nodded. “Write to her, and I shall perform the same charms on the letters for you.”
Harry wrote the letter just as quickly as before, but Luna took three days to reply, by which point Harry was starting to get edgy. Harry never felt such relief when she finally sent a letter back, saying she had the diadem and needed to meet him somewhere. Tom told Harry it would be best for Harry to go alone, in case Tom’s presence spooked Luna, and Harry agreed it made a lot of sense.
Luna managed to leave Hogwarts at the weekend, and Harry met her in a pub in a Muggle town. He couldn’t help but embrace her as he saw her, and she hugged him back just as tightly.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Luna said as they pulled apart. “Of course, we were all sad when we thought you were.”
“What did Dumbledore tell people?” Harry asked, and Luna smiled.
“That you had been killed doing something noble in an attempt to kill You-Know-Who,” Luna hummed. “I thought that was very boring; being killed by a Burrowing Dazzinger would be much more you.”
Harry didn’t know what a Burrowing Dazzinger was, but he was glad that Luna hadn’t changed now that everything else was messed up.
“Right,” Harry smirked. “So did you find the diadem okay?”
“Oh, yes; it was right in the Room of Hidden Things,” Luna nodded, reaching into her bag and handing the diadem over to Harry. “It was rather tricky to find, but Helena helped me. That’s the Grey Lady; she’s very shy, but I’m her friend.”
“Thank you, Luna,” Harry said, offering Luna a grateful smile. “Please don’t tell anyone I’m alive though. Except…”Harry paused, looking around to make sure nobody overheard them. “Maybe you could ask Ron, Hermione and Ginny if they want to go to the Burrow next weekend so I can meet them; just don’t tell them why or anything. It will be a nice surprise.”
X
Harry never got to see his friends and he never would again.
He and Luna had parted ways, and Harry had given the diadem to Tom, who had hugged him and left Harry feeling very flushed.
He didn’t mention that he had plans to go to the Burrow; he knew he could trust the Weasleys, but Tom might not be sure about it. Harry hadn’t planned to let that hold him back, however.
Just an hour before Harry planned to leave, Tom came to him, with a sombre expression on his face. He explained that the Weasley household had been ambushed, and every member killed, including Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Tom suspected Dumbledore himself had taken part in the murders.
Harry hadn’t stopped crying since Tom had told him, but the older man had sat with Harry the entire time, his arms wrapped protectively around him.
“Why did they need to die?” Harry cried, sobbing into Tom’s shoulder and shaking violently.
“Maybe we weren’t as careful as we thought,” Tom said quietly, rubbing circles on Harry’s back. “I’m sorry; perhaps my charms weren’t powerful enough or-“
“No, it was my fault,” Harry wailed. “I t-told Luna to tell them to go home so I could meet them; someone must have overheard and ran straight to Dumbledore.”
“Harry, don’t blame yourself,” Tom soothed. “I promise you we’ll get him for this.”
Harry nodded, looking up at Tom. The man was so handsome, so strong, and Harry couldn’t help himself as he tilted his head upwards and pressed his lips against Tom’s. He could feel tears dripping onto their lips but he didn’t care. He felt warm and safe with Tom, and kissing Tom seemed to be more important than breathing. Tom stiffened for just a moment, but then he was kissing Harry back, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, and for that moment, Harry was able to forget.
X
Two weeks had passed since the massacre of the Weasleys, and Harry and Tom hadn’t gotten anywhere with finding more Horcruxes. Tom had destroyed the others, but Tom said there was still the ring to go. He had destroyed the diary and the snake before he had met Harry.
“Dumbledore told me he had destroyed the ring,” Harry said, thinking back to when he had learnt about the Horcruxes, even though Dumbledore claimed to have forgotten the lesson. That was one of the reasons Harry still believed this to be a very long dream; Dumbledore seemed to have changed overnight, and his hand had healed, but the fact he had tried to kill Harry had put him right off the headmaster, nonetheless.
“I suppose we may have to end this then,” Tom mused, taking Harry’s hand in his. They hadn’t progressed past hand-holding and kissing, but Harry had been crawling into bed with Tom every night and falling asleep curled against him. “Are you ready for that? We can go in, destroy the ring, and kill Dumbledore. Nobody else needs to know, and nobody else needs to get hurt; we just need Dumbledore dead or he won’t stop his massacres.”
Harry nodded; he hadn’t ever really wanted to kill anybody; not even Voldemort really, but the deaths of the closest people he had to family could change a person.
“I’m ready,” Harry nodded, and the locket under his shirt seemed to thump with excitement.
“Perfect,” Tom smiled. He took Harry’s hand in his, but Harry hissed when something sharp slid across his skin. “Oh, I’m so sorry; I have sharp nails. I didn’t mean to-“ Tom apologised frantically, but Harry shook his head.
“Don’t worry; it was an accident,” Harry said softly, and Tom bowed his head, fumbling with the chain of the locket and pulling it over Harry’s shirt. He entwined their hands over the cold metal, and pressed his forehead against Harry’s.
“I promise I won’t hurt you, Harry,” Tom whispered, and Harry felt a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him. “Go to sleep; it will all be over soon.”
X
Getting into Hogwarts had been surprisingly easy.
The next day, Harry had suggested using the passageway under the Whomping Willow, and even Tom had been surprised that there was a way in from the Shrieking Shack. So once night fell, Harry, Tom, Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan journeyed to the Shrieking Shack, taking the bigger group in case some of Dumbledore’s followers were in the castle, and Tom said he had others on stand-by just in case they were needed.
“I won’t be letting you get injured or killed; I can’t lose you,” Tom had told Harry seriously, kissing him possessively.
Harry and Tom had gone separate ways from the Lestranges, and Harry had led Tom straight to the entrance of Dumbledore’s office.
“So all this took was an old passageway and the dead of night?” Tom mused amusedly to himself, as Harry told the statue the password, giving them access to Dumbledore’s office.
They hurried up the staircase, and when Harry kicked the door open, Dumbledore looked startled, dropping the book he was reading onto his desk.
“Harry?” Dumbledore gasped, looking frantically between Harry and Tom. “You’re alive?”
“No thanks to you,” Harry spat.
“I suppose you’ve come for the last Horcrux, have you?” Dumbledore smirked, holding up his hand to reveal the glinting ring. “I’m afraid the only way you’ll get this is to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Harry snarled, not noticing Tom was searching through Dumbledore’s cabinets. “How could you kill all those people? What did the Weasleys ever do to you? They were innocent.”
“Blood traitors,” Dumbledore answered simply with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Harry felt sick; how could Dumbledore, the man he respected so much, be such a vile character?
“Do it, Harry,” Tom hissed in his ear, suddenly behind him. Tom’s hand grasped Harry’s and raised his wand hand, aiming at Dumbledore. “Kill him; two simple words, and it all ends. Do it!”
The locket was shaking beneath his shirt, and his mind seemed clouded, his head light, as he heard the words ‘Avada Kedavra’ leave his mouth. The green light sped towards Dumbledore, the man appearing shocked as the light engulfed him, and he crumpled forwards onto his desk, suddenly very still.
The cloudiness seemed to leave Harry’s mind, and the shock of what happened began to rush over him in waves.
He fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared at Dumbledore’s body. Was that it? Was Dumbledore dead now, with no way to return once the ring was destroyed?
Tom hoisted him to his feet, and pushed Harry against a wall, kissing him furiously.
“We did it!” Tom grinned against his mouth.
“Tom?” Harry groaned, pushing at the man weakly, but Tom’s tongue was too sinfully delicious to say no to. His eyes trailed over to Dumbledore, and the reasons for Harry’s reluctance became strong once more. “We can’t-“
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Tom said. “I just got over-emotional; he’s caused me so much pain over the years, and to see him dead; well, I just felt so happy. Dumbledore is dead, and I have found somebody to love-“
“Love? You love me?” Harry cut in, looking at Tom hopefully. The man nodded shyly, and pressed a hand to the side of Harry’s face.
“I am in love with you, Harry. I just want to show you how much,” Tom whispered, kissing Harry once more, with a much more tender touch.
Harry wrapped his arms around Tom’s shoulders, shutting his eyes as to forget where they were.
“I love you too,” Harry whispered against Tom’s lips. “So, so much.”
Harry wrapped his legs around Tom’s waist, and shivered as Tom muttered a spell, leaving Harry’s clothes in a pool on the floor, and with the locket the only thing left on his body.
Tom pushed his finger into Harry’s mouth, and Harry sucked on the digit, shivering with anticipation as Tom moved his hand downed and pushed a finger inside of Harry.
Harry moaned as a second finger joined the first, scissoring in him.
“Are you sure you want this?” Tom said breathlessly, his eyes full of lust and adoration.
“Yes, yes,” Harry hissed, grinding against the fingers in him. He didn’t care where he was anymore; he just needed Tom.
Tom murmured another spell, and then he moved his fingers, pressing his cock at Harry’s entrance instead.
Tom swallowed Harry’s whimpers with a kiss as he pushed inside of him, and he began to thrust slowly in and out of Harry, picking up the pace as Harry’s hole stretched around the cock inside of him. It hurt, but Harry couldn’t even find it in him to care; he finally had Tom inside him.
“Tell me you love me,” Tom hissed, moving his head down to bite at Harry’s neck.
“I love you,” Harry groaned, shutting his eyes as his prostate was slammed into.
“Who do you belong to? Are you mine?” Tom said, and Harry nodded. “Tell me!” Tom pressed. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, I belong to you,” Harry panted as Tom ruthlessly pounded into him.
“Heart, mind and soul?” Tom whispered, biting down on Harry’s other shoulder.
“Yes, heart, mind and soul,” Harry shouted, not caring about anything but the sensations in his body. He needed Tom; he craved him. Tom was like a drug; part of Harry that he couldn’t be without. His whole body seemed to be throbbing, and he felt as though invisible strings were pulling him closer to Tom.
Tom’s hand closed around Harry’s erection, stroking him in time with each thrust.
“Come for me, pet,” Tom growled, and Harry did, spilling into Tom’s fist as Tom released inside him.
Harry gasped as a sudden pain hit Harry, and a white light engulfed him, blinding him.
He felt Tom pull out of him, and Harry stumbled to the floor. The locket seemed to tighten around him, viciously shaking against his skin.
The light started to fade away, and Harry looked up, yelping in shock at the sight.
Where Tom had been standing now stood Voldemort. Gone were the luscious black locks and handsome features, replaced with the strikingly white face, nose and lips non-existent. Voldemort looked down at Harry with a satisfied smirk on his face, and Harry felt as though his heart had snapped in two.
“What?” Harry gasped, but then he heard a groan coming from Dumbledore’s desk. The headmaster was slumped over the table, his blackened hand dangling off the edge. He shifted slightly, and Harry didn’t know whether he should be pleased that Dumbledore was alive.
“I should have known you would be too weak-minded to perform the Killing Curse correctly,” Voldemort hissed. “It’s no matter though; I’m glad he got to see his prized boy degraded.”
“You bastard!” Harry snarled, grabbing his wand and jumping to his feet, not caring that he was naked, or that he had no idea what was going on. “Crucio!” he yelled, knowing the rage and hatred inside of him would be sure to hurt Voldemort, only, the spell never got to the Dark wizard.
Instead, the red light reversed, hitting Harry with his own spell, and the teenager screamed as pain overtook him.
“You are a fool, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, stalking around the shaking boy as if he were eyeing his prey. “The power of love indeed.”
“Y-you better start talking sense,” Harry growled, his wand still shaking in his grip.
“Oh it all makes perfect sense,” Voldemort smiled coldly, watching Harry with emotionless eyes. “Your mind is so weak. I would have thought you would have tried Occlumency once more after your actions led to the death of your mutt godfather, but your stubbornness proved very useful to me. I was very fortunate that you provided my locket with your blood; it allowed me greater access to your mind. It was within your mind that I placed a scenario of your dear headmaster as a cruel, manipulative Dark lord, and your lack of control led you to become entranced. Nothing more than a pretty face and lies made from kind words had you entrapped in my grip, and the locket allowed me even greater control over you; every decision and thought you had was influenced by me.”
Harry didn’t know what to do. He wanted to cry, to stab Voldemort in the face with a rusty knife, to throw himself off the Astronomy Tower. How could he have let this happen? Did he really fall for Voldemort’s mind games? He thought of eleven year-old Ginny throwing off the power of the diary’s possession, while he couldn’t fight Voldemort, even after knowing he could have learnt Occlumency to sever the connection between him and Voldemort.
“You proved very useful in helping me achieve everything I needed to ensure a victory in the war,” Voldemort continued, moving to Dumbledore and rolling the man onto his back. A swoosh clicked through the air, and then a blade was impaled in Dumbledore, causing the man to snap his eyes open and gasp. “Before you die, Dumbledore, you must hear the rest,” Voldemort mocked. “I retrieved the locket with the help of the Black House-elf, thanks to orders from Bellatrix. Bellatrix retrieved the cup from her vault at Gringotts, and then tortured and killed Augusta and Neville Longbottom, removing the other Prophecy child for good. I saw in your mind you requested your friends to return to their home, which provided me a perfect opportunity to dispose of a key Light family. All my Horcruxes have been retrieved, and have been placed into safety, and once Dumbledore is dead, there is nobody who will dare defy me.”
“There will always be someone to defy you,” Dumbledore croaked weakly.
“Fool!” Voldemort snapped. “There is no-one; not when the great Harry Potter will be by my side.”
“I’ll never join you,” Harry spat. “Either you can kill me, or I’ll kill myself; I’d rather do that than serve you.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter, pet,” Voldemort said gently, and he smirked at Harry wickedly. “Dumbledore often told me how powerful love was, and how it would beat me, but it can’t beat me if I harnessed the power of love myself. It was very easy to make you fall, Harry Potter. I know my past self was handsome, and soft words and light touches were all I needed to make you give your heart to me. I had originally planned to kill you once you learnt the truth, so you could die knowing that you had been wrong all these years, but when I was examining Dumbledore’s Pensieve, I learnt some very interesting information about you. Would you like to tell him, Dumbledore?”
Harry looked towards Dumbledore, who looked straight back at him. A single tear fell from Dumbledore’s eye, but his voice was calm as he spoke. “You are a Horcrux, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “One Voldemort never intended to make. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“And Dumbledore expected you to sacrifice yourself, so that someone else could kill me once you were gone,” Voldemort finished for Dumbledore. “As I can no longer kill you without killing part of my own self, I instead chose to bind you to me. You sold your heart, mind and soul to me; you are mine for the rest of time.”
“No,” Harry whispered, clutching at his head with his hands. “No! No! This can’t be happening. Please, professor, say this is wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “I have let you down.”
Harry screamed, slamming his fist on the floor.
A flash of green lit up the room, and then Dumbledore’s body rolled in front of him, this time never to move again.
Voldemort crouched down beside Harry and gathered him into his arms. Harry fought against the grip, but Voldemort was far stronger than he was, and Harry sagged pathetically in Voldemort’s arms, the weight of reality crashing over him. Harry had lost. He hadn’t learnt from his mistake with Sirius, and now he had lost. Everyone he cared about was dead, the Wizarding World was ready for Voldemort to take, and all because Harry had left his mind open to Voldemort’s attack, and Voldemort had taken advantage of him in every way possible. He couldn’t even hurt Voldemort without it hurting him, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Harry could hurt himself until all the pain went away.
“I loved you,” Harry murmured, tears splashing onto his bare legs.
“And that is where you went wrong,” Voldemort mocked, forcing Harry to stand with him. “Love may have saved you once, but love is nothing but a game for fools. You played the game with a cheater, and you paid for that. You mustn’t worry, pet; you are mine now, and I take care of what is mine.”
30st March, 2000
Voldemort lounged back on his chair, running his long, pale fingers through the tatty hair of his pet, who was kneeling naked on the floor, resting his head on Voldemort’s thigh.
After the death of Dumbledore, the Wizarding World had soon crumbled at Voldemort’s feet. The Ministry had been taken over, as had Hogwarts, and the elimination of Mudbloods and blood-traitors had now been completed.
Harry Potter was no more; he was simply known as ‘Pet’. Naturally, the boy hadn’t given in without a fight at first. He may have bonded himself to Voldemort, but that hadn’t stopped him trying to fight the bond off. He had also tried to escape on a number of occasions, and told Voldemort numerous times that he’d kill himself the first chance he got, but Voldemort never let Pet out of his sight.
Things were different now though. Pet had been fun to break, and Voldemort had taken pleasure in doing it. Voldemort had raped him, held back food and water until Pet reached desperation point, and refused the boy contact with anyone else. He only spoke to Pet in Parseltongue, and punished Pet when he spoke in English.
Pet’s mind had soon broken, and now he was Voldemort’s completely.
Voldemort had achieved everything he had wanted, and Harry Potter was the prize on top.
Dumbledore always believed that Voldemort’s downfall would be love, but Dumbledore never realised that love was ripe for manipulation.
He had played Harry Potter’s heart like a violin, and in the end, all he had to do was cut the strings.
The End
Author: ???
Prompt: #5: Harry somehow woke up in an alternate reality (or was he dreaming still?) where Dumbledore was the dark lord and was demonizing Tom Riddle Jr. Harry jumped in to help and somewhere along the line, fell in love.
Rating:NC-17
Pairing(s)/Main Character(s):Tom Riddle/Harry Potter
Word count: 6800 words
Warnings (Highlight to view): * [Character death, dub-con (though this is up to interpretation), mentions of suicidal thoughts and non-con.]*
Summary:Harry wakes up in a world where Voldemort is a fake persona created by the evil Albus Dumbledore. As everything comes to light, Harry finds himself working alongside Tom Riddle to try and stop Dumbledore before it’s too late.
A/N:Thank you to my lovely friend H for beta-ing this for me. I’m sorry I rushed parts of this story and couldn’t write more, but due to scheduling I just couldn’t do it. But who knows, maybe one day I will fill in the missing moments.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended. Please don't copy/archive/re-post/re-blog this work without the explicit permission from the author/artist.
X
7th August, 1995
Harry sighed as he shifted through yet more and more junk in Grimmauld Place. Molly Weasley had put them to work organising anything and everything they came across. The group of them had come across some strange objects so far, but the locket Harry was looking down at now seemed to be the strangest so far.
It wasn’t noticeably strange, looking like a normal locket, with its thick golden frame and the emerald snake engraved on top of it, but it felt warm in Harry’s hands, as though it were part of himself that he was holding. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he knew he didn’t want to part ways with the locket. Fred and George had slipped a couple of things into their own pockets, so surely Harry taking this one thing wouldn’t matter; it would have cursed him already if it was dangerous, anyway. So Harry stealthily pushed the locket into the pocket of his jeans.
He tried opening the locket later that night, but to no avail; it just didn’t want to open. Harry, being the teenager that he was, threw the locket into his trunk and forgot about it for nearly two years. But the locket was waiting for him; Harry just didn’t know it yet.
21st April 1997
Harry’s mind was racing as he returned from his lesson with Dumbledore. So Voldemort had seven Horcruxes which held pieces of his soul, and with them around, Voldemort couldn’t die. The thought was terrifying, because even though they knew what most of the Horcruxes were, Dumbledore didn’t seem entirely sure on where to find them. And he hadn’t said anything about how to destroy them either.
It was then that a thought hit Harry, however. Dumbledore had mentioned Slytherin’s locket, and Harry had found that locket in Grimmauld place all those months ago. How could he have not thought of it before?
Drawing the curtains around his bed, Harry pulled the lid of his trunk open. He shifted through his belongings, hissing as his palm sliced open as he caught it on a shard of glass from the smashed mirror Sirius had given him. He sucked at the wound briefly, and then went back to searching, delving right into the corner where his fingers met cold metal.
He pulled the locket out, dangling it by its chain. The snake emblem on the front was definitely very Slytherin, but Harry had always presumed that it was just part of the Black family obsession with Slytherin.
But could Harry really be holding a piece of Voldemort’s soul in his hands? The diary had possessed Ginny and tried to suck the life force out of her, but Harry had felt nothing strange like that happen to him, and he had been in possession of the locket for almost two years now.
As if by its own accord, the locket slipped out of his grasp, and with his quick reflexes, Harry managed to catch it with his injured hand before it could clatter onto the floor. He hissed as the jewellery scraped against his cut, and the snake now had blood dotted amongst the emerald gems, making the locket look even more menacingly Slytherin.
Harry yawned, a wave of tiredness washing over him all of a sudden. His eyes felt heavy, and his bed looked so inviting.
Not even bothering to change out of his clothes, he fell back onto his bed, head colliding with the soft pillow, and Harry was asleep almost instantly, the locket still clutched firmly in his hand.
X
Harry jerked awake with a start, the locket still in his tight grasp.
The pale light streaming through the gaps in his curtains suggested it was early, and a quick Tempus spell revealed it to be six in the morning.
He jumped out of bed, yanking his curtains open and sprinting down the stairs and out of Gryffindor tower; how could he have fallen asleep? He could have a part of Voldemort’s soul for crying out loud!
Harry managed to run to Dumbledore’s office as fast as he could, ignoring the paintings grumbling about him waking them up as he rushed by them.
Luckily Dumbledore was awake and sat behind his desk when Harry barged in; Harry hadn’t ever stopped to consider that the headmaster may have been sleeping.
Dumbledore looked slightly surprised to see him, and when Harry slammed the locket down on his desk, the old man looked odd, almost as if he was angry. But his expression soon calmed, and he looked at Harry thoughtfully.
“Where did you get this?” Dumbledore asked lowly, his eyes peering intently into Harry’s.
“Grimmauld Place, ages ago,” Harry explained. “This is Slytherin’s locket, isn’t it? One of Voldemort’s Horcruxes?”
“How do you know about Horcruxes?” Dumbledore asked Harry sharply, taking the teenager aback slightly.
“Err, you told me about them yesterday, sir,” Harry answered awkwardly, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. In fact, now he had finished his mad sprint to Dumbledore, he noticed something seemed…off. Fawkes was missing for one thing, and the calm, relaxed and happy atmosphere around Dumbledore didn’t seem to be there this morning.
Harry’s nerves eased slightly when Dumbledore chortled, and his eyes lightened. “Forgive me, my boy; I am not as young as I used to be, and my memory must be suffering with my age.”
Harry forced a laugh, but he couldn’t help but feel confused; Dumbledore always seemed so wise, but then again, he was over a hundred years old.
“Harry, I must ask you to journey with me immediately,” Dumbledore announced suddenly, standing from his desk and snatching the locket up. “Horcruxes are not easy to destroy, but I know of a cave where we can dispose of this one.”
“Alright,” Harry nodded. “Err, sir?” Harry questioned, as he stared at Dumbledore’s hands, both of which were flesh coloured and entirely uninjured. “When did your hand get better?”
Dumbledore frowned in confusion. “I never injured my hand,” the headmaster stated, leaving Harry confused.
“But the skin was all, you know, dead,” Harry whispered, still looking at the wrinkled, but otherwise perfectly healthy looking skin on Dumbledore’s hand.
“I’m afraid you must be mistaken,” Dumbledore said with a small smile. “Now we must hurry; I shall Side-Apparate you with me.”
“I thought you couldn’t Apparate in and out of Hogwarts,” Harry mused, mirroring Hermione’s words from many occasions.
“That is right,” Dumbledore agreed, “but I am Headmaster.”
He held his arm out for Harry to take hold of, and Harry hesitated for just a moment before taking hold of the old man’s arm; after all, Dumbledore had never let him down before.
X
The cave Dumbledore had taken Harry to was dank, dark, and suitably eerie.
The headmaster had led Harry to a small island in the middle of a lake inside the cave, with a basin of water on top.
Harry’s hand was stinging from the cut from last night, which Dumbledore had re-opened to allow them entrance to the cave. He felt deeply uncomfortable looking at the strangely calm water around them, which was far too dark to see what lay beneath the surface.
“Harry, my boy, you must drink the water from the basin so we can place the locket within,” Dumbledore told him, handing Harry a goblet already filled with some of the liquid from the basin.
“How is this going to destroy the Horcrux?” Harry asked, trying to stop his hands from shaking as he held the cup; he didn’t understand why he felt so uncomfortable.
“You must trust me, Harry,” was all Dumbledore said. “Now you must keep drinking, no matter what happens.”
Those words didn’t do anything to calm Harry’s nerves, but he slowly raised the goblet to his mouth and took a sip. He waited a moment, expected something awful to start happening, but when nothing did, he downed the goblet and refilled it.
It was as he started on his third cup that his stomach started to ache, and he could hear the familiar sound of his mother’s dying screams in his head. The more he drank, the worse it got, and every sip only seemed to dry his throat out even more.
“Please, no more,” he croakily begged Dumbledore, but the man ignored him, and urged Harry to keep drinking.
Harry felt tears course down his cheeks as his stomach burned, as his mother fell to the floor in front of him over and over again in a flash of green light, and as he felt his throat ache, desperate for relief.
Dumbledore grabbed the goblet from his hands and forced more into Harry’s mouth, ignoring Harry’s feeble attempts to fight the man off.
“It’s all gone now,” Dumbledore said finally, and Harry heard the sound of the locket clinking against the basin. “Go and get a drink from the lake to get rid of the potion.”
Harry nodded weakly, collapsing to his hands and knees and dragging himself over to the island edge. He lowered his head to the water and sipped, feeling instant relief.
He looked back at Dumbledore, who was pouring something from a potion vial back into the basin.
“What are you-?” Harry started, but he jumped as a clammy hand from the water grabbed hold of his wrist. Harry yelped and jumped back, but his body still felt too exhausted to move far.
“I don’t know how you found out about my Horcruxes, but I am glad you returned the locket to me,” Dumbledore stated casually, as more hands emerged from the water, and rotting corpses dragged themselves onto the island. “You were a useful pawn, but I have no need for you any longer; Longbottom will serve me well enough. Your body will be forever rotting in the water, never to be found.”
And then Dumbledore turned his back on him, stepping into the small rowing boat and away from Harry.
“STOP! COME BACK!” Harry screamed, his hand desperately trying to reach his wand, but the creatures from the lake far outnumbered him, and their clammy hands grabbed at him, dragging him towards the water. Harry’s voice was hoarse from screaming, and he felt the water engulf him as he was pulled into it.
He immediately swallowed, filling his lungs with water, and his hands feebly tried to stay above the surface but to no avail.
He felt his body weakening, and felt the need for air grow stronger, but he could do nothing but wait to drown, and he felt terrible despair at having accepted his fate; he didn’t want to die yet. How could Dumbledore have done this to him?
A huge flash of red flew across the top of the water, and them the clammy hands let go of him, rushing down into the depths of the lake. A much more human hand reached down and grabbed hold of him, pulling him up from the water and back onto the island.
Harry took a huge gasp for breath as he escaped the water and crouched over, heaving as he expelled the water from his body. He was shivering violently, and strong arms wrapped around him, stroking his arms comfortingly.
Harry stayed in that position for a long time as he calmed himself, and waited for his body to recover. His eyes were damp, and not just from the water, and he swiped at them furiously.
“Are you okay now?” a soft voice asked, and Harry turned to finally face his saviour, jerking away and shouting in shock as he eyed the man who had helped him.
His saviour was none other than Tom Riddle, looking older than he had in the Chamber of Secrets, perhaps in his early thirties, but still obviously the same person.
“Get away from me!” Harry shouted, patting his pockets desperately trying to find his wand. “I’m warning you, don’t try anything.”
Riddle held his hands up defensively, showing Harry he was unarmed.
“Please, I know Dumbledore may have told you lies about me, but I swear I do not mean you any harm; I could have left you to drown if I wanted you to die.”
Harry nodded, but mainly because he couldn’t find his wand, and he stood no chance with no weapon; better to stay on Riddle’s good side.
“What’s going on? Why did Dumbledore try to kill me?” Harry asked wildly, feeling tears sting at his eyes again; who knew betrayal could hurt so much? He didn’t even care if he was getting emotional; the man who he had trusted most had left him to die, and the man he had been trying to kill had saved him.
“Dumbledore isn’t who you think he is, and nor am I,” Riddle said, his hands still in the air. “Voldemort doesn’t exist; he is nothing more than a persona Dumbledore made up to get away with committing crimes, and then blamed them on me. I promise you I have never killed a soul in my life, and the only one I intend on hurting is Dumbledore for destroying my life.”
“Why should I believe you? I saw you come back! I watched you and Dumbledore fight just a few months ago,” Harry argued, watching as Riddle’s eyes seemed to fall.
“Dumbledore is good at what he does; that’s why I cannot do anything about this all,” Riddle answered. “And the man just tried to kill you; surely that is a support for my story?”
“No, no, this doesn’t make any sense,” Harry groaned, clutching his head. “You-you killed my parents, I fought you four times already. Dumbledore told me all about your Horcruxes; we were meant to destroy that locket.”
“He said I killed your parents? Merlin, surely you cannot be-are you Harry Potter?” Riddle gasped, suddenly even more interested in studying Harry.
“You know who I am!” Harry spat, but Riddle shook his head.
“I am so sorry, Harry,” Riddle said softly, taking Harry’s hands in his, and Harry didn’t fight the touch. “Dumbledore killed your parents and blamed it on me. Has he told you about the apparent Prophecy? That never existed; it was all a ploy to make a pawn for him to win over the Wizarding World; a young boy destined to save the world, and to do all of Dumbledore’s dirty work for him in the process. Dumbledore’s plan is to destroy the Muggle-born community under the pretence that it is my doing. He would then use you to kill me, and then likely kill you afterwards, all the while gaining support so he would be the leader of the Wizarding World.”
Harry felt Riddle’s words spinning over and over again in his mind. Hadn’t Dumbledore said he had needed Harry, but Neville could just as easily take his place; the other Prophecy child. Besides, the headmaster had said outright it was his Horcrux, and not Riddle’s.
“But why you?” Harry asked gently, bowing his head.
“Because he was afraid of me; I was incredibly clever, but that was my downfall,” Riddle answered, running his thumb in circles on Harry’s skin. “Because of him, all my opportunities were destroyed, and I have had to live my life in hiding. Fortunately, that has given me time to study Dumbledore; I know where each of his Horcruxes are, and how to destroy them. You were lucky I chose tonight to go after the locket, otherwise you would have drowned and your body remained forever undiscovered in those murky depths. Dumbledore will believe you to be dead now, so if you want to go into hiding, then I shall help you, but please, if you believe me, I could really do with your help in destroying these Horcruxes and bringing Dumbledore down. I will never be able to clear my name; the damage runs too deep, but I can stop the mindless killings.”
“I’ll help you,” Harry said, looking defiantly at Riddle. “I believe you.”
And Harry did believe him; he did not know whether he was just living out some strange nightmare, of if this was really happening, but all he knew was that Dumbledore had tried to kill him, but Tom Riddle had saved his life, and that told Harry all he needed.
X
“This is Bellatrix Lestrange,” Tom told Harry one day, gesturing towards a beautiful woman with heavy dark eyes and thick dark hair, and looking noticeably less crazy than the Bellatrix from the Ministry of Magic last year.
Tom had left the cave with Harry, and taken him to his hideout to rest in. Harry had gone straight to bed, and the next morning Tom had retrieved the locket. Tom informed him the Horcrux in it had been destroyed, but he had tried to keep the locket intact because it was a far too beautiful and authentic piece of jewellery to be destroyed. Tom had mused that the emeralds matched Harry’s eyes, and he wanted Harry to have it.
Harry hadn’t taken the locket off since, and the heavy weight around his neck was a comfort to him now.
Harry and Tom had spent the last week together, with Tom telling Harry more about his history. Apparently the memories Dumbledore had shown Harry were true, with Tom being raised in an orphanage after the death of his mother, but Tom showed Harry his own memories, where Dumbledore abused him for being Half-blood, and berated him for his intelligence, saying he would never be smarter or wiser than Dumbledore.
Tom had also given Harry a new wand, though it wasn’t as compatible with him as his old wand had been, but it was better than nothing. Tom giving Harry a wand, plus allowing him free reign of the hideout, made Harry feel very safe, and this Tom seemed far different than the Voldemort he had encountered before. He did, of course, get feelings of suspicion from time to time, but from Harry’s experience of Voldemort, he wouldn’t mess around; he would just rather torture Harry for a bit before killing him outright.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Bellatrix smiled at him.
“Bellatrix is another one of Dumbledore’s favourites to vilify,” Tom explained. “The Longbottoms were very respected Aurors, but, like your parents, they came too close to the truth, so he eliminated them by driving them into insanity.”
“Augusta Longbottom had been a dear friend of my mother’s at one point,” Bellatrix said sadly. “She was my idol, but she now believes me to be a monster.”
“Augusta is also protecting a Horcrux; the cup, although she isn’t aware about what is it,” Tom said, placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, which made Harry feel oddly warm on the inside and made his stomach flip. “Bellatrix wishes to apologise to Augusta, but this also presents us with the opportunity to retrieve the cup. Would you be able to write to Neville, telling him you are alive and to return to his grandmother’s house to meet you? I shall charm the letter so that only Neville can read it, and he will also be unable to speak of the content. Bellatrix can meet with Augusta then, and give a warning to Neville in the process, because Dumbledore will surely be after Neville next.”
Harry nodded, and had the letter written up in an hour
Two days later, Bellatrix returned with the cup, and Tom took it away to destroy it.
X
Tom suspected that one of Dumbledore’s Horcruxes was Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, and that it was hidden in Hogwarts.
“Is there anybody you trust completely within Hogwarts that could help? I would not advise Neville, because he has gone into hiding with his grandmother,” Tom said to Harry, looking thoughtful. Harry didn’t like it when Tom did that, because it was too easy to get distracted by Tom’s good looks. Harry had always had a vague awareness of being attracted to men as well as women, but Tom seemed to surpass anyone he had ever had a crush on before.
“Ron or Hermione,” Harry mused. “Hermione is a genius; I’m sure she’d know where to find the diadem. Or there’s Luna; she’s a Ravenclaw.”
“This Luna girl would likely be the best option,” Tom nodded. “Write to her, and I shall perform the same charms on the letters for you.”
Harry wrote the letter just as quickly as before, but Luna took three days to reply, by which point Harry was starting to get edgy. Harry never felt such relief when she finally sent a letter back, saying she had the diadem and needed to meet him somewhere. Tom told Harry it would be best for Harry to go alone, in case Tom’s presence spooked Luna, and Harry agreed it made a lot of sense.
Luna managed to leave Hogwarts at the weekend, and Harry met her in a pub in a Muggle town. He couldn’t help but embrace her as he saw her, and she hugged him back just as tightly.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” Luna said as they pulled apart. “Of course, we were all sad when we thought you were.”
“What did Dumbledore tell people?” Harry asked, and Luna smiled.
“That you had been killed doing something noble in an attempt to kill You-Know-Who,” Luna hummed. “I thought that was very boring; being killed by a Burrowing Dazzinger would be much more you.”
Harry didn’t know what a Burrowing Dazzinger was, but he was glad that Luna hadn’t changed now that everything else was messed up.
“Right,” Harry smirked. “So did you find the diadem okay?”
“Oh, yes; it was right in the Room of Hidden Things,” Luna nodded, reaching into her bag and handing the diadem over to Harry. “It was rather tricky to find, but Helena helped me. That’s the Grey Lady; she’s very shy, but I’m her friend.”
“Thank you, Luna,” Harry said, offering Luna a grateful smile. “Please don’t tell anyone I’m alive though. Except…”Harry paused, looking around to make sure nobody overheard them. “Maybe you could ask Ron, Hermione and Ginny if they want to go to the Burrow next weekend so I can meet them; just don’t tell them why or anything. It will be a nice surprise.”
X
Harry never got to see his friends and he never would again.
He and Luna had parted ways, and Harry had given the diadem to Tom, who had hugged him and left Harry feeling very flushed.
He didn’t mention that he had plans to go to the Burrow; he knew he could trust the Weasleys, but Tom might not be sure about it. Harry hadn’t planned to let that hold him back, however.
Just an hour before Harry planned to leave, Tom came to him, with a sombre expression on his face. He explained that the Weasley household had been ambushed, and every member killed, including Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Tom suspected Dumbledore himself had taken part in the murders.
Harry hadn’t stopped crying since Tom had told him, but the older man had sat with Harry the entire time, his arms wrapped protectively around him.
“Why did they need to die?” Harry cried, sobbing into Tom’s shoulder and shaking violently.
“Maybe we weren’t as careful as we thought,” Tom said quietly, rubbing circles on Harry’s back. “I’m sorry; perhaps my charms weren’t powerful enough or-“
“No, it was my fault,” Harry wailed. “I t-told Luna to tell them to go home so I could meet them; someone must have overheard and ran straight to Dumbledore.”
“Harry, don’t blame yourself,” Tom soothed. “I promise you we’ll get him for this.”
Harry nodded, looking up at Tom. The man was so handsome, so strong, and Harry couldn’t help himself as he tilted his head upwards and pressed his lips against Tom’s. He could feel tears dripping onto their lips but he didn’t care. He felt warm and safe with Tom, and kissing Tom seemed to be more important than breathing. Tom stiffened for just a moment, but then he was kissing Harry back, running his fingers through Harry’s hair, and for that moment, Harry was able to forget.
X
Two weeks had passed since the massacre of the Weasleys, and Harry and Tom hadn’t gotten anywhere with finding more Horcruxes. Tom had destroyed the others, but Tom said there was still the ring to go. He had destroyed the diary and the snake before he had met Harry.
“Dumbledore told me he had destroyed the ring,” Harry said, thinking back to when he had learnt about the Horcruxes, even though Dumbledore claimed to have forgotten the lesson. That was one of the reasons Harry still believed this to be a very long dream; Dumbledore seemed to have changed overnight, and his hand had healed, but the fact he had tried to kill Harry had put him right off the headmaster, nonetheless.
“I suppose we may have to end this then,” Tom mused, taking Harry’s hand in his. They hadn’t progressed past hand-holding and kissing, but Harry had been crawling into bed with Tom every night and falling asleep curled against him. “Are you ready for that? We can go in, destroy the ring, and kill Dumbledore. Nobody else needs to know, and nobody else needs to get hurt; we just need Dumbledore dead or he won’t stop his massacres.”
Harry nodded; he hadn’t ever really wanted to kill anybody; not even Voldemort really, but the deaths of the closest people he had to family could change a person.
“I’m ready,” Harry nodded, and the locket under his shirt seemed to thump with excitement.
“Perfect,” Tom smiled. He took Harry’s hand in his, but Harry hissed when something sharp slid across his skin. “Oh, I’m so sorry; I have sharp nails. I didn’t mean to-“ Tom apologised frantically, but Harry shook his head.
“Don’t worry; it was an accident,” Harry said softly, and Tom bowed his head, fumbling with the chain of the locket and pulling it over Harry’s shirt. He entwined their hands over the cold metal, and pressed his forehead against Harry’s.
“I promise I won’t hurt you, Harry,” Tom whispered, and Harry felt a sudden wave of tiredness wash over him. “Go to sleep; it will all be over soon.”
X
Getting into Hogwarts had been surprisingly easy.
The next day, Harry had suggested using the passageway under the Whomping Willow, and even Tom had been surprised that there was a way in from the Shrieking Shack. So once night fell, Harry, Tom, Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan journeyed to the Shrieking Shack, taking the bigger group in case some of Dumbledore’s followers were in the castle, and Tom said he had others on stand-by just in case they were needed.
“I won’t be letting you get injured or killed; I can’t lose you,” Tom had told Harry seriously, kissing him possessively.
Harry and Tom had gone separate ways from the Lestranges, and Harry had led Tom straight to the entrance of Dumbledore’s office.
“So all this took was an old passageway and the dead of night?” Tom mused amusedly to himself, as Harry told the statue the password, giving them access to Dumbledore’s office.
They hurried up the staircase, and when Harry kicked the door open, Dumbledore looked startled, dropping the book he was reading onto his desk.
“Harry?” Dumbledore gasped, looking frantically between Harry and Tom. “You’re alive?”
“No thanks to you,” Harry spat.
“I suppose you’ve come for the last Horcrux, have you?” Dumbledore smirked, holding up his hand to reveal the glinting ring. “I’m afraid the only way you’ll get this is to pry it from my cold, dead fingers.”
“That won’t be a problem,” Harry snarled, not noticing Tom was searching through Dumbledore’s cabinets. “How could you kill all those people? What did the Weasleys ever do to you? They were innocent.”
“Blood traitors,” Dumbledore answered simply with a dismissive wave of his hand.
Harry felt sick; how could Dumbledore, the man he respected so much, be such a vile character?
“Do it, Harry,” Tom hissed in his ear, suddenly behind him. Tom’s hand grasped Harry’s and raised his wand hand, aiming at Dumbledore. “Kill him; two simple words, and it all ends. Do it!”
The locket was shaking beneath his shirt, and his mind seemed clouded, his head light, as he heard the words ‘Avada Kedavra’ leave his mouth. The green light sped towards Dumbledore, the man appearing shocked as the light engulfed him, and he crumpled forwards onto his desk, suddenly very still.
The cloudiness seemed to leave Harry’s mind, and the shock of what happened began to rush over him in waves.
He fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around himself as he stared at Dumbledore’s body. Was that it? Was Dumbledore dead now, with no way to return once the ring was destroyed?
Tom hoisted him to his feet, and pushed Harry against a wall, kissing him furiously.
“We did it!” Tom grinned against his mouth.
“Tom?” Harry groaned, pushing at the man weakly, but Tom’s tongue was too sinfully delicious to say no to. His eyes trailed over to Dumbledore, and the reasons for Harry’s reluctance became strong once more. “We can’t-“
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Tom said. “I just got over-emotional; he’s caused me so much pain over the years, and to see him dead; well, I just felt so happy. Dumbledore is dead, and I have found somebody to love-“
“Love? You love me?” Harry cut in, looking at Tom hopefully. The man nodded shyly, and pressed a hand to the side of Harry’s face.
“I am in love with you, Harry. I just want to show you how much,” Tom whispered, kissing Harry once more, with a much more tender touch.
Harry wrapped his arms around Tom’s shoulders, shutting his eyes as to forget where they were.
“I love you too,” Harry whispered against Tom’s lips. “So, so much.”
Harry wrapped his legs around Tom’s waist, and shivered as Tom muttered a spell, leaving Harry’s clothes in a pool on the floor, and with the locket the only thing left on his body.
Tom pushed his finger into Harry’s mouth, and Harry sucked on the digit, shivering with anticipation as Tom moved his hand downed and pushed a finger inside of Harry.
Harry moaned as a second finger joined the first, scissoring in him.
“Are you sure you want this?” Tom said breathlessly, his eyes full of lust and adoration.
“Yes, yes,” Harry hissed, grinding against the fingers in him. He didn’t care where he was anymore; he just needed Tom.
Tom murmured another spell, and then he moved his fingers, pressing his cock at Harry’s entrance instead.
Tom swallowed Harry’s whimpers with a kiss as he pushed inside of him, and he began to thrust slowly in and out of Harry, picking up the pace as Harry’s hole stretched around the cock inside of him. It hurt, but Harry couldn’t even find it in him to care; he finally had Tom inside him.
“Tell me you love me,” Tom hissed, moving his head down to bite at Harry’s neck.
“I love you,” Harry groaned, shutting his eyes as his prostate was slammed into.
“Who do you belong to? Are you mine?” Tom said, and Harry nodded. “Tell me!” Tom pressed. “Tell me who you belong to.”
“You, I belong to you,” Harry panted as Tom ruthlessly pounded into him.
“Heart, mind and soul?” Tom whispered, biting down on Harry’s other shoulder.
“Yes, heart, mind and soul,” Harry shouted, not caring about anything but the sensations in his body. He needed Tom; he craved him. Tom was like a drug; part of Harry that he couldn’t be without. His whole body seemed to be throbbing, and he felt as though invisible strings were pulling him closer to Tom.
Tom’s hand closed around Harry’s erection, stroking him in time with each thrust.
“Come for me, pet,” Tom growled, and Harry did, spilling into Tom’s fist as Tom released inside him.
Harry gasped as a sudden pain hit Harry, and a white light engulfed him, blinding him.
He felt Tom pull out of him, and Harry stumbled to the floor. The locket seemed to tighten around him, viciously shaking against his skin.
The light started to fade away, and Harry looked up, yelping in shock at the sight.
Where Tom had been standing now stood Voldemort. Gone were the luscious black locks and handsome features, replaced with the strikingly white face, nose and lips non-existent. Voldemort looked down at Harry with a satisfied smirk on his face, and Harry felt as though his heart had snapped in two.
“What?” Harry gasped, but then he heard a groan coming from Dumbledore’s desk. The headmaster was slumped over the table, his blackened hand dangling off the edge. He shifted slightly, and Harry didn’t know whether he should be pleased that Dumbledore was alive.
“I should have known you would be too weak-minded to perform the Killing Curse correctly,” Voldemort hissed. “It’s no matter though; I’m glad he got to see his prized boy degraded.”
“You bastard!” Harry snarled, grabbing his wand and jumping to his feet, not caring that he was naked, or that he had no idea what was going on. “Crucio!” he yelled, knowing the rage and hatred inside of him would be sure to hurt Voldemort, only, the spell never got to the Dark wizard.
Instead, the red light reversed, hitting Harry with his own spell, and the teenager screamed as pain overtook him.
“You are a fool, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, stalking around the shaking boy as if he were eyeing his prey. “The power of love indeed.”
“Y-you better start talking sense,” Harry growled, his wand still shaking in his grip.
“Oh it all makes perfect sense,” Voldemort smiled coldly, watching Harry with emotionless eyes. “Your mind is so weak. I would have thought you would have tried Occlumency once more after your actions led to the death of your mutt godfather, but your stubbornness proved very useful to me. I was very fortunate that you provided my locket with your blood; it allowed me greater access to your mind. It was within your mind that I placed a scenario of your dear headmaster as a cruel, manipulative Dark lord, and your lack of control led you to become entranced. Nothing more than a pretty face and lies made from kind words had you entrapped in my grip, and the locket allowed me even greater control over you; every decision and thought you had was influenced by me.”
Harry didn’t know what to do. He wanted to cry, to stab Voldemort in the face with a rusty knife, to throw himself off the Astronomy Tower. How could he have let this happen? Did he really fall for Voldemort’s mind games? He thought of eleven year-old Ginny throwing off the power of the diary’s possession, while he couldn’t fight Voldemort, even after knowing he could have learnt Occlumency to sever the connection between him and Voldemort.
“You proved very useful in helping me achieve everything I needed to ensure a victory in the war,” Voldemort continued, moving to Dumbledore and rolling the man onto his back. A swoosh clicked through the air, and then a blade was impaled in Dumbledore, causing the man to snap his eyes open and gasp. “Before you die, Dumbledore, you must hear the rest,” Voldemort mocked. “I retrieved the locket with the help of the Black House-elf, thanks to orders from Bellatrix. Bellatrix retrieved the cup from her vault at Gringotts, and then tortured and killed Augusta and Neville Longbottom, removing the other Prophecy child for good. I saw in your mind you requested your friends to return to their home, which provided me a perfect opportunity to dispose of a key Light family. All my Horcruxes have been retrieved, and have been placed into safety, and once Dumbledore is dead, there is nobody who will dare defy me.”
“There will always be someone to defy you,” Dumbledore croaked weakly.
“Fool!” Voldemort snapped. “There is no-one; not when the great Harry Potter will be by my side.”
“I’ll never join you,” Harry spat. “Either you can kill me, or I’ll kill myself; I’d rather do that than serve you.”
“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter, pet,” Voldemort said gently, and he smirked at Harry wickedly. “Dumbledore often told me how powerful love was, and how it would beat me, but it can’t beat me if I harnessed the power of love myself. It was very easy to make you fall, Harry Potter. I know my past self was handsome, and soft words and light touches were all I needed to make you give your heart to me. I had originally planned to kill you once you learnt the truth, so you could die knowing that you had been wrong all these years, but when I was examining Dumbledore’s Pensieve, I learnt some very interesting information about you. Would you like to tell him, Dumbledore?”
Harry looked towards Dumbledore, who looked straight back at him. A single tear fell from Dumbledore’s eye, but his voice was calm as he spoke. “You are a Horcrux, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “One Voldemort never intended to make. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“And Dumbledore expected you to sacrifice yourself, so that someone else could kill me once you were gone,” Voldemort finished for Dumbledore. “As I can no longer kill you without killing part of my own self, I instead chose to bind you to me. You sold your heart, mind and soul to me; you are mine for the rest of time.”
“No,” Harry whispered, clutching at his head with his hands. “No! No! This can’t be happening. Please, professor, say this is wrong.”
“I’m sorry, Harry,” Dumbledore said softly. “I have let you down.”
Harry screamed, slamming his fist on the floor.
A flash of green lit up the room, and then Dumbledore’s body rolled in front of him, this time never to move again.
Voldemort crouched down beside Harry and gathered him into his arms. Harry fought against the grip, but Voldemort was far stronger than he was, and Harry sagged pathetically in Voldemort’s arms, the weight of reality crashing over him. Harry had lost. He hadn’t learnt from his mistake with Sirius, and now he had lost. Everyone he cared about was dead, the Wizarding World was ready for Voldemort to take, and all because Harry had left his mind open to Voldemort’s attack, and Voldemort had taken advantage of him in every way possible. He couldn’t even hurt Voldemort without it hurting him, but maybe that was a good thing. Maybe Harry could hurt himself until all the pain went away.
“I loved you,” Harry murmured, tears splashing onto his bare legs.
“And that is where you went wrong,” Voldemort mocked, forcing Harry to stand with him. “Love may have saved you once, but love is nothing but a game for fools. You played the game with a cheater, and you paid for that. You mustn’t worry, pet; you are mine now, and I take care of what is mine.”
30st March, 2000
Voldemort lounged back on his chair, running his long, pale fingers through the tatty hair of his pet, who was kneeling naked on the floor, resting his head on Voldemort’s thigh.
After the death of Dumbledore, the Wizarding World had soon crumbled at Voldemort’s feet. The Ministry had been taken over, as had Hogwarts, and the elimination of Mudbloods and blood-traitors had now been completed.
Harry Potter was no more; he was simply known as ‘Pet’. Naturally, the boy hadn’t given in without a fight at first. He may have bonded himself to Voldemort, but that hadn’t stopped him trying to fight the bond off. He had also tried to escape on a number of occasions, and told Voldemort numerous times that he’d kill himself the first chance he got, but Voldemort never let Pet out of his sight.
Things were different now though. Pet had been fun to break, and Voldemort had taken pleasure in doing it. Voldemort had raped him, held back food and water until Pet reached desperation point, and refused the boy contact with anyone else. He only spoke to Pet in Parseltongue, and punished Pet when he spoke in English.
Pet’s mind had soon broken, and now he was Voldemort’s completely.
Voldemort had achieved everything he had wanted, and Harry Potter was the prize on top.
Dumbledore always believed that Voldemort’s downfall would be love, but Dumbledore never realised that love was ripe for manipulation.
He had played Harry Potter’s heart like a violin, and in the end, all he had to do was cut the strings.
The End