This idea came to me a few days ago while I was working on a math problem. Not the most inspiring story about an idea, but hey, I thought it was fairly good. When I told it to a friend of mine, she was officially freaked out. To her, it was just wrong. So, naturally, I wrote it.
Disclaimer: Pryotra doesn't own Harry Potter, or any of it's characters. This disclaimer applies to all chapters.
Summery: fifth year AU: Tom Riddle has been trapped in his own head by Voldemort for fifty years. Now, with the help a potion, Tom has separated and gained a body of his own. He will now do anything to become strong enough to fight against Voldemort on his own, prophecy or no. He returns to Hogwarts, but what he didn't count on was the intervention of Umbridge, who seems bent on not teaching them anything, Ginny Weasley, who knows there's a connection between Tom and Voldemort,, and a plot to erase the memories of nearly everyone at Hogwarts.
Couples: Eventual TomHermione HarryLuna RonPansy and DracoGinny
Warnings: Blood, violence, sarcasm, and some alcohol.
The most disturbing thing that I have to put up with in the morning is Voldemort's face. That is normally the very first thing I see, since he wakes up earlier then I do. I always want to cry out when I see two glowing red eyes staring back at me along with no distinguishable nose, and skin that looks like someone was crossed with a snake and then hit by a train. Then I remember that it's not my face.
Well, actually it is, but not really.
My name is Tom Riddle, and I am not Lord Voldemort.
I suppose I'm still fifteen, since that was the time when I was originally possessed by him, and I don't feel like I've aged much. Other then, of course, I've been watching things out of Voldemort's eyes for the past fifty or so years. I can't do anything about it. I've tried, trust me. Sometimes if I put enough effort into it, I can restrain his actions for a sort amount of time, but it's only temporary. I can also, if he's sleeping hard enough, take control of a hand for a while. It hasn't happened lately, since I tried to kill myself with my own wand once.
For some reason, he seemed to take it as a threat to his life.
I've only been able to restrain him a few times, that latest was when Potter was making a mad dash for his life back to that portkey with the body of his friend. It hurts after a while, and then I start feeling light headed, so I have to let go. Thankfully (for me) there's nothing that Voldemort can do to kill me. Or at least, he doesn't know anything that can kill me.
There is one single somewhat okay thing about being a prisoner inside of my own mind, and that is that I never get physically tired. I get mentally tired, and I get bored. Voldemort has been able to shut my voice out for quite a while now, so I don't even get to harass him anymore. It's gets boring after the first three years of not being able to do anything. Truthfully, it's enough to drive someone insane, but I don't have time for insanity.
I have a little matter of revenge to take care of.
I suppose that that's where this story starts. One summer morning about a month after Voldemort regenerated. I woke up to his charming face as usual, and would have done something along the lines of blink, rub my eyes and try to pass it off as a bad dream if I had been able to control my body. I'm not really a morning person, and even though I've been living like this for fifty years I'm still groggy in the morning.
Voldemort was pleased with his appearance. I could feel his pleasure at the triumph of having his body back. He had been gloating about it even since he had gotten it, so that was nothing new.
Nagini, his freakishly large snake familiar, had decided to coil up on around the foot of the dresser where the mirror was, and was cooing to him.
No, I mean literally cooing. It's really disturbing to think of, but Nagini seems to have developed some sort of weird attachment to him.
"Master, Snape has returned to us, and Malfoy is also waiting," Nagini said after a long series of 'good morning' hisses.
That was interesting. Snape has been spying on Dumbledore for the past who-knows-how-long. There is also a very good change that he might be a spy for Dumbledore. What's funny is that Voldemort knows this, I know this, even Snape knows we know this, but for some reason Voldemort keeps him around. At least it's fun to watch them dance in circles around one another.
Lucius Malfoy was probably Voldemort's perfect Death Eater. He was ambitious, clever, and would stab Voldemort in the back given half a change. The only reason he was even alive was because he had such useful connections. His son is just like him, what I've seen of him. I never caught his name, so I always ended up knowing him as Mini Mal.
"Thank you, Nagini," Voldemort hissed, in English. That snake is that only living creature I have ever heard him say 'thank you' to. I guess if you are part snake already, you might as well be polite to the real ones. Either that or they have some sort of relationship that I don't know about (or what to).
Voldemort looked around the room thoughtfully. It wasn't really much of a room. The grayish wooden walls were rotten and there was a slight draft that came in. The Death Eaters were constantly complaining about it. The floor creaked with every step that Voldemort took and the sheets on the bed were old and torn. He had been living here for about a week. Voldemort usually takes refuge in abandoned houses of his victims. It seems to give him some sort of satisfaction. This house had belonged to the Bones family. It hadn't been lived in for a while, but the Death Eaters had done their best to make it somewhat acceptable to the Dark Lord. That was difficult since the Death Eaters had tried to burn the place.
His eyes traveled to the window. It was late afternoon already, and the setting sun cast long shadows over the wall. Voldemort is mostly nocturnal by habit. It either because he is naturally nocturnal, or it makes him feel like he's living up to some 'evil Dark Lord' image.
I have gotten a little cynical over the years.
He opened the creaking, blackened door and walked down the stairs to his 'meeting room' formerly known as the Bones' sitting room. The portrats that hadn't been burned and didn't seem able to be destroyed in any way hissed insults at him. Good for Voldemort most of their other portraits were in abandoned houses too. They would have told the living people in the houses were Voldemort was immediately. As he passed the kitchen I could hear the sounds of someone, probably Wormtail, trying to make a hangover potion. He's been drinking a lot lately, ever since he lost his hand.
Voldemort ignored the sound. He didn't care if his Death Eaters got drunk, as long as they could still follow orders while they were drunk. In fact, Crabbe and Goyle were actually more useful when they were drunk. They would crash into convenient things and cause more destruction then when they were sober.
He opened the door to the room where Malfoy and Snape was waiting. They were both standing at attention, and bowed low as Voldemort came in. Once he had stopped they kissed the hem of his robe.
"My Lord," they greeted in unison.
"Stand up, Severus, Lucius" Voldemort said in a quite whisper, "what news have you brought me?"
"My Lord, the potions that you spoke of do exist," Snape said.
This must have happened while I was sleeping, or maybe Voldemort blocked my awareness again. That happens sometimes, and when it does, I can't remember anything that happened during that time. It hadn't happened recently, so I was slightly surprised that he had done it again. Normally, he didn't even bother. I wasn't like I was going to do anything about his plans.
I guess it just made him feel powerful to do that every so often. Just to prove that he was in control.
"Excellent," Voldemort drawled, "This body is weak and new, and that potion will overcome that problem. How long will they take to brew?"
"I have a sample of each with me, My Lord," Snape kissed up to him wonderfully.
"Good," Voldemort purred, "Show them to me."
"My Lord, I fear that both may have unforeseen side effects…" Snape began.
So he was nervous about something. I wondered what it was.
Voldemort didn't show his annoyance, but his eyes were probably more red then usual. He was silent and waited for Snape to say something else. Snape looked a little bit nervous, but not that nervous.
"My Lord, both potions are unlike anything that I have ever seen. I would not chance to give you the first if there was even a slight chance that something unexpected would happen," Snape told him, "Both potions have the potential to effect different people in different ways. It might prove to be more dangerous then we ever could have thought."
"In what ways?" Malfoy asked curiously. That guy would definitely what to know that. He might want to use them for something.
"I'm waiting, Severus," Voldemort said calmly.
"The yellow potion has the ability to give your body more power and energy, My Lord," Snape began, "but it might also give you short bursts of energy, but leave you in a weakened state if it is not brewed perfectly, or it may have an effect on your mind. It has the base of another potion that can separate a person into the many aspects of their personality."
I was very interested in that. If Snape could brew a potion that could spilt someone's personality, then…
"The other potion has never been brewed before. It has existed in theory for centuries, but there is no way to tell for certain if it will have the effect that was described unless with test it on someone."
"I want to see the first potion," Voldemort ordered, "I can tell if it was brewed right, or if you, Severus, are afraid to see Lord Voldemort at his true power once again."
"My Lord," Snape began, "there is nothing that I haven't wished for more fondly then to see you crush all who oppose you."
That was true enough. Snape uses Occlumency against Voldemort, but sometimes he had caught a glimpse of whether he's lying or not.
Voldemort smirked slightly in response.
"My Lord," Malfoy said, taking advantage of the silence to give his report, "I have received word that Harry Potter was attacked by dementors…but I know that it was not on your orders…"
"Also, Durmstrang has suffered from an unexplained fire, and much of their records have been damaged along with a great deal of the school. Many of the students fled the fire and are still at large. Some of the records that were burnt might have shone where the traitor Karkarof fled to."
"That means nothing. I have little interest in him now," Voldemort told them, "Did Potter survive?"
"Good…I wanted to finish him myself."
Hear that, Potter? You're going to be killed by Voldemort personally. He considers that a great honor.
"Severus, show me the potion," Voldemort said rounding back on Snape.
For a minute he hesitated.
"You heard me, Severus."
Snape nodded and reached into his robes.
"The other potion is downstairs," he said, producing a small vial with a bright, sunshine yellow potion in it.
Voldemort took the potion and examined it, but before he could say anything else, some of the other Death Eaters who had been summoned for this meeting Apparated into the room, and walked through the doors.
Avery, Wormtail (who was staggering), Crabbe, and Rookswood each preformed the ceremonial greeting, and stood in their appropriate places. Voldemort looked at all of them without one emotion on his face.
"Where are Knot, Goyle, and Lenore?" he asked evenly.
At that moment, Knot appeared in the room.
"My Lord," he gasped out after clumsily going through the greeting, "Harry Potter was attacked by dementors!"
"I know," Voldemort said, "There are more important matters to-"
"My Lord," Goyle slurred appearing and giving a hasty greeting, "Potter's been-"
"Attacked by dementors," Voldemort said in an increasingly dangerous voice, "I don't care-"
"My Lord," Lenoir said, without waiting to greet anyone, "Potter's been-"
And that was the end of Lenoir.
"If someone so much as peeps…" Voldemort whispered. He was mad, he was using modern phrases.
Peep, I said.
That was strange. Normally, I couldn't do that. He must have been weaker or more angry then I thought.
The mental blast that greeted that word would have killed me, if he could have. All it did was leave me unable to do anything, even really think straight.
"If we are through with interruptions," Voldemort said calmly.
There wasn't a sound.
"Good, Severus, the potion is well brewed, you have the Dark Lord's gratitude," Voldemort said, removing the cork and taking a deep drink of the potion, "The fire at Durmstrang means nothing to us. It is only one more thing to keep the Ministry of Magic occupied. They are already doing their best to say that Potter is lying. Lucius, how are your efforts in the Ministry coming?"
"I am no closer to the Department of Mysteries then I was at our last meeting, but I have been able to use my influence to further discredit Potter," Malfoy told them.
"Work harder, Malfoy," Snape muttered, "we need that prophecy."
Oh, yeah, that. Voldemort seems to think that there is a prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. I know that he's been sending any Death Eater that has any kind of connection with the Ministry of Magic to find it. From what I know, it's something to due with Potter and how he's supposed to defeat Voldemort. I'm not sure how. After all, I can't leave this body.
The Death Eaters continued to talk about the prophecy. Wormtail slurred out some words that might have had something to do with how much he missed his hand, but no one paid too much attention. Malfoy and Snape were giving one another looks of something close to hatred. It was rather ironic since Snape was Mini Mal's godfather. I guess the two had had a falling out…
Voldemort continued talking about his prophecy, and everyone knew better then to not pay attention. People who were caught daydreaming or thinking too much were subjected to 'Crucio'.
I was starting to feel…strange. Not like I-am-the-only-person-who-actually-finds-Polka-cool more of the my-stomach-feels-like-I-have-a-hole-in-it kind of strange. I hadn't felt much of anything for a long time, so I noticed it right away. It wasn't the same feeling that I got from restraining Voldemort. That was painful. This was simply weird feeling.
I really wanted Voldemort to shut up so that I could think about what was happening. He was glaring at his Death Eaters. Wormtail had just said something stupid, and I was thinking of just killing him. His red eyes were really glowing now.
If I was in his head, or he was in my head…how could I tell what his eyes were doing?
This is all I could think of for the first chapter. I hope that it's been good. I really enjoyed Tom's point of view. It's refreshing for some odd reason.
Also, for all those who are feeling inspired at the moment, I have a challenge for you:
The Split Challenge:
Summery: AU HBP After drinking a experimental potion, Draco Malfoy is split into two people because of the two sides of his personality. The first has every one of Draco's memories, and all of his normal personality traits, pride, ambition, ruthlessness. The second has no memory of anything, and retains all of the personality traits that he subdued kindness, bravery, open-mindedness . How will this effect the outcome of Voldemort's order to kill Dumbledore?
Rules: This can end anyway you want
There can be no slash
The rating cannot be above T
The pairings can be anything you want (other then slash)
If you choose to take up this challenge please E-mail me and send me a link. I will definitely read it.
Tell me what you think!