#human horcruxes

[hp-shippy-prompts]

Prompt:

After the success of creating a living Horcrux, Nagini, Voldemort begins to contemplate creating a human Horcrux, giving him a servant even more useful than his Death Eaters.

The one he considers? Severus Snape.

Snape has already proven himself powerful, resourceful, and clever, as proven by the way he’s managed to straddle both sides of the war so he will always be on the winning side - and self preservation is a desirable attribute to a potential Horcrux. As well as this, having him as his Horcrux will allow him to bypass his mental defenses, giving him unbridled access to the man’s thoughts and motives, just as he enjoys with Nagini.

Yes... Severus would be the perfect subject to become his human Horcrux... 😏

(Harry: 😧)

[vashhanamichi]

the absolute angel @shelter-maki0 drew these beautiful masterpieces inspired by my fanfics Contrapasso and Mary Magdalene. I can't describe how touched I am. @shelter-maki0, to me, is probably the greatest Tomharrymort artist there is and her works, that always look haunting and fairy-tale like, inspire me endlessly. These are so beautiful and I can't stop looking at them. 私は光栄です。どうもありがとうございます！

[izharmilgram]

born hungry.

[slitheringghost]

Hermione As Teacher And Connections To Lily

An interesting narrative thread is how often Hermione's magic and teaching influences other characters' and how often it goes unrecognized, and particularly how it parallels a lot of Lily's own magic saving Harry from Voldemort. (Read on Ao3)

1. Triwizard Tournament

Summoning Charm

he did so badly at Summoning Charms in Professor Flitwick’s class that he was given extra homework — the only person to get any, apart from Neville. “It’s really not that difficult, Harry,” Hermione tried to reassure him [...] — she had been making objects zoom across the room to her all lesson, as though she were some sort of weird magnet [...] “You just weren’t concentrating properly —” (Ch 18, GoF)

Harry still hadn’t mastered Summoning Charms, he seemed to have developed something of a block about them, and Hermione insisted that learning the theory would help. They consequently spent a lot of time poring over books during their lunchtimes (Ch 19, GoF)

“Hermione, I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon.” And so they practiced. They didn’t have lunch, but headed for a free classroom [...] At two o’clock in the morning, Harry stood near the fireplace, surrounded by heaps of objects [...] Only in the last hour had Harry really got the hang of the Summoning Charm. “That’s better, Harry, that’s loads better,” Hermione said, looking exhausted but very pleased. (Ch 20, GoF)

Flitwick then spends most of a lesson "talking to Harry about the perfect Summoning Charm Harry had used during the First Task".

1.2 Shield Charm

(Full analysis of the Shield Charm and how it's textually linked to Lily is in my meta When Lily Cast Her Life As A Shield)

He was still having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. This was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall around himself that deflected minor curses [...] “You’re still doing really well, though,” Hermione said encouragingly, looking down her list and crossing off those spells they had already learned. “Some of these are bound to come in handy.” [...] Come on, Harry,” she added briskly [...] “let’s try that Shield Charm again.” (Ch 31, GoF)

Which Harry then teaches the DA:

He was improving so fast it was quite unnerving and when Harry taught them the Shield Charm, [...] only Hermione mastered the charm faster than Neville. (Ch 25, OoTP)

Then, what Fred and George say makes the real money in the joke shop:

“We’ve just developed this more serious line,” said Fred. “Funny how it happened...” “You wouldn’t believe how many people, even people who work at the Ministry, can’t do a decent Shield Charm,” said George. “’Course, they didn’t have you teaching them, Harry.” “That’s right... Well, we thought Shield Hats were a bit of a laugh, you know, challenge your mate to jinx you while wearing it and watch his face when the jinx just bounces off. But the Ministry bought five hundred for all its support staff! And we’re still getting massive orders!” “So we’ve expanded into a range of Shield Cloaks, Shield Gloves...” “...I mean, they wouldn’t help much against the Unforgivable Curses, but for minor to moderate hexes or jinxes...” (Ch 6, HBP) Although Snape did not know it, Harry had taught at least half the class (everyone who had been a member of the D.A.) how to perform a Shield Charm the previous year. None of them had ever cast the charm without speaking, however. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued [...] Typically, ten minutes into the lesson Hermione managed to repel Neville’s muttered Jelly-Legs Jinx without uttering a single word (Ch 9, HBP)

I love that Harry is then the one to teach Hermione the Patronus Charm - which Remus tells Harry is "a kind of anti-dementor - a guardian that acts as a shield between you and the dementor".

1.3 Four-Point Spell

and the Four-Point Spell, a useful discovery of Hermione’s that would make his wand point due north, therefore enabling him to check whether he was going in the right direction within the maze. (Ch 31, GoF)

“Point Me,” he whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his palm. The wand spun around once and pointed toward his right, into solid hedge. (Ch 31, GoF)

It's reasonable to extrapolate that the spell is Hermione's invention, given that it's the only spell with an English incantation, and inventions are referred to as "discoveries" several times - Remus wrt the Wolfsbane Potion in PoA, Dumbledore's work ("the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon’s blood", "does Skeeter deny the brilliance that led to Dumbledore’s many magical discoveries?"), Harry has to "memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions" and mentions books titled "Important Modern Magical Discoveries and A Study of Recent Developments in Wizardry", Fred says they "spent six months developing" the Ton-Tongue Toffees, etc.

Hermione inventing this is particularly compelling given that it's similar to what Harry's wand does in DH (related to Lily's spellwork deflecting the Killing Curse), and Harry's conflict with her after she breaks his wand.

[...] his wand acted of its own accord. He felt it drag his hand around like some great magnet, saw a spurt of golden fire through his half-closed eyelids, heard a crack and a scream of fury. (Ch 4, DH) He knew exactly what Hermione would say if he expressed any of this: The wand is only as good as the wizard. But she was wrong, his case was different. She had not felt the wand spin like the needle of a compass and shoot golden flames at his enemy. (Ch 18, DH)

Also notable is Hermione solving Snape's Potions riddle, and Harry echoing this with solving the Sphinx riddle during the Third Task (Harry thinking “it was Hermione who was good at this sort of thing, not him” and then “amazed at his own brilliance” when he solves it).

2. Other examples

2.1 Impervius Charm

“I’ve got no chance with these on,” Harry said exasperatedly, waving his glasses. At that very moment, Hermione appeared at his shoulder; she was holding her cloak over her head and was, inexplicably, beaming. “I’ve had an idea, Harry! Give me your glasses, quick!” He handed them to her, and as the team watched in amazement, Hermione tapped them with her wand and said, “Impervius!” “There!” she said [...] “They’ll repel water!” Wood looked as though he could have kissed her. “Brilliant!” he called hoarsely after her [...] Hermione’s spell had done the trick. (Ch 9, PoA) "Harry, didn’t you do something to your glasses to stop the rain fogging them up when we played Hufflepuff in that storm?” “Hermione did it,” said Harry. He pulled out his wand, tapped his glasses and said, “Impervius!” “I think we all ought to try that,” said Angelina. “[...] all together, come on — Impervius!" (Ch 18, OoTP)

Additionally, when Padfoot comes to watch during that PoA match and dementors swarm the field, making Harry hear Lily's murder for the first time, Harry falls from his broom, his Nimbus crashes into the Whomping Willow, others say they thought he was dead and "Lucky the ground was so soft" - of course, it wasn't luck, it was Dumbledore; Hermione then repeats these actions in DH - during the waterfall in the Thief's Downfall (evokes the drowning feeling from dementors; and Hermione additionally uses the Shield Charm there) and immediately after they escape LV in Godric’s Hollow and Harry finally gets the full memory of Lily's death (Hermione’s eyes being emphasized):

“Dumbledore was really angry,” Hermione said in a quaking voice. “I’ve never seen him like that before. He ran onto the field as you fell, waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down before you hit the ground. Then he whirled his wand at the dementors. Shot silver stuff at them. They left the stadium right away [...]" “Then he magicked you onto a stretcher,” said Ron. “And walked up to school with you floating on it. Everyone thought you were...” (Ch 9, PoA) “Yes,” said Hermione. “I had to use a Hover Charm to get you into your bunk, I couldn't lift you [...]" There were purple shadows under her brown eyes and he noticed a small sponge in her hand: She had been wiping his face. (Ch 17, DH) Water filled Harry’s eyes and mouth: He could not see or breathe: [...] Harry heard the cart smash into pieces against the passage wall, heard Hermione shriek something, and felt himself glide back toward the ground as though weightless, landing painlessly on the rocky passage floor. “C-Cushioning Charm,” Hermione spluttered (Ch 26, DH)

2.2 Murtlap Essence

During that PoA practice, Fred and George were debating using Fever Fudge to get out of flying:

“— but you get these massive pus-filled boils too,” said George, “and we haven’t worked out how to get rid of them yet.” “I can’t see any boils,” said Ron, staring at the twins. “No, well, you wouldn’t,” said Fred darkly, “they’re not in a place we generally display to the public —” “— but they make sitting on a broom a right pain in the —” (Ch 18, OoTP)

The knowledge Hermione uses to heal the I must not tell lies scar on Harry's hand helps the twins finish the Snackboxes:

“Here,” she said anxiously, pushing a small bowl of yellow liquid toward him, “soak your hand in that, it’s a solution of strained and pickled murtlap tentacles, it should help.” Harry placed his bleeding, aching hand into the bowl and experienced a wonderful feeling of relief. (Ch 15, OoTP) When Harry next saw Lee, the back of his hand was bleeding rather badly. Harry recommended essence of murtlap. (Ch 25, OoTP) Hermione cast him a stern look. “You’ve got exams coming!” “Told you already, we’re not fussed about N.E.W.T.s,” said Fred. “The Snackboxes are ready to roll, we found out how to get rid of those boils, just a couple of drops of murtlap essence sorts them, Lee put us onto it...” (Ch 26, OoTP)

2.3 Magical Eavesdropping Methods

Harry frankly marveled at the fact that Hermione could research magical methods of eavesdropping as well as everything else they had to do. (Ch 28, GoF)

People have theorized that Hermione’s research while she was taking revenge against Rita Skeeter may have aided Fred and George develop the Extendable Ears, esp. since she was staying at 12GP that summer.

2.4 DA Galleons

Hermione's inspired by Voldemort's magic to invent the DA's communication method; Draco then gets the idea from that to carry out his Death Eater mission, enchanting his own coins to secretly communicate with Rosmerta, and also gets the idea to poison the mead from Hermione, having "heard her talking in the library about Filch not recognizing potions".

“You know what these remind me of?” “No, what’s that?” “The Death Eaters’ scars. Voldemort touches one of them, and all their scars burn, and they know they’ve got to join him.” “Well... yes,” said Hermione quietly. “That is where I got the idea... but you’ll notice I decided to engrave the date on bits of metal rather than on our members’ skin...” “Yeah... I prefer your way,” said Harry, grinning, as he slipped his Galleon into his pocket. (Ch 19, OoTP)

Notably, Lily's blood magic - unlike Hermione's and very like Voldemort's - does burn Voldemort's skin.

Similarly significant is Hermione's invention of the SNEAK curse - where the DA members all sign the binding contract in the Hog's Head, the same establishment where Trelawney gave the prophecy, and the binding contract incorporated in Lily's magic. Hermione enchants ~28 coins for the whole DA and creates the curse within the span of ~a month.

2.5 O.W.L. exam

Three rows to his right and four seats ahead, Hermione was already scribbling… He lowered his eyes to the first question: a) Give the incantation, and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly... Harry had a fleeting memory of a club soaring high into the air and landing loudly on the thick skull of a troll... Smiling slightly, he bent over the paper and began to write

On the whole Harry thought it went rather well; his Levitation Charm was certainly much better than Malfoy’s had been, though he wished he had not mixed up the incantations for Color-Change and Growth Charms (Ch 31, OoTP) the exam to which Harry was looking forward least and which he was sure would be the one that would be the downfall of his ambitions to become an Auror. Sure enough, he found the written exam difficult, though he thought he might have got full marks on the question about Polyjuice Potion: He could describe its effects extremely accurately, having taken it illegally in his second year. (Ch 31, OoTP)

Hermione is linked to Harry's Charms and Potions exams, the subjects most directly tied to Lily. Important to note that Professor Marchbanks praises Dumbledore for having “done things with a wand I’d never seen before” during his Charms and Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s - which Hermione didn't get to take 'cause of the war; and Harry and Neville are acknowledged as doing better in Potions without Snape's presence - clearly true of Hermione's potential too as her best accomplishment was brewing a N.E.W.T. level potion second year, outside Snape's supervision (which took a month, and then she spent 2 months in the hospital due to petrification/Polyjuice turning her into a cat).

2.6 Body Bind Curse

Harry turned to Hermione. “Do something,” he said desperately. [...] “Neville,” she said, “I’m really, really sorry about this.” “Petrificus Totalus!” she cried [...] Neville’s arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board. [...] “What’ve you done to him?” Harry whispered. “It’s the full Body-Bind,” said Hermione miserably. (PS)

Interestingly, Harry instinctively copies what he saw of Sirius in SWM during the DoM sequence, using the full Body Bind for the first time (at least, that we see on screen). Hermione compliments Harry on it, calling back to her being the first one to show him first year - and her being cursed right after echoes the description of Sirius falling through the veil: "the second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest", his eyes widening in shock and the "look of mingled fear and surprise".

Sirius said, “Petrificus Totalus!” and Snape keeled over again at once, rigid as a board. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily. (Ch 28, OoTP) “Petrificus Totalus!” shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand [...] “Well done, Ha —” But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione’s chest; she gave a tiny “oh!” as though of surprise and then crumpled onto the floor (Ch 35, OoTP) Harry seized his chance: “PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!” The spell hit Dolohov before he could block it, and he toppled forward across his comrade, both of them rigid as boards and unable to move an inch. (Ch 35, OoTP) Springing up, Harry yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” Once again, Dolohov’s arms and legs snapped together and he keeled over backward, landing with a crash on his back. “Nice one!” shouted Sirius, forcing Harry’s head down [...] (Ch 35, OoTP)

2.7 Unbreakable Charm

Not something Hermione specifically taught, but also interesting is Hermione mirroring Barty Crouch Jr. during his Unforgivables lesson (and saying Harry gave her the idea when he mentioned "bugging").

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. (Ch 14, GoF)

“Oh not electronic bugs [...] Rita Skeeter [...] is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn —” Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. “— into a beetle.” [...] Inside were a few twigs and leaves and one large, fat beetle [...] Hermione took the glass jar back from Ron and smiled at the beetle, which buzzed angrily against the glass. [...] “I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.” (Ch 37, GoF)

Hermione imprisoning Rita Skeeter in a jar vaguely references Lily and Harry's actions in 1981 leading to an "imprisoned" LV in Albania; this also happens a few chapters after Priori Incantatem, and Harry and LV under the web of light evokes insects trapped underneath glass:

The golden thread connecting Harry and Voldemort splintered; though the wands remained connected, a thousand more beams arced high over Harry and Voldemort, crisscrossing all around them, until they were enclosed in a golden, dome-shaped web, a cage of light, beyond which the Death Eaters circled like jackals, their cries strangely muffled now... “Do nothing!” Voldemort shrieked to the Death Eaters, and Harry saw his red eyes wide with astonishment at what was happening, saw him fighting to break the thread of light [...] and the golden thread remained unbroken. “Do nothing unless I command you!” (Ch 34, GoF)

Then the phoenix song comes from "every thread of the light-spun web vibrating around Harry and Voldemort", and a voice saying Don't break the connection (elaborated here).

3.0 Blasting Curse

All this comes full circle in the Godric's Hollow graveyard in DH (a deeper analysis also for another post), where Hermione mirrors what Harry did because of Lily as a baby (and also Harry's actions at the start of DH while flying during the Battle of the Seven Potters): blows up the house (“Confringo") and enrages Voldemort as she and Harry fly out the window - fly from death - together.

[fangirl-on-the-hellmouth]

Can we talk about how annoyingly unspecific horcrux instructions were in the book (it's been a while since I read them and idk if the movie added anything to it so disregard if im way off) but the Harry Potter books just said that taking a life allowed someone to split their soul. We know that Voldemort killed 7 people to split his soul 7 times (and dont get me started on how they assumed he just had 7 horcruxes), but there were no further instructions. Was there a follow up spell that had to be performed to finish the ritual? Did Voldemort just shove his hand in his chest, drag a piece out and say voila?

[incorrect-fanfiction-quotes]

Voldemort: I haven’t taken Harry Potter captive! Whatever gave you that idea? He’s my permanent guest.

Harry: Don’t think that just because you don’t let me use forks anymore that I won’t find something to stab you with.

[disorganizedkitten]

Me: starts referencing something in a fandom

Other fans: DK what are you talking about

Me: you know? The thing

Them: that... didn't happen

I can’t be the only fanfic writer who’s forgotten what details are canon and what’s just dumb shit I made up.

[moondustinfj]

James: He hates me! Why does your uncle hate me Sirius??

Sirius: Oh...Because I told him you were the one who smoked pot in my room when I visited him in 5th year

James: WHAT??

Regulus *coming inside* : Hey, what's going on?

James: Sirius told Alphard that I smoked pot in Sirius' room in 5th year!

Regulus: What? Were you even there?

Sirius: ...I told him he flew out of the window

James: And why did he believe it?

Sirius: Because I told him what an excellent quidditch player you are :)

James: awwww :) you really-

Regulus: NO. Don't even start. Sirius, James and I are supposed to tell him that we live together TODAY and we can't do that if he hates James!

Sirius: Okay! Okay...I'll tell him.

(1 hour later)

Regulus: So. Did you tell him?

Sirius: Yeah about that. I was thinking of maybe writing him a letter-

Regulus: Okay you know what? You had your chance.

Regulus *goes up to Alphard*: Uncle. James didn't smoke pot in 5th year, Sirius did.

Sirius: YOU ARE SUCH A TATTLETALE!!

Alphard: Is this true Sirius?

Sirius: Yes..

Regulus: And uncle. Sirius was the one who melted your collection.

Sirius:

Sirius: REGULUS' ONLY FRIEND FOR YEARS WAS OUR HOUSE ELF

Regulus: *gasp*

Regulus: SIRIUS AND REMUS BROKE UP, GOT TOGETHER AND BROKE UP. AGAIN!

Sirius: REGULUS BECAME A DEATH EATER THEN WENT ON A SECRET MISSION TO FIND THE HORCRUXES. ON HIS OWN!

Regulus: SIRIUS IS GOING TO ASK REMUS TO MARRY HIM!

Remus: what

Sirius: YOU LITTLE- REGULUS AND JAMES ARE LIVING TOGETHER!!

Alphard: ....That is a lot of information to take in 30 seconds. I will have a word with both of you later. And James.

James:

Alphard: You have been Sirius' best friend for years, stuck by him through his drug problem

Sirius: Oh come on, it's not like he never-

Alphard: And now you've taken on Regulus as well. I don't know what to say. You're a wonderful human being.

James: Thank you, sir

Alphard: Please. Call me uncle.

James: Okay...uncle.

Remus:

Remus:

Remus: Okay so am I supposed to ignore the fact that-

[warnersister]

Oh, how you’d changed him

Tom Riddle x Reader

Summary: how you’d changed Tom and his life for the better, and how ridiculous his previous plans seemed after that.

Tom had carefully planned out his world domination, created his alias Lord Voldemort and the horrors that would go with him. He decided that he would single-handedly take over the wizarding world by any means necessary and reek havoc amongst the weaklings that surrounded him. This; a plan he had created since he was merely a boy, determined to return what this cruel world had forced upon him - sorrow and pain.

Until he met you. To Tom, you were like a breath of fresh air, an unbeatable presence with bright and hopeful features that offered a sense of peace in his life. You had been acquaintances since first year, however had become more familiar in sixth-year potions, just as he was plotting his first horcruxes along with the basallisk attack, you had been assigned as station-partners in the early September of that year.

When your names had been read Tom quirked a brow, however was not disappointed with the testily - having duly noted your previous achievements in the subject and feeling as though you could come in handy later down the line when his domination was more of a priority than his studies, but his world came crashing down when you turned in your seat to examine him.

Tom was lead to believe that he was incapable of love. A monotone psychopathic freak lacking human emotions, yet obtaining alien abilities. It when your eyes looked him over and your hair swayed behind your shoulders, he was unable to ignore the way his heartbeat quickened and breath faltered, in Tom’s eyes you were unfathomably gorgeous and he was unable to look away, a Medusa incapable of stoning her victims.

You held your hand out calmly and he admired the way your posture was straight and head held in a confident stature. “Y/n,” you said, lips soft and plump and voice soothing and gentle. “Tom,” he replied, voice failing him as he fumbled over his words with a stutter - something having never happened to him previously. You giggled at his mistake and he found himself enjoying the sound, instinctively making it his mission to hear it once more, unable to stop the smile appearing on his lips.

Tom also appreciated your knack for perfection. Your potions never failed to exceed beyond perfection and your applause was always deserved, taken with a humble nod to your peers before you set out defying the next odds in your path.

Naturally, Tom began to gravitate towards you outside of lectures, also. He’d find himself on the path to walk you to class or accompany you to the dinner table, or beside you in the library studying beyond the librarian’s patience and working hours. Tom found comfort in your presence and allowed himself to indulge regardless of what ‘Lord Voldemort’ told him to do.

Eventually, he’d offered his arm to stroll down with you to Hogsmeade on a chilly autum day, a few weeks before Christmas celebrations would commence and the winter solstice would turn the Scottish highlands surrounding you into an awe-worthy winter wonderland. “May I accompany you to Hogsmeade?” Tom asked with a small smile, holding his arm out to you while you friends giggled and pushed you towards him. You’d laughed with him as you threaded your forearm alongside his, joining you both at the hip while you replied: “yes, you may Tommy.”

Strangely, he never felt any kind of resentment to any nickname you’d give him other than his name. He welcomed your names with open arms and answered to nearly any plausible noun that passed his lips. He even bought you butterbeer to warm your frostbitten lips, sipping simultaneously while the barmaid offered a few obvious knowing glances.

You shivered as you walked on, the many layers you had adorned on top of your skin no match for the ever-growing cold attacking Hogwarts and found yourself struggling with chattering teeth. Tom immediately removed his long coat and wrapped it around you, admiring both the chivalry of his actions and the satisfied smile on your face when your body temperature started to rise. “No, no, Tom. You’ll get cold.” You said, a reluctant whine passing your lips to which he shrugged. With anyone else, he would’ve let you freeze to death, but not you. He would die for you, freeze to death if you will. “I’m fine, I’m more concerned about getting you back to the castle without hypothermia.” He says with a small chuckle, pulling you into his side by the waist. “I guess you aren’t so cold-hearted as you make yourself out to be, Tom Riddle.” He looks down at you and considers your words for a few seconds.

“You confuse me, y/n. I’ve never felt so warm and gleeful around a person yet you never fail to bring a smile to my face. Teach me how to do that.” I instructs but you shake your head no gently. “I cannot do that simply due to the face that you do it to me, also.” You reply, each exchanging knowing glances between each others eyes and lips. He leans down and traps your lips with his own, warming your body through a simple yet sophisticated gesture and from that day forward you were referred to as his girlfriend.

Of course, however he had also come clean about his upbringing and eventually the chamber and the basilisk. He had told you he was conceived under the influence of a love spell and believed that he was incapable of loving until he had met you. You laid on his bed as you talked; his head on your chest while you weaved your fingers thought his chestnut locks and listened to him. “I read a while back now about a recently investigated muggle issue called autism and it has occurred to me that you’re not incapable of love, you have asbergers Tom. I’ll read the passage to you later.” And all of a sudden all of his unjustified emotions and troubles made sense and he could finally find an unknowingly lost sense of peace within himself knowing what truly made him into the Tom Riddle he was.

When he took you into the chamber he’d told you all about his plan for domination and his large magical snake and how he had a few followers and you never judged him once. If anything you thought it was impressive that he yearned for revenge instead of acceptance but reasoned that perhaps an oversized snake and a killing spree were not the solutions he was searching for. The basilisk lived shrunken to normal size in a glass cage beside his bed after that.

And as the time went by and your relationship flourished, Voldemort seemed more like a past phase than a goal and was more focused on the life he going to create with you. He called his ‘followers’ pathetic and told them to get a life when they questioned his authority over their devotion.

Eventually, it came time for you to graduate and Tom’s hand was tightly clasped in your own as you looked at the castle for a final time. You were silent, acknowledging the end of this era and slowly coming to terms with it. After a while, Tom scoffed. “World domination.” He said with a smile shaking his head. “Who’s ever heard of such a thing?” He turned and picked up your bags along with his own. “Ready to go, darling?”

The two of you had shared your own compartment on the train ride home, others finding their own cubbies as Tom scared them off from sitting with you. Your head was rested on his shoulder as he read a muggle book to you that you had bought the previous summer ‘the great gatsby’. It was a deep and considerate book and made you think about your future, also.

“What’re we going to do now?” You ask out of the blue, interrupting his sentence as he simply closes his book and looks down at you, your face deep in thought. “Well,” he hummed, thinking for a moment. “We’ve booked that cottage in the Peak District for a few weeks, how about we think it all out then?” And you nod. “Sounds like a plan then.”

The next few weeks were spent waking together in the high peaks of the muggle countryside, simply talking and appreciating one another’s company and plotting your lives.

“Is it bad that I want to stay here forever?” You ask him, looking out at the sunsetting one warm winter evening. Tom thinks thoughtfully before saying “if it is then it’s bad that I want to stay here too.” As a pureblood witch you were born under the believe that muggle life was pointless and undeserving, and as had Tom - but together you realised you preferred the quiet and solitary, and not needing to use magic to do everything all of the time. It was a change. And it was nice.

One morning mid-august Tom was reading the newspaper and you were making you both toast. “Someone’s selling the property up the street.” He says and you sip on your drink and look out of the window. “What? The old farmhouse.” “No, the one with the long drive and vines up the side.” You sigh dreamily. “Oh, if only.” You say with a chuckle. “Darling we can afford it.” Tom says and you stay in silence for a moment, sharing the thoughts weaving through your minds. “It wouldn’t take up a large chunk of our savings.” He drops his reading glasses to the end of his nose and smirks. “We’re rich in muggle terms.” You laugh and shake your head at him. “You’re so humble, Riddle.” He stands up and slides his hands around your waist to hold you close as you share the view of the house in question. “We’re buying it.” He spoke after a while, finalising his decision. “What happened to the ‘I hate muggles and never want to be amongst them’?” You ask, turning to him with a cocked brow. He just shrugs. “They were Voldemort’s views. Not mine.”

Matter several months going back and forth with the previous owners and settling on an asking price, you were standing in front of the house- your house, beside tom, exactly how you had when you were leaving Hogwarts. “This is our house.” You say, not taking your eyes off of the scenic view before you. Tom takes you into his side and rubs your arm comfortingly before kissing your temple. “Our home.”

Tom became an Auror, acting as an undercover wizard in the muggle setting catching and reporting any source of dark or unrightfully used magic. You took up being a healer, training in the wizarding world but practising in your home village, being known as a respectable young doctor who all the elderly or adjacent citizens resided in to get treatment - and anything you gave them always worked.

It was a spring morning when you were down at the bakery picking up a loaf of bread for your dinners. “How’s that fella of yours?” The lady asked with a smirk. “Oh Tom’s fine, just left for work.” “Popped the question yet?” The old woman asks, elbowing you slightly. “We’re only twenty Agatha!” You say with a laugh. “Well, Arthur and I were married when we were nineteen.” She crossed her arms. “I thought you were telling me how much you hated him?” You laugh. “Oh he gets on my wire, but we were still married!”

That left you with the thought in your mind for the remainder of the day - you’d decided that Tom Riddle was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with and then some.

In February you both took a trip down to the Lake District and rented a boat house with a large lake, your jobs and ‘trust funds’ inherited from family members allowed you to do this rather frequently and easily, nothing out of the ordinary to take a trip for a long weekend.

It was at sunset, rather early due to daylight saving hours when you rowed out onto the lake to just sit in tranquility for a little while, appreciating the quiet time together. You’d rose to your feet, sure that you had seen an owl fly by and when you turned around, Tom was on one knee, box in hand. In the box, the ring of Salazar Slytherin himself with a bunch of roses in the other.

“Agatha told me today is Cupid’s holiday.” He say, voice just beyond a whisper as a smile grew on your face and tears formed. “You know, until I was sixteen I was asphyxiated with the idea of taking over the world, finding a victim to take the pain that I felt. But those silly little thoughts were gone when I met you, the only person I live and breathe for. I never thought I could, however I love you, yn ln. And it would do me great honour if you would be my wife.”

You’d kissed and hugged him and wept into his shoulder as you happily embraced - ready to start the rest of your lives together. There were no other young women in the village and your parents had practically alienated you when you went to live with muggles so the ladies who attended your doctors practise took you shopping for your wedding dress - Tom insisted on paying.

Dolly was brutally honest and Susan started crying, Agatha kissed you and called you her daughter and it was certainly a day to remember - a gorgeous fitting dress, white and highlighting your features gracefully.

You’d gotten married in the village church, an audience of your neighbours and close friends and a few companions from school, Agatha was your maid of honour and Greta your flower girl, gleaming smile on her face while her husband rolled her down the isle in her wheelchair while she sassily threw rose petals. And Dumbledore was sat in the front row, a smart suit on while he smiled at the man the little evil boy turned out to be, and the gorgeous woman you had flourished into.

It was a beautiful ceremony and a beautiful day. And you were now the beautiful yn Riddle.

In September, Abraxas Malfoy and his wife wanted to celebrate their wedding anniversary and asked if they would drop their son, Lucius off for the week so they could go away. You and Tom decided to take the week off work and look after him, after all, the young lad needed to be accustomed to his god parents!

One evening Lucius had pleaded with you to go sit in the garden and paint together and of course you complied, taking the supplied and the young boy on your hip, and headed for the grass to make a mess. And make a mess you did, there was red in your hair and blue on his white libel shirt, and hardly anything on the page. Tom watched from the window sipping on a cup of tea, watching as you interacted with the young boy so naturally, tickling his stomach and laughing as you played hidey-boo. It created an odd twang in his stomach, the same he had felt when he had first laid eyes on you.

One day when the boy had been reunited with his parents, Tom had been sent on a mission to retrieve an escaped boggart. During his time at Hogwarts, his biggest was recognisably his own dead corpse, but when he approached the creature, it’s form was your grave with him sat looking deathly ill beside it weeping. Your headstone read ‘a loving wife and doctor, no children’ his stomach dropped when he realised what he needed. What he needed right now.

He got home that night and held you close and cried, feeling you warm and full of life. You caressed his shaking body as you soothes him, and when he had calmed he had taken your face into his hands and cradled it, telling you suddenly “yn I want a baby.”

Throughout your pregnancy, Tom was tender and reluctant to let you move without him being beside you. He became more protective than he already was an even took an extended paternity leave just before your due date.

Prior to that however, he worshiped you like a goddess. He would make you decaf tea - something you grumbled about but he refused to listen. He stopped smoking his pipe inside the house, instead taking it to the end of the garden while he and Mr Garson next door chatted about his wife and you. He made you lay on the settee and sat on the floor beside your growing stomach while he read old wives tales from a book inherited from his mother. He even sang to it once or twice. After the sixth month mark when your belly was becoming noticeably plump to the point you could rest your tea cup upon it without it falling off, he began carrying you everywhere. Regardless of how far the distance, and the fact you were carrying another human, he acted as though you were a feather that needed assistance and carried you the way he did on your wedding night.

When you took your own maternity leave, he was even more pleased - before he’d sit beside you in your doctors office and never took his eyes off of you, now he needn’t a reason to why. In his eyes, his love was pregnant and needed tending too. He’d shower with you and lift your stomach until he saw the face of satisfaction he knew well and loved. And he’d be lying if he said the breasts you were growing didn’t make his mouth water, as well as the fact there was a possibility that he could impregnate a pregnant woman - a thought that drove him wild but alas after many attempts, it was eventually an unsuccessful mission.

And in the next July, Tom was sweating as he held your hand and felt a great pain as you cried in agony beside him. You were in a muggle hospital, Agatha had awoken in the middle of the night and heard your pained cries and ordered her husband, Mr Garson to drive you to the hospital which he did, adjusting his thick-lenses on his glasses and having to be awoken a few times at the wheel from Tom’s furious barks, but you made it on one piece, and at quarter to ten, you produced him a son, deciding on naming him Mattheo Riddle.

After giving him a bath, the midwife’s tried to take him away ‘give you a break’, but you refused. Groggily saying “I’ve only had him ten minutes why would I need a break.” And Tom soon shooed them off, getting into the bed beside you and holding your son skin-to-skin as he slept on his fathers chest, and you on his shoulder. When you drifted off he kissed the top of your head gently and whispered sweetly “well done, mummy.”

Tom was determined to be the father he didn’t have. And a good one at that.

Mr and Mrs Garson cried when you asked them to be the godparents, you would’ve appointed the role to everyone in this village if you could - your own little family larger than it seemed.

The newborn stage went by awefully fast and you and Tom self with every hurdle and hiccup together, all the nappies and sick, and the 3AM walks when baby Matty would not settle. It was gone and soon you had a walking talking toddler of whom you were both awfully proud of.

The chilly autumnal eves suddenly turned into even colder winter morns, Christmas was making its rounds in the muggle world and you and Tom had became accustomed to it. You decorated the tree, hung candles, sung carols, gave presents and ate specialty meals on the 25th. Tom sat in his armchair, Mattheo on lap, reading glasses down to the end of his nose as he read A Christmas Carol to him.

You were making dinner, Mince Pie was on the menu that night in particular, and you smiled as you notice the snow falling. You wiped your hands and leant against the doorframe watching your two boys in awe, just memorising the picture for a moment. “Are you alright, my love?” Tom asked, smiling up at you. “Just admiring the picture.” You say, mirroring his grin. Then you turn to your son. “I’m awfully sorry to interrupt, master Riddle. However, so I do believe it is snowing.” He gasped dramatically when he heard the news. “Snow! But we’re reading! But snow!” You both laugh at his dilemma then suggest “how about we eat dinner, then we’ll read out in the snow and make a snowman.” The young boy squeals in delight and runs to the dining room to eat, sitting ever so patiently yet with an impatient smile on those cheeky lips.

That evening you built a snowman, read the last part of the book, and put your son peacefully to sleep in his bed after singing ‘Silent Night’ to him. You and Tom basked in the sight for a moment, just taking in the calmness of the setting.

And as Tom looked down at you, he thought of how you’d changed him.

*scoff* Lord Voldemort, who’d ever heard of anything so ridiculous?

[hollowed-theory-hall]

For Voldemort, I always considered it like he has a goal (immortality), and a flaw (big ego). If he just wanted to be immortal, he'd make a few horcuxes and be done with it. He could be a recluse and study magic for centuries. But he can't just put pieces of his soul in any container. They've gotta be special, and important, and nothing is as special to old Tom as wizarding history. So he's got the founders' items, and the Gaunt ring, and they need special hiding spots, and so on. Further contrasting his goal, he can't just recluse himself from society, then he can't take over. His own ego and, well, evil-ness, means he makes enemies. This is one of my favorite writing techniques actually, where a character's goal is hampered by their flaws.

I personally think Voldemort is more complicated than this. I mean, I talked in the past about how I don't think he really wanted to live forever, and while, he would have loved to study magic, Tom can't be a recluse (hence why he returned from his world tour eventually).

I think Tom Riddle is someone who is desperate for human connection. I think, one of the things that hampers him the most is actually his need for recognition. his desire that others would know how great he is. He absolutely has an ego and thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread, but he wants everyone to know it too.

But his pride is a weird one. Like, Tom thinks he is the best, but he still considers himself not enough. He has a unique mix of self-hatred, a lot of pride and ego, and a huge dose of general spite that makes his mind fascinating, but also a hazard to everyone around him.

And I think, choosing Founders Artefacts wasn't for pride reasons or for Wizarding History (I think he cares about Magical Theory way more than any other area of magic, but I digress), but for sentimentality reasons (Dumbledore is correct about this assessment). Like Harry, Hogwarts was Tom's first and only home:

“I believe he had several reasons, though he confided none of them to Professor Dippet,” said Dumbledore. “Firstly, and very importantly, Voldemort was, I believe, more attached to this school than he has ever been to a person. Hogwarts was where he had been happiest; the first and only place he had felt at home.” Harry felt slightly uncomfortable at these words, for this was exactly how he felt about Hogwarts too.

(HBP)

I mean, if we look at all the items he chose as Horcruxes the only common denominator is that they were all sentimental to him:

The Diary - something very personal to him that has no historical relevance. Hell, it's a muggle diary that I headcanon he found after WWII reached Britain and that the diary, like him, was a survivor.

The Gaunt Ring - Tom didn't know this was the resurrection stone, all he knew it as was a family ring of a line that lost all it's relevance. It was made into a Horcrux because it's a reminder of his family.

The Cup - a reminder of Hogwarts, his first home.

The Locket - both a reminder of Hogwarts and his family. I think the locket was his favorite Horcrux, hence why he went to all this effort to make proper protections for it while he didn't for the others. I think he cared about what this one represented the most.

The Diadem - again a memory of Hogwarts, but also his own pride. How he found a magical artifact thought to be lost. And he placed it in a similarly prideful location — a room at Hogwarts he thought only he knew about.

Nagini - a snake he felt affection towards, this one was made as a prize for her because he liked her, no other reason.

Most of the Horcruxes didn't have unique hiding spots. I mean, the Gaunt Shack, really? Lucius Malfoy's study (the diary) hardly even counts as a hiding spot. Both the Locket's cave and the Room of Requirement are places that are sentimental for Tom personally. Places that remind him of his own accomplishments. they aren't special for any grand historical reason, they are special for Tom as a person.

So, all in all, I think Tom is much more sentimental than he is prideful. I mean, he is both, but his pride is hampered by perfectionism and self-hate much more than most read him as. Like, part of his ego is that he is unwilling to think less of himself because he hates himself and he hates that he hates himself. Like, I don't think my reading of Tom Riddle is a super popular one, but it's the only one I think makes sense.

So much of his behavior just makes much more sense if you think he is desperate for human connection and recognition from others, especially when younger (with a pretty wrapped view of other people and how friendships work). And is a surprisingly sentimental guy.

[tomriddlehyperfixataion]

The Diary of Tom Riddle- Diary! Tom Riddle x Reader - P5

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed, bleeding from the nose.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3- -Part 4- -Part 6-

=

(y/n) hadn’t talked to Tom for a while now, too scared to even open the diary. How had he done that?? How had a personality enchantment pulled her into its host?? Where it had a whole Hogwarts available to it??

Deep down-so deep she wasn’t even aware of it-she knew there was something more about Tom Riddle’s diary.

She stuffed the diary back into her trunk, refusing to even look at it.

Christmas was coming along now, and (y/n) didn’t know if she wanted to go back home for the holidays or stay at Hogwarts. She looked out the window of transfiguration class, her cheek on her palm as she watched the snow fall outside.

She should probably go back home, to get away from the craziness of the ‘chamber of secrets’ fiasco, if just to give her some peace of mind, and maybe some proper sleep.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes and looking down at her notebook. It was just her plain notebook; one she’d bought in Hogsmeade right after Tom had pulled her into his diary. She didn’t know how he’d done that, how he’d pulled her into his enchantment. Logically-that shouldn’t be possible, personality enchantments were just…personality enchantments, they shouldn’t be able to create their own realms-or pull others into what they perceived.

She licked her lip, rubbing her face as her head ached. She’d researched more about personality enchantments multiple times now, and not one of them said anything about the enchantments being able to be…more human, to have their own realms or be…real.

Tom felt too real.

She jolted as Professor McGonagall ended the lesson, telling everyone that the signup sheet for staying at the castle for the holidays had to be signed by the end of the week if one wished to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas and New Year's.

(y/n) sighed, packing her books and heading back to her dorm room, she needed a nap.

She tossed her bag onto the floor and flopped onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow and clutching it, sighing deeply.

A nagging at the back of her mind told her to look at the diary.

She ignored it for several minutes before it became too much and she practically leaped off her bed, throwing open her trunk after dragging it out from under her bed and grabbing the diary. Grabbing it felt like welcoming home an old friend, like something missing was back in place.

She ignored that, opening the diary, reading through her notes that Tom had rewritten-but she got to the most recent ones, and they were gone-replaced with new sentences.

From Tom.

‘(y/n)?’

‘(y/n) It’s been days, I know I scared you, but you can’t ignore me forever.’

‘(y/n) Please, don’t leave me alone.’

‘(y/n).’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that; I didn’t mean to scare you. Please talk to me again.’

‘I won't do it again. Just’ a series of frustrated scribbles then lined the page before the next sentence.

‘Merlin just talk to me.’

‘I’m sorry.’

(y/n) stared at the words for what felt like forever, she didn’t know whether or respond or to put the diary back into her trunk and ignore him…it…him.

(y/n) closed the diary and dropped onto her bed, burying her face in her hands. She didn’t even know what was going on anymore, Tom-the diary-was just a personality enchantment-that’s what he said he was when she first wrote to him, and yet he seemed so…real, like he wasn’t just an enchantment.

Like someone’s very soul-their very being-was put into the diary.

But that was impossible, wasn’t it?

…

She was going back home for Christmas.

-

She didn’t bring the diary with her, instead locking it way in her bedside table drawer, though she felt the constant nagging need to grab it and write to Tom. She ignored that nag and it slowly went away the further the train traveled away from Hogwarts.

She was welcomed at Kings Cross station by her dad and her stepmom, and her brother-who was visiting for the holidays-her dad giving her a big warm hug, which she happily returned, she’d needed a good dad hug. “How’s school been sweetie?” her dad asked, his hand in hers as they walked to the car.

“Good, it’s…been dramatic I suppose,” (y/n) responded lightly, not knowing if her parents were aware of what was happening at the school.

“What sorta dramatics?” her brother asked and (y/n) shrugged, unsure of how to explain it.

“The usual stuff,” she said instead, her brother taking her trunk and loading into the car. “Teenagers, classes, boys.”

“Boys? Oh, don’t tell me my daughter has a boy at her heels? I’ve dreaded this day,” her dad joked, holding his hand to his chest as he pretended to faint, her stepmom laughing as (y/n) smiled tiredly.

“Not really, just…a particular boy, he’s…weird, I guess.” (y/n) muttered and her dad could tell she didn’t want to talk about it, even though her brother was bugging her about it, poking at her arm to spill more about her ‘mystery boy’.

“Leave her be Justin, she’s had a long trip back from the school-let’s get some dinner.” Her dad said, kissing her forehead before they all got into the car and her dad drove to her favorite restaurant.

-

Christmas had been very nice, her family had hosted the (last name) family Christmas party this year and she got to see all her extended family from that side, playing loads of muggle games with her cousins and bouncing her newest baby cousin on her knee as she listened to her great grand aunts and grand aunts chatter away. One asked if she had a boyfriend, and with a flush of her cheeks-thinking of Tom’s face and touch when he’d pulled her into the diary-shook her head.

“I’m not looking for one,” she said shyly, and thankfully her cousin came to her rescue-taking her son back and (y/n) quickly escaped into the kitchen, where her dad was making the finishing touches to the ham.

“Hi sweetie,” her dad said, distracted, as he brushed the glazed honey onto the ham while she hugged him from behind, and then helped him hold the ham slices apart so he could brush the glaze easier onto the ham.

She stayed silent while her dad worked, and when he put the brush and metal bowl aside, she tugged at his sleeve. He turned to her; his brows furrowed gently. “What’s wrong sweetie?” he asked, able to tell when she felt a bit…down.

“…Can I have a hug?” she asked quietly, really needing a dad hug, and instantly her dad's arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his familiar warmth, smelling of cologne and dandruff shampoo. She held him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.

“what’s wrong sweetie?” her dad asked again, rubbing her back and she squished her cheek into him, wondering how to word the whole…Tom situation.

“There's this…boy,” (y/n) began and her dads grip on her tightened and he took her aside into the den. They sat down on the couch in front of the TV, and she tucked herself into her dad’s side-just like she’d done since she was young. “he’s…unusual, uhm, he’s tutoring me in defense against the dark arts, cause our current teacher is…just a buffoon.”

Her dad hummed, letting her know he was listening, rubbing her arm as his other hand rested on his lap. “Anyway-he was tutoring me, a few weeks back now and he uh…got really close.” Her father's grip on her arm tightened, his brow furrowing.

“Do I need to have a conversation with this boy (y/n)? Or send Justin?” her dad asked and (y/n) snorted, shaking her head, smiling gently.

“No, it’s okay-i…didn’t really mind it, I know you don’t wanna hear that but…it just-kinda scared me-I guess, I’ve never been that close to a boy before-not in…the way we were,” she looked up at her dad and huffed, smiling a bit “nothing happened dad, he was just all up next to me,” (y/n) said, giggling at the end as her dad just looked a bit green at the gills.

He sighed dramatically, putting his hand to his chest. “Oh good, I was worried I might get grandchildren early.” (y/n) squealed/laughed and smacked at her dad, who laughed heartily, before shaking her head.

“Daaad…anyway, uhm-I’ve been avoiding him since then, and…he sent me notes-apologizing, for scaring me-and that he didn’t mean to. And…I dunno what to do.” (y/n) continued softly, looking down at her hands as they were clenched together in her lap, chewing on her lip in thought.

“Do you think he genuinely meant his apology?” her dad asked and (y/n) shrugged.

“Uhm-well, he’s quite…hard to read, doesn’t…show his emotions a lot.” (y/n) murmured, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees.

“Were you expecting him to apologize?” Her dad asked and (y/n) thought about it for a moment, then shook her head.

“I…I hadn’t, he also kinda…begged me to talk to him again?” (y/n) said, remembering what Tom had written to her in the diary. ‘Please talk to me again.’

…she needed to do more research about personality enchantments, after all-maybe they could feel emotions? Since they were an imprint of someone's self into a book or object.

She remembered accidentally tearing a bit of the paper of the diary and Tom had reacted to it, as if he really felt it.

Perhaps Tom was more…real than she’d presumed.

“(y/n)?” her dad asked, and she turned, realizing he’d been talking this down. She smiled at him and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.

“Thanks daddy, I think I got it figured out-thank you for listening.” She said softly and he hummed, hugging her back tightly and kissing her forehead as she pulled away and stood up from the couch.

“You’re welcome sweetie, now let's get back to the party before anyone looks for us,” (y/n) nodded and held his sleeve as they left the den to go back through the house.

-

Thankfully during Christmas-she’d slept pretty good, probably because she knew home was safe and that there wasn’t a chance of being petrified by some-monster.

Returning to Hogwarts felt oddly suffocating, probably due to the…monster thing, and the fact that she was going to…talk to Tom again.

She slid open her drawer and took out the diary, opening it to find it completely blank. She frowned, rubbing her thumb against the blank first page. Odd…maybe he thought she’d abandoned him and erased all the notes he’d rewritten for her.

She swallowed harshly, and grabbed her quill-opening her ink well and dipping the tip, before pressing it to the page.

"I kinda needed those notes Tom.”

Her written words stayed there for a very long minute, before they sunk into the page and Tom’s words quickly appeared.

‘(y/n)?’

“yeah…hi.”

‘Where have you been?’

‘I thought you abandoned me?’

“I’m-“

(y/n) paused in her writing, should she apologize? Should she explain why she hadn’t written back to him?

“Im sorry. I got overwhelmed.”

“scared. I hadn’t expected you to do that, I didn’t know you could do that.”

‘I'm sorry, I hadn’t meant to do that, I’d only meant to properly tutor you, I apologize for any confusion I caused within you, I should’ve told you, asked you, before I pulled you into my diary.’

(y/n) stared at his apology for a long moment, her quill hanging limply in the curve of her hand, before she sighed, dipping her quill again.

“that would’ve been appreciated…how’d you even do that anyway?”

‘It’s complicated, because I’ve been enchanted into the diary for so long, and I, or my original self, enchanted his personality into his diary with the intent to make me as real as possible, and I suppose that included giving me a subspace that reflected Hogwarts. With time, the magic of the enchantment solidified and I’m practically as real as you are.’

“that…sounds not super complicated actually, you explained that pretty well.”

‘I may have been figuring out how to explain it to you since you stopped writing.’

Huh…that was kinda…sweet? Maybe? (y/n) sighed, shaking her head, leaning back on her bed, her back pressing against the headboard. She really didn’t know what to think anymore.

‘(y/n)?’

Oh, right.

“im still here,”

‘Do you forgive me? Or at least aren’t mad at me anymore?’

“I was never mad, just…freaked out, its not every day a personality enchantment can pull you into their space, ya know?”

‘True, I do apologize again, and I won’t do it again.’

‘At least without not asking you first.’

(y/n) sighed, rubbing her forehead, a streak of ink coating her cheek.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you Tom”

‘Thank you, (y/n), for talking to me again.’

‘I know I was quite irritated with you when we first began speaking, well writing, but I’ve grown fond of you.’

“thanks, you’re also quite entertaining for a diary of a nerd :D”

‘I’m not rewriting your notes anymore.’

“Jerk.”

‘Witch.’

-

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley poked their heads around the corner of the hallway Filch had stormed away from, instantly seeing what he’d been complaining about-there was water everywhere, reflecting the scarlet words that had long dried on the wall. They could hear Moaning Myrtle’s wailing from down the hall.

“Now whats up with her?” said Ron, scrunching his nose as their shoes waded in what he hoped was sink water.

“Let’s go and see,” said Harry, the two lifting their robes as they stepped through the inch-high water. Harry pushed open the door-squinting at the slight ringing in his ears-and then his eyes went wide, seeing a girl, much older than him and Ron, hunched over one of the sinks, blood mixing with the sink water as it dripped from her face.

Ron gasped as Harry rushed forward, his hand landing on the girls back, she turned to him, her gaze unfocused as Myrtle continued to moan-now realizing she was yelling for help.

“Hey, little Potter-mind if you grab a teacher for me? I don’t feel good,” the girl said weakly, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she passed out, nearly hitting the sink as she fell back.

“Ron go get Madam Pomfrey! Now!” Harry yelped, kneeling next to the 6th-year Slytherin girl, his hands shaking a bit as he patted her face-staining his skin with the blood that poured from her nose.

Ron ran out of the bathroom quicker than Harry had ever seen him, the two no longer caring for how wet their robes were.

Soon Madam Pomfrey and two professors were collecting the girl, named (y/n), from the floor of the bathroom, quickly taking her to the hospital wing. At the same time, Harry saw a black leather bound on the floor, blood-streaked on the edge of the pages. He picked it up, shaking it out and turning it over in his hands.

“Tom Marvolo Riddle,” Harry said under his breath, ignoring the way his ears were ringing and the way his scar itched.

-end of p5-

im so glad you guys are liking this storyyyy!!! and now we're getting to the good shit, buckle up chuckle fucks!

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@kayytt-2 @chimchoom

[obsidianpen]

What's so great about Harrymort, anyway? This ship basically consists of Stockholm syndrome, power inequality, and abuse. The same can be applied to Tomione but I understand that last one and I even started to appreciate this ship a lot. Hermione is the character most similar to Tom, if she had the ambition that Tom had, she could have become something similar to Voldemort in canon. But beyond that, Hermione is someone Tom/V could respect and have as an ally. She is someone who would be able to rule alongside him, and everyone would benefit from that, since she is fair and good. Also if Tom/V had her by his side, he would be a more stable version than the one in canon. So.. I understand why you like this ship so much but.. the more I think about Harrymort the more I feel disgusted. Harry is not a character that people respect and fear, he is just Harry. Just that. Some random boy. There's nothing special about him, and if it weren't for the horcrux he would already be dead since chapter 1 of the books. Tom/V is a prodigy, one of the most powerful wizards in the books, he wouldn't be interested in someone so ordinary. But let's say yes, that Tom/V is interested in Harry precisely because he is common and average, since they have a similar background - This is difficult to happen, V is not an empathetic character but let's pretend so - and because of the horcrux, of course it's because of the horcrux, that's the only reason, the only thing that makes Harry stand out among the others -not even that came from him lol so sad- If our hypothetical scenario happened, Harry would be a toy for Tom /V -he already is- "ah, but the fun is in how much Harry fights, he was going to fight, that's what he is" oh yes, this argument is the favorite of the Tomarymort fans, huh? He wouldn't be able to fight forever, this character has been in fight or flight mode since the beginning, he'll get tired eventually, V would be able to break him, and do you think V is the type to keep things broken? I don't think so. My point is Tomarymort is a ship that explores abuse, toxic and destructive relationships, physical and psychological torture, Stockholm syndrome etc. And that's fine if you like it but I think we can all agree that this ship and love should NEVER be put in the same sentence . Because love and respect would never exist between these two characters. No matter how good the writer is, some things just don't work. Just become them ooc, that's what happens most lol

Preface: I’m breaking this one down point by point, and then I am never responding to anything similar ever again. I will also not be posting anonymous responses to this. I hate being the middle man for a tumblr shipping war, so I’m not going to participate in that. If you want to respond, you can leave a comment or reblog it into your own page. 💖

What's so great about Harrymort, anyway? 

The drama, the intensity, the wrongness, the clashing of opposites, the most extreme version of enemies to lovers…

This ship basically consists of Stockholm syndrome, power inequality, and abuse. 

In some fics sure, yeah. But these are all really interesting - terrible, yes, but super interesting to dive into. There is a reason people like to read/watch psychological thrillers, horror, etc. I don’t feel like I should have to explain this very massive, common human drive, so I won’t. Go google it!

The same can be applied to Tomione but I understand that last one and I even started to appreciate this ship a lot. 

Cool, you like these things too! And you’re completely allowed to prefer Hermione to Harry. Whatever you want to read.

Hermione is the character most similar to Tom, if she had the ambition that Tom had, she could have become something similar to Voldemort in canon. 

Strong disagree here - she did have that ambition imo, she just… wasn’t evil, and she became Minister of Magic in canon, so. Pretty ambitious and somewhat similar, just in the legal, ‘good’ way.

But beyond that, Hermione is someone Tom/V could respect and have as an ally. 

Mm, no, she was a muggleborn, so in canon, a LOT of major shifts would have needed to happen for her to simply not be killed, or maybe tortured a hunch for fun, first, before eventually… being killed.

She is someone who would be able to rule alongside him, and everyone would benefit from that, since she is fair and good. 

Again, LOTS of things would have had to happen in canon for this to be even remotely possible. Unless you’re imagining some kind of AU where Tom Riddle is the same age as the trio, and they grow up together and can therefore influence each other on more equal footing…? But that’s Tom, not canon Voldemort, and you started this referencing Voldemort.

Also if Tom/V had her by his side, he would be a more stable version than the one in canon. 

Uh, would he? Assuming we’ve jumped over the impossible canon hurdles to get Hermione by Lord Voldemort’s side, by the time Hermione is even in the magical world, he’s been a bodiless spirit with a shredded soul for years. It would be a tall order for Hermione - or anyone - to make him more stable. I like arguing that Harry could sort of manage this in canon because of the horcrux connection, but that’s me making things up that are FAR from canon, and Hermione doesn’t have this. 

So.. I understand why you like this ship so much but.. the more I think about Harrymort the more I feel disgusted. 

Cool, your feelings are valid! You should probably stop thinking about Harrymort for your mental health. You can block tags/keywords/etc on tumblr so that you see less of it.

Harry is not a character that people respect and fear, he is just Harry. Just that. Some random boy. There's nothing special about him, and if it weren't for the horcrux he would already be dead since chapter 1 of the books. 

Well, that’s not true, imo. Harry was the best at Defensive Magic, he was an amazing flier, he is brave and bold and puts his life on the line for others without question - even people who don’t deserve it and who tried to harm him, like Draco. Those are all extraordinary traits that maybe some people make the mistake of ignoring and underestimating. 

Tom/V is a prodigy, one of the most powerful wizards in the books, he wouldn't be interested in someone so ordinary. 

If not for the horcrux, maybe not. But also, maybe. We don’t know what Harry would have been like if he grew up with a normal happy healthy family. Maybe he would have thrived in many ways, and he would have gleaned some interest. But even without that, see above comment to take note of some of Harry’s traits that he has despite growing up in an abusive home. Voldemort said himself that he values bravery. 

But let's say yes, that Tom/V is interested in Harry precisely because he is common and average, since they have a similar background - This is difficult to happen, V is not an empathetic character but let's pretend so - and because of the horcrux, of course it's because of the horcrux, that's the only reason, the only thing that makes Harry stand out among the others -not even that came from him lol so sad- If our hypothetical scenario happened, Harry would be a toy for Tom /V -he already is- "ah, but the fun is in how much Harry fights, he was going to fight, that's what he is" oh yes, this argument is the favorite of the Tomarymort fans, huh? He wouldn't be able to fight forever, this character has been in fight or flight mode since the beginning, he'll get tired eventually, V would be able to break him, and do you think V is the type to keep things broken? I don't think so. 

None of this logic adds up to me. How can you say all this about Harry and not apply it to pretty much everyone else, including Hermione? Voldemort WAS far from empathetic. Canonically. And yeah, sure, no one would be able to fight forever. But if anyone has a fire that would last an infuriatingly long time, I’d argue that it would be Harry. 

My point is Tomarymort is a ship that explores abuse, toxic and destructive relationships, physical and psychological torture, Stockholm syndrome etc. And that's fine if you like it but I think we can all agree that this ship and love should NEVER be put in the same sentence . 

Obviously this depends on what the story is. If it’s a story that explores all those former themes, then it’s probably not a lovey dovey romance anyway. But there are definitely stories that don’t have all those dark subjects, and if someone wants to write a platonic romance where the word love shows up between these two, more power to them! But you don’t get to say everyone in the world can never do a single thing in their fiction. People can write whatever they want! And you get to decide not to read it! Everyone wins.

Because love and respect would never exist between these two characters. No matter how good the writer is, some things just don't work. Just become them ooc, that's what happens most lol

I feel sorry for you. Where is your sense of curiosity, open-mindedness? Maybe you could never write these things convincingly, but some people are more talented than you (don’t take this too personally; no matter how good we are, there are always people more talented than us). It’s okay to not like things and to avoid them based on your comfort level/interest/etc etc, but just because you’re not looking doesn’t mean that such amazing jaw-dropping works that make you believe in the unbelievable aren’t out there.

💖

[sadnymi]

Loml p3

[Part one][Part two]

[Mattheo riddle × reader] [TTPD Masterlist]

Words:2k

"Y/N?" I called softly.

No response.

"Y/N," I called again, shaking her gently. "Y/N, wake up. Please, baby, wake up."

No response. Her body was limp in my arms, her chest no longer rising and falling. A numbness spread through me, colder than ice, more suffocating than the darkest abyss. I shook her harder, my voice rising in desperation.

"Y/N! You can’t do this to me! Please, wake up!"

My heart pounded erratically in my chest, the blood roaring in my ears. I held her closer, cradling her head against my shoulder, her lifeless form sagging against me.

"Y/N, you can't leave me," I whispered, my voice breaking. "You promised me forever. You promised to never leave. You can't break that promise now. Please, baby, come back to me."

But there was no answer. The silence was deafening, each second stretching into eternity. I pressed my forehead against hers, my tears falling onto her cold skin.

"Y/N, I love you," I said. "I love you more than anything in this world. Please, don't go. Don't leave me here alone."

Her hand, still entwined with mine, was growing colder by the moment. I squeezed it desperately, as if my touch alone could bring her back. But her fingers remained still, unmoving.

"Damn you," I screamed, lifting my head to glare at my father. "Damn you to hell! This is your fault! You did this!"

He stood in the doorway."It's better this way," he said coldly."You needed to be free of her."

"Free?" I spat, my voice hoarse with fury. "This isn't freedom. This is hell. You’ve condemned me to a living hell."

My father turned away, his silhouette dark against the dim light. "You'll understand in time," he said.

I looked down at her. I kissed her forehead, my lips lingering on her cold skin.

"No," I said, my voice trembling with fury and sorrow. "You will understand now. I know it's not love that ties you to me because you can't love. You don't even know what it means."

He turned back to me and for the first time in my life, I saw pain in my father's eyes. It was fleeting, a flash of something almost human before his mask of cold indifference slid back into place. He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

"I'm just another one of your horcruxes, aren't I?" I spat, my voice filled with bitter realization. "That's why you care so much. That's why my life is important to you."

He shook his head. "Mattheo—"

"I figured it out at a very young age," I continued, ignoring his attempt to speak. "But I was just a kid who wanted to believe otherwise, to believe that you really did care about me."

His voice was barely a whisper, filled with an emotion I'd never heard from him before. "I do care, Mattheo."

"Care?" I scoffed, my anger boiling over. "If I die, you lose another horcrux. That's all I am to you, a piece of your soul."

I looked down at Y/N's lifeless body, my heart breaking all over again. "But now," I said, my voice hardening with resolve, "her life is going to be as important to you."

I raised my wand, my mind focusing on the ancient, forbidden spell.

"Animus Vinculum," I whispered, the words heavy with power. A golden light enveloped Y/N and me, tying our souls together in a bond that meant if one of us died, the other would follow.

My father lunged forward, his eyes wide with horror. "Stop!"

But it was too late. The spell was cast, and I felt a searing pain as the magic took hold. My father raised his wand, casting another spell I didn't recognize. A silvery light burst from his wand, intertwining with the golden glow of my own spell.

"Protego Vitae,".

The two spells collided, their energies merging and twisting around us. I could feel Y/N's life force flickering, the connection between us growing stronger. My father’s spell created a barrier, a protective shield around Y/N’s soul, intertwining it with mine but also stabilizing it.

I looked up at him, confusion and anger warring within me. "What have you done?"

I looked down at Y/N, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw her chest moving, her breaths shallow but steady.

Relief washed over me, my entire body trembling as I held her closer. I gently pushed her hair away from her face, my fingers brushing against her soft skin. With my other hand, I grasped hers, bringing it to my lips and kissing it tenderly.

"She’s coming back," I whispered, my voice trembling.

My father stood there, watching us. He met my gaze, the flicker of pain still present in his eyes. "I expect you to come back to the manor ," he said, his voice flat. Then, without another word, he turned and left.

I looked down at Y/N again, her body began to stir, the color slowly returning to her cheeks. Her breathing became steadier, stronger. I carefully lifted her in my arms, cradling her body against my chest. The reality of how close I had come to losing her made my chest ache.

Carrying her to the bed, I gently laid her down, smoothing the blankets around her. I knelt beside her, my hand never leaving hers, my eyes fixed on her peaceful face.

"I'm here, love," I whispered, my voice filled with resolve. "I'm never leaving you again."

Her breathing remained steady, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. I kissed her hand once more.

I carefully cleaned the blood from her face and neck. Her skin was warm under my fingertips, a sign of life that made my heart swell with relief.

I lay beside her the entire night, never letting go of her hand. The room was silent except for the soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing. I watched her intently, my eyes heavy with exhaustion but my heart unwilling to surrender to sleep. Eventually, fatigue won, and I drifted off, my hand still clasping hers.

I woke to a faint stirring beside me. Y/N's fingers twitched in mine, and her breathing quickened. I opened my eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep. She was beginning to wake, her body shifting restlessly.

"Y/N," I murmured, sitting up and leaning over her. "It's okay, love. I'm here."

Her eyes fluttered open, wide with panic. She gasped, her gaze darting around the room before settling on me. "Mattheo?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I... I died."

"No, love," I said softly, my heart breaking at the fear in her eyes. "You didn't die. You're here with me. You're alive."

She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "I felt it, Mattheo. I felt myself slipping away. How am I here?" She looked around wildly, her breathing ragged. “No, no, I remember... I thought I was dead... I thought I lost you.”

“You didn’t lose me,” I assured her, trying to keep my own voice steady. “I’m here, love. I’m here.”

She started to sob, her body trembling with the force of it. “I thought you broke your promise. I thought you left me.”

I cupped her face in my hands, my thumbs wiping away her tears. “I would never leave you. Never. I promised, and I meant it.”

“But it felt so real,” she cried, burying her face in her hands. “I was so scared.”

I pulled her hands away gently and placed them on my chest, right over my heart. “Feel that? I’m here. Alive. With you.”

She clung to me then, her fingers digging into my shirt."I thought... I thought you hated me. I thought you left me. I thought you broke your promise," she sobbed, each word a dagger to my heart. "But you're here. I knew you would never do this to me."

“I’m here,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around her tightly. “And I’m never going anywhere.”

She clambered onto my lap, holding me as if her life depended on it. I stroked her hair, pressing gentle kisses to the top of her head.

she pulled back slightly, her eyes searching mine. "But, How... how am I alive?" she asked, her voice still thick with emotion.

I took her face in my hands, my thumb brushing away a tear that escaped. "I couldn't let you go," I said, my voice breaking. "I cast a spell, an old and forbidden one, to bind our souls together. My father... he helped stabilize it."

My gaze steady and full of resolve. "It means that our lives are connected now. If one of us falters, the other will feel it.”

She looked up at me, her eyes wide with realization. "That spell... it could have killed you."

I nodded, my thumb brushing a tear from her cheek.

Her hands cupped my face, her forehead resting against mine. "Are our souls bonded now?" she whispered.

"Yes," I replied softly.

"Good," she said, a small smile breaking through her tears. "Because I would never live in a world where you're not a part of it."

I pulled back slightly, my lips still brushing hers. "I would have to go back."

She looked into my eyes, determination shining through her tears. "Take me with you."

"It's fucked up there, Y/N. It's dangerous. I can’t—"

"I don’t care," she interrupted. "Wherever you go, I go."

I stared into her eyes, my heart swelling with love and fear. I knew what awaited us, but I also knew I couldn't leave her behind. Not now, not ever.

I hesitated, my heart aching at the thought of putting her in danger again not again I can’t go through that again. “It's not safe."

"I'm strong," she insisted. "I can handle it."

"I know," I replied, my voice filled with both pride and fear.

She held my gaze, unwavering. "I trust you, Mattheo. I choose you. I'll always choose to be with you, anywhere."

A small, wry smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Well, in that case, I should probably mention that I might have also set the whole manor on fire."

Her eyes widened in surprise before she burst into laughter.

The world could crumble into ashes and flames, and I would let it, if it meant keeping her safe. My father, I know, now trembles with fear for her safety just as I do. But I won't leave her behind—I can't. I will return, but she will come with me.

If my father expects me to lead one day, I will. But I won’t wait for that day to be handed to me. I will seize it now. I will take the mantle, and with it, I will ensure that this conflict ends before it has a chance to begin. I will end the war before its first battle cry, before its first blood is shed.

For her, I will make the world bend to my will. For her, I will bring peace out of chaos. She is my world, and for her, I will reshape the future.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

[lilithofpenandbook]

It makes me SO MAD when people say "there are kind Slytherins 🥺🥺🥺" and show a picture of fucking SLUGHORN

Slughorn? You mean "oh I didn't think a muggleborn would be this talented" Slughorn?

Slughorn as in the Slughorn who told Tom Riddle, a child KNOWN for being a lil twisted, about HORCRUXES just to look good?

Slughorn who didn't even notice a fucking cult being formed in his own house???

People like to blame Dumbledore for the cult, but tell me why it's his fault and not the HEAD. OF. HOUSE? Dumbledore isn't an all powerful all seeing wizard! He's a human who happens to be intelligent and skilled at magic but NOT All Seeing! How is he gonna know Tom Riddle's forming a cult when one) he wasn't even HEADMASTER and two) SLUGHORN was Tom's head of house and should have been aware of it happening UNDER. HIS. NOSE?

Like, even in Snape's time, where the fuck was Horace Slughorn? Where was he when the Mauraders were abusing his own student? Where was he when Lucius and the others were grooming the younger children? Where was he when all of this was happening?

Yes, McGonagall should have disciplined her students. But Slughorn's under a greater responsibility to protect his. Yes, headmaster Dumbledore should have probably intervened in the cult forming. But Slughorn's under a greater responsibility to intervene and inform the headmaster.

For fuck's sake, he wasn't even a good teacher! How did a 16 year old child manage to correct all the incorrect potions in the book and not the FUCKING. TEACHER?!

Horace Slughorn is NOT a "kind Slytherin".

He's the worst one.

[saintsenara]

If Voldemort had repented and felt remorse like Harry offered him, what exactly would have happened to him? Would his soul have been healed and he forgiven? I mean, I’m pretty sure he would definitely be thrown into Azkaban for life, but would he be normal again? Like, no longer that bald, no-nose snake face creep and his soul intact.

thank you very much for the ask, @hollyparker! i can think of no question more suitable for this season of allhallowtide.

canon is clear that genuine remorse would have resulted in the fissures in voldemort's soul being healed:

"Isn't there any way of putting yourself back together?" Ron asked. "Yes," said Hermione with a hollow smile, "but it would be excruciatingly painful." "Why? How do you do it?" asked Harry.  "Remorse," said Hermione. "You've got to really feel what you've done. There's a footnote. Apparently the pain of it can destroy you. I can't see Voldemort attempting it somehow, can you?"

so, the only thing necessary to trigger the healing of the soul is the feeling of remorse. there's no need to perform any sort of public penance, nor even to actually say out loud that you're sorry. you just need to be sorry, and the slate of your soul is wiped clean.

[that is - as we'll come to below - your salvation is achieved by faith alone, rather than by works and rituals...]

so yes, voldemort would be forgiven. but only in the theological - rather than the psychological, social, or legal - sense of the word.

his victims wouldn't suddenly be expected to be fine with him, his slate wouldn't be wiped clean in the eyes of the wizarding legal system, and he would still be expected to be punished for what he'd done. if he survives putting his soul back together, instead of dying on the spot, he's definitely looking at life in azkaban - if not a capital sentence - and he'd deserve it. and if he dies, he's still going to be remembered as an evil man, rather than the history of his crimes being erased by his deathbed repentance. he would simply rot in azkaban and/or die with an intact soul.

but what about with an intact appearance?

canon doesn't ever discuss what would happen to voldemort's body if he healed his soul, and either option - that his appearance would revert or that it wouldn't - is justifiable. but my view is certainly that healing his soul would trigger the transformation of his appearance.

[i don't have a preference on whether this means he would revert to the body he had when he first split his soul - that is, his appearance would be as it was when he was sixteen - or if he'd be his canonical age, just with a human face. either makes one hell of a premise for a fic.]

voldemort's physical degradation is directly caused by making horcruxes - right down to the very first time he splits his soul - and it accelerates as he goes beyond the norms of even this darkest of magic. the version of him which visits hepzibah smith - who has made two horcruxes: the diary and the ring - is very thin, very pale, and heavily implied to look quite sickly, and he also has a red gleam in his eyes. the version who comes to see dumbledore for a job interview - who has made four or five horcruxes: the diary, the ring, the cup, the diadem, and possibly the locket - is unnaturally pale, has skin which looks like melted wax, has eyes which are starting to look permanently bloodshot, and [much to harry's disappointment] is no longer good-looking. creating harry - rather than his resurrection ritual - is what seems to cause his looks to degrade further, since the voldemort of philosopher's stone is described facially in identical ways to the voldemort of goblet of fire, although the creation of nagini probably makes these features even more horrifying.

as a narrative device, voldemort's physical changes has an enormous amount in common with the gradual disfigurement of the portrait in the picture of dorian gray.

in both texts, damage visited upon the soul - and, indeed, damage visited upon the soul in pursuit of immortality - is visited upon the face [although in dorian's case, this damage is confined to the portrait, while his flesh-and-blood self lives behind a mask of false youth and beauty]. at the end of the novel, dorian - horrified at the portrait's appearance - resolves to mend his ways, but only does so half-heartedly [by deciding that not seducing a woman he feels nothing for is enough to cancel out murder and driving two people to suicide], which causes no change to the portrait. in a fit of rage, he destroys the portrait rather than attempting true repentance. this kills him, and when his body is discovered his appearance is the monstrous one of the painting. that is, he - like voldemort - finally has to wear the damage to his soul on his face.

from which we can reasonably suppose that the impact of true repentance on the soul would reflect similarly on the face. voldemort being returned to his former humanity - then - would be the proof [since, as we've seen, he wouldn't need to prove his remorse through works or words] that his repentance was genuine and he had - again, only in the theological sense of the word - been forgiven.

but he's still going to be thrown in azkaban, or hurled through the veil, or die on the spot even if he's pretty again. it doesn't change anything about what he's done on earth.

what it changes is his experience in the afterlife.

the text approaches the possibility of voldemort's remorse very interestingly. by which i mean, it presents it not just as a purgative act, but as a quasi-baptismal one.

the wizarding world canonically has two stable spheres of existence - life and afterlife. there's no suggestion in canon that this afterlife attaches a moral price to admission - that is, it doesn't seem to function as [the christian] heaven, and nor does there seem to be an in-universe version of [the christian] hell - but it does require something: an intact soul.

in between these two spheres is a liminal space - the theshold between life and death which appears to harry as king's cross. this threshold exists so that the newly dead [those who aren't harry, whose experience is unique, at least] can make a choice - to move on to the afterlife or to return to the sphere of the living as a ghost.

there's some implication in canon that it takes some people longer to accept the need to move on to the afterlife than others - and so there's some sense of the threshold serving a similar purpose to purgatory, and serving as an intermediate space in which an intact soul sheds all the baggage it's carried with it from life before it settles happily into death.

but in voldemort's case, it represents something very different... limbo.

and, specifically, the limbo of infants.

this term refers to the permanent - rather than liminal - sphere in which the souls of unbaptised babies linger, unable - since they've never been cleansed of original sin via baptism, but also haven't committed any sins of their own [since, y'know, they're babies] - either to access heaven or to be condemned to hell.

within the metaphysics of canon, then, voldemort's mutilation of his soul has a similar impact to the state of unbaptism. it prevents him from moving across the threshold between life and death, thus causing him to get stuck forever - in a baby-like form! - in the liminal space of king's cross.

and this is fascinating.

as deathly hallows reaches its climax, the themes and tropes the doylist narrative draws upon are overtly christian. harry freely chooses to die for the salvation of the world, rises again from the dead, and then protects anyone who believes in him from coming to harm at voldemort's hands with the supernatural force of his love. numerous other characters have arcs in the final book which have similarly christian overtones - lily as the virgin mary [who crushes the serpent's head, before her son defeats him entirely], dumbledore as john the baptist [who teaches and guides harry-as-christ, but is subordinate to him in greatness], and ron as st peter [who abandons harry-as-christ and then returns to him].

but - crucially - its christian tropes are not simply christian. they are protestant.

and voldemort - as much as his christian-literature archetype is satan [hence all the snake imagery] - is approached by the text, especially when it comes to the text's treatment of his horcruxes, with christian allegories which are catholic.

the horcruxes are relics, and his belief that they - rather than faith in the power of love as the text understands it - will save him is delusional. jkr has heavily implied in several interviews that they are created via a cannibalistic ritual - which calls to mind the doctrine of transubstantiation in the catholic eucharist. there are seven of them, just as there are seven sacraments in the catholic church, since voldemort believes seven to be the most powerful magical number - something he's wrong about, since the seven-fold power of his horcruxes is nothing in the face of harry's faith in the trinity of the hallows. and his clinging to them condemns him to a post-death state which calls the limbo of infants - which, while not official catholic doctrine, is a hypothetical concept only catholic theology entertains; all mainstream protestant and orthodox denominations reject it entirely - to mind.

it's a really interesting example of what both the doylist and watsonian texts believe him to have transgressed through the creation of horcruxes.

because, of course, he's not condemned to limbo for the sin of murder, he's condemned to it because he puts his faith in something other than faith [or love] alone.

[metalomagnetic]

Snippet for It runs

So, I injured myself, and it's difficult finding a comfortable position that would allow me to write, however, since I am now unable to work, I am doing my best to finish the chapter for It runs.

Unfortunately, I can only bear to sit up when I take my pills, and my pills make me a little...ugh...high, so I'll have to revisit what I write when I'm clear of mind.

Until then, here is a little snippet of a tortured mind on pain pills and muscle relaxants.

***

It’s an early afternoon, he’s seated at his desk, and he knows he has to take the ring off, he knows he doesn’t have much longer, that the Horcrux is gaining too much power, too quickly.

So Sirius tries removing it, and he slides it upwards, all the way to the second knuckle-

He blinks, and he’s in Tom’s flat again. His head throbs, he feels nauseous, disorientated at the change of scenery, from day to night, from his office to Tom’s place.

Tom kneels before him, crying. “Don’t abandon me,” he begs. “Please, don’t throw me away! I’ve been alone for so long, Sirius, in the dark, blind, deaf and cold. Please, please don’t throw me away!”

Snap out of it, Sirius tells himself. Wake up!

He blinks, and he’s in his office, collapsed near the desk and his chair.

It’s frightening the ring has this level of control already, that it can control him even when he’s not sleeping-

“Please!” He’s back in the flat, before he knows it, Tom still kneeling, holding on to Sirius’ legs, much like Harry does when he wants something. “I’ve been alone all my life. No one wanted me. No one ever wanted me! Not even him! He threw me away, too- Sirius!”

It breaks his heart, even as something weak and fading fast in his mind yells at him that it’s all a trick, that it’s just a dark artefact using everything it can to keep its hold of Sirius.

But-

He can’t ignore it. It might be a Horcrux, but Voldemort is real, Tom Riddle was once real, and alone, and Sirius cannot abandon him.

It knows it, too, that is why it’s using the word ‘alone’ so much, because it knows it’s something that Sirius always associated with Voldemort, that it always hurt him to imagine him as a child, with no one in his corner.

“You have to stop,” Sirius tells him. “You’re too aggressive, you’re taking too much.”

“I’ll be good,” Tom begs. “Please! You won’t even know I’m here anymore, I’ll stay hidden, anything you want, just don’t throw me away!”

Sirius kneels in front of him, and Tom is so quick, throwing his long arms around Sirius’ neck, hiding his face in Sirius’ shoulder.

“You’ll possess me,” Sirius says, so, so tired.

“No, no, I won’t! I promise! I’ll be good-“

“You’re lying,” he whispers.

Tom is an impression of Voldemort, an amalgamation of his traits and memories, but he’s not the real deal. He doesn’t lie as smoothly as Voldemort.

Maybe because he was too young when he made the Horcrux, or maybe it’s just that a Horcrux could never be as complex as a real human being. Whatever it is, Sirius sees through his lies.

But he can’t stay indifferent to Tom’s pain, his desperation as he hugs Sirius.

That is real, even if Tom isn’t. It’s Sirius’ pain and fear manifested through Tom, stolen by Tom, replicated to perfection, and Sirius cannot stay indifferent to it.

“Let me go.”

“Don’t-“

“I won’t throw you away, but I need you to let me go, now. If you don’t, I’ll pull myself out and then I will take the ring off. I’ll throw you into the fucking ocean.”

Tom draws back, and his eyes are clear, calculating, even as tears are drying on his face.

“You threw him away. He’s suffering, and you won’t help him. Is it not enough you abandoned him? Now you want to get rid of me, too? He gave me to you, trusted you with my safety, and now you’re thinking of betraying him again?”

“I didn’t betray-"

“I know your every thought, all your emotions. You cannot hide from me. I’m meant to absorb it all. And I did the same when he wore me. I saw his every thought, I absorbed every feeling you awoke inside him. His trust in you was unwavering. He didn’t doubt you for a second, when he decided to give me away, when he took me off and transferred me to you. He loved you.”

Tom’s eyes narrow. “Traitor,” he whispers, and he pushes Sirius, hard-

Sirius blinks, and he’s on his back, in his office. He’s shaking, and it takes several tries to stand up.

But it’s quiet, he feels alone, Tom retreating, diminishing his influence over Sirius.

He breathes easier, and he hadn’t realised it’s been hard to breathe lately.