Chapter Text
I ran a hand over my face and sighed in frustration. I didn’t know what to do, and as far as I knew I had two options: lie or tell the truth. Whatever the answer, I didn’t feel like I would be rid of the thing sitting in front of me — waiting with horrifying calm, while his posture clashed with the environment around us, as if he didn’t belong in that place. I dare say: as if he were above us mere mortals. And I didn’t doubt that he felt that way — or if he felt anything at all.
I swallowed hard, gripping the mug of butterbeer — to feel the cold in my hands, I needed to anchor myself to something. I thought about telling him, ‘This is none of your business!’, but I believe I would be cursed or worse. After all, he could feign seriousness; however, his intensely red eyes watched me with hunger. Restless, I looked away and replied:
“I’m running away.” I chose to rip the band-aid off all at once, opting for the truth. “I couldn’t stay at my aunt and uncle’s house, so I left... um... I ended up at a hotel around here.”
My fingers tightened around the mug, and I felt my body heavy from all this damn stress. I was fucking exhausted to be merely intelligent and come up with a plan to get out of this situation. And if I were honest, I only wished this conversation would end so I could go back to the hotel bed and sleep. So even feeling compelled to attack him, I chose to be apathetic.
“I don’t know whether to consider you innocent or foolish.” Said Voldemort/Tom (whoever he was now), letting a half-smile appear on his lips, almost imperceptible.
I stopped staring at him and began paying attention to what he was saying. Catching the mockery in his words, I answered without even thinking. So much for being apathetic — it was certain I wouldn’t manage it. Who am I trying to fool? The hatred in this moment only makes me want to kill him.
“Hey, the fool is you!.” I exclaimed, glaring at him angrily, feeling the irritation from minutes ago return. “And it’s not like I asked for your opinion and...”
Shit! Why can’t I hold back this fire that burns inside me every time this bastard opens his mouth! I dared to look at him and to my surprise a predatory/maniacal smile slid across his lips.
“Oh, on the contrary.” He replied in a low but extremely dangerous tone. “You practically invited me to meddle in your life when you decided to run away and tell me about it, like the troubled boy you are.”
“I-I’m not troubled, you fucking lunatic!”
“As much as this amuses me... my patience has limits”. His magic overflowed through the hall, crushing me beneath his dark and oppressive presence. “I am being merciful with you; you should thank me and be polite. Because if you continue behaving like a petulant child I will be tempted to wash your mouth out with soap. Furthermore, there will not be a third warning.”
I swallowed hard, looking away once more, aware of how contradictory I was being. I didn’t want to argue, yet that was exactly what I was doing. So what should I do now? I wanted so badly for it to end, but that damned thing didn’t seem willing to let me go so soon. I didn’t understand why he kept talking when his only desire was to kill me. That bastard was driving me insane!
“What do you want me to say?.” I sighed, resigning myself to my fate.
“Much better, Mr. Potter.” He stated, returning to a serious expression. “It intrigues me that, among so many places, you chose to stop precisely in Knockturn Alley. Why? I know the Weasleys would welcome you... or even the esteemed Order of the Phoenix.” He added ironically, drumming his fingers on the table.
“I didn’t know where to go…” I confessed. “Even though I have some properties in my name, I don’t even know if they’re habitable. I thought staying in Knockturn Alley would be the last place anyone would look for me. I don’t think my friends or the Order will understand my reasons.”
“And what would those be?”
The thought of telling him to go to hell was still present, as was the urge to get up and leave. Tom/Voldemort — the devil himself — was leaving me confused and destabilized. This persona of his was completely different from the one I met in the Ministry Atrium; besides the obvious change in appearance, that chaotic madness wasn’t here. There was something else, however, that didn’t compare to that... Merlin, why am I still trying to understand.
“Why? Why are you sitting here treating me like an acquaintance and asking all these questions when months ago you wanted to kill me? You make no sense at all, you maniac! Did your obsession with me all my years at Hogwarts simply disappear? Is this some sick joke of yours?” I asked using a neutral tone, but at the bottom of each word there was desperation and hysteria. “Why the sudden interest? Why the second you saw me didn’t you raise your wand and shout those damned words? What is the point of this conversation?”
I questioned him without caring about the consequences — to hell with them! — my week, I mean, my year was already shit, I don’t need to add the madness of the sociopathic psychopath in front of me. ‘He can go fuck himself!’ I thought, feeling the mug crack in my hands as my magic intensified around me, knocking over a few chairs due to its force. Tom/Voldemort kept staring at me as if I were nothing more than a cockroach; there was no expression... his face remained cold, even though I felt his own magic prodding at mine.
“Because killing you now would be… a waste.” His tone was calm; even so, I could perceive the danger in every word. “I thought about ignoring you, after all, you are no longer useful to me. But seeing you here awakened my curiosity and I am not usually indifferent to it.” He tilted his head slightly and looked at me in a way I couldn’t comprehend. “Near me, you are still just a child.” The disdain leaked from every syllable. “Why should I concern myself? And let’s say that… my perspective has changed.”
‘What the fuck is this bastard talking about?’ I thought, dropping the mug and resting my sweaty hands on my thighs. Squeezing until I felt a sting, I needed to focus on something else, yet my mouth acted differently. I murmured:
“You were very concerned months ago...”
Which was a terrible idea. His magic overflowed again, pinning me in place, squeezing my chest and burning my skin. It was aggressive, unnatural, perverse and pulsating — surrounding me like a predator ambushing its prey. I began to sweat, my heart beat faster, but I didn’t look away from his eyes.
“You have a death wish, don’t you, boy?” The question came out all wrong and for a moment I thought I was facing that noseless thing.
“I-I...” I couldn’t speak or move, I was paralyzed and afraid to act.
The silence that followed was excruciating and was only broken by his sigh.
“This conversation tires me.” He stated, restraining his magic. It was as if it had never been there. He stood up and finished. “I suggest, Mr. Potter, that you find another place to hide and do not get into trouble or in my way.”
‘How is he leaving? What the fuck is happening?’ The thoughts boiled in my mind and, if before I was already completely lost, now I felt like I was drowning in a turbulent sea. What kind of fucking day was this! Without resisting, I asked:
“Will you come after me?”
“That depends entirely on you, Mr. Potter.”
Without any other information, threat or ironic word, he turned and walked out the door as if my presence did not bother him.
*
I felt frustrated and completely confused and lying sprawled on the bed staring at the ceiling did nothing to help the turmoil in my mind. Why didn’t he kill me? Why did he look different? Why? There are so many questions I don’t even know where to begin, and even questioning him I received no answers. Whatever he was planning left me lost and afraid — afraid of what he would do.
That bastard ruined my life, took my family — turned my school years into a survival game year after year. And now killing me would be a waste? What the hell is that? I didn’t know what he wanted and that was even worse. I closed my eyes, but his voice still echoed in my mind. I turned to one side, then onto my back, then to the side again — tossing and turning and even the silence felt like a threat. It reached a point where Hedwig left her perch, flew to the edge of the bed and began pecking my foot. Huffing, I sat up as she came even closer, until I began sliding my fingers through her feathers. The contact eased some of the tension in my shoulders and made me think more clearly.
There was no use continuing with that anguish — it would lead me nowhere. Besides, my quota of solving problems had already exceeded its limit for today. That encounter had wiped out any functional neuron I still had left. I might be a coward or something like that, but I needed to move. My body demanded it, my mind craved a distraction… because if I thought a little more about that homicidal lunatic, the one who would end up committing murder would be me.
Decided, I got up — Hedwig contented herself with staying nestled in the blankets — opened my trunk and took the folders, searching among them for the names of my properties, both the Potters’ and the Blacks’. The first to stand out were Grimmauld Place and what remained of my parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow; however, neither of them seemed truly habitable — for me. Looking further, I discovered others: a country house in Cornwall, inherited from the Potters, and Black Castle in Wiltshire. There was also a property registered outside England, in the United States — Massachusetts, likewise linked to the Potter lineage. Lastly, another country house in Scotland, belonging to the Blacks.
I had heard from Hermione that these inherited houses were tied to our bloodlines, which, consequently, offered us a certain protection. Something about blood wards, magical inheritance… things like that. However, I would need to go to the residence and activate the wards there — I need books on the subject, I mentally noted to look later. I crossed my legs and observed the documents scattered over the mattress, which was the best place? The farthest or the most obvious? As much as I didn’t want to take the words of that homicidal being seriously, I have to admit he was right in telling me to leave Knockturn Alley. It may be the least obvious place, but for a whisper to reach Dumbledore it won’t be difficult. And the Headmaster will not let me stay. If he never listened to me before, he won’t now.
Besides, I don’t want to meet any of them at the moment — as much as I know they love me… I don’t know if they would understand me. For most, it will be as if I had committed a betrayal. But anyway, I need to focus; if I continue in these thoughts, I’ll spend the night brooding. Slapping my face, I stood up and began getting ready. I threw everything into the trunk, closed it and shrank it, storing it in my pocket. I did the same with Hedwig’s cage, while she preferred to stay huddled on my shoulder.
Since I had no idea how to reach any of the properties, I decided to board the Knight Bus. Probably Stan or Mr. Prang would know how to get close to one of them — in this case, Black Castle in Wiltshire. With everything stored, I decided to go to the reception to return the room key, the witch barely looked at me so I left it on the counter and left the inn.
The streets were not as crowded as before, even so I pulled up my hood and walked through the alleys without looking at anyone. Hedwig did that for me — glaring at any wizard who looked at me the wrong way. It took about fifteen minutes to reach a quieter place and call the Knight Bus, I stopped leaning against the wall and waited. Another fifteen minutes until the bus arrived and Stan greeted me in his usual confused manner. He promised to drop me near Wiltshire, but told me to relax, because the trip would be long — they still needed to pick up other clients along the way. I preferred to lie down in one of the beds on the second floor, even though it swayed terribly. Hedwig stayed safely on one of the pillows.
With my eyes closed, I wished I had made a good choice and hoped the house would be in habitable condition or at least not try to kill me.
With my luck, I doubt nothing.