As Harry sat by the lake, waves of frustration and sadness crashing over him, he felt the weight of his burdens pressing down harder than ever before. The peaceful serenity of the water seemed to mock him, contrasting sharply with the turmoil in his mind.
He clenched his fists, his thoughts swirling in a tempest of anguish. Why did it always have to be him? Why was he the one chosen to face constant peril, to endure loss after loss? The memory of his parents, forever out of reach, pierced his heart with a pain that never dulled.
And then there was Voldemort, the specter haunting his every move. Why did everyone doubt him? Couldn't they see the truth he was desperately trying to convey? Cedric's death weighed heavily on his conscience, a grim reminder of the dangers lurking in the shadows.
The longing for a normal life, free from the shackles of fame and fear, burned within him. How he yearned to be "Just Harry" again, to blend into the crowd without the burden of destiny upon his shoulders.
As Harry pondered his circumstances, a nagging question persisted in his mind: Why him? He couldn't help but feel inadequate compared to his friends. Hermione's brilliance and unwavering loyalty, Ron's steadfast friendship—they were qualities he admired but often felt he lacked.
In moments of doubt, Harry couldn't shake the unsettling thought that perhaps he wasn't destined to be the hero everyone believed him to be. Despite his best efforts to uphold the values of the light side, there lurked a darker side within him—a side he feared acknowledging.
Deep down, Harry knew he possessed a latent talent for the dark arts. It was a secret he guarded closely, afraid of what it might reveal about his true nature. The allure of power, the temptation to embrace the shadows—it whispered to him in his darkest moments, threatening to consume him if he ever lost control.
Despite his reservations, Harry couldn't deny the truth: there were wizards far more skilled and virtuous than him. So why was he the chosen one? Why was the weight of the wizarding world's fate thrust upon his shoulders?
The answer eluded him, shrouded in the mysteries of destiny and prophecy. Suddenly, Harry's consciousness faded into darkness, the otherworldly voice echoed in his mind, The voice seemed to be everywhere, and it felt like three different voices squished together in unison.
Harry Potter... Do not grieve child. Things your brain will be unable to comprehend are at play here. This is your destiny Harry Potter, why?, you ask. Well we'll show you child.. We'll show you.
And without a warning Harry almost crashed face first into the floor of the great hall. He absent mindedly straightened his robes, and looked around. He did not recognize a single face here. What is going on? Where was he? He also was transparent, like a ghost, but he wasn't seen by anyone.
As Harry stood invisible among the bustling corridors of Hogwarts, the voices of the Ravenclaw girls drifted to his ears like whispers carried on the wind.
"Psst, did you hear?" one girl murmured, leaning in conspiratorially to her friends.
"Hear what?" another girl replied, her curiosity piqued.
"Riddle has eyes for Nyx," the first girl whispered, her tone tinged with excitement.
"Riddle?" the second girl exclaimed, a hint of disbelief coloring her voice. "Why is it always the hottest guys around? Do they all have to like Nyx?"
The third girl chimed in with a sigh, "Oh Circe, tell me about it. It's like she's got some kind of enchantment on them or something."
Giggles erupted among the group as they continued down the corridor, unaware of the invisible presence lingering among them.
Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of amusement at the conversation he had overheard. Even in the midst of his own trials and tribulations, the everyday dramas of teenage life at Hogwarts carried on, oblivious to the larger forces at play.
But as he watched the students go about their day, a sense of nostalgia washed over him, reminding him of simpler times before the weight of destiny had been thrust upon his shoulders.
With a wistful sigh, Harry stood their and when he finally processed the information he overheard, a sense of intrigue washed over him. Could it be that Tom Riddle, the young wizard who would one day become the dark lord Voldemort, harbored feelings for someone named Nyx?
The revelation added a new layer of complexity to Harry's understanding of the past. He had always known Tom Riddle as the embodiment of evil, a figure shrouded in darkness and cruelty. But to imagine him as a young student, experiencing emotions as ordinary as infatuation, seemed almost surreal.
Despite the darkness that would ultimately consume him, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for the boy Tom Riddle once was. Perhaps, in another life, things could have been different. But fate had other plans, and the path to darkness lay ahead, waiting to ensnare him in its grip.
As Harry pondered the implications of what he had heard, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than met the eye. The threads of destiny were woven in mysterious ways, and the revelation of Tom Riddle's feelings for Nyx was but one piece of a larger puzzle.
The Gryffindor girl's voice cut through the bustling noise of the Hogwarts corridors, filled with excitement and anticipation. "Nyx! Nyx! Come here fast!"
Nyx, clad in Slytherin robes, approached with a calm demeanor, her expression unreadable. Harry couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between Nyx and himself, albeit with a touch of elegance that set her apart.
"What's the commotion about?" Nyx inquired, her tone neutral.
The Gryffindor girl practically bounced with enthusiasm as she relayed the gossip. "Did you hear who has a crush on you? THE Slytherin head boy! Tom Riddle, out of all the boys!"
A flicker of surprise crossed Nyx's features, barely noticeable to the casual observer. Harry, intrigued by the revelation, watched Nyx closely, trying to decipher her true emotions.
Nyx's response was measured, her voice betraying no hint of emotion. "It's probably just a rumor," she replied, her words carefully chosen.
The Gryffindor girl's enthusiasm seemed undiminished as she pressed on, eager for a reaction. "But wouldn't it be exciting if it were true? Imagine, the Slytherin head boy falling for you!"
Nyx offered a small smile, her eyes betraying a hint of amusement. "Perhaps," she conceded, though her tone remained guarded.
The scene changed and Harry found himself transported to the Slytherin common room, the air was thick with tension, and the young Tom Riddle stood at its center, exuding an aura of authority tinged with annoyance. His handsome features were marred by a scowl, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor.
Into the room strode a boy with long, blonde hair—undoubtedly a Malfoy, given his distinguished appearance. The boy bowed and knelt before Tom, addressing him with deference.
"Greetings, my lord."
Tom's gaze narrowed, his irritation evident.
"Abaraxas," he replied sharply, "I'd love to tell you I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm not."
The atmosphere grew heavier as Tom's glare bore into the kneeling figure before him.
"What rumor is going around the school?" he demanded, his voice edged with frustration. "How did that get out?"
Abaraxas, sensing the gravity of the situation, hesitated before responding.
"My lord, it seems there are whispers among the students...about your affections for a certain Slytherin girl."
A flicker of something unreadable passed across Tom's features, his mask of composure slipping for a moment before he regained control.
"Ridiculous," he spat, though a hint of uncertainty lingered beneath his confident facade.
Harry watched the exchange with a sense of unease, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. The connection between Tom Riddle's rumored feelings for Nyx and the conversation he overheard in the Gryffindor corridor began to crystallize in his mind.
Tom's voice cut through the tension in the room like a blade, his demand for answers echoing off the walls of the Slytherin common room.
"I want answers, Abaraxas. How did it get out? And most of all, did Nyx hear this?"
Abaraxas shifted uncomfortably under Tom's penetrating gaze, acutely aware of the gravity of the situation.
"My lord, I'm not sure how the rumor started," he began cautiously. "It seems to have spread among the students, but as for Nyx, I cannot say for certain if she's heard."
Tom's expression darkened at the mention of Nyx, a flicker of concern crossing his features before he masked it with a steely resolve.
"Find out," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "And ensure that this...gossip is put to rest."
As Abaraxas nodded in acquiescence and hurriedly exited the room, Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the young Tom Riddle. Despite his facade of confidence and control, there was a vulnerability lurking beneath the surface—an uncertainty born of the fear of exposure and rejection.
And as Tom muttered quietly to himself, "I hope not,"
Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he was witnessing a pivotal moment in the life of the wizard who would one day become the dark lord Voldemort. For in that fleeting glimpse of vulnerability, Harry glimpsed the humanity that still lingered within him—a humanity that, perhaps, held the key to his ultimate downfall.
As Tom sank into the plush chair, his fingers absently tracing the intricate design of the Slytherin locket adorning his neck, he braced himself for the intrusion of another unwanted visitor. However, his irritation melted away as he beheld the figure that entered the room—Nyx.
Nyx's amused smile sent a flutter of nerves through Tom, his composure momentarily faltering in her presence. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, unable to suppress the faint flush of color that crept into his cheeks as she addressed him.
"So, Tom," Nyx began, her tone teasing, "heard what the rumor mill has produced?"
Tom's mind raced as he searched for a suitable response, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he had to tread carefully, for Nyx was no ordinary Slytherin girl—she possessed a sharp intellect and an intuition that left him feeling exposed.
Summoning his trademark charm and wit, Tom flashed Nyx a confident smile, though the hint of vulnerability still lingered in his eyes.
"I'm afraid I've been out of the loop," he replied smoothly, his voice betraying none of the turmoil raging within him. "Care to enlighten me?"
Nyx's laughter danced through the air, a melodic sound that sent a shiver down Tom's spine.
"Oh, nothing of consequence," she replied casually, though her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Just the usual gossip about the Slytherin head boy and his mysterious affections."
A wave of relief washed over Tom as he realized Nyx hadn't heard the specifics of the rumor. Yet, beneath the surface, a seed of curiosity began to sprout—a curiosity that threatened to unravel the carefully constructed walls he had built around his heart.
Harry noted the soft sigh of relief escaping Tom's lips before Nyx interjected,
"It is rumored that You have feelings... For me."
As Nyx's words hung in the air, a palpable tension settled over the room, causing both Harry and Tom to sit tensely, their gazes locked on Nyx with bated breath. Harry silently willed Tom to navigate the situation with his usual poise and charm, knowing that the outcome could have far-reaching consequences.
Tom's mind raced as he searched for a response, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew that his next words could either diffuse the situation or exacerbate it, and the weight of the moment pressed heavily upon him.
Summoning every ounce of his composure, Tom offered Nyx a suave smile, though inwardly he braced himself for her reaction.
"Rumors are often just that—rumors," he replied smoothly, his voice betraying none of the unease swirling within him. "I wouldn't put too much stock in idle gossip."
Nyx regarded him with a knowing look, her expression unreadable.
"Of course," she said lightly, though a hint of amusement danced in her eyes. "After all, one can never trust the whispers of the rumor mill."
Relief flooded through Harry as he watched Tom deftly navigate the delicate conversation, his admiration for the young Slytherin head boy growing with each passing moment. Despite the weight of his own secrets and insecurities, Tom possessed a charisma and grace that seemed to effortlessly command the room.
A slytherin boy came in, a clad in Quidditch robes, with auburn hair and twinkling blue eyes that reminded Harry of Dumbledore. When the boy's eyes found Nyx, he exclaimed,
"What the fuck Nyx?!, the game is to start in minutes and you're here and haven't even changed to your Quidditch robes?, For Salazar's sake you're our seeker, come on!"
Nyx only grinned sheepishly in response, as she was being dragged away by the boy, the boy reminded him of Oliver Wood, his former Quidditch captain.
As Abaraxas and Orion Black entered the Slytherin common room, their presence elicited a tense atmosphere that hung heavy in the air. Harry couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between Orion and Sirius, his mind quickly making the connection to the Black family lineage.
Abraxas and Orion bowed deeply and knelt on one leg as they murmured a "my lord."
Tom's voice sliced through the tension in the room like a blade, his tone clipped and commanding as he addressed Abaraxas and Orion.
"Tell me," he demanded, his gaze piercing, "did you find the culprit for the rumor?"
Abaraxas and Orion exchanged a wary glance before Abaraxas spoke, his voice tinged with apprehension. "My lord," he began cautiously,
"we have conducted inquiries among the students, but as of yet, we have not been able to determine the source of the rumor."
Tom's scowl deepened, his frustration evident as he absorbed the news.
"And what of Nyx?" he pressed, his voice low and dangerous."Has she been implicated in any way?"
Orion shifted uncomfortably under Tom's intense scrutiny, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Nyx has not been implicated, my lord," he replied, his words careful and measured.
A tense silence descended upon the Slytherin common room as Tom absorbed the information, his mind churning with thoughts and suspicions. Harry watched from the sidelines, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon him as he witnessed the delicate dance of power and intrigue unfolding before him.
Tom's words cut through the air like a blade, his voice low and filled with a dangerous edge as he paced the Slytherin common room.
"I did not think so," he growled, his frustration boiling over into simmering rage. "When I find who did it, I'll Crucio them until they've gone mad!"
His declaration hung heavy in the air, sending a shiver down the spines of those in his presence. The threat of the Cruciatus Curse loomed like a dark cloud, casting a pall of fear over the room as Tom's anger radiated with palpable intensity.
Abaraxas and Orion exchanged uneasy glances, silently acknowledging the gravity of Tom's words. They knew better than to question the Slytherin head boy's authority, especially when his temper was at its peak.
As Tom continued to pace, his steps echoing ominously in the silence, Harry watched with a mixture of apprehension and concern. He couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for whoever had incurred Tom's wrath, knowing that the consequences of crossing him would be severe indeed.
Abaraxas asked,
"My lord... If its just a rumor.. Why worry about it?.. Or is it...true?."
Abaraxas's question hung in the air, a daring challenge to the authority of the Slytherin head boy. His words were laced with a hint of skepticism, a subtle insinuation that struck at the heart of Tom's control.
Tom's gaze hardened, his eyes blazing with fury as he turned to face Abaraxas. The air crackled with tension, the threat of violence looming like a storm on the horizon.
"Do you want me to crucio you, Abaraxas?"
Tom's voice was low and dangerous, each word dripping with venom. His tone brooked no dissent, no room for defiance.
Abaraxas recoiled slightly under Tom's intense glare, a bead of sweat forming on his brow as he realized the gravity of his words. He quickly lowered his gaze, bowing his head in submission.
"No, my lord," Abaraxas replied hastily, his voice barely above a whisper. "I apologize for my impertinence. It won't happen again."
Tom's expression softened slightly at Abaraxas's capitulation, though the fire in his eyes remained unabated. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he turned away, the tension in the room slowly dissipating as he resumed his pacing.
As Tom's frustration reached its boiling point, he vowed once more to find the culprit responsible for spreading the rumor about his feelings for Nyx. His voice dripped with venom as he declared his intent to use the Cruciatus Curse until they were driven to madness.
Orion and Abaraxas departed, leaving Tom to wrestle with his emotions in the solitude of the Slytherin common room. As he sank into a chair, trying to ease his troubled mind, a familiar figure entered the room—Charlus, a Slytherin boy with brown hair reminiscent of Theodore Nott.
Charlus approached Tom with concern etched on his features, his voice filled with genuine worry.
"Tom, are you alright?"
Tom's facade cracked, revealing a glimpse of vulnerability beneath the mask of stoicism.
"No, Charlus. No, I'm not," he confessed, his voice heavy with frustration. "Other than me, only you know that I liked Nyx, and you couldn't have said this, because we made an unbreakable vow! How did this get out?"
Running a hand through his disheveled hair, Tom looked to Charlus for answers, his trust in his friend evident despite the turmoil raging within him.
Harry observed the interaction with interest, noting the unique bond between Tom and Charlus. In the cutthroat world of Slytherin house, where alliances were fleeting and trust was a rare commodity, their friendship seemed to defy the odds, offering a glimpse of the genuine connection that lay beneath the surface.
Charlus regarded Tom with a mixture of sympathy and concern, his brow furrowed in thought. "I swear, Tom, I had nothing to do with it," he insisted earnestly. "I would never betray our trust or violate the terms of the unbreakable vow."
Tom's expression softened slightly at Charlus's words, a flicker of relief crossing his features.
"I believe you, Charlus," he replied, his voice tinged with gratitude. "Forgive me for doubting you. It's just...the thought of someone betraying me like this..."
Harry observed the exchange from the sidelines, his mind racing with questions and suspicions. The revelation of the unbreakable vow between Tom and Charlus added a new layer of complexity to the situation, raising doubts about who could have possibly leaked the rumor about Tom's feelings for Nyx.
Despite his reservations, Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Tom, whose trust had been betrayed in the most intimate of ways. The weight of the burden he carried was evident in the lines of his face, the tension in his posture as he grappled with the fallout of the rumor.
Charlus' smile widened suddenly as he said,
"You know Tom?, It's been rather obvious to those who know you well," he admitted candidly. "Your feelings for Nyx haven't exactly been a secret, especially not to someone like me."
Tom's cheeks flushed faintly at Charlus's straightforward assessment, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his demeanor.
"I suppose I haven't been as discreet as I thought," he conceded, a note of chagrin in his voice.
Charlus asked,"Tell me how was Nyx's reaction to the rumor anyway?"
Tom's expression softened as he considered Charlus's question, a hint of curiosity shining in his eyes.
"Nyx's reaction...," he mused,
"She seemed unfazed by it, to be honest," Tom replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. "I watched her closely, but she showed no sign of distress or disinterest. If anything, she seemed indifferent to the rumor."
Charlus nodded thoughtfully, processing Tom's words.
"Indifferent, you say?" he repeated, a note of intrigue in his voice. "That's...interesting. Perhaps it's not as big of a deal to her as we thought."
Tom shrugged slightly, a faint furrow appearing between his brows.
"Perhaps," he conceded. "But she's simply adept at masking her true emotions. Either way, it's...unsettling."
Charlus after a moment of thought said,"Maybe you should confess to her Tom, Nyx is...different. She's not swayed by superficial charms or empty gestures. If anything, she values honesty and authenticity above all else."
Tom's brow furrowed as he absorbed Charlus's words, a sense of contemplation settling over him.
"Perhaps you're right," he conceded, his tone thoughtful. "Perhaps it's time to approach this situation with a different perspective."
Harry pondered the enigma of Tom Riddle, he couldn't help but wonder where the path had diverged for the young Slytherin who had once captured the admiration and respect of his peers. How had this lovable Tom Riddle become the menace of Voldemort, feared and reviled by all who crossed his path?
And as Harry reflected on Tom Riddle's journey, he couldn't help but wonder what could have been if things had turned out differently—if Tom had found redemption instead of damnation, if he had chosen love and compassion over hatred and fear.
He turned to Abaraxas, who stood nearby, and his worst fears were confirmed when the other boy spoke up, his voice tinged with unease.
"My lord, Nyx...she caught the snitch but...she's injured. She's in the infirmary."
A hush fell over the room as Tom's expression darkened, his features contorted with worry and frustration.
"Injured?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "How bad is it?"
Abaraxas shifted nervously under Tom's intense gaze, his voice barely above a whisper as he replied,
"I'm not sure, my lord. But the matron said it was serious. She...she jumped from her broom to catch the snitch."
Tom's jaw clenched as he absorbed the news, a surge of anxiety coursing through him.
"Idiot girl," he muttered, his tone laced with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "She has no regard for her own safety."
Charlus watched with a heavy heart as Tom's anxiety threatened to consume him once more, Fuck you Abraxas.
As Tom dismissed his loyal Knights of Walpurgis with a wave of his hand, they obediently filed out of the room, leaving him and Charlus alone in the tense silence that lingered in the Slytherin common room. Charlus watched as Tom stood up abruptly, his expression grim with worry.
"Infirmary?"
Charlus questioned, his voice filled with concern as he followed Tom's determined strides. Tom nodded curtly, his cape billowing behind him in a dramatic fashion that Charlus suspected might be charmed, but he wisely refrained from commenting on it.
With each hurried step, Tom's anxiety seemed to intensify, his jaw set in a determined line as he made his way through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts. Charlus couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, knowing that Tom's emotions were running high and fearing the repercussions of any missteps.
As they reached the infirmary, Charlus braced himself for the sight of Nyx, knowing that her injuries would only add to Tom's already heavy burden. But as they entered the room, he was struck by the solemn atmosphere that pervaded the space, the matron and a few other students gathered around a bed at the far end.
Tom's heart clenched as he caught sight of Nyx lying still on the bed, her face pale and drawn with pain. Without a word, he strode forward, his eyes never leaving her as he approached her bedside.
As Charlus discreetly left to give Tom and Nyx some privacy, Harry remained invisible, observing the interaction between them with a mixture of admiration and concern. Nyx's recklessness reminded him of his own daring tendencies, and he couldn't help but marvel at her determination to secure victory for Slytherin house, even at the cost of her own well-being.
Tom's expression softened at Nyx's words, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite his lingering worry.
"Do you want me to get a heart attack?" he teased gently, his concern evident in his tone.
Nyx grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling with defiance despite the pain she must have been feeling.
"Well, dear Tom," she replied, her voice laced with playful sarcasm, "I had to make sure our team won the Quidditch Cup and the House Cup this year, didn't I? We can't let our seven-year streak go to waste."
As Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture of frustration and concern, he addressed Nyx with a mixture of sternness and underlying affection.
"Please refrain from doing that again, Nyx," he implored, his voice tinged with genuine worry. "And learn the word 'self-preservation' in your vocabulary too while you're at it. We don't want you dying now, do we?, Or how would I then prove the rumor true to the whole school hm?"
The unexpected shift in Tom's tone caught both Nyx and Harry off guard, their eyes widening in surprise as they processed his words. Did Tom just confess? The realization hung in the air, palpable and undeniable, as Nyx blushed and blinked in astonishment.
Before either of them could respond, Tom stood up abruptly, his movements determined yet tender as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Nyx's forehead.
"Goodnight, darling," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection.
As Tom turned to leave, Nyx's flustered protest echoed in the air, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and confusion.
"Wait, what?" she exclaimed, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Tom, come back, you charming git!"
But Tom was already gone, leaving Nyx to grapple with the whirlwind of emotions that swept through her in his wake. And as Harry watched from the shadows, his breath caught in his throat at the unexpected turn of events.
As Harry pondered the complexities of Tom Riddle's character and the unexpected confession he had witnessed, he couldn't help but wonder about the path that had led Tom down the dark road to becoming the feared and infamous Voldemort. Why?, was all he could ask.
The scene changed, they were back in the Slytherin common room, Tom sitting comfortably on the couch, Nyx sitting beside him, leaning on his shoulder, cuddling. This must be after they started dating, thought Harry.
Tom's question echoed in the air, his voice tinged with curiosity and introspection.
"Love, do you think there is bad and good?"
Nyx paused, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered his question. After a moment of contemplation, she replied, her voice soft yet resolute.
"No, I don't think there is, Tom. Power is. It depends on the one who holds power, and the way they abuse it determines whether they're good or bad."
Harry's heart sank as he recognized the words as one of the quotes Voldemort often recited to his Death Eaters, a twisted justification for his own quest for power and domination. And now he knew that Voldemort had gotten it from Nyx, from the woman Tom loved.
The scene changed again. Tom was on wandpoint, a wand held to his throat, by Nyx. They were standing at the chamber of secrets.
As Harry observed the tense confrontation between Tom and Nyx, his heart clenched with a sense of foreboding. The air crackled with tension as Nyx held her wand steady, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and desperation.
"You can only have one, Tom," Nyx declared, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Me or Horcruxes? Horcruxes are sick, Tom! You're mutilating your soul, and everyone gets only one soul, dear. Please, please think."
Tom's eyes, red and unfathomable, bore into Nyx with an intensity that sent shivers down Harry's spine.
"Darling," he responded, his voice low and filled with a dangerous sort of possession. "Who said I can't have both? You and Horcruxes will both be mine. Mine only, love."
Nyx shook her head vehemently, tears welling up in her eyes as she pleaded with him.
"No, Tom," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "It can be me or Horcruxes. Choose. If it's Horcruxes, fine. I won't tell on you. I'll leave you. I'll see other people even."
Tom's eyes widened with possessiveness at the mention of Nyx dating someone else, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he looked away, unable to meet her gaze.
"I'm sorry, Nyx," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I choose you, you only."
In that moment, as Nyx enveloped him in a tight embrace, Harry couldn't shake the feeling that this fragile peace was destined to shatter. The darkness that loomed over Tom's soul threatened to consume them both, and Harry feared for their future.
The scenery changed again, they were at the top of the astronomy tower. Nyx's legs were dangerously dangling over the edge, Her waist was wrapped by Tom's hands, who was sitting beside her, holding her both protectively and possessively.
"Happy birthday, love,"
Tom murmured seductively, his voice filled with affection as he gazed into Nyx's eyes. A smile tugged at Nyx's lips as she leaned in to kiss him, a silent expression of gratitude for his unwavering love and support.
As Tom retrieved the Slytherin locket from his pocket, Harry's eyes widened in surprise, recognizing the significance of the heirloom. With gentle hands, Tom fastened the locket around Nyx's neck, his touch filled with reverence as he looked upon her with adoration.
"Tom, this is a piece of your ancestry," Nyx protested softly, her voice filled with reverence. "I can't take it. It's yours."
But Tom's response was unwavering, his love for Nyx evident in every word.
"You're mine too, love," he declared, his voice tinged with determination. "The locket is mine too. Can't I keep my possessions together?"
As Harry grappled with the conflicting emotions stirring within him, a wave of sorrow washed over him at the heartbreaking realization of what lay ahead for Tom Riddle. The tender moments he had witnessed between Tom and Nyx stood in stark contrast to the darkness that loomed on the horizon, a reminder of the tragedy that awaited them all.
Tom's descent into darkness was a tragedy in itself, a tale of ambition and power unchecked, of love twisted and corrupted by the shadows that lurked within his soul. And as Harry watched the man he had once glimpsed as a figure of hope and redemption, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of loss for the future that had been stolen from him.
The tender moment changed, and now Tom and Nyx looked a bit older. Around nineteen year old maybe? They were in a house, a house that obviously was adorned in Slytherin colors, They both were sittng on the couch, and had wine goblets in their hands.
Something felt off, a sense of dread coiling in the pit of Harry's stomach as he witnessed the subtle shifts in Tom's demeanor.
When Nyx reached for her wand to refill her goblet, Tom's sudden interjection caught Harry off guard. His hand twitched with a nervous energy, his facade of calmness slipping to reveal the turmoil raging beneath the surface.
As Nyx took a sip of her wine, Harry saw the mask of composure shatter on Tom's face. His eyes blazed with a haunting intensity, and Harry knew that something terrible was about to unfold.
"Remember the day I chose you over Horcruxes, my dear?" Tom's voice was barely above a whisper, his grip tightening on Nyx's arm as he drew her closer to him. "I've always wanted power, love. And to get that, one must not have weaknesses. On that day, you proved to me that my weakness is you." I could've simply ended our relationship, but you're mine-
His fingers fiddled with the Slytherin locket Nyx was wearing, as he continued,
"and this locket is your tag to prove my ownership, if I broke up, you would've dated other people. I can't allow that.."
Harry's heart sank as Tom's words hung in the air, a chilling revelation of the depths of his obsession and the lengths he would go to in pursuit of power. Nyx's expression shifted from confusion to realization, her eyes widening in horror as she understood the truth of Tom's intentions.
"So... you decided to kill me?" Nyx's voice trembled with a mixture of fear and defiance, her words laced with a bitter resignation. "To kill me when I am yours, didn't you?"
Tom's nod was a silent confirmation, his grip on Nyx tightening with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down Harry's spine. But Nyx's defiance remained unbroken, her resolve shining through even in the face of imminent danger.
"Mark my words, love," Nyx's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination. "I will be the one to kill you, this life or another."
Tom's response was chilling in its calmness, a prelude to the darkness that awaited them all.
"We'll see, darling," he murmured, before pulling Nyx by the locket for one last kiss.
Harry woke up, his breathing shallow. Now he knew the fate of Nyx... Good Godric... Why did Riddle do that?! everything was going peacefully!.
The same otherworldly voices, all three of them echoed in unison,
Now child, you might ask what that's gotta do with you having to defeat Voldermort right dear? It is because Nyx vowed revenge dear, to at least kill tom in a different life.. And she was reincarnated Harry... Reincarnated as you. You were Nyx Peverell in your past life.
May 2, 1998: Battle of Hogwarts. Downfall of Lord Voldermort.
As Harry and Voldemort stood face to face amidst the chaos of the Battle of Hogwarts, a tense silence hung in the air, thick with anticipation and dread. Harry's smirk spoke volumes, a silent declaration of defiance and determination that echoed the echoes of his past life as Nyx Peverell.
"I told you, didn't I, Tom?" Harry's voice was steady, his eyes locked with Voldemort's with unwavering resolve. "I will be the one to kill you, in this life or another."
Voldemort's eyes widened in disbelief, his expression contorted with rage and disbelief.
"No," he spat, his voice laced with fury. "You're lying!"
Voldermort raised his wand, and cast the killing curse with all his might.
"Avada Kedavra!"
But Harry was already ready with his sigature spell, putting all his magic he can cast into one spell, He exclaimed,
"Expelliarmus!"
The two spells collided in a burst of light and energy, the air crackling with the force of their clash. And in that moment, the balance of power shifted, as Voldemort's curse was deflected and Harry's spell struck true.
With a cry of anguish, Voldemort stumbled backwards, his wand falling from his grasp as he was consumed by the force of his own curse. The Dark Lord's defeat was swift and final, a testament to the unwavering courage and resilience of those who stood against him.
The battle of Hogwarts had reached its climax, and Harry stood victorious, his courage and determination shining brightly in the face of darkness. As the cheers of his friends and allies filled the air, Harry knew that he had fulfilled his destiny, bringing an end to the reign of terror that had plagued the wizarding world for far too long.
And as he surveyed the aftermath of the battle, Harry felt a sense of peace wash over him, knowing that he had honored the memory of Nyx and fulfilled her vow of vengeance against the man who had once been Tom Riddle. In that life and the next, he had triumphed over evil, proving that love and courage were the most powerful weapons of all.
Three old women watched over with sly smiles. The yarn tangled uncomprehendingly. The boy's yarn. Maybe they should give him a break.. Maybe...Not.