His Violent Delight - Tom Riddle Fanfiction

Chapter IV : 1943

It was a scorching hot day in September, yet I felt cold. I had landed flat on a field of grass, shivering and in pain. Despite the discomfort, I managed to lift myself onto my knees, but nausea hit me hard, and I began vomiting and coughing violently. My back throbbed with pain, and my bones felt like lead. Barely able to support my own weight, I lay on my stomach next to a puddle of my own vomit.

My mind raced with questions. Where was I? Had I died? Was my father alright? What about my friends? Was Cho really dead? Was the war over?

"I knew it. I predicted it. Someone would fall from the sky at exactly 12:38," a soft voice said.

"Are you alright?" I managed to ask, opening my eyes to see a girl with blue eyes and long platinum blonde hair kneeling beside me. We were on the Hogwarts grounds, a few meters away from the Whomping Willow.

"Oh! Luna!? Is that you?" I barely managed to get the words out.

"Luna? What an odd name, I love it! I'm Elizabeth, Elizabeth Lovegood, but you can call me Lizzy. We need to get you to the hospital wing, love."

I heard the girl's rapid footsteps fade as everything around me turned silent, and my eyes shut.

...

I woke to the pulsing beat of a painful symphony in my head. It felt as though a drummer was pounding on my temples, and the clashing of cymbals left a disturbing vibration throughout my body. When I opened my eyes, the blurriness and sensitivity of my vision made me feel queasy.

"Oh, Albus! The girl, she seems to be waking," I heard the matron say, rushing towards me. Before I knew it, she was cupping my face and asking me to follow the light from her wand with my eyes.

"I knew she would be just fine, Miss Toux. She's quite the fighter."

Albus? As in Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts who had been killed by Snape on the Astronomy Tower? No, it couldn't be Dumbledore—he was dead. My vision was still blurry, but I recognized the man in front of me. It was Albus Dumbledore, but not the one I knew. He had the same twinkling blue eyes, the same half-moon spectacles, and the same warm familiarity in his voice. Yet, he seemed younger—his beard was short, and his hair was a soft chestnut brown. He wore a brown three-piece suit, which was very different from the colorful robes I remembered.

"Is this the afterlife, Headmaster?" I asked. It had to be—how else would I be seeing Albus Dumbledore?

"Of course not, dearie," the matron said as she walked out to put away some equipment. "Though we thought we might lose you for a moment, you pulled through. Professor Dumbledore was a great help."

"Headmaster?" Dumbledore chuckled, and I looked at him, confused. "Dippet is the Headmaster of Hogwarts; I teach Transfiguration. Quite a fascinating subject, if you ask me," he replied.

"But how? Dippet was Headmaster in the forties. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History." Then it hit me. "What year is it?" My heart raced in my chest.

"1943," Dumbledore said gently.

No.

No, no, no.

This couldn't be real.

My breath caught in my throat as the walls seemed to close in. I felt like I was suffocating. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get enough air. My fingers dug into the bed sheets as my mind raced, the horrifying puzzle pieces falling into place too quickly for me to process.

"1943?" I whispered. "That can't be. I... I was just at Hogwarts—MY Hogwarts." My words came out as a jumbled mess, trying to make sense of the impossible. But nothing made sense. Nothing could.