Because We Are Snakes

Chapter 16

Because We Are Snakes - The Prodigal Son

It was late at night and he was certain now that she would not come to him.

Months had passed his he regained his body and somehow, probably as a result of the ritual he performed days after, most of his sanity. He had not known then that cutting his soul in half so many times had been having an effect in his mind that he had been unable to see. But after the resurrection ritual, after he calmed down from losing the Potter brat, he began to remember that he had not seen her for many, many years, and begun to construct a ritual to reestablish the connection to the stream to his new body.

He had set himself to re-master this new body then, to tame and condition it and subjugate its urges, to understand every part of this new him and adapt this new form to his vast amount of power. And still, while mastering his new body, he waited. But she did not come.
He began to get worried then, felt a trickle of fear at the back of his head even though he would never acknowledge it as such, and he knew he would have to find a way to come to her. He feared and dreaded the condition he would find her, it had been so many years even before his fall, and even then she was in terrible condition already.

Setting his mind to forming plans for his rise to power and his eventual take over, to luring the boy to where he wanted him, and to finally know the extent of the threat to process how to act to eliminate it. In between all that planning and leading of his troops to his purposes, he always took the time to dive into himself and find that elusive path.

Tonight, as he lay on his bed, he had finally found the path from his very core -his center- that led straight to her, and he dove right into it leaving his body behind in a heavily warded room at Riddle Manor.

His consciousness traveled down the luminous road and as he traversed the path he thought about her.

The Dark Lord had just turned sixteen then, not yet quite a Dark Lord but a powerful boy already with followers and great ambition. It was months before he had used that annoying sobbing girl to create his first Horcrux. She had come to him in dreams then, while he slept in his disgusting little room at the Orphanage, and looked at him with hope. He had known then, after she spoke to him that he would need more time than he had to fix things, that if he died before his task was finished, all would be lost. So he set his eyes on immortality, because he feared then that as a future Dark Lord his death was a very real possibility -one simply does not become a Dark Lord without gaining some enemies that wanted to kill you and did their best at trying it- and he needed to rise above such things in order to do what had been asked of him. Such a monumental task but it was his to accomplish.

Dumbledore would like to think he, as a child of Amortentia, had been born without the capacity to love. But the old fool was terribly mistaken, Voldemort loved, he loved with a fervent passion reserved for beings beyond time and human understanding, he loved... her.

Everything he did was for her, because when he had no one she was there. She had been there since before his birth, had blessed him with her touch and given him more of herself than he did all those others whom she had chosen as her own. When he had been vulnerable she had given him the means to fight back and become more than those around him, she had set him apart and had even come to him that night. She had spoken to him with the love he was sure children heard in the voice of their mothers as they were tucked in bed after a story and a kiss on their forehead. He had understood then, and he had loved her, and later in life... because of his haste and blindness... he had failed her. But no more. He was powerful, he was intelligent, he was cunning. He would not fail her again.

He found her then, the light that used to shine around her in brilliant rainbows had dimmed a great deal since that night she called him here.

When young Tom had been called to her side she had still been magnificent. Her beautiful ankle length hair was the strangest thing he had ever seen, dark as pitch on one side and white as pale moonlight on the other, and in the center a peppered mixed of both that colored it the grey of young doves. Her lips were full and rosy and her eyes the clearest pools of glowing silver. Alabaster skin and grace beyond measure.

She was ever constant and ever changing at the same time; going from ancient and new, old and young, a child and a mother, a maiden and a crone, she was everything. And through all her constant changing the sad smile on her face and those brilliant eyes remained as she welcomed him and beckoned him to her stretched arms.

He went willingly and she embraced him.

He had never been held like this before, such acceptance and pride on his being.

He loved her then like he had never allowed himself to love anything in his wretched life filled with hardships.

Young Tom had looked upon her there and his eyes filled with fear, for the first time he openly acknowledged and displayed the emotion.

She was sick.

A rot had set in her long ago she had told her, a corruption of her valance and her gifts, and they were killing her over the years. Her, his mother in everything but blood who had blessed and cared for him and set him above others in strength, she was dying and needed his help.

He set to become stronger then, no matter the cost, to become immortal to buy himself the security to accomplish what needed to be done. But he had turned mad, in his quest he has lost sight, and his madness drove him to act rashly when the possibility of his end through prophesy was presented to him... and he had lost everything. He had abandoned to her suffering for years and know he could not even imagine what he would find when he reached the place she laid under the dimmed light.

He found her in the shape of a crone, old and feeble and unable to move much on her own. Her breathing was labored and her eyes half closed and she shook as if with a terrible cold she could not escape. He produced a warm blanket and covered her body with it as he kneeled beside her.

The rot, it was horrible how it was consuming her. Her face was a mass of blackened patches and the smell or decomposing flesh permeated the air. She was so weak. He had left her for so long and now there were not many years left before she completely disappeared.

Magic was dying.

Her own children were killing her.

Those she had blessed with her touch had turned against her and restricted her so much, corrupted her so deeply, that she was now on her deathbed.

"I will kill them all if I have to, I swear upon the blessing you have granted me that if that is the only way I will do it, I will do it for you."

"My son, my boy, I know you will do me proud. I had lost you for so long but now you have come back to me and I have faith you will save me. I am so very proud of you."

The Dark Lord could see it cost her a terrible amount of strength to speak to him, her raspy voice so low and slow he could barely hear it. But he heard her, he heard her, and in her tired sentences she had given him more than anyone else ever had.

He stood by her side, tending to her comfort, for the rest of the night and then he returned to his body with stronger resolve to set things straights. He would conquer this whole world if he had to, eliminate the corruption the muggle influence brought to the Magical World by killing them all if that was what it took, but he would save her. He would save Mother Magic from her unruly children, he was after all, her champion.

Lord Voldemort left his chambers in the early morning and made even more plans for his success. First, he would lead the boy to a trap, he would listen to the whole prophesy and then he would take Dumbledore's weapon down. From there, it was dealing with Dumbledore and all the pieces would fall into place soon after. Then, he would deal with the core of the problem and bring lost balance to his world.

He had lost sight of his vision before in his quest for power and immortality, but he had those things now, he would not let her down ever again... and if he conquered the world and ruled supreme while at it... well... that was just a bonus.

Voldemort was still a Dark Lord after all.