The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter XXXII

CHAPTER XXXII:

Voldemort's POV:

Voldemort idly spun the ring he'd claimed from the wretched waste of space that had been his uncle back before his seventh year at Hogwarts around his finger. He had retrieved it from the shack an hour earlier and was now thinking.

Giving the ring to Harry Potter would be a risk; it would be a piece of his soul, after all, that Harry would be carrying– except he was starting to have his suspicions about the link he shared with the boy and should they prove true then the matter of ensuring Harry's loyalty to him became of even more importance then he could have possibly realised back when he'd originally started to toy with the idea in the boy's first year after the two plucky first years had traded the Philosopher's Stone with him in exchange for immunity.

Entrusting the boy with one of his precious Horcruxes was certainly a risk, yes, but it was one he felt was important to take. The boy both loathed Dumbledore and cared for 'Tom' enough that even in the unlikely case that he learned what it was that had been given him he suspected the very worst the boy would do was return it.

No, Harry would not be a problem; Dumbledore, on the other hand, would be if he recognized the ring. And as much as he disliked the thought of changing his horcrux in any way, until Dumbledore had been dealt with he didn't have a choice.

He left the cracked stone with the Peverell coat of arms as it was– he already knew that it was strangely impervious to any sort of magic; it was the heavy gold band of the ring, after all, not the actual stone that his soul was attached to. Instead, Voldemort charmed the gold band to look thinner and silver in colour with an added spell manipulating the precious metal into forming two snakes, also silver, to form a border that the stone now appeared to be inset.

The result was certainly pleasing to the eye, Voldemort was satisfied to note, as well as being entirely unrecognizable from the ring's original design.

Compared to transfiguring precious metals, creating a box for the ring to be placed in was laughably simple and the horcrux soon lay glittering prettily on black velvet. Voldemort touched the cracked stone a final time before closing the newly conjured mahogany box. An idle thought spurred a final flick of his wand that conjured a deep green ribbon into existence that wound itself around the box, the ends looping themselves into a decorative bow.

There; it was done and ready to be gifted to the boy for his upcoming fourteenth birthday. Only time would tell if the Horcrux would influence the boy the way they intended for it to, but Voldemort was certain he would enjoy watching it unfold.

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Harry's POV:

By the time night began to fall, the sun painting the sky in shades of red and orange as it started to set in the sky, Hermione had drifted off into an exhausted sleep, her head pillowed on his lap. After levitating over several cushions and a thick blanket, Harry had arranged them both as comfortably as possible on the floor before joining her in sleep. 

The sun had already risen once more by the time her stirring brought him slowly back to consciousness and Harry tried to hide his concern as Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position, rubbing her eyes tiredly. As if sensing his staring, she turned slightly to look down at him and her mouth twitched into a small smile. Harry felt relief fill him at the sight and her smile widened.

"Hi." She said and he couldn't help his surprised laugh.

"Hi to you too." He smiled, pushing himself up so he was sitting too and wincing as his back and neck sharply reminded him why sleeping on the floor was a bad idea. Ignoring the stiffness in his limbs, he didn't hesitate in pulling her into his arms and she hugged him back, just as tight as he was holding her. There was a peace to her now, however– while still tight, her grip wasn't the desperate clinging from the night before when she'd clung to him like she was waiting for him to disappear.