#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
The feet that shake the history of the Wizarding World, those of the most dangerous wizard of all time, are multiplied thenceforth into two, a notion unknown to all but three gathered, one 'dead' and two startled. It's as if the whole world quakes at the singular word ('Yes') not for reasons known as of yet, but for the tone of voice it was spoken in. So similar to Voldemort's. Loud, but spoken softly. Further deviation from the darkness gathering. And though it is but the darkness that moves through the shadows of righteousness, there has never been a brighter flame to step out in human history, a carbon copy untainted by tragedy.
Tom Riddle strides out from behind Dean Thomas, his face turned downward in a mask to his true identity, shadows hiding his features and his hair too messy to belong to the acquainted Voldemort. Silence clings to his silent form of breath and step, his body firm in its acquaintance with loved attention and only disemboweled by a hand touching his forearm, a plea. His head tilted upward for only her and Ron to see, Tom sends Hermione a look to let him go, to trust him. And with every cell, Hermione does, reassured by the boy's rationality, plotting, and brilliance, knowing he is capable of a verbal defeat.
So he parts from her warm touch, a forgotten notion for the moment, as he gathers his thoughts with one step forward, never back. He steps agilely between tilted pieces of broken Castle rubble, like skipping between stones on a river in the most seductive and masculine exertion of beauty. It is at that point that Voldemort should realize who this shadow-cloaked figure is, but even he has a hard time remembering his own facade.
Stepping up beside the silent and struck Neville--the boy wondering who this other boy is to step up with him or against him, as only time can tell. The dark figure reaches out to stiffly pat the boy on the shoulder, a silent praise for his bravery and one the boy takes too much interest in. But it's hard not to take interest in the stunning boy of mysterious origin, a notion that will come to disgust him when the realization hits them all.
Unmoved from Neville's side, but taller in stature and power, the young Tom Marvolo Riddle raises his head from the depths of shadow--like the moon from the ocean of night--and reveals the extent of familiarity to the one and only Dark Lord. It is his nose, his eyes, his jaw, his chin, his cheeks, his lips, and his body. And it's as if the whole world turns over on itself, a look of utter horror flashing over Voldemort's facade, actually forcing him to take a step back in terror. And though it ought not to be himself--it's a trick!--when the boy's lips turn up into a malicious smirk, Voldemort knows the whole state of his being has reached an upheaval of time.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
But behind Tom Riddle, him being well aware of their actions, the students and adults of righteousness look floundered and confused by the reaction of the Dark Lord, the monster never once having stepped back to even Dumbledore. It prompts their realization that this unknown figure, one part-of-four in the Golden Trio, is more powerful than Lord Voldemort, more powerful than the threat they face. Voldemort was supposed to be the most powerful wizard alive. How can this be?
