It began with a light. A green light that surrounds him and engulfs him into darkness. It was new to him - this feeling, yet somewhat familiar in an eerie sorta way. What is this place? The sound of people began to fill his ears. His eyes opened to the scene of a train station, a well-known one, to him, anyway - Kings Cross Station.
He knew not how he arrived at such a destination when in fact he had just been dueling Harry Potter at his former home - Hogwarts of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He had him in his grasp, but yet, how did he end up here? I must have won
, he thought to himself. I wouldn't have lost. . . couldn't have been defeated by that mudblood a second time.
He sat on a familiar bench as he gathered his thoughts. His wand was missing, his robes were stained with the dust of what he assumed were there remnants of the duel. He glanced around as another train began to appear, the screeching breaks ringing in his ears. As the passengers began to line up to board, he noticed something quite strange - all their clothes. They wore nothing but white or grey. He took note of his own attire - still in his black robes. Why would he be wearing this color if no one else was? In fact, the whole scene around him was nothing but greys and whites. Like an old black and white muggle film he was forced to watch in that childhood orphanage he knew as home.
A shove from a passerby caught him off-guard and he stood to see who had made contact - the first human contact since he awoke in such a strange place. It was a boy - a small one, no more than eleven. He strained his neck to get a better view as the boy boarded the train. He looked somewhat familiar as the boy turned to face him. Perhaps a student from the school,
he thought. Alas, no - it wasn't a stranger but himself. He barely recognized his former person at such a young age. He still held that sense of mystery and wonder about him. Wondering what this place exactly was and where his young self was going, he boarded the train as the doors closed behind him.
The others in the train car were oblivious to his existence, as they were to his young comrade. It was as if neither existed in this time plain. He watched as the young boy sat and waited for his stop. It wasn't long before the train breaks began their familiar screeching and the train jerked to a hault. The doors opened to reveal the majestic halls of Hogwarts, all pristine and youthful in appearance, as if the school had just been opened not to long ago. Am I'm dreaming
? He thought as he silently followed his former self up the familiar front steps and into the Great Hall. It must be a dream . . . or a memory.
He noted that this place, also, was nothing but greys and whites. There was no color anywhere. Even the familiar green of the Slytherin banner was replaced with a dark shade of gray. He fell behind all the other young students including himself as the hall doors opened and they all began their great journey of the next seven years. He silently walked down the center aisle, knowing how this memory ended, he took note of his surroundings as the other students were sorted. There is Dumbledore up there
, he noted. The worry was already beginning to show as the students dwindled down to the final letters of the alphabet.
"Riddle, Tom," the professor shouted out from the parchment.
The sound of his real name shocked him and he jumped slightly. He hadn't heard it in so long, he barely remembered how it sounded out loud. He watched the professors as his former self walked to the stool and sat down. It took quite a while before the old had shouted out the name of his house - "Slytherin!" - for the entire hall to hear. He noticed the shock and what looked to be disappointment in the eyes of the man who took him away from that awful place and introduced him to the world of magic. The look surprised him. He was so excited about being placed, he failed to notice it the first time. Already worried? he thought to himself. You should be.
He wanted to continue to his house table, maybe visit the old common room but that wasn't to be. The familiar sound of screeching breaks began ringing in his ears as the Great Hall doors swung open to reveal yet another train stopping just outside the doors. He glanced around at his former home and back to the professors table once more. He could have swore Dumbledore could see him but he sneered at the thought as he stepped back onto the train and the doors closed behind him. A bright light flashed outside and the train was moving once more. To where, he wasn't sure. He found a place near one of the doors and sat down, again oblivious to everyone on board.
The ride was a bit longer and he began to wonder what exactly was going on. Could it be a time-turner of some sorts? A memory charm, maybe? He thought to himself as the train began to slow and the passengers began to prepare to disembark. He, too, stood as the train stopped and the doors opened once more. The brightness was almost overwhelming as everyone stepped out into the sunshine. Always on the run, he had to shield his eyes, he hadn't been outside during the day in quite a while.
He squinted to try and see where he was, what destination he had arrived at this time. It took him a while to figure it out - Hogsmeade. It must have been near summer, for it felt hotter than normal and most people were dressed in more summer attire - again, nothing but greys and whites. It was then he spotted him - his former self. This time much older. He was almost grown, must have been close to his seventh year. He walked obliviously through the crowds of people over to where his former self was sitting at an outdoor table.
"Hey, Tom," someone shouted from behind them both. "What are you reading?"
"Nothing important," Tom replied, slamming the old, tattered book shut.
He watched as his former self quickly stuffed the book back down in his satchel. I remember that book, taken from the restricted section, it was quite useful. He glanced over the scene before him. I should have kept it.
"Must be important if you are reading it during a Hogsmeade trip," his former classmate taunted back. He looked familiar and by the snake emblem on his robes, he knew they were in the same house but could not remember his name.
"Nothing, Thompson," Tom stated sharply. "Just a subject I found interesting."
Thompson! Now, I remember
! he thought as he continued to look on the scene.
"Did you hear?" Thompson asked, rather excitedly. "Moaning Myrtle is dead! She got what was coming to her."
"Yes, but don't you get it?" Tom asked. "They could have closed the school because of that!" His former self slouched closer to his housemate. "If I . . . I mean,"
"Come on, Tom," Thompson interrupted. "Don't tell me, you had something to do it."
He joked but Tom knew was kinda serious. "Of course not," Tom replied. "I turned in that monster Hagrid had been keeping, didn't I?" He glanced around to see if any lions might have been spying.
Although he knew where this scene was going, he wanted to continue listening or remembering or whatever it was he was doing. But the familiar sounds of screeching breaks filled his ears and the sight of yet another train clouded his vision of the street. He walked back through the oblivious crowd and onto the train once more. A bright light flashed and the train was on its way.
He sighed as he found yet another seat alongside more oblivious passengers. Perhaps this is all a dream? He pondered the idea of having won the battle, yet being injured in some way. He wondered what might be going on around him after the death of that so-called hero Potter and all his Order followers. Wonder how they feel to be on the losing side? he thought as the train began to slow. He again stood with the other passengers as the train stopped, this time the doors opened on the opposite side.
Darkness surrounded him as he stepped out into the night, the cool air sent a shiver down his spine as he glanced around to find some kind of landmark or familiar person. He tried to make out where he was but couldn't quite yet. He continued to walk when he came upon a house, a small, yet adequate house that looked unoccupied. It was then he saw them, the group of people known as Death Eaters, his followers. In the front, he found himself again, older yet still the same person he knew he was - evil. He glanced around again, to see the sign - Godric's Hollow.
He remembered, what was about to happen and what was to become of him. He wondered if there was a way of interfering, perhaps stopping his former self from attempting it but he couldn't. The memory, flashback or whatever this was just continued, like he was a ghost. He stayed behind this time, as the others continued to advance towards the home and enter inside. The green light flashed and he knew that James had fallen first. He peeked inside to see the familiar scene of his lifeless body desperately blocking access to the stairwell leading to the second floor. He watched to see himself half push, half step on the body and continue upstairs. He heard her screams and then his own as the familiar green light flashed again in one of the adjoining bedrooms. He peered around the corner to see his followers shout out the incantation for the Dark Mark, grab his wand and scatter into the night.
"What happened?" one of them shouted to the other. "Where did he go?"
"I think he killed him," one of the others replied, pointing at the infant. He was crying but still in his crib. "We need to get out of here and regroup with the others." They both glanced around quickly disappeared.
That's where I have felt this feeling before, he thought. The last time this happened. He stared long and hard at the crying infant, knowing it would be years before he could recover his body and be back strong enough to rid the world of all im-pure mud bloods and muggles. If only I could do something now to kill him. He began to ponder the idea when a familiar sound screeched in his ears. He sighed as yet another train came to a halt just outside the remnants of the Potter home.
He boarded once more, found a nearby seat, waited for the flash of light and was off again. He thought about all he had seen so far and wondered where this next "train" would take him. How long could this possibly last? For all eternity?
The train began to slow as the oblivious passengers once again began to line up by the doors. He, too, stood wondering where his next destination would be. The doors opened to reveal this darkness once more. This time, he was walking into a battlefield. Full of Death Eaters, towns folk, creatures of kinds and students - fighting outside of what remained of his one beloved home of Hogwarts. Again, the scene was dotted with nothing but greys and whites. No color anywhere. He walked through the fighting duels of students and followers as he reached what was left of the front doors and entered. He walked the familiar route to the Great Hall amongst all the chaos and into the scene he last remembered - the duel between himself and that brat.
He watched as a mere memory this time as the crowd stood silently by.
"No one help me!" he heard Harry shout. "I have to do this alone!"
The green light flashed once more and he watched as his body was hit by the spell and collapsed in a heap on the ground. Cheers filled his ears as everyone celebrated his downfall, his demise - his death. So that's it? I'm dead? He glanced around at all the jubilant people dancing around and crying. Just like that? Killed by that brat - again!? He walked through the sea of people oblivious to his presence, yet again, and to his lifeless body. It can't end this way. He circled himself, unable to comprehend the complete picture. "You can't be dead!" he shouted to himself. "You are the Dark Lord! You can't be defeated by that mudblood!" He glanced around at the celebration unfolding. "It doesn't end this way!" he shouted to everyone who couldn't see or hear him. "I'll shall return! Wait and see!"
The familiar sound of screeching breaks filled his ears and he waiting for the next train to arrive. He wanted to get away. Away from these happy people and away from - his body. He didn't know what they would do with it. He didn't want to know. The sight of another train stopped outside the remains of the Great Hall doors filled his vision and he rushed to climb on board. This time he was alone.
Impossible. It must be a dream. I couldn't have been defeated. Not by that mudblood.
The trip was much shorter as the train came to a screeching hault and he slowly climbed out to find himself back at Kings Cross station. He walks through the oblivious crowd once more and finds himself sitting on a familar bench. The darkness was surrounding him. He could feel it. His ultimate demise was upon him now. Maybe pure evil doesn't cross beyond the veil but decend into a deeper pit of darkness and evil, he thought.
He felt the end of his journey was upon him. He would be forever stuck in eternal darkness, never to have loved or be loved by anyone. He gather up what was left of his shattered soul and prepared for it. This is not the end, he vowed. He spotted a picture on the station walls and smirked. Someone, somewhere, will paint me into a portrait. . . and then I shall make my triumphant return. Yes, that is exactly what I will do. He glanced at the darkness now surrounding him as the train station faded from view. Yes, not all of me shall die.