Disclaimer: I take credit for this plot and my own characters, but everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Note: The chapters are going to be short and sweet until I get over my writers block. Things are about to get really intense, and I can't wait to share them with you, but first I have to build that bridge between what I've already written and what I plan to write. Please bare with me; I promise not to disappoint you! Reviews will help A LOT. Go ahead and guess what will happen in the future; maybe you'll spark an idea. I need help!!!
Chapter Seventeen
Corruption
"Take him away," The woman begged. He could not see her face, could not see anything but the blinding white of the room around him. He could sense the horror in the people he knew were around him, however, and his infant mouth opened to emit a wail. He felt strong arms holding him, but they were not the ones he wanted to be in. He writhed in the iron hold of the unwanted person, squirming and crying, desperately trying to find her face. 'Give me to her!' he thought. He tried to voice his plea, but the only sounds that came from him were that of his frantic sobs.
"Take him away!" He heard her shout. Her voice was music to his ears, but the words she uttered broke his heart. Something was going dreadfully wrong. He began to cry harder.
"But ma'am..." The man holding him protested, not sure what to say to the hysteric woman.
"Relieve me of him! Do not let me look upon his face!" She screamed, her voice growing shrill with desperation. "He is spawn of the Devil himself! Do not let me look at him! Take him away!"
'No, no,' he thought ruefully. 'Love me, Mother, please, love me, please...'
But the doctor was carrying him away from his raving mother before she exhausted herself from screaming. "I know exactly what to do with you," he heard the man holding him whisper to his newborn ears as he whimpered, his infant heart already broken by the evil of rejection....
Years flashed before his eyes in the breadth of a second. Women, children, even grown men avoided him whenever possible, for not only was he hideous to look upon, strange things happened when he was around. Entire walls would evaporate into thin air, pitchers of water would float around the room, and the voices...they haunted him in both his waking and sleeping hours. Several times he attempted to dig them out of his ears with a knife, but someone always prevented him. His only comfort was the old and bitter blind woman whom the doctor had sent him to upon his birth. He had loved her with all his heart for taking him in, but on the day that marked his eleventh year, he had awoken with an insatiable lust to kill. He had crept into her room before the sun was up and had gazed upon her sleeping form. He hated her for trying to replace the mother who had forsaken him, hated her for loving him only because she could not see his disfigured face and unearthly eyes as the others could, hated her for not being able to answer his questions about the incurable run of bad luck the followed him wherever he went. With tears in his eyes and a raging fire of pain in his heart, he placed his pillow over her face and pushed all his weight into it.
He remembered crouching in a dark corner shortly after suffocating the woman, knees pulled up to his chest and rocking back and forth as silent tears made their way down his mottled cheeks. He stared at her limp body, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest smothered forever by none other than him. The voices began to speak to him again, but this time, he did not recognize the speaker.
"Cousin," It said in a calm and high voice that made him shiver. "It is time you reclaim the birthright your mother denied you eleven years ago. It is time you know who and what you are."
"Who are you?" He whispered into the shadows, his voice shattered both by curiosity and fear.
"I am your last living relative. You are destined for power beyond your wildest imagination, but only if you chose to follow me. There is nothing left for you here, cousin. Come with me, and you will never be scorned again. They will have no choice to love you. Power, dear cousin. Will you say no to your destiny?"
A young man materialized in front of him. His smooth, handsome features were welcoming, and yet he could sense an intense power emanating from him. He smiled gently down at the younger boy and held out a pale hand. Hesitantly, he reached up and placed his smaller hand in the palm of Tom Riddle's. Suddenly, Tom's eyes turned red, and he was no longer handsome. Damien's instinct was to recoil, until he realized that he looked no better than Tom.
"It is time," His cousin said in a shrill, unholy voice. Damien felt himself stand and nod. IT was time to start the ball in motion....
"My Lord? My Lord!" There was a banging on the door. Damien's yellow eyes snapped open. Perturbed, he climbed out of bed and went to answer the intruder of his dreams, not even bothering to put his robe on to cover his naked body. He yanked at the handle and the door swung violently open.
"What is it?" He demanded of the courier.
The messenger stumbled over his words for a moment, not sure what to say to Damien answering his urgent knocks in such an unseemly matter. He knew it was not wise to keep the sorcerer waiting, especially when he had just woken up, however. He blinked and straightened himself, catching his tongue and taking a deep breath.
"It's Potter's wife, my Lord. She's with child."
A sick smile spread over Damien's lips, twisting his face even more than it already was. "Excellent," he breathed. "Ready our troops. We march tomorrow at dawn."
"Yes sir," The courier said promptly, then turned on his heel and hurried down the corridor. Happier than he had been in ages, Damien retreated back into his quarters. He needed to think and pack and ready for the battle. He was holding all the cards now. He would deliver Harry Potter to his cousin like a stuffed pig.
'Your efforts were valiant, Luna, I'll admit,' He thought as he pulled on a pair of trousers. 'But love will destroy the Few even with your talents.'
Fully dressed and smiling broadly, Damien left his rooms and broke into a brisk walk down the hallway. There was someone he needed to speak with.