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An Unexpected Traitor: Guile\'s Guileless Facade	By : BlackDeath Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1809 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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�As far as one may tell, she seemed a witch of average power, though not of average contempt.�
-Nathaniel Elliot Potter, Earl of Gryffindor

Chapter One

�Then as the Victor contemplates his foe, his vanquished foe,

His vanquished foe so vast, a sudden voice

Is heard, it�s source not readily discerned,

But heard for very sure: �Why, Cadmus, why

Stare at the snake you�ve slain? You too will be

A snake and stared at��
-Ovid Naso Publius �Metamorphoses�

Though many think I'm mad, I usually laugh at such admissions and brush them off with the excuse that I had merely run away with a bout of imagination again. Honestly, are they qualified enough to diagnose me?
You see, I talk to people. People that aren't there, people that I know should be there. But before you begin to speculate about this, let me explain.
I'm in no way a seer, a medium or amateur psychic. I have never had more than the few notably random encounters with the paranormal like anyone else has, whether they are of muggle, or of magical background. There's an entirely different feel to these sessions that I have, and it's absolutely nothing of or relating to the other realms. I'm quite assured of that, though I don't completely close the possibility just in the case that I am proved wrong. It has been known to happen before.
Now you may go for the other, tried and true, much more obvious explanation: schizophrenia. I don't blame you, in fact, a couple of months ago I would have thought this the most likely candidate myself. It wasn't until I had looked up the disease th'd 'd started to wonder again if what I was going by was actually the right thing after all. There were just too many differences outweighing the similarities, despite my own wishful thinking. For instance, schizos tend to see the people that they're talking to, and cannot control the inclinationt int induces them to spontaneously converse with them. Also, it is considered 'abnormal' for their condition if they do not have more than one symptom. With my predicament, I never see the things that I am talking to, but I'm reasonably sure that they're men and women, and very content creatures at that. They don't always follow me around, or question me in the most inopportune moments, though such has happened by accident. Truthfully, they're very polite, and only come for a chat when I bid them to, or when they have an important message to relay. I don't know much about them, for it seems that personal information is a foreign idea to them, but I do know that they are the instruments of someone, or something else. The relaying messages thing? Any idiot must figure that those are coming from a specific source, especially when these people start out a conversation with 'I was told to tell you'.
Yes, it's always been something that's plagued me with curiosity, but not so much for whom these people are, but why they are. I'm a pretty firm believer that most things in life have a purpose to them, particularly when life dishes you out phantoms that you can lead about wherever, ones that don't seem to grow annoyed with you, and have even been known to silently help you with your potions tests in class.
But now for the third possible answer I had bouncing around in my brain awhile back. After Tom Riddle came quickly in and out of my life like day-old laundry, things changed and I with them. What living human being wouldn't have changed after that adorable little sociopathic megalomaniac played havoc with your mind and body?
The thing is though, that I wasn't changed in the normal or even expected manners of which I'd been constantly monitored for, and in many instances still am monitored for when attending Hogwarts. I had done some terrible things by most people's standards, yes, I had, and still do have many horrible thoughts that would scare even the most pious of religious authorities, but in all honesty, they aren't anything deviating from the usual things I would have had floating about in my skull.
What Tom had done to me, was open my mind up to a greater perspective. I absorb things now with a speed that I'm certain many would fear, though I hadn't exactly been average on the intelligence scale before. I can just as easily disregard the things that I pick up that I find aren't beneficial to me, or don't interest me at all. I have him to thank for that, because since the time he had taken control of me and decided to go knocking around in my head, it was as though he'd flipped on a master switch of some sort that I hadn't even known existed. Truly, there are moments I'll look in the mirror and feel like Hermione Granger, though a more apt version, without the hopeless bush of brown hair.
Forgive me, to get back to the point at hand. Should I attribute these phantoms to Tom's influence as well? There are times that I wonder, and can't help but feel as though that is something of the truth, albeit a flawed version. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it? Tom Marvolo Riddle is dead, his soul taken over by a wretched thing with red eyes and pasty grey skin that is driven by obsession.
I suppose that these people that somehow attached themselves to me were the first clear sign I had that something out of the ordinary was happening to me. I was even starting to detect strange, alien desires arising within me that I'm certain weren't my own, or hadn't been lurking about me previously. Thirsts for little, petty triumph and superiority over things.
I didn't like it because I did.

***

It was a Saturday over the holiday vacation when I discovered myself to be wallowing in some sort of depression. I couldn't find the reason for it, but it was there. I had no need to be miserable, nothing had been done to me that I'd taken necessary umbrage to, purposefully or not.
After I had determined to ignore this nagging emotion, I had risen from bed to the stench of eggs and bacon wafting upm thm the kitchen through the crack at the bottom of my door. For some unfathomable idea, the word 'common' came to my lips, and it left a distinct after taste when I had wordlessly shaped it with my mouth. It shocked me, and I had wondered where it had come from, considering it felt as though it hadn't been my own inclination to say it. My mother's food had never once disgusted me before, but now I couldn't bear the thought of going downstairs and sitting at the big family dining table, watching my fellow kin indulge in an early morning breakfast like swine to the trough.
Whilst I quibbled over this, my ears were jolted with the hammering footsteps of Fred and George running down the stairway. The fools had been graduated for two years now, yet they hadn't a job, or house of their own. It often irritated me, as I had high hopes that this household would have been much calmer after they had left Hogwarts. How wrong I had been.
I slid out of bed and shuffled over to my bureau, pulling out a black sweater and trousers. Running a hand through my now cropped locks, of which I had taken sheers to out of boredom earlier that year, I squinted in the grey morning light, sleep retaining its strangle-hold on my senses.
There was something writhing in the pile of folded cloths.
I don't scare easily anymore, not like I used to, though there are enough times when I am to know that it's a warning of some sort, made to adhere to nothing but the instinctual rules of self-preservation. I override it as I always did, believing this would just be another useless little child's fear, borne from paranoia and too much coddling from my parents at birth.
When my hand tentatively drew away the pulsing shirt, uncovering the object of my apprehension, I was accosted with a knot of dread sinking down within the pit of my stomach.
A stroke of hidden design. That was the one thought that echoed through my mind, but it carried so much with it as I stared into the little glittering, jewel-like red eyes of the black serpent, it's tongue snapping out and tasting the air before it took a strike at my trembling hand, fangs resembling two small daggers to my overly imaginative thoughts.
I would love to say that it missed me, that my reflexes were super-human enough to have pulled my arm out of the way in the nick of time, but that would be a very improbable, inconceivable lie. If perhaps I had just had the presence of mind enough to have retrieved my wand before I had caved into the urge to remove the fabric, I may have had a chance. As it was, I invited the resultant consequences.
A sharp, keening pain where I was hit exploded, and the pumping of the venom as it was released from the fangs drew my attention. Before I'd even had the thought to cry out, it sprang to the floor and slithered quick as lightning beneath my bed.
I scrambled toward the door, intending to run down the stairs and tell my mother and father to contact the nearest mediwitch or mediwizard possible, but something stopped me. Literally stopped me.
My breath hitched within my throat, and I heard nothing but the roar of blood drumming in my ears. I could feel all of my physical facilities shutting down, my knees quaking and dropping to the floor, head lulling and spittle running from the side of my mouth as I lost all control of my body.
Just as blackness began to tinge the corner of my vision, I knew that I could see an apparition, if that is indeed what it was.
There was a horrible, familiar countenance grinning skeletally at me, its teeth drawn back into what could almost be mistaken for tender amusement.
"You..." I slurred, before I felt myself die and my awareness dim as something wholly different took my place.

~*~*~

( Real Author's Note:) Another chapter shall be out shortly, stay tuned for updates. I think that the ensuing plot will surprise the reader to a large extent. There will be excerpts and quotes from �muggle� literature as well as some wizard literature of my own creation at the beginnings of these chapters. And as always...FEEDBACK!
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An Unexpected Traitor: Guile\'s Guileless Facade