Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Amor meus, in Tempus	By : BirdieBlythe Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Voldemort Views: 8246 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money from this fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 1-Tempus enim non cessat (Time Stops for No Man)
- 2-Nisi Per Illud Ps (Unless He Slips Through It)
- 1
- 2
I would like to thank my first 13 readers, follows/favorites, and my first reviews from lilyflower101, lw117149, and Hatake Tsughi. I would also like to thank one of my besties for letting me rant and reading through my thought process for parts of this chapter. This chapter should make all who loathe, hate, wish pain, upon Dumbledore happy or just make them even more angry with him.

Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England:
Sunday, 16 June 1995, 4:30 am

He woke with a gasp, sweat drenching his oversized shirt and clinging to his thin frame. He groped blindly for his glasses as a shuddering sigh escaped his chapped lips. Harry lay there, on his thin mattress, trying to get his breathing back under control. Careful of the wounds on his back, he rolled himself into a sitting position and sighed again, this time in relief.

Harry drew his knees up, hugging them tightly. Another night of interrupted sleep, full of dreams of the Dark Lord rising from a steaming, smoking cauldron. His body shuddered in remembrance, the snake like face and body were etched into his mind.

He saw the crimson eyes, glowing with dark power, eyes that promised retribution. He could still see the lipless mouth moving, forming the fateful words that would take the life of his fellow TriWizard Champion. Harry’s own lips began a silent chant of ‘Kill the spare...’, as behind his closed eyes he saw the green flash of the Killing Curse hit Cedric over and over.

As he sat there he felt a tingle go through his scar, his head jerked up and he braced himself for the pain that was to come. As Harry counted the minutes, the tingle in the scar increased but instead of the crippling pain that he had come to expect, it felt as if something were trying to tickle his face. The sensation continued for close to thirty minutes before it began to fade, leaving a pleasant warmth behind.

This was the second time his scar had reacted in such a way. He knew that the scar connected him to Voldemort in some way, a sign that he was Voldemort’s equal. He would love to let his friends (or Dumbledore) know of this newest development, but he was sworn to silence in every way concerning the Wizarding World.

It had already been three weeks since he had left his friends at King’s Cross. Three weeks of being beaten up by Dudley and his merry band of idiot thugs, starved for not completing an endless list of chores, and being caned by Uncle Vernon and Dudley because he had still not received a raise from Grunnings.

He wasn’t sure how long he would last like this, his body had gotten used to large amounts of food being readily available during the school year and at least enough to keep him from going lightheaded every summer since starting Hogwarts. His Aunt made sure that he had water every day, but he could count the number of meals he’d had since his return on one hand.

Harry looked at himself closely. He could see that his body had eaten through his fat stores quickly with the daily chores. He knew that something would have to change soon if he was going to be making it back to Hogwarts.

The brightening sky outside his window had him carefully rising from his bed, but even with his great care a pained groan filled the room as the welts and scabs on his back were pulled tight. He steeled his nerves further for the pain that would come as he stood. Harry caught himself on the rickety chair when the pain threatened to bring him to his knees.

He straightened, willing his magic to speed the healing of his back; he could not afford to be anything less than fully aware right now. Quietly, he made his way down the stairs; he had breakfast to make, Full English as it was Sunday. A weary sigh passed his lips as he began to pull items from pantry and ice box, “Please, please let me make it through this summer.”

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Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England
Monday, June 17th 1995, 10:55am

Voldemort looked down into the bubbling cauldron. ‘One step closer to my goal’, a smirk pulled at his lipless mouth. He had called on Narcissa to enter the Lestrange vault and retrieve the chalice he’d given into Bellatrix’ care and had Nagini go with Wormtail to retrieve the ring from his Mother’s home.

With these two larger pieces of his soul returned to him his body would shift back into that of a human and he would even gain a measure of the youth he’d possessed in the 40’s. Had he been able to absorb the portion in the diary, he would have been able to return to a much younger body.

He cursed Lucius’ foolhardy move; the man would pay but he would spare him his life… this time. Another smile pulled at his mouth, ‘Perhaps the Malfoy family needs a bit of … fire in their blood.’ His smile spread even more, ‘Hmm. Now which Weasley shall I pair the young Malfoy with? Perhaps, the youngest two should also be twins… yes, yes, perfect!”

He forced his thoughts back to his bubbling cauldron, only a few moments more and he would be able to pour the potion over the ring while it sat inside of the chalice. It would have to cool for twenty minutes before he could consume it, but what was a mere fraction of an hour when his plans were going along so smoothly.

He watched as the potion reduced in volume quickly, it’s color going from a murky greenish brown to a pale and calming blue. A quick flick of his wand had the flame extinguished as soon as the potion began to shimmer and sparkle. A well controlled Wingardium Leviosa had the cauldron floating over the chalice and slowly tipping it’s contents into the awaiting vessel.

~~~~~~   ❋   ~~~~~~   ✾   ~~~~~~   ❋   ~~~~~~

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland:
Monday, June 17th 1995, 11:15am

Minerva calmly flicked through the school's summer correspondence, three children were being taken out of the school and transferred to Beauxbatons - one was a third year from Hufflepuff and the other a Ravenclaw second year. Another five were being transferred to Durmstrang, four were from Slytherin - Severus would be devastated- and the other was from Ravenclaw.

A tapping could be heard at one of the towers windows, a sigh slipped past her lips and she briefly met Dumbledore's gaze as he flicked his wand to let the waiting owl in. “Let us hope that it is not another withdrawal. We never had this many during the first war Albus, why now?”

“I do not know Minerva. Perhaps it is because the parents of today’s children were students themselves during the first war?” Minerva shot the man a hard glare, his voice might have sounded normal, however, she could hear the condescension in the tempo of his words. With a sharp, angry wave of her hand, she summoned the files of the withdrawing children.

“If that is how you are going to be about it Headmaster, I shall leave you to it.” She placed the letters into the appropriate folder and stacked them neatly before rising from her seat. “Please have a house elf bring me any other letters you receive from withdrawing students.”

Albus took the letter from the owl as Minerva summoned the folders to her. He shooed the bird off to Fawkes’ perch to rest itself. “Really Minerva, it’s hardly a mystery. All of the students going to Beauxbatons are from Dark yet neutral families. The one's going to Durmstrang are also from Dark families that are known to have had a member or two that were known Death Eaters.”

He waved his wand over the letter where it rested on his desk, checking the missive for any dark magics or cursed items. “I will make sure you receive the withdrawals, should we have anymore delivered.” His careless tone had the witch bristling, she knew she would be hissing at the arrogant man had she been in her cat form. She quickly turned on her heel, not even deigning to give the Headmaster any form of acknowledgement.

The Headmaster sat back in his chair, scoffing at the witch as she stalked from the room. With a careless wave of his hand he had the door closing and locking itself. He flipped the missive in his hands over, shock coursed through him as he saw the seal. His scans had come up clean but a letter from Tom Riddle could not be taken lightly.

He quickly had the letter spelled to float a half meter in front of him. A gentle slicing motion had the wax seal falling to the floor and another gentle flick of the wand had the missive unfolding.

Albus,

I hope this day finds you in high spirits! Perhaps that is how you started your day, perhaps it is not, for I know you’ve received a number of letters removing some influential students from your renowned school.

Mayhaps you should have made sure incidents such as the Philosopher’s Stone, Slytherin’s Monster and a Polyjuiced Azkaban escapee teaching at your school had not happened. But enough with the pleasantries, I shall get the to the point.

I’m sure you know of my link to your precious Boy-Who-Lived, however, I’m nearly certain you see him as only a pawn. His spirit is failing Dumbledore and pretty soon, he will be nothing but a shell. A thing that I am certain of is this, you know exactly what the link I have to the boy is. It will be ending, very soon, old man.

I hope you’re ready to lose the war you meddlesome old man. Magic’s power is increasing, and with each weak link I remove, she strengthens more.

I think I have taken up more than enough of your time. I do believe there are lights flashing and sirens caterwauling. Enjoy your day Headmaster, I know mine has been spectacular and will only continue to get better.

~Tom Marvolo Riddle

Dumbledore's head snapped up quickly, the shock of lights and the deafening sound of sirens going off assaulted his mind suddenly. He stared in shock as the devices he had that monitored the pieces of Tom Riddle's soul flashed and blaired. There was no way Tom would destroy his fragments.

‘No, no… He would never give up his immortality.’ Dumbledore stopped moving as a frisson of fear shot through his body. ‘The letter, he said something about Harry as well.’

Dumbledore stumbled up from his chair, he had to get the letter, read it again. Tom would not destroy his Horcrux’, there was no way he would destroy his links to immortality. He came around the front of his desk in a daze, there was no letter on the ground.

~~~~~~   ❋   ~~~~~~   ✾   ~~~~~~   ❋   ~~~~~~

Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England:
Monday, June 17 1995, 11:45am

He stumbled into the kitchen, jarring his side painful against the counter. He would have glared at his cousin, but he had no energy for it. After mowing the lawn and pulling weeds in the side garden, Harry barely had the energy to open the back door.

He pulled himself up straight and hobbled to the refrigerator, he pulled the items he would need for lunch out and placed them on a cutting board. He took the loaf of bread from the bread box and another from the pantry.

As quickly as his tired body would allow, he began slicing courgettes and tomatoes for sandwiches. A thorough rinse of the board had it ready for him to put together a large stack of sandwiches for his Uncle and Cousin. He made his way carefully to the dining table and placed the plate between Vernon and Dudley's seats before returning to make his Aunts lunch.

Harry had just reached for the Creme Fraiche that his Aunt prefered on her sandwich when disaster struck. Just as he had lifted the knife from the pot, pain slammed into his head with such strength that he blacked out before his body had even started to fall to the floor.

~~~~~~   ❋   ~~~~~~   ✾   ~~~~~~   ❋   ~~~~~~

Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England
Monday, June 17th 1995, 11:30am

He gently picked up the steaming cup; the shimmering pale blue potion had changed as it absorbed his soul fragments. As the liquid had cooled a reddish purple had started to inundate within it. He stared in fascination as the liquid moved of its own volition, catching a glimpse of the ring settled at the bottom.

He had made sure that the potion would not affect the ring, he knew there was something special about the Ring of his mother's family and he did not want to damage it before he had a chance to study it.

With a silent pop his house elf appeared clutching a small handkerchief covered in large drops of blood. “You’re sure that the blood came from the scar?” He asked the little elf.

“Yes Master. I’s took it for scared boys pillow.”

Voldemort smiled mischievously “Excellent work Hopkirk! I’m sure Albus Dumbledore is scurrying around his office as we speak.” He took the blood soaked fabric and slowly lowered it into the goblet, a blinding flash of light issued from the goblet. The boy would surely be in much pain but... needs must and Voldemort planned to win this war before it even started.

He calmly took a seat in a chair before the large hearth, this was going to be a painful process and braining himself as he absorbed his soul pieces was not something he wished to do. He arranged himself so that he would not fall out of the chair should he fall unconscious and called for an elf. “Tilda.”

“Yes Master, how’s can Tilda sever Master.”

“You will stay here and watch over me as I take this potion. It will be painful for me but you are not to touch me physically or with magic. When the process is done and I awaken I will require several pain and stabilizing potions, you will help me take them in the order they are laid out on my desk.” He gestured to the neatly placed vials lined up on his desk.

“Tilda will do as Master says.”

He leaned his weight back into the corner of the chair, it wasn’t the most comfortable of positions but he wanted to stay in the chair. With a final mental check of his person, he drank down the potion within the goblet and placed it on the side table before the effects took hold of him.

It started with a fluttering in his guts, almost like the nervous feeling he had the day he was sorted in front of all those strangers. The feeling intensified to the sinking feeling of fear he’d felt when the basilisk had killed Myrtle. For thirty minutes the his brain and body were bombarded by feelings of fear, nervousness, and glee.

A sharp, grating manic laugh was pulled from his body as pain slammed into his being. His limbs only twitched, his iron control not allowing his body to writhe in pain. Finally his body succumb to the encroaching darkness, his eyelids falling on eyes that were now a swirl of red and grey. A sigh left his lips as darkness gave him a reprieve from the pain of his soul merging back into his body.

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And here’s chapter two!! Yeah! Wooh! I’m hope that you’ve liked this one. This is still a new style of writing for me, so I hope it’s to everyone’s liking.
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Amor meus, in Tempus