Indelible

Here’s the next chapter. Sorry it took so long, hopefully it’s a little longer than the last. I have my Debs (or Prom) today, and I refuse to do anything other than sit around doing nothing (and updating) because I’m afraid my hair will fall down… Now I have to go get ready or I’ll be late! Hope you appreciate this!



Title: Ravana is an evil Hindu God with ten heads. To resurrect him would be very bad, sort of like bringing back Voldemort. And it sounds better than “Resurrecting Voldy” lol.

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Words: 4,801
Chapter 4
Resurrecting Ravana
Azkaban Prison wasn’t a place known for its cheerfulness or interior décor. But, insanity obviously makes the world a brighter place. Where the Prison should have been glum and terrifying, it was instead filled with the sound of off-key singing. The words echoed through the Prison and before any of the Unspeakables could come to their senses, every prisoner was joining in with a chorus of “happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, Harry’s getting ‘grown’ now, what can you do?”

It was in fact the boy’s 14th birthday. The second of which he had celebrated behind the stonewalls of the horridly unsanitary place. The year had passed quickly to some, and slowly to others. But no one could dispute that Harry’s presence did liven things up.

Sirius spent less time cowering as a Grim, the Dementors spent less time roaming their corridor – they probably grew tired of staring contests with Tom; after all Dementors are blind. Bellatrix cackled just as much as ever, but now her husband and his brother had joined her. The three spent much of their time reminiscing over their most memorable raids, especially their last one when they tortured Neville Longbottom’s parents to insanity. Tom was rather impressed by that he had to admit.

Speaking of Tom, he had spent so much time sharing a body with someone who wasn’t fighting back, unlike Ginny Weasley who fought tooth and nail to gain control again. Harry just allowed it to happen He allowed Tom full reign whenever the teenager wanted it, and in returned, Tom gave the body back when asked. But the point was, of course, that Tom had managed to weave a strand of his magic around Harry’s magical core enabling him to siphon magic when he dearly needed it, while replacing it with magic of his own in an endless circle. While both boys were powerful in their own right, they were amazing together.

He had a very special present for Harry this year.

He had been practising while Harry was sleeping, and now he only had to wait until Sirius was asleep – he wasn’t too bothered about the Lestranges’ watching.

By the time everyone had grown tired of singing to Harry, it was well after an hour since they started. Unfortunately for the Unspeakables the rest of the prisoners had cheered up considerably and were not so easy to intimidate. Harry, of course, knew nothing of that. He was only aware of the texture of the floor under his feet. He had grown so embarrassed that he had ducked his head to hide his blush, and had yet to look up.

“Harry birthday, pup.” Sirius grinned and reached an arm through the bars of his cell. Harry leant over as well, and squeezed the offered hand. He had grown a little, so Sirius no longer had to lean so far forward anymore.

“Itty baby Potter is not so itty bitty anymore, is he?” Bellatrix cooed, puckering up her lips and blowing him a kiss. “Is he a big boy now, is he? In’t he the cutest little bitty Potter, in’t he?” She nudged her husband who rolled his eyes at her behaviour, but nodded anyway.

As far as Harry could tell, Rudolphus Lestrange was not as far gone as his wife seemed to be. He was quiet. For the six months since he was moved to Bella’s cell, he had barely spoken more than ten sentences to Harry or anyone else unless it was a tale of torturing someone. Rabastian though, the younger brother, was much more vocal.

“Really Tinkerbell,” he also seemed to have taken on board Harry’s habit of nicknaming Bellatrix. “Leave the boy alone. It is his birthday. Remember how you used to get annoyed with Cissa teased you on your birthday?” Harry and Sirius both looked over. “Well, I suppose you want to know? Bella was turning 13, and she thought she was so grown up and matured, and she had all this make up on her face and curls in her hair. But of course no one had taught her the spells – she did it the Muggle way – and when she came down the stairs she resembled a klone.” He frowned.

“Clown,” Harry corrected and Rabastian nodded gratefully.

“A clown. You should have heard her mother shout. Bella was made scrub it all off in front of the family and sent in to the guests without make up or curls. Narcissa still hasn’t stopped teasing. Well,” he paused, “she might have. It’s been so long since we last saw her.”

“Do shut up, Ian!” Bellatrix hissed. “And you, Dolf, stop snickering!” both boys lowered their eyes to the floor and tried to hide their smirks. Harry let out a giggle – he was far away from Bella, unlike the male Lestranges, and in no danger of her smacking him.

“What’s with the nicknames, Tom?” Harry asked under his breath. Sure that Tom could hear him anyway.

“Almost everybody that's well-known gets tagged with a nickname. If you give yourself one, and people hear of it, there is less chance that the Daily Prophet will dub you ‘Madam Strange’ or Half-Blood Boy’, or something similarly ridiculous.” Tom drawled, his arms folded across his chest while he tapped his foot impatiently. He rather wished he could use magic in the real world, rather than just inside of their private Chamber; he would dearly love to cast a sleeping spell on the others so he could give Harry his present now.

“Is that why you choose Voldemort? So they wouldn’t call you ‘the Dark Lord Half-Blood Boy’?” He snorted in amusement as he felt Tom scowl at the back of his mind.

“Do not laugh. They may yet choose to call you that!” He sneered unpleasantly.

“Well then, Tom, I should choose another name. You want to help me anagram?” Tom rolled his eyes. “I have a ‘H’, two ‘A’s, um…”

“Pray tell me, Potter, but what in the name of Merlin’s sagging scrotum are you doing?” Tom asked, eyes wide in astonishment. Surely no one could be that stupid.

“Trying to figure out what letters I have in my name!” He said back in a loud whisper. “Aren’t I? Isn’t that what I’m meant to do?” He asked unsurely.

“And will you remember the letters off the top of your head? No. Think, Harry. The floor is dirty enough. Write the letters on it.”

“Oh yeah! Thanks!” He grinned and began to draw the letters into the lay of dust on the floor. It didn’t seem to matter how often he moved over and across the floor, the dust would collect in the cleaned area almost as soon as Harry moved away. “I have it.” Tom nodded, waiting to hear what it was. “‘Armet Soptry Jahre’, what do you think?”

Tom hit himself on the forehead, even though he actually wanted to hit Harry. “Are you, by any chance, German? A Grindelward supporter? Try again, Harry. Is ‘Soptry’ even a name?”

“Um,” he muttered before rubbing the letters out and turning around. He wrote his name again and started over. “How about ‘Ramsey Rehat Jorpt’?”

“‘Jorpt’, hmm? You sound like a German yoghurt. Maybe you shouldn’t anagram your name? If you could have any name, what one would it be?”

“It has to be something special right? Especially since I’m sharing a body with the young Lord Half-Blood Boy!” He giggled as Tom cursed loudly; the elder teen rather wished he hadn’t opened his mouth earlier. “How about Jeffery!”

“Should I dignify that with a response, or just hit you?”

“Frank? Roger? Reginald? Jaguar? Tom?”

“That’s my name, Harry.” He gave a low groan as Harry continued to rattle off unoriginal and boring names. What ever happened to special anyway? It continued in this pattern until long gone midnight, and by that time everyone else was asleep and Tom had a migraine. “Harry I don’t mean to be rude, but shut the fuck up! Please?” Harry immediately grew quiet, his hand clamped over his mouth. “Thank you. Now I have a present for you. Close your eyes.”

When Harry closed his eyes, Tom took a deep breath and hoped desperately that his surprise worked as well when Harry was awake, as it did when Harry was sleeping. When Harry opened his eyes three minutes later a fully corporeal Tom Riddle was standing right in front of him. Harry looked around wide eyes, trying to make sure that they were not in their Chamber. When he had firmly established that Tom was in his cell with him, Harry let out a small shriek and launched himself at his friend of just over a year.

Tom hugged him back just as tightly, revelling in that chance to really touch the other boy. Unlike in their Chamber, where Harry and Tom always felt cold to one another’s touch, here in the real world Tom could practically feel Harry’s warmth seeping through his clothing and marking his skin. Harry slowly drew back and Tom almost whimpered at the loss of heat. “What is it?” He asked as Harry’s eyes widened. He could talk like Harry now – out loud, so everyone could hear him.

“Is this going to kill me?” He whispered, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes.

“No.” Tom whispered back, pressing his lips to Harry’s ear as he drew the boy back against his chest. “No it won’t kill you.” He promised, moving his face so his lips could brush over Harry’s cheek. “Our magic is entwined. I can take magic from you, and you draw it back from me, endlessly, infinitively, so neither of us will tire or seriously deplete our magic. As a result, here I am. I have been waiting to do this to you for a while now.” He grinned roguishly.

Harry hesitantly met Tom’s eyes. He licked his lips and considered trying to pull away, but there really was nowhere to run. He held Tom’s eyes as the boy lent forward. Rather than hurt him like Harry thought he would, Tom crushed their lips together. He pulled back and licked his lips with a moan. “Delicious.” He praised quietly, running one hand through the brunette’s tangled mass of hair.

Harry still looked rather dazed, but his hand came up and pressed against his lips. “What?” He managed to choke out. He just had his first kiss. With a boy. He’d always imagined his first kiss would be with a girl, and since he’d been sent to Azkaban he decided he probably wouldn’t ever get a first kiss or anything else. But never once had he thought he’d kiss a boy. And not just any boy, but Tom.

To be honest, Harry had considered Tom good looking when he had first seen him, and even more so when he was in the Chamber. But recently he had thought of Tom as a friend. It would be like kissing Ron, or something. Tom was still good looking, in his opinion, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to kiss the other male. Harry didn’t particularly notice one sex over the other. Bellatrix would have been beautiful before Azkaban, Rabastian was still handsome even though he was in Azkaban, and Rudolphus had great bone structure but he was too pale. He had never thought of Sirius as attractive or ugly though; Sirius was just Sirius to Harry. Maybe that meant he didn’t consider Tom as family? He had thought about Tom’s attractiveness before, but not Sirius’, right?

As if reading his thoughts, Tom laughed and said, “It seems you need help deciding.” He moved forward quickly, striking like the snake he was, and pressed his mouth to Harry’s once more. But unlike the last time, he didn’t keep it chaste. His tongue flicked out incessantly, wetting the seam of Harry’s lips and demanding entrance. When Harry’s mouth opened, Tom gave a groan of satisfaction and allowed his tongue to slip inside, tracing the top of Harry’s tongue. When Tom moved in for the next kiss, Harry’s tongue hesitantly peeked out to meet the others.

“Ok,” Harry smiled when Tom allowed him to breathe. “I like kissing you.”

“And I am very pleased to hear it.” He kissed Harry again. “I have one more thing for you.”

“Oh?” Harry asked with a half smile on his face, his head tilted to one side.

“I thought, since I was your first kiss, I should be your first something else as well.” Harry’s eyes widened and he jumped backwards shaking his head. “No, silly boy, not that. Not so soon. I want to please you, to thank you.”

“Thank me for what?”

Tom laughed. “For cutting your finger on the diary, for taking my soul into your body, for not fighting against my presence, for letting me kiss you, for making me feel, anything, everything Harry, the things in between. I don’t know why I’m thanking you; I just know I have to. Let me please you?”

Harry swallowed heavily, but nodded his head. “What do you want me to do?”

“Lie down.” Tom waited until Harry was laying spread out on the floor. Tom moved to lie on top of the other boy, their bodies pressed together teasingly. The fourteen year old gulped, and then moaned as Tom’s lips met his again. Tom’s hand moved down to unfasten the fly of Harry’s dirty trousers. When they were opened, Tom pulled them down slightly, exposing Harry’s boxer shorts that were equally as dirty. Those were pulled down over Harry’s hips as well.

When the teenager’s penis was exposed, he blushed bright red. Tom stared at the organ for a moment before smirking and moving his hand to wrap around the flesh. His hand moved up and down slowly, squeezing gently around the glands at the top before moving down to grip the base again. Harry panted lightly. The blood began to rush in the direction opposite his head, causing his penis to twitch and swell, growing in Tom’s grip.

Harry looked rather mortified. This was his first sexual experience of any kind, and he wasn’t quite sure if his cock was meant to be doing that. He had been too young to masturbate when he was imprisoned, and he wasn’t going to start with Sirius watching him. He supposed it wouldn’t have been so embarrassing if he was touching himself and realized he was weird or wrong. But to have Tom pleasure him and realize he wasn’t working correctly was mortifying.

“This is meant to happen.” Tom assured him, and continued to stroke the swollen shaft lightly. “Are you enjoying yourself, Harry?” He asked with a smirk as he lowered himself onto Harry again, pressing against the younger boy, allowing Harry to feel his own swollen cock through his clothing. “I’m enjoying myself,” he whispered as he began to rut against the boy’s leg. Harry moaned as Tom’s other hand moved to cup his scrotum.

”Oh please, please,” he begged quietly, as he felt fire alight in his stomach and his legs began to tingle. “Feels good,” he whispered even though he didn’t know what felt good.

“Yes,” Tom agreed, his hand moving from Harry’s sac to his own groin. He rubbed himself through his trousers as he continued to jerk Harry’s prick, relishing in the pants and moans and innocent pleas for more. “Tell me you like this, Harry.”

“I do, do… I- I, oh Merlin, please Tom!” He cried as his back arched. He felt his balls tighten and his eyes met Tom’s. Both were flushed and panting, both of their eyes’ were wide and glassy, swirling with lust. Harry screamed as he felt his cock twitch again, and then something white and sticky was shooting out of the end of it, and into Tom’s hand. Tom’s other hand was shoved down his trousers, stroking his own prick.

Tom brought his hand to his mouth and began to lick Harry’s ejaculate off of his fingers. He gave his own cry soon after, coming in his trousers and over his fingers.

Harry, hesitantly, pulled the hand out of Tom’s pants and raised it to his mouth. His tongue flicked out and licked a small bit of the white fluid, before wrinkling his nose up. “It tastes funny. What is it?”

“Semen. Sperm. Cum.” Tom wiped the rest of it onto his t-shirt, and lent down to kiss Harry lightly on the lips. “Oh,” he said as if just realizing it, “you weren’t old enough to learn any of this. Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry, but Harry smiled up at him anyway.

He waved his hand, and the small stains on both of their trousers disappeared. “How did you do that?” Harry asked in amazement, waving his hand frantically – but of course nothing happened.

“Wandless and non verbal spells. I began learning them at sixteen. Cleaning up cum was one of the first I learnt, after learning to summon lubricant.” He sent Harry a impish grin. The younger boy blushed again, and then yawned. “Get some sleep.” With a smile – rather than a scream – Tom glowed faintly and disappeared before Harry’s eyes.

“TOM!” He cried worriedly.

“I am here, fear not, Harry. Go, sleep, now.” He ordered while wrapping his arms around the teenager’s waist. Harry smiled at him from their bed, and turned to press his face to Tom’s chest.

“Goodnight Tom. Or good morning.” He yawned widely, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Tom watched him sleep for a while, before closing his eyes and succumbing to sleep himself.

XXX

Four months later, somewhere near Ottery St. Catchpole.

Peter Pettigrew scuttled through the bushes, disguised as a rat, desperately trying to find his way back to the Weasleys’ home. After an hour of trying, he gave up and transformed into a human. With a huff of annoyance, and a prayer that no one spotted him, he apparated outside of the Burrow. Foolish Arthur Weasley believed his family were safe, and so none of them had thought to place wards around their home. This meant that Wormtail had spent many happy years under their roof with them none the wiser. And it meant he could walk right back in the door and nothing but the sound of his footsteps would alert them.

He took a quick look around, and closed his eyes. In his place now, was a small brown rat. He scuttled towards the door, clawing at it noisily. The door swung open and a tall red headed boy looked down at him.

“Ronald!” Percy Weasley cried. “Scabbers is back.” Percy had owned Scabbers for years, until he made Head Boy and his parents bought him an owl. He didn’t particularly like the rat; it gave him the creeps, always watching him, following him, smelling him and listening to him. It was like the rat understood him, which wasn’t normal. And Percy wasn’t particularly fond of things that were too far out of the ordinary.

Ron Weasley came charging down the stairs. He gave a cry of delight when he caught sight of the fat rat on the doorstep. “Scabbers! You came home, good boy!” He cried picking the animal up. Wormtail tried not to hurl as the redhead swung him around in an arc, grinning from freckled ear to ear. “I haven’t seen you since the end of-” he frowned and his eyes narrowed, “-that year.” He really didn’t enjoy mentioning anything to do with Harry Potter. “Where have you been?”

He waited, actually seeming to expect an answer. “He can’t talk, Ronald, he’s a rat.” Percy rolled his eyes and closed the front door. He headed back up the stairs just as his parents came down and the fireplace sprung to life.

Remus John Lupin stepped out and brushed himself down. The Werewolf had never really forgiven Dumbledore for sending Harry to Azkaban, but as he needed the money the man agreed to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. Remus, along with Sirius, had been best friends with James Potter, and Wormtail too. “Hello Molly,” he greeted with a small smile.

“Hello. Did that man send you?” They were all still rather miffed at Dumbledore, it seemed. But, Voldemort was growing ever stronger, and in times like these you needed to ally yourself to as many people as possible. None of them were so fickle as to alienate Dumbledore and risk rotting in Azkaban beside Harry, or dying by Voldemort’s hand.

“Yes. He’s calling a meeting. The old crowd is gathering again.” She gasped and Arthur pressed a hand to her shoulder.

“That bad is it, Remus?” He asked. Remus just nodded. Arthur looked around slowly, making sure that all of his children, especially Ron, were out of hearing range. “And Harry? What about him?”

“I went to Greyback, Arthur. He can’t get Harry out of Azkaban. But, he promised to protect him from the Wizards if someone else got him out.” Remus rubbed his eyes wearily. “I can’t think of anyone else.”

“What about You-Know-Who?” Someone said from behind them. They turned around; wands raised, to find Nymphandora Tonks – one of Harry’s arresting Aurors – sitting in the fireplace. “Fell over,” she said with a shrug.

“He isn’t even back yet. And regardless of what Dumbledore says, Harry is not in league with Him. Why would He help Harry?” Remus growled.

“Lucius Malfoy is trying to help. And Malfoy was one of Voldemort’s greatest supporters.” Hermione crossed her arms and glared at everyone in the room. She held one of the Weasley Twins’ Extendable Ears in her hand. “Don’t worry, I took it off them before they could hear too much.” Molly gasped and moved across the room to take the ear off Hermione. “Maybe it would be worth it asking for help. What’s the worst he could do? Kill us?”

“There are things worse than death, Hermione.” Remus whispered, remembering things that had happened to people he knew in the first war. “You shouldn’t have been listening in.”

“Don’t you want to help Harry?” She cried angrily.

“Of course I do!” He shouted back, “I just don’t believe Voldemort will!” He flinched and paled, as if saying the Dark Lord’s name would invite the evil into the house. He licked his lips nervously and turned to face the elder Weasleys, ignoring Hermione completely. “We should leave, we’ll be late.”

Wormtail was very pleased he had cast sensory heightening charms on himself before leaving for his mission. He had heard every word, even after the Mudblood girl had taken away the fake ear. With a squeak, he bit deeply into Ron’s finger, causing the boy to scream like a girl and throw Scabbers at the wall. Wormtail cursed mentally as he heaved himself up and ran through the hall and into the kitchen. His teeth clamped onto the edge of Remus’ frayed trousers just as the man stepped into the fireplace and disappeared in green flames.

Three hours later, Peter was running out of the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, his hands over his head, a yew wand in his pocket, and members of the Order shouting spells after him. When he was finally far enough away, he stopped to catch his breath, then apparated near Ottery St. Catchpole. When he landed, he bowed bow, his knees sinking in the mud as he handed the yew wand forward. Lord Voldemort took the wand and held it reverently, savouring the feel of it in the borrowed body’s hand.

He was now housed in the body of a blond haired Veela male. Unfortunately for the Veela, he had stumbled across Lord Voldemort just as his old body began to fail.

“My wand,” he hissed, stroking the dark wood, “my wand. Well done Wormtail.” His fingers brushed over the skull like carving at the top of the handle, and trailed down to finger the pointed tip. “My wand.”

“I aim to please, my Lord.”

“You did well. We can move on with our plan now.” His eyes narrowed at the cowering man. “Can’t we?”

“Of course, my Lord, at once. I have figured out where to get the blood from, my Lord. If Harry is no longer your enemy, then he is as close to a friend, is he not? And the enemy of your enemy is your friend?”

“What are you dribbling on about, Wormtail?” He asked, his patience was beginning to wear thin.

“My Lord, if you captured an enemy of Potter’s, his blood would work just as well.” Voldemort raised an eyebrow and drummed the fingers on one hand against his other arm. “Ronald Weasley, my Lord, despises Harry – probably more so than he hates and fears you.” Wormtail ducked his head down quickly, “my Lord.”

“Find me Ron Weasley.” He stroked the Veela’s chin and smirked. “The Weasley family will possibly be extinct by the time my plans are finished,” he laughed and Wormtail had little choice but to laugh along with him.

XXX

“I can’t believe it’s June already!” Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes angrily. “And Harry is still in Azkaban!” Beside her, Fred Weasley nudged her lightly and gave her a small smile.

“We’re trying, ok. We can’t do any more than that!” His brother, George, said.

Before anymore could be said, three teachers came running around the corner of the corridor and crashed right into the group of students. Professor Snape, Hooch and McGonagall picked themselves off the floor with various looks of displeasure, and waited until the students were standing.

“Why aren’t you watching the Third Task?” McGonagall asked curtly.

The Tri-Wizard Tournament had been called into play three months into the school year (which was just after Voldemort got his wand back), and by some miracle Ronald Weasley had cheated the age barrier and placed his name in the Goblet of Fire.

“We don’t really feel like watching my brother make a show of our entire family, Professor.” Fred said matter of factly.

“Well, there’s no need to worry about that,” Professor Hooch muttered and McGonagall shot her a dark look.

“Why is that Professor?” Hermione asked curiously.

Snape glared at each of them in turn. “Weasley has been Portkeyed out of the maze. Most likely by You-Know-Who.” None of the students looked particularly bothered. But then again, Ron didn’t have many friends this year, especially since he was always so busy mouthing off about Harry and claiming he could have saved his sister but Harry wouldn’t let him help, and then with the Tournament. People really did think he was an attention seeker – which he was – and were glad to be away from him. The only people who cheered for Ron were the Slytherins… when Ron got hurt.

XXX

In the cemetery outside of Riddle Manor, Ron Weasley found himself tied to a gravestone. Wormtail walked slowly around the large black cauldron in front of him, first dropping in a bone from someone’s leg, then he had cut Ron’s arm open and dropped some of the blood in. Now, he had the knife pressed to his own wrist, and he brought it down heavily, cleaving his hand off. The hand fell into the cauldron, and Wormtail’s screams were drowned out by the hissing and bubbling of whatever foul Potion was being brewed. When the hissing stopped, Ron noticed a very handsome blond man walk towards the cauldron.

The Veela had red eyes.

Lord Voldemort stepped into the cauldron, curling up until he was fully submerged by the Potion. When he stood up again, he no longer wore the body of the Veela. Instead he was tall and pale, his facial features were like that of Tom Riddle’s as was his hair. His eyes were still red, and he was unfortunately naked.

He hummed for a moment and nodded to Wormtail, who passed the wand over. Quickly conjuring a robe for himself, Voldemort smirked in triumph at the fear on the red heads face.

On the floor beside the Portkey was the petrified body of the other Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory. “Ah, good, you didn’t kill him.” The man floated the Portkey above the blond and let it drop. The Tri-Wizard Cup, and the Hufflepuff Seeker disappeared together.

A quick spell later and Wormtail had a brand new hand, made of silver and very shiny. After tapping his wand to Wormtail’s Dark Mark, Voldemort stood back and waited until his servants apparated to his side.

He was back, for good this time.

“My Lord,” the chorused, as they threw themselves to the ground at his feet.

It was good to be back.

XXX

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Almost everybody that's well-known gets tagged with a nickname. – Alan Alda.


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