Work Text:
She had thought that watching Sirius die had quite possibly been one of the most painful things that she had ever experienced, and ever could experience.
That was before she went to the goblins on a mere hope.
She wouldn’t have gone to them, if it wouldn’t’ve been for Aunt Petunia.
As she stared down at the parchment in her hands, she didn’t know who she hated more as pain lanced her heart.
Was it Professor Dumbledore?
Aunt Petunia?
Grindelwald?
Or herself?
It would only get worse.
Fourteen days earlier
“Get in here girl!”
Hazel quietly stepped into the living room where Aunt Petunia sat on the recliner with the newborn suckling at her breast. “Yes, Aunt Petunia?”
“I need you to go to the store for me.”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia. What will I be getting?”
“I need tampons. I started last night, and I have no more.”
“The usual size?”
“Yes. Pick yourself up some as well. I don’t want you bleeding all over the place.”
Hazel stopped at the door. “That won’t be a problem.”
“And why not? Do you freaks have some sort of cork you shove up there to stop it?” she hissed.
“Yes. It’s called a Blood Blocker, not that you’d want to know any details about it. But, that’s not why I don’t need tampons. I haven’t gotten my period yet.”
The older woman looked up from her infant daughter. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” She knew it wasn’t normal, but she tried not to think about it. “Do you need me to pick up anything else while I’m there?”
Her aunt stared at her for a moment with a strange look in her eyes. “Yes. Peach and pear baby puree.”
Her head tilted to the side. “So…two different flavors, or is that one flavor?”
“It’s one flavor. Come here, girl.” She did as commanded and took the proffered money. “Don’t dawdle.”
“Yes, Aunt Petunia.”
She was just grateful to be out of her cupboard for a short while.
Twelve days earlier
“Girl, come here!”
Hazel set the rag and cleaning solution down before she made her way to the living room where Petunia was dressed to go out with her daughter, Fortune, in her arms. “Yes, Aunt Petunia?”
The woman looked at her for a moment with pinched lips. “You’ll do. Duddikins!”
“What, mum?”
“The freak and I are going out! We’ll be taking Fortune with us.”
“Alright, mum.”
She was confused. “May I ask where we’re going?” Hazel questioned once they were outside and Aunt Petunia was buckling the infant into the car seat.
“In the car.” She sat in the back, next to her baby cousin, and once the car was started, she repeated the question. “I’ve made you a doctor’s appointment.”
“Why?”
“No more questions.”
She had many questions, especially when the nurse-practitioner ordered an ultrasound of her pelvis.
She didn’t ask why or what that was.
Ten days earlier
“Duddikins, you’re in charge of watching Fortune. The freak is coming with me to help carry groceries.”
Hazel didn’t ask why Petunia lied.
She bit her tongue as the medi—radiologist ran his machine across her lower stomach with cold gel.
She didn’t ask why he looked confused.
Nine days earlier
There was a knock on the cupboard. She shoved her book under the covers and looked up at Aunt Petunia who stared at the corner of it in distaste.
“The doctor wants a transvaginal ultrasound done.”
“Did she say why?”
“Don’t—don’t ask questions.”
It was hard to not ask questions when her Aunt trembled like that.
Six days earlier
Aunt Petunia held her hand during the examination.
She didn’t wipe away the tears that fell, and she didn’t comment on the squeezing of her hand, or the occasional tightening of the air whenever the machine inside of her clicked or twisted, manipulated by a man in his late fifties.
She didn’t hug her when it was done. Just threw her clothes at her, and when they got home, handed her a bag of ice, a wad of tissues, and a small candy bar.
She somehow got Vernon and Dudley to leave her alone.
It was enough.
Three days earlier
“I’m sorry, Miss Potter, but you can’t have children.”
“Why?”
She ignored the pulling of her hair from her cousin who leaned over from her mother’s arms.
She wasn’t berated for asking a question.
“It appears you were born without ovaries…”
Something tickled in the air. “What? What else aren’t you telling me?”
“You have a uterus, but, an extensive amount of scar-tissue has formed to the point that it will be impossible for you to carry a child. I’m sorry.”
She was handed Fortune as Petunia made the necessary excuses as to why she wouldn’t be coming in again. She buried her face into her cousin’s small neck, breathed in her sweet baby-smell, and cried.
She didn’t question her Aunt when she took Fortune from her in a way that made it feel like she got a hug.
She didn’t question the chocolate she found next to her pillow after she woke from crying herself to sleep.
Two days earlier
She didn’t question the sudden increase of chores that would keep her mind busy.
She didn’t question the sudden need for her to babysit.
She didn’t question the book suddenly thrust upon her before they left on their family outing.
She didn’t question the chocolate on her pillow before she cried herself to sleep again.
She didn’t question.
One day earlier
“Girl.”
“Yes?” She couldn’t be bothered to speak more.
“Do you freaks have a way to fix it?”
“Infertility?”
“Yes.”
“Probably.”
“Tomorrow. You’ll go and find out.”
“Why?”
Her aunt swallowed. “I would be nothing without my Dudley or my Fortune.”
She didn’t question the lack of bullying from Dudley that night.
She almost questioned the strange looks, and the invite to join him in watching something on the TV.
She did question the hug he gave her before she was banished to her cupboard.
Three hours earlier
Dudley walked her to the Leaky Cauldron with the excuse that he wanted to go explore London with his baby sister.
She spoke to him for the first time when they were a block from their destination—he had talked at her for the majority of the train ride, and had babbled for the first couple blocks before he realized she wouldn’t speak and fell silent.
“Dudley?”
“Yes, Nut—Hazel?”
She almost rolled her eyes at the slip. “I might not be back tonight.”
“Why?”
“I’ll be going to the goblins,” she said softly. She ran her fingers through her cousin’s downy soft hair. She’d never have a child that she’d be able to do that with. Pain lanced her heart. Why did he let her carry the baby? “Their magic is different from mine.”
“I’ll wait until five. If you’re not here, I’ll head home. How does that sound?”
“Why do you care?”
“I…I overheard mum last night. About you not being able to have children.”
“And?”
“I know that that’s all you’ve ever wanted was to be able to have a family of your own.”
“How?”
“School.” She nodded. “Did they tell you why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you couldn’t have children.”
“Scar tissue.”
“How—?”
“I assume it’s from the multiple attempts on my life since I was born.”
“What?”
“If you want to be happy, don’t ask.”
He asked.
She explained.
He hugged her before they parted.
She wanted to question him. She really, really did.
She couldn’t bare it with the loss of the comforting weight of Fortune in her arms, and the knowledge that she’d never have that for herself.
Four weeks ago, if you had asked Witch-Hazel Lilith Potter what the most painful thing she had ever experienced was, she would say that it had been watching her godfather die in front of her because of something she had caused—because she was foolish and reckless.
Three weeks ago, it would have stayed the same, even with being shoved back into the cupboard because her aunt had gotten pregnant and given birth to a preemie baby while she was at school.
Two weeks ago, it still would have been watching her godfather die.
A week ago, it might have changed to receiving a transvaginal ultrasound, and if it had, it would immediately revert back to her godfather (even if she swore that she could still feel the machine inside of her and had to check to make sure that it wasn’t on a couple of occasions).
Three days ago, it had changed to learning that she could never have children, and had stayed that way up until three hours ago when she had walked into a Ritual Room at Gringotts Bank.
But now, three hours after she took an Inheritance Test, and had a health examination, she stared at the results with her mind unable to process what she saw.
Name : Witch-Hazel Lilith Potter
Blood Status: Half-blood
Parents :
James Fleamont Potter—DECEASED
Lily Rose Potter nee Evans—DECEASED
Guardians : Sirius Orion Black—DECEASED
Titles :
Lady Emrys of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Emrys
Lady Gryffindor of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Gryffindor
Heir Apparent of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Peverell
Blood Heir of the Noble House of Potter
Appointed Heir of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black
Blocks : 83% Core Block (placed by Albus P. W. B. Dumbledore)
Compulsions : ALL PLACED BY ALBUS P. W. B. DUMBLEDORE
Compulsion to be Brave
Compulsion to be Pliable
Compulsion to be Reckless
Compulsion to be Stubborn
Compulsion to be Close-Minded
Compulsion to love Flying
Compulsion to love Weasleys
Compulsion to love Dead Parents
Compulsion to hate Slytherins
Compulsion to hate Grindelwald
Compulsion to hate Severus Snape
Compulsion to Blindly Trust Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
Compulsion to dislike School and Research
Spells : ALL PLACED BY ALBUS P. W. B. DUMBLEDORE
Love spell linked to Ronald Billius Weasley
Infertility Spell: Fecunditate Enim Cicatricem Tibi
“Lady Emrys?”
She slowly looked up. “What does this mean? Can you fix it?”
“We can remove the blocks, compulsions, and spells, but I’m afraid that the reversal of the infertility spell will do nothing for the reason you came in.”
“What do you mean?”
“It causes scar tissue to line the uterus. While we can remove it, that’s not the base cause of your infertility, and because of that, we can’t fully fertilize you again.”
“What do you mean?”
Her heart hurt. “The spell removed your ovaries. It caused only some of the scar tissue. The other tissue was caused due to high magical damage at a very young age.”
It clicked. “When I defeated Grindelwald.”
“Yes.”
She was silent as she fingered the mark on her face, and pressed against her lower belly. “What would you like to do, Lady Emrys?”
“Remove it all.”
Griphook nodded, and the goblin-healer stepped into the room. “I advise against the compulsions being removed.”
“Why?”
“They were all placed at the same time, when you were fifteen months old. They have become a key part of your personality. If you remove them, there is a high possibility of breaking your mind.”
“I’m more than reckless, and stupid, and brave. I’m more than those compulsions. Please. I want them gone.”
The healer waited for a moment before she nodded at the desperation in her voice. “Very well.”
Dudley Dursley stared at the thick paper in his hands. It had showed up the moment he stepped outside of what he hoped was the entrance to the Wizarding World.
Mr. Dudley
Your cousin will not be accompanying you home, and she will likely not be returning before the start of school.
Griphook,
Potter Account Manager
Gringotts International Wizarding Bank
He bit his lip, before he went home, his baby sister held tightly in his arms.
Tom Riddle, newly appointed Head Boy, sat in the living room of Spinner’s End Cottage while he read a complex treatise on Ancient Dueling Magick. He was quite engrossed in it, and took notes while his guardian brewed potions in the other room.
He startled when the floo lit up. When four goblins exited the floo with a pale-skinned, red-haired, and trembling girl trying to hide behind them, he called for his guardian.
“Severus! The goblins have a gift for you.”
Muffled curses left the room behind him before the man entered the room. “What is this?” he demanded when he entered.
“Master Snape. We have come to ask for your help.”
“What is it?”
Tom shifted slightly, and the girl somehow grew paler and tripped over her own two feet and fell into the fireplace. Two of the goblins pinned her sobbing and screaming form down while another shoved something down her throat, and she fell limp between them.
“Despite better judgement…we recently removed a numerous amount of compulsions and blockages from Lady Emrys.” The two men gaped at the name. “We have tried numerous things to aid the transition, but it has only served to make her worse. We hoped that you would have some potion that would help her.”
“I would need to examine her first.”
The goblin nodded, and the girl was sat up and Tom gaped at who he saw.
It was Potter.
The sniveling little brat who thought she was better than everyone around her because she had defeated a Dark Lord as a baby—and even then, she hadn’t done a very good job at it (from what he heard, the man had gone into hiding to nurse his near-fatal wounds). The little hellion who treated all Slytherin’s as if they were dirt, and sneered at everything she deemed unworthy of her ‘precious’ time and attention.
She was Lady Emrys?
How?
How was she—
He couldn’t finish the thought.
Severus Snape swallowed thickly at the pale face that reminded him too much of his childhood friend and stepped forward. He knelt on the ground next to her, and waited for her to open her eyes, and prepared himself for the inevitable sneer that would cross her face.
It never came.
Instead, the eyes widened in fear, and she tried to scramble away from him, only to be blocked by the goblins. Tears fell out of her eyes, and she started to tremble in earnest. “Don’t—don’t—don’t hurt me! Please, I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” she started to babble. She curled into a ball and continued to babble incoherently.
“What were the compulsions removed?” He ignored his ward when he stood up and stood behind him. He was handed a parchment, and he cursed silently under his breath when his eyes landed two of the compulsions
Compulsion to hate Slytherins
Compulsion to hate Severus Snape
“Well that explains it,” Tom scoffed behind him.
“Go to the next room.”
“What—I can help!”
“Now, Tom.”
“Fine.”
Once the screams that caused the house to tremble and the walls shake with Magic ended, Tom emerged from his room and watched Severus put the girl into the room across from his.
“Tom.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t—do anything to her.”
He manipulated his face into something innocent. “I don’t know what you—”
“Tom!” he hissed, “her mind is broken. She has been reduced to an infant in a teen’s body. The compulsions were so intertwined with her mind and sense of self, that she has no clue who she is anymore.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who placed them?”
“You very well know who. You saw the results, just as I did.”
He smirked. “What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing, for now. For the moment, we are going to work on piecing her mind back together.”
“You say she’s an infant?”
“Essentially.”
“Will she act like an infant?” His nose twitched in disgust.
“No. She will be able to control bodily functions. It’s only mentally and personality-wise that she’s so young. Please, Tom. I know you hate her. But, she’s no longer that girl we knew.”
“I’ll do my best.”
The man with blue eyes was kind.
She liked him.
She could tell that he didn’t like her much, but she felt safe around him.
The man with dark eyes scared her, but he was nice.
He helped her.
She could tell that he cared about her, but didn’t know how to act around her.
She felt content.
Every morning, and every night, were spent with the two males diving into her mind, and piecing the fractures back together.
It was painful for all parties involved.
It was two hours of hell for Hazel, and an hour of hell for Tom and Severus, as they took turns. Severus would do the main bindings, and Tom would hold them while Severus shoved potion after potion down her throat.
Sometimes it was faster, most times it took longer.
Their days were spent brewing, researching, or helping the mentally-trapped teen.
It was exhausting
She liked reading.
Music was nice.
Potion’s smelled gross.
She hated meat.
She liked swimming.
She hated heights, and that meant flying was an absolute nope.
She didn’t mind Dark Magic.
Blue-Eyes was kinder to her. He read to her and didn’t mind when she latched onto him for a hug.
Dark-Eyes smiled more. He let her help with his potion’s, and she found she quite enjoyed the repetitive motions that brewing brought.
She hated the memories that were constantly brought up.
She hated the pain in her head.
She hated Albus Dumbledore.
Tom grew fond of the barnacle.
After she woke up from her much-needed naps from the healing attempts, she would find him and curl up on his lap, and force him to read to her.
She often touched the skin by his eyes, or his Adam’s apple while he read—that had taken some getting used to.
It had taken the fifth time that she touched his throat while he read, that he learned it wasn’t a silent command to stop, but in fascination; he would have to start reading to stop the crying, and he’d usually hex Severus whenever he’d smirk at the picture the two made.
Severus grew to care for her like his own daughter.
The mornings and nights were hard, but the days, when she was smiling, and happy, and carefree—as long as nothing scared her or moved too fast—were fine. Great, even.
He couldn’t have asked for a better family.
Brewing became fun again. It was no longer an escape from daily life, as it had become after Tom had decided that he was more interested in Dueling than he was in Potions. It was no longer an obligation.
He found that she had a strong memory, was eager to learn, and actually liked and respected the subject.
He’d find himself hexing Tom whenever he’d step into the room and find him practically dancing around the girl as he explained everything about the potion he was brewing that day.
She couldn’t speak.
Blue-Eyes and Dark-Eyes could speak. They made sounds that she understood, but whenever she’d try, mourning moans, and gasping hisses would leave her mouth.
She didn’t know how to tell them that she liked them.
The first time she communicated with more than touching his face or his books or sitting in his lap, was on her sixteenth birthday.
She had looked him in the eyes for the first time, and memories that didn’t belong to him flickered in his mind until a clear picture was formed.
She was fond of him.
Tom felt guilty.
She was scared to sleep, and she was scared to leave her bedroom, and she was so terrified of every little thing, that he didn’t know what to do or how to help.
When she turned to Severus, and a tear slipped out of his eye, he figured that she had shown him the same thing that she had shown him.
Severus left.
Tom wrapped the crying girl into his arms.
Fear.
Fear was all she knew.
She was scared of the dark.
Dark was bad.
Very Bad.
Light was bad.
Everything was bad.
Bad.
Bad.
Bad.
BAD.
Except.
Not Blue-Eyes.
Or Dark-Eyes.
Good.
Good.
Good.
GOOD.
It was a week after she started to communicate with them, that Tom was woken up by a weight settling on the end of his bed. He slowly sat up—slow movements had become an absolute must—and looked.
Hazel sat there with tears streaming down her face while barely distinguishable fairy lights hovered around her head—they had become a constant the last few days, and would dim if she was trying to not irritate them.
“Hazel? What’s wrong?” He looked into her eyes, and all he saw was—
—fear pain Vernon help spiders pain lonely dark dark dark dark dark—
“Come here,” he whispered. He held out his arms and she quickly launched herself at him. He laid down with her held close, and tried to maneuver her under the covers, but she was having none of it. “Hazel—”
—blood blood blood death dark Veil dark dark cold hot scared fear fear Veil fear—
“Hey, it’s okay. Shh…I won’t make you hide.” She tucked her head under his chin and pulled his right hand between them—it was painful as she laid on his upper arm, but he cast a numbing charm. She played with the fingers of his hand, and stroked the long, vertical scar that spanned the length of his pointer finger—she enjoyed doing that more than he liked.
Three clicks that sounded like a spoon against a fine wine glass filled the room, and he looked into her eyes.
—what when where blood pain hurt when why why why why—
“Go to sleep, Hazel.”
—why why why why scared dark no sleep dark scared fear blood dark dark dark—
He wasn’t ashamed that he put a sleeping spell on her.
Scars.
She had so many scars.
Blue-Eyes had scars.
Dark-Eyes had a mark on his arm.
Why did they make her so sad?
After she started to sleep with either Tom or Severus, she started to recover much quicker.
She had started to make sounds with the back of her throat that began to sound more and more like words, yet not, at the same time. Her voice would hum softly, and then she’d see something, her head would tilt to the side, and her voice would raise in pitch as four pings would echo in the room.
That had been something else that had become more refined.
It had come from the week she was with the goblins, and the first few days she was with them. She had constantly needed a glass of Calming Draught in her hands, and whenever she would be asked a question, she would tap her Emrys Ring against the edge of it.
They had quickly gotten the Draught away from her as a larger dependency than she already had would just reverse the attempts to heal her mind, but the chimes stayed.
One was ‘no’.
Two was ‘yes’.
Three was ‘look at me’.
Four was anything that had to do with a question—context would depend on if it was ‘what’ ‘why’ ‘how’ or ‘when’. ‘Who’ wasn’t an option at the moment, as even saying someone’s name would set her off into a panic attack of the century.
There was another, and it was ‘I don’t know’. It was formed by slow clicks, and would last until either the question was rephrased or a different one asked.
Tom and Severus hoped that soon she would figure out how to speak again.
It didn’t seem like it would happen soon.
Within days, Tom got used to having Hazel sleep in his bed.
It had gotten to the point, that whenever she chose to sleep in Severus’ bed, he would go and collect her shortly after she fell asleep, and would take her either to his room, or the living room, depending on the time of day.
She never slept under the covers, as every time they’d try to cover her, the same image of Sirius Black falling through the Veil, and then Grindelwald and his forces moving in to attack would enter their minds.
He started reading Advanced Legilimency and Advanced Occlumency books over his Dueling books to see if there could be a way for him to hide that memory from her.
He could hold the fractures together while Severus poured the potions down her throat to make the bindings more permanent, but at the moment, that was all he could do.
It was hard to ignore his ward when he would stand behind him and glare death into his back.
“Yes, Tom?” Severus sighed.
“What are we going to do?”
“About what? Make yourself useful and start on the next batch of the binding potion.”
A sigh, and then the tell-tale clatter of brewing. “About school. It’s in a week.”
“She’ll be going back.”
A crash, muffled curse, and considering he was still living, a successful save. “She can barely leave her bedroom or the living room, and still has issues if one of us is too quiet or loud or moves too fast. What makes you think she’ll be able to handle Hogwarts?”
“She won’t be attending classes.”
“Then what will she be doing?”
“She’ll be hidden away in my quarters. Albus and the Dark Lord are convinced that she is missing, and that the other side has her hidden away. It is best that this remain their truth for as long as possible.”
“And you think that hiding her in your quarters, under Dumbledore’s nose will work in your favor?”
“Yes. Because—let me speak, fool! I believe it will work, because he won’t expect it. He’s constantly begging me to get her away from him, and the Dark Lord is constantly demanding that I get her away from Albus. No one will expect her to be in my bedroom at school.”
Five chimes echoed in the brewing room, and they exchanged panicked glances before they turned back to see Hazel in the doorway, her hands playing with her signet rings. “Hazel, what does five mean?”
Three chimes.
Severus made eye-contact.
—friends traitors school fun happy home home home home home home home home—
“I take it you want to go then.”
Two chimes.
Tom moved away from the cauldron and cupped her face in his hands. “You’re not ready.”
—you’re not ready not ready ready ready ready I am ready ready ready—
“Hazel—”
—hide hide hide safe Blue-Eyes safe safe calm happy safe safe home home home—
He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against hers. “Hazel, what if they hurt you?”
Slow chimes.
“Tom—let’s all sleep on it. If we decide that being at school, with both of us to heal her is the best solution, then everything is worked out with the house elves to keep her hidden.”
He didn’t want to leave her, but he also didn’t want to make whatever progress they had made go backwards.
She woke up in Blue-Eye’s arms again.
She had curled up in Dark-Eye’s bed, and woke up here.
She wondered who moved her, but she also didn’t care. She felt safe when she was with him. She felt…not whole, but close.
She wondered if he would be the one to finally free her from her mind. She only had faint moments of lucidity, and they were often, but they were so swift that it was often too difficult to get anything out.
She ran a finger along one of the buttons on his shirt, and shivered slightly. He bundled her closer, and she was lost once more to her mind.
Tom woke up before her.
That never happened. She usually only slept for short bursts before she’d wake up jerking violently, and then he’d have to work to get her back to sleep, but it was always that she woke first.
He took the opportunity to stroke her cheek and admire the pale freckles on her skin. He stroked the eyelids, framed by long, dark lashes that hid brilliant green eyes, and he wished for just a moment that she would open them, smile at him, and speak.
It wouldn’t happen though.
At least, not before he went back to school in two days’ time.
Merlin, the thought of leaving her ate a hole in his heart so large he didn’t think it would ever heal. At first, his feelings had been that of reluctant fondness, and then they grew to fondness, and then friendship, and now….
Now…if he didn’t know any better, he’d say that they bordered on romantic love.
But that wasn’t possible. He had been born under a love potion. He wasn’t incapable of love….
Wasn’t he?
Her lids fluttered under his fingertips, and brilliant green orbs smiled at him, and his heart stopped. His breath stopped. His blood—
Good morning.
It took all of his will power to not kiss her.
“Hazel?”
—what did I do wrong sorry sorry sorry sorry—
“Hazel, no! No, no, no, no, sweetie. You did amazing. Can you do it again?” Four chimes. “You spoke into my mind without using memories.”
Am I lucid enough to do this? Can you finally understand me?
“How long have you been trying to communicate like this?
Weeks. Doesn’t work. Not lucid—sorry failure not ready help help help—
“Hey, shh, shh, shh, it’s okay. Shh, you’re okay.” He bundled her close, and it was in that moment, that he decided.
Five chimes.
He pulled away and looked into her eyes. “What does that mean, Hazel?”
Help.
“She won’t be staying in your office.”
Severus flinched and cursed his ward out while he quickly cast the spells to contain the violent reaction that was about to happen. “Tom—” he turned around to hiss and stopped short when he saw the two teens holding hands. His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”
“She’ll be staying in the Chamber.”
“So, you found it?”
“Yes. Fifth year. It has numerous stasis charms on it that affect the living creatures inside of it. I believe that if she were to stay there, the binding potion and the Legilimency probes would be the most effective.”
“What brought this on?”
“She spoke into my mind without memories this morning. I believe that we’re nearly there. Maybe we could even see if Salazar has anything that might help.”
He thought for a moment, and five chimes echoed softly.
Tom turned to her. “It’s okay. We’re going to help you.”
“What did she tell you?”
“She’s trapped. She’s there, the person who wasn’t made from the compulsions and the blockage, she’s trapped under the fractures.”
He nodded. “I’ll arrange it with the elves.”
She liked the echo the Chamber made as she hummed.
She liked the scales of the basilisk.
She liked the soft ripples of light the puddles of water made on the ceiling.
Those were the only things she liked about the Chamber, however.
She grew dependent on Calming Draught again.
She grew terrified of her own shadow again.
Her only relief was during the night when Blue-Eyes would come sleep next to her, and the mornings and evenings when they’d try and fix her mind.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” Tom groaned as they moved along the damp tunnels.
“Why?”
“She’s dependent on the Draught again.”
“I’m not worried. I thought she would be. I’ve been diluting it, so hopefully she’ll be able to function again without it.”
Tom nodded and they walked a bit further. “Have you seen her friends?”
His guardian scoffed. “Who hasn’t? They walk around as if they run the school, just like they always have.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What do you mean then?”
“They act as if Hazel was never there. As if there’s not something missing with her gone.”
Severus hummed. “Yes, I noticed that you act like she’s gone,” he lightly teased.
“So do you, old man.”
“Of course, I do. She’s become the daughter I’ve always wanted.”
“And me?”
“The annoying nephew.”
Tom laughed and nudged him, and the two carefully made their way into the main ante-chamber that Hazel spent most of her time in.
He paused and stared at her for a minute before he chuckled softly.
She sat cross-legged on top of Hissiska while she read a book and hummed softly. His foot hit a pebble, and the sound startled her. A loud gong-like sound echoed as she lost her balance and fell behind Hissiska.
There were no groans of pain. Muffled curses.
There was only the tightening of Magic in the air and sobs of terror.
Five chimes.
She lost track of time.
She only knew fear and peace.
She was trapped.
She loved Blue-Eyes.
She couldn’t tell him.
She hated her mind.
He awoke to fingers on his face. His eyes opened heavily.
Blue-Eyes.
“Hazel. What’s wrong?”
Lucid. Somewhat.
“What?”
Permanent stasis charm.
“What are you talking about?”
Blue-Eyes. Hissiska. Stasis. Heal.
She was losing control. “Hazel, hey, hey, calm down. Shh. Why do you call me Blue-Eyes?”
—I never want to hear my name ever come from your filthy little mouth again, got it runt?—
He hadn’t treated her well before this either. “I’m sorry.”
—sorry sorry sorry sorry Riddle Tom sorry love sorry sorry friend friend home happy—
“Yes, we’re friends. You can call me Tom, Hazel-love.”
Five chimes.
Permanent. Stasis. Help.
“How?” he plead desperately.
Hissiska—snake happy home scared fear lonely dark spider bones fear fear bad bad bad—
Oh.
Severus ignored the glass now embedded into his hand. “She said what?” he hissed.
“She said that she thinks petrifying her will help with the bindings. I don’t know why.”
“You gave her the ability to speak Parseltongue, didn’t you? From one of Slytherin’s books?” he questioned.
“Yes. There’s a chance that she and Hissiska have been talking about it in her moments of lucidity. She’s also been reading a lot. Maybe she’s found something that we haven’t, and she knows that petrifying her, or at least her mind, will aid in freeing her.”
He scoffed under his breath. “It figures that the only way to free her is to trap her even further.” He threw the destroyed cauldron across the room with a wave of his hand, and relished in the crash and shards that was created because of it. “I’ll talk to the goblins to find out what they think.”
His ward nodded before he left.
He allowed a moment of weakness before he floo’d the goblins.
She stared at the words in front of her, and as steadying gongs echoed throughout the Chamber, she knew it was the only way.
She showed the book to Hissiska, and once she was sure that the ancient being—that had been infused with the very essence of Salazar Slytherin himself—was in agreement with herself, she moved to a pond of water with the book in her hands, laid down, and stared into the reflection of yellow eyes.
He hated her.
He loved her.
As he held her petrified form in his arms, he wanted to kill her, and kiss her.
He read over the research that she had completed in his absence, and he grew to love her even more.
When he showed the research to the goblins—with a temporary translation spell—they agreed with what the girl and ancient snake had done.
He and Severus continued to bind her mind.
It was a week before the winter holidays started, that he came across another book, one that she had hidden in her pocket.
Her mind would stay petrified, but her body would no longer be frozen.
In the margin of the ancient text, was a note.
I trust you.
His nights were no longer spent sleeping.
He had found a recipe for a potion that would imitate 8 hours of sleep with every dose, and would need to be taken every twelve. He made it, and he spent his nights piecing together her mind while the elves took care of her bodily functions.
They no longer needed the binding potion’s due to the petrification on her mind, and so he had been able to take over the healing process to allow Severus to be able to do his job, and successfully mislead the Dark Lord and Dumbledore.
Hazel had been right, in that a more permanent stasis charm on her mind would increase the healing process exponentially. But, what he hadn’t expected—he wasn’t sure if she had expected it or not—was the fact that her mind was no longer guarded.
While it hadn’t been guarded much before, they had never come across anything truly horrifying to see while she was there. They got the basic gist of her home life, had learned that it was nearly as bad as what Tom had experienced at the orphanage, and had left it at that.
They didn’t know why she had gone to the goblins.
They didn’t know why she so desperately wanted the compulsions to be taken away, although they had guessed it had something to do with betrayal.
How wrong they had been.
Her childhood made the torture he had received at the orphanage look like a pleasant summer day with a loving family. Her uncle made the priests look like angels, even as they held knives above him, trying to free him of ‘bad influences’—AKA his magic. Her aunt made the matron who locked him away in the cellar in the middle of winter with no blankets look like the patron Saint of some hospital or city. Her older cousin made the other orphans who carved into his right hand, look like playful brothers and sisters.
Her baby cousin…somehow, she evoked so much pain and anguish, that he couldn’t help but dig deeper into her mind.
What he found was devastating.
Buried deep in her mind—where most Occlumens considered where the heart of a person was—was what appeared to be a cracked mirror. There were 15 shards, and on each shard was a different memory. Surrounding each memory appeared to be a chain made of fine thorns that dripped poison whenever they moved.
Behind the mess, in between the gaps, was Hazel.
She was naked, and curled into a ball. She was shivering, and held herself tightly. Hazel he spoke.
She looked up and smiled at him. She stood, and she glowed as she walked towards him. She held out a hand and stopped before she would pass one of the gaps.
I trust you, Tom. Save me.
He looked around. I don’t know if I can.
Have courage.
He shook his head. I’m no Gryffindor. I’m not brave. What if I make it worse?
She reached a hand out and stroked his face, and he leaned into it. He heard the distinct five chimes and ignored the blood that started to form on the part of her body that was passed the broken barrier.
Bravery and courage are not the same, Tom. I would know. I was cursed to be brave. To be brave, is to confront pain, danger, or something absolutely terrifying without feeling fear. To be brave, is to be stupid. To have courage, however, is to confront pain, danger, and something absolutely terrifying while being completely terrified.
I’m scared.
No one is infallible, Tom. No matter what we do to defeat our demons, they’re always there, lurking on the edges, waiting for the opportune time to strike. Tom, my demons have struck, and I am stuck. They have struck, and a mad woman has been created, my fears consolidated, my friendships shattered…and my very life disintegrated. We all fear something, Tom. Be it something small like spiders, or something as crushingly constant as the darkness around us. Tom, I’m dying. I need you to save me. To free me. I need you to fight my demons for me.
He swallowed. I can’t lose you, Hazel.
She stroked his face. So don’t.
Save me, Tom.
“You need to rest.”
“No, what I need is to save her.”
“Tom, you won’t save her by doing this to yourself.”
He turned and snarled at his guardian and mentor and shoved him against the wall with his throat pinned beneath his hands. “I will save her. She’s dying.”
“What did you see?”
“The reason why she went to the goblin’s in the first place.”
“Which is?”
“She’s infertile. Created by a spell placed by Dumbledore, and severe Magical damage when she was young. She had gone to them to see if there was a way that she could have children.”
Severus paled and cursed softly before he nodded. “Don’t—don’t push yourself too hard, Tom.”
“I refuse to promise that.”
He sighed, and he was left alone with Hazel.
It was his birthday.
She laid in his arms, her mind mostly healed.
It had been that way for a week. Stuck. Never improving. He had gotten the thorn-chains and poison removed from the shards, but, the shards refused to mend themselves.
He didn’t blame them.
They were the worst memories of her life.
The death of her godfather. The resurrection of the Dark Lord. Eleven of the fourteen days that led up to her going to the goblins. The discovering that she wasn’t a freak, and then finding out that even in a world with others like her, she wasn’t normal.
The day he practically told her that he’d kill her if she ever said his name again.
That was a shock. It had been when he was in his fifth year, and he had been crippling under the stress of 12 OWLs, and he had run into her, or she had run into him. She had apologized, helped him pick up his things, and then he snapped at her.
I don’t ever want to hear my name come out of your filthy little mouth again, runt.
That was quite possibly the only time he would ever regret anything. It didn’t matter that it was before the new development in their relationship.
At one point in time, he told the girl he loved that he never wanted her to speak his name.
He swiped at the tears on his face, and leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.
Everything felt right.
And everything glowed.
The defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald came from an unlikely place.
It came in the year 1997 by one Tom Marvolo Riddle, commonly known as Lord Slytherin since he had turned 17 years old and had been allowed to collect his Lordships.
The entirety of the Wizarding World—both European, and not—had all expected a Hazel Potter to be the one to defeat him once more.
She never did.
In fact, it was soon known after his defeat, that she had gone missing the summer before her sixth year, and no one knew where she had been, and her friends had thought she had killed herself.
In the winter of 1997, Lord Slytherin married the Lady Emrys, whose face had remained unseen until three weeks after their wedding, and she was revealed to be Hazel Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived.
In the summer of 1998, it became common knowledge what Albus Dumbledore had done to the girl when she was a child, and was sentenced to 30 life sentences in Azkaban—a life for each of the compulsions, ten for the blockage, one for the love spell, and five for the infertility spell, and one just because (it was the only one that couldn’t be overruled at any point in time).
After the defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald, and the imprisonment of his once-lover, life became peaceful in the Wizarding World.
“Hazel!”
She slapped her hands over her mouth and stifled the giggle that threatened to escape her lips. “Witch-Hazel Lilith Riddle you get down here this instant!” She snorted again and exchanged a look with Severus.
He shook his head, and she eagerly agreed with him. She tapped into the wards of the Emrys Summer Home and found him in the entry room, and five chimes echoed in that room.
“Hazel!” She snorted again, this time at the panic, and kicked Sevvy when he laughed and blew their cover.
“Go, go, go!” she hissed. He laughed again and shook his head, and she stood from their hiding place and had ran to the door to find a different room to hide when she slammed into the fit form of her husband.
“Hazel,” he growled. He began to check her over with an efficiency that would make Healer Draco Malfoy very proud. “Please tell me you’re alright.”
She nodded her head and wrapped her arms around his waist and burrowed deep into his embrace. “I’m fine.”
“Then why did I get that summons from Severus telling me to come as quickly as I could?” he demanded as he cupped her face into his hands.
She held up a small vial with a bright blue potion in it. “He finished it.”
He grinned and tears filled his eyes and he looked to the man who had raised him since he was eleven. “Really?”
“Yep. Successfully tested on 13 subjects. All carried to term and all have healthy children.”
“We can be parents, Tom,” she whispered with glee on her face. “Actual biological parents.”
He grinned and kissed her face, and the two ignored their father figure when he left the room.
That night, they were pleased to tell their twin sons they had adopted that they were going to be big brothers.
It was a happy day for the Riddle clan, and there would be many more to come.