Categories > Books > Harry Potter > Unlikely
April 30th, 1997
"All weapons must be passed over before audience is granted with the Emperor, Headmaster Riddle."
"I know that," Riddle replied, handing over his wand. Harry did likewise.
They passed through several doors and many more charms before finally reaching the Emperor.
"Leave us," Riddle said to the attendant that had followed them through.
"But you—"
"Listen to what he says," the Emperor ordered.
Without further protest the attendant departed, closing the doors behind him.
The Emperor placed the palms of his hands together and rested them on the great desk in front of him. "Did you secure the Deathstick?"
"Regrettably no," Riddle lied as he and Harry took their seats. "But it was destroyed, which we perhaps may count in our favor."
A frown spread across the Emperor's face. "Then the tokens of Grindelwald's reign are no longer whole."
"Let us make hot chocolate as we discuss," Riddle suggested.
"Really now. I know you have a slight obsession, but the temperature is perfectly fine."
"It will relax us all. And I know that you appreciate a good cup as well."
"Very well." The Emperor took out his wand and gave it a few waves. Mugs and various ingredients appeared in front of them, which Riddle took in order to prepare their drinks.
"Nutmeg, a dash of ginseng, surprise me on the chocolate," the Emperor said. He smirked.
They talked as Riddle worked, and the focus of the conversation was quickly turned from Riddle to Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, though, as the Emperor was turned fully to Harry, he noticed Riddle discreetly scratch a blackening finger over one of the cups. It nearly stopped Harry in the middle of his talking, but the Emperor didn't seem to notice the hiccup.
Nothing unusual happened for most of the meeting. After the Emperor had been sufficiently consoled about the Elder Wand they moved on to more general war reports. Leviathan was preparing to counter-invade Behemoth, and disunity was growing in the states of Ziz. Other countries were still watching to see whether and where to throw their weight, but it would be always anyone's game until the last spell had been cast.
At the end, however, as he was shaking their hands and thanking them for coming, the Emperor did give a slight cough. Perhaps it had been nothing. But it did weigh on Harry's mind, and he brought it up to Riddle when they returned to Riddle's office.
"Did you do something to the Emperor? I saw you do something to your hand."
"Hot chocolate, Harry?"
"No thanks."
"Suit yourself."
"Did you poison him?"
Riddle stirred his hot chocolate for a little bit before he said anything. "Everyone thinks that the hot chocolate is special in some way. They think that I've done something to it. Truth serum, elixirs to bend them to their will, terrible poisons. Everyone except for the very young. That my room is intentionally cold only heightens their suspicion. But that isn't the truth at all, and they find that out as soon as they run through every diagnostic spell in their repertoire. But do you know where their undoing comes in?"
If this was the game that Riddle was going to play… Harry sighed. "Where?"
"They never suspect that the hot chocolate itself could have an effect." Riddle smiled and drank from his mug. "Chocolate has a chemical effect all on its own, and that is heightened when it is warming you. They feel better, happier, and it does not take much to get them to associate that with me if this suits my purposes. And the chocolate, as I told the Emperor, relaxes a mind and puts it at peace. This is why we use it to counteract dementors after all."
"So you didn't do anything." Riddle must have just been… itchy. And Harry was suspecting him of foul play because he still couldn't separate Riddle from Voldemort in his mind.
"Oh no, I poisoned him."
"This curse that was inflicted upon me," Riddle continued, "has turned out to be quite serendipitous. It embeds itself in the flesh— that is, it is not I that am cursed, but this blackening flesh, and the curse is merely spreading. And I had a true excuse for why I possessed it. But the biggest problem I suppose is that the Emperor's security was lax. They saw the curse. Perhaps they were less imaginative than I or simply didn't understand its nature. But ultimately they trust me, as the Emperor does, and all that they did in taking our wands was the bare minimum expected of them by protocol."
"So you're both going to die."
Riddle shook his head. "It seems curable, and if worst comes to worst then I shall simply divest myself of a limb. But the Emperor will not know what ails him, and it will be ensured that he is given the correct medical attention. By the time that symptoms appear it should be easy to give a misdiagnosis that looks correct to any to care to investigate."
"Why are you doing this?"
"For Harry's sake. She will inherit Grindelwald's throne, and she shall do it by ascending to the seat at Milan."
"But she isn't even in line for the throne. Or am I missing something?"
"You're clear enough right now. Do you remember Osvaldo Lazzara, the Duke-Governor?"
"Yes. I thought that he was the next in line. Are you planning on killing him too?"
Riddle laughed. "No. I need do nothing else at this point. Lazzara is a loyal man, honestly grateful to me for my aid and aware of what he owes me. He will make sure that the Emperor's death goes as planned and no one is the wiser. Afterward, he will… To be frank, he will be my puppet. But that is not his true use. Harry will surely be a Knight of Merlin, and she will grow in influence from there. She is already positioning herself perfectly for the right moment."
"To kill Lazzara herself?"
"Not at all. Others will do that. Lazzara is a loyal man, but he can barely handle his present position. I can make sure that the war goes smoothly and the country continues to function but he will dissatisfy many. At this very moment, the future coup is inevitable. It is written on the walls, even before Lazzara takes the throne. And when it happens, Harry will be the best and brightest choice for his replacement."
"And then you'll be the power behind Harry's throne."
"The dawn's mean wane," Riddle said. "The very last part of the prophecy. I have thought about that for a long time, wondering what it means. I am inclined to think that this means the world stands to get only better from here, so long as Harry sets it on the right course. I see no reason that I will not benefit from this. But must I be a miser that can only be satisfied when everyone else is not? Everyone wins when everyone is prosperous.
"But more," Riddle added, "this is the proof of my power. It is I that will accomplish the purposes of fate and be the architect of whatever age Harry may be a herald of. It is I that will set Harry at Milan. It is I who say 'Ask whatever it is that you want, and it will be given you.' And this is why I am strong, because I can, and I will, give anything to those that serve me."
"I see."
Riddle nodded. "There are ways in which I am not very far from your Voldemort, and some in which I am an entirely different shade of black. Let me ask you, if I may: Do you happen to know the name of the man that visited an orphanage many years ago, in order to introduce an eleven-year-old boy to the magical world?"
"Albus Dumbledore."
"I had thought so. But here, in my world, he was forced to attend to another task. It had come up without warning, so quickly, and I began to think, as I wondered how our histories had diverged, that this had been such an unlikely occurrence. Perhaps that was where we parted ways. And now I see that I am right, and I know for the first time exactly how important first impressions may be."
"Who went to visit you then?"
"Horace Slughorn. A gregarious man, a Slytherin like myself. And he saw something in me that day. It troubled him, but he looked within himself and he saw what could be done about it. He taught me that it is better to be loved than to be feared, and how much power I could wield thereby. I saw in Slughorn a model for myself, and when I most wanted to be vicious and sadistic, as I had been in my years before I took residence with Slughorn, I remembered the differences in power that were held by despots and by heroes. It was, really, those that were loved whose power was more secure. Perhaps if Dumbledore had encountered me the visit would not have gone so well. I could have hid myself from Slughorn, as I did from everyone here, and he would have seen only the mask.
"But if I cannot provide for the wishes of those that serve me," he added after a moment's pause, "then how powerful am I really? But I am content, I must say, to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts School, and to set my servants in high places, where they may be just as satisfied in themselves as I am in them."
"All weapons must be passed over before audience is granted with the Emperor, Headmaster Riddle."
"I know that," Riddle replied, handing over his wand. Harry did likewise.
They passed through several doors and many more charms before finally reaching the Emperor.
"Leave us," Riddle said to the attendant that had followed them through.
"But you—"
"Listen to what he says," the Emperor ordered.
Without further protest the attendant departed, closing the doors behind him.
The Emperor placed the palms of his hands together and rested them on the great desk in front of him. "Did you secure the Deathstick?"
"Regrettably no," Riddle lied as he and Harry took their seats. "But it was destroyed, which we perhaps may count in our favor."
A frown spread across the Emperor's face. "Then the tokens of Grindelwald's reign are no longer whole."
"Let us make hot chocolate as we discuss," Riddle suggested.
"Really now. I know you have a slight obsession, but the temperature is perfectly fine."
"It will relax us all. And I know that you appreciate a good cup as well."
"Very well." The Emperor took out his wand and gave it a few waves. Mugs and various ingredients appeared in front of them, which Riddle took in order to prepare their drinks.
"Nutmeg, a dash of ginseng, surprise me on the chocolate," the Emperor said. He smirked.
They talked as Riddle worked, and the focus of the conversation was quickly turned from Riddle to Harry. Out of the corner of his eye, though, as the Emperor was turned fully to Harry, he noticed Riddle discreetly scratch a blackening finger over one of the cups. It nearly stopped Harry in the middle of his talking, but the Emperor didn't seem to notice the hiccup.
Nothing unusual happened for most of the meeting. After the Emperor had been sufficiently consoled about the Elder Wand they moved on to more general war reports. Leviathan was preparing to counter-invade Behemoth, and disunity was growing in the states of Ziz. Other countries were still watching to see whether and where to throw their weight, but it would be always anyone's game until the last spell had been cast.
At the end, however, as he was shaking their hands and thanking them for coming, the Emperor did give a slight cough. Perhaps it had been nothing. But it did weigh on Harry's mind, and he brought it up to Riddle when they returned to Riddle's office.
"Did you do something to the Emperor? I saw you do something to your hand."
"Hot chocolate, Harry?"
"No thanks."
"Suit yourself."
"Did you poison him?"
Riddle stirred his hot chocolate for a little bit before he said anything. "Everyone thinks that the hot chocolate is special in some way. They think that I've done something to it. Truth serum, elixirs to bend them to their will, terrible poisons. Everyone except for the very young. That my room is intentionally cold only heightens their suspicion. But that isn't the truth at all, and they find that out as soon as they run through every diagnostic spell in their repertoire. But do you know where their undoing comes in?"
If this was the game that Riddle was going to play… Harry sighed. "Where?"
"They never suspect that the hot chocolate itself could have an effect." Riddle smiled and drank from his mug. "Chocolate has a chemical effect all on its own, and that is heightened when it is warming you. They feel better, happier, and it does not take much to get them to associate that with me if this suits my purposes. And the chocolate, as I told the Emperor, relaxes a mind and puts it at peace. This is why we use it to counteract dementors after all."
"So you didn't do anything." Riddle must have just been… itchy. And Harry was suspecting him of foul play because he still couldn't separate Riddle from Voldemort in his mind.
"Oh no, I poisoned him."
"This curse that was inflicted upon me," Riddle continued, "has turned out to be quite serendipitous. It embeds itself in the flesh— that is, it is not I that am cursed, but this blackening flesh, and the curse is merely spreading. And I had a true excuse for why I possessed it. But the biggest problem I suppose is that the Emperor's security was lax. They saw the curse. Perhaps they were less imaginative than I or simply didn't understand its nature. But ultimately they trust me, as the Emperor does, and all that they did in taking our wands was the bare minimum expected of them by protocol."
"So you're both going to die."
Riddle shook his head. "It seems curable, and if worst comes to worst then I shall simply divest myself of a limb. But the Emperor will not know what ails him, and it will be ensured that he is given the correct medical attention. By the time that symptoms appear it should be easy to give a misdiagnosis that looks correct to any to care to investigate."
"Why are you doing this?"
"For Harry's sake. She will inherit Grindelwald's throne, and she shall do it by ascending to the seat at Milan."
"But she isn't even in line for the throne. Or am I missing something?"
"You're clear enough right now. Do you remember Osvaldo Lazzara, the Duke-Governor?"
"Yes. I thought that he was the next in line. Are you planning on killing him too?"
Riddle laughed. "No. I need do nothing else at this point. Lazzara is a loyal man, honestly grateful to me for my aid and aware of what he owes me. He will make sure that the Emperor's death goes as planned and no one is the wiser. Afterward, he will… To be frank, he will be my puppet. But that is not his true use. Harry will surely be a Knight of Merlin, and she will grow in influence from there. She is already positioning herself perfectly for the right moment."
"To kill Lazzara herself?"
"Not at all. Others will do that. Lazzara is a loyal man, but he can barely handle his present position. I can make sure that the war goes smoothly and the country continues to function but he will dissatisfy many. At this very moment, the future coup is inevitable. It is written on the walls, even before Lazzara takes the throne. And when it happens, Harry will be the best and brightest choice for his replacement."
"And then you'll be the power behind Harry's throne."
"The dawn's mean wane," Riddle said. "The very last part of the prophecy. I have thought about that for a long time, wondering what it means. I am inclined to think that this means the world stands to get only better from here, so long as Harry sets it on the right course. I see no reason that I will not benefit from this. But must I be a miser that can only be satisfied when everyone else is not? Everyone wins when everyone is prosperous.
"But more," Riddle added, "this is the proof of my power. It is I that will accomplish the purposes of fate and be the architect of whatever age Harry may be a herald of. It is I that will set Harry at Milan. It is I who say 'Ask whatever it is that you want, and it will be given you.' And this is why I am strong, because I can, and I will, give anything to those that serve me."
"I see."
Riddle nodded. "There are ways in which I am not very far from your Voldemort, and some in which I am an entirely different shade of black. Let me ask you, if I may: Do you happen to know the name of the man that visited an orphanage many years ago, in order to introduce an eleven-year-old boy to the magical world?"
"Albus Dumbledore."
"I had thought so. But here, in my world, he was forced to attend to another task. It had come up without warning, so quickly, and I began to think, as I wondered how our histories had diverged, that this had been such an unlikely occurrence. Perhaps that was where we parted ways. And now I see that I am right, and I know for the first time exactly how important first impressions may be."
"Who went to visit you then?"
"Horace Slughorn. A gregarious man, a Slytherin like myself. And he saw something in me that day. It troubled him, but he looked within himself and he saw what could be done about it. He taught me that it is better to be loved than to be feared, and how much power I could wield thereby. I saw in Slughorn a model for myself, and when I most wanted to be vicious and sadistic, as I had been in my years before I took residence with Slughorn, I remembered the differences in power that were held by despots and by heroes. It was, really, those that were loved whose power was more secure. Perhaps if Dumbledore had encountered me the visit would not have gone so well. I could have hid myself from Slughorn, as I did from everyone here, and he would have seen only the mask.
"But if I cannot provide for the wishes of those that serve me," he added after a moment's pause, "then how powerful am I really? But I am content, I must say, to be the Headmaster of Hogwarts School, and to set my servants in high places, where they may be just as satisfied in themselves as I am in them."
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