|| 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 || (𝒉.𝒋.𝒑 𝒙 𝒕.𝒎.𝒓)

Attera

Hi- after years and years! I figured that it was best I continue my story here before I reach the 200 chap limit ;-;

I've grown from the craziness of my 13 year old self when I first wrote this story- hopefully you're going to still enjoy my writing now :)

Also- I wanted to thank you all so much! 700k+ ? Never in my life did I ever think I'd get that much attention for my writing!

Also you might kill me for how the rest of the story may turn out  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Enjoy Fallen Angel II : Attero Atrum

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Previously on FA :

"I will not stand here and watch this! This union is wrong!"Dumbledore hissed. "Condalesco!*"he roared as the wand struck Tom.

With that, he grabbed Ron and Apparated away with the smirking redhead.

The jet of sickly yellow struck Tom, his irises turning a pitch black. It was as if the world had gone into slow motion as I saw Tom fall to the ground with an inhuman grace, blood foaming from his mouth as he released a high, gurgled scream.

"We need to get St Mungo's!" I yelled as Tom lay limp in my arms. I feared for both his and my unborn children's lives.

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7 hours later , Location : Riddle Manor - Lounge

Author POV

When Bellatrix finally walked into the quiet of the Manor, she looked anywhere but at a haggard looking Harry who still wore his wedding robes albeit they looked a little crumpled as he sat staring into the dying embers in the fireplace , unable to find a way to explain that everything he knew and was unconsciously expecting had irrevocably changed after what the Healer had told her.

"Er...well... you're allowed to visit now.."she informed him quietly, shifting awkwardly on her feet. "We'll take the Floo.."

Harry remained quiet , trying not to let his imagination run wild as he barely heard Bellatrix instruct him on what to say, dazedly standing up and grabbing some floo powder she offered to him.

"Bella..?" he shakily asked. His tone is low, distrusting, frightened. The woman who grew to be somewhat of an adoptive mother to him (not that he'd ever tell her that) reached out for his hand, clammy in her own nervousness as it finds his, squeezing in a way that's meant to be supportive, but only fuels his anxiety.

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He begins to visibly tremble when he could smell the crisp, sanitised air of a private waiting room in St Mungo's. "Please tell me what's going on...? Why are we here? What happened? Is Tom alright..? Bella, please..?"

His whispered appeal broke her heart and she cups his face, willing herself not to shed tears yet again, for Harry's sake.

"I'm sorry, Harry...I'm so sorry." The explanation sticks in her throat, allowing only platitudes to escape and leaving him with no choice but to fly out the room and into the rest of the hospital.

The receptionist looks shocked when she recognizes him and forgets her job for a moment when he asks for Tom's room number.

"Tomara...Riddle-Potter. Please, hurry. I need to see— her." When it's explained that patients aren't generally allowed visitors, Harry nearly begins foaming at the mouth, feeling as though he's losing his own mind.

He asks to speak to the Healer in charge, and before long, Mediwitches  ushered him into an office and poured a cup of tea, the light formalities only serving to anger him more.

"Why haven't I been taken to see my wife yet?" He barks at the Head Healer the moment the door is closed, wanting answers and wanting them immediately. The Healer Smethwyck takes a seat, his expression sympathetic.

"Lord Potter, I apologize that we weren't able to inform you sooner, but your ..wife, before taking a turn for the worse, made it explicitly clear that we were not to contact you. At this time, given that she can no longer make those sorts of decisions, her instructions fall back to you as her power of attorney." Smethwyck takes a deep breath, knowing that what he's about to say will break the man in front of him.

"Your wife had a late-term miscarriage...due to the effects of the Condalesco Curse. It was exceedingly traumatic for her, especially as the common procedure for dealing with these sorts of things is to induce and force labor. Your wife went through all of that trauma alone, by her own choice, as she was repeatedly asked if you were to be contacted. It took several hours for her to deliver your children, and holding the babies afterward put her in a severe downward spiral in terms of her mental health... I'm sorry to say, but as of late, she's been in a catatonic state, giving us minimal responses. At this stage, we're simply providing palliative care to your wife. Unfortunately, many in her condition never recover, so we're trying to do our best to keep her comfortable, healthy, and calm, My Lord."

At the end of the last sentence, Harry kept his mouth pressed firmly closed in order not to scream. Blowing air through his nose, he forces himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds, chest heaving as he fights for control. If he can't keep it together, he can't see Tom at the very least and that's all that matters to him at this point.

"May..May I see her?" His voice sounds wrong to him, pinched and tiny. He knows he has tears in his eyes as the Healer appears blurry, but he refuses to let them fall, his need to be strong for Tom taking over any allowance for grieving.

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"I've been told she's not having a pleasant day today, so if she refuses to look at you, to let you touch her, to make any form of response, please do not think it your doing. It's the nature of her condition," Bellatrix warned gently as they approached Tom's room in one of the Private wards.

It's all Harry can do not to break down right there and then, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes, teeth clenched as he tries to remember how to breathe. The person in the bed, staring passively through him isn't the person he loves, the one he would die for. That person is gone, replaced with a cheap, emotionless shell that breaks him even more.

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Finally freed of any need to save face or be strong for others in the safety of his room, Harry screamed from the depths of his shattered soul, the sound unbroken until anguish consumes his voice and tears flood his face. Finding his feet, he staggered to the bed and curled up around the remnants of his previous life, inhaling Tom's sweet scent from their pillow, wailing over the permanent reminder of what almost was.

Resting his hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath, wishing he'd managed to protect Tom like he'd promised...perhaps it would have been better if he had taken the curse for him instead..?

Goddamn Dumbledore. He'd really gone terribly far this time. Harry wouldn't have murdered him for stealing from him... but hurting his mate? Being responsible for the death of his children..?

Dumbledore needed to die. Any person who supported him would die as well.

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BEGINNING OF BOOK TWO

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A/N: Also, I've decided to make Tom/Tomara nonbinary (androgynous or gender fluid) because honestly it's easier to conform to the idea of why Tom didn't really mind the whole cross dress thing in the first book. besides , I doubt that canon Voldemort would really care gender. Taking over the Magical Britain is the main point here?? I swear I'm on to something. Just enjoy my little headcannon.