Harry Riddle || Harry potter

Chapter 36: Portrait Of A Mother

"He's healing up quite nicely, milord."

"I don't care how he's healing up," hissed Voldemort, his red eyes flashing.

Severus Snape flinched, though he supposed he should've been expecting such an outburst all along. Voldemort never reacted well to bad news, and had, on occasion, been known to torture the messenger.

However, that didn't seem to be the case this time, as instead of drawing his wand or doing anything equally as threatening, Voldemort took a large swig of brandy from the snifter in his hand and paced back and forth in front of the fire, which crackled in the marble hearth.

"And the Stone was destroyed?" he demanded, digging his nails into the glass.

"I'm afraid so. It seems as though Lily Evans's sacrifice all those years ago had more of an effect than anyone might've thought. When Harry touched Quirrell, or visa versa, Quirrell's skin turned to ash. He eventually . . . burned away."

"Blood protection?" said Riddle incredulously. "When I killed the mudblood it triggered blood protection, of all things?"

"It seems as though she intensely did not want you to have your son, milord."

"Why have I never noticed it before?"

Severus sighed. "Well, you've never harmed him, not physically, or with a spell. That's what it protects against."

"So, when Grindelwald-" Riddle paused, shook his head in disbelief, and took another drink. "-Grindelwald attempted to kill Harry to get the Stone, he was killed himself. And the Stone was destroyed as a result." He gave a long suffering sigh and emptied his glass.

There came an angry noise from one of the portraits on the wall, which was followed by a piercing voice. "Is that all you can think about, Tom? The Stone?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes and ground his teeth. "Do you have something to say, Mother?"

Merope Gaunt's unattractive face contorted angrily. "Well, Tom, Harry is your son. Perhaps you should be more concerned about him than a magical Stone."

"You heard Severus," he bit out. "He'll recover."

"He was almost killed by a Dark Lord!" She paused. "Who was supposedly long dead, but I do believe that is beside the point. What is the point is that, while the quest for immortality and the complete domination of the wizarding world is a perfectly fine endeavor, Harry should come first."

"Do shut up, Mother. Why don't you go and visit Salazar Slytherin's portrait? He likes you."

"I hardly like him."

"You're his thirty two times great granddaughter, you should like him. And where did you learn all of these large words I hear you using? When I first put you up on that wall you could barely use your verbs in the correct tenses."

"I've been listening to you for almost fifteen years. I could practically write a novel by now. And don't insult my upbringings, boy!"

"Do you want me to set you on fire?" Tom demanded, pulling his wand out of his robes and waving it at her threateningly.

Merope jerked back and crossed her skinny arms over her upper body, which was clothed in a Slytherin green dress. Severus, however, got the impression that Mrs. Riddle had never worn anything that nice in life, and that the painter had taken some artistic license.

Flipping her lank hair over her shoulder, Merope huffed as only a teenage girl could and exited the portrait without a further word.

Voldemort slowly put his wand away and sunk into the nearest chair. "Why did I ever have a portrait of her made?" Shaking his head, he sighed. "The Stone is gone. It's a disappointment, but even that is infinitely better than having Grindelwald get his hands on it. Then we might've been facing a war with not only Dumbledore, but with another Dark Lord. I suppose I'll have to thank Harry."

Severus shrugged. "Well, he did put himself in needless danger, and I'm surprised that Slytherin isn't in negative points as a result. If Poppy Pomfrey hadn't forced her to leave, I think McGonagall would've given him a talking down while he was barely conscious."

Voldemort grimaced. "Minerva McGonagall. It doesn't seem as though she's changed any since 1943. She loved to patrol the halls in the middle of the night once she became a prefect. I don't think she slept. They used to call her 'Minnie', you know." He unconsciously pressed his tongue into his eyetooth for a moment before continuing. "Well, it seems as though my plans will have to change. Now that the Stone is gone, it is no longer a factor." He paused and glanced at Severus. "The horcrux?"

Almost reverently, Snape reached into his robe and withdrew the pendant by its chain. He gently dropped it into Voldemort's palm.

"Grindelwald's Pendant," he said appreciatively, turning it over in his hands. "I've read about it. It's Czechoslovakian in origin, isn't it? Created in the early 1900s? By a witch doctor? Or was it a gypsy? Nevertheless, how did Harry end up with it?"

"He never said. You-you do know how to destroy it, milord, don't you?"

"Of course," he snapped, his teeth clanking.

Snape resisted cringing. Recent events had seemingly taken some of his better senses, such as the one that reminded him to never question Voldemort.

"Its quite difficult, but possible," the Dark Lord continued, his voice calmer. He frowned. "It's a shame. I wouldn't have minded owning this. But, Grindelwald must be destroyed. Right now he's probably floating about in some alleyway feeling sorry for himself, but it won't be long before he starts plotting again."

Severus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Milord . . ." he began hesitantly, "I know that what you say is true, but it makes me worry . . ."

"Worry?" he repeated, his scarlet eyes boring into Severus's.

Severus shifted again. "What if . . ." He paused, and Voldemort looked down at the Pendant.

Lord Voldemort continued: "What if this isn't Grindelwald's only horcrux?"