To Revive a Soul || Tom Riddle

33. Humanity

Tom's eyes blinked harshly as they tried to adjust to the light in the hospital wing. His muscles ached, his head spun, and his body felt heavy. So unbelievably heavy.

But beneath it, there was light. Weightlessness.

Tom had felt it the moment he awoke, that feeling of being whole again. It took him back to before any of this had begun, when he was angry and resentful and hurting. That wholesome feeling was back, but there was no pain. Not anymore. He only felt fresh, rejuvenated, as if he has just risen from a long, peaceful nap.

He turned his head to the side and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Dumbledore sitting at his bedside.

This was his doing. He was the one who had told Eleanor about the spell, about what it would cost her. She only followed through with it because she cared too much. "Where is she?" Tom croaked, voice quiet. "Where the hell is she?"

Dumbledore smiled with forlorn. "She's dead, Tom, You've killed her." It was like a punch in the gut, Dumbledore's words, and Tom found himself trying to scramble out of his bed, arms outstretched as if he were about to strangle the man. "Sit down, Tom."

"Like hell."

"I am not here to berate you over your actions," Dumbledore continued softly, using a single finger to shove the boy back into the mattress. "I would like to inform you of some things, now that your soul is whole again." He was too calm, Tom found, after everything he'd done. And it made anger rise to the brim within him, ready to overflow. "Calm down."

"She's dead because of your goddamned plan, Dumbledore," Tom spat, making him frown. "You pretend to care about me. You've created such a great ploy that you'd be willing to kill El to keep up the ruse. Well, it isn't funny anymore!"

"Eleanor's actions were her own, Mr. Riddle. I cannot take responsibility for them. Now, if you'd care to listen for a few minutes, I'd like to inform you of some happenings."

Tom was fuming, nearly panting from the energy he'd spent trying to get out of bed, but he didn't protest. "Just get it out."

Dumbledore took a breath. "When Eleanor approached me with concern for you, it was she who initially asked me if there was any way to reverse your actions. I was... apprehensive in telling her, to say the least, but she insisted. Do you have any idea why she jumped at the opportunity? Why she would do something like that, even though she knew that spell was risky, untested, and lethal?" he asked, leaning back in his chair and looking sideways at Tom. "Do you know why she was ready to do what she did?"

Tom scoffed. "If you're going to preach about the power of love and friendship, save it, Albus. I've had enough of that in my seven years at this school," he answered, stare fixed pointedly at the dull beige sheets that draped over his legs, and Dumbledore sighed.

"When I was young... well, surely you don't care about my childhood, but—"

"I don't."

"You're going to hear about it anyway," Dumbledore replied, making the boy roll his eyes. "When I was young, Grindelwald and I were close friends. He had chosen his cause from a very young age, and I had chosen mine. And, though our causes were similar, naturally, they'd... clash. So to prevent ourselves from quite literally destroying one another in our joint quest for greatness, we made a blood pact. No fighting. We'd leave one another well enough alone."

Tom chuckled. "Look where that got you. You've broken it."

"I broke it a long time ago, I'm afraid. I realized when my brother confronted me that aligning with Grindelwald was dangerous. It was not the right path for me. But that made Gellert furious, and he attacked my brother for trying to brainwash me. I defended him. That duel broke the pact. We hadn't even been your age yet. Still mere students at Hogwarts."