Born Into Strife

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But the last couple of months saw Tom becoming distant again, opting out of their daily storytime sessions and cutting conversations short. He obviously had something on his mind, which he was neglecting to tell Harry about...and as much as Harry trusted Tom, the whole thing made him uneasy.

"I do have a present for you, Harry."

Harry glanced at him, surprised. "Err...you didn't like, possess me in my sleep and steal something, did you?"

"And why would I waste my magic on something like that?"

"Because you value my happiness?"

An eyebrow twitched. "No."

Harry pouted, but Tom continued to ignore him, "What I want to give you cannot be bought or stolen. It's something I've never deigned anyone else worthy of."

"Uh...wow. What is it?"

"The truth."

Harry blinked. "Ok...that sounds...brilliant. So, what did you want to tell me?"

"We will speak of it tomorrow."

"Why not now?"

"I would not want to ruin your birthday for you."

Harry frowned. "You won't ruin my birthday."

"Oh? And how would you know that?"

"C'mon Tom! I wanna know now."

Tom looked entirely unimpressed.

:Pretty, pretty please?: Harry added sweetly, in parseltongue, for good measure.

In the mirror, Tom rolled his eyes. :You are a nasty, manipulative child. I hope you know that.:

:If I am, it's entirely your fault.:

Predictably, Tom sighed in resignation. "Very well."

Harry grinned.

"Do no't look so pleased with yourself; I can change my mind, if I so wish it."

Harry did his best to straighten his face.

"Now...before I give you the truth...I must tell you a story."

Harry's eyes brightened. "What kind of story?" he asked eagerly.

"A story about a wizard, a witch, and a man named Lord Voldemort."

Harry coughed out a laugh. "Lord who? Voldymort? What kind of name is that?"

As soon as he asked, his scar began to burn, causing him to wince. "Lord Voldemort, Harry."

"Fine, Voldemort. What kind of name is that?"

"A name so feared that thousands of witches and wizards will not say it aloud. They called him 'He Who Must Not Be Named'."

Harry's eyes widened and he sat up straight. "He Who Must Not Be Named? Why? Why were they so afraid of him?"

"Because, Harry, Lord Voldemort was the most powerful wizard to ever walk the earth, and was the darkest of all dark wizards, well versed in the blackest of black magics. He was the Dark Lord."

Harry stared at him in awe, transfixed. "The Dark Lord? A real Dark Lord? He was real?"

Tom nodded gravely. "Yes, the Dark Lord Voldemort was as real as you and I."

"And he was really powerful?"

"He was."

"So if he was a dark lord...did he hurt people? Is that why they were so afraid of him?"

"Indeed it is, Harry. Lord Voldemort brought suffering to many, and through his cruelty and power, inspired fear in thousands."

Harry frowned. "Why?"

"You see, Harry...the Dark Lord Voldemort waged war on the wizarding world."

"War? Against wizards? Why would wizards and witches fight other wizards and witches?"

Tom sighed. "It was...a complex matter. There are those who believe one's magical lineage is of the utmost importance, while there are those who discount it all together. The issue of blood purity is one of great importance to wizards, Harry, and it is a conflict steeped in ancient tradition, prejudice, money, power, and corruption. Of this conflict was born a civil war, fostered by Lord Voldemort and his followers."

"And Lord Voldemort..."

"Fought against the Ministry of Magic, and allied himself with the old families of the wizarding world, the families who value blood purity and who preserve the art of dark magic."

"So...he was a racist snob."

Another shot of pain pierced Harry's forehead.

"Withhold your judgments for now, Harry, and listen to the rest of the story."

"Yes, Tom."

"Now, there were many who opposed Lord Voldemort, for varying reasons – some because they had no respect for the purity of wizarding blood, others because they refused to acknowledge the superiority of wizardkind over muggles, and still others because they opposed the use of dark magic -"

"Um, Tom? What is dark magic?"

"Another story for another time."

Harry pursed his lips. "Fine."

"Now, among those who opposed Lord Voldermort were a man and a woman, a wizard and witch barely out of Hogwarts. They...loved each other very much, just as they loved their child."

"They had a kid?"

"Yes, the wizard and witch were man and wife, and together had a son, born into the strife and horror of civil war."

"And what happened to them?"

"They died," Tom said, simply. "And that is what this story is about - their deaths."

Harry looked at him, puzzled. Why was Tom telling him a story of the death of this family for his birthday?

"It so happened that on one night, a servant of the Dark Lord overheard something strange – the words of a seer; the words of a prophecy."

"A prophecy?"

"Yes, a prophecy that foretold the coming of a child with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord."

Harry's wide eyes grew even wider as excitement stirred in his chest. "So what happened next?"

"When the Dark Lord heard of this prophecy, he was furious, and became determined to kill the child before he grew strong enough to fight."

"He wanted to kill a kid? That's terrible..."

Tom stared at him a moment, an unreadable look marring his face. "...indeed. Now, the prophecy claimed that this child would be born of those who had thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies."

"And...the witch and wizard...had they defied Lord Voldemort three times?"

"Yes, and their child, a son, was born as the seventh month died. So Lord Voldemort bestowed upon this child the honour of being hunted by the Dark Lord himself."

"Some honour."

"More than you know, Harry."

"Then what happened? To the witch and wizard? And their son?"

"They learned of Lord Voldemort's plans, and went into hiding. But one of their closest friends, one of the few that knew of their location, betrayed them to the Dark Lord."