Chapter Text
chapter 1. blue light
"Me and the devil walking side by side"
–Soap&Skin
London was a bleak city in the 20s.
Bleak and bustling. Grim and grandiose. All bundled up in one tight roaring society with its hedonistic lifestyle of jazz clubs and impoverished corners of cheap betting houses. On one rainy night, one could almost hear sophisticated jazz bands in fancy clubs and a lone saxophonist in the street at the same time. They could smell expensive champagne and cheap beer at once–all washed down from the bricks and asphalt like grime under their shoes. The shoes of the majority, that was–those who didn't have enough money to their name to wear pretty clothes that felt like heaven on their skin, or eat good meals that could last them a lifetime for never having to worry about things they had to put in their mouth on the morrow. Men who were either too young for war or too old to come back with an intact mind, women who worked at the factories with not enough pay for their families to survive…
It was miserable. This city was miserable. It was one of the reasons why Valerie Potter walked quickly despite an invisible charm that spared her from the rain. She was careful, oh so careful–head down, the collar of her coat straightened to hide her face from the onlookers. It was ridiculous to worry this much, she knew. But she had spent five years trying to survive the war–a lifetime if she wanted to be literal. There was no reason for her to lower her guard now, not with what she planned to do.
The tower of the Wool's Orphanage loomed out of the darkness, standing like a sore thumb amidst other two-stories buildings in the neighborhood. Proud and stubborn, just like its residence. A single lamp lightened the doorstep; the rest of the building made use of the moonlight. After all, it was almost midnight. It's not time for children to be out of their bed yet.
Unlocking the gate was easy; the front door was even easier. Under the dim light in the hallway, Valerie flicked her wrist until her fingers circled around the slender wood of the Elder Wand that slid down from the holster underneath her shirt sleeve. There was a buzz in the air as the wand bent to her will, obeying her command when she pointed it to the air above and whispered, "Bring me to Tom Riddle."
A blue light bursted from the legendary wand–its color reminded her too much of Ron's deluminator. Yet, as she followed the light, she tried not to think about Ron or Hermione. She tried not to think about their judgment, their opinions regarding her decision tonight. I'm doing this for them, she reminded herself. They will agree with me. They will.
They have to.
Her steps were sure as she climbed the stairs and turned into the corridor on her right. She walked to the door where the light floated in and moved through the thick wood. There was a second that felt like a lifetime when she stood unmoved in front of the door, a burden so heavy that threatened to suffocate her in the narrow corridor of the orphanage. Regrets and losts, anger and pain–all spiraled down to this decision that would make her as tainted as her enemies.
But where did one draw the moral line in war, really? When have they decided it was time for them to become as vicious as their enemies? Sometimes Valerie tried to remember the time when the only offensive acts they did were disarming and knocking out their opponents. But it was before; before Voldemort had won the Battle of Hogwarts and destroyed everything about humanity they have ever known of. Before he and his followers had swept through the Light's defenses and killed everyone who had stood against them. First, Hogwarts. Second, Britain. Third, the world. All in the span of five years–five long agonizing years filled with blood, sweat and tears. A lifetime of burning corpses and bloody hands, of rotten bodies and tormented life.
It had been so easy for Voldemort to make the British Magical Community bend their knees. Less than three months after the Battle of Hogwarts, the muggles had learned about their existence in a hard way–the Royal Family killed, the Parliament destroyed, and half of the populace was wiped out when an unknown mist had swept through Britain and killed whoever it wanted, leaving behind the trails of horrendous flesh and blood to be wept by the living. What remained of the military had declared war, and Britain had bled.
In the era of gadgets and tellies, the truth about the magical world was spread further: lies and truth, the good and bad side of magic–they didn't matter in the slightest. The flame was ignited, the fire was stroked in the name of violence and justice. Soon, every country had faced their own civil war. Soon, magic had fought against muggle machines: deathly curses against nuclear weapons. There was no hope for peace, not when the catastrophic war had taken over the earth–more so for every nuclear-armed state in the world that had to bomb their own cities.
Hoping for help from outside was no use. They were alone.
War was ugly. War was horrible. War was so terrifying that everytime you breathe you would wonder if that day you would ever see the sun again.
Out of the three of them, Hermione was the first to go. They had lost so many of their friends for the last year after Hogwarts that Valerie had woken up every day in fear, knowing that she could lose her bestfriends in any second.
It was a week before the full moon, and some members in their resistance group who had gotten attacked by werewolves needed wolfsbane to get through the full moon. Kind and smart Hermione, the brightest witch of their age Hermione, her best friend Hermione, had chosen to look for the ingredients alone. When a group of hunters led by Thorfinn Rowle had happened upon her, they had shown her no mercy.
Another part of Valerie had died that day.
She wasn't supposed to go alone. She wasn't supposed to get caught by the Death Eaters. She wasn't supposed to die first–her death made a spectacle and her body was hanged in the middle of Princes Street. Ron had turned mad in grief, and Valerie couldn't leave her bed for the next few days. But soon they had been forced to recover, and they had planned and strategized because there was a war they needed to win.
She had lost much in those five years. First, Hermione. More than half a year from then, Teddy and Andromeda. By the time Ron had died two years later, Valerie was numb.
It was why when she had finally killed Voldemort and become the Master of Death for winning the Elder Wand, she had made her decision. There was nothing left for her to live, there was nothing of the life post-war that could've been saved with the way everything was ruined. What was so worth-saving about that distophyc life? The life of misery; the earth dying and humanity rotting on the brink of extinction?
Thus, Valerie Potter had made her decision and turned the old time-turner she found at the ruin of Oxford, and here she was–London, March 5th in the year of 1927.
She took a deep breath, the faces of her loved ones flashed in her mind as she opened the door. The little room was dark, the only source of light was her blue light that now hovered above a crib in one side of the room. In total, there were four cribs, each filled with a baby who slept soundlessly. All except one, as she realized then.
Because there he was. Tom Marvolo Riddle, innocent eyes wide open as he looked up at her blue light. His face was almost doll-like, a tuft of dark hair barely hidden under an ugly bonnet. His little mouth was slightly open, eyes wouldn't stop staring at her blue light. Tiny nose scrunched, but there was no sound of distress heard. Little arms flapped out his blanket, legs moved under the thread-bare cloth excitedly.
He was just a baby. A 2 months old baby.
But this baby would kill her entire family and burn the world to ashes–all because of greed and evilness rotted inside him since he was little.
So what if he's a baby? Teddy was a baby too. Her godson was not even 20 months old, sweet and innocent, away from the war's front line. But it didn't matter for that traitor Zacharias Smith who had betrayed them and defected to the Dark side. It didn't matter for those Death Eaters when they had swarmed the safe house and butchered everyone in sight. No survivor, Charlie Weasley had said. I'm sorry, Harry. Valerie had screamed and screamed and screamed, crying her heart out. It had taken two people to stop her from scratching down her face with her own nails out of shock and grief.
Zacharias Smith's blood had felt so warm in her hands.
But Tom Riddle's blood didn't need to warm her hands, right? A simple Avada was all it took. He didn't need to feel pain–Valerie would grant him that much mercy. The green light of the killing curse would certainly excite him just as much as her own light did at the moment. Then he would feel nothing–embraced by death that would probably leave him on the heaven's doorstep. It's a good plan. Her friends would agree. Everyone would agree. Everyone would, Valerie was sure of it. They had to.
They had to.
Determined, Valerie lifted her wand–the death wand–and pointed it at her nemesis. Tongue heavy, mouth full of ashes, hand shook as her emerald eyes stared hard at his little form.
"You have to die," Valerie whispered under her breath. "There's no other way. I have to kill you."
Tom Riddle flicked his eyes to her then, as if he just realized that she was there. Because he's just a baby–a 2 months old baby with no sense of direction, who could only focus on people's faces if they placed themselves directly in front of him. His eyes caught her face, staring at her so intensely that whatever curse Valerie wished to utter died at her throat.
Then he cooed, sweet and innocent, just like Teddy was. He cooed, all angelic and pure. He cooed–hands flapping in hope of reaching her for the attention he craved. The vision struck Valerie so much that she lowered her wand and stumbled backwards. Her blue light disappeared, and the baby voiced his sudden distress.
Valerie turned on her heels and disapparated back to some back alley she first found herself in when she arrived in 1927, leaving behind a wailing baby in the dark room with only shadows for his true company.
She emptied her stomach next to a dirty dustbin. While she was filled with disgust of her actions, she sobbed. She cried for her parents that she longed for her entire life. She cried for Ron and Hermione. She cried for Sirius, Remus and Tonks. She cried for the Weasleys. She cried for Little Teddy and Andromeda. She cried for all her friends and fellow resistance members. She cried for everyone in her own time, including her own self.
But most of all, she cried for Tom Riddle. She cried for a baby with not enough love to warm him on most cold nights. She cried for an innocent being that would tear the world apart.
Valerie sat there, next to her own vomit, tears couldn't stop falling out of her eyes. The engraved side of the Elder Wand digged into her forearm as she hugged herself tight.
I am a monster, Valerie thought. I become him.