#180 in Fanfiction || #1 in Hermione ||
In the language of literature, there exists a seemingly-concrete, antonymous relationship between good and evil, light and dark, hero and monster. And yet, we often disregard the transition from one to anothe...
Tom Marvolo Riddle had never been in a place of complete hopelessness before this very moment, always having Plans A through F, notions which are impalpable with the actions of Harry Potter. But then again, his preparable past was not like the present, where his enemy is literally himself and his other self enjoys an alliance with a massive snake that is obviously spoiled-rotten. Indeed, Tom Riddle has never been the meal of serpents, being one himself. So, as Nagini lunges at the three of them--Hermione, Ron, and Tom--he can only feel horror, not shock at what could be expected through time travel.
He cannot use magic, seeing as his own is nearly depleted from supporting the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
He cannot speak Parseltongue. The snake only listens to its master, and Tom does not want to have a philosophical debate about souls with a reptile now trying to eat him.
And yes, all this passes through his mind in the milliseconds of Nagini's lunge towards the temporary trio, tempting Tom to think he is slightly delirious with his magical exhaustion. But, in the end, he figures it is better than waiting for his death, now holding Hermione tighter into his chest and hearing her palpitations as the jaws of death now spread before them. Ron wraps his hand around the freed one of Hermione, gripping tight and together as they ought to travel into eternity, here and now with the snake.
But, Neville Longbottom is reluctant to part with the figures of such goodness and sacrifice, those three having been through so much in their time apart from Hogwarts. And with the sheer size of Nagini's head (not that it's the brain taking the space), Tom only sees the glint of the blade--silver and gold--before sword is plunged into muscle and the head of Nagini is removed, finally dead.
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It tumbles far and long for such a massive swipe of the sword, nose over neck and eye over eye, nearest the feet of Tom Riddle who just kicks it away, tired of snakes for the moment. And though he feels nothing of the connection, a sign he truly is not the Dark Lord, Voldemort collapses into a miserable and horrific scream, more than just for his lost pet but in his anger at these student heroes. But with every bit of Slytherin conviction, unchanged between his two forms, Voldemort sends a spell at Harry, not letting down his guard, especially given he is mortal.
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