Chapter Sixty-Five

                                    

                                          
	No. 
                          
	Avalon's heart felt as though it stopped beating when Tom shoved himself out of the crowd and stood before the Dark Lord and his followers. She tried to run after him, but felt a strong pair of arms grab her from behind. "Avalon, don't," frantically whispered Fred, holding her against his chest tightly as she struggled to free herself from his unrelenting hold. He kept quietly telling her to stay put despite her violent thrashing, but her protests didn't die down until it was too late-- Tom was already standing in the center of the Courtyard. 
                          
	All eyes suddenly found themselves watching the dark-haired boy defiantly stand before the Dark Lord and his followers, not a semblance of fear in his brown eyes. 
                          
	Even though he was only mere feet away, she had never been further from Tom. He seemed worlds away, and she felt utterly useless as she watched the Dark Lord's gaze follow Tom as he stood before him and his bemused army. 
                          
Voldemort's eyes flashed with a sinister excitement, his thin lips twisting into a delighted grin. Hushed murmurs were uttered around Avalon, though she couldn't hear a word they were saying-- her fear was deafening. 
                          
	Hagrid dawned a mixture of confusion and worry at the sight of his old classmate. "Tom...?" he quietly breathed out, his eyes wide and frantic. Tom couldn't look at him, though. Nor could he look at Avalon. All he could do was look at the dark sorcerer across from him-- the horrific reminder of the dire future that he had been diverted away from pursuing.
                          
"So the day has come when we finally meet face to face," said Voldemort, his cold voice cutting through the air like a sharpened blade. Nobody dared speak as he looked at Tom, a mixture of pride and gloat in his twisted smile. "I always knew that you'd be enticed to return when you saw the power that I have achieved. Have you yet come to regret standing with the losing side?"
                          
"Now more than ever, I know that I have chosen the right side," replied Tom calmly, watching as the Dark Lord's grin momentarily faltered. Though, Voldemort quickly hid his disappointment behind a cold glare, looking down at the Elder Wand in his grasp as he looked at his former self. 
                          
"So what's been told to me is true-- you threw away your potential for..." his crimson eyes trailed over to Avalon, his smile returning to his lips. "... nothing. Perhaps, one day, you would have come to realize your fatal mistake. What a shame you won't live past today." 
                          
"Do not tempt the killer in me," replied Tom, twirling his wand in his hands. "You forget that we were born of the same darkness. I am everything you could have become had you not been consumed by your obsession with immortality. How disappointing that you lost yourself to that fear."
                          
Voldemort paused for a moment before looking to his followers and bursting into an empty laughter, their amusement echoing behind him until his voice silenced them all once more with his chilling tone. "You mistake your weakness for courage." 
                          
"And you mistake your pride for power," retorted Tom, refusing to back down from the sorcerer's cold stare. He did not fear the wizard in front of him. He knew, better than anyone else, that Voldemort was born of weaknesses. And he would not allow himself to crumble before a wizard who lost himself to his own fragility. "I pity your delusion. You have been blinded by your own lies, forgetting who you truly are," he spat out, smirking to himself when he saw the way Voldemort's face contorted into a look of pure distaste. "Just a boy who never knew a mother's love. Destroyed by loneliness because you were cast aside by your pureblood relatives-- Heir of Slytherin though only in secret. Always running from death because you knew, deep down, that nobody would mourn you. Plagued by feelings of inadequacy because even your muggle father didn't want-"
                          
"ENOUGH!" shouted the enraged Dark Lord, pointing the Elder Wand at Tom and casting a bright flash of red in his direction. The Cruciatus Curse narrowly missed colliding with Tom as he slashed his wand to the side, diverting the spell just in time to send it crashing it into a pillar.