Pairing: Tom Riddle (pre-Voldemort) x Original Female Character (Alhena)
Language: English
Rating: M / +18 (eventually)
Status: Ongoing
Genre: Romance, Suspense, Time Travel, Dark Magic, Drama, Slow Burn, Smut
Timeline: Canon Divergence ā Year 5 (Harry Potter) / Tom Riddle adult era (1950s)
Tags: time Travel, enemies to Lovers, Obsessive Tom Riddle, latin Witch OC, ancient Magic, mind Magic, Forbidden Love, Mental Bond, Dark Romance, Slow Burn , Angst, Dream Manipulation, Magical Rituals, Found Family, Voldemort Redemption Arc.
šŖ Synopsis:
Alhena is no ordinary witch. Born of an ancient Latin bloodline steeped in ancestral rites and mental sorcery, she needs no wand to manipulate reality. At 25, sheās a renowned magical investigator, recruited to fight in the shadows of the war against Voldemort.
But when a mission involving time magic fractures space itself, Alhena is cast into the pastāinto the orbit of a man sheās sworn to hate.
Tom Riddle, 28. Brilliant. Seductive. Dangerous. A man on the edge of becoming the monster history remembers.
Alhena hides the truth of who she is, and Tom can sense it.
She despises everything he stands for.
But Tom is intrigued.
Drawn to her.
Obsessed.
He invades her dreams.
He plants thoughts in her mind that arenāt hers.
He doesnāt know loveābut something in him begins to crave her presence in ways he canāt explain.
Their connection is dark, magnetic, and forbidden.
And when Alhena discovers that her presence in the past might be the key to changing the futureā¦
She faces an impossible choice.
Stay and save the world by loving the man destined to ruin itā
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Limping, Hilda almost collided into Adele, who tried to maintain the queen's balance through her slender hands. The scent of fresh grass tickled Adele's nostrils, while at the same time brought upon a sudden bite of nostalgia, one which hit her with a force she tried to repress.
"Have you ventured far from the south?" Hilda gruffed, stabbing her cane onto the dirt.
"Not until I married Benoit, no," she replied, staring at her own fragile hands. "I always dreamed of being a wanderer of sorts, to traverse across the mountains and see what the world has to offer."
Hilda snickered. The woman has been by her side for several months, talking and sharing her secrets. At the same time, that wayward look in her honeyed eyes never ventured; instead, they glimmered when they contacted anything new, like a moth towards a flame. And yet, she still hesitated when talking about Evelene--a place with as much harshness in their teeth as the sweetness in their words.
"Anyways, we're here," she muttered, before knocking on the door.
"What will you show me?" Adele asked, expecting the queen to show her darkest secrets or a corpse of the previous dynasty. She wrapped herself in the dress, shrinking from the wide door, decorated with tiny flowers against dark blue metal.
A few seconds later, it opened, though Adele heard a hinny before she spotted the horse. Despite its majesty, it shook its head as Hilda approached it, nuzzling its jaw on her withered hand.
"Is it yours?" Widening her eyes, Adele approached forward to spot the horse's eyes, only for Hilda to raise her other hand. Nevertheless, the woman's toes jostled with a nervous energy, a potential wish fulfilled at this very moment.
"This is Hjordis, my beloved mare," Hilda replied, shuffling through the barn before handing her a handful of grain. Hesitating, the horse nibbled on a little bit before biting off the food, shaking itself off after every bit. Adele giggled after every bite, then tiled her head to one side in a curious slight.
"She looks very beautiful. Do you ride her often?"
"I wish, but my illness and the war doesn't allow me to." A tingling hit Hilda's hand; before she could reflect on her loss, she crumbled against the hay pile. Panicking, Adele threw herself down and laid the woman down, staring down at her panicked countenance and her widening eyes.
"What did Hjordis make you think about? What?" Adele screamed, before clenching onto Hilda's hands. If she can stop the queen from hurting anybody, then she could bring this demon onto bay.
"Ah...Ah..." Unable to speak, Hilda only shrieked in an abnormally low tone. Panicked, Adele pondered on she could cure her.
She started singing, and faced Hjordis' elegant gaze, facing the world in front of her.
A short story in a hero AU universe. A hero trying to save a hunted mind mage. Injury, mind magic, mind sharing, sharing pain
"Take the pain away."
He was breathing hard, his body weighting him down. His broken ribs were giving him hot flashes of pain, but the stab in his side was paralyzing to move with. He wanted to wringle in a ball on the floor everytime he made a move.
He was no stranger to pain. Pain was good, it was fine, a constant in his life to keep him alert and active. But this was not the kind of pain he could win a fight with.
The little mind mage shook her head, her hands trembling above his side wound.
"Do it. I have seen you do it!"
"Yes! When someone was being healed or waited for help, after a battle, not during one!" She run her hands through her hair, smearing blood in her trail. "Don't you understand, I'm not a healer? I can't take the injury away, just your awareness of it. Pain helps you recognize your limits, back out, not move something that shouldn't be moved. You can get a mortal injury that way and not notice!"
He gritted his teeth and turned away. "I can win this fight. I almost got him. Just one more minute."
"Your body has had enough. It's your own fault for fighting so recklessly. Getting injured on purpose, impaled, just to get a good hit? That's insane."
"It has been working so far."
She looked at him in horror. Not helping his case, he guessed.
"No. We need supplies, cover, shelter and a way to take care of those injuries in a proper way."
He huffed. "Now of all times, you decide to stand up for yourself."
She smiled then.
The shy small frail little thing. The girl everyone was after for a power that couldn't even be seen. A mind power. Whatever fights she won, he could never witness, no consequences, no proofs. Just people blacked out or screaming on the ground.
"Fine. There is a hideout nearby we can use." Just a few more jumps with his explosive power. He could take her there at least.
"Worst case scenario, you can always hide or run. They want me, not you."
"Out of the question."
"You don't even know me!"
"So what? I'm not doing it for you. I have never lost a battle before and I. Don't. Run."
She raised her eyebrows. "Pride is a stupid thing to die over."
"Pche. Dying when you don't have to is too."
She had no argument to that. Her arms were shaking. Scared out of her mind, yet here she was offering to stay behind. Trying to save him, as if he could ever accept such a thing.
---
They spend the night at the hideout, sowing up his wounds and arguing what to do next. He wanted to fight either way, no matter his chances, but after some insistence from him, she admitted there was a way to have his mind shielded without having to carry her around for physical contact. Contacless telepathic connection was possible, if she went through his mind, his deepest memories and became intimately close to him.
It was for a mission. For a fight with a villian he needed to win. He couldn't fight at his full power to not endanger the village nearby, and he couldn't manoeuvre, having to carry her around as a mental shield.
He agreed.
---
The connection was working.
He could feel her inside his mind, a presence, a web of thoughts and feelings not his own.
The fight worked. His injuries weren't healed, but they weren't open or leaking blood and he had a few hours of sleep, recovering his fire power.
She was safe inside the hideout, not only shielding his mind from enemy attacks, but also sharing her own view of the battle, giving him extra angles and insights about it.
It worked great. It cost him a lot.
---
She went through his memories and it was like seeing his life from beginning and end. At such speed and intensity he felt like he was dying and these were his last moments.
She saw the hero that inspired him to choose his career. She saw his best friends he later bullied, for he wasn't good enough for him. She saw him fight with said friend, after they got to the same school, after they have been rivals for long enough, that they couldn't be friends anymore.
She saw deep inside him, where the self-doubt creaked and sneaked like a thief, the silent traitor.
She saw the tears he spilled, the worries he held, the insecurity at the core of his bravado and loud insufferable attitude.
Shamefully, he stood up abruptly, hot and sweaty, his heart beating. For a moment he couldn't bear to see more, couldn't bear someone, even a girl he didn't know, see it too.
She looked at him with bleeding apologetic eyes and waited. He took 10 long slow breaths. Then he sat back again and held out his hands, ready to continue, although his heart was hammering and every cell in his body screamed at him to run.
The memories he saw next weren't his own. Without prompting or a deal, she showed him her own memories.
"Is that necessary for the ehm...link to work?" He asked as he scrolled through her childhood. The illusions, the imaginary friends. The insults and accusation of insanity. The lonely afternoons on dirty streets.
"It's not. But I thought it might help you feel better."
It felt like a breach, like stepping over an invisible line he avoided with everyone, but he watched. He watched the strange silent girl with hateful eyes dodge a criminal future by a hair by being accepted to a good school. He watched the hate, the arrogance, the disgust at others, for their slow minds, lack of imagination, no way to keep up.
And then he saw the self-hatred, the desire to be liked, the wish to be better. So she locked that girl inside, constructing a new identity, a shy different her.
Small. Sweet. Defenceless. It was all an armor, just like his own.
He had never felt so close to someone before.
---
The fight was over. Yet here they stood, two people who had seen under each other's veils and there was no going back.
How could he ever leave her now, having seen what he saw, having been seen?
Before the awkward silence could take over, the ground exploded at his feet.
---
He was running again, mind mage in his arms. Another villian was after them, one with no injuries and restless night to slow him down. And with power too alike his own.
He didn't know how to take another round. But he would do it. He would stand and face this challenge anyway. Die or get stronger.
The girl put a hand on his bare shoulder. He forgot she was still in his mind. How could he have forgotten that?
I will take your pain this time.
He blinked. Really?
Yes. I will take it on myself. So whatever injury you sustain, I will feel it.
What?! No way!
He couldn't allow that. Recklessness was his strategy in fighting. Pain was a friend, a companion, as natural as breathing. He was always in pain and that was fine, because that meant he wasn't standing still. He was alive, kicking and screaming, getting stronger.
His fighting style reflected that. Heck, his lifestyle reflected that. Enemies didn't expect him to get injured on purpose, to do such risky moves.
But he would never inflict that on someone else.
Is that your plan? To force me to fight carefully?
She smiled. He wanted to scream. But there was no other way.
---
He felt every sigh, every groan, every wince and every scream like a hit. He had never moved with such caution, he had never calculated so carefully. He had never tried so hard and never kept such distance.
With the pain and tiredness gone, the fight was easy. It brought him no joy though.
He got down to her, curled up by a tree, sweaty face, expression drawn, teeth gritted together. Took her in his arms and cradled her in his lap.
"Give it back."
She smiled again, and he could feel the echoes of her pain, of his pain in their connection.
"You like being strong. You even like the pain, carry it around like a medal. But you don't want to collapse, you don't want to admit to it, you don't want to wringle in pain like me. Do you really want it back?"
"Couldn't you have erased it, without taking it on yourself?" He asked, running his hands through her hair now, gently caressing her face.
"Yes. But then you wouldn't have been careful."
He touched his forehead to hers. A tear rolled down his cheek.
"And I wanted to contribute to this. You were risking too much, fighting for me," she said.
It was totally different not fighting just for himself. For his own win, for his reputation, for the raising number of completed missions.
She put a hand on his cheek. "I will not give it back, until your wounds are treated. You wouldn't handle this well. You don't want me to see you like this."
It was true and he hated it. Fine then, he would take himself to the hospital. As quickly as he could. No hiding, no pretending.
Storyline: Zinjiq. Part 1- The Ten-Year War
Main OCs: Rahim and Sajia
~~~
He doesnāt remember thisā¦
His eyes cast about wildly in the fog-filled landscape, treading cautiously over the ground. Thereās somethingā¦ off about this place. It certainly feels like a memory instead of something he is actually living. But if this is one of his own memories shouldnāt he remember it?
Another cautious step forward, head slowly turning side to side. This is all wrong. He doesnāt know why heās here, or how he got here, or even where here is. Itās deathly silent, only serving to further his discomfort. Thereās a strange sensation, like a fly crawling on his face or a loose strand of hair that is in just the right spot to be an irritant. But when he reaches up to sweep it away, his hand simply brushes across his skin. He starts to reach for his swords, but for some reason heās unarmed.
āHello?ā His words even sound far away, muffled and distant even though theyāre coming from his own mouth. āIs there anyone out there? Where the hell am I?ā
For a moment, that same silence settles heavy over the foreign land. And then itās broken by a piercing scream.
Sajia.
āSAJIA!ā Heās sprinting towards the sound before he can even process what is happening. Sheās in trouble, sheās hurt, sheās-
āRahim, help!ā
No.
āIām coming!ā Heās weaving through tall city walls, panting in his desperation to get to her. He doesnāt know how he ended up in a city, but he doesnāt care. She needs him, his beloved, he would sacrifice the world to save her. His eyes are burning as he fights back tears, terrified that heāll be too late.
He bursts out from behind a tall wall, back into the fog-covered landscape that was empty a few moments prior. Something tries to tell him that this is wrong, but then he sees her. Kneeling on the ground in front of a soldier. Her blue eyes meet his. Theyāre wide and scared, filled with pain. Thereās blood on the ground around her.
āRahim, please! Help-ā
Her plea is cut off as the soldier plunges a dagger into her heart.
āNO!ā
Time seems to stop as he staggers forward, moving far too slow. Or maybe he was just that far away. It takes too long to get to her side, and by then itās too late.
āSajia-ā His voice is scarcely more than a whisper. He gently cradles her body towards him, running his hand along her face. āBeloved, please-ā Heās seen enough death to know that there is no longer life left in her body. And something inside of him shatters.
Rahim can feel his entire world crashing down around him. She canāt just be gone- not like this. Not so brutally, not so quickly. Sheās too kind, sheās too wonderfulā¦ He pulls her closer, rocking her slowly in his arms. His eyes close and he buries his face in her hair, letting the tears flow freely. Itās not supposed to be her, she isnāt supposed to die from this war. A sob escapes, his shoulders shaking-
And laughter rings in his ears.
Laughter at his pain. At his grief.
His head snaps up, raw anger mixing with his grief, and suddenly heās not there.
The walls are cold, black stone around him. The foreign landscape is gone in the blink of an eye, and so is the still-warm body he was clutching tightly in his arms. Thereās a biting cold around his wrists and a flicker of torchlight in the corner of the room- No, the cell. The guards are laughing. The soldiers are laughing.
It wasnāt real.
The tears are still flowing down his face, even as he slowly raises his head to look into the eyes of the man that forced this memory on him- the one torturing him. His eyes narrow in defiance as he tries to forget about the not-memory, even though the desperate cries for help and that pain-filled scream will haunt his dreams. Fingertips are still pressed against his temples, ready to plunge him back into another horror story at any moment.
The Teyshirian soldier studies him. āI didnāt know it was going to be quite thatā¦ effective.ā His lips quirk up into a smile. āWanna try again?ā
āStop it.ā Rahim snaps instantly, in the same tone as a command that one in Khurzan would be a fool to ignore. He tries to pull away, but his arms are restrained tightly and he barely has any room to move. That stupid smile turns into a smirk, and Rahim yanks on the chains, wishing he could lunge and rip out the manās throat. His anger is fueled by how easily they managed to hurt him by a simple imageā¦ A false memory.Ā
But even then, thereās a stab of terror that maybe the memory is real to the person sharing itā¦ What if sheās been killed during his time as a prisoner?
āWill you fuckin stop it.ā He repeats, voice practically a snarl. āJust stop, you sick son of a-ā
āI donāt think so.ā
Before he can say another word in protest, heās back in the land of nightmares.
Itās not long before a scream rips through the silence.
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I know you've mentioned the topic before, but what is your stance/ where do you intersect the concept of manifestation/ law of attraction and magic or spirit work? The new age spiritual movement (esp in the social media sphere) is quite contentious, but it's always interesting to see similar language used in witchcraft/magickal spaces, astrology, and new-age spiritual circles despite the communities being distinct (at least for longterm/ more extensive practitioners or hobbyists, I only ever see astrology and witchcraft communities overlap, but generally centred around moon cycles). Do you find witchcraft to be the same as manifesting but with physical elements, or completely distinct from loa/manifesting, perhaps somewhere in between? Does spirit work affect your view on LOA/ new age concepts of individualism and how everything is "within" us/our mind? I find it all interesting because all of these practices are largely internal, however LOA is very individualistic, almost like a capitalist take on different parts of magic, spirit work, and even denial in happenstance.
Sorry if these weren't the type of questions you were looking for or it was worded in a confusing way ! I have plenty more lol.
Hey!
I actually think that this is a really interesting ask. But it's a lot and I may not cover everything in this so feel free to send in another and reask if I don't.
Note: My expertise is definitely in the Witchcraft/Astrology sphere, not New Age so I don't know all of the ins and outs of LOA and "Manifestation" though obviously these spaces sometimes overlap so I've had some exposure to them.
I have two big problems with the Law of Attraction:
We call it a law and it's not. If we just called it the rule of attraction (like begets like) I don't fully disagree with it.
People say it can affect things beyond our mental states and act like purely thinking about things will change your life (spoiler alert: it won't)
Let me try to elaborate as succinctly as I can.
I believe that the Rule of Attraction is an effective and fairly simple form of mind magic that can be used in conjunction with any type of magic/witchcraft/astrology etc.
So much of how we perceive the world is affected by the state of our brains. There is so much more stimulus than we can ever perceive and process that our brains make decisions about what to focus on. This is done automatically based on our past experiences - our lives with all of our traumas and triumphs have trained our brains to perceive the world in a particular way.
This is why optimists tend to notice the good things that happen to them more and pessimists tend to notice the bad things that happen to them more. And I don't think that this is, for most people, a conscious choice that they have made. I suspect that for the average (generally unaware) person, the reason that they are a pessimist or an optimist is based upon the things that have happened to them throughout their life. If their life has been easy, the brain has been trained through this ease to see and recognize good things. But if their life has been hard, they may have had to focus on bad things to keep themselves safe.
The good thing about this is that through the neuroplasticity of our brains, we can change this. We can literally train our brains to focus more on the good or more on the bad.
We saw this happen through the last three years as many of the people who had up until the pandemic had relatively easy lives crumbled under the weight of realizing how dangerous the world can be. (That's not a judgment - just the reality as I see it) Trauma changes the brain, ignites our parasympathetic nervous system, and trains our brains to see a threat behind every corner.
When you are looking for a threat, you will find one. This is the like-begets-like part of the Rule of Attraction. When you expect your day to go badly, you will focus on and remember the bad parts of your day and ignore the good parts.
But, as I said, you can retrain your brain. When I am capable of giving the LOA gurus the benefit of the doubt, I think that is what they are trying to teach people to do. By focusing your attention on the positive things in your life, you are literally training your brain on how to look for the positives in your life. With practice, you can become more optimistic and learn to see the world differently.
I know because I have done this. And let me tell you, it is the hardest thing that I have ever done but also the most rewarding thing that I have ever done. It has calmed down the majority of my PTSD triggers. It has helped me to overcome bouts of depression faster. It has helped me to get over things that I thought were the base parts of my personality.
And I want to be clear: sometimes people interpret the Rule of Attraction to mean that you can't ever look at the bad things because that will mean that you draw in bad things. I choose to believe that's a deep misunderstanding. You can be a positive person (or simply be trying to look for the positives in life) and still encounter negative things - the trick is to not doomsday yourself the minute that a bad thing happens. To choose not to assume that one bad thing happening will ruin your day. To shake off the small stuff even if you can't shake off the big stuff. To remember that this afternoon is another chance to have a better day, or tomorrow is if this afternoon is shot.
What I don't believe is that you can think your chronic illnesses away, make money without working, or make other drastic changes to your outside life just with "positive thinking".
But being more positive thinking can help you to notice when you're having a good chronic illness day (rather than ruminating over how bad the next bad day will be), recognize that good opportunity to make money, or make you more likely to take the chance that WILL change your life rather than assuming that it won't work out.
I get that the Rule of Attraction isn't for everybody and that many people can't use it due to mental illness or trauma getting in their way. You aren't a bad person if you can't utilize this type of brain work and there's nothing "wrong" with you - it's just not for you. But I also don't think that makes it wrong or bad in the way that some people vilify it to be.
(Yeah, that was me trying to be succinct. I am not sure if I answered your question at all. But thanks for the chance to get on my soapbox, I guess)
