Hardy Detective Agency featuring Hardy Boys Fan Fiction

Joe stared at the evil man standing before him, Frank doing the same. Joe was so surprised he didn’t even notice at first when Voldemort stood up and the wand was no longer pressed into his face.

“What?” Joe said, finally finding his voice. “Killed your daughter? I never killed anyone.”

Instead of answering, Voldemort said, “Remember your little girlfriend, Iola Morton?”

A sickening feeling creeping into the pit of his stomach, Joe nodded slowly. His girlfriend, the girl he was madly in love, the girl he had planning on spending his whole life with, had recently died in a car bombing…meant for him.

“Did you know she was adopted?”

“What?” Joe started at this statement. “No she wasn’t. She…she would’ve told me.”

“Ah, ah, ah…not if she didn’t know it herself. You see, Ms. Morton had a very odd childhood. Her father, one who had vowed to live his life alone and never feel love for a soul, broke that promise when he fell in love with a beautiful American girl during a trip for school. They eloped secretly and had one daughter, naming her Iola. Iola…Riddle, that was her real name. But, soon after their marriage, the little girl’s father got into the Dark Arts. He began wanting power…killing people, torturing, controlling them. His wife was not happy when she found out. She warned him not to get any further…to come back. But he refused, and got angry. Fearing for her life, she fled to Bayport where she put her two year old daughter up for adoption, not wanting her husband to hurt their daughter.

“The Mortons, whose family consisted of a mother, father, and their only child, a three year old boy, Chet, were delighted to take in the baby. However, Iola’s real mother said she wanted her child to know nothing of her past, and to bring her up like one of the family…to not tell her she was adopted. She feared it might endanger her and she wanted her to be happy. Her husband, however, was powerful, and he found out about this. He killed the mother, but let the child live. He decided that one day, when Iola was old enough, he would come back for he would teach her the Dark Arts. But that was delayed one day, when all his powers were stripped from him.

“Joe Hardy,” he said, eyes blazing, “do you know what my real name is? Tom. Tom Riddle. Iola Morton was my daughter. And you killed her.”

Joe, his face pale, eyes swimming with unshed tears, choked out, “I didn’t kill her. I loved her. That bomb wasn’t my fault. I…I would have died in her place if I could.”

Frank looked at his brother sadly, concern etched in his face. He couldn’t believe this…poor Joe. He had been through enough this past year with Iola’s death, and now this. He burned in anger for this injustice, but he said nothing, just gazed at Joe, wishing he could do something to comfort him.

Voldemort scoffed at the youth and said, “That wasn’t a bomb. It was a form of magic disguised as a bomb. I had one of my servants put it in your car. I was going to scare your father into joining forces with me. I thought that if one of his sons died, he’d do anything to protect the other. But my plans went wrong. If you hadn’t dated Iola, if she hadn’t been in the car…you killed her.”

“No,” Joe practically screamed. “No, I didn’t. You did. You did. You’re the one who put it there. You killed her mother. You ruined her life, our life together.”

Frank was very angry. “Joe didn’t do anything!” he exclaimed, and Voldemort turned to him, eyes flashing. “How could you? You killed your own wife?”

“My parents as well,” Voldemort said, as if it were something one does every day.

“You’re disgusting,” Frank spat. “Killing your own family, and then acting like Joe killed your daughter…his true love. Acting like you actually loved her. Like you cared if she was gone.”

“Oh, I didn’t say anything about love,” Voldemort sneered. “Just more of a matter of honor. And I could tell she would be powerful someday.”

“Honor?” Joe choked back the hot tears that were threatening to spill down his cheeks. “Honor? You killed your own family. I don’t see how honor would matter to you much.”

“It is different when someone else murders a family member.”

“I didn’t hurt her!” Joe yelled. Anger was now dominating over his sorrow. This man had killed Iola…and said that he did.

“And you kill other people’s family all the time!” Frank snarled. “Honor. Ha.”

Lucius finally stepped out of the shadows. “M’Lord,” he hissed, “this has been a…wonderfully productive discussion, but I suggest we move on with our plans. If we want Fenton, we must get the boys ready for the plot.”

“Of course, my slippery friend, but all in good time.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” Joe snarled.

Voldemort laughed. “And I am sure that is what you say to all of your foes when you confront them for a ‘final battle’. But oh, now my friends. I have plans for you and I am going through with it.” He then turned to Lucius. “My friend,” he said, “untie Frank.” As Lucius said a spell and the ropes fell off Frank, Voldemort told the youth, “I have a job for you.”

He pulled Frank roughly to his feet, and the young man looked anxiously at his brother, still tied up on the floor. “What about Joe?”

“Ah, do not worry about your brother. He is staying with us while you do a job. I can’t let my daughter’s killer get away, can I? Especially when I need a bargaining chip and revenge…”

“You’re not going to hurt him!” Frank yelled.

“Crutio!” As soon as the word came out of Voldemort’s mouth, Frank’s entire body erupted in pain, as he fell to the ground, screaming in agony. Joe watched helplessly as his brother flailed about, trying to escape from his misery. Before he lost consciousness, however, Voldemort removed the spell and yanked the shaking youth to his feet.

Frank stood trembling, his entire body hurting more than he could ever imagined.

“Do not contradict me.” Voldemort said these words softly, threateningly. “You see what kind of pain your brother will go through if you don’t do this job for me? And I happen to know that this curse, this unforgivable curse, can kill if it is used too much.”

“Unforgivable curse?” Joe asked, still horribly shaken.

“There are three. I will demonstrate the one I will be using on your brother right now.”

“No, don’t hurt him,” Joe pleaded, and Voldemort smiled.

“Not all unforgivable curses cause physical pain. At least to the person under the curse.” He then pointed his wand and Frank and hissed, “Imperio. Frank,” said Voldemort softly, giving the youth a small knife, “puncture your brother’s shoulder with this. Not enough to harm him badly…just to inflict pain.”

Joe’s eyes widened as Frank took the dagger and advanced on him. “Frank,” he said softly. “Please. No. What are you doing? Stop!”

But Frank advanced on him, and, despite Joe’s horrified protests, knelt down beside his brother, and with no expression on his face at all, plunged the knife into his brother’s shoulder.

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Disclaimer

The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The Hardy Boys Fan Fiction authors of the Hardy Detective Agency have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.