Expectations of Grandeur

by Josephine Sawyer

It is our choices who make us who we are, but sometimes those choices have already been made for us. Tom is back and has to choose again.

4. Riddle Me What?

Disclaimer: This story includes characters and situations that are part of the Harry Potter universe, which is copyright J.K.Rowling, Scholastic, Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury, etc. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made in the production of this FANFICTION. Not many outside resources were needed this time, but I (as always) made extensive use of the Harry Potter Lexicon, www.hp-lexicon.org, when writing this chapter.

Author's Note: ashamed laughter Happy New Year… and Easter. The short story is colleges and first semester senior year turned out to be tougher than I thought. The long story is… colleges and first semester senior year turned out to be tougher than I thought and I got caught up with other writing projects along the way. Sorry that this got pushed aside, I feel very guilty about it. Thanks go to Fantome (Thank you thank you thank you! You'll find out who it is in this chapter, so I won't tell you here) and Meinien (I feel rather bad for not following your one request, but I suppose better late than never).

Expectations of Grandeur: Chapter 4: Riddle Me What?

Harry followed Dumbledore into the dark, plush antechamber with stained oak walls and a maroon carpet, and sat down in one of the satin-upholstered seats. He had never seen the room before; it had probably only recently been cleaned of dark creatures. He eyed Dumbledore cautiously as the elderly wizard pulled another softly cushioned chair into place near Harry and sat down. The old man's eyes were twinkling slightly sadly, and he sighed comfortably as he sat down. "What is it you have to say to me, Harry?" he asked.

Harry was suddenly vaguely embarrassed at having demanded a private interview with his headmaster. He looked down at his scuffed trainers, took a deep breath and decided that, being in, he might as well continue. However, come to think of it, he didn't much want to talk about his dreams – they were probably merely the products of an overactive imagination, what was the purpose of bothering Dumbledore any more than needed? He racked his brain for another question while staring at the carpet beneath his shoes. "Well, Professor McGonagall said you would be teaching me Occlumency this year, and I was just wondering, well, I mean…" Really, this didn't seem too good an idea at all come to think of it.

Dumbledore smiled, and his smile sparkled in his eyes. "Professor McGonagall has been your stalwart supporter all summer, Harry. Your private tutoring lessons with her will start the first week of school, and as for your lessons with me," here Dumbledore paused momentarily, "I will tell you when those shall begin."

Harry nodded slowly. "About the Occlumency lessons," he said, avoiding the topic that weighed on his mind, refusing to think about his dreams. "Snape, when he was trying to teach me, he made me feel even weaker than before." Harry winced at the thought of the dreams he had had after those lessons with Snape, and even more at the memories he had had to relive and worse, see. This might be worse than his real problem. "Was he hurting me?" he asked, weakly. "Or are they always like that?"

"After testing your Occlumency ability, it will of course be weaker," responded Dumbledore with a slight smile. "Imagine if you were training for Quidditch. The first few practices leave you sore and weak, but slowly you gain strength and endurance." Harry was surprised that Dumbledore would choose Quidditch as his analogy, but he supposed that even his headmaster had been young once, and it was possible he had played the game as a younger man. Dumbledore continued after clearing his throat. "However, even after the hardest Quidditch practices, you can walk. If you felt uncomfortably weak after a lesson, it is possible that Snape was pushing you harder than strictly necessary. I will try not to be so hard on you, Harry." Dumbledore smiled genially, but his eyes never quite lost their shadows.

Harry smiled gratefully, and decided to put his mind at ease about Occlumency lessons. Dumbledore had explained some of Harry's weakness following the lessons, and it was entirely possible Snape was, in fact, pushing him harder than needed. Or maybe Snape was even trying to hurt Harry, if subconsciously. This was Snape, after all, the greasy haired Potions professor. Which brought Harry back, uncomfortably, to his latest dreams of Dumbledore and Snape discussing objects in the Chamber of Secrets. Harry's face must have darkened because Dumbledore spoke. "Harry, is there something you would like to tell me?" he asked.

It was asked just the way Dumbledore had asked it in Harry's second year, as if to say 'I know you have something to tell me, what is it?' Harry took another deep breath. It was a difficult subject, but after all he might ask. Dumbledore wouldn't humiliate him, wouldn't criticize him for believing the dream might be real. His grandfatherly headmaster would thank Harry for considering it and talking to him first. "Professor… over the summer, I've been having more dreams. I've been dreaming about the Chamber of Secrets, and you've been in it. Whenever I awoke, my scar would hurt. Are they just normal dreams, or have I you actually been in the Chamber? If you have, I think Voldemort might know too – or how else would I know?"

Dumbledore nodded slowly, carefully, considering what he was going to say. Harry wished his headmaster would just tell him the truth, but decided to take whatever he could get. "Yes, Harry," Dumbledore began. Harry stared in mute astonishment. What he had seen – Dumbledore in the Chamber of Secrets – was true, then. Dumbledore continued. "The Hogwarts professors and I have been disenchanting the Chamber of Secrets. I haven't found anything overly dangerous there, and most of the spells have been taken off already. I hope to move the Order's headquarter into the Chamber as soon as possible – after all, what better place than that? It's within easy access of the school, completely hidden and inaccessible, and with a password we can seal it off except to Order members. Most importantly, we will be out of this old house. Poor Remus can't come near it anymore, and I'm surprised the Weasleys are holding up so well."

Move the Order headquarters? Harry understood the motivation, and Dumbledore's impulse to draw his friends and supporters closer to himself made sense, but Harry had a feeling in his gut that moving the Order was not a good idea. What if Voldemort found out? Grimmauld place was impossible to find unless Dumbledore led you to it, what better hiding place could there be? And perhaps more importantly, if Voldemort didn't know, why this prophetic dream all of a sudden? If his scar hurt wasn't that a sign that Voldemort was involved? "But then… Voldemort, he must have seen you in there, or else I wouldn't have been able to. It's dangerous, Professor." Harry looked up at his teacher and realized the foolishness of what he was saying, warning Dumbledore of the danger of what he was doing. Albus Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of the era, the only man Voldemort had feared, who singlehandedly protected Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the Dark Lord and the Ministry at once, for almost a year. Who was little Harry Potter to tell him what was too dangerous?

But Dumbledore merely smiled. "With the wards up around the school, it would be as hard for Voldemort to get into the Chamber of Secrets as it would for him to get into any area of the school. I have been able to protect the students these many years. The Order will be perfectly safe, Harry."

Harry, slightly abashed, looked down at the floor again. "Thank you," he mumbled, "That's all I had to ask." The carpeting was a dark wine-red, perfect for hiding stains. Then again, this rug probably cleaned itself – it wouldn't matter what you spilled on it, or what color it was.

Dumbledore stood up, the chair creaking behind him. Harry stood to follow. "Oh, and one last thing, Harry," Dumbledore remarked as he held the door for Harry. "I did find something of interest in the Chamber – a boy, your age, named Tom Marvolo Riddle. He's enrolled in Hogwarts this year – your year, I believe, as a Slytherin, and he's taken up the name Ophicus Serpens Marvolo. I would request that you treat him with the utmost respect and cordiality, as it has come to my attention that he is quite a separate entity from the Dark Lord." Harry stopped in his tracks, a few steps away from Dumbledore, a look of shock on his face. Tom Riddle not related to the Dark Lord? Dumbledore had been the one to confirm that they were one and the same. Dumbledore motioned for him to leave the room, adding, as a comfort, "You have nothing to fear from him."

Harry forced his stunned feet to move and slowly stepped out of the room and into the corridor beyond. Dumbledore followed and silently closed the door, and they retreated to the main hall. The elderly Professor called out his goodbyes and Harry trudged into the kitchen, not sure whether to be happy or fearful after his discussion with Dumbledore about the Chamber.

Given Dumbledore's final comment, Harry supposed he knew who that boy he had dreamed about was, the boy in Slytherin. Even Tom Riddle himself had remarked on the physical similarities between Harry and the teenaged Dark Lord. Harry supposed that Tom could spend the summer at Hogwarts – something he himself would have given anything to do but had always been forbidden. Harry sighed with jealousy. Why wasn't it Harry staying at Hogwarts for the summer? Something in the back of his head shouted; "How come Tom Riddle always gets the best of everything?"

When he entered the kitchen, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting at the table, gloomily picking at their breakfasts. Mrs. Weasley was scurrying about, preparing more food for the probably soon-to-be-arriving members of the Order of the Phoenix. Lupin followed, helping where needed but mostly just getting in the way. Harry smiled weakly before joining his friends at the table for breakfast. "I need to talk to you guys," he said, mainly to Ron and Hermione. They nodded but said nothing.

Soon, Tonks, Mad-Eye, and Mundungus joined them and all inhabitants of number 12 Grimmauld Place were eating breakfast, subdued and quiet. The somber air of the house weighed their hearts, stifled their comments. Even Tonks' unusually bright purple hair did nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

Mrs. Weasley spoke up first. "Ginny," she said, slowly and evenly, trying to sound placating, "What would you think of going somewhere over Christmas holiday?" Behind her a small ornament over the sink swung and bobbed, as if in appreciation of the idea. She had done her best to decorate the kitchen, probably voiding the Weasley home of most of its trinkets to fill the spacious, gloomy room in the Black house. The counters, where not messy with the grime of a newly prepared meal, were cluttered with brightly colored knick-knacks in a vain attempt at cheer.

Ginny looked up and shrugged. "Why don't you ask Ron?" She responded with a yawn before looking down at her eggs and prodding them with a fork.

"He'll probably want to stay over at Hogwarts, he's done that for the past few years," Mrs. Weasley responded, visibly pained. There was something she didn't want to say while everyone was there. Harry could wager a guess as to what it was, given her conversation with Dumbledore before anyone else was awake. He glanced between Mrs. Weasley's concerned face and Ginny's obliviously blank expression. Unless Mrs. Weasley told her daughter what was going on, this quiet wouldn't last very much longer, and Harry wasn't even sure that telling Ginny to expect Tom Riddle would help matters.

"So has Ginny stayed over at Hogwarts," Ron commented foolishly through her food. He probably thought he was avoiding a difficult decision, but Mrs Weasley shot him a quick glance that hushed him quickly. "But maybe she'd like to travel?" he ventured, trying to redeem himself in his mother's eyes. It only made matters worse; Ginny herself picked up on the game.

She glared at Ron and then turned to her mother. "Yeah, mum, so have I stayed over at Hogwarts." She put down her fork, focusing on her her mother instead of her meal.

"I just thought," Mrs. Weasley began, almost hurt, "That you would be a tad homesick, what with being the only girl and all…" She turned back to the sink and began cleaning up, defensively, before realizing that the dishes were washing themselves and fluttering about in a self-imposed flutter.

"I'm the only girl at home," Ginny corrected, now frustrated. "There are plenty of other girls at Hogwarts." She paused, but her mother said nothing in response. "If you want me to come home, then tell me the real reason, mum."

Mrs. Weasley winced, visibly pained by the thought of telling her daughter the real reason. Harry glanced around – who in the room could it have been that didn't already know of the horrors that passed in Harry's second year? But, come to think of it, they hadn't told a soul, so perhaps even the Order members didn't know Ginny herself was involved. "It's… it's nothing," she said with a glance that tried to convey it but failed miserably. "Your father and I just want you to come home for the holidays, so… we can be sure you're safe." She prodded her husband.

Mr. Weasley perked up, "It's dark times, Ginny." He added, on cue. "We're worried about our little girl. Is that allowed?" He smiled weakly.

Ginny squinted, but then shrugged. "I'll be perfectly safe at Hogwarts, mum. Dumbledore can protect me, just like all the other students. Don't worry." She tried to brush it off as parental worry and turned briefly back to her plate, but something bothered her and she furrowed her brow.

"She's right, Molly," Mad-Eye Moody quipped. "There isn't any safer place than Hogwarts School for a child. Dumbledore keeps close watch over his territory. And who knows – maybe we'll be closer to the school ourselves this year." He winked.

Harry looked instinctively to the other order members, none of who seemed to have moved at all at Mad-Eye's hint. Ron jabbed him in the arm. "What's that all about, Harry? Closer to the school?" he hissed.

"I'll tell you after breakfast," Harry responded, and turned back to the conversation.

"Ginny, it shall be such fun," Mrs. Weasley continued, ignoring Mad-Eye completely and walking over to her daughter. "We can go and visit Charlie."

Sighing, Ginny turned back to face Mrs. Weasley. "Mum, we don't have the money for that…" she began, and paused. "And besides, I don't want to leave school. I'd rather spend my holidays at Hogwarts."

Mrs. Weasley sighed. "Ginny, I'm sorry but we really have to put our foot down. You're coming home, you'll be safer closer to us." There was an awkward pause and no one said anything. "It's for your own good."

Ginny glared, shocked. "And what about Ron?"

"He'll be fine at the school. You don't understand, dearie, we worry about a little girl like you…"

Ginny stood up, furious. "I'm not a little girl, mum. I'm fifteen years old. But you seem to have forgotten that!" She left the room in a storm.

For a moment there was awkward silence. Then, "I'm done," chimed Ron cheerfully, and carried his and Ginny's plates to the kitchen to be washed. Hermione shook her head but followed reluctantly, motioning for Harry to come along as well. None of them breathed until they were upstairs and away from the adults. "That was getting intense," exhaled Ron.

Hermione nodded in agreement as the three sat down around the room. "Get your OWL results, Harry?" she asked. Ron groaned. He had probably been getting quite a bit of this lately.

Harry nodded. "Good enough to become an Auror, what more could I want?" Ron grinned and Hermione smiled, but neither said anything. "Not as good as yours, Hermione, I hear. How many did you get?"

"She got ten," Ron cut in, "Astronomy, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, History of Magic, Transfiguration, Herbology, and Muggle Studies."

Harry blinked. "But you're not in the Muggle Studies class, why did you take the exam?"

"It could never hurt," Hermione responded, blushing. "You never know when that sort of accreditation could be useful – and I didn't have to do much extra studying, having lived as a Muggle and all." She trailed off, embarrassed.

"All Exceeds Expectations, of course. Hermione, I think spending time with you is enough to give anyone self-esteem issues." Ron smiled as he said it, and clearly didn't mean it too harshly. "I only got seven, myself. Flunked Potions – Snape would have been proud, in whatever way Snape is ever proud." He laughed ruefully. Harry smiled but Hermione looked up from the floor.

"Ron, that's no way to improve your potions skill," she chided. "If I were you, I would be going in for extra help to get better. The ability to mix potions is a valuable skill that you're letting drop simply because you have a penchant against Snape…"

But both Ron and Harry were staring at her, so she realized it was futile.

There was a dull roar from below and two voices could be heard. Mrs. Weasley must have finally found Ginny, and they were fighting fiercely enough to bring down the house. Hermione stood up and went to the door, but the shouts stopped, and seconds later Ginny streaked past the door, sobbing.

It didn't take long for Mrs. Weasley to catch up. She popped her head in. "Did Ginny come this way?" she asked. Hermione nodded numbly, still in shock. "That girl is going to get hurt one of these days, and we won't be around to protect her…" she said, turning back. "One of you go try and talk some sense into her; she's impossible when she gets like this."

Mrs. Weasley left and Harry, Ron and Hermione sat in silence for a minute or two, still stupefied by the explosive argument.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, finally.

Harry knew he would have to tell his friends eventually, but he didn't know exactly what to say now that the event had come to pass. "They're all in a fluster about the Chamber of Secrets – they've found Tom Riddle."

Sure enough, the plan of just telling them the truth without background failed miserably. "What?" demanded Hermione and Ron in unison.

Harry hardly knew how to begin. "I've been having dreams lately," he tried, "Dreams that the teachers have been down in the Chamber of Secrets." He wasn't sure it was relevant but he also wasn't sure he cared. It was as good a starting place as any.

Neither Ron nor Hermione asked him why this was important, they seemed grateful that they were getting some information, and grateful not to be sitting in the now awkward silence. "Why would they be there?" queried Hermione.

"I asked Dumbledore that, and he said that he was trying to convert it to a new Order headquarters. This one has too many…" Harry paused, the thought was still painful to him. "Too many memories. And the Chamber is just as secure: the only entrance into it is through the school. So that's what Moody was talking about – they might be closer to the school this year. They might be in the school this year."

Ron nodded slowly. "That all makes sense, or at least almost, but what does it have to do with Ginny, or Tom Riddle?"

"That's the other part of it," Harry responded. "When they were looking through the Chamber, they found Riddle." He said it as quickly, as offhandedly, as he could manage. He supposed it wasn't particularly calmly. Ron stared, again shocked.

Hermione gasped and then furrowed her brow. "What happened? Is he in Azkaban?"

Harry shook his head. "No. He's enrolling in classes," he responded, hardly believing himself.

Ron was staring blankly at Harry, leaving Hermione to do all the responding. Hermione was still obviously confused. "But isn't he Voldemort?"

"Apparently not," Harry explained, "Dumbledore says he's harmless. I haven't even said the worst part - he's not just enrolling in classes, but he's enrolling in our year." Realization dawned on Hermione's face. They would probably have classes with him. The idea of sitting through a potions class with Malfoy and Riddle was more than Harry thought he could bear right then.

They were silent for a minute or two while the idea sunk in, and then Ron laughed. "I suppose he and Malfoy will get along famously, birds of a feather and all." He stood. "But has Dumbledore gone of his rocker? Harmless, Riddle is the Dark Lord!"

Harry shrugged, "Dumbledore said something about that not being true – but I don't know whether I trust him or not. This is Riddle we're talking about after all. In any case, it explains why your mother wants Ginny home for the holidays. She'll probably campaign for the weekends as well."

"Someone should tell Ginny," Hermione said. "Where is she?"

"Dunno," answered Ron, "She could be anywhere in the house now, she was moving so fast. We should find her." He looked to Hermione, slightly afraid.

"Yeah…" Hermione mumbled, looking out into the hallway, now shadowed and infested with Merlin knew what strange creatures that had not yet been purged from the centuries-old house.

Harry stepped towards the doorway. Neither Ron nor Hermione moved. "You coming?" he asked.

"You can handle this one," Ron answered. "We'd be useless, Harry. We only know what you've told us."

Harry looked out into the deserted corridor. "Ron, are you afraid of the house?"

"No, no, of course not…" Ron mumbled in response.

"It's Ginny we're afraid of," offered Hermione, not too convincingly. "She was so furious, who knows how she'll take the news."

"She's been touchy all summer," Ron added. "Dunno why. She brightened up a bit when they went to find you, though. Maybe she won't get as angry if you tell her."

Harry was uncertain, but he knew that somehow Ginny had to be told of the news, so he stepped into the darkened corridor, tentatively searching for the small girl, following her hysterical path of just a few minutes ago. She could be anywhere in the house. Harry gulped. This was one house he didn't want to have to search alone.