A/N: Ohmigod-guess who's updating! 0.0 So, I'm terribly sorry, ya'll, I just got over an awful case of writer's block:P But after some amazingly encouraging reviews (thanks LCB!:)) I decided that it was time to stop being a lazy bum and start writing again! I hope you all enjoy!
Disclaimer: All familiar content owned by the lovely Joanne Rowling:)
Chapter Six-The Pearl of Egypt
Hermione had always thought people were exaggerating when they called her an insufferable know-it-all. Something insufferable cannot be bore; it is not tolerable in any way, shape, or form. Hermione now knew that Tom Riddle was an insufferable know-it-all.
"I don't care how many times you've read Hogwarts, a History, Macmillan, there is notable research pertaining to the fact that though many are under the impression that you cannot apparate in and out of Hogwarts, it's simply a matter of bending the magic of the wards just long enough to accommodate your passing through. It's really a simple concept, Wenlock wrote an essay on it—"
"You're obnoxious," she informed him, without looking up. Was this how people felt about her when she went on one of her academic rants? If so, she suddenly felt a great deal more sympathy for them.
"I don't think I am. I think you're just irritated because you know I'm right."
"You're not right!" she snapped, slamming her book shut and turning in her seat to face him. "For your information, I have read Wenlock's essay, about a dozen times, and I'll have you know that after it was released, Starkey published an essay contradicting every single point made in Wenlock's, so there!"
"Merlin, we leave you two alone for ten minutes, and you still can't go without arguing?" Hermione and Tom both jumped as Harry and Ron entered the tent, carrying armfuls of bread and fruit.
"That's the best you could do, Macmillan?" Tom grumbled, picking up an orange and sneering at it with disdain.
"Oh, don't be picky," Harry said, glancing at the dark-haired boy coldly. "We all know that the Muggle orphanage wasn't exactly five-star, so I'm sure you can adjust fairly quickly." Tom's expression darkened and Hermione avoided his gaze, feeling his mood immediately turn sour.
"So are we ready to head out?" Ron asked, sensing an argument about to ensue. "We've searched the area thoroughly enough, right? I'm telling you, our best option is Germany."
"I know that, Ronald," Hermione said patiently, frowning. "But we don't know for sure whether or not he'll have gone there right away. We're not even certain of the location of Grindelwald's headquarters. We're going off virtually nothing here."
"I have an idea," Tom said quietly, and three pairs of eyes were drawn to him. "Well, the medallion originally belonged to Salazar Slytherin, didn't it? But now Grindelwald—or one of his highest-ranked men—has it. But the Slytherin line has…..died out—"Harry and Hermione shared a look at this. "Which means that they could not possibly have inherited it from Slytherin himself. Which means, most likely, that, when Slytherin died, the medallion was sold as a dark artifact, reasonably priced. Grindelwald must have recognized it for what it was, and, seeing his opportunity to lay siege on Hogwarts, purchased it…"
"Which means," Hermione cut in, catching where he was going. "That we'd have a better shot if we find out where Grindelwald purchased the medallion, as the salesman could tell us what the man he sold it to looked like—"
"—Or if it has any properties that would make locating it easier." Riddle finished, nodding slowly.
The four of them sat in silence for a moment, each absorbing this new bit of information, and how to best use it to their advantage. "There's just one problem, though," Harry said slowly. "They could have bought it anywhere."
"Not….necessarily." Tom stood up, pacing, his brow furrowed in deep, concentrated thought. "Think about it…where did Slytherin die?"
"…Northern Egypt," Hermione answered slowly, her brain whizzing. "And he had no family that he was close to. After he died, the medallion was—most likely—confiscated by the Ministry, as they recognized as a dark object, with ties to blood magic—"
"But the Egyptian Ministry has never been very good at keeping track of dark objects," Tom said, and Hermione nodded in agreement, neither of them noting the slight irritation on Harry and Ron's faces at being ignored. "So, what most likely happened was, the medallion was stolen from the Ministry, and sold into the nearest black market. So, all we have to do is go to Northern Egypt—"
"And find the person who sold them the medallion—"
"And he'll lead us to our evidence." Tom said, looking very confident.
"Right then!" Harry said, very loudly, clapping his hands together. "So what's the plan, gang?"
Hermione blinked slowly and stared Harry down as if he were an imbecile. "We're going to Egypt."
Harry pouted dejectedly, sitting back down. "Right….I thought that's what it was."
Traveling overseas by broom, Hermione could easily say, was one of the most uncomfortable voyages she had ever been forced to make in her life. The only thing that possibly made it more uncomfortable was that she had been forced to ride with Tom, pressed up against his broad, muscular back, her arms secured tightly around his waist.
"Look, Hermione, there's no way we're spending our precious galleons on brooms that we've got back at Hogwarts!" Ron had argued vehemently back at the tent.
"It doesn't matter Ronald, we aren't stealing those brooms! It's a crime!"
"It's not a crime because it's not stealing; we're going to bring them back…once we're done with them!" Harry said, nodding vigorously. "Besides, we could always just give them the money once we're done! I just don't think it would be wise to spend our galleons now when we aren't sure how long they last us."
So now Hermione sat, nearly seven hours later, closer to Tom Riddle than she had ever had the desire to be. Both Harry and Ron had oh-so-chivalrously suggested that she ride with the young You-Know-Who, and that they ride together, and it had taken every ounce of her self-control not to punch the smirk off of the Dark Lord's face.
"You quite comfortable, Hermione?" she could positively hear the arrogance laced in his tone and resisted the urge to lean against his back and let her eyes drift shut.
"Mmm," she murmured, deciding that there was no harm in her former proposition, and she leaned her forehead on his back, between his shoulder blades, and felt her breathing even out.
"Look, Macmillan, while we're here, I just wanted to say….I apologize for that day down in the kitchens. I don't know what got into me. I suppose I was just being my overly-curious self, but you did not deserve such treatment."
Hermione blinked, and wished, more than anything, that she could see his eyes at the moment, so it would be easier to convince herself that he was just feeding her a line right now; that there was no sincerity in his apology. She knew he must have some sort of motive for apologizing, that he wouldn't just do it out of the kindness of his heart, and she scoured her mind for what his motive could possibly be, what he could want from her enough to put on the pretty-boy face and blatantly lie to her.
"Riddle, you—"
"Look, I can see Alexandria!" Harry called over the wind, and Hermione peered down at the lights below. Harry was right; the city was emerging from the darkness rapidly. "Let's find somewhere to land."
They flew for twenty more minutes before they found a relatively isolated spot, past the residential area. The two brooms landed side-by-side, and Hermione hurriedly clamored off, stumbling on her feet slightly, starting as a pale hand caught her by the upper-arm and righted her.
"So, that old book of yours, Mione, it said that the two main ports for the black market were in Alexandria and—"
"And Cairo, yes: the two biggest cities naturally, one on the sea, and one more central to Egypt. Although, if we're going to find it, it's probably going to be in Alexandria; because the black market here is a port, near the sea, instead of closer inland, a lot of Cairo's dark objects are actually transported from the black market in Alexandria—they're connected, you see."
"So, how do we find this "black market" then? I'm assuming you can't just waltz in and ask to see all the dark objects they have in stock."
"Surprisingly enough, it's not much more difficult than that. Egypt isn't nearly as strict on their bans of dark magic as England—we're quite rare in that sense. Like Germany, it's considered a practiced art." Hermione glimpsed at Riddle, and found his dark eyes trained on her, as if she knew something she shouldn't, and she swallowed thickly, looking away.
"Shall we head into the heart of the city, then?" Ron asked, looking between the three of them. Harry nodded, and led the way, his wand in hand. "So, I have a question, then." The redhead continued. "How are we supposed to find this "black market"? Because what we're looking for, it's magical. We can't just go around asking random people if they know where the dark arts shops are—they could be Muggles!"
"Don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione scoffed. "Alexandria has an enclosed area specifically for magical peoples just like England does." Ron stared dubiously at her, and she rolled her eyes. "Diagon Alley, Ronald? Only witches and wizards can see the entrance, the Leaky Cauldron, so I imagine it will be something like that—"
"Or, you know, they'd just up and spell it out for us," Tom remarked, pointing above their heads, where two signs adorned a tall post, one, pointing right, reading "كان" and one pointing left, reading "يميل سحرية", and, underneath these, several translations in different languages.
"The Muggles can't see it," Ron remarked, and Hermione gave him a look that said "Obviously."
"The one pointing left says 'magically-inclined'." Tom informed them. "It's Arabic, which, I just realized, is going to be a problem. Alexandria's three main languages are Arabic, Greek and Italian. It might be difficult to find someone who can speak even a little English, let alone describe an ancient medallion."
"This looks familiar," Harry said, smiling. The street resembled Diagon Alley in many ways; magical shops were lined up on either side of the cobblestone street, and witches and wizards of all ages, shapes and sizes flitted this way and that, collecting cauldrons, robes, parchment, quills and owls larger than Hermione's arm.
"Nothing here looks even a little bit dark," Ron said gruffly, glaring as a passerby bumped into his shoulder. "Maybe we came to the wrong area…"
"It's not going to be out in the open," Riddle said knowledgeably "They're going to have it somewhere tucked away, where, at first glimpse, a Ministry wizard would never guess—"
Hermione suddenly broke away from the group, her eyes intent on a corner between two buildings where a large dumpster sat, surrounded by rubbish that had not quite made it in. She ran her hands along the wall of the first building, feeling a tingling against her fingertips. "No….." She withdrew her wand from her robes, tapping random bricks, trying to find a sequence. "This isn't like Diagon Alley, where the dark arts shops are just down the lane; they're smarter than that." She came to a brick which had a deep grove in the center, where it had darkened from time and erosion. Hermione pressed her wand tip against the grove—
And was promptly sucked inside.
She looked around, feeling the immediate darkening of her surroundings. A permanent despondency seemed to be cast upon this place, and she couldn't shake the eerie feeling that crept throughout her mind.
Tom came through the wall next, looking quite intrigued. "I always though European wizards were the most intelligent."
Hermione smirked. "And I'm sure the Egyptians think that they're most intelligent, but when it comes to a matter of facts, as both opinions are biased, who would ever know?"
Harry came third, and then finally, Ron, who was coughing violently. "Well that was bloody awkward," he growled. "What's the ruddy point of that? I hate traveling through walls! Every year, the Hogwarts Express, ever since Dobby and his stupid prank—"
Both Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped. She gave him a very pointed glare, and his mouth immediately snapped shut, seeming to realize what he had done. Hermione glanced at Riddle out of the corner of her eye, and she was horrified to see a look of utmost curiosity upon his face.
"I don't recall you ever having rode the Hogwarts Express, Mr. Hurst."
Ron swallowed thickly, and quite suddenly, the alley seemed far too small. "Yeah, well, I've seen the pictures, you know….of Platform 9 ¾, yeah? And Jack and Donnie have told me stories about a lot who would play pranks on their enemies by spelling the wall shut, so when they went to run through, they ran straight into it. Funny stories, actually, but I've been frightened of walking through walls ever since they told me."
It was a believable explanation, if not for the audible tremble in Ron's voice, and the fact that his face was about three shades lighter than it normally was. Hermione was suddenly all too aware of the fact that Riddle had his wand drawn, and was pointing it, quite conspicuously, at the three of them.
"I think you're lying, Hurst," he whispered. "In fact, I think all three of you are hiding something."
Hermione was irritated beyond belief, mostly at Ron, for slipping up at the most inopportune moment, but partly at Riddle, for being such a power-hungry prick. "We don't have time for this," she snapped. "You can investigate our pasts and satisfy your power-trip later, Riddle, right now, we've got a job to do." She raised her wand, pointing it at him. "As long as we are out here, for the remainder of these seven weeks, you will not mention or question our histories—"
Riddle grabbed her wrist, slamming her against the wall, and Harry and Ron gave shouts of indignation. As they moved to help her, an invisible wall seemed to spring up between the two of them and Hermione and Riddle. She gave a yelp as his fingers squeezed her with bruising force. "You seem to be under the impression, Hermione, that you have the right to order me around; that I will listen to you, because I am obligated to. I know that you know what the lot of us were really doing in the forest that night, so I know that you know that I am not one to be trifled with."
Hermione spluttered, trying to focus on one thought at a time. "I—you—they told you!"
He laughed coldly, making the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck stand up. "Silly girl, they didn't have to tell me. I could see it in their minds, just like I could do to you….right now, if I wished it."
Hermione felt panic rising in her throat, and she tried her best to conjure up her occlumency shield. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, doing her best to think of something, anything that would keep him away from what he wanted to know, what he could not be allowed to know.
After a few moments of nothing, Hermione cracked one eye open, peering at Riddle unsurely. He stood there in silence, staring down at her with what seemed to be a mixture of confusion and frustration. She blinked open both eyes, holding her breath as she waited for his next words. When he didn't say anything, she let out all her air in a big huff. "What?" She asked, annoyed that he was being so impossible to read.
"I—I do not understand you, Macmillan. You know what I am capable of, and yet, you do not give me what I want…"
She blinked one, two, three times before her eyebrows shot up and she let out a most ungraceful, un-lady-like snort. "Are—are you serious right now, Riddle? I desperately hope you aren't being serious, because….if you are, I just lost most of my respect for your supposed intelligence. You honestly think that just because you threaten people, and hurt people, you'll get what you want? Killing people…..it doesn't make them like you; it….it just makes them….dead. (a/n: I'm sorry guys, I just had to! Brownie points if you can tell me the reference)
He stared at her for a few more moments before taking down the shield, smirking as Harry and Ron, who had been leaning against it, attempting to break it, tumbled to the ground in an inelegant heap. Harry lept to his feet. "Mione, are you okay! Did he hurt you?" Hermione blinked in surprise, before realizing that Harry and Ron mustn't have been able to hear what was going on behind the shield. She threw Riddle a long side glance before turning back to Harry.
"Don't be silly, I'm fine. Now come on, we need to find out where that medallion came from."
After a moment, the three boys followed after her, the two dark-haired ones glaring each other down as they went.
A/N: There we are! I hope it made up for a fraction of the freakishly long wait:) I'm going to try to keep writing tonight, and if I go crazy, I might just finish this story before the end of Christmas break (I only have 5 days left, so don't hold me accountable!) Thanks sooo much for the continued support!
Lots of love!