Chapter 7

Unrequited

Moody stepped tentatively through the darkness. The lichen-encrusted floor made a loud crunch under the weight of his feet. He walked with a slight crouch and panned his wand about, trying desperately to a get a lay of the dark cavern by the dim light of the Lumos spell. Wherever he flashed his wand, he caught glimpses of strange vermin before they scurried off. He looked over to Riddle, who held his wand high overhead, its light diffusing shortly past the length of his arm. Since his head was directly below his wand's hilt, Riddle's face was obscured in shadow. Moody could tell by the vigor in his companion's step that he had a different opinion about the potential dangers that might lie ahead of them.

"Just because I almost got us killed last time does not mean you should try to one-up me in the 'reckless stunts' department, Tom. You're supposed to be the levelheaded one."

"What are you going on about? It's perfectly safe in here."

Moody kicked aside an ossified femur after almost tripping on it. "Then why, pray tell, is the ground littered with skeletons?"

"I wouldn't say 'littered'; I counted three skeletons – four, tops. I'm sure it's meant to scare off the riffraff."

Moody could imagine the smirk that must be etched on Tom's face. "Don't be glib, Tom. It's not the skeletons that give me pause but the way they came to be here."

"That's my point. You don't see any fresh corpses around, do you? According to legend, this antechamber is over a millennium old. I doubt if any traps still work after all this time."

"I doubt that magical contraptions would have an expiration date."

Riddle sighed, maintaining an air of casual disinterest. "Would it make you feel any better if I walked a few paces ahead of you, Allie?"

"Why, yes, Tom, it would. Immensely." It felt good to throw some of Riddle's sarcasm back at him.

Riddle's features disappeared in the darkness despite the light from his wand. Moody kept a wary eye out for danger as he followed the bouncing orb ahead. He whipped his light in the direction of a shrill, clicking sound; it was only a bat. When he reached the end of the ancient corridor, he found Riddle examining a door with inscrutable writings carved into the rockface.

Riddle waited until Moody got his bearings. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah," Moody replied rather quickly. "So, what do you make of this?"

"You mean you haven't figured it out yet?" Riddle snorted before pointing his wand at the ceiling. "Lumos Maxima!"

A flare shot from the wand and exploded a few meters above them, illuminating every crack and crevice in the immediate area. Moody's eyes widened with recognition. He reached into his backpack and pulled out Godric's manuscript. He flipped frantically through the pages until he found a hand-drawn rendering of a vault – the same vault which now stood before them.

"We've found it," Moody said barely above a whisper. "Gryffindor's tomb." He reached out to feel the door, tracing his fingertips between the grooves of the many glyphs. He looked back at Tom, who stood over him with a grin of satisfaction. "The writing... can you translate it?"

"No," he replied, pursing his lips. "As far as I can tell, it's rooted in Old Germanic."

Moody stood back to get a better view of the writing. He reckoned that it measured about six meters from the floor to the ceiling. Water dripped from a crack in the weathered masonry above. He could see a colony of algae clustered around the moisture. It spread all the way from the adjoining wall to the seal lining the door. The vault's craftsmanship was impressive; the stones were fitted so tightly that there was no need for mortar, and yet they had held the cavern together for centuries. There wasn't a surface that did not have runes chiseled into the rock. Even after all that time, it was evident that the calligraphy had been performed by a master.

Unfortunately, Old Germanic was not one of Moody's strong suits. "There's got to be a way to open it. It's probably hidden in code."

"Alohomora!"

"Tom, wait—" Moody hopped back. The sound of aged gears and scraping rock could be heard behind the wall. A stale breeze puffed past them as the twin doors cracked open.

When the doors had fully parted, Riddle brushed past Moody, slapping him on the back. "See, I told you. It's perfectly safe."

Moody followed Riddle past the doors into the main antechamber. With a wave of his wand, Riddle activated the torches along the wall. Moody opened the book and read aloud the reference below the rendering of the tomb.

"In these hallowed walls lie my most prized possession and the source of my power: my core." He closed the book and put it away. "What do you think it means?"

Riddle walked toward the center of the chamber. The Gryffindor sigil was carved into the stone at their feet. When he put his weight on it, a pedestal raised from an opening in the floor. The two crowded around the stand and stared in awe at a bright red gem suspended at its peak.

"How's that for an answer, eh?" Riddle commented.

"The core?" Moody probed the jewel with his wand. The light from the tip reflected off the gem brilliantly and illuminated the room, bathing them in a crimson glow. "The core is an amulet?"

"T'would appear so; it reacts to magic." Riddle backed away from him to examine some of the glyphs along the wall with greater scrutiny. "Take it. If this place is truly a tomb, then this could be the key to finding the sarcophagus."

Moody reached out but stopped short of touching it. "I feel like we're making a mistake."

Tom continued to press him. "What we're 'making' is history."

Moody nodded uncertainly. "So easy..."

"Go on."

Moody did not go on but instead lowered his hand and glared at Riddle. "Too easy."

"Pardon?"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that we could just stroll in here unchallenged? Even you are not this brazen. You've been here before, haven't you? You deactivated all the traps." He sighed in sudden comprehension and thought aloud, "There's something preventing you from taking the amulet, isn't there? Something that you need me for?"

Riddle shook his head. "You're being paranoid, Allie."

"Really?" He stood aside. "Then you take it."

Riddle met Moody's stare but eventually curled his lip. "I can't."

He scoffed in disbelief. "Do you think me stupid, Tom?"

"I don't think you're stupid, Allie. A little naive, perhaps," he replied with a smirk. When he saw that Moody was not amused, however, his expression sobered. "Yes. I was able to anticipate and disable every trap from a careful reading of the text. However, the last puzzle – how to grab the amulet itself – escaped me." He walked over to the adjacent wall and illuminated a specific spot with his wand. "None of the renderings made sense until I saw this glyph."

Moody's eyes focused on the faded depiction referenced by the glyph. He recognized it immediately. "Gryffindor's sword." He chuckled in understanding before adding, "So, as with Godric's sword, you think only someone with the true heart of a Gryffindor can claim the amulet?"

"It was the only solution that made sense!" The urgency in Riddle's voice betrayed his excitement. He paced back and forth thoughtfully as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. "And when you walked into Borgin and Burkes the day before I quit, I believed it was providence confirming my theory."

Moody gripped the manuscript tightly in his hands. "I now see why you gave me this book. And all that talk about justification through reason… I suppose that was all rubbish too?"

"NO!" Riddle held up a finger as he approached Moody from the opposite side of the pedestal. The red light reflected from the amulet amplified the intensity in his eyes. "Everything I've told you was true; knowledge will set us free. I wasn't trying to deceive you; I just wanted to gauge your level of interest."

"Gauge my level of interest?" Moody turned his back on his friend.

Riddle kept his voice soft and reassuring as he reengaged him. "Our travels together have convinced me of one thing: you and I are two of a kind."

"But, Tom, we have to tell somebody about this. It should be studied. Everyone has a right to the knowledge."

"I agree. But you know what's going to happen once those fat cats at the Ministry get their hands on this place? After they usurp its magic for themselves, they'll destroy it, catalog it and stick it in a vault somewhere. I guarantee you that the knowledge will never see the light of day in any history text."

Moody averted his eyes, looking down on the red jewel. "So, what knowledge do we gain from this?"

"I believe this object to be more powerful than the Elder Wand or any Philosopher's Stone. Verily, Gryffindor's secret may bring us one step closer to defeating death."

"I thought what we were trying to accomplish was enlightenment."

"Yes, enlightenment through a complete understanding of magic. But in order to gain a complete understanding, we have to be fearless in its pursuit." Riddle grasped at the amulet longingly. His hand passed through the relic as if it were nothing more than a projection of false light. "They say Godric was never defeated in combat. Why is that? Was he that good? Or did he have an edge?"

"So, you think this... trinket was Godric's edge?" Moody asked. "How can you know that?"

"I don't claim to know. But you read the text yourself," he said, pointing to the manuscript now in Moody's pocket. "Godric wouldn't have gone to such lengths if this were not powerful magic."

Moody rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Sure, it's powerful—so powerful that Godric hid it away. Maybe this is all a warning, Tom."

"If it was so evil, so dangerous, then why bother at all? Why not destroy it? Is it supposed to sit here for all time in this musty cave?"

The room went quiet. In his reverie, Moody rested his hands on either side of the pedestal and stared deeply into the artifact. It had an almost hypnotic glow about it. "I—I just don't know, Tom."

Riddle stood behind his friend. He placed his hands on Moody's shoulders and rubbed them gently. "Some of the greatest discoveries of wizardkind started with 'I don't know'. We come to knowledge by questioning." He leaned in and spoke softly in Moody's ear. "I don't know either, Allie, but I want to. Join me. We can find those answers together—you and me against the world. All you have to do is reach for that unknown and take it. Take control of your destiny."

Moody found his friend's words soothing. The way Riddle stroked the hair at his temple, the way his warm breath felt on his earlobe put him at ease: things were starting to finally make sense.

It's the only way we can be together.

The thought echoed in his head. Tom was always such a good friend: always kind, always a good source of advice and always a genius at magic. Why not?

You've always admired me. Who has been a better teacher to you than even Dumbledore? Who tutored you through your O.W.L.s? Who helped to conceal your relationship with that... girl?

Yes, he'd always admired Tom. He loved the way his strong hands held him, as a master would the hilt of a wand, wanting to shudder at his touch, the conduit for Riddle's power, in service to him—to service him. Moody yearned to kneel before him, arms outstretched, smitten, at the mercy of whatever spell ejected from the tip of that magical rod. The thought of it made his blood surge.

We'll do that, and more, when we're together. All you have to do is grab my jewel…

WHAT THE BLOODY FU—? Moody turned to face Riddle. Not realizing how close they were, their lips grazed as their eyes met. Moody jerked away and moved to keep the amulet between them. "I—I will realize my destiny, Tom... but on my own terms."

Riddle reached tentatively for Moody's hand on the corner of the pedestal. Moody's withdrew from him, and Riddle sighed impatiently, his eyes pleading. "Look, I get it. You're still mad. I'm sorry about lying to you, I'm sorry about the unicorn, I'm sorry about the bloody giant—"

"That's not it, Tom." Moody backed away and leaned thoughtfully against the wall just below the glyph of Gryffindor's sword. "It's just that this isn't fun anymore."

"Fun? What did you think this was going to be, Allie, a field trip? I don't know about you, but I'm here to raise the level of the game."

"At what expense, Tom?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and folding his arms.

"There you go again, talking like a sheep! What's wrong with wanting to be the greatest wizard in the world? I thought we were partners."

"So did I. But now I'm starting to get the distinct impression that what you want is a… minion."

Taken aback by the accusation, Riddle started to retort but quickly abandoned the notion and fell silent. He glanced several times between Moody and the wand resting in his hands before finally replying, "How can you say that Allie? How long have we been friends?"

Moody stood upright. "Long enough for me to know that sometimes you can be a right tosspot!"

They squared off with their wands pointing downward and grasped tightly in their hands. There was to be no salute.

Moody stared at Riddle intently, looking for any sign of the person that he had once regarded as a friend. Riddle had his back to the flames, which cast his features in shadows, making him more inscrutable than ever. Moody debated whether he should either strike preemptively or devise a counter-spell; there were still some moves in his arsenal that Tom had not seen yet. After the brief moment of tension, however, something unexpected happened: Riddle laughed loudly in a rather mirthless display of cachinnation.

Riddle put his wand away, keeping his movements slow. "You're right, of course. I am a tosspot. But don't you see? This is why fate put us together, Alastor. Because of your heart. We are a perfect match; you can keep us honest."

Moody sheathed his wand. "I'm glad you agree because my heart tells me that the amulet should stay here as Godric intended." He tapped the panel and watched the pedestal lower back into the floor, taking the amulet with it. Satisfied, he headed back for the door but noticed that Riddle was not following him. "Are you coming or staying?"

Riddle looked back with disappointed eyes. "Nothing's keeping you here on my account."

"I see." He reached into his pocket and offered up Godric's manuscript. "I s'pose you'll be wanting this back, then?"

Riddle shook his head before looking away for the last time. "No, you keep it. No hard feelings, eh?"

The quietness of death returned inside the tomb. Moody started to walk over to Tom to make one more entreatment to his friend, but something, an instinct, stopped him. A wall of unfamiliarity had arisen between them. One thing was for sure: he no longer felt safe.

"Goodbye, Tom."

"Goodbye, Allie."

Moody left without another word but did not turn his back to Riddle until he had cleared the chamber. After Apparating at their camp, he reached into his backpack once more and grabbed a small velvet box. He opened it with care and gazed longingly at the ring inside before touching it with his finger.

BAM!