Time and Again
Author's Note: The Ron/Hermione bit's a bit longer in this one. That said, there is a lot of talk about Voldemort in it.
Chapter 10 - Truth and Manipulations
January 1945
Over the following weeks, Riddle proved to be persistent- yet another desirable trait for a Dark Lord to have. After all, their evil dictatorships always took a lot of planning and trying. They didn't just fall into place. Even now Grindelwald was persisting, but hadn't yet succeeded in taking control of continental Europe.
Riddle was suddenly everywhere Harry was. Harry had thought he'd seen a lot of Riddle before, but now he couldn't go two classes without seeing the Slytherin's smirking face. And he didn't just say hello to Harry. He'd always make sure to drag him off to some place more private and try to kiss him again. Harry should never have given him that Christmas present. It was just encouraging the fellow. Harry had had stalkers before, but none quite like Riddle.
Harry found himself torn every day. Some of the things Riddle did were terribly romantic, like getting the house elves to prepare his favourite dessert. But they were inevitably tinged with darkness, like everything else Riddle touched. He hadn't just asked the house elves to prepare it. He'd stood there and bullied them to make sure it was perfect, Harry had found the next time he was in the kitchen.
But Harry couldn't completely hold it against Riddle because he too was tinged with darkness. At the same time, he couldn't let himself fall for Riddle. That would be the most dangerous thing Harry could do, but when he was standing nose to nose with Riddle, breathing the same air, it never felt dangerous.
Riddle also stopped questioning Harry about the future. It made Harry suspect that the whole romancing plot was yet another way of tricking Harry into letting his guard down. After all, he'd only stopped being afraid of Harry's flirting after everyone knew Harry was gay. The stupidly romantic side of Harry argued that Riddle would only make a move if he thought he'd be accepted. That Riddle was afraid of rejection even as Harry teased him.
What Harry hated was that for all his rational side thought that Riddle must be trying to use him, somehow Harry was too afraid to ask him. Too afraid that Riddle's affections might be genuine. Too afraid that they might not be. Harry would rather live in ignorance than deal with that. Ignorance kept him away from Riddle.
And then there was Etienne. The French boy would look at Harry with pity in his eyes and generally treated Harry like someone on his death bed. But at least when Harry was with Etienne he didn't feel the horrible homesickness that engulfed him almost every waking moment. Riddle did nothing to help as all Harry could do was catalogue the differences between the seventeen-year-old and the resurrected Voldemort. Every night Harry wished that he could return home, and ever morning he woke in the wrong Gryffindor boys dorm.
Harry was certain that he was going to go mental pretty soon, if he wasn't already there. He'd tried to absorb himself in his school work, but every two seconds some other thought would come along and distract him. Harry had no idea who to go to for help. The school staff still looked at him with suspicion, waiting for him to do something unforgivable and reveal himself to be Grindelwald's servant. Harry didn't know why they'd never heard of innocent until proven guilty, and wondered how long before they'd look at him like any other student. He scrapped that thought. He wanted to be home before he ever found out.
It was the little things that Harry missed the most. How the house tables were slightly longer. How the posters on the Transfiguration room's walls were arranged. Quidditch practices. His wizard chess pieces. The look on Ron's face when he realised he'd just embarrassed himself. The glint in Hermione's eye before she ran off to the library to research something...
It was all too much. Harry didn't know when or where, but he knew he was going to crack. And he couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop it.
x x x
Harry cracked on a Thursday.
Riddle cornered him outside the greenhouses between Herbology and Defence.
"Hi," he said to Harry.
"Hi," said Harry, unable to say anything else.
Then Riddle had smiled and something about the way the sunlight reflected off Riddle's teeth made Harry feel light-headed or dizzy. He probably used some special sort of teeth potion. Whitens, brightens, and heightens unsuspecting wizards' arousals.
"Hi," said Harry again.
Riddle's hands made their way to Harry's waist, drawing him closer.
Harry found his feet put up no resistance, sliding along the dewy grass easily. His heart pounded so loudly in his ears that Harry had no idea what Riddle was saying. He just watched his thin lips form shapes, revealing and concealing those shiny white teeth and a dexterous, pink tongue.
Then one of Riddle's hands cupped Harry's face and he looked at Harry with what looked alarmingly like concern. Concern was a feeling you could only have if there was humanity left within you.
Harry held onto that and let Riddle lift him. He wrapped his legs around Riddle's waist and draped his arms around Riddle's shoulders. Then he let Riddle kiss him. He let Riddle's lips touch his own. Let Riddle's teeth clack against his. Let Riddle's tongue between his teeth. Let it tangle with his own. He let Riddle take control completely.
It didn't register with Harry that Riddle had taken a couple of steps forward until he felt his back press against the glass of a greenhouse and found himself smothered by Riddle. Harry was intoxicated by Riddle's scent, by the aftershave potion and his own musk. Vaguely Harry wondered why it had taken so long to get to this point. Why he hadn't let this happen earlier. He thought he'd had good reasons before, but surely he wouldn't have if he knew it would be this good.
Harry found himself whimpering and whining when Riddle's mouth detached from his, too far gone to form coherent words. Then the whine turned into a moan and a groan as Riddle licked and sucked on his neck, occasionally biting too. And in between he'd blow cool air so that Harry's neck burned hot and cold, repeated a whispered word.
"My... migh... mine..."
Harry caught the word finally and his eyes flew open (when had they closed?). He wasn't Riddle's. He didn't belong to anyone. He set his feet on the ground and pushed the other boy away. He could barely control his feet, but his flight reflex had him running away from Riddle as fast as he could.
x x x
"Stupid!" Harry yelled at himself. He'd gone straight to the Room of Requirement to try to sort everything out. He was hiding. It was cowardly, Slytherin behaviour, but Harry couldn't help it. He couldn't believe that he'd let Riddle kiss him like that. Touch him like that. That he'd let Riddle think he was giving himself to him. There must have been something in the greenhouses.
He wished twice as hard to go back to his own time where Tom Marvolo Riddle did not exist. Where he was only Voldemort. A Voldemort that Harry was sure he'd never be attracted to the same way that he was attracted to Riddle. Harry was just having trouble reconciling the two, that was all. It had been a problem when he was twelve, too, but he thought he'd gotten over it. Evidently not. Despite the undercurrent of evil in Tom Riddle, Harry had trouble imagining the same boy who picked him flowers was going to turn into the serpentine demon that was Lord Voldemort. The more he got to know Riddle the less he understood of him.
Harry sighed as he leant back on the giant beanbag the room had conjured. Harry wasn't even sure if they existed in this time but magic brought one here and Harry enjoyed his solitude. Actually, that was a lie. Harry hated being alone. He'd had enough of that when he was younger and had no choice. Here too he had no options. He couldn't be completely honest with anyone. All Harry had were his memories. Harry needed his friends, but was afraid of what would happen if he really wished for them.
Instead he wished himself back to his own time. It didn't work. The room remained the same. He slumped back down again.
The easier request for parchment and quill was met and Harry began inking another letter to his friends, informing them of his ridiculous feelings for Riddle. Of how he'd stupidly let Riddle kiss him not once, but twice. Harry poured every single one of his confused thoughts into it, and wished he could at least give his friends his note.
When Harry looked up, there was a wall of mailboxes just like at a muggle post office to his right. Well, thought Harry. It couldn't hurt to post it. He slid the letter into a convenient envelope and addressed it to Ron and Hermione then he took today's date and added fifty-two years to it. With any luck they'd get the letter today via the magic of the room. It was probably asking too much to let them send a reply. He reached into his robes and grabbed the other letter he'd written, addressing it similarly.
Harry made his way over to the mailboxes. There was one for Ronald Bilius Weasley beside Ginevra Molly Weasley. Hermione Jean Granger's was beneath Ron's. Figuring that either slot would do, Harry slid one into each. He wasn't sure exactly what he expected to happen, but the wall of mailboxes disappeared without a sound.
Although there was little chance of a reply, Harry felt better already.
x x x
Over the next week, Harry got really good at avoiding Riddle. It became his number one priority. He skipped half his classes (the ones Riddle had cornered him by before), didn't ever set foot near the greenhouses, and avoided meals in the Great Hall altogether. He'd eat in the kitchens with the house elves before each meal and hole up in his dorm room the rest of the time. He couldn't even use his wand because it reminded him too much of Riddle.
It wasn't long before Harry grew tired of hiding. Barely hanging on to his sanity, Harry really didn't need the accompanying boredom. Harry was beginning to wonder if he'd even be of any use once he got home. Maybe he should give up on the idea altogether. But Harry wasn't ready for that. He couldn't give up hope of leaving the past. While Harry lived he could hope to reclaim his old life. Even if it drove him insane.
One lunchtime, while Harry was eating with the elves, Dippet paid him a visit. Harry took one look at his impassive face and realised that he was in trouble.
"The teachers have reported that you're repeatedly skipping your classes," said Dippet. "You are aware, of course, that you are being allowed to remain at Hogwarts under the condition that you partake in classes."
Harry had forgotten that part of the agreement. "Are you kicking me out then?" Harry couldn't help but feel a little hopeful. Yes, living in a world with no past or identification could be a problem, but Harry would be able to start on working toward finding a means of time travel.
Evidently, Dippet noticed his eagerness. "You are being given a second chance to prove yourself as we don't think you're quite prepared to face the outside world if you are indeed from where you are from."
Harry rolled his eyes discreetly. "Yes sir."
Dippet clearly knew he was being sassed. "There are conditions to being allowed to remain here, Mr James," he said with less patience. "You will have to make up the work you missed in classes over the past week. And you will serve detentions making up the time you missed."
"Yes sir," said Harry. Being here had made him forget the usual consequences of skipping classes. He wasn't as invested in completing his education here as at home. If, Merlin forbid, he completed his NEWTs here and then went home, would they even accept it as a valid qualification? It would be from fifty years in the past in someone else's name.
But Dipper was probably right. Until the war was over, Harry was better off here at Hogwarts.
"And I would like an explanation for your absences," Dippet spoke pointedly. "Thus far we have been treating them as suspicious." The message was clear: tell Dippet or be considered a criminal.
Harry wondered what the best way to tell Dippet was without revealing his relationship to Voldemort in the future. With a jolt, Harry realised that the cause of his problem was a normal teenage one. "You know about my sexuality, sir," began Harry.
"Are the other students still giving you grief? The staff seem to think it has died off."
"Not particularly, sir. I've just been trying to avoid one student in particular. He doesn't seem to take no for an answer."
Dippet immediately grew concerned. Harry guessed he wasn't a completely hopeless teacher in his day. "We don't tolerate any sort of harassment here at Hogwarts. Any member of staff would have been willing to help you."
Harry fidgeted under his gaze.
"But of course you're a teenage boy. You wouldn't dare admit it. What's his name? I'll have a chat with him personally about respecting other students."
Harry wondered if he should lie or admit it was Riddle. Harry supposed that honesty was the best policy wherever possible. He had to tell too many lies. "Tom Riddle, sir."
"The Head Boy?" Dippet seemed more perplexed than outraged. "I never would have guessed." Then he laughed it off as though it couldn't possibly be a problem. "The boy has always been rather persistent, but I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it." He looked at Harry. "And you don't have feelings for him?" That seemed to trouble Dippet the most. He was confused as to why Harry wouldn't be attracted to Riddle, the charming and good looking Head Boy.
"None, sir," Harry managed to say, not entirely pleased with the way Dipper was treating this situation. If he was another student with the same concern he'd probably never tell anyone again. "He's old enough to be my grandfather," added Harry meaningfully, if only to give Dippet a reason.
"Oh," Dippet covered his mouth then gave Harry a once over. "I can see the resemblance. Poor Mr Riddle."
Harry mentally rolled his eyes again. Riddle had the headmaster wrapped around his little finger.
x x x
February 1945
Harry wasn't sure if Dippet ever did speak to Riddle, but Riddle didn't speak to Harry for a long time. Between classes, catching up on assignments, and scrubbing floors with Pringle (who seemed unnaturally appreciative of Harry's company and hard work), Harry didn't have time to think about what Riddle was thinking. The homework tired him out mentally and the scrubbing tired him out physically so that he fell straight into bed and slept almost dreamlessly every night. When his scheduled detentions were over, Harry had half a mind to promise that he'd help Pringle with the floors every day from then on. He didn't, though. He wasn't insane quite yet.
Etienne quickly caught on that Harry didn't want to be left alone so spent many of his spare moments regaling Harry with tales of his little sister and playing various wizard games.
"Do you ever get homesick?" Harry asked one day when they were playing in front of the common room fire. It was still winter and this spot was the most hotly contested one in the common room. They were lucky enough to have been the first ones back from dinner that evening.
"All the time," Etienne said, moving his only remaining knight. "Check."
Harry frowned and moved his king. "I've never felt this homesick before."
"Neither have I," said Etienne as he studied the board. "But then I remember that there's a good reason why I'm here and that it's not permanent."
"Are you going home straight after the war?"
Etienne moved a bishop. "Hopefully. Depending on when it ends and who wins." He shuddered. "At the moment it doesn't look like anyone will ever overpower Grindelwald. And if they do who's to say they won't be worse?"
Harry moved his queen. "Well, it might be over sooner than you think." He blinked at the board and grinned. "In more ways than one. Checkmate."
Etienne groaned as Harry's king dragged off his own. "Do you want to go again?"
Harry didn't, but there were still hours to go before he could contemplate sleep. Wordlessly he began setting up again.
x x x
"You've been avoiding me," Riddle said, cornering Harry outside the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Etienne was still inside speaking to the professor and Harry was waiting for him.
"Who says that us not seeing one another has anything to do with you?" Harry avoided eye contact and warily watched Riddle's hands, ready to bat them away if they landed anywhere near his person. His eyes caught on the flash of the pendant Harry had given him around his neck.
"It's always about me," said Riddle, one of his hands clutching the pendant when he realised Harry's eyes were upon it.
Harry knew it was the truth even as he denied it. "Self-centred much?"
"One day the world will revolved around me. You've said as much."
Harry scowled, upset with himself. Riddle was always ferreting out more information than Harry thought he'd given. "I could always be lying."
"No," said Riddle. "I've figured out the signs of your lies."
"Not everyone's a pathological liar like you are."
"I'll take that as a compliment," said Riddle. He changed the subject, stepping closer to Harry. "Why don't you want to be near me?"
Harry quickly sidestepped him. "I thought the answer to that was pretty obvious."
"Humour me," Riddle said with a grin and matched Harry's step with one of his own. "Enlighten me." Another step closer.
"How about because I know what you become?" Harry stepped away. "I'm not evil, Riddle. I don't get off on the suffering of other people, no matter what sort of blood they have."
Riddle smirked an evil smirk. "You could. Imagine me and you ruling the world side by side. You'd be my queen, Evan."
Harry shuddered at the thought of belonging to Riddle in any shape or form. He was disgusted with himself for not finding the very idea disgusting. "That's disgusting," he said anyway.
"Why would you think that?" Riddle asked. "You're powerful. I can smell it. We're compatible, you and I. I knew it from the moment you landed in my cauldron. I knew we were made for each other."
Harry was full of indecision concerning what to say next. On one hand it was a lie. On the other, he'd already implied as much to Dippet. "We're related." When had he ever cared about lying to Tom Riddle?
Riddle's smirk faltered. He hadn't been expecting that but he recovered soon enough. "Another lie."
"It's why I've been so focused on not being born." Harry tried his hardest to make the lie believable.
"No," Riddle shook his head. "This has to be a lie. You wouldn't tell me anything and now you're volunteering information? You wouldn't."
"Well excuse me for being grossed out that my grandfather is into me."
"I've never had a family before," said Riddle. "But I'm certain I wouldn't feel this way about a son."
Harry shuddered. "Can we stop talking about that?"
"No," Riddle said firmly. "I don't believe you."
"Surely you've noticed we look similar?"
"Because we both have black hair? Blacks and Potters are also known for that particular trait."
Harry almost flinched at the mention of his family, but caught himself in time. It wouldn't do to have Riddle realise which family tree he belonged to. "You've noticed how connected to me you feel."
"And it's not that kind of connection," said Riddle.
Harry had to get Riddle to believe him so he let one more secret out of the bag. "Then why can I speak Parseltongue?" he hissed in the snake language.
"That was English," Riddle hissed in response.
"Was it?" Harry hissed smugly.
"I don't know how you learnt Parseltongue, but I know you can't be my son or grandson or anything else. It's impossible. I had an accident in third year. Nurse Fairweather informed me that I would not be able to have children."
Why was Harry surprised to hear that? He should have guessed with the way everything else was going. Did Dippet know? Was he laughing behind Harry's back this entire time? "A lot can happen in a few years," said Harry. He felt strangely guilty for lying to Riddle like this. It would give him hope when Harry knew he'd never have children. And it mean that he'd never have a family, something Harry knew Riddle secretly wanted and would never have.
Harry was struck with the urge to be a family to Riddle. To love and comfort him in the way only family could... well, now he was his grandson, wasn't he?
Harry hugged Riddle, while making sure to have as little contact with him as possible. "That's why I care about what you become, grandpa." The words almost rolled off his tongue too easily. Harry was starting to realise that if Riddle would be a good person sometimes, he could forgive him for the evil the rest of the time. It wasn't fair.
"Don't say that!" Riddle tore away from Harry. "I know you're lying. I just need to get you to admit it."
Harry scoffed. "Good luck with that."
Etienne exited the classroom and noted the other two boys' warring stances. "Sorry it took so long," he apologised to Harry. "Come on, let's see if there's anything left of dinner." He all but dragged Harry away from Riddle.
"Thanks," Harry said once they were out of earshot.
"You should have gone ahead without me," said Etienne, disapproving.
"I thought I'd be better off waiting for someone to walk with."
Etienne looked at him as though he was an idiot. "Everyone was headed to dinner."
Harry was an idiot. His subconscious probably wanted to run into Riddle. Riddle scared him, but sometimes he scared himself even more.
x x x
The next few days were excruciating for Harry. Riddle had given up on trying to speak to him alone and would start talking about things he shouldn't know anything about in front of Etienne, Mihail and Abe. Every time Harry saw Riddle approaching he'd head him off, which made it hard for the other boys to believe that he didn't like and want to be alone with Riddle. They couldn't understand that there were things that Riddle knew that Harry couldn't tell them.
"I'm going to tell them," Riddle said, finally resorting to blackmail.
Harry sighed. He'd known it would come to this sooner or later. He'd hoped it wouldn't, but Riddle would never consider himself above blackmail. "You can't tell them," he protested half-heartedly.
"You can't always be around them," he said. "One day you'll be in the bathroom, or up in your dorm or five minutes late to dinner-"
"You just don't care, do you? You don't care about the consequences of telling anyone anything. You don't care about what I think or how I feel at all!" Currently, Harry was feeling a little hysterical.
"I don't care for liars."
"But you are one yourself," said Harry.
"I never said I cared much for myself."
There was a look on Riddle's face that tore at Harry's heartstrings. Once again his pesky moral fibre was rearing its ugly head. "You aren't directly related to me," he admitted, unable to maintain eye contact while he said it.
Riddle smiled in triumph. It wasn't a smirk, as though he'd proved he was better than Harry, but a real, honest, genuine smile that meant he was glad that Harry wasn't his grandson. The sort of smile that made Harry want to kiss Riddle forever.
Harry sighed again. He could never do that. He couldn't let himself succumb to Riddle again. Not even for a second. He hugged himself and walked away. Riddle didn't follow, but watched him go.
x X X x
January 1997
One day, Ron and Hermione made their way to the Room of Requirement intent on practising before their next DA meeting. But when the door opened for them, it was obvious that that wasn't really what was on their minds when they'd paced in front of the door. The room had transformed into a sitting room, with comfortable chairs and a coffee table, and a roaring fire.
They looked at each other, wondering whether or not to admit that they were more in need of comfort from one another than anything else. They sat on the couch together, Hermione curled tightly under Ron's arm.
"Some days," said Ron. "I miss him so much more than others."
An owl appeared out of nowhere and dropped a letter on the coffee table right in front of Ron. Another fell in front of Hermione. They both stared.
"What were you thinking of?" asked Hermione, eyeing the two envelopes cautiously.
"I just wanted to hear from Harry," said Ron.
"That's what I was thinking about, too."
As one, they knelt on the ground to get a closer look without touching.
"Ron and Hermione," Hermione read aloud.
"This makes about as much sense as the Christmas presents," said Ron, reaching for the one that had landed in front of him. Hermione smacked his hand away with her wand.
"Just because those were from him, doesn't mean these are." She cast a few revealing spells and found nothing. As an afterthought she checked for bubotuber pus. Nothing again. "Okay," she said. "You can open them now."
"Me?" said Ron.
"You were eager to open them a minute ago."
Ron sighed. He'd have to be a Gryffindor about this. He trusted that the Room wouldn't kill them and opened the first letter. He checked the date and saw the chicken scratch that was Harry's signature at the bottom.
Hermione read it over Ron's shoulder. Ron didn't like what he was reading, but there was too much truth in it to not have been written by someone with Harry's memories if not Harry himself.
"He's definitely gay," said Ron, starting with the easiest thing on his mind.
"We already knew that," said Hermione.
"Well he's told us now," said Ron.
"Voldemort has his wand," said Hermione. "Who knows what could happen to him? Anyone could curse him and he wouldn't have a chance of defending himself!"
"Hermione," said Ron carefully. "He hasn't mentioned anyone but Voldemort. You don't think they could be involved, do you?"
Hermione's look was not comforting to Ron. "Maybe he just hasn't met his future boyfriend yet. He would have told us if he was involved with someone else. You read the letter. He was feeling guilty about not telling us he was gay. He'd be more honest."
"I really hope he's not involved with Voldemort," said Ron. "What does that mean for the war? That it's just some lover's spat?"
Hermione frowned. "Whatever Harry has going on with Tom Riddle it's got nothing to do with the war." She shook her head at Ron. "Let's not jump to conclusions. We've got another letter to open."
Ron's fingers snatched it up quickly, having momentarily forgotten it. Once he'd finished reading it, he dropped his eyes, dismayed. "He's kissed him. They're not together yet but you can see it's only a matter of time."
Hermione took the letter from him, reading it more closely. "He's conflicted," said Hermione. "He had a momentary lapse in judgement. He won't do it again."
Ron shook his head. "He thinks he won't do it again. I want to know. Let's make Dumbledore tell us."
"Ron," said Hermione. "He's the headmaster. We can't make him do anything."
"We'll just ask him, then," he said. "What's the harm in that?"
"Do you really want to know?" asked Hermione. "What if you're right?"
"Then," said Ron. "I'd rather have some time to think about it before I see Harry again."
"He doesn't want us to change our opinion of him. If it's true we have to trust that Harry's got some insight that we don't."
"Or it's not true," said Ron. "Maybe he's only pretending. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that."
"Maybe," said Hermione. But she looked too unsure to Ron. "We should get to practising," she said, changing the subject.
But when nothing in the Room changed, Ron looked at her smugly.
"Fine!" she said. "We'll go and see Dumbledore... if he's even here..."
x x x
After a moment of waiting at Dumbledore's office, the gargoyle moved aside and allowed Ron and Hermione entrance. Ron practically ran full tilt up the stairs. Hermione followed more sedately.
Everything in the room looked exactly as it had the last time they'd been in Professor Dumbledore's office. Exactly the same, except for Dumbledore himself who looked rather worse for wear. Hermione frowned, rather worried about the fate of the world if Dumbledore happened to fall ill.
"Professor!" Ron exclaimed as he burst in.
The shout seemed to startle Dumbledore from his thoughts. "Yes, my boy?"
"We've just received letters," he said. "From Harry."
Hermione sat down. Ron placed the letters on Dumbledore's desk before following suit.
"I see," said Dumbledore, reading over the missives. "These do appear to be genuine," he said once he'd waved his wand over them.
"So it's true then?" said Ron. "When Slughorn mentioned Harry's boyfriend he meant Tom Riddle."
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "That is who Professor Slughorn was referring to."
Ron and Hermione looked at one another, ignoring the veiled reprimand. Harry Potter and Voldemort? Even though they'd had suspicions it was nothing compared with having them confirmed.
"I trust Harry," Hermione said finally. "If he's with Tom Riddle I'm sure he has a reason for it."
"Could You-Know-Who just be stringing him along?" asked Ron. "Or maybe Harry's the one using him... for protection or something."
"There is always a possibility," said Dumbledore. "Although I didn't spend much time with the pair of them, I did think their relationship was based on mutual affection. I did have my suspicions about Tom at the time and think I would have noticed if he was coercing Harry into that relationship. They had their share of arguments but all couples fight," he said, looking at Ron and Hermione pointedly.
"Then maybe," said Hermione. "There's still hope for Voldemort."
"I'm sorry to say, Miss Granger, that it is highly unlikely," said Dumbledore. "His soul has been irreparably damaged and without such it is impossible to love. Perhaps he was closer to whole when he was with Harry, but now..." Dumbledore looked up sadly. "It's too late."
Hermione mulled that over, wondering what Dumbledore wasn't telling them. "So when Harry comes back Voldemort's still going to be the same?"
"I'm afraid so," said the headmaster.
Ron was troubled by all of this talk about Voldemort and Harry and the way their relationship would affect the world. He wanted to change the subject but didn't know where to begin.
"Perhaps," said Dumbledore, sensing Ron's discomfort. "If I showed you what a younger Tom Riddle was like, you might understand him better."
"Is it what you would have shown Harry?" asked Hermione, eager on her quest for more knowledge. "Harry told us about Tom Riddle's parents."
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "And now I'd like to show you my memory of our first meeting." He slid his pensieve onto the desk.
Ron eyed it a little cautiously. He'd never used a pensieve before. "We just lean over and stick our heads in it?"
"Precisely," said Dumbledore. "After you." He gestured toward the stone basin.
Hermione took Ron's hand and bent over the pensieve. Ron found himself being drawn into Dumbledore's memory. The orphanage Dumbledore led them to was neat, though old and shabby. It would have reminded Ron of home if it wasn't so, well, muggle.
They listened to the auburn-haired Dumbledore speaking with Mrs Cole. Hermione found it sad that no one had ever come to claim Tom Riddle. From what Harry had told her, Tom Riddle's father, muggle grandparents, wizarding grandfather and uncle would all still have been alive, could have picked him up and never did.
But Hermione did not like Dumbledore's method of gathering information. She supposed it was a good thing that Dumbledore took such an interest in his students, but couldn't he have stuck to those things Mrs Cole was willing to share? Why was Dumbledore already suspicious of Tom Riddle, an eleven-year-old orphan? Those thoughts were soon swept away by her disgust as Mrs Cole recounted the story of the rabbit and Hermione's imagination ran away with her as she imagined what else young Tom Riddle had done.
Ron and Hermione had never before seen Tom Riddle, and were surprised to see him so normal looking. Despite Ginny and Harry's recollections, they'd both vaguely thought that they would have been able to detect something off about him. That wasn't the case at all. That is, until he opened his mouth. Instead, Tom Riddle was a scrawny, tall, black-haired orphan who rather reminded both of them of a first year Ron and Harry rolled up together, if a little less naive. It was Harry's greatest strength that he managed to hold on to his innocence despite the abuse he suffered from his aunt and uncle, and Voldemort himself.
Ron actually felt sorry for Riddle. The kid seemed so sure that Dumbledore want to take him away to a facility for the deranged. Ron felt less sorry for him when he mentioned doing bad things to people who annoyed him. Ron understood that feeling, after all he'd been picked on by five older brothers and his younger sister all his life. But when he acted upon it, he hardly managed anything more sinister than a dungbomb in the bedroom. That certainly wasn't terrible enough to traumatise anyone.
They watched as Dumbledore tried to teach Tom a lesson about stealing. Hermione suspected he really only learnt how to hide better, and not to trust Dumbledore. It was interesting seeing how someone else reacted to the information Hermione had been given at that same age. Hermione had needed more than a parlour trick performed by Professor McGonagall to prove that magic existed. But once Professor McGonagall had shown her some books she'd been more excited than anything by the world that had just been opened up to her. Tom Riddle seemed to need rather less convincing. Hermione supposed he wasn't blinded by his own intellect.
Then it was all over and they stumbled out of the pensieve together.
"It's easier now," said Ron once he'd sat down. "To believe that Harry sees a person in Tom Riddle. But I can't help thinking Harry's only fooling himself. He can't really be remembering that Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who every time he's with him." Ron was having trouble with the idea that they were the same person and all he'd seen of Tom Riddle was a memory. It must be exponentially hard for Harry when talking to the flesh and blood Riddle.
"Remember," said Dumbledore. "Harry hasn't seen this memory. Anything he knows he's learnt here, or from Tom himself."
"It's naive to think that Harry wouldn't question everything Riddle tells him," said Hermione. "There must be more than just that eleven-year-old with a mean streak."
"He's not just mean," pointed out Ron. "He's very independent... lonely really." Ron had never had to be independent in his life, though he'd often tried to be. He sympathised with that.
"And he likes to collect things and keep secrets, too," said Hermione. "I was summarising."
"Sorry," said Ron, not sorry at all.
"I have rather a lot more I might show you," said Dumbledore. "But it is getting rather late. You'd best be off to bed."
As Ron and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower, they discussed what they'd learned about Riddle, and how that could affect Harry.
"He's got weaknesses," said Hermione. "That's important if Harry wants to defeat him."
"Yeah," said Ron, but as usual he was still thinking about Harry's relationship with him. "Even if Riddle's just trying to manipulate him Harry's falling for him genuinely. So for his sake, I hope Riddle is more human... that he does really like Harry."
"So do I," said Hermione.
"But if Harry really does still like Riddle when he gets back here... I think we might have to get used to having You-Know-Who around. Harry can't kill someone he loves."
"Harry can't kill anyone," said Hermione. "That's not what this is about. But Dumbledore was involved with Grindelwald, you know. That didn't stop him. It's not going to stop Harry."
Ron shivered, suddenly cold in the draughty hallway. He was really glad he wasn't Harry.
x x x
They were back in Dumbledore's office peering into his pensieve again before long. They watched and read between the lines as Morfin Gaunt met Tom Riddle Jr for the first time.
"Would Harry know this?" asked Hermione.
"I doubt Riddle told him," said Ron.
"Sorry," said Hermione and corrected herself. "I meant has the Tom Riddle Harry's just met already killed his father and grandparents?"
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Tom would have begun his seventh year at Hogwarts when Harry arrived in the past."
"So he's already a murderer," said Ron. "And Harry doesn't know."
"He does," said Hermione. "Myrtle, remember?"
But to Ron that murder had always seemed almost accidental. It wasn't a stretch that Harry could be led to think the same. Riddle wouldn't want to risk being sent to Azkaban over it, even if he thought he could escape. Plus he blamed it rather clumsily on Hagrid. This second murder was clearly planned and thought out. The cover up wasn't at all clumsily handled. It was executed quite strategically.
Far from convincing Ron and Hermione that Voldemort should be murdered at their earliest convenience, Dumbledore's memories reminded them that Voldemort was human. He had hopes and dreams and emotions, even if they were forever tinged with darkness. There was no death penalty in muggle Britain so why shouldn't it be the same in their magical counterpart? So far Dumbledore had yet to show them why it was that Voldemort couldn't be redeemed. Instead it taught them to hope. For Harry's sake, mostly, but for their own as well.
"Now," said Dumbledore. "Shortly thereafter, Tom returned to Hogwarts. This is Professor Slughorn's memory of one occasion."
Now there, thought Hermione once they'd left the pensieve, was a Tom Riddle you'd be attracted to. The one who'd met Morfin Gaunt was serious, cold and calculating. This was the charming Tom Riddle. The one who could get you to confess to anything. That was the one Harry would fall for, even if he occasionally saw the other side.
Then Dumbledore asked Ron and Hermione to see if they could find out what Slughorn had tried to hide in his memory.
"I won't do it," said Hermione. "Slughorn has a right to his secrets. I'm not going to manipulate him into giving up information that is unimportant anyway."
Ron was surprised by the strength of her conviction. He knew Hermione was growing to like Professor Slughorn, growing entranced by all the wonders of the world outside Hogwarts that he could show her, and that she often didn't agree with the way that Dumbledore seemed to manipulate everyone. But she was so firm on this point. There would be no dissuading her.
It made Ron love her more to see her like that. This was a path he could agree on. He wasn't so sure about House Elves, but regardless of whether or not he liked Slughorn, he was a professor and a person. He didn't deserve to be tricked into giving up his memories. Made to remember what he clearly considered to be one of his greatest mistakes. He certainly wouldn't be in the same position to ever make it again.
Had Dumbledore only hired Slughorn so that he could find the truth behind the false memory? He was supposed to be their Headmaster, not the one waging a war on Voldemort. That was supposed to be the Ministry's problem. Dumbledore was supposed to be looking out for his students' best interests, and finding appropriate teachers to educate them was part of that. If Dumbledore didn't want that memory would he still have hired back Slughorn? Would he still have made Snape their Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and essentially ensured that he would not return to Hogwarts next year?
"What makes you think the memory is unimportant, Miss Granger?"
"You obviously already know what a horcrux is, and that's all Slughorn told him."
"We cannot know that for certain."
"No, but it's the important part," said Hermione. "Yes it would be nice to know exactly what was said and maybe how many Voldemort made, but Slughorn doesn't know that. What is a horcrux, anyway?"
Dumbledore didn't seem particularly willing to divulge that piece of information now that she hadn't just gone along with whatever he was saying.
Ron spoke up, more than willing to side with his girlfriend even against Dumbledore. "Why did you want us to irritate Professor Slughorn? Surely you don't think we'd succeed where you failed."
"You're right, my boy. I had hoped that Harry would have greater success."
Hermione frowned. It sounded like Dumbledore just wanted to use Harry, and the pair of them in his stead. He wanted to manipulate Harry like a puppet, but worse because Harry wouldn't know his strings were being pulled. "Why don't you tell us about horcruxes, Professor? Maybe if it really is that important we'll give it a shot."
Ron figured that that was unlikely. But Dumbledore seemed to hope they'd agree, and reluctantly explained the concept.
"That's it, then," said Hermione. "You already know that Voldemort made horcruxes- plural."
"There's no recorded instance of any witch or wizard ever splitting their soul into more than two pieces."
"But of course it's possible," said Hermione. "After all, we've already destroyed two."
Dumbledore's eyes glittered. "Astute as ever, Miss Granger." He looked at her with a mixture of pride and sadness.
"I don't get it," said Ron. "When did we destroy two horcruxes?"
"Morfin Gaunt's ring," said Hermione. "Dumbledore had it and now he doesn't."
"And the other?" said Ron.
"Riddle's diary," said Hermione. "What else could be so lifelike?"
Ron shuddered at the thought that his sister had come so close to Voldemort. "So what now?"
"I've told you all that I can," said Dumbledore. "Now we may only hope to find and destroy the remaining horcruxes."
Hermione nodded. "Five more, I think," she said. "He can't have made more than that."
"Why five?" asked Ron.
"If you'd taken Arithmancy you'd know that seven's the most magically powerful number," she said. "Voldemort would have known that."
"It seems likely," said Dumbledore. "But counting his original soul you would only need to find six horcruxes in total."
"Yes," said Hermione, her eyes flashing.
Ron could tell Hermione was eager to get started on solving this next puzzle. He yawned. "I should be getting to bed. Quidditch practice tomorrow."
"You're right," said Hermione. "We should go."
They said their farewells to Dumbledore, then headed toward the Tower.
"I don't think we can trust him anymore," said Ron.
"Not entirely," agreed Hermione. "But we shouldn't let him know that we don't."
Ron nodded. "I can't believe it's come to this... that we're considering siding with You-Know-Who."
"I wouldn't call it siding, exactly," said Hermione. "We're not about to try joining the Death Eaters. We don't want to do any of that."
"True," said Ron. "I guess it's more like we're with the Ministry."
"We would be," Hermione agreed. "If they seemed more competent. It wouldn't be up to Dumbledore to run that side of the war and we'd have nothing to do with it."
The Ministry, thought Ron, had a lot to answer for. "It makes you realise why Dumbledore never agreed to be Minister for Magic," he said.
"Oh?" said Hermione.
"Well he'd have to be a bureaucrat then, wouldn't he? All paperwork and laws. Out here, in Hogwarts, there's no one to watch him."
Hermione shuddered. She hated the idea of not trusting the man who had all the power in this school. It was like last year, with Umbridge. That was worse.
Or was it? At least Umbridge's machinations were all out in the open. Dumbledore was hiding behind a veil of benevolence.
"There is one thing I want to know about Dumbledore," said Hermione.
"What's that?" asked Ron.
"Why it took him so long to defeat Grindelwald."
"You're right," said Ron. "If he was as great as everyone said he was, why couldn't he have done it sooner."
"I think when we know that," said Hermione. "We'll have the key to all of this."
x x x
February 1997
The rest of the month passed without further contact with Dumbledore. It was terribly easy for Ron and Hermione to avoid him when he wasn't even at the school half the time. They were working together trying to figure out what the rest of the horcruxes were, and how to destroy them. It was difficult, because there were no mentions of horcruxes in the Hogwarts library. They were halfway to thinking that perhaps they should leave the horcrux hunting to Dumbledore and instead focus on their moral dilemma: should they even be thinking about destroying Voldemort in the first place? At least now they understood why his soul was irreparably damaged.
It was easier to lose themselves in their Hogwarts-sanctioned activities. They had homework by the truckload, and were learning how to apparate. Ron had Quidditch practices. They both had to keep learning and teaching the DA. The DA had made surprising progress. Malfoy had actually taken the time to teach them a spell.
It was Serpensortia, the snake-conjuring spell he'd tried to use against Harry in their second year. Here it had the desired effect as no one in the room had Harry's gift of Parseltongue. It was a bit chaotic, but Malfoy was surprisingly good at keeping control of everyone's conjured snakes, dispelling them before anyone was bitten. Hermione would go so far as to say that Malfoy enjoyed being part of the group. He often lingered behind after their lessons looking absolutely determined. Hermione guessed he practised for the next class to make sure he remained ahead.
Snape had started to take a more active role in the DA, too. He began insisting that they practise their non-verbal spells. Hermione didn't mind the learning, liking that Snape finally seemed to be behaving like a teacher, not someone who expected you to know everything. And he taught the top defence group (and Ron and Hermione) the art of spell creation, making everyone in the lower groups more determined to succeed, and having other students clamour to join.
Snape's sudden change of heart, however, did surprise Hermione. She wondered if Dumbledore had spoken to him but Snape didn't seem reluctant. That was the biggest difference in his attitude. He seemed to want to teach for once in his life. And because he wanted to teach, the students wanted to learn. This didn't however change his attitude in their regular defence classes. If anything he seemed to expect even more unreasonable things from them in class.
With the time Ron and Hermione's relationship had grown stronger. Hermione didn't know what she'd do without Ron to lighten the atmosphere sometimes. He kept her grounded whenever she felt that there were too many things on her plate. He reminded her that he shared the same goals. They spoke of the future so often they were all but engaged to one another.
The pair of them also spent more time with Neville. He'd taken on some of their DA teaching burden reluctantly, but seemed to have improved in all areas because of it. He felt like he had a place in their circle. The three of them often spent time with Ginny and Luna, too. Their shared experiences set them apart from the rest of the students. The ones who didn't seem to recognise that there was a war outside of Hogwarts' walls.
Without really consulting one another about it, Hermione and Ron had come to conclusion to tell Neville, Ginny and Luna where Harry had gone and about what Dumbledore was expecting them to do. This drew the five of them closer together, and had the unexpected effect of breaking apart Ginny and Dean. He hadn't been able to understand that there were things she couldn't tell him that she could share with Neville and Luna. Dean found himself in the unexpected position of being jealous of Neville Longbottom and Loony Lovegood. And Ron found himself captaining an Quidditch team with Chasers who were now dead set on proving themselves better than each other.
Ron couldn't help thinking the drama was saving itself for later on in the year. This was only the calm before the storm
x X X x
A/N: So let me know if that utterly bored you, and the next chapter should be up... I dunno in a month or so? Let's not get our hopes up.