I bet you thought you wouldn't be seeing an update for a while. :) Hehe. The chapter after this one is where, um, things really start to hit the fan. I'm so excited to write that one!
I think all of your ideas about creating a Horcrux are excellent. My personal theory is that, in order to completely split the soul, one would need to actually tear it apart. The Dementor's Kiss sucks the soul out of the victim's mouth, so perhaps if one were to make a Horcrux, a piece of their soul would come out of their mouth as well. So they would literally vomit up a part of their soul. It would obviously be very bloody and not a very pleasant experience, to say the least...anyway, that's just my headcanon, until JKR states otherwise!
To Danielle's enormous relief, Tom had already left the hospital wing when she walked in. She figured he was either in the library or had started Prefect duty. Too bad I can't make it tonight, she thought dryly. At least he knows I'm up here.
"Mr Riddle left about ten minutes ago, if that's what you're here for," Madam Cutteridge said when she spotted Danielle.
"Actually, I'm here for myself," Danielle replied. "I've been feeling ill for the past couple of months and I don't know why."
After giving her a quick once-over the matron made a disapproving noise. "You have lost weight," she admitted, "And you're very pale. Could it be stress?"
"Maybe," Danielle answered. "But I've been under worse stress and I haven't reacted like this. I've just been really dizzy and feeling weak. I feel like I'm going to faint at least once a day. Nobody seems to know what it is, and…it's scaring me."
Madam Cutteridge looked solemn. "I can take a blood sample and that should give us an idea," she said. Danielle nodded and rolled up the sleeve of her robes. The matron muttered a spell and she winced slightly as a small cut appeared on her arm. A bottle was Summoned over and several droplets of blood were poured into it. With another simple charm Danielle's arm was completely healed, leaving only smooth skin behind.
While she waited for the results, Danielle walked over to the window and stared out at the deserted, snowy grounds, absent-mindedly rubbing her arm. She wished Madam Cutteridge had some kind of numbing potion. She'd had enough of it—enough of trauma, enough of worry, enough of that pull, the exquisite pain that stabbed her soul whenever she looked at Tom—and right now she was thinking that numbness would be preferable to the agonizing excess of emotions that were currently swirling up in her heart.
Danielle was only half-surprised by the results of the test. Madam Cutteridge took two blood samples, just to be sure, but it came up negative both times. It detected absolutely nothing wrong with her. She should be healthy, by all accounts. The matron said that she could contact St Mungo's if she wanted to look deeper into the matter, but Danielle refused: it was obvious that the matron thought she was simply suffering from a bad case of anxiety. She knew Madam Cutteridge—and St Mungo's—wouldn't be any help.
That brought her to her last option. But Dumbledore's office door was closed, and as Danielle paused in front of it she heard a voice she instantly recognized speaking excitedly about something. Georgina. What was she doing with Dumbledore? Danielle felt an irrational pang of jealousy. Dumbledore's office had been her safe place. He was supposed to be helping her, not some other girl. What could possibly be so important that he would want to privately talk to her? He certainly hadn't gone out of his way to speak to Erik or Skender.
As she turned away from the door in anger, she came face-to-face with Erik himself, who was standing just behind her. "Hi, Clara!" he said enthusiastically. "How was your Christmas?"
"Fine, thanks," Danielle said, plastering on a false smile. "How are you doing?"
"I lost my Divination essay somewhere around here," Erik said sadly. "I must have dropped the parchment after class."
He looked so dejected that Danielle couldn't help but feel sorry for him. "Here, I'll help," she offered. "Have you tried casting a Summoning Charm?"
"It didn't work," Erik said glumly. "It's fine, Clara." He dropped to his hands and knees to search under a table, and after a moment Danielle started to help despite his protests.
They were unsuccessful, however, and after half an hour she was forced to conclude that someone must have stolen the parchment, probably so they could pass it off as their own. Danielle sighed and gave Erik a pitying look. "I'm sorry," she told him.
"No, really, don't be," Erik assured her. "I'm just so grateful you actually helped—ahhh!" He whirled around as Tom emerged from the shadows across the hall. Danielle rolled her eyes—he'd probably been watching them for the past thirty minutes.
"Good evening, Mr Dahl," Tom said quietly. "I found this on the fourth floor." He pulled out a piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to Erik. The younger boy took it, stuttering his thanks.
"Someone pushed me and I guess it fell out of my bag when I tripped," he said ashamedly. "I'll be more careful next time."
"Who pushed you?" Danielle asked.
"That transfer student from Ravenclaw. Skender," Erik replied, the tips of his ears turning red in embarrassment. "I don't think he likes me very much."
"So he knocked you over?" Danielle said, frowning. "I'll have a talk with him, then." She began to think of ways she could sneak into the Ravenclaw dormitory and hex him when he wasn't expecting it.
"Listen, Clara," Erik began, not meeting her eyes, "I've been thinking about it and…I was wondering if you wanted to, er, go to the dance with me."
Danielle winced and glanced over at Tom. As usual, his face was perfectly impassive. "I'm sorry, Erik, but I already have a date," she said gently.
"Oh," Erik looked over at Tom. "It's fine. I guess Prefects like to go with Prefects."
"Actually, I'm going with Dylan MacDougal," Danielle admitted. "I'm sorry." She didn't miss the momentary flash of annoyance in Tom's eyes.
Seeming to sense the sudden tension in the air, Erik squeaked, "That's fine. Thank you for helping anyway!" and scuttled off, leaving Danielle to deal with Tom.
"I'm sorry," she said to him. "I thought you didn't want to go to the dance…"
"And you are correct." Tom cut her off before she could mutter another feeble excuse. "However, I would appreciate if you were not so quick to jump to conclusions."
Danielle stared blankly at him, confused. Could he possibly be jealous? Before she could ask, he abruptly changed the subject. "What did Madam Cutteridge say?"
"I'm fine," she mumbled.
"But you are not fine," he replied curtly.
"I was going to go to the library and look for some healing books." But she realized as she said it that it was past ten o'clock and the library would be closed. Danielle had a feeling she wouldn't be able to get to sleep that night, so she announced, "I'll look through the books in the Prefects' common room, then."
As they walked through the silent castle, Tom easily keeping pace with her, Danielle blurted, "Do you think that maybe…maybe Skender is a spy for Grindelwald?"
Momentary surprise crossed his face before his expression smoothed out again. "It could be possible…" Tom said slowly.
"If what Myrtle was saying is true, he was searching for something near the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. If he was reporting back its location to Grindelwald, we could be in a lot of trouble," Danielle continued. "Then again, Dumbledore seemed to think he was just lost…"
"Dumbledore believes that everyone is a saint," Tom said sharply. "I would not take his word for this."
Danielle hated to admit it, but she had to agree he was probably correct. Dumbledore trusted and forgave far too easily.
"I will look into it," Tom finally said. "It should be easy enough to deduce."
They soon reached the secret entrance to the common room (ironically enough, using the same passageway he had showed her on her very first day at Hogwarts). Luckily, none of the other Prefects were around. Tom worked on a History of Magic essay while Danielle scoured the bookshelves, looking for one on mysterious illnesses. When she found one that looked promising (A Concise List of Magical Ailments and Remedies), she pulled it off the shelf and sat down, hoping that she would find an answer in there.
At first, she and Tom were sitting on opposite ends of the couch, but as time wore on the room grew steadily darker until there were shadows dancing across the floor and the flames in the fireplace were burning their last embers. Danielle felt a sudden chill, and she moved closer to Tom.
"You are freezing, Clara," he admonished her as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"I'm c—cold," she mumbled, feeling a violent shiver rack through her body.
Tom gave her an incredulous look, but at least he didn't push her away. Seeing that the book was no help (how was it possible to list every single magic-related disease in one volume?), Danielle lobbed it across the room. It hit one of the shelves and landed on the floor with a loud smack, causing ten more books to fall in a pile on top of it.
Danielle felt Tom's exasperated sigh against her head, and grinned in spite of herself. They sat in silence for another moment before she abruptly asked, "Are you jealous?"
"Of what?"
"That Dylan and I are going to the dance together."
Tom's mouth twisted upward in a smirk. "What do I have to possibly be…jealous about?" he asked.
Danielle's brow furrowed in bewilderment. Did he mean that as an insult? She opened her mouth to ask him but dissolved in a fit of coughing instead. When the convulsions subsided and her head stopped spinning she said hoarsely, "I think I'm turning into you. Is the curse contagious?"
Tom didn't reply—he just stared at the opposite wall with a blank expression. Danielle closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she had a feeling it wouldn't come so easily for her tonight.
Georgina was just leaving Dumbledore's office when she nearly ran into Tom Riddle walking past her. He gave her a curt nod. "Miss Taylor," he greeted politely.
"Mr Riddle," she mocked, jogging up beside him. "What are you doing skulking around this late at night?"
"With all due respect, Miss Taylor, I believe I should be asking you that question," he said, giving her the penetrating stare that made her wonder how Clara could keep eye contact with him for more than three seconds.
"I was just speaking to Professor Dumbledore," she said. "Therefore, I have a justifiable reason for being out of my dormitory at this hour." Riddle smiled blandly at her, but she could tell she was the last thing his mind was on. "Listen," Georgina began, "I think I'm lost. I—I can't remember where Gryffindor Tower is."
He stopped at the entrance to the hospital wing. "Well, Miss Taylor, I would be more than happy to show you the way if you would wait here for a minute," Tom said. Georgina nodded as he disappeared into the room, only to come back out moments later with a familiar potion.
"Getting a Strengthening Solution for Clara?" she asked.
Tom narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that?"
"Oh, come on," Georgina said lightly. "Anyone can tell that she's ill."
He didn't answer, merely slipping the bottle into his robes. "So," Georgina continued, "you know that she's going to the Valentine's Day dance with Dylan MacDougal, right?"
He nodded tersely. "Since she's unavailable, would you go with me instead?"
Tom's eyes widened a fraction. "With you?" he repeated.
"Yes," Georgina answered. "Neither of us have a date, and the teachers would be delighted if a Gryffindor and a Slytherin went together. Come on, Riddle. If you want to keep an eye on Clara, it would give you the perfect excuse."
Tom considered her coldly, the intensity of his gaze almost making her wish she hadn't asked. After a long silence, he said, "Fine."
Georgina smirked triumphantly.