Chapter 19: A Thing of the Past
Marina shifted on her support leg, finding her balance as she bent the other up to her hip. She inched her leg outwards perpendicular to her body in a slow-motion kick, trying to hold good form as her muscles strained against the slow movement. Outside the windows of her small room at the Leaky Cauldron, snow was falling in a frantic flurry, resting on the rooftops of the shops of Diagon Alley. It was a few days before Christmas and the cold had encroached in her room enough to inspire her to exercise just to keep warm.
Marina held the position as long as she could before her support leg starting trembling and the strain became near unbearable. She retracted her kick just as slowly, fighting to keep control of her body and keep the movement smooth. Before she could repeat the exercise on the other side, a tap at her window made her look around. A tawny owl flapped at the glass, rapping its beak impatiently as a scroll dangled from its leg. Marina hurried over, wiping sweat off her brow and shaking out her legs as she went. The owl gratefully swooped inside from the cold, immediately coming to a rest on the rail of her bed. She chuckled when it held its little leg out for her to take the letter – it was a strange parallel of what she'd just been doing. After she untied the letter, the owl settled into its feathers, unwilling to return to the snow so soon.
Marina gave its head a little pat as she broke the wax seal on the scroll and smoothed it out.
Marina,
I hope this note finds you much recovered. Please meet me at my office at 5 o'clock tonight before our meeting with Albus – if you intend to join us, of course. I wish to discuss some matters with you in private.
Yours sincerely,
Minerva McGonagall
Marina's eyes lingered on the mentioning of the meeting with Dumbledore; since her discharge from St Mungo's she'd not heard from him, nor had she attended the meetings. Unlike the last time, she didn't mind his silence as she'd expressly told him that she didn't want to talk. Despite her turbulent feelings towards him, she begrudgingly appreciated that he was respecting her wishes.
She sighed, rolling up the note and placing it on her dresser as she lifted her other leg to balance out her exercise. She had an inkling as to what McGonagall wanted to talk about – Marina's clash with Dumbledore was hardly private knowledge. It wasn't like the others hadn't tried to talk her out of it already; less than a week out of St Mungo's, Remus had taken her out for a meal during which he'd repeatedly mentioned how Dumbledore was concerned about her and hoped that she'd write. Marina had candidly ignored these attempts and he'd given up, not one for striking conflict between the two of them where none already existed.
Moody had given a very different approach, alerting her to his impending visit by owl, arriving exactly on the dot, and launching straight into the conversation with the standard lack of pleasantries that she'd grown to expect from him. Marina actually appreciated this approach significantly more than Remus' simply because she liked straightforwardness. Moody's frank inquisition allowed her to be equally candid back without fear of offense or jeopardisation of her relationship with Moody himself. But however different their attempts had been, neither succeeded in changing her feelings – feelings that she realised she'd have to reiterate again for McGonagall that evening.
Marina's screaming muscles yanked her back to the present and she struggled to keep smooth control as she lowered her leg. Sighing deeply, she dropped to the floor to hold a plank.
Right as she'd lifted herself up onto her forearms her door unceremoniously swung open and Riddle walked in and dropped his bag heavily beside her dresser. He turned and shut the door harder than was strictly necessary. The owl on her bed ruffled its feathers indignantly.
"You seem in a good mood," she said to the floorboards beneath her face.
"What are you doing on the floor?" he said very disapprovingly.
"It's an exercise," she replied patiently, "makes your abs work."
"Oh," Riddle said disinterestedly.
"What's wrong with you, then?" Marina asked.
"Flourish and Blotts said no, too," he said tensely, beginning to pace her small room.
It was surprising enough for her to look up at him. "Are you serious?"
His expression said it all. She gave a disbelieving whistle. "How can a Muggle get a job in two magical shops, but you can't even land an interview?"
"You had Dumbledore vouching for you," Riddle said irately, "and they say it's because I haven't technically graduated from Hogwarts yet." He sounded very annoyed.
"I can't believe he won't help you out," Marina muttered, shaking her head.
"You know why he won't," said Riddle testily, still pacing.
Marina grimaced. While he had been given his class curriculum, Riddle was still largely unoccupied during the long days between Horcrux hunts. Having a job would give him something to do, but it also allowed him access to people, information, and money that Dumbledore couldn't monitor. Considering that Dumbledore still kept Riddle's diary on his desk at all times and had continued to refuse Riddle's requests to talk to Myrtle, Marina wasn't exactly surprised that Dumbledore was unwilling to help Riddle find a job.
"Maybe we can talk to him about it at the meeting tonight," said Marina as her stomach began to ache from the strain of the plank.
Riddle stopped pacing. "You're going to come?"
Marina shifted on her forearms as the floorboards cut a bit painfully into her skin. "Yeah, I think it's time," she mumbled.
"Did something happen?" he asked perceptively.
Marina gestured with one arm at her dresser where the note sat. She heard Riddle pick it up and unfold it.
"I think she wants to convince me to talk to Dumbledore," she said, wincing as the strain in her stomach built. "It'll be interesting to see what she has to say."
Curiously, Riddle hadn't responded. Marina let herself collapse onto the floor and let out a long breath as the exertion ebbed away. After a moment of blissful rest, she pushed herself up and sat back on her shins. She looked over at where Riddle still stood reading the note – he had a strange expression on his face.
"What's up?" Marina frowned.
Riddle seemed to be jerked from his thoughts. He quickly put down the note. "Nothing," he said casually, turning to her.
She raised her eyebrows at him, unconvinced. His composure didn't falter and after a moment she rolled her eyes with a sigh. "Alright, keep your secrets."
"I will," he said delicately, lifting his bag from the floor. "Anyway, I should get back. Moody's waiting for me downstairs and I have to finish my Arithmancy essay."
"Nerd," she said, extending her arms above her head to stretch out her sore stomach muscles. "Do you want me to edit again?"
"Okay," he said, opening the door. "I'll give it to you after the meeting."
"See you later," Marina said, squinting as the stretch pulled painfully at her side.
He left without another word and Marina listened to his descending footsteps on the staircase outside her room. Her thoughts and feelings seemed to be a tangled mess in her head that she couldn't begin to unpick. She sighed again and glanced at the clock on the wall – it was just past three. Thinking that she should probably eat something before she went to see McGonagall, Marina stood and grabbed her jumper and opened the window to let the owl finally - and reluctantly - return to the outside world. The pea soup at the bar downstairs was calling her name.
At 5 o'clock Marina stepped through the fireplace at the Leakey Cauldron and into McGonagall's warmly lit office with a cough at the swirling ash that followed her through.
"Ah, Marina," said the witch from behind her book-laden desk. "You're right on time."
It was the first time that Marina had seen the witch in over three months. She looked completely unchanged, dressed in a wide-brimmed pointed hat and deep green robes that looked near black in the flickering candlelight and the glow of the fireplace. Seeing her made Marina feel strangely reassured – after the chaos of the interim between their meetings, McGonagall's familiar appearance felt like a small breath of stability.
"Please sit," McGonagall said, gesturing lightly to the empty chair before her.
Marina did so, feeling like a student about to get in trouble.
"Biscuit?" McGonagall asked, holding out a tin of gingerbread cookies that were cut to look like Christmas trees.
Marina's stomach sank. "Thank you," she said as she took one, fighting back memories of Shpatena.
McGonagall summoned two cups of tea from thin air and Marina took hers gratefully and took a sip, not asking how McGonagall knew how she liked her tea.
"I wish to talk to you about something of a… delicate nature," McGonagall began, sipping her own tea. "But before I begin, I would like to say how good it is to see you again. It has been far too long."
"Well, that wasn't really my decision," Marina muttered, dipping the Christmas tree peak first into the tea.
"We will come to that," McGonagall said pointedly. "However, since I saw you last you have established a new life for yourself, fought back a magical assailant bare-handed, withstood another foray with time-travel, and helped Tom regain another piece of his soul. It would be greatly remiss for me to not offer you my sincerest commendation."
"Thanks," Marina said uncomfortably around a bite of her Christmas tree. "It sounds more impressive when you list it like that, honestly it was a bit of a shambles at the time."
McGonagall gave her a hard look like she disapproved of her shirking the compliment. "This leads me to why I asked you here," she said deftly. "It has come to my attention that you are… unhappy."
Marina's eyes flashed up like she'd been caught in headlights.
"Is this correct?" McGonagall continued, holding her gaze.
Marina's thoughts were racing. There was something weirdly embarrassing about McGonagall bringing it up and she fought the impulse to deny it and act like everything was fine. "I… suppose you could say that," Marina said slowly.
McGonagall gave a slow nod. "I am also aware that being isolated has been hard on you."
"How do you know this? Did Dumbledore say something?" Marina asked, feeling exposed.
"No," McGonagall said softly. "Not Dumbledore."
She looked at Marina pointedly, like it should be obvious. Marina stared back, not understanding.
"Remus? Moody?"
McGonagall shook her head. "Tom came to speak with me after you were discharged."
"Tom?" Marina gaped.
"I was as surprised as you," admitted McGonagall, sipping her tea. "But I am glad he did so." She sighed heavily. "Albus is an excellent leader and strategist chiefly because he is capable of seeing the bigger picture, but I am the first to admit that this quality has its downsides," McGonagall nodded towards Marina. "Which you have felt yourself. He is occasionally prone to overlooking the impact his actions have on the individual."
Marina scowled. "I don't want to talk about Dumbledore," she said, looking at her cup. "Everyone keeps trying to convince me to forget about everything."
"With good intentions, I am sure," McGonagall said swiftly. "However, I believe that they have failed to explain why Albus acted as he did."
"What do you mean?" Marina asked slowly, unable to deny that her attention had been piqued.
"You are aware that Albus is concerned about the degree of influence Tom has over you," McGonagall began, "but I believe that you remain ignorant of his concerns that Tom is growing dependent on you."
Marina felt a frown crease her face. "Dependent?"
"After the both of you refused to discuss what happened in 1948, Albus grew wary of the possibility that Tom would grow close with you at the expense of opening up to others," McGonagall explained. "Separating you and Tom was his way of encouraging Tom to rely on myself, Remus, and Alastor more, both for Tom's and your own benefit."
Marina felt flummoxed. The explanation, horribly, made a decent amount of sense. "He didn't have to leave me with no one," she said weakly.
"No," McGonagall agreed with pursed lips. "He did not. That, I will admit, was an oversight of his. However, one could say that it speaks to his faith that you would be able to establish yourself independently."
Marina resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I don't think I'll take it as a compliment," she said dryly, "but I see your point."
"All I wish to say is that you should speak to Albus about this," McGonagall said diplomatically. "I understand that you're hurt, but we cannot continue as a fractured team."
Marina felt conflicted - she swallowed hard.
"You may speak freely, Marina," McGonagall said softly.
Marina took a deep breath and held it a long moment to calm herself before letting it out slowly. "Everyone acts like I'm only here for one thing," she said quietly, "and that's this plan. As soon as I stop being useful, it's like I get dropped on the spot. I – I'm not allowed to be upset," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "Because if I am, then I'm jeopardising the whole plan, and that's selfish. But I can't help feeling like this," Marina's voice trembled.
"You have been given a monumental task," McGonagall said quietly. "It is understandable that it is taking its toll."
"Sometimes I just want to go home," Marina breathed, the confession coming out of her before she could stop it. "I just want to leave all of this behind and go back to my old life. Even though I can't remember most of it, I know that I was living for myself. I had goals, a direction, I was working towards something – now, I just live for this bloody plan. My whole life revolves around it." Tears budded in Marina's eyes, but she couldn't stop talking. "And whenever I manage to build something for myself here, I have to just drop it all when Dumbledore asks to go be there for Riddle." She looked up at McGonagall in alarm. "I'm not saying that I don't want to help him," she said quickly, "I know that's more important than all this, I just mean that –"
"I understand what you are saying," McGonagall said quietly. "You feel like you have lost the right to your own life."
Hearing her say it felt like some build-up of long-ignored pressure in Marina's heart had been punctured, and she deflated before McGonagall as the tears spilled over. She nodded silently, not trusting her voice to stay level.
McGonagall offered her a box of tissues and Marina took one gratefully. As she wiped away her tears, McGonagall spoke. "Your feelings are very natural; it is not selfish to long for a life that fulfils your own desires. That you have been removed from such a life is no mean feat." McGonagall paused thoughtfully. "Though we must all make sacrifices in these circumstances, I can see that this has been particularly hard on you."
Marina just stared down at her tea.
"That is without accounting for what you have experienced through your journeys with Tom," McGonagall said delicately. "I think it is evident that you are grieving, Marina."
Marina pressed her lips together, trying to hold back tears. The faces of the Albanian family that had sheltered them from the storm swam before her eyes.
McGonagall's clock gave a delicate chime.
"We must be heading upstairs," McGonagall said softly, setting her cup down.
Marina stood quickly, placing her cup next to McGonagall's. Before she could turn for the door, McGonagall stopped her.
"Marina," she said with surprising gentleness. "Would you like to come back tomorrow? To continue this conversation?"
Marina stared at her. She nodded, feeling emotion push against her throat.
"Would you like to come more regularly? My office is always open to you, should you need someone to talk to," McGonagall said sincerely, standing.
Marina nodded again. "That – that would be really nice," she said, forcing her voice to stay even.
McGonagall nodded, giving the slightest, near imperceptible smile. "Good. And rest assured, whatever you wish to discuss will remain confidential, should you wish it."
"Thanks," Marina whispered.
"Now," McGonagall said, picking up her wand from her desk and walking to the door formally. "We are needed at the Headmaster's office. After you," she opened the door and stood to let Marina pass.
Marina gave her a smile as she passed, hoping that somehow it could convey the feelings in her chest that she couldn't begin to put into words. They made their way to Dumbledore's office in companionable silence that gave Marina enough time to compose herself. McGonagall banished the giant stone gargoyle with a curt "Ice Mice," and when they entered the eclectic office, they were the last to arrive. Moody was sitting next to Riddle, both of them leaning forward in conversation. Remus was standing beside Fawkes' stand, and Dumbledore sat at his desk looking pensive.
"Come in," Dumbledore said warmly to the both of them. "I am so glad you decided to join us, Marina."
Marina took her seat next to Riddle silently, uncomfortable with the attention of the room.
"Let's begin," Dumbledore said, lacing his fingers together. "We have news that Lucius Malfoy has attempted to access the records of St Mungo's after hearing about your repeated admittance there, Marina. He remains, to the best of our knowledge, ignorant of both Tom's existence and true identity. We can only assume that he believes that you are being consumed by the diary, resulting in your admittance."
"He doesn't know about Tom?" Remus asked, clearly surprised.
Dumbledore shook his head. "Voldemort's nature is not trusting – I do not think he would have explained to Lucius the true nature of the diary. Marina has explained that originally he targeted an unsuspecting student with the diary, knowing only that it would amount to the Chamber of Secrets being opened."
"So he thinks that whatever the diary does, it's doing it to me, and it's landing me in hospital rather than opening the Chamber?" Marina asked.
"I imagine he is most anxious to retrieve the diary and attempt to carry out Voldemort's wishes as if he never lost it," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.
"What can we do about him?" McGonagall asked, looking terse. "We can hardly have Lucius hunting after Marina."
"No," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "What do you propose?"
Next to Marina, Moody's electric blue eye flew into motion, roaming over Riddle as if in thought. "An idea did occur to me," Moody growled. "Though I'm not sure you'll like it."
"By all means," Dumbledore gave a cordial wave of his hand.
"We let him have the diary," Moody said simply.
All eyes turned to Moody.
"What?" Riddle said sharply.
Moody kept addressing Dumbledore, ignoring the scrutiny of the room. "You said that Malfoy doesn't know what's so special about the diary," he said gruffly. "If we sever Riddle's connection with it, he'll be none the wiser that anything's different should he get his hands on it again. Gets him off our backs, doesn't it?"
A swoop went through Marina's stomach. She looked back to Dumbledore with bated breath.
Dumbledore was looking at Moody with deep interest. "You believe that this is the best course of action, Alastor?" he asked in a quiet but intense voice.
Both of Moody's eyes now assessed Riddle, who stared back with an inscrutable emotion on his face. "Yes," he said, brusquely. "I think we can handle the boy without the diary."
Marina held her breath for Dumbledore's reply. The air seemed electrified.
"Having been living with Tom for some time now, I believe that I must trust your assessment," said Dumbledore evenly. "Minerva – perhaps you could arrange with Tom some supervised visits with Myrtle Warren?"
Marina could barely believe what she was hearing. As McGonagall agreed, she shared a look with Riddle that told her that he felt much the same.
"If that indeed severs Tom's connection with the diary, I trust that you could find a way for Lucius to retrieve it through convincing circumstances, Alastor?" Dumbledore said, eyes still alight with intensity.
"I'll make sure he finds it," Moody said darkly. "Merlin knows we've been on enough raids through that manor of his to warrant the return of a few objects that turned up nothing…"
"Excellent," Dumbledore said lightly, eyes briefly assessing Riddle. "If we are correct in our predictions and this allows you to become independent from the diary, I cannot say that it will be an experience akin to what occurred in London or Albania, Tom," he said, "but can I assume that you are up to the task?"
"Yes," Riddle said immediately.
Dumbledore's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I hope that you fully understand this vote of confidence, Tom," he said in a dangerous tone, "now that both Alastor and Marina have urged me to grant you autonomy from the diary, squandering it would be an affront to them personally."
"I understand," Riddle said in a clipped tone. "I have no intention of running back to Voldemort, Dumbledore."
They were looking at each other very intensely, like each was waiting for the other to falter.
"Very well," Dumbledore said finally, still holding Riddle's gaze. "Then we can move on." He finally turned his attention back to the rest of the group. "There is another matter to discuss tonight." Dumbledore's eyes fell on Marina that sparked a cocktail of apprehension, nerves, and anticipation in her chest. "I have wished to discuss the attack on you in Albania for some time."
"Oh," said Marina, taken aback. "Why?"
"You were victim to the unsavoury prejudices of a particularly isolated community of wizards who are yet to reform their opinions with the times," Dumbledore said smoothly.
Marina scoffed. "Right, because Muggle prejudice is a thing of the past," she said sarcastically.
"What I mean to say," Dumbledore continued pointedly, looking at her over his spectacles, "is that I wish to extend my sincerest apologies that you were exposed to such an ugly ideology."
"Thanks," Marina said, his intensity making her feel slightly uncomfortable. "I didn't take it to heart, if that's what you're worried about."
"Nor should you have," he replied, warmth creeping into his voice. "And I hope that you do not consider it a reflection of how the majority of the magical world feels. Unfortunately, the most hateful voices tend to be the loudest and most unavoidable…"
"Well," Marina said reasonably, "maybe the less hateful voices should speak up."
"If you mean to say that you think we should have helped more –" Remus began.
"No," Marina waved her hand, "no I was fine. I just mean that over the next few years –"
"Proceed carefully, Marina," Dumbledore warned.
She nodded at him and continued, confident that what she had to say wasn't specific enough to endanger anything. "Over the next few years, anti-Muggle-born and anti-Muggle rhetoric gets pretty popular. Sitting quietly and letting hateful voices do the talking doesn't do much good."
Riddle shifted ever so slightly uneasily in his seat, drawing her ire. "Did something I say make you uncomfortable, Riddle?" she asked coolly.
He gave her an annoyed look. "No," he said tensely, his eyes flicking pointedly towards Dumbledore.
She took the hint. "Hmm," she said, turning away from him unapologetically. She didn't mind that Dumbledore was watching their interaction intently – if anything, it was good if he saw that she was capable of criticising Riddle.
"If that is all," Dumbledore said, still observing Marina and Riddle, "I believe that is everything."
McGonagall stood immediately. "Thank you Albus, I must return to my marking." She looked at Marina and gave her a slight nod before leaving. Marina watched her go, appreciating that she had made no mention of their earlier meeting, nor their intention to have another.
"I must get back, too," Remus said tiredly. "Tomorrow is the full moon and I must… prepare." He stepped towards the fireplace, stopping momentarily by Marina's chair.
"Marina," he began, a guilty look on his face. "I'm sorry that I didn't –"
She held up her hand to interrupt him. "Honestly Remus, it's fine," she said, "you can't take responsibility for other people being stupid. And really, I was fine. If you guys hadn't gotten me out of there so quickly, I'm sure things would have gotten much worse."
He nodded, but his expression hadn't changed. He stepped away through the fireplace before Marina could say more.
"We better head off," Moody said in his gravelly voice, standing and clapping Riddle on the shoulder.
"Wait a moment," Riddle said suddenly. He drew a scroll of parchment from his bag and looked towards Marina as if asking permission to give it to her.
She sighed and held out her hand. "You're lucky I'm so benevolent," she said in mock sternness.
He gave a very small smile. "Last time – the thing you did with the wording of my conclusion –"
"Yeah, yeah, I'll do it again," she said, taking the parchment and giving it a cursory glance. "Man, I wish all students wrote like you, Riddle – some exam papers I've marked before, honestly you'd think they'd taped a pen to a branch and let the wind do all the work."
"I'll pick it up tomorrow?" Riddle asked as Moody prompted him to the fireplace.
"My break is at one," Marina called, casting her attention over his introduction as she stood. "Stop using the word 'zenith' Riddle, no one uses the word 'zenith!'"
The roar of the fireplace alerted her of their exit, and she looked up at Dumbledore to say goodbye herself.
"Marina," Dumbledore said quite pleasantly, leaning back in his chair. "Would you be willing to stay a moment?"
Marina stared, letting Riddle's essay roll back up on itself. "Sure," she said slowly, sitting again. "What's up?"
He cast his x-ray gaze across her, and she felt the goosebumps spring up on her forearms. "We are long overdue for a conversation, are we not?" he said in his even, inscrutable voice. "So, let us talk – tell me, what have I done to lose your trust?"