Chapter 29: The Shiver and the Flint

As Marina stared at Mr Weasley's outstretched wand and hardened expression, her whole body seemed to oscillate between disbelieving irritation and bone-deep exhaustion. It took her a moment to notice that Mr Weasley was not the only other person in the room; Mrs Weasley was standing right behind him, her face wrought with confliction and her wand at her side. Mrs Weasley's attention was visibly torn between Marina's gruesome condition and keeping a wary eye on Tom. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her brow creased as she looked between the two.

"Now," commanded Mr Weasley, voice low and dangerous, his wand hovering at Tom's chest.

"Wait a second," Marina said blearily, holding up a hand to Mr Weasley, "just listen –"

"No!" Arthur said loudly, stepping forward in agitation, his wand growing closer to Tom's throat. "He's had enough chances! He's been at You-Know-Who's side for months – don't think I haven't heard the rumours about You-Know-Who's heir!"

"Marina," said Mrs Weasley fearfully as she gestured for her. "Come here, dear."

Marina hesitated, looking back at Tom. He had gone completely still, eyes fixed on the point of Mr Weasley's wand. Marina could not help but notice that while he had allowed the muddy shovel to drop from his grasp, he had conspicuously managed to keep his own wand in hand. She swallowed hard.

"I said, on your feet," said Mr Weasley resolutely, not taking his eyes off Tom.

"Marina," Mrs Weasley repeated breathlessly, clearly anticipating the worst.

"Go," Tom said lowly, glancing at Marina.

She held his gaze a moment, trying to read what he intended to do – but Tom's tense expression conveyed nothing. Marina grit her teeth and nodded slowly, pushing herself up and immediately faltering as her weakened body gave out underneath her.

In a flash, both Tom and Mrs Weasley were at her side helping her stand. Mr Weasley looked like he might say something at Tom's sudden movement, but he pressed his lips together and resolved instead to track his wand on Tom's heart. In the familiar safety of the Burrow, leaning into Mrs Weasley's warm, steady embrace, Marina's exhaustion was only growing in magnitude. The reality of finally being away from the Death Eaters was setting in, and the feeling of relief that was washing over her was so intense that tears prickled at her eyes.

When Mrs Weasley had a firm arm around Marina's waist keeping her upright, Tom stepped back. The second he did so, Mr Weasley inched his wand forward threateningly.

"Drop your wand," he said firmly.

"I am not here to fight," Tom said calmly, though he did not obey Arthur's command. "I only wanted to –"

"Drop it," Mr Weasley repeated, flicking his wand down emphatically.

Tom did not move, his impossibly composed gaze fixed on Mr Weasley.

Marina, who was being gently but relentlessly coaxed out of their way by Mrs Weasley, found the last dregs of her energy so that she could roll her eyes. "For fuck's sake, Tom," she said tiredly, "just do it."

In the familiar safety of the Burrow, leaning into Mrs Weasley's warm, steady embrace, Marina's exhaustion was only growing in magnitude. The reality of finally being away from the Death Eaters was setting in, and the feeling of relief that was washing over her was so intense that tears prickled at her eyes.

Tom spared her a brief but irritated look. "Stay out of this," he said tensely through clenched teeth, trying to keep an eye on Mr Weasley's wand.

Marina bristled. "If you wanted me to stay out of it, you should have left me in that bloody cellar," she said acidly. "Now listen to him and drop your stupid wand, this is hardly a good time for a duel."

Something worked in Tom's jaw and he gave her another deeply annoyed look as if he really was regretting rescuing her. He let a small, aggravated breath from his nose and stiffly bent to place his wand on the ground beside him, slowly standing again with his hands slightly raised to demonstrate his cooperation.

Mr Weasley did not lower his wand, but he visibly relaxed and a great deal of the tension in the room seemed to dissipate immediately. His reaction reminded Marina of something that she had rarely been forced to consider; Tom was a very formidable – and potentially very dangerous – wizard. Mr Weasley's degree of relief had only revealed the intensity of his fear of the threat that Tom could have posed. Marina looked back at Tom's stony glare, unable to avoid feeling a little intimidated. Perhaps she should tread more carefully around him now that he actually had a wand.

"Explain yourself," Mr Weasley said, his voice low with gravitas. "You have two minutes."

"Can it wait?" Tom said dryly, "Marina's been tortured for five days now."

Mr Weasley's composure flickered.

"Tortured?" Mrs Weasley whispered, sounding mortified, immediately drawing Marina over to the couch and setting her down.

"Yeah," Marina said grimly as Mrs Weasley turned her face to the side and pointed her wand at the deep cut on her brow. "At Malfoy Manor. They've been holding me there since Diagon Alley. Tom broke me out."

There was a ringing silence.

"You got her out?" Mr Weasley asked suspiciously.

"Yes," Tom replied smoothly, "that's why I'm here."

"How do we know this isn't a trick?" Mr Weasley demanded.

"That would be a trick at great personal risk to myself, wouldn't it?" said Tom evenly, hands still raised as he eyed Mr Weasley's wand.

Mrs Weasley had finished healing the cut, and she looked over at Tom with emotion roiling on her face. "Why did you go with them, Tom?" she whispered.

For the first time since they had arrived, Marina saw something sad flicker in Tom's eyes. "I had no choice," he said intensely, "The Dark Lord had seen me in Ollivander's memories and was already aware that the diary had been lost for a time. He knew who... and what I was." Tom's jaw tensed again. "He may have kept my true nature a secret from his Death Eaters, but they knew my face, if nothing else. If I had refused to go with them, the Dark Lord would have been forced to assume that my loyalties lay elsewhere, that I had revealed the secret of his Horcruxes, and he would have retaliated by burying those that remain so deep that we would never have a chance at recovering them."

Marina frowned. "He doesn't think that you told us about it at some point over the last six years?" she asked slowly, trying to keep her suspicion out of her voice.

It didn't seem to work – Tom gave her a long, horribly measured look. "No, he does not," he said softly, before turning back to Mr Weasley. "As it stands, I have managed to convince him that the diary was stolen from Malfoy Manor by thieves, sold to Borgin and Burkes, and picked up by a witless Muggle visitor who did not understand what they had found." His eyes went to Marina again, but she said nothing, watching him from behind what she hoped was a blank expression. "The story amused him, of course," Tom said quietly, "he seemed to consider the diary consuming your soul as your punishment for trespassing in the magical world."

A tired breath fell from Marina. It was easy to picture Voldemort's glee at the thought of a Muggle wandering into the magical world only to be devoured to fuel his own Horcrux. Without warning his voice was in her head, cold and filled with cruel delight.

Were you so enraptured with his pretence that even now in the face of his true motives, you still wish to believe it?

She shivered involuntarily, a sharp jerk that made her physically recoil.

Tom's eyes were still on her as he continued. "I told him that my last few years were spent maintaining my pretence, purposefully placing myself close to the Order to learn what I could, and to bring what I learned back to him once he returned."

"A convincing story," breathed Mr Weasley, "very convincing."

Tom's expression hardened. "It would have been harder to convince him of the truth," he said harshly, "The Dark Lord may pay me a great deal of attention, but he is not half as suspicious of me as he should be. He assumes that I am but a facsimile of himself, that we share the same thoughts and feelings." Tom's voice had grown bitter, and he looked almost disgusted as he continued. "It does not cross his mind that a part of his own soul might stray from its originator. His arrogance has made him blind to what holes exist in my alibi." He hesitated, looking down in the first display of nerves Marina had seen. "But it has been my intention to find him for some time now, even before the Death Eaters recognised me."

Mr Weasley immediately took a step towards him, and Tom raised his hands a fraction further. "Dumbledore instructed me to do so before he died," he said quickly, "to join him, if I could."

"Why would he do that?" Mrs Weasley asked whisperingly.

"I will explain," said Tom slowly, "but later. I have to return to Malfoy Manor."

"You will not be leaving," Mr Weasley said dangerously. "You said that you brought You-Know-Who information about the Order… What did you tell him? Does he know that you worked with Dumbledore?"

"As I said, I will explain everything," repeated Tom with forced patience, "but escaping with Marina required that I stage something of a dramatic distraction... It would be incredibly suspicious if I am noticed to be absent in its aftermath."

Marina stared at him in surprise. "Wait..." she said, dumbfounded, "you're going back?"

"I have to," he said, a tense frown creasing his brow. "They will know that I helped you if I don't."

"Why does it matter?" Mr Weasley said loudly, his wand still at Tom's heart. "If you rescued her, there's no reason to go back."

"If they know that I am only posing as a Death Eater, the Dark Lord will deduce that his enemies know of his Horcruxes," Tom said all at once like he was annoyed. "As I said, if that comes to pass then it will become near impossible to find them, let alone deal to them."

"But why?" Marina said, exasperated. "Why pose as a Death Eater? Why did Dumbledore tell you to find him?"

Tom gave her another long look, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by the sounds of rapid footsteps coming down the stairs. A second later, Charlie appeared at the foot of the stairs in his pyjamas and a mop of sleep-mussed hair – though his expression was alert. When he spoke, his voice was tired and tense.

"What's going on, mum? I heard voices –" Charlie froze. "Marina?" he said, near whisper.

Before she could even speak, Charlie had crossed the living room in breakneck speed and seized her from the couch, lifting her in a tight, somewhat painful hug.

"You're back," he said, voice heavy with relief. "We didn't know if we'd ever see you again!"

"I'm okay," Marina gasped, struggling to breath in his vice grip. "Just – just a bit bruised is all."

"I would describe that as an understatement," Tom said lowly, watching her.

Charlie looked around at him with an impassive expression, glancing at his parents as he gaged the situation. "Good to see you again, Tom," he said carefully, eyes lingering on his father's wand hovering right over Tom's heart.

Tom gave a slow nod.

"Staying, are you?" Charlie asked with loaded nonchalance, helping Marina sit back down.

Instead of replying, Tom's eyes flicked to Mr Weasley, whose face crumpled with indecision.

"Surely you understand, Tom," said Mr Weasley, "we can't just let you –"

"I will return to explain later," Tom interrupted, growing visibly more irate as time dragged on. "Now that the Dark Lord is away travelling, his attention is no longer on me. I will be able to move much more freely."

He fixed Mr Weasley with an imploring look much like the one he had given Marina in the Manor cellar.

Mr Weasley let out a long, tense breath.

"Marina," Mrs Weasley said gently. "What do you think?"

Marina's eyes widened. "Why does that matter?" she asked, feeling put on the spot.

"You saw what happened tonight," said Mrs Weasley as she grasped Marina's shoulder reassuringly. "Can his story be trusted?"

She balked. Her decision to go with Tom in the Manor's cellar seemed like low stakes compared to whether or not they let him saunter off back to Voldemort's crew with the knowledge that the Weasleys were harbouring one of their escaped prisoners.

"I – I don't know," she stammered, not meeting Tom's watchful eyes, "I probably would have died in that cellar if he hadn't come for me, but…" Marina bit her lip, trying to think of how to word her indecision. "I think you would know him better than I do now," she said quietly. "It has been six years since I've seen him, after all."

"Did You-Know-Who know?" Mr Weasley pressed. "Did he know that Tom had healed the other Horcruxes?"

Marina frowned. "I... I don't think so," she said. "Tom hid what happened with me from him."

There was a long silence.

"Arthur," Mrs Weasley said, standing with her hand still on Marina's shoulder. "You said yourself after the wedding, it didn't make any sense for Tom to just –"

"If this is a lie, he could destroy us," Mr Weasley said quietly. "One word to the Death Eaters, and –"

"Dumbledore trusted him," Charlie interrupted, then gave a small shrug. "Eventually, at least. That has to mean something, right? I mean, are we saying that he pulled the wool over Dumbledore's eyes?"

Mr Weasley hesitated, though his wand did not drop.

But Mrs Weasley had clearly made up her own mind. She stepped towards them and pushed down Mr Weasley's outstretched wand. "Oh stop it, Arthur, he's not just some stranger, it's Tom. He's spent every Christmas with us since for the last five years, for Merlin's sake," she said sternly. "Besides, Charlie is right – If Dumbledore trusted him, then I don't see why we shouldn't."

She turned to Tom with a firm look on her face and her hands on her hips. Even standing a good foot shorter than him, she was an daunting sight to behold. "You should have told us," said Mrs Weasley crossly, "we've been worried sick about you."

"I'm sorry," Tom said immediately. He looked more intimidated of Mrs Weasley than he had the entire time Mr Weasley had him at wand-point. "The Dark Lord was insistent on keeping me close, it was impossible to get away until now."

"Still," said Mrs Weasley, eyes narrowing, "you'll be helping Charlie with the gnomes when you're back, and not a word about it."

A smile twitched at the corners of Tom's mouth. "I should be going," he said, finally lowering his hands. "They will have noticed my absence by now."

"When will you be back?" asked Mr Weasley quickly.

"I'm not sure," said Tom honestly. "I will come as soon as I can."

Mrs Weasley stepped towards him and grasped his hands. "Be careful," she said seriously, before a smile crinkled her eyes. "It's good to see you again, dear."

Tom pressed his lips together and said nothing.

"Oh come here," Mrs Weasley said busily, pulling him down towards her and making him stoop significantly so that she could give him a tight hug.

Marina stared. Though his hands were politely on Mrs Weasley's back and his expression was composed, he was not pulling away. It was the most affection she had ever seen from him.

"Off you go then," Mrs Weasley said waveringly, forcing herself to smile as she let him go. "Be careful," she said again, like she couldn't help herself.

Tom stood to his full height again and his hand twitched at his side – without a sound, his wand leapt from the ground into his grasp. He gave Mr Weasley a slightly tense nod, which he returned.

"See you later, Tom," Charlie said from beside Marina, "give that snake of his a good kick from me, won't you?"

Tom smirked. "If I could get close enough, I'd be happy to oblige."

Marina's eyes flashed to his face. Was he not allowed near Nagini? Did Voldemort know what would happen if he did so? Did that mean that Voldemort knew about –

"I will be back soon," Tom said quietly, watching Marina's face like he could hear the questions whirring in her head.

Marina opened her mouth to say something, to say 'fuck the Death Eaters' and ask him to explain it all now, to dispel the horrible unknowing that writhed in her chest, to tell her where he went with Dumbledore for all those years, to ask if he knew anything about what Harry was doing, to thank him for getting her out of Malfoy Manor –

But he had already turned away, raised his wand, and was gone with a crisp snap that didn't echo.

It was another two hours before Marina finally sunk into bed, barely able to keep her eyes propped open. Her fingers were wrinkled from the long, somewhat painful bath she had taken, her skin still red from the steaming hot water. Mrs Weasley had helped her wash away the grime, blood, and sweat caked to her body, and had detangled the lumps of filthy hair, rinsing it until it finally looked blonde again. The cuts and bruises had been mostly taken care of, but her broken arm was slightly harder to fix. Before bandaging it, Mrs Weasley had slathered it in a strange-smelling poultice that she swore would help it heal but so far it had just made Marina feel dizzy – though at least it didn't hurt anymore.

A gentle knock came at her door and Marina groggily pushed herself up.

"Yeah?"

Charlie pushed the door open and gave her a rueful smile. "How are you feeling?"

Marina sighed and collapsed back onto the bed as he entered and sat next to her. "I am significantly cleaner," she said reasonably.

"Yeah, I can tell," Charlie sniggered, "no offense but I've cleaned out dragon pens that smell better than you when you arrived."

"Thanks Charlie," she said sarcastically, "how about I leave you underground for a week and see how good you smell afterwards?"

"You didn't answer my question though," Charlie deflected lightly. "How are you feeling?"

Marina shifted uncomfortably. She had deliberately kept herself from dwelling too much on the impossibly tangled mess of emotions that was twisting in her chest, sinking instead into the slow safety that permeated being back in the Burrow. "Fine," she said blandly.

Charlie stared at her. "Fine," he repeated, a little incredulously.

"Yeah," Marina shifted again, "anyway, I am pretty tired so –"

"Marina," Charlie interrupted gently, "I'm here to talk if you need me."

"I know," she said awkwardly, looking at her hands. "I just – I haven't been thinking about it. I – I can't." A frown deepened on her brow and her fingers twisted around each other.

Charlie nodded. "You've been through a lot," he said quietly, "it's okay if it takes a while."

She nodded, feeling very much like she was trying to edge out of a spotlight shining directly at her.

"Hey," he said suddenly, "I brought you this." He pulled Tom's Christmas present from his pocket and handed it out to her. "You left it in the lounge," he said, giving it a cursory look-over, "what is it?"

"Oh," Marina said, staring at it in surprise. She had forgotten about it again. "It's uh, it's a present. From Tom."

"He brought you a present in jail?" Charlie asked dryly.

"No – well yes, but he gave it to me ages ago," she said, taking it. The parcel was very worn, the edges of the paper had gone all soft and fluffy like it had been handled a lot. "I never had the chance to open it…"

"Go on then," said Charlie, grinning. "Lets see what he got you."

Marina felt strangely nervous, her fingers trembling slightly as she tugged at the frayed twine and the knot slowly gave way. She laid the string aside and found the edge of the paper, pulling it away as gently as she could – the thought of tearing it was unbearable. The paper was so weathered that it barely made a sound as it opened, and there, nestled inside was what appeared to be a very strange-looking crystal. It was deep crimson, but the light from the lamp beside her caught it in such a way that made it look like flames were twisting around inside of it. She rolled it off the paper and the second that it touched her hand, a tingling warmth erupted on her skin and spread up her arm like she had plunged it back into her bathwater.

"What is it?" she asked, turning it around in the light and watching the colours dance across it, orange, red, purple, bright blistering yellow, electric blue –

"It can't be," Charlie said disbelievingly. "Pass it here?"

She handed it over and Charlie examined it closely. "It has to be," he said excitedly. "It's a phoenix flint."

"A what?" said Marina, a little bit surprised she hadn't heard of it.

"A phoenix flint," he repeated, grinning, "they're a bit of a mystery actually – crystals that appear in the guts of phoenixes and no one knows how or why. They'll spit up a pellet every now and then and if you're lucky there'll be a flint inside." Charlie held the crystal up and admired the colours himself. "They're bloody expensive, though. How did Tom get his hands on one?" he mused, sounding very impressed. "They go for about two hundred Galleons a pop."

"Two hundred Galleons?" Marina exclaimed, staring at the little rock. "Why?"

"They're said to have healing properties," Charlie said.

"Damn," said Marina, taking the flint again. "I just thought it was a pretty rock."

"I mean, it is a pretty rock," Charlie smirked. "They don't actually have healing properties, it's just a myth."

"It does warm you up though," she murmured.

"So does a warming charm," Charlie shrugged. "Phoenix flints are just bloody rare."

Marina was captivated by the flint, turning it over and over again in the light, hypnotised by the glimmering colours.

"You're such a Niffler," Charlie laughed. "I can see why he got it for you."

"How did he get it?" she wondered out loud. "I don't think Tom's ever had two hundred Galleons in his life –"

Marina cut herself off. Suddenly she was back at Dumbledore's office feeding Fawkes treats, wiping the sooty powder from her fingers, and Dumbledore was saying –

"…only last week Fawkes regurgitated a wad of undigested plant remains into his lap."

Marina huffed a laugh. "Dumbledore's phoenix vomited it on him," she said to Charlie's questioning gaze.

Charlie raised his eyebrows. "I would have sold it," he said wryly.

Marina gave him a dry look. "Gee, thanks," she drawled. "I'm glad Tom found it and not you."

"Hey, two hundred Galleons is a lot of money," he grinned. "I mean, I like you, but two hundred Galleons, Marina."

"Really feeling the love," she rolled her eyes, though the effect was ruined when she was forced to stifle a massive yawn.

"I'll let you get some sleep then," he said, standing.

"Alright," said Marina sleepily, giving him a tired smile. "Hey, it's really good to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too," Charlie said warmly, mussing her hair. "Well, it is now, I gotta say when I gave you that hug, the stench nearly knocked me out –"

"Alright," Marina said loudly, pushing his arm away, "goodnight, I'm sick of you now."

Charlie raised his hands in mock surrender and backed away. "See you in the morning, stinky."

"Bye asshole," she called as he shut the door.

In the ringing silence left in his wake, Marina placed both phoenix flint and the frazzled string back into the worn paper and left the parcel on the bedside table. She flicked off the light and snuggling down into the blankets. In the darkness, the chill pressed in on her cheeks and prickled down her neck.

Marina thought of Tom without meaning to, her brain replayed the image of him appearing through the hole in the wall, his face smeared with dirt and his hair plastered to his forehead. She wondered what he had told the Death Eaters when he'd gotten back to the Manor, if they had believed whatever story he had spun for them. If they hadn't believed him, if at that very moment they were doing horrible things to him, if she would ever see him again –

She sighed sharply, flinging her non-broken arm across her face and tried to force her thoughts elsewhere. It was no good. Her mind was stuttering, flashes of the last 24 hours appearing in shattered shards. Bellatrix's cruel smile, Ollivander's cries on the stairs. Lying on the cold floor in that cellar, convinced everything had been for nothing, facing down her own death. Kneeling before Voldemort, his icy fingers on her face, her head splitting open as he broke into her mind, those red eyes boring into hers. The cold green flash of his killing curse and the dull thud of Jin's body hitting the –

Marina's involuntary shiver returned, jerking her hard and forcing her to draw in a sharp breath like she'd been shocked. Breathing heavily, Marina reached for the phoenix flint again. She tugged the blankets up over her head and brought the crystal close to her chest, relishing in the tingling warmth that spread up her arm and across her body, melting back the cold tension that had built there and sending her – finally – into a fathomless sleep.

I have a new laptop! And... it's PINK. I'm in love with it tbh. But point being - writing is back in my regular life schedule! :)

My sister started making Seven Devils vine compilations and they're the funniest thing I've ever seen I'm so proud of her. I started making a playlist on spotify for the story too, if any of that stuff interests you let me know and I'll find a way to share it lol.

Hope everyone is keeping as safe as you can, especially my readers from the States. It's hard to watch what's going on there from the outside, I can only imagine what it's like from the inside.

Love you guys, hope you're doing okay 3