Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using characters and elements from the world of Harry Potter, created and trademarked by JK Rowling. I do not claim ownership over any Harry Potter characters or the Harry Potter world. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is not claiming to be any part of the Harry Potter canon. Thank you to JK Rowling for letting me play with the characters and not suing me for writing them into a new situation.
Light of the Moon
Chapter 7
Taking a deep breath, Hermione pushed open the heavy doors, noting that they moved easily.
As she had expected from the pictures and descriptions in the books, the room was extremely large. The fading light from the sun filtered through the oculus in the center of the domed ceiling, illuminating the Mark of Ophidia that was on the floor, but not reaching the edges of the chamber, leaving each of the eight walls in near darkness.
Directly beneath the oculus, and capturing her attention immediately, was a beautiful fountain. The large basin was several feet across, and a woman carved from stone rose out of it, face and arms upraised. From her fingers, the water cascaded in streams that glittered in the remains of the daylight, to drip into the pool at her feet.
Like the marble statues in the Portrait Gallery, the lifelike carving almost seemed to breathe. Hermione approached it, entranced by the expression on the woman's face. Her eyes were closed, but she had a look of such joy and contentment, as if she communed with the sky and bridged the gap between heaven and earth.
Hermione stood before it for several moments, marveling at the workmanship. As she walked around the perimeter of the fountain to get a better look, she realized with a start that directly behind the fountain, the King sat in his throne, watching her.
His face was in darkness, set so far back against the wall, whereas she knew her own face was well-lit by the light from the oculus that even now was swiftly fading.
It occurred to her that she ought to have approached him immediately and presented herself. She stood in the presence of a King and had yet to acknowledge him.
A part of her was tempted to continue her perusal of the room as if he was not there, but she had long ago decided that the best way to solve the riddle was to get to know the man. And she had time before the moon rose.
Turning from the fountain, she approached him, her back straight and tall though her hands were shaking. She tried to hide them in the folds of her white robes.
As she got closer, she could make out his features in the semi-darkness more clearly. He was watching her, but he did not speak.
She decided against the curtsy. She wasn't particularly good at it, anyway. Instead, she inclined her head and bowed, much like she'd seen Horkos do.
"Your Majesty," she said, "my name is Hermione Granger." That seemed like the logical place to start. But what next? She couldn't very well ask him what his name was, as if she didn't know. She wracked her mind for something that would be appropriate to begin a conversation.
From her memories, she heard her mother's lessons on propriety. Always thank the host.
"I thank you for the hospitality and the kindness you and your castle staff have shown to a traveler. I have wanted for nothing since I have arrived, I have been treated most generously, and I have enjoyed the rare privilege to stay as your guest."
If the King was surprised at her words, she couldn't tell with his face so far into shadow. "You are very welcome, Miss Granger," he said, equally as formally as she. "Castle Marvolo is pleased to host such a worthy witch as yourself, and is honored by your choice to participate in the competition for the next Queen of Ophidia."
His voice was very smooth, musical, and had the tiniest hint of a cultured accent. Though his deep voice was not raised, she felt it resonate in her belly as if he were standing right beside her.
A slight shiver went down her back. Her reaction surprised her, though it shouldn't have. She'd seen him at dinner for the last several nights, and each time she got the same shiver. She thought perhaps talking to the man directly would have reminded her that he was only another wizard, reducing the butterflies she felt in her stomach. But if anything, it just set them to fluttering harder.
She gulped her nerves back and raised her eyes to meet his. The intensity of his gaze pierced her, and she fought the urge to look back down again.
"I am at your service, Your Majesty," she said. "I understand I am tasked to solve a riddle. Do you have instructions for me?"
He leaned forward on his throne just the tiniest bit, enough for her to see the beginnings of a smile form on his face. "You do well to ask before you begin. I cannot reveal any answers to you, but I can give you instructions."
He gestured to his left, to the empty space that would normally have been for a matching throne. There stood a marble pedestal. A small cube that appeared to be made of crystal sat on top of it, surrounded by faint blue flames, as if of fire. The flames flickered and danced, but did not appear to burn the cube.
Hermione couldn't be sure from this distance, but she was willing to bet that it gave off no heat, as a normal fire would.
"Your task is to put out the flames," he said, simply.
She thought about his words carefully, though she made no move to investigate the cube. "Is that the riddle?"
He very nearly smiled at her again, and said, "No, the riddle will provide the answer to accomplishing the task. It is written on the fountain, but I will tell it to you."
Hermione nodded, relieved that she would not be required to memorize the riddle.
He eyed her, as if assessing her worth, while she waited patiently beneath his gaze.
In that same musical tone, he recited,
"Artemis lets loose her shaft,
Twixt dusk and dawn,
To pierce the heart of fire.
Poseidon's bounty,
Seven from one,
To release your heart's desire."
She wondered what could possibly be inside the box. Was it different for every person? Surely the 'heart's desire' of one person would be different from another's. There was something about the way his voice lingered on that last word that made her think he was referring to other… desires.
But she couldn't think about that right now, not with his eyes still holding hers and his voice still echoing in the room. It was far too distracting.
"Your Majesty," she began, appalled when her voice came out thin and breathy. She took a deliberate breath, steeled herself, and started again. "Your Majesty, am I free to speak while I work? That is, shall I converse with you, or will you simply observe the trial?"
He met her question with silence, and then he eventually answered, "You are free to speak as you like. I will, likewise, speak when I am moved to do so."
She nodded, and with another slight bow, she backed away to look at the riddle that was engraved on the fountain, knowing it was the next step that was expected from her.
After she recited it to herself several times, to try to find the subtle nuances, she walked away from the fountain.
She still had time before the moon rose, and she intended to use it to examine her surroundings more closely.
Each of the walls had a display case. Jewelry, art, books—attractively displayed.
She looked at the books first. They were very old, their fragile bindings evident even through the glass. Her fingers itched to touch them, to see what knowledge they contained.
One of the books was open, arranged to display the pages. But the pages were blank. She thought for a moment she saw a line of ink flutter across the faded yellow sheets, but she blinked, and the surface was clear again.
"I love books," she said, casually. Her voice echoed in the room, though she was not speaking loudly. "The promise of a hidden piece of knowledge before you open the cover. The smell of parchment that has been preserved through the ages." She didn't look back to see how he would respond, and so was unsurprised when her comments were met with silence.
She continued looking, trying to decipher some of the runes on the spines. When she took a step backwards, as if to move on, she yelped in surprise when she bumped into an object that hadn't been there before.
Whirling, she found herself face to face with the King.
He was not so tall and imposing as she'd thought from seeing him from afar. Her head came to his shoulders, a normal height for less remarkable wizards.
But his eyes were just as dark as his pictures. They seemed to stare right into her, and she hoped he couldn't truly read her mind the way the rumors said he could. She wondered if bumping into him had inadvertently opened a pathway directly into her thoughts.
Very slowly, he reached his arm past her to touch the glass of the case.
She realized her pulse was pounding very fast at his nearness, as his movement brought his face even closer to hers.
"This volume here," he said, lightly tapping the glass, in a way that turned her attention from his handsome face back toward the case. "It is the only known copy in existence on elemental runes and blood magic, written by a wizard whose name has been nearly forgotten by history."
Fascinated, she looked at it more closely. It was sitting on top of the stack, the cover such a dark green as to be almost black. She could just make out faded silvery lettering, but something about it seemed very sinister. It was obviously a Dark book. She wondered why there were no other copies. "Such blood magic is very dangerous," she said, instead, thinking she didn't want the answer to her other question. "Forbidden by many cultures, in fact."
Riddle brought his arm down and stood beside her as they looked at the case. "I have heard many things about you, Miss Granger."
The blush on her face was immediate. She hoped it wasn't the rumors that she was going to be the next Queen because she'd talked to a portrait.
He continued as if he hadn't seen her reaction, to which she was thankful. "You are, by all accounts, extremely intelligent, fiercely loyal, innovative. You love books; I understand that this is already a well-known fact. Tell me, do you value learning above all things, Miss Granger? Do you thrill to the knowledge contained in ancient tomes such as these? Do you not feel such knowledge should be preserved, learned from?"
She swallowed, sensing in his words a mire she could get trapped in. "There are many things I value, learning and knowledge are but some of them. I believe in goodness and light and the responsibility to do what is right. When those things are in conflict with learning and knowledge, sometimes we must choose to preserve one over the other."
Despite the uncomfortable feeling she had at having just disagreed with him, he didn't seem to mind at all. The opposite, in fact, seemed to be true, as his dark eyes lit up at her answer. "But Miss Granger, how can we know whether something is right or wrong, useful or dangerous, if we do not first investigate? If we learn of that which requires a warning, are we not remiss if we do not sound that warning, and provide a sound basis in fact?"
His words seemed almost slippery, they were so smooth as they flowed through her mind. "I—I suppose so," she found herself saying.
When he didn't say anything further, she turned back to the case and pointed out the other book, the one she'd noticed earlier. "Why does this one seem to have blank pages? Whose work is it?"
"That one is mine," he said. "It is blank because it is for history that has yet to be written."
She smiled broadly at him as if he had told a joke, but the look on his face was very serious. She wondered what he planned to do with his life that none of it yet seemed worthy of recording.
Continuing to walk along the walls, she came to the next case. Unlike the other cases, which she could see were filled with a variety of different objects, this one only had two. They were so small that at first glance, she'd thought the case was empty. Suspended in midair were two rings linked together. One was an intricate, jeweled antique, and the other was a heavy gold band with Greek words engraved on it.
Hermione leaned in close to see if she could make out what the words said.
"My parents' wedding rings," King Riddle said, though she hadn't asked. He gently placed his hand on the glass.
Hermione stared at his face. The memory of his parents seemed to cause him a moment of sadness. She thought she caught a glimpse of a more vulnerable man, but then it was hidden again.
She turned to look back at the rings, thinking it was sweet how he'd preserved this tribute to their love. She hated to admit it, but it did give her a little hope. Despite the Ophidian prejudices against Muggle-borns, Queen Merope had married one, elevating his status to higher than all the Purebloods in the land. For love.
If the Ophidians had accepted him, they might accept another Muggle-born ruling over them. As the child of a Muggle-born and a Pureblood, Riddle himself was a Half-blood. She tried not to hope that perhaps his heritage made him more open to the prospect of marrying—and maybe even, one day, loving—a Muggle-born wife.
She knew she was flushing again, and she didn't want him to ask about it, so she moved towards the other cases, intent on learning as much as she could about the room before she started solving the riddle.
Two of the other cases held more jewelry. Necklaces, more rings, even the occasional crown sparkled at her. She imagined that the Marvolo family must have many priceless jewels. If these were chosen to be displayed in the Throne Room, they must have a special significance, or be even more valuable than they looked.
Riddle didn't offer any information about any of the items in those cases.
"When Lady Carrow spoke with me," Hermione said, deliberately understating their interactions, "she mentioned a Silver Crown. She seemed particularly intent on having it. Is that here in one of these cases?"
The King frowned, shaking his head, an irritated glint in his eye. "Lady Carrow was far too presumptuous." His jaw clenched before he explained further. "The Silver Crown is the crown for the Consort. Like mine," he indicated the crown that was settled against his forehead, "it is plain and silver, to represent the responsibility of the rulers to care for the ruled over. It is…not simply a prize to be won. It does not surprise me that she would refer to it in such an unseemly way."
"You do not seem to like her very much," Hermione observed.
He did not respond, but the look in his eye made his feelings very clear.
Hermione tried to hide her smile as she followed him to where he stopped in front of the next case.
It was filled with a variety of golden items. Jeweled eggs, coins, cups, plates, and trinkets. The way they were arranged resembled a dragon's hoard. The treasure glowed invitingly, tempting to the avaricious. But everyone knew to steal from a dragon was incredible folly. Perhaps that was the message of the display.
"How beautiful," was Hermione's only comment, as she lightly passed it by.
As she came to the last case, she could feel Riddle stop a pace behind her, watching for her reaction.
Clay, marble, and stone depicted creatures of the earth and the air and the water. Statuettes of gryffins, phoenixes, and unicorns stood mixed with lions, badgers, and eagles. It took her a moment of staring to realize that the sinuous surface they all stood upon was actually a large snake. Its head curved up toward the top of the case as if it was protecting all of the animals it was coiled around.
The snake was the symbol of Ophidia, so it made sense that it would be the largest of all the animals.
She took an extra step closer, examining the intricate work. Riddle didn't volunteer any information on the figurines or on their creators, and she didn't ask. She did note that each of the animals was displayed in a position of power and pride, a truly magnificent collection.
As she turned away, she had the uncanny feeling that the eyes of the snake followed her. She couldn't help but turn back to check, but the carven image remained motionless.
She faced the King just in time to catch the faintest glimpse of humor in his eyes at her actions.
Thinking over everything she had just seen, she asked him, "Do the other objects in the room have anything to do with the solving of the riddle?" She half expected him not to answer such a bold question.
After a moment of thought, he said with deliberation, "Everything you need to solve the riddle and complete the task, is in this room. You do not need any of the objects that are in the cases, if that is your question."
She nodded, as she began to wander back towards the fountain that had the riddle written on it. "Thank you for answering."
He walked in step beside her and she asked, conversationally, "Was everything collected by you, or are they from collections of previous monarchs?"
The King's gaze flicked around the room, taking in each display in turn, and then he said, "They are mine. Chosen carefully, displayed very particularly." He paused as if he would say something more, but instead the room fell into silence once more.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable, she said, "I'm sorry if my comments distract you, but I do wish to make the most of my time here in Ophidia, and seeing the inside of your Throne Room is an incredible honor."
He looked at her very directly, then, and said in a pointed manner, "There have been many Suitors who have cared more about having a night alone with the King, for conversation or… other things… than about solving the riddle. Or who thought they could win the throne through seduction."
"Pardon me?" Hermione challenged, her eyes flashing suddenly. Did he really think she was just playing for time to try to seduce him instead of working on the riddle?
"Sometimes I am amenable," he added, sparking her ire even further. His dark eyes had brightened considerably, either in amusement at her or at the prospect of being seduced.
"That—that's preposterous!" she sputtered, before the popping p's reminded her of the conversation with Lady Carrow. Lady Carrow no doubt had tried every which way to win the throne except for actually solving the riddle. Astoria had said she wasn't terribly bright, and likely didn't stand much of a chance to begin with. It wasn't that far-fetched to think that other women might have taken advantage of being alone with the King. He was, admittedly, extremely attractive and…virile.
Hermione felt her cheeks turn a bright red as her gaze connected with his.
His smile grew a tiny bit more, drawing her attention to his mouth.
Unwittingly, her mind spun with lascivious images of that mouth on her body, causing her to be even more aware of the fact that she wore nothing beneath her chaste white robes. She hoped fervently that he wasn't able to see what she was thinking of.
Forcefully, she pushed those thoughts away and had just opened her mouth to protest once more, to explain fully her every intention to treat the trial with the utmost professionalism—when her wand vibrated.
She jumped at the sudden sensation in her hand, before she realized that it was the alarm that she'd set to signal when the moon rose.
It was time to begin.
A/N: A very special thanks to my husband who wrote the riddle, and who also designed the vast majority of the riddle test featured in the next chapters. Without the riddle, there'd be no story. Also, a reminder that I'm updating this story every other day, so that's all the EVEN days in April until the story is finished.
S&R: Constructive Reviews Welcome (CRW)