Stumbling

In his short time in the refuge, Harry had not really explored the full dimensions of this underground structure. His required search for Riddle's quarters forced him to do so. Contrary to his earlier assumption, the place was quite enormous. However, to his regret, he also found that the refuge was also quite empty. It reminded him somewhat of a ghost town.

From the rather wide main tunnel, there were always branches that no one ever seemed to turn into or come out of. He had so far stayed mainly in the front part of the refuge, where the classrooms, his office, the dining hall and the library were. Fortunately, in his wandering, he met his student Paul Loyd, who pointed him in the right direction.

This advice led him to a rather secluded part of the complex where almost no one seemed to be and which, at least in Harry's eyes, was less refined or ornate. It reminded him somewhat of the dungeons at Hogwarts. Finally, he stood before a door onto which someone had attached an oversized knocker in the shape of a dangling snake.

As soon as Harry took hold of it, however, the metal construct suddenly came to life and escaped from his hand. The head of the snake fixed him and emitted a surprisingly loud hissing noise. Since he had long since lost his ability to understand Parseltongue, this meant nothing to him. The only word he could speak in this language until today was the command for something to open.

However, it wasn't long that he had to let the snake stare at him, as the door opened and a rather tired-looking Riddle faced him. Perhaps Harry was imagining it, but there was a certain coldness in Riddle's gaze. The man greeted Harry demurely, waving him in while saying, "Come Mr. James, accompany me to my parlour."

As this was only a door away from the entrance, it wasn't long before they were sitting opposite each other at a small table. Harry had only been able to catch a glimpse of the hallway that led into the rest of the flat. That one had seemed quite impersonal.

Black panelling, a green and silver patterned carpet and silk wallpaper of the same design. No pictures, no furnishings. The parlour on the other hand was quite heavily decorated, with three small tables and several chairs, a sideboard and many small cupboards on which several objects and pictures were placed.

There were also several paintings adorning the walls, both static and enchanted. It was quite tasteful even for Harry's rather rustic taste. However, Harry couldn't help thinking that this was just a room designed to convey a certain image.

If Harry was not mistaken, there was even a motionless painting of a young, childlike Asterope in the room. Since these two didn't exactly like each other - at least that was the impression Asterope had left on him - this room only showed what Riddle wanted to appear to others, namely the image of a caring, cultivated family man.

Riddle cleared his throat and said: "I am grateful that you thought of the memories. The animal creatures that were freed by you are currently being nursed up by trained caretakers of magical creatures and then we will try to find a suitable habitat for them. Some of these hybrid creatures will however probably not survive, as I have been informed.

"But in the end, you have done a good deed here. Of course, this is nothing compared to this miracle that destroyed the Dementors. They don't multiply all that quickly, and it will probably be over a century before they reach the old level again."

"I am surprised that it is this point that excites you so much, Mr. Riddle. I would have expected a little more enthusiasm about Dumbledore's demise," Harry interjected, eyeing Riddle incredulously.

However, Riddle returned his gaze with an almost pitying expression and said coldly, "Dumbledore is not dead."

"That's impossible. He had his soul sucked out! And I hit him with a Killing Curse!" blurted Harry in irritation. "He can't still be alive. No one survives that."

"Mr. James, that kind of naivety does really not suit you. Albus Dumbledore is a master of almost all the magical arts, in a breadth that not even I can match. There are many ways for a wizard to protect his life, if he clings to it with great will."

"Please tell me it' s not Horcruxes. I hate Horcruxes," Harry said, unable to suppress the impulse to voice his dark suspicions. Since he was here, Harry had been on the lookout for parallelisms between his world and this one. It would be only too fitting if the this-worldly Dumbledore had created such foul things.

"I hadn't pegged you for an enthusiast of refined lichdom. There are not many who even know what a Horcurx is. A rare and very questionable means of sustaining one's life. I have not heard of anyone trying such foolishness in the last century. Of course, I can't rule out the possibility that Dumbledore created one as a last lifeline, but honestly, I don't think so. Dumbledore has much better option at his disposal. Think about it, what is the old pompous goat famous for?"

"He was a master of transfiguration in my world. He also had some interest in alchemy and therefore probably in potions too," Harry replied thoughtfully. "My knowledge of alchemy is quite limited, however. The goal of creating a Philosopher's Stone has always been quite dominant in this school of magic and it never really interested me.

"Besides, even if Dumbledore had created a Philosopher's Stone, it wouldn't do him any good, since such a thing regenerates the living body and cannot resurrect dead flesh," here Harry faltered, as another thought occurred to him. "Other alchemists had attempted to create life from nothing, but little of this art was saved to the present day, as it seemed to the practising alchemists a dead end that could never bear fruit.

"Homunculi were considered a mere curiosity in my world, without any significant application. Even the practitioners of darker magic had little use for them, as the corpses of real creatures usually produced better results and were easier to obtain than the process of slow cultivation of inanimate bodies. Otherwise I see little use in alchemy for this subject, and transmutations and potions also seem quite useless for this."

Riddle replied appreciatively, "You have been on the right track. In my view, Dumbledore creates humunculi and takes possession of them. It's ingenious, no question about it. He grows copies of his own body. While his real body rests in a safe place, he pilots a humunculus through the world. It was an interesting situation with the Dementor, and I understand that it must have looked to you as if his soul had been devoured.

"Ekrizdis, the first Lord of Azkaban studied in detail the effect of kissing by Dementors on possessed people. The creatures are not able to devour a possessing soul, because in reality it still has its seat in the original body. In a sense, it is stretched in an undefined meta-existential space between bodies.

"At least if the user of this technique knows what he is doing. And that is reasonable to assume in Dumbledore's case. From personal experience, I can say that you at least put Dumbledore out of action for a few weeks."

In a way, this explained why Dumbledore had so obviously not fought with the Elder Wand. After all, it was very long, light in color, and had a shape that could be easily recognized even from a distance. A facsimile Dumbledore would not, of course, use the real Death Stick.

"From what experience?" asked Harry, tilting his head.

Riddle laughed and explained: "I have already killed him twice. After my first success, I had his death announced far and wide. When he then suddenly appeared in public in his fresh old self, it did quite a bit of damage to my reputation. You are now a member of an illustrious club of three, including yourself, Mr James.

"Besides the two of us, our secret order of Dumbledore slayers also includes a French witch who went by the name of Adrienne Bertrand. She was an ally of Grindelwald. She had even burned his body. So when he resurfaced, it caused fear and terror in Grindelwald's short-lived republic."

Grindelwald. Harry had noticed that Grindelwald had also existed here and had started a big war in the magical world community, but he had not followed the exact circumstances. With the very small-scale political structure in the Muggle world, Harry wondered on which platform he had started his campaign. Harry would have to look that up again.

"So it would be necessary to find out where Dumbledore's real body is," Harry noted clammily. It was perhaps even worse than Horcruxes, since their ability to defend themselves was quite low if you knew what to expect. Certainly one could spring a trap, like the Dumbledore of his world.

"Or one could be foolish enough to make constant physical contact with one, as he and his friends had done in their escape through Britain. But for the stationary Dumbledore, not only would it be easy to fight someone in his own home, he could easily change his location on his won. And that was something Horcruxes could not do.

"I don't think this is the way," Riddle said, shaking his head. "As much as I despise the old man, he's just the icing on the mouldy cake that is our regime. For all his tyranny, he was never a naive autocrat blind to his eventual demise. No, he has installed a system that is self-reinforcing at all ends. The Wizengamot is not always on Dumbledore's side. Oh, they adore him, no question, but they have a mind of their own despite everything.

"I have hopes of gaining more and more supporters from these rich circles until the system collapses and Dumbledore still gets to admire this beautiful heap of shards, to despair of his broken dreams. It would certainly be my pleasure to see him go permanently, but he's too cunning an adversary to bet on it. The big picture has to shift, and then Dumbledore's house of cards will crumble."

"Then I must say that I don't quite understand the strategy in this, to carry out assassinations? Are you trying to get the Wizengamot deputies on your side by threats and fear?", Harry wanted to know with scepticism in his eyes.

Riddle rolled his eyes at this and with a sharp, fake grin sweetly replied, "You obviously know next to nothing about the activities of the Fellowship. The so-called attacks were mainly information gathering operations that got out of hand. They were discovered, defended themselves inadequately and lost not only their own lives over it, but also took those of some enemies along with them. You are falling for the government's propaganda, Mr James.

"Of course, it is in the interest of the ruling order to portray us as mindless butchers whose aim it is to kill government officials. But we would gain nothing from that - as you have recognised yourself. In most cases, officials are replaceable. So why should anyone bother to smash one such cog in the ruthless machine when it is well known how easily they can be replaced by countless others. Fear and terror are not helpful here. We save these methods for more appealing targets."

"How does the surrender of the goblin hybrids fit in with this benevolent agenda that Durl believes has consigned them to certain death?" countered Harry with genuine interest. "He was very upset about it. If he is right, your actions would inspire little confidence in me, especially since you did not tell me about this plan when you recruited me for this. If the creatures were really assassinated, then I too would unknowingly have blood on my hands, after all, you would hardly have got into the complex without me."

Anger flashed across Riddle's otherwise trained, calm face and he said coldly: "Durl is a pitiful creature - in many ways. He idolises his mother to this day. But like him, she was never more than a construct of her own childhood of indoctrination, arbitrary reinterpretation and deliberate misinformation about goblins. No, Durl's kindred will not be killed for who they are. Some even hold leadership over extinct clans without even knowing it.

"But don't get me wrong, many will still not survive. But the blame for this does not lie with the goblins. Durl's so-called mountain elves have been raised to be servants who hate goblins and house elves alike. Living among them becomes challenging for them, to say the least. And those who are pushed to change in such a way, well, they may seek their way out in suicide. This is especially likely since they have indeed been given such orders."

"Then why hand them over to the goblins at all if they can't live with them? There's plenty of room here, isn't it?" retorted Harry as so often unsure if the Riddle could be believed.

"The goblins are honourable allies if the worst comes to the worst," Riddle explained, "The theft of members of their people is considered by them to be a black mark between us and them. With my deed I have righted a great wrong from the goblins' point of view. And besides, we are hardly in a position to meet their needs. The brainwashing they have been subjected to must first be removed.

"Durl was still very young when he escaped, the damage to him was only limited and it could still be shaped. The others, though? My mere appearance as a stranger in their barren halls caused some to swallow poison. The goblins will know what to do with them. I would not have the staff. And besides, Mr. James, we seem to have a deceitful and ungrateful saboteur in our ranks who would make this matter even more impossible."

At this, Riddle gave him a contemptuous look and before Harry could make sense of it, Riddle continued in a cutting tone, without losing the intensity of his gaze: "I hope you weren't so gullible to think that I wouldn't notice your outrageously stupid actions. When I felt the bond between me and Durl break, I naturally didn't know that you were behind it, I even suspected that he had suffered an unfortunate accident.

"But the truth was easy enough to uncover. Can you tell me what you were thinking? In what possible world is it all right to interfere in the internal affairs of your patrons and hosts? We have accepted you here without asking much in return. Even if you had turned down the teaching job, hosting you would have been a matter of honour for us.

"But you repay us by freeing a potentially dangerous, very unstable nutcase from his necessary corset, who now not only endangers the physical safety of the refuge's residents. He also can tell the whole world about this refuge if he wants to in a fit of spite. Really what were you thinking?"

In a way, it was fascinating to see Tom Riddle in this kind of almost righteous anger. And unfortunately Harry had to admit that he had not considered these questions. He had only seen the suffering of this creature and had not thought of consequences. This trait seemed never to have completely left him.

In a firm voice, he replied, "Perhaps I acted a little too carelessly. Okay. But how can I in good conscience turn away someone who is looking for help, who is suffering under his subjugation? I became convinced many years ago that the enslavement of house elves is deeply morally wrong. The issue is complex and there are no easy solutions. But not to act in this case, if I can? What do you think I should have done, Riddle? Just send him away? I have this quirk of having to help when I can."

"You don't regret it in the least, do you? You should have talked to me about it, damn it. Clarify the situation. Trusting the alleged victim's stories without even hearing the other side, that's not very fair, or moral either. What if Durl had actually been a violent monster whom I bound only to prevent harm to the community? What if he had been spying for our enemies all along? All this is not absurd, but obvious," Riddle said indignantly. He shook his head with an expression of utter disapproval on his features.

Before Harry could reply, his companion elaborated his position, "It's not entirely your fault. I should have seen how deep your distrust of me runs. I thought that if I gave you some time, you would find your way to the right mentality. That was obviously a mistake. And even though I'm probably not doing any better with it: if you allow yourself to do something like that again, I'll kick you out of the refuge.

"As useful as you may be and as grateful as I am for the help you've already given, we can't have this kind of dangerous disruptive action. The situation is tough and grim enough. I should not also have to ensure that an ungrateful traveller from another dimension does not jeopardise our position out of misunderstood kindness."

They were both silent for a while. Harry actually felt a little guilty now and this was not something he had ever wanted to feel in relation to Tom Riddle. He wanted to contradict vehemently, but he couldn't find the right words for it. He stuck to the fact that he only wanted to help. If Riddle had forbidden him, Harry probably would have done it anyway.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry explained, "I will try to avoid such a situation in the future. If my behaviour should provoke you to banish me from here, then that is your right. Perhaps there are other secrets here that you would like to tell me so that such a thing can be avoided in the time to come."

He had never been much of a diplomat. And even after he had spoken, he realised how duplicitous and opportunistic his statement was. He had meant it sincerely. To Harry's amazement, the hardness on Riddle's face faded and with his eyes closed he laughed, shaking his head. Harry looked at him a little uncertainly as the man took a while to regain his composure.

Then drained weariness returned to his features and he said, "I should probably feel more anger at your impertinence. Unfortunately, you remind me of my wife. You can't imagine how many times her big mouth got her into trouble. She also never knew when it was better to keep quiet."

"Who was she? I'm sure Voldemort never had anything resembling a love life," Harry replied, hoping to steer the conversation in a more pleasant direction. Riddle pointed to a magical photograph on one of the cabinets next to him. It showed a woman in half-profile, perhaps around forty years old.

"If Harry was honest, she didn't seem particularly attractive to him, even if her mischievous laugh and twinkling eyes implied great wakeness of mind. He found himself experiencing, as he so often did in this twisted world, that he had seen this face before. Riddle regarded him with a raised left eyebrow, as if waiting for him to recognise her.

After a while, he explained, "Myrtle Riddle. To this day, I'm not sure if love was the right word to describe the relationship between the two of us. In the beginning, I would have denied it with great vigour. But she was Muggle-born and was constantly getting herself into trouble and being bullied to the bone. And how could I act as a paragon for this oppressed part of society without coming to her defence as well?

"And so I was forced to spend time with her all the time, so that she didn't make life more difficult for the rest of us. She never lost her fire, not even towards me. I could woo anyone and steer them for their own good, if you know what I mean. I never managed to do that with her.

"Always as sharp-tongued as her greatest adversaries, if unfortunately a little clumsy and gauche. As I said, you remind me a little of her. Perhaps it's because few allies today show me so much scepticism. I usually only get it from my enemies. Did you know my wife in your world? Is she still alive there?"

Riddle must have taken Harry's incredulous eyes as an indicator that he had been acquainted with her. Although he didn't know if he was doing himself a favour, he replied sincerely: "She was Voldemort's first murder victim, so to speak. Maybe it was an accident, but in the end we could never ascertain it. He had unleashed the Basilisk of the Chamber of Secrets on the school and in connection with those events she perished. She was left as a wailing ghost at Hogwarts."

"I often had the desire to strangle her during our time at Hogwarts," Riddle joked, but it remained quite mirthless. "Here, she died in one of those situations you misinterpret as assassinations. It was 22 years ago now. Since I sent her there, I suppose I am responsible for her death in both universes."

Riddle stared into space for a moment. It was hard for Harry to grasp whether it was genuine contemplation of a lost love, or just a shabby trick. Perhaps he was judging this man too harshly. In this depressed mood and his open display of sadness, Harry couldn't bring himself to approach Riddle about the questionable points regarding the menagerie break-in that were still bothering him. But seeing Riddle like this, he found it hard to believe the man had planed to willingly sacrifice him to Dumbledore.

Finally, Riddle cut into the silence and fixed Harry again, "There is one more thing we need to discuss. All members of the Fellowship are required to do guard duty in the residential areas of muggleborns and halfbloods. It rarely happens, but sometimes Dumbledore's Order or another group of fanatics hang around and harass the residents.

"We always try to get people to move away from there, but unfortunately many follow the directives quite willingly. There, of course, they are fair game. We have already experienced everything: threats, assault, rape, murder. The latter two don't happen often, but they do happen.

"We try to make sure with our people that such things don't happen. Everyone who lives here and is halfway competent is put into a rotation. Until now, I had planned to exempt you, as you already play an important role in the community and are not really committed to us.

"But I have to say that this thing with Durl has made me question my leniency. I think it would do you good to understand what we are fighting against here and how much your action might have potentially endangered us. I have scheduled you for all Saturdays. You will receive further information. I expect you to stick to it. If not, my still quite generous judgement of you will be subjected to further revisions."

Harry didn't find it in himself to disagree. It sounded like a noble cause, so he nodded. Riddle did the same and as he pointed to the door he said, "You can go now. See yourselves out."

Even as Harry hastily left the room, he saw Riddle take the picture of his wife in his hands and look at it rather emotionlessly. The conversation had not only shaken him up. Harry was suddenly not so sure how much parallelism there really was between Voldemort and the man in the Parlour. He could not imagine Voldemort behaving in such a way, mourning his lost love. Hadn't Dumbledore told him that Riddle was incapable of such feelings? He shook his head involuntarily as he stepped out of Riddle's flat. Trust. Doubt. Which impulse to follow, he knew no longer.

Brooding and gloomy, Harry sat on a bench in the dining hall of the refuge, poking listlessly at his fish casserole, lost in thought. Riddle's harsh lecture wouldn't let him go. Ever since his first Auror colleagues had first been gruesomely injured by his own reckless behaviour, the desire to act more thoughtfully and less impetuously had been steadily growing within him. He had somehow lost that when he had stepped into this world. Harry just stumbled around carelessly. Everything he had done in this dimension had been haphazard.

Eventually he had to face the question of what he wanted to do with himself, so torn away from everything he had known. His knowledge was simply no longer reliable in many aspects. Actually, he had thought he had coped well with his uprooting.

But now, after Riddle had shown his teeth and played up his rank, Harry realised how alone he was. For as sad as it sounded, this reflection of his nemesis was probably the closest contact he had left. Right now he could have used some phoenix singing, but Fawkes had flown off to wherever.

Quite abruptly, a female voice penetrated his gloom: "That mental storm cloud above your head is almost visible. Have you tried blowing it away yet?"

A broadly smiling Asterope sat down opposite him. The corners of his mouth twitched up involuntarily for a moment, but his aggrieved expression still remained. He looked her in the eye for a moment and then replied, "That cloud came from your grandfather. He left it there after a little discussion."

Asterope screwed up her face and said, "Shit. That's how I feel every time he forces his presence on me too. Was it about Durl's release? He didn't decide on punishment or anything like that? You were sure he had no hold over you, weren't you?"

"I seem to have overestimated my position a bit," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. "He gave me a warning. If I do anything like that - whatever else falls under that - again, he'll kick me out. I'm sorry to say that I actually understand his position."

"Why is that? You did what was right. Risky, sure, but necessary. Whatever the old fart said, his rotten interests shouldn't override the good you did. I was sceptical too at first, but freeing Durl was the only right course of action," Asterope reiterated her point. Harry couldn't help smiling mildly as her vehement support did him good. This dimension was ultimately no less contrary to him than his old one and he could certainly use a little encouragement.

He contradicted her nonetheless, because Riddle's argument unfortunately could not be invalidated in this way: "He pointed out to me that I had proceeded rather recklessly and had not listened to his side. For all I knew at the time, Durl could have been a monster. It was an uninformed decision that could have endangered the whole community here. And also what Riddle told me about the goblins contradicts what Durl said. And now I don't know who to believe."

"You trusted your heart, your intuition. That's worth something with mages. Sure it was hasty, but we can afford it, we understand and process things faster than muggles. You don't always need the whole picture. If Durl was really a bad guy you would have heard that resonating in your soul," Asterope replied defiantly. Something fiery entered her eyes as she spoke, a conviction that meant something to her.

Cautiously, therefore, he replied, "That may be. I try not to underestimate the low-threshold forms of divination these days. I have done many things in my life that were stupid in retrospect, but against all odds turned out favourably for me. I was usually lucky with my foolhardy ideas. But it would only take one true mistake and I could ruin myself. Your grandfather reminded me of that. But I appreciate your faith in me. Really."

She smiled mildly and said: "He has this ability. He twists facts and leaves things out until the other person joins his point of view. Let's take the goblin thing, what did he say?"

Harry ran his hand through his hair and explained, "He disputed Durl's claim that the mountain elves would be killed for their half-breed nature. They would even get into the position of reviving old clans if they wanted to. However, the mountain elves are said to be highly suicidal due to their conditioning. That's it in a nutshell."

"Bull's-eye!" exclaimed Asterope so loudly that some in the dining hall turned to look at her. Realising this, she continued, slightly embarrassed, in a softer tone, "These are exactly the kind of half-truths I expect from him. Goblins can win the possessions of other Houses in duels, but not when there is no longer a member of that House. Of course they rejoice at the opportunity to claim riches by slaughtering their impure kin. That's an important fact he left out.

"And I think the suicides thing is a cheap excuse. That way you don't have to question the death toll if you ever hear about it. That's compliant blindness. And that's why I hate him. He does it again and again and again. Both my mother and father died because of shit like this.

"Just so people would willingly run to their doom under him. Just like you would have believed him that Durl is just a confused fool suffering from indoctrinated , Grandfather condones fatalities, he just always has an excuse ready so that it doesn't look like he's to blame."

"Is it all right if I ask how your parents died?" inquired Harry, leaning forward. She nodded slowly and said, "It was one of his reconnaissance missions. Spying on the residence of a known apologist for segregation. He had told them nothing of the known presence of the Walpurgis Order there, nothing of how vigilant those were. He confessed to me later that he had hoped my parents would behave more discreetly and naturally that way.

"But it was also his opinion that they should have been able to deal with the three knights of the order. He did not sound sad, but disappointed. And of course he didn't see any blame on himself. They would have known what they were getting into. After all, it was a dangerous profession to rebel against the regime. He's a cold-hearted arsehole! Don't you fall for his tricks too."

"In a way, that fits better with my actual image of him. It's almost reassuring to learn that he's not really the caring leader he wants to appear to be," Harry interjected.

But inwardly he wondered if Asterope's sight was not also clouded by her grief. True, he was annoyed that Riddle would probably have succeeded in misleading him, but his point still stood. He had no knowledge of his own on the subject and he had to trust someone here. Riddle or Durl and Asterope? It was quite possible that this right existed among the goblins, but did he know if it actually applied? Did Asterope know? Or Durl? He would be careful about what he believed in the future.

"Do you want to know what fascinates me about you?" asked Asterope after a moment of contemplation. "You seem to know my grandfather well enough but you seem to have left no traces at any place. It's like you just stepped out of nowhere. One day you didn't exist and the next you're making a splash.

"I haven't found anything anywhere about a Harry James, not even a Harry Potter, which some here rumour is your real name. Not in the old colonies in America, nor in India or Africa. People here trust my grandfather. But as soon as they realise he doesn't trust you, they'll start asking questions. If I were to ask you who you really are, what would you answer?"

He now leaned away from the table again, and thus away from her. How was he supposed to answer such a profound question? He had expected it, of course. His sudden appearance here was ominous and it had to astonish people. And yet he resisted revealing his secret. He didn't even know exactly why. After all, it would hardly bring him any disadvantage, on the contrary, people would probably understand him better and overlook some of his apparent oddities.

Perhaps it was because it was something that belonged only to him. Well, Riddle and the Snape couple knew. But all three had no reason to reveal it to others. But maybe he was also afraid that they wouldn't believe him and he would be seen as a shameless liar who preferred to surround himself with a mystery rather than trust others. And perhaps it would also reveal him as someone who was not really interested in the cause at all and had only joined their ranks out of pure opportunism. A mercenary who would betray them if it seemed lucrative to him.

Probably all his reasons for not revealing himself flowed together. After a while of hesitation, he answered, choosing his words carefully: "I am not lying when I say that I come from a very distant place. I will not name it for my own safety. Perhaps someday I will trust you enough to tell you about it, but that day has not yet come, Ms Riddle. But of all the people here, you're probably the closest to learning the truth from me. If only because you've shown me some trust with the breaking of Durl's bond."

And even as these words tumbled out of his mouth, he realised that it was true. Everyone else here, from Snape to Mrs Tonks, had wanted hard evidence from him. Magical means to stop him from lying. Asterope had expressed doubts, but had then let him do what was needed. The fact that this thought warmed his heart was probably a little pathetic and symptomatic of his detached position, of his strangeness.

"That's okay," she replied again with the same wide smile with which she had greeted him. When he thought about it more closely, it reminded him of the image of Myrtle Riddle. The grin strongly resembled that of her grandmother. She rose from her seat and as she turned to leave, she announced to him, "And to you, I am Asterope, not Ms Riddle. See you soon, Harry."

Harry watched her go until she had left the room. He felt better. Even if they weren't the best of friends, he had the hope of having found someone in this vale of tears who wasn't potentially his enemy. Of course, it was premature to speak of friendship. Friendly acquaintance, perhaps.

But that was enough for him not to feel completely isolated at the moment. With some reluctance, he wolfed down the remains of his meal as quickly as he could and left the dining hall. If he couldn't find any lofty goals for himself, he could at least take action where he had a little room for manoeuvre - in his classroom. The enchantments did not create themselves, after all, and he could well use the distraction.