Author's Note: A short chapter, my apologies. I like this one at least though.
The Ancient Runes exam, the last for the first week, went fairly well Charlotte felt. She finished with a bit of time to spare, during which she studied for some of the O.W.L.s she had remaining, mainly Potions, as it was next. When the test was over, she waited to see if Tom would join her to walk back to the common room, but he seemed to be in conversation with one of the examiners, so she left on her own. One flight of stairs down, amid the stream of students moving in the opposite direction, she spotted Oliver. He saw her too, making eye contact and immediately trying to make his way over to her. She had been avoiding him whenever she saw him ever since she'd left him and his friends at their table in The Three Broomsticks. With term ending soon, there was little opportunity left to make amends, and if something was not said before then, the likelihood of her ever seeing him again decreased considerably; for that reason, she stayed put and waited to hear what he would say.
"Charlotte," he greeted her. "Glad you didn't run off this time."
"I hope I'll be glad of it too," she answered expectantly.
He sighed. "Look, I don't know what to say except I'm sorry that that happened, but I want us to talk about it. I don't like the thought of you resenting me forever and me not even knowing why."
Charlotte gave one small nod, and then, looking around at the people moving past, some giving them annoyed looks for being in the way, said, "Somewhere else?"
"Right," Oliver said. "There should be an empty classroom around here somewhere." Charlotte followed him down the hallway until they found a place to talk.
"Was it that thing I said about Tom?" Oliver asked as they stepped into a room, leaving the door open.
"No." At first she couldn't even remember what he had said, but then recalled the suggested attempt at provoking Tom's jealousy, to see if it was there still.
"Oh, that's good then. I thought that could be why you were avoiding me."
"No," she said again. She was slightly annoyed he didn't even realize the reason she had been so upset. Yet after thinking this, she realized, as she tried to tell him that reason, she wasn't sure of it herself.
"We can't get anywhere if you won't say anything more about it," he said. "I'm sorry I don't know what to apologize for, but I want to know so it doesn't happen again."
"None of you said anything to contradict him!" Charlotte blurted. "You're Gryffindors—courageous. But you didn't defend me, so that means… you agree with him." She'd found the reason.
Oliver stayed silent for a while. "Not agree, exactly… but it didn't seem wrong either—don't get angry and leave," he said quickly. Charlotte stayed, but instinctively folded her arms in disapproval. "I won't lie; sometimes we make jokes about purebloods. It doesn't affect any of us, so your reaction caught us off-guard. But of course it makes complete sense and it wouldn't happen again, if there were ever the chance that it might," he said, ending in a tone that spoke of sadness. He had to be thinking of how he and his friends would soon be leaving Hogwarts.
"I suppose that even though graduation is a momentous, exciting occasion, it's sad too, isn't it?" she said, content to change the subject.
"It's definitely sad. I'll miss everyone here—the castle itself too, it's like a second home. I'll miss spending time in the common room with the other Gryffindors, the mealtimes together; I'll even miss the panicked last minute studying before an exam," he laughed and then became serious again. "I know that I won't ever be in a place like this again. It makes you almost not want to leave, you know?"
"I hadn't thought about it like that. I've never thought that far ahead." She then hurried to correct herself, "Well I have thought that far ahead, but not about that in particular."
"So, is my apology accepted?" Oliver asked, returning to their original topic.
"I guess." Charlotte shrugged, not wanting to think about it anymore, but she smiled at him.
"Good," he said. "I want us to stay friends even after I leave Hogwarts."
Her smile grew. "I'd like that too. I want to hear about all the dark wizards you'll have saved us from."
"I think I have to train quite a bit before I get to that point."
"Well hopefully we'll be friends for that long, and beyond that."
They were both grinning in silence looking at each other when Tom walked by.
He came from the wrong direction when Charlotte noticed him, so he must have gone past, seen them, or her at least, and decided to come back. He stood in the doorway shifting his gaze between them. "Do you have permission to use this room?"
"Tom," Charlotte laughed. He couldn't be serious. She looked at him; he didn't appear to be joking. His jaw was set, his eyebrows slightly raised, eyes boring into her. Not much different from how he looked when he admonished noisy first years in the common room.
"The two of you alone in a classroom—people could get the wrong idea."
"People, like you?" Charlotte said, now realizing what she was dealing with. "That would be the wrong idea alright."
"The door's wide open. Anybody can see we're just talking. We just wanted someplace quiet and out of people's way," said Oliver.
Charlotte turned fully towards Tom. "That's right. If we wanted to do anything else, we would close the door. You know that." She flirted with him in the hopes that any unjustified thoughts of suspicion would be cast out of his mind, although she didn't expect he would like that it was in front of Oliver. Tom didn't say anything, but one side of his mouth curved up.
"Should I go and close the door behind me?" Oliver asked with a laugh, but also with a tenseness that suggested he was uncomfortable; Charlotte had thought, because he was friends with Elliot and Elizabeth, he wouldn't have been bothered too much by a comment like that. She turned towards him looking apologetic.
"We're going," Tom said. "Or—" he corrected himself, "I'm going. Back to the common room. Charlotte, you're welcome to join me." She agreed, with the intention of, along the way, making Tom understand that he didn't need to do things like that, and that she would be happier if he didn't. But somehow she couldn't find the words. Tom, evidently not interested in discussing the event, walked most of the way in silence, making small talk only.
The last day of term. That would be the day.
Tom was reluctant to create the Horcrux while there remained any great length of time that he would be at Hogwarts that year. He'd realized he wasn't certain how apparent the physical effects of having made the Horcrux would be, and the last thing he wanted was for anyone to figure out what he had done. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. It was too dangerous.
The object—whatever it was; he still hadn't decided—would stay in the Chamber of Secrets, the only place where he knew it would be safe for the time being. But what could he use? He had considered taking something from Hogwarts, something that wouldn't go amiss, but stealing something just to steal didn't suit him; it had to represent something more.
Something commonplace had to have its advantages, he tried to convince himself. An ordinary object wouldn't draw attention, making it easier to hide. He irritatedly concluded that was a moot point, however, because he didn't want to hide the Horcruxes he would make in plain sight; that was not enough protection for something in which he would keep a piece of his soul.
A piece of himself… which would carry with it his own will, to some extent, but with the right enhancements… It could be made to do even more than ensure his immortality. He knew that Horcruxes had the potential to possess people, if a person became attached enough to the object. It required more thought, but he might be able to use such a method to reopen the Chamber of Secrets, to forgo passing the task of Heir on to another—a child that he didn't want nor saw himself ever having.
While he thought about this, he was rearranging things inside his school trunk, packing while he had time now, rather than after exams, because he needed all his spare time then to make the Horcrux. Again, he agitatedly wondered what it should be. The pressure of time was making it difficult for him to think calmly about it, but he knew that this was an unchangeable decision, irrevocable into eternity, if everything went to plan—which he did not doubt that it would—and therefore needed to be taken very seriously. So he tried to be levelheaded, dulling the overexcitement and eagerness he felt when he considered that he would soon have made a Horcrux, something very few, if even more than one, other wizards had done.
He reached into the bottom of the trunk and pulled out a small, nondescript, black book with the year embossed on the cover. The diary he'd purchased on Vauxhall Road with some pocket money from the orphanage. He would have much preferred a diary made for a wizard, as they sold in Flourish and Blotts, but had chosen to spend the funds given to him by Hogwarts on other things. Aside from his name on the first page, he'd never written in it. By the time 1943, the year for which it was intended, came around, he'd forgotten he had it. He'd discovered he could make his own with magic and had done so, using that to keep track of assignments, when he would spend time with Charlotte, as well as the dates on which he planned attacks; this muggle diary couldn't have been used for that, anyway.
Tossing the diary onto a pile of other items he intended to discard, his thoughts returned to Horcruxes. How could he entice someone to form the kind of bond that was needed for controlling that person, with something seemingly inanimate? It needed a way to communicate; possessed of his ability to charm and persuade, the soul fragment would surely be able to achieve its end.
Having done all he could towards packing, he closed the trunk and moved to collect the things he had laid aside. Then, looking at the diary, it struck him. The pages could be written on and the diary could answer back. And the diary was exactly the kind of easily concealable object that could be carried around without raising suspicion, making it ideal for giving to someone to return to Hogwarts with and eventually reopen the Chamber. Everything fell into place. It was brilliant.
Author's Note: So that's that sorted—the reasoning for the diary Horcrux. What do you think?
Also I already have some of the writing done for the next chapter, and I aim to have it out soon, to make up for this short one.