Hi guys, like I mentioned in my profile, here is the chapter I wrote for Camp Nano. I was supposed to edit it and post in May so I could again take up the next chapter for Camp Nano June but since the quarantine has been extended, writing will be a majority of my schedule for May (so it looks like at least right now). I have the next chapter outlined and ready to be written so it should be easier, granted my pretty muses behave and cooperate.
Anyway, enough rambline from me!
Thank you Cassie-011
The room was tiny. The door extended into a small hallway like nook, fitted with a window at the other end. A desk was situated right under it, the chair; simple, wooden and straight backed, pushed neatly under it. The wall on the right of the door, had a small three shelf built in cupboard, one that I looked into briefly before shutting decidedly.
Lastly, I looked at the bed. It was pushed right against one wall, barely any space left between it and the desk. Made with off white sheets and a thin, thin mattress, it came nowhere close to the beds I was used to, the one back home or even the four poster in the Hogwarts dormitory. Heck, the hammocks in the Room of Requirement used to look more inviting.
However, with the shock of everything, with the fear that still pounded at being in close quarters with a Dark Lord…I sighed, flopping on top of it. The iron frame creaked in protest, reluctantly bearing my weight but I closed my eyes resolutely.
I had no potions that would help me with a dreamless sleep but I hoped with everything I had to just be able to…black out completely.
A loud yell shook up from the floors of my bedroom, jolting me out of my cozy slumber and thundering me towards wakefulness; I turned angrily to the door, listening.
"Girls, I swear, if you both are not up and out of your rooms in five minutes, I am going to leave you here. I paid too much for these tickets to just miss the World Cup and I will not wait further."
Marion Alton was usually an elegant woman who didn't think shouting did much, but it was obvious that right now those sentiments were out of the question. Quidditch was one of the hobbies my mother had nurtured from her school days and it was still one of the only things she kept hidden under wraps of the cultivated image of Wizarding nobility.
"I'm up," I screamed back, in case she decided to blow my door open and hurried to my feet, blankets askew on my body. I quickly pulled on the pants and jumper I'd set out the night ago, walking out with the trainers unlaced.
"Me too," I opened the door to find Pamela already dressed, her shirt a little rumpled as she nervously ran a hand over it.
"Did you sleep wearing that?" I asked suspiciously but my sister ignored me, following our mother to the dining room where breakfast was being served. Unlike other ancient pureblood families; the Altons never made use of House Elves. No, we always had 'help'.
A young girl bowed slightly at my mother's entrance before leaving the room. We sat down to the small breakfast quickly, my mother as jittery as a fairy newly introduced to a garden.
"Mum, calm down, we're apparating anyway." I said, hoping that it would ease out some of my mother's nerves but she only looked up sternly, her wand already at the ready to clear the table.
She only gave us about ten minutes, to gobble up the simple sandwiches and apple juice before the sleek length of her wand swished and the plate collected neatly together, landing at one end of the table in a pile to be taken away as she stood up.
"I would think you girls would be a bit more excited. Don't you want to see your friends?" She hurried to the front entrance of the manor, her crimson robe fluttering at her ankles.
"Yes," Pam and I both chorused. My mother sighed, her wand whisking again as my shoe laces tied themselves, and then she was holding out her hand. "Come on, grab on, we have places to be."
Pamela and I grabbed hands before gripping tightly onto hers. My mother closed her eyes and then we were gone, squeezing through a dark tightness that existed within the spaces between spaces.
A series of soft taps landed on wood, and I opened my eyes almost reflexively. The wall in front of my eyes was unfamiliar, a bleak pale grey that resembled the sky outside the small window. I raised my body up on my elbows, peering out the scratchy glass when another patter of knocks fell on the door.
I swiveled my head, looking suspiciously at the thin door, realizing where I was and why and how.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I approached the door, barely opening it – just a crack. I didn't know if it was going to be Voldemort, even if I doubted it strongly. However, Dumbledore might just have put him in charge of me till I was at Hogwarts and just the thought of that was nauseating to me.
No, Dumbledore wouldn't do that. He was already suspicious of Tom Riddle and he wouldn't put me in that sort of place. My mind tried hard to console me; however, pessimism wasn't too far behind.
Yes, but he was also suspicious of you. Maybe between Tom and you, he decided you were more dangerous.
"Um, good morning," A soft voice pulled me out of my reverie and I focused finally on the face that was trying to peek in through the gap of the door.
"Uh, yeah?" I called back.
"My name is Anne, Miss Revel. We saw each other yesterday when you came in." The girl said.
'Saw each other' was a bit of a reach, I thought, considering the girl had just poked her head in, received an order and departed but I supposed that was enough for her.
"Yes, I remember." I hastily tacked on, still lingering behind the door and wondering what she wanted.
The girl hesitated too.
"As you see, it's morning now. You missed supper last night. Miss Cole said to let you rest as you might have had a tiring journey but she is asking for you now." Anne said.
"Oh," I blinked, the door pulled open further to reveal Anne properly. I had deduced she was a few years older than me, fairly pretty with dishwater blond hair that she'd bunched together. Her eyes were drawn to the clothes I'd fallen asleep in.
"The washroom is right through this hallway, there are spare towels and uniforms in the closet. We're going to be in the breakfast room." Anne nodded before turning on her heel and climbing down the stairs.
I quickly shut the door after her, haphazardly pulling open the closet door. I had a role to play, and while I would've dearly loved to be left alone till I had to depart, I knew that was a moot point. This was an orphanage, not my home or my school. I couldn't do whatever I wished here. Looking at the deep black and gray uniform that I'd gathered together and a threadbare towel, I went to look for a bath.
Everybody seemed to have already assembled by the time I made it downstairs. I took a deep breath, right behind the archway from where I could hear light chatter come from.
I could do this. I was just acting out as an assassin sent from the future on the words of a man who doesn't know me. Oh…and I'm just about fifty years back in time, no big deal at all.
I stepped forward.
The breakfast room was as grey as the rest of the orphanage, the only light filtering from the windows making things look a teensy bit brighter. The children in black and grey sitting at the rectangular table didn't provide an impression of a cheery atmosphere but the slight conversations going about certainly tried its best.
Miss Cole sat at the head of the table, her head turning to look at my entrance. "Ah, Miss Revel, do join us."
I fumbled with the overly long sleeves of the uniform, looking around at the faces that turned to gawk at me. The talking stopped and even though I wanted to meet the eyes coolly, I chose to look at Miss Cole only.
"Right here," she waved a hand clockwise the table, "this is Amy Benson, beside her is Dennis Bishop." She began introductions. "Over here, that's Billy Stubbs and Eric Whaley, and this is Martha and Anne, you already know."
Finally she waved a hand towards the other side of the table, between Dennis Bishop and Billy Stubbs. "That there is Tom Riddle, the one you'll go to school with. Mr. Dunkerton introduced you yesterday."
I blinked. Did she mean Dumbledore? I glanced out of my eye at Tom Riddle.
He was easy to catch, especially if you weren't hell bent on avoiding him. The tallest and best looking out of the bunch, with his dark head bowed, he looked up at the sound of his name, fixing me with gaze that was unreadable and impenetrable.
His face, as pallid as it had been the first time, was carefully constructed into polite disinterest. Try as I may I couldn't pin point a particular emotion in those black eyes. His eyes remained on me for a full minute, before I looked away again, uncomfortable at the eye contact.
However, even with him paying no attention, the fact that him and I would be going to school together had seemed to launch a stir through the crowd. The gawking intensified, almost becoming stern glares, full of suspicion and mistrust.
I mentally cursed Cole at blurting out that fact. Couldn't she keep things to herself?
"Come then, child, sit. Right here, next to Anne." Miss Cole called out again.
Knowing that I couldn't keep standing there, being glared at like a monkey, I took a step, moving where I was wanted. Of course, I told myself, it didn't matter if she said it now or later; people would know Tom Riddle and I had left together, and they would be able to put two and two together – associate us together.
I gritted my teeth.
The arrangement of the table put me diagonally opposite to Voldemort, right across and next to the boys named Billy Stubbs and Eric Whaley.
Billy was a thin boy with sandy hair, hanging low on his face and he met my eyes shyly before looking down into his plate. Eric was stout, some sort of metal latched to his teeth as he chewed, not even bothering to look at me as I sat down. I looked between both of them and then Riddle, who had removed his gaze by now, a delicate spoonful of porridge lifting to his mouth.
Looking to the other side, I saw Cole speaking to the Martha girl, while Amy and Dennis sat almost still, not moving a lot as they ate slowly – almost like puppets.
"Hi," I said to Anne who widened her eyes at me a little, probably startled that I had initiated conversation.
"Hello," she mumbled nearly in her mouth.
My slight smile flickered at the way she looked down quickly before I realized.
They were all scared. They were all scared of me now that they knew who I was going to go about with. I glanced at Tom Riddle again, almost angrily – although I knew it wasn't going to do much good. He was already ruining my chances at settling down in a time I was sent to for eliminating him.
I looked resignedly down at the porridge bowl, picking up my spoon.
Well, I decided, stabbing at the lumpy mush. No way was he going to win this time.
"Hey," I looked around, my hand clasped onto the handle of my door. The breakfast, as dry as it had been, had filled up my stomach and while there was no good company, I knew I was going to be relegated to my room for the duration of my stay here.
It was Eric Whaley, with Billy Stubbs trailing after him, a meek and pensive look on their faces. However, it seemed Whaley was trying to appear tough as he clicked his tongue and folded his arms across his chest.
"You're the new girl, the one going to that nut house," he stopped, correcting himself quickly, "that school, with Riddle?"
I frowned, somewhat amused but not wanting to make it obvious. "That's what Miss Cole said."
Eric didn't seem to appreciate the snark so I stuck out my hand. "Roselle," I introduced, not bothering to worry about last names.
The boy looked down at the proffered appendage, mildly surprised. He glanced back at Billy before taking the hand, a too big, kind of sweaty hand shaking it up and down once and letting go. "Eric Whaley; that there is Billy Stubbs." He jerked a thumb behind his shoulder at the smaller boy.
"Hi Billy," I said gently, reminding myself that although I was fifteen again, I still had been around smaller, shier kids.
He looked up, smiling for the first time, mimicking the gesture. "Hello Roselle, welcome to Wool's, that's what we wanted to tell you." He said.
I chuckled. "Yeah, thank you. I didn't know the welcome wagon came a day late here."
"You weren't going to get one at all. We're just trying to be nice. What with you hanging about Riddle, it's made people antsy." Eric grunted.
"Wait," I frowned. "I don't hang about Riddle. I don't even know him. I'm new to the school." I said quickly, dispelling the illusion as fast as it was created.
There was silence.
"You're…not like him?" Billy asked finally. Both Eric and Billy exchanged covert glances.
"I don't know what you mean by that." I evaded when another step distracted us, a figure joining us near the top of the stairs.
"Miss Revel."
Eric and Billy were the first to turn, heads swiveling in the new company's direction. Tom Riddle stood, calm and composed, one hand on the rails of the stairs, eyes on us.
"Are you available? Might I request a word?" he said, still composed, acting as if Billy and Eric weren't even standing there with me. I looked on as the two boys muttered under their breaths.
"See you around, Revel." Eric said, before the two were pushing on away, vanishing into another hall.
By the time I looked back around, Voldemort had moved much closer, standing right in front of me. The movement was so subtle, it made me back up a bit, press up against the wooden door. He didn't seem to be fazed from my obvious discomfiture, almost looking bored as he held hands behind his back.
He wasn't wearing the grey uniform, I noticed, instead clothed in a simple white button up and black trousers. His hair was still perfect coiffed with that stupid bang left handing on his face. It took me a few seconds before I realized he was waiting for me to say something.
"Who are you?" I asked before mentally face palming myself.
That's amazing, Roselle. 'Who are you?' that's the best you could come up with? That's so bloody transparent.
For his part, the Dark Lord didn't seem much too bothered.
"My name," he began, "is Tom Riddle. I am going to be a fellow schoolmate of yours at Hogwarts."
"Oh," I straightened, away from the door. I was not about to show weakness to him. "Is that so?"
Riddle nodded. "Professor Dumbledore had a word with me about you. He told me the…circumstances." Something in the corner of his mouth quirked.
It immediately made me bristle. What could Dumbledore have possibly told him?
"As I am a prefect of Hogwarts, he has asked me to be mindful of your stay here." He finished whatever he was saying, with me paying literally no attention.
"Right," I looked up at his face – big mistake.
Those black eyes were boring into mine, and it reminded me of Snape's – too cold, too black, with nothing behind them. Even then, Snape was usually easy to pry into. This young man…he was impenetrable. At least to me…
"Miss Revel, are you quite okay?" He asked and when I met his eyes again, there was concern glinting in those wells.
What did that mean? Wasn't he supposed to be an unfeeling shell of a man? It immediately struck me he was acting. My eyes narrowed and I plastered on a simpering smile, somewhat shaky.
"Oh yes, yes, it's just…it's a little hard for me to take, that's all." I said, putting in as much misery as I could into my voice. What with the recent loss and misery that had shrouded me in the infirmary, it wasn't too hard. "I'll be fine."
Riddle's head tilted to one side, eyes no longer worried. They had closed off again and it made me wonder if he had only put on the show so I would blurt out something emotional. Maybe my own act had pulled off; he didn't consider it worthy to act on.
"Understandable," he said. "We shall be going to Diagon Alley tomorrow. There might be a few things you would like to fetch before we depart for Hogwarts. Gringotts will set you up with a student account; Dumbledore should've spoken to them about it already." He nodded to me once, a quick sweep of his eyes over my figure before he was turning and walking away.
I studied his feet to see if he was going to glide. No, he put one foot in front of the other.
Wait…you just had a conversation with a young Voldemort. Something screamed at me and I baulked, turning to my door and getting inside, leaning on it with heavy breaths.
Unfortunately…there was no bolt and I had no way to shut myself in safely. It didn't strike me until later as to question why he was telling me things that Dumbledore should've told me about.
Waking up the next morning was probably the most daunting. The idea of going to Diagon Alley, no – the idea of going anywhere with Voldemort, was nerve wracking. The heat from dreams unforgotten had cooled on my skin, leaving a thin uncomfortable sheen.
It was too early, I noted, from the near white light that seeped in through the tiny window but I couldn't go back to sleep, not when images of Harry's panicked face vanishing in green light made me toss and turn, not when burning red eyes contrasted with haunting black ones and I couldn't choose which was the one I needed to point my wand at.
Rolling over, I rotated my head, deciding I would get an early shower and dress soon, not to worry about Tom Riddle hexing me in the bath. Sweeping up the clothes Madam Blishen had given me upon my discharge from the infirmary, I exited the room, as quiet as I could possibly be. I didn't want to wear the grey uniform outside and I didn't have any robes I could wear to the Alley. I wondered if I would be able to buy something decent with whatever money Gringotts would loan me.
The clothes on, I raised my wand, about to iron out the wrinkle when I stopped. If I was fifteen again, I would have the Trace back on. I couldn't do magic anymore. I slowly pulled away the wand, gazing wanly at the Elder Oak length.
"Excuse me, is someone in?" A knock came on the bathroom door.
"Yeah, be right out." I called back, pocketing my wand and exiting, passing by the girl I remembered as Martha. She smiled softly at me. "Going out?" she asked.
I paused in my steps. "Oh yes, um, I have to shop for a few things…I'll be with Riddle." I said. It was probably pointless, telling this muggle girl about where I would be and with whom. There was nothing she could do but I still let it out, maybe if someone knew, they could warn Dumbledore if I didn't make it back here.
"Oh," she fumbled, her eyes shifting towards the stairs. "Have...a nice time, then…and be careful." She mumbled as she entered the bathroom but I caught the words. Well, that was encouraging. I patted the pocket I'd kept my wand in.
Diagon Alley was packed.
People my age, quickstepped, to and fro, in and out of shops with arms full of baskets and bags of their shopping and older witches and wizards tried to push past the crowds, muttering about children leaving things till the last minute.
I smiled gently; some things never changed.
Riddle, it seemed, liked to lead. He marched, head up throughout the streets of London, a few roads down the orphanage till I could spot the dingy but famous entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. He didn't wait to see if I was keeping up, never turned his head and only paused in the brick courtyard of the pub.
For my part, I slinked after him, trying to be as imperceptible as possible. I was out and about, alone with a man who had killed me once before and even though he was much younger, I doubted he shied away from the technicalities of first degree murder.
He pulled out his wand and even as my eyes fell on the sleek white wand with a claw like handle, I had shivered. That wand had been pointed at me not so very long ago and Riddle turned, head angled at my shudder.
"Something the matter, Miss Revel?" he asked.
I looked away from his wand, lest he become suspicious. "No, it's just…nice wand." I said lamely.
He didn't answer, tapping the brick which glowed, slotting in and then melting away, leaving behind an archway that I was glad to lose him in.
"Meet me back here precisely at 2." Riddle commanded before he was turning and whipping away.
The first place I went to was Gringotts. The marble halls were comforting and without Riddle around, I didn't have to pretend to fumble my way about. I walked up to a free goblin, almost once slipping and giving away my name as Alton before I collected my wits.
"New student?" He asked, looking down a register.
"Yes, I wanted to ask about the student loan."
"Yes," the goblin pushed the register towards me. "Roselle Revel; Albus Dumbledore sent an owl as to your enrolment."
I thanked my stars and Dumbledore, neatly scribbling down a signature next to the name and he handed me a pouch. "Fifty galleons, hundred sickles and Knuts; ought to last you a year." He said, waggling a finger at me that I meekly nodded at.
Once I had the money, I felt much better walking around the alley. First, I visited the Post Office, quickly scribbling down a letter to Dumbledore about how I was in Diagon Alley and was going to do my shopping, thanking him for settling the Gringotts account.
And then…I went properly shopping.
Surprisingly, it wasn't very hard to find Riddle in the mass of the dwindling crowds.
Entirely too tall for his age with that black head, he was easy to spot in his pristine white shirt and simple black robe which he probably kept with him in case he wanted to wander around in the Wizarding community.
I loosened my grip on the bag that held three sets of my school robes and two normal sets of robes and school books. What was he doing here?
Of course, he didn't look very suspicious; a good looking young man window shopping wouldn't draw too much attention in this place. However, there was one person to whom his every action was very suspicious.
And no, I didn't mean Dumbledore.
I ducked, right behind a stand in front of Potage's, watching hawk eyed as Riddle paused, seemingly interested in a colorful display of broomsticks. I curbed the urge to snort. Yeah right, the Dark Lord, interested in Quidditch.
Then, even as I blinked he was stepping to the other side, walking into a building, as silent and smooth as a shadow.
I don't know what possessed me to do it. It was incredibly stupid but I knew even before my grip tightened back on the handles of the shopping bags.
I was going to snoop.
The restaurant young Mr. Voldemort had entered was filled with commercial smoke. In my haste to follow Riddle, I had forgotten to note the name of the establishment before I'd rushed in.
Aside from all the smoky secrecy, the seating arrangements were all enclosed, providing the perfect spot to…say a Dark Lord planning something nefarious.
I left the bags near the door, clenching my wand in my pocket as I inched forward.
No one came to seat me; no one approached anyone at all, seeing as it was pretty much unoccupied except for the occasional canoodling couple or some guy with a shifty eye.
All harmless, except for the booth where I could spot a familiar looking shadow, upright as he towered over some other male figures. I crept closer, before standing behind a pillar, just in case someone peeked around the enmeshment.
"…so, why exactly did you choose this place, Tom? It's a little…shady to be seen here, isn't it?" Someone spoke.
"I assure you, Rosier; no one you know will find you here. You are quite safe." That was Riddle.
"I'm – I'm not worried about me…I'm just," Rosier attempted to continue when he was cut off.
"Anyway, you called us here to discuss something important?" I frowned at that voice; it was familiar as well, but not the voice itself, and rather its tenor – its swagger.
"I did indeed, Malfoy." My eyes widened. "There has been a…form of development." Riddle said.
"What kind of development?" Another unfamiliar voice said.
"Someone of alleged Magical heritage has recently joined my…" a pause, "place of residence."
I rolled my eyes. Smooth Riddle, too uptight to say the word 'orphanage?'
"Oh," There was a brief, palpable silence within the occupants.
"Must be due to the war," Someone said.
"She is close to Albus Dumbledore." Tom Riddle continued, as if he hadn't heard what the others were saying.
Another silence, this time heavy for a very different reason…
"Do you think…" the person lowered their voice, "He is spying on you?"
"If he were; I certainly doubt it would be through the eyes of a fifteen year old girl. She doesn't seem to have any threatening qualities."
I quelled an indignant snort.
"However, she is…powerful. Her magic gives off a very distinct aura, even at our age." He continued.
"Maybe…" Rosier spoke again, timidly. "Maybe it's nothing. Grindelwald is taking over quickly. Even that muggle Hitler, he's probably killed a lot of Wizards and Witches with that bomb thing the muggle are all afraid of. Maybe it's just a coincidence."
"What if it were?" Malfoy snorted and I imagined punching him in the face.
"It is too soon to make presumptions." Riddle said suddenly and the conversation ceased. "Whatever the girl's reasons, they will be easy enough to find out."
A voice that suspiciously sounded like Hermione's echoed in my mind, her book swallowing voice recounting the ways Voldemort used to seduce to destroy.
"What's the plan Riddle? What about the Cham-,"
"Silence," Riddle's voice was silken, but the way the entire table seemed to chill at his voice, made me wonder what he looked like.
"And…the girl…?"
"Leave the girl to me, Dolohov. She could be corrupted. It would be very easy."
I drew away from the pillar, having heard more than enough and quickly made my way out of the restaurant, the bags of shopping suddenly too heavy in my worried arms.
The grip on my wand handle never loosened.
There's the Tommyboy we know and love. I hope I did some justice to the character even though he's just been introduced. Hope you like the chapter!
Until next time!
