Chapter 12: A Midnight Stroll
September turned into October, and Amalia was kept busy as school work piled up, as well as rehearsals for the Yule play. Amalia enjoyed the drama on stage, and the chance to escape from Riddle for an hour or two every other evening. He was taking up a lot of her time, sitting next to her in classes (now almost all of them except Transfiguration) and even during meals. To the outside observer they seemed inseparable friends (or lovers, as most of the school believed) but to those who knew better could see the competitive tension that dominated all their interactions.
Even with all the Riddle-drama in her life, Amalia had still managed to make great strides in her research of mysteries at Hogwarts. She'd narrowed her focus down to one avenue of interest; the Moving Stones said to be located in the Forbidden Forest. Since they were outside the castle itself, and Riddle wasn't an outdoorsy type, she knew he hadn't investigated it.
Research in the library informed her that the Stones in the forest were trail markers on a map to somewhere. No one knew what lay at the end, since no one had ever reached it. There were thought to be seven markers (seven being the most powerful magical number) all linked by devilishly difficult magical riddles. And even the start of the trail was almost impossible to find, since it disappeared and reappeared in a different place every full moon in a seemingly random pattern. Amalia assumed that it meant you'd only have a month to solve all seven clues before the trail reset itself.
Undeterred by this, Amalia started walking the edge of the forest around the castle and along the lake, trying various tracking and locator spells, to no avail. Physically locating it herself seemed impossible - she simply didn't have the time. So she started thinking outside the box.
Several long brainstorming sessions during Defence Against the Dark Arts (since the lessons were worse than useless) resulted in Amalia finally coming up with a solid plan of action.
So one Saturday night, (in late October) she found herself pulling on her outdoor boots, and preparing to sneak out the castle, a pleasant bubble of excitement stirring within.
"I can't believe you're doing this." said Anne, for just about the fifth time.
Just as she had with the first four times, Amalia ignored her. "Do you think I should take my winter coat?"
Charlotte frowned, remembering the weather in the Great Hall over dinner. "It should be clear skies... but it's getting chilly these days."
"Just in case, then," Amalia said, wrapping herself up warmly over her emerald-edged robes.
Callidora was pouting because Amalia refused to take her with.
"I'll be back in a few hours," Amalia said bracingly, clapping her on the shoulder. "And I'll tell you all about it in the morning." she promised.
"Fine. Just... I know you're awesome and everything, but... be careful."
"It is called forbidden for a reason." added Anne anxiously.
Amalia just smiled and put up her hood, and then left before they could argue any more.
It was almost midnight, and the corridors were blessedly empty. The few ghosts patrolling the castle Amalia managed to avoid with relative ease, and she was halfway to the side-door by the greenhouses, when...
"Where are you going?"
Amalia flinched at the familiar clipped tones of the one person she didn't want catching her illicit venture out of the castle.
She fixed a stiff smile on her face and turned around slowly, one hand reaching into her pocket as she did.
He was miles ahead of her, and already twirled his pale wand between his fingers casually.
"Riddle. Why am I not surprised?" she narrowed her eyes at him. Had he put a tracking spell on her...?
"Just answer the question, Gray."
"I'm... going for a stroll." she said, not precisely lying.
His eyes narrowed. "At this time of night?"
"Goodbye, Riddle." She started sidling away, keeping an eye on him as she did.
He snorted in disbelief. "Do you really think I'll let you go?"
"As if you could stop me."
Tom counted to five in his head, trying not to give in to the temptation to hex her on the spot. "Our past... indiscretions... aside, you're out of bounds and past curfew. I'm a prefect."
"So?" she said in a bored tone, her left eyebrow raised.
He fought to keep his temper in check. He could deal with this without endangering his position at the school. For once. "I- You're… getting a detention, Gray."
She snorted with laughter. "Seriously? That's hilarious." She smirked. "Fine. You can give me detentions for the next month, if it pleases you. But I'm going." she gave a mocking bow of her head, sneered "Au revoir!" and strode right past him.
A muscle twitched above his eye. He turned, and slashed his wand through the air, conjuring up a shimmering barrier at the end of the corridor, making Amalia stop abruptly, mid-stride, before she ran nose-first into it.
She turned with a disgruntled expression. "Really? You want to do this again, after what happened last time?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said smoothly, "I'm just a prefect doing his duty to enforce the rules." he rolled up his sleeves briskly, adrenaline thrumming in anticipation. This would be the perfect opportunity to pay her back...
Amalia rolled her eyes and brandished her wand. "I don't have time to play around with you." She muttered a spell and then blew on her open palm. Instantly black smoke billowed outwards, flowing towards him. Tom threw up a shield hastily, unsure of whether she was attacking him or not. The thick black vapor wrapped around his body sinuously, obscuring his senses but leaving him unharmed. By the time he realized it was just a harmless distraction, it was too late.
Steaming with fury, he chanted several spells in the silent darkness until he found the correct one to dispel the smoke. As the corridor cleared seconds later, he noticed his larger barrier was down, and Amalia long gone.
And she'd erased the tracking spell he'd painstakingly (and discreetly) laid on her a week ago.
"Fuck!" he swore loudly.
Once outside the castle itself, Amalia could cast a Disillusionment Charm, which ensured she was undisturbed as she walked for more than half an hour into the Forest.
At last, she found what she'd been looking for, and revealed herself.
She raised her arms slowly and kept a nervous eye on the two deadly-looking arrows that were suddenly trained on her face. As a show of peace, her wand remained stowed away in her coat pocket.
"Ahem," she coughed, trying to force her voice not to squeak. "Um... Greetings."
When the two centaurs made no reply, she forged hastily on. "So... I'm investigating the Moving Stones," she explained calmly, trying to control her racing pulse as the larger, male centaur walked around her rather threateningly. He had a proud, hard expression. "My research will take me deep into the Forest… so I wanted to ask for the centaurs' permission… and also ask... if you know of anything that may help my quest."
"We do not wish the presence of humans here," the male centaur said immediately, his voice harsh and firm, "And we do not offer aid. Begone, whilst our hospitality lasts."
She swallowed hard, and tried to hide her disappointment. As he made a threatening movement towards her she lowered her gaze respectfully. "As- as you wish. I'll go. But… I would not ask for this without offering something in return."
"We want nothing from humans." he spat.
But Amalia noticed that the female centaur had lowered her bow slightly, as if the offer intrigued her. Amalia decided to focus her attention on her. "Is there... something I can help you with? Perhaps a creature of the forest you wish to slay. Or if a human is bothering you - besides me, of course -" her weak joke was met with blank stares, "I can ensure they leave you alone. I can be very persuasive. With my own kind, that is." She smiled weakly, "It seems centaurs are much harder to convince."
The male centaur opened his mouth to reject her offer, again, with an irritated expression, but then the female abruptly spoke. "Wait, Reman. Do not be so hasty to dismiss this one. She is well-mannered, for a two-legger. And brave."
"Or foolish." Snarled Reman. "We want nothing from her kind, Circey!"
The female centaur paced closer, holding Amalia's uncertain gaze with her own direct, pale grey stare. "No, but I know of the Stones she speaks of. Long we have searched for the answers to that mystery ourselves, have we not?"
"No good will come of this! Hold your tongue!"
Circey didn't remove her gaze from Amalia, and ignored her companion, who stamped and pawed the ground in agitation. "Yes, we know of the Stones. They emit a foul aura that pollutes the forest."
"My research told me they were created by a Dark wizard, long ago." Amalia said quietly.
"Then you know the risks. Those that tamper with the Stones and fail to uncover their secrets are cursed. But what is it you want? Do you seek the object they hide?"
"… Object? The books I consulted don't mention an object. They say the Stones lead somewhere."
The female nodded slowly. Amalia shifted uncomfortably under her strong gaze. She hadn't blinked yet. "To the hidden object, yes. But it was hidden by a wizard, many years ago, and only another two-legger can find it."
"Circey, stop this!" Reman was going pale with rage.
Amalia avoided his eyes, and took a step towards Circey, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. "Was it one of the Founders?" some of the books had hinted at the possibility, and she knew only one Founder had dabbled in Dark magic... "Was it Slytherin? Did he hide the object?"
To her immense disappointment, Circey's shaking of her head was firm. "No, it was not that long ago, it was some time after the snake-man's death. He was not Slytherin, but he wore robes of green and black, even as you do." She nodded at Amalia, who looked down. Her Slytherin robes peeped out of the top of her coat. "Perhaps you should ask someone at the castle for help in your search."
Amalia nodded. "I'll try."
"Why have you taken such an interest in this?"
Amalia hesitated. "I want to find this object… Because… well, I'm curious to find out what it is." She admitted, "But if it really is a Dark object, I won't use it." she added quickly.
Reman snorted disbelievingly.
Circey remained unperturbed. "Destroy it, or keep it, as you will, human. Just make sure it does not remain in the Forest."
Amalia bowed her head solemnly. "I promise. Is there anything else you can tell me? I tried to find the first Stone, but... it could be anywhere."
Reman shot her and Circey a disgusted look and turned and galloped from the clearing, his broad shoulders tense with anger.
Circey ignored him again and considered for a moment. "That is not true. It does not move randomly. It is possible to chart the first Stone according to the placement of the heavens."
"Of course," breathed Amalia, eyes shining. "Why didn't I realize that? The phases of the moon change each month- and..." she bit her lip, thinking.
Circey caught onto her train of thought. "Of course, finding the pattern would take years of observation."
"Then... Perhaps someone else has already gone that far." mused Amalia, perking up slightly. It was small... but a definite lead she could follow up on. "Thank you. Do you have any idea what the object is?"
The centaur shook her head. "No. It is well hidden. I will leave you now." She turned and stepped slowly away. "Oh, human…" she didn't look back as she spoke, as if it was just an afterthought. "You are brave... and clever enough, perhaps... to succeed where others have failed. However, do not be reckless. You have made an enemy tonight, and the Forest holds many dangers. Farewell…"
Amalia looked around at the quiet trees and a chill crept over her. She drew her cloak firmly about her shoulders, and recast her Disillusionment Charm over herself. Then she walked quickly back in the direction she'd come.
She'd almost reached the edge of the Forest when a snapping twig alerted her sharp sense of self-preservation. She didn't have time to use magic, but threw herself sideways off the path, slamming her shoulder hard on the gnarled roots of a large tree.
Right where she'd stood the large hooves of the centaur stamped the ground angrily, as Reman made to grab at her with his large, rough hands. She knew the only reason she was alive was because of the Charm still hiding her. But it was an imperfect disguise, and like moving glass, he could now see her shape quite clearly.
She cried out and rolled away, scrabbling with her hands to drag herself upright again against a tree. This was the danger Circey had warned her about!
She fumbled with her wand, her hands bloody from the rough bark of the tree, but wasn't quick enough.
Remano reared and struck out at her, catching her already-bruised shoulder with a glancing blow that sent her flying, her wand slipping from her nerveless hands. The charm ended completely and he roared with triumph, cantering towards her as she lay, defenceless.
She rolled on the ground, clutching her injured shoulder, but at least this time the floor was liberally carpeted with pine needles, which broke her fall. Her eyes found her wand a short distance away, and she gamely crawled towards it.
"We've had enough trouble from your kind," snarled Reman, rearing again, "I will not let you leave here alive!"
Her hand closed on the wood of her wand just in time, and she gasped, "Incarcerous!"
Ropes burst from the end of her wand, wrapping around his legs and torso instantly. She barely had time to roll out of the way again, as he came crashing down to the forest floor.
She straightened up, shakily, brushing the pine needles out of her hair. Her left shoulder was just one massive throbbing bruise, but she was reasonably certain nothing was broken.
"I don't wish to be your enemy," she snapped at the furious centaur, twitching helplessly on the ground. He was muffled by a gag (fortunately; his expression was livid). "So I'm leaving now. The spell will wear off in an hour."
With that, she spat on the ground contemptuously next to him, and then stomped away, limping slightly and grumbling to herself about racist centaurs.
Riddle sprang up as the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room opened, admitting Amalia.
"How dare you-" he started furiously, with his speech he had practised for the past four hours, but then the words died in his throat.
She limped into the light, her unimpressed left eyebrow raised as usual, but her eyes were glazed over in exhaustion and pain. She clutched her left shoulder gingerly with her right hand, and there was a shadow of a bruise on her left cheek.
"What happened?" he asked in a shocked voice.
She stepped around him and sank into one of the emerald-green couches stiffly, wincing. "It's none of your concern."
He stepped forward, examining her suspiciously, and picked a pine needle from her hair. "The Forbidden Forest?"
She drew her wand and he stepped back quickly. But she ignored him, yawned and then said, "Accio Healer's Compendium!" She didn't want to wake up her friends by doing this in the dormitory. The same well-thumbed volume she'd used to heal Riddle flew out of the stairwell from the dormitories, and she caught it gingerely.
She winced again and his eyes found her hands, which were encrusted with deep, bloody scratches.
She pointed her wand awkwardly at her left hand and mumbled the healing spell, which closed the scratches and stopped the bleeding, though she'd need murtlap essence to heal them properly. Then she hesitated and looked at her right hand - spell-casting with one's left hand was not impossible, but generally spells were clumsier. And her fingers were still somewhat numb from the chilly night air.
Riddle sat down across from her and glanced at the healing spell in the book. "I'll do it if you tell me what happened." He said, his voice gentle. Sincere.
He's up to something. Amalia eyed him suspiciously, and then shrugged and chuckled. "Well, that beats a death threat."
"I've used up my quota for today."
Amalia's eyes widened. Tom Riddle, making a joke?! And a civil bargain, to boot!
"Throw in an annulment of that detention, and I'll tell you." She said slyly.
"Fine."
She smiled, and handed him the book. Wonders never ceased…
"I was in the Forbidden Forest." She admitted, "I had to ask the centaurs something."
He waved his wand and focused on her hands, as the bloody scratches slowly closed. "The centaurs?" whatever he'd expected, it certainly wasn't that. He glanced up, looking amused, "Well, I assume they weren't very helpful."
Amalia spent a moment admiring his dark eyelashes. He was really blessed, to have such a face... "On the contrary," she said with a grin, "I learnt a lot. One centaur tried to kill me as I was leaving, but the other had already helped, so I wasn't too annoyed."
He took her hand, his grasp warm and surprisingly gentle, and murmured the spell to clean away the blood. Amalia felt a tingling warmth spreading from the hand he touched, and she didn't think it was from the spell. It was the first time he'd touched her of his own volition, and she had to admit it was doing crazy things to her heart.
He looked up from under his lashes at her, his dark gaze curiously alluring from this angle. He even smelt good, his fingers soft on her aching palms. She resisted the urge to throw herself away from him… or towards him. This felt too pleasant. Too dangerous. "So," he murmured quietly, his tone husky, "What did you learn?"
His question ironically drew her out of her daze and prompted her to think again. "Oh, that's right…" her gaze went unfocused as she thought about what Circey had said. "I need to find out about a Slytherin who was at Hogwarts a long time ago… three hundred years at least, but after the Founders' time…" she suddenly had a great idea. "Riddle, where does the Bloody Baron hang out?"
He released her hand, healed, and glared moodily at her, standing up.
She deflated slightly as she recognized the end of their brief, non-confrontational talk. A curious realization struck her. We would make a good team. She almost laughed out loud. The thought was preposterous, of course.
"He never leaves the dungeons, except for feasts," Riddle said with a shrug, "But you won't have any luck with him. He never speaks to students."
Amalia stood up. "Well, we'll see." She said, determination in her eyes. She turned to the dormitories. "Oh… and, thanks, Riddle."
He made no reply except a sour glare, and she shrugged and left.
He stared after her, and then looked down at his hands, which still had a smear of her blood on them. His lip curled in disgust.
I hate centaurs.
The strength of the sudden thought left him bemused. He shook his head and left the Common Room, suddenly keen on heading to bed before more troublesome thoughts wormed their way into his consciousness.
Author's note:
Thanks a bunch for all the reviews! I really appreciate everyone's enthusiasm for where this story is going. I was relieved at the amount of people who love "jealous Tom"; I was afraid people might see it as OOC. But my reasoning was: although he doesn't like Amalia (consciously) in that way (yet), there's definitely a sense of ownership already. He knows they have something unique and sharing is not in his nature.
If you're still wondering about Rosier's thoughts/ reactions to what happened in the last chapter, relax... I'll be addressing all of it in time. (VoldemortsBFF, I'm so glad you like Rosier's character. Is it bad that I kinda want to write a scene where he goes shopping or something with Amalia as her gay friend? Lol, they're not quite there yet though.)
Also, in this chapter it's mentioned that a certain Dark object is up for grabs at the end of the mystery trail. Please leave a review if you have any thoughts on what it should be, since I haven't quite decided yet. It needs to be an enchanted magical object, as powerful or as lame as you want. If anyone thinks of something interesting, I might just use it.