Author's note:

Thanks for the great suggestions I got from some people in response to the last chapter. I've been really inspired and I'm definitely incorporating some things into my plot! Special shout out to Lady Ravana for her very cool ideas :D

Chapter 13: The Bloody Baron

The Bloody Baron was hard to find.

Firstly, out of all the ghosts at Hogwarts he was just about the most antisocial. Gryffindor had Nearly Headless Nick, who was always willing to blather on about just about anything. Hufflepuffs had the Fat Friar, a jolly ghost who always seemed to be laughing about something (which became annoying quickly, but at least he was friendly). The Grey Lady was almost as morose as the Baron, sure, but she would still respond if you addressed her politely. The Slytherin ghost, however, seemed permanently bad-tempered and actively avoided all contact. He only pitched up for official feasts, and Amalia wasn't patient enough to wait for the next one.

She bravely attempted to search the dungeons for him. The problem was that they were enormous and confusing. The Slytherin Common Room, various Potions classes and storerooms and a dusty trophy-hall were on the more well-known level of the dungeons, but there were other corridors that twisted and went further down, more often than not ending in locked doors which refused to yield to spells. The "dungeons" seemed to run as the basement layer of the whole castle, and the castle was massive.

Through sheer pig-headedness and several nights of missing out on sleep, Amalia combed the dungeons for him, and was finally rewarded on the third day.

She turned a corner and spotted him scratching his chin absently as he stared at a blank stretch of cobwebbed wall. His bloodshot eyes turned to her as she approached triumphantly, and eagerly gushed, "Baron! May I talk to-"

And he pulled a sour expression and drifted right through the wall, disappearing with a mournful clink of the heavy, ghostly chains that hung from his manacled wrists.

"Wait!" she called, frustrated. But he was already long gone.

If that was his attitude even before she spoke to him, asking the taciturn ghost for help was not going to be easy. She needed something to offer... but what could a ghost want from someone living?

Determined to find something, she made her way to the library and read up on everything she could find on ghosts, ghouls and all non- or semi-material beings.

Returning Newt Scamanders Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them to a shelf (it was useful as a guide, but lacked detail), she came face to face with Rosier for the first time since 'the kiss'. He'd been avoiding her.

"Oh, hi. How are-"

"Save it." he snapped, shooting her a stone-faced glare.

"... Rosier, I-"

He pushed past her without a word. His entire body-language was screaming "don't you dare talk to me".

She shoved her remaining library books into a random shelf (for a moment she thought she heard the shelves give a wheezy, resigned sigh...) and trotted to catch up to him as he left the library. "Come on, don't be like that..." she wheedled, tugging at his sleeve. "I'm sorry, okay?"

"No, you're not." he kept his expression hard, and his gaze forward.

"I really am." she did genuinely feel bad. The look on Riddle's face had been priceless, so she didn't regret it, exactly... But there was some guilt. "How can I make it up to you?"

"Can you promise you won't use me against him in the future?" he snarled, knowing the answer.

Amalia hesitated a moment, then rallied. "Well... no... but... Look, next time I'll discuss it with you before I do anything, okay? And, really, I do want us to be friends."

"We have nothing in common." he laughed hollowly.

She bit her lip, but not for long. Uncertainty wasn't in her nature.

"Hey, what-!"

She pulled him abruptly into a side-passage off the main corridor they were in, and into the first empty room. It was a dusty storeroom filled with buckets and mops. The single flame torch attached to the wall inside flickered to life by itself as they entered, casting a warm halo of light in the small space.

"Just hear me out." she said, raising her hands at his furious scowl. "I need to talk to you."

He narrowed his eyes at her, and folded his arms. "Make it quick."

"We do have something in common." she started. "We both... care... about Riddle."

His eyebrows flew up and he looked even more disgruntled, if that was possible. "Is that so?"

She shook her head hurriedly. "Don't get the wrong idea, I'm not in love with in or something-" at least, I don't think so... "But I can also say I don't hate him. And I'm sorry if the kiss-"

He flinched as she mentioned it.

"-caused any bad feeling between you two."

"That's putting it mildly." he glared. "Do you know he practiced dark magic on me for three hours that night?"

She winced in sympathy. "That bastard. Look, we'll figure something out to get you back in his good books-"

"Why?" Rosier interrupted. "Why do you care?"

"I told you I want to be your friend." Amalia repeated, then rolled her eyes, "I'm a friendly person. I'd be Riddle's friend too, if he stopped trying to curse me every time I turned my back."

"You shouldn't joke about things like that." Rosier said uncertainly.

"I'm not." she replied with a shrug, "I genuinely like him."

"No, you don't..." Rosier frowned. "You can't."

"Why not? In fact, I... enjoy his company quite a lot. Just... platonically."

"You can't be serious."

Rosier was honestly confused. Every time she was around him in class she was getting mercilessly bullied. Just the previous day he'd managed to break three of her fingers by slamming a heavy history textbook onto them, after it 'miraculously' fell off a high shelf in the back of the class (of course, the rest of their classmates had no clue it was him). She hadn't looked like she was enjoying it, sweating through the pain before Binns excused her to the Hospital Wing. A simple physical attraction wouldn't survive that. Then, her feelings ran deeper...?

Amalia followed his gaze to her fingers. "Actually, I might have deserved it," she admitted, wiggling her fingers to show that they were healed perfectly, "Because last Sunday I dyed his eyebrows purple. Permanently." she looked thoughtful, "I don't know how he got them black again, but underneath I guarantee they're purple." she smirked in satisfaction.

Putting aside the image of Riddle with purple eyebrows, he shook his head and tried not to get side-tracked. "I still don't understand."

Whenever Amalia wasn't around, Riddle was scheming about how to stalk, maim, kidnap, poison or even (when his mood was particularly bad) murder her without getting caught. The other Slytherin boys were quite sick of hearing about it, though of course no one was stupid enough to suggest a change of subject. Even Lestrange seemed reluctant to tangle with her, and Riddle's obsession had become so bad he hadn't even noticed the lack of enthusiasm among his followers.

She leant against the wall and smiled absently. "I don't know exactly... But sometimes I feel like he's the only one in the castle who sees me... like, really sees me."

Rosier pondered her words. Riddle did give the impression of being able to see right through you... But wouldn't most people consider that an intimidating, or rather creepy quality...?

"Whatever he sets his mind to," she continued admiringly, "He puts his all into it. That kind of determination is kind of... inspirational."

Rosier stared at her in disbelief. Even when his obsession is you... and not in a good way?

She chuckled. "And, he's actually got quite a dry sense of humour, have you noticed that? Sometimes..." she grinned at a memory, "Ah, he cracks me up!"

"Okay... What?" This was too much. "Riddle doesn't have a sense of humour."

"Of course he does," she laughed, flapping a hand at him, "You just have to think like him to get it."

"Name one time he actually made a joke." Rosier demanded.

Amalia scratched her chin. "What was it he said when...? Oh, right! About a week ago, he was actually not being a complete dick to me for once, so I said: 'this beats a death threat', and he replied - with, like, no expression, you know how he gets - he said," she imitated Riddle's slightly deeper, smooth voice, "...'I've used up my quota for the day'. Pfft!" she laughed.

"... Are you sure he was joking?" Rosier said weakly. He could totally imagine Riddle having an internal daily quota of death threats.

"Of course he was." she said breezily.

"I think you're in denial," he said flatly. "It's going to get you killed."

She grinned at him fondly. "Careful, Rosier. You almost sounded worried, there."

He huffed and looked away uncomfortably.

"So, if you think he's so dangerous, why do you put up with him?" she asked next, inclining her head.

Amalia would be the only one to have the confidence to say anyone "put up with" Riddle. As if he was badly behaved toddler. Rosier glanced nervously around. "I don't want to talk-"

Amalia rolled her eyes. "C'mon, spill." she ordered, closing the door to the room. "We're alone here."

When Rosier still hesitated, she cast a Silencing Charm on the walls. "There. Even if he had his ear pressed to the door, he wouldn't hear a thing," she reassured him.

Rosier bit his lip. He'd never spoken about it before... not to anyone. Because who could he tell? That he was a- He was...

"You like guys." Amalia stated abruptly. "But you're a guy. Is that what you're struggling with?"

Words burst out of him in a rush, "Does - Doesn't that bother you?!"

She shrugged. "Why should it?"

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes tortured, "Well... it's... it's unnatural! It's wrong!"

"I like guys too."

"But you're supposed to!"

She snorted. "Says who? Who the heck deserves an opinion on who I find attractive? It's got nothing to do with anyone else."

"Do you really believe that?" he stared at her, desperate to know. He'd never met anyone who seemed so casual about this. He knew for a fact his family would disown him without question if they knew. Better he'd been born a Squib. No, in fact... he'd be a pariah even in the Muggle world.

She sighed. "Look, I'm not like... an advocate of the rights of homosexuals, specifically."

He flinched as she said the h-word.

"I just think you have the right to choose, and if it makes you happy... screw what everyone else thinks."

"If people knew they'd hate me." he said bitterly. "You can't tell me that's not true."

She got a little more serious, thinking about it. He was right; if Riddle or someone like Lestrange ever found out, there was a real possibility they'd do something drastic. Like murder. It wasn't worth joking about.

She reached out and gripped his shoulder securely. "I know, and I don't hate you, Rosier." she said seriously. "I don't think it's wrong, or unnatural... Granted, Riddle is not the safest option for you to like, but... You can't help it. It's who you are. You're drawn to him..." she swallowed. "Just like I am, I guess."

He was staring into her face, looking for any trace of insincerity or deceit, but found none. He nodded slowly, feeling an almost-physical weight lifting off his shoulders. I can't help it. It's who I am. Despite everything she'd already done... she was the only one who knew, and she hadn't turned away.

Amalia could see the change in his eyes, and let go of his arm, giving him his space. "I won't use it against you like that again," she promised. "If we're friends, I'll protect you."

He thought about it for a long moment, and then gave a terse nod. Perhaps, in time... he might even begin to trust her.

"So?" she prompted, "What's so special about that asshole?" Only Amalia could make it sound like a term of endearment.

"I think..." he admitted slowly, "I admire him because he's so different. He doesn't ask for respect... he just takes it. He knows who he is. He's got all these big plans..." he swallowed. "It makes me feel like... like..."

"...You're a part of something bigger." finished Amalia softly. "I know."

"Really?"

"Mm. He has that quality about him. Like... He's going to be a force for change in this world, one way or another."

"Doesn't that frighten you?" It frightened him, sometimes.

"No." she said instantly. "Because I don't intend to be a bystander."

She caught his uncomfortable frown. "Don't worry so much," she said bracingly, correctly interpreting his thoughts, "I have no intention of letting him kill me, now or in the future. Whether we end up as enemies or..." she coughed, "Something else... I'm sticking around to find out."

Rosier hoped she wasn't just talking big.

Her eyes suddenly lit up with inspiration. "Which reminds me, we have to think of a way to get you back into his good books..."

"Wait!" Amalia skidded around a corner and then froze in position, one hand outstretched dramatically, her voice pleading. "Please!"

The Bloody Baron actually paused, halfway through a wall, and shot her a malevolent glare. "You're persistent, I'll give you that." he grunted. His voice was deep and somewhat harsh.

She exhaled heavily, and approached with a little more dignity. "You want to hear what I have to say," she started confidently.

"I highly doubt that." he replied dryly.

"I need your help," she said, "But I'm willing to offer you something in exchange."

"Oh?" he looked caught between irritation and boredom, "And that is...?"

"I did some research, and I know a spell," she said eagerly, "That can remove your chains."

He sneered. "And why would I want that?"

"I can- wait, what?" she deflated, confused. The chains looked really heavy. And with all the silvery blood on his chest, she had wondered if it was uncomfortable. Ghosts could feel and interact with other things on the spiritual plane.

"Listen, girl," he said contemptuously, "I put these chains on myself. I certainly don't need help from the likes of you." And with a scornful snort, he drifted through the wall.

Amalia wracked her brain frantically for another solution, and then had a terrific 'ahah' moment, smacking herself on the forehead, it was so obvious.

She raced down the corridor and circled around until she reached the empty Transfiguration classroom he'd floated into.

"I have another... offer," she panted, placing herself in front of him stubbornly.

She winced and closed her eyes tightly as he leered and just floated through her, sending an unpleasant shiver down her spine like she'd been doused in ice water.

"Not. Interested." he growled.

"I can give you anything," she announced. "Any item you desire. I found a spell that can transform things into a non-corporeal form. Maybe... a book? If you feel bored." she spoke quickly before he disappeared again. But he'd actually paused and seemed to be listening. "What about food? You'd be able to interact with it." The Fat Friar always had a ghostly glass of self-refilling wine in his chubby hand (which perhaps explained the perpetual jolliness). "... Hell, I can give you more chains, if that's your... thing," she said. Then, worried he might take offense at her flippant tone, she added, "Uh... I'd be honoured, of course."

He turned to her with a pensive expression.

She waited expectantly.

He just stared at her, his dark, blood-shot eyes seeming to look right through her.

He stared.

And stared.

And stared.

"Um..."

It had been three minutes now.

"So... Can I... be of assistance... In any way?" she asked again cautiously. She wasn't sure if he was even "with her" anymore. The dead-eyed staring had gone beyond awkward, past creepy and was currently nearing downright disturbing. "Um... Baron?"

Suddenly he blinked, as if coming out of a trance, and nodded, just once.

She sighed in relief, which quickly turned to dismay as he turned and drifted out of the classroom.

"Wait!" she called out, dithering, "...Wasn't that a yes?" she dashed into the corridor and spotted him floating away at quite a pace. "Am I supposed to follow you?"

He gave no reply, but going by the fact that he was down stairs and along corridors, not through walls, she guessed it meant yes.

The Baron led her on a winding route through the castle, taking so many twists and turns Amalia soon felt lost. So it was with great surprise that they eventually emerged out of a small side-door... and into the Clock Tower Courtyard.

He drifted to a halt and rotated slowly to look at her.

"Um... so... what is it you want?" Amalia asked tentatively. She was a little apprehensive after all his weird behaviour.

He pointed into the courtyard, and she peered around his ghostly form, to see...

"... Birds?" she looked at him incredulously. The courtyard was full of cawing, noisy black birds.

He nodded.

"But the spells I found were all for things..." she exclaimed, frustrated. "You really want one of these, uh... crows?" she eyed the black birds in distaste. They were probably full of parasites.

He glared. "They're ravens." he growled. "And if you can't do it, there's nothing more to discuss-" he started drifting away.

"I didn't say that!" Amalia hurriedly assured him. "I just might need some time, that's all." she wracked her brain, but came up empty. She'd never heard of spectral animals before... though surely there must be a precedent? It would take more research to come up with a solution.

His bloodshot eyes narrowed at her, and Amalia could tell he didn't believe she could do it. "Don't bother me again." he warned harshly, and floated through a wall with a nasty snort of contempt.

Amalia gestured rudely at the wall.

The cawing of the ravens suddenly sounded like spiteful laughter, mocking her as her quest seemed to have hit yet another major obstacle.

Author's note:

So it's the 1940's, and homosexuality is obviously not accepted. Like, at all. Anywhere. So poor Rosier feels very alone... I wonder what they have planned to get him back on Riddle's good side? Please leave reviews!