Written for THC Round 9:

Hufflepuff

Astronomy

Drabble

[Object] Hufflepuff's cup

WC: 969 (google docs)

Riddle-Ron

The Chamber of Secrets was different than Hermione had expected. It was bigger, statelier, and much more elegant, a grandiosity that contradicted its secrecy — wouldn't Tom Riddle want to boast about a place like this?

Hermione assumed that Ron and Harry had been exaggerating when they described the Chamber back in their second year, but it turned out they were not. The towering pillars, intricate serpent carvings, and massive statue of Salazar Slytherin matched the splendor of a temple.

Yet, there was something sinister about its grandeur, and Hermione couldn't quite name it. A rotten corpse would look out-of-place in any other temple, but in the Chamber of Secrets, the large, coiled, Basilisk skeleton fit right in. She was kneeling next to the monster now, clutching one of its fangs in her trembling hand, while Helga Hufflepuff's cup idled before her, its badger emblem slashed and scarred by dark magic.

"Well… smash it," came Ron's voice, breaking the eerie silence.

"I...I don't know if I can," she stuttered. She gripped the fang so tightly that her knuckles turned white, but her arm was frozen at her side as if it weighed a thousand tons.

"Yes, you can," Ron assured her, his tone calm and encouraging.

His confidence was enough to summon her strength, but as soon as she recoiled her arm to strike, the cup twitched and teetered off to its side, unleashing a mighty cloud of black smoke. The resulting wind gust was so strong that it knocked Hermione off balance.

Wide-eyed, she watched as the smoke swirled and spiraled upward, morphing into the tall and lanky shape of Ron Weasley. The hologram was so familiar, yet unrecognizable — it looked like a blend between the real Ron and Tom Riddle himself, equal parts handsome and terrifying.

And then it spoke to her.

"How silly of you to trust me after I left you," it hissed. "Blinded by a love that will never be mutual. How stupid to fall for me when I could never love you back?"

"Don't listen to it, Hermione. It's just fighting back," said the real Ron, but Hermione barely registered his words.

"You've seen the way I look at other girls, and you know I'll never see you as anything more than a sister. You are nothing to me. Nothing."

"It's not true. Please don't believe it," repeated Ron, but his voice was muffled, as if he was whispering through radio static.

Riddle-Ron enlarged, growing more threatening, yet compelling. Hermione stumbled back as its face contorted into a sneer.

"How daft are you to think that you'd find true success? How could you hope to aid the magical world? Why on earth would you think that you could make up for your dirty blood by reading books? Some things can't be taught. You'll never belong in this world. Never."

"Focus on our goal. Our future. Finding your parents," Ron reminded her firmly.

Although Hermione could hear the real Ron speaking, and her logical mind knew it was him she needed to listen to, she simply… couldn't. Something about Riddle-Ron was so much more compelling. It was as if it voiced her innermost thoughts, the ones she'd never discussed with anyone else. Her deepest insecurities.

"What a rotten daughter you were, lying to your parents all these years, convincing yourself it was for their safety. Then you betrayed them — you used magic against them when you promised you never would."

"They'll forgive you! You know they will!" shouted Ron, but his words drifted by, unable to grab her attention.

"Where are your parents now? Are they safe? Happy? Are they even alive? Did your plan even work?"

"KILL IT!"

Her arm was frozen again. She wanted the cloud of smoke to stop talking, and maybe it would if she just stabbed the cup, but what would that mean? Would she be running away from her own thoughts? Her own fears?

Every time it spoke, it tempted Hermione to put the fang down and listen. She loosened her grip, and its hisses grew louder, snarling at her.

"You don't even know where your parents are, do you? What happens when you find them, and they don't want you back? What will you do when they can never trust you again? When will you admit they're afraid of you?"

"SMASH IT!" Ron's shout briefly grabbed Hermione's attention before Riddle-Ron lured her back in.

"They don't want you. I don't want you. The magical world doesn't want you."

"HERMIONE!" shouted the real Ron. "Listen to me! It's lying. I know that because… I love you."

I love you. Although spoken softly, those three words managed to drown out the cup's hissing. She didn't know if she believed them, but she wanted to. Was that enough?

"You don't belong here—"

It had to be enough because the hologram couldn't finish before Hermione's arm moved on its own. She gripped the fang tightly, recoiled, and stabbed the cup with all of her strength.

The smoke cloud twisted and swarmed, its voice turning from a cold, high hiss to an ear-piercing scream. It swirled with so much force that a tornado might have trampled through the Chamber of Secrets, forcing Ron and Hermione onto their backs, and rupturing the pipes that lined the walls. Water burst forth, drenching both of them, soaking their clothes, and muffling Riddle-Ron's screams, which grew quieter, softer, until silence filled the room once again.

Panting, Hermione dropped the fang and turned to Ron, who embraced her.

"You did it," he murmured into her hair.

"Yeah," she said breathlessly. "I did." Silence hung in the air as she softened into him. "Did you mean that?" she asked, certain that no elaboration was necessary.

"Yeah," he said, tightening his arms around her. "I did."