The Hogwarts' Riddle
Chapter 5 -JERA-
Ginny Weasley froze with fear. Across the common room in one of the high-backed armchairs by the empty fireplace leaned Tom Riddle - a piece of parchment in his hand.
The strange hissing noise definitely came from there.
Despite the late hour he was still dressed in his black school robes and for all it looked like he was reading some text from that piece of parchment in his hands. But what were those hissing noises supposed to be? What was going on?
Ginny started to feel very uncomfortable all of a sudden. She couldn't exactly tell why, but for some reason she supposed it to be better if he wouldn't see her. Confusion was written all over her face when she stepped carefully back into the shadows. The little hairs at the back of her neck stood on end and an unexpected fear captured her. Her throat got all dry. Flashbacks of her first year crossed her mind. Furious hissing noises, fragments of a language unknown.
Rip! ~ Tear apart! ~ Kill!
Her head was spinning at the terrifying memories of – Fear, betrayal, sorrow and regret – that broke free from somewhere deep inside her chest. Visions of herself, her eyes dull and unfocused - A strangled rooster dangling from Hagrid's garden fence. Another one, with its throat slit, beneath. Blood running from its corpse, building dirty little pools in the muddy ground. Blood and feathers on her hands and night-gown.
Another scene – another night – A dark corridor. Her own handwriting spreading in scarlet-red, blood-dripping letters across the wall.
The Chamber of Secrets has been opened - Enemies of the heir – beware.
The Chamber – Tom - The hissing noise of a serpent –
- Tom –
With a panicked gasp she stumbled backwards and tripped over her own feet in her haste to get away. To her very shock the hissing stopped immediately. He had heard her. She had to get away. He mustn't find her.
Trembling with fear she crawled back deeper into the shadows, determined to avoid any noise. Maybe, if she remained completely quiet, maybe he wouldn't follow her.
Although she hadn't recognised the hissing noise from afar she was now sure of what it had been. Parseltongue. The sounds hadn't been furious like she remembered them from the past, though. They had appeared more reluctant and unpractised to her - but she still couldn't understand.
Tom Riddle could have screamed with frustration. All evening he had waited for the opportunity to read more about Salazar's legacy and when the last of his fellow students had finally left the common room, he had unrolled the ancient parchment once again, eager to find out more about its meaning. But he hadn't read any further than to the line he had stopped at that afternoon, before a noise from the stairs had made him look up in alarm.
He couldn't see anyone, but was almost sure someone was hiding in the shadows over there. He waited a few more seconds.
What if they had heard him? He had to know. And he had to look out. It was too risky, he mustn't read this parchment in the common room ever again.
When he got up from his armchair, he heard someone hurrying up the stairs that led to the girls dorms.
Could it have been – her, he wondered. But no, he was probably wrong, it could have been anyone. He was just so very preoccupied with this strange girl that he thought of her in the first place. But if it hadn't been her – who else had been there and how much had they heard?
Her knees shaking, Ginny slid down to the floor of her dormitory and leaned her back against the old wood of the door. With unseeing eyes she stared into the darkness around her. The sound of her own, hurried breathing seemed loud to her. If only the other girls wouldn't wake up right now. Her heart skipped a beat, when she heard the steps in the corridor outside slow down in front of her door.
It was him.
He had found her.
He knew it had been her.
Voldemort – No –Tom - He was right outside this door. What would he do to her now?
Just when she thought she couldn't bear the tension any longer, he backed away from the door and walked away. She could hear his steps ebbing away in the distance.
Utterly relieved she crawled back into her bed and drew the curtains shut. Ever so slowly the panic left her and after some time her breathing and heartbeat slowed down again.
She didn't find much sleep that night, though. Pictures of her renewed, dark memories haunted her once again. She relived all the terrors of her first year and felt sick at the memories of what she'd done.
The merry atmosphere at the breakfast table made the whole frightening scene of the night before appear even more unreal.
The appetising smell of ham and eggs, coffee and orange juice filled the air. Bright sunlight floated into the Great Hall through the huge windows' coloured glass. The day promised to become warm again.
Tom looked so normal and harmless in bright daylight that she could hardly believe the fear she had felt only a few hours before.
Nonetheless she was hardly able to look at him. Their eyes had locked twice since she had started breakfast and each time she had been the first to look away. Even when not looking at him, she could sense his eyes on her, though. It made her feel awkward and nervous and – well - very uncomfortable in some way. She still wondered if he knew it had been her who had spied on him at the common room the night before.
Some giggling noises and a nudge in the ribs from Rabia caused her to turn her attention towards the other girl and she was glad for the distraction.
The oldest Slytherins had arrived and immediately she noticed a huge, silvery-blond boy in their midst. That boy could have been Draco. Even his eyes were of the same, silvery-grey colour.
Rabia, who had followed her gaze, leaned forward in her seat and whispered. "That's Lucretius. Now you'll have the rare opportunity to see Cathrina getting all nervous. Just look how she's blushing."
She was right. As soon as she caught sight of her cousin, the ghost of colour appeared on Cathrina's pale Malfoy-cheeks. It even deepened when Lucretius took a seat at the opposite side of the table and smiled at her. "Hi Cat," he greeted her with a warm smile. "did you get Mum's letter?"
"Oh-yes, I have, Lu-" she muttered, returning his smile.
Rabia rolled her eyes. "It's only Cat and Lu for them," she warned Ginny with a grin. "It has to be some stupid relic from their childhood and no one else ever calls them those names."
Ginny almost felt sympathy for the fair-blond girl. It couldn't be easy to be watched by the nosy eyes of her house members when talking to the boy she was supposed to marry, and who was her cousin and crush on top of it all. Poor Cathrina.
Carefully she let her eyes glide across the table and almost flinched, when they suddenly met with a pair of bottle-green ones that watched her closely.
Immediately she looked away. "What do we have first?" she asked hurriedly.
"Oh, on Wednesday mornings we always have double DSS," Rabia frowned with a grave sigh, "but afterwards it's Care Of Magical Creatures. You'll like that one. That is, if you have it as elective subject -"
"Yes, yes, I have," Ginny assured her. "But what the heck is DSS? I don't think that's a subject of mine."
To her very confusion Rabia snorted with laughter at that remark. "Oh don't worry, I'm always doubting this myself."
"It's Domestic Science Spells," Lilith filled her in with a shy smile. "Everybody hates it, but unfortunately it's on the basic schedule and therefore unavoidable."
"They are making us learn Household Spells?" Ginny asked in disbelief. "Even the boys?"
"No," Rabia frowned, "the boys are luckier than all get out. They are practising Advanced Flying lessons in the meantime."
"Don't we get any flying education then?" Ginny asked, taken aback.
"Oh yes, we do, but it's separated from the boys and it's boring beyond imagination."
"Oh come on, Rabia," Lilith injected, "it's not that bad. At least they aren't making us ride side-saddle anymore, like it was taught in my grandma's days."
"With the exception of Cathrina, you mean?" Rabia scoffed, but Lilith only shook her head. "She doesn't like this one bit, either. It's hardly her fault that her parents depend on it. They are quite old fashioned and hold up traditions."
Ginny coughed, 'Why doesn't this surprise me in the slightest?" she wondered.
After DSS which was just as bad as it sounded, they headed out for the sunny grounds. Only she and Rabia had Care of Magical Creatures. Cathrina, Lilith and Olive had chosen Arithmancy instead. Although it wasn't any later than 9.30 a.m. it was quite hot already and Ginny followed Rabia's example and rolled her sleeves up to the elbows.
In the distance she could spot some black-robed figures on broomsticks. She shielded her eyes against the sun to have a better look.
"Aren't the boys finished with their flying lesson, yet?"
"Yes, they are," Rabia told her and followed her gaze. "That's not our boys. That's the fifth years."
A jolt of electricity hit Ginny at that news. The fifth years – Tom's class. She craned her neck even more, but couldn't recognize him from afar. She would have to get his schedule to be prepared for situations like this. Yes that she would do.
The sound of running feet on the dry ground caused Ginny to nervously glance over her shoulder, but it was just David and Argus, who caught up with their classmates.
"Hey, Rabia, Ginny wait," David panted. "Did the lassies learn some thrilling new Household Spells?" he scoffed as soon as he reached them.
Rabia flashed a sarcastic smile at him. "If you don't keep your big mouth shut, the lassies will hex you."
"Aren't you saving that for your dear friends, the Weasley-twins?" David mocked. He suddenly batted his eyelashes and called out in a high-pitched voice. "Oh Gregory, if you don't stop this you'll be sorry, I –"
A hard nudge in the ribs silenced him. "Watch it Dummy," Rabia warned, her eyes gleaming. "You're treading on thin ice, you know?"
A light-hearted grin crossed David's features. "Well speaking of ice – How about a nice relaxing afternoon at the lake with swimming and a large bowl of ice-cream?"
Rabia's head snapped up in surprise at that. "Don't you have Quidditch practice?"
"No siree, it's cancelled."
"Well then –"
In front of the little wooden house that would be Hagrid's hut in Ginny's time, a young woman with forget-me-not blue cotton robes awaited them. Her honey-coloured hair was tied into a messy bun and her light-hazel eyes looked melancholy, but friendly.
"That's Mrs. Norris," Rabia exclaimed in a hushed voice. "She's one of the kindest teaches we have. Everyone likes her."
"Mrs. Norris?!" Ginny gasped.
"Yes," her friend continued, "it's very sad. She's a widow, you know? Her husband was an Auror and was killed in a fight against Grindelwald. That's why she's looking so depressed sometimes."
At a loss for words, Ginny stared at the beautiful young witch. Mrs. Norris couldn't be any older than in her mid-twenties. She greeted the class with a kind, but sad little smile and led them around the hut and past the neatly kept weed and pumpkin-patch, where a proud-looking Hagrid held up a wriggling Niffler.
"Here's the run'way, Mrs. Norris," he grinned. "He tried teh escape inta th' groun', but-I got 'im."
It was hard to tell who was more muddy, the Niffler, or the bright grinning boy, who lay flat on his stomach amidst the pumpkin-patch. Ginny could hardly suppress a grin.
"That's Rubeus Hagrid," Rabia told her. "He's a third year Gryffindor, but quite nice so far. He's fond of all kinds of animals, especially large and dangerous ones, and he's helping Mrs. Norris to care for the magical creatures."
"I've already met him," Ginny told her with slight smile. "He showed me the way to Professor Dippet's office yesterday."
"Oh yes, he's always in trouble," Rabia admitted. "But, I like him nonetheless."
After a brief conversation with Hagrid in which she advised him to clean up himself before heading for his next lesson, Mrs. Norris led them along a narrow, grass covered path into a small paddock by the edge of the forest. Wild flowers were sprinkled amongst the long yellowish summer grass in here and the nearby treetops were filled with merry chirping. On one of the paddock's wooden pales sat a beautiful, swan-sized, scarlet-red bird. Ginny recognised it at once.
Fawkes.
His long golden tail feathers glittered in the bright morning sunlight. He only turned his head at the students' gasps of amazement.
Mrs. Norris seemed to enjoy their excitement. "Today's lesson is centred around the Phoenix," she smiled. "Professor Dumbledore has been so kind to lend his pet-bird to us. His name is Fawkes and he's around four hundred years old. Probably even older. It's hard to tell the exact age of a Phoenix. Can anybody tell me, what is the reason for this? Yes, Miss McGonagall?"
"The Phoenix can live to an immense age, as it can regenerate, bursting into flames when its body begins to fail and rising again from the ashes as a chick," Minerva answered excitedly. Her cheeks had turned all pink at the sight of the Phoenix and the mention of Professor Dumbledore's name. Ginny found this extremely interesting. Like Hermione, Minerva sounded as if she had swallowed the textbook. When she drew in a deep breath to continue, a slight smile crossed Mrs. Norris' face.
"Yes, that's correct, Miss McGonagall. Very good, indeed. Five points to Gryffindor for your extensive knowledge."
She turned her head to look at the class again. "As Miss McGonagall has already said, the Phoenix does regenerate itself from its ashes from time to time. That's why you should always have a box amongst your luggage, when travelling with a Phoenix. It might come in handy on a burning day. Now does anybody know, where Phoenixes usually live?"
Once again Minerva's hand shot into the air, but this time Mrs. Norris ignored her and picked out Rabia instead.
"It nests on mountain tops in countries like China, Egypt and India," she answered.
"Well done, Miss Aydin."
"What else do we know of the Phoenix? Yes, Mr. Weasley?"
"It's wearing Gryffindor colours," Frederic grinned and Mrs. Norris rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Weasley, but I highly doubt that. Try again please."
"Sorry, Ma'am, he muttered with a grin and continued on a more serious level. "It's a gentle creature that never bites or kills and lives on herbs."
"That's right, Mr. Weasley. No house points will be taken from Gryffindor because of your former impudence. Is there anything more to be added?"
This time only Ginny raised her hand.
"You're the new student, Miss Otis, I presume?" Mrs. Norris asked and Ginny nodded, feeling quite nervous now that everybody was looking at her.
"Well then, go ahead," the teacher told her.
"A Phoenix is able to carry heavy weights," she began, "its song is magical and able to increase the courage of the pure-hearted, while it weakens determination and strikes fear inside those whose hearts are impure. Besides this, it appreciates every true, devoted thought and action towards its owner, and honours it by accepting the person in which it senses such. The tears of a Phoenix have healing powers and - erm, its tail-feathers can be used as a core for a magic wand."
"That's brilliant, Miss Otis. Five points to Slytherin. Do you have any experience with a Phoenix?"
Blushing with embarrassment, Ginny shook her head. She hadn't meant to ramble like this. "Well then. I want each of you to step forward and try to communicate with Fawkes now. One by one. Don't make any rushed movements. A Phoenix isn't exactly shy, but it is very proud and can be easily annoyed, just like a Hippogriff. Not many wizards have been ever able to domesticate one. That's why it gets a four X rating at the M. O. M. Classification according to 'Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them'. What does the Abbreviation M.O.M. stand for, by the way? Mr. Filch, do you have any idea?"
Poor Argus flushed bright red at being spoken to. "Mi-ministry Of Magic Classification, Ma'am," he stammered nervously.
"Very good, Mr. Filch. Five more points to Slytherin, for this," Mrs. Norris smiled and faced the rest of the class again to continue her lecture.
"If I say communicate, I'm speaking of telepathy. Don't ever call for a Phoenix the way you would talk to a dog. It would offend him. Just bow your arm and place your fingertips at your shoulder. Then talk to the bird in your thoughts. If you're lucky, you might get an answer, but if he refuses to come to you it doesn't mean that he mistrusts you. I don't really expect Fawkes to fly to any of you. I just want to give you an idea of how to treat a Phoenix. It's really rare that he follows such an invitation at all and as such you should always think of it – as an invitation, but never as an order."
"Mr. Dumbledore, I think we best start with you as the bird is used to you in some way."
Everyone held their breath when David stepped forward. He bowed his left arm in the way Mrs. Norris had advised them and tipped lightly against his shoulder. His eyes locked with those of Fawkes.
At first nothing happened. Then the Phoenix shifted his position on the fence and spread his magnificent wings.
A triumphant smile crossed David's face, but the very next second the bird refolded his wings again and turned his back to the now crushed looking boy.
While David had at least caused some kind of reaction in Fawkes, Frederick, Gregory and Argus tried so without any success.
Then it was Minerva's turn.
Nervously she stepped in front of the scarlet feathered bird. Fawkes tilted his beautiful head aside and eyed her carefully for a few seconds. Then all of a sudden he spread his wings and rose into the air. Slowly and gracefully he took the offered seat. Minerva's knees almost buckled under the heavy weight, but determinedly she stood her ground. With trembling fingertips she caressed the bird's fluffy scarlet-red feathers and Fawkes didn't make any move to leave his place on her shoulder.
Mrs. Norris was equally stunned as the class. "That's a real surprise, Miss McGonagall. I hadn't expected this. Take him back to the fence and thank him. You may speak aloud to him for this now."
Her steps unsteady under the Phoenix's weight, Minerva crossed the short distance and Fawkes hopped off of her shoulder and back upon the fence again.
"Well, to me it's no surprise at all. He probably knows you from my uncle's office. You're certainly up there often enough, aren't you Minnie?" David mocked and Minerva's cheeks flushed bright red at the teasing.
Neither Rabia, nor Sean Black had any luck with the Phoenix, he simply didn't react at all. But when the row was on Ginny, Fawkes raised his beautiful head and looked at her as if he was unsure of what to think of her. Ginny felt her heartbeat quicken. Did the bird recognize her? How was this possible? She would meet him in – What? – Around fifty years in the future. He certainly couldn't know of that, could he?
But maybe time had a different meaning to a creature like a Phoenix.
Suddenly Fawkes tilted back his head and a row of the most beautiful sounds imaginable escaped from his throat, before he disappeared in a puff of feathers.
For a few seconds no one spoke a word. The soft bumbling of bees between the grass and the birds' chirping in the treetops were the only noises in the quiet paddock at the edge of the forest. Nine pairs of eyes stared into the spot where Fawkes had just disappeared into thin air. Just a few fluffy red feathers that slowly swooped to the ground reminded of his presence. Finally Mrs. Norris found her voice again, but it was shaky and unsteady, when she spoke. "That was Phoenix' song," she explained with a stunned expression on her face. "I've never heard it before, myself. This has been a truly unexpected reaction you caused in the bird, Miss Otis."
At this some whispering started among the students and Ginny could sense their curious gazes.
"Well, as for the disappearance," Mrs. Norris continued, "this is one more ability the Phoenix has. Like the Dircawl, it can vanish at will and reappear elsewhere. I'm sure Fawkes has returned to Professor Dumbledore's office now."
"Maybe Minerva could check on that," David mumbled with a trace of sarcasm. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind."
Minerva, who had felt a brief stab of jealousy at Fawkes' stunning reaction to the new Slytherin girl, blushed at the comment. With an insecure little smile she looked at Ginny. She couldn't be that bad, if even Dumbledore's familiar trusted her enough to sing for her, could she?
In the afternoon Ginny didn't join the others at swimming and sunbathing at the lake, but headed for the library instead. Rabia, who had half-heartedly suggested to accompany her, had been utterly relived when Ginny had refused her offer.
On a bright sunny day like this the vast room was pleasantly cool and very quiet. The atmosphere was similar to that of an old, dimly-lit church and the smell of dust and old books filled the air.
Just a lonely bag lay opened on one of the tables. A couple of books, parchment and quills were spread around it. Ginny wondered briefly, who else might be stupid enough to spend a hot summer's afternoon in here and was just about to turn the other direction and look for the books she needed, when her gaze fell onto a small, familiar black book, she hadn't expected to see ever again.
A/N: Most of the background information about the Phoenix is taken from 'Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them' a comic relief book referring to the Harry Potter series, or from the second book 'The Chamber Of Secrets'. Just the ideas about the box for a burning day and the way to treat a Phoenix are mine.
JERA, this chapter's title, is a rune, which literally means 'year'. It expresses the interaction of two opposites like summer and winter and stands for long term influences on each other, which can not be rushed or forced. It tells of harmony between inner changes and the changes of the world around and is supposed to represent the slowly developing relationships and the - yet unspoken - emotions between several characters in this chapter that may have a beneficial outcome in the end. If overlapping, the little signs I choose to separate the sections, build the shape of JERA.
Thanks for reviews and e-mail. And thanks to SilentG for beta-reading.
*Firesblood* Thanks for the first review to the fourth chapter. How are your own Phoenixes coming along, by the way?
*Lila Mae* Well, I thought of this, too, but decided against it. I guess Tom only used Ginny to do physical work for him, which he couldn't do himself as the body-less memory that he was. But he did talk to Harry when they met down in the Chamber. So the voice controlling the Basilisk has been him, I suppose. Nonetheless Ginny might remember some fragments, but since Parseltongue is an inherited ability and not a trained one she won't really understand the language. Even if some sounds might appear familiar to her.
*Lunarmouse* Thanks for the encouragement.
*XevenOf9* I don't think Ginny's tale plausible either and I highly doubt Dippet does, but what shall he do? He can hardly send the poor, lost girl off, especially in times as dark as those.
As for your comment about Grindelwald.
His name sounds quite German to me, too. The second part of his name 'wald' means 'wood' as in 'forest' - not the material. I don't think, it's a coincidence that J.K. R. made him live in these time and said him to be defeated in 1945 of all years, either. She probably meant something by this. Maybe we'll find out more about it in later books. I on the contrary, don't intent to give Grindelwald much importance in this story. I just mentioned him and the facts from the chocolate-frog's card to give the reader a few details and an idea of the time Ginny found herself in right then, just like I did about her other stops during the journey as well. He isn't important for my plot and although he might be mentioned every now and then, this fic will be a romance story between Tom and Ginny, with all the creepy little moments and lurking darkness, a fic like this is bound to have, but nothing more. I hope you will enjoy reading this, nonetheless.
*Amanda Mancini* Ewm yes, there will be killing … But Ginny won't be the murderess.
*Ellerfru* Thanks. I thought his name to be quite funny, too.
*tiger* Don't worry, I'll definitely continue and finish this fic. I've already written the Epilogue.
Serpentina