Author's Notes: To my reviewers: wow, you are all the greatest! Thanks to Wren, LovinLovegood1, The Enchanted Teakettle, All-American Vampire, blueforest, LavenderBrown77, larken27, Kiki, and Tiamat Warcraft.

This is a bit of a transition chapter, in the summer, but there's a little bit of Tom, too.

Oh, I read something funny today – apparently Tom Riddle's diary sold for $4,000 on Ebay, the prop from the film, I'm assuming :-) Crazy! Hey, maybe if it was his real diary…if only…I'm twisted, I know.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the Harry Potter universe; JK Rowling does.

Chapter 13

Balance

Despite a frantic search of the Astronomy Tower the night before, and the stairs leading up to it, and all the corridors from there to Ravenclaw, Honora had not found her locket. She had even checked the grounds below the tower, on the off-chance that a freak breeze had pushed it off. She asked around all her friends, none of whom had seen anything large, gold, and seashell-shaped. Honora was beside herself with despair, and deeply annoyed at how careless she had been.

Shaking her head, she knew there was nothing to do about it. Perhaps some couple had gone up to the tower, and had found the locket, and either kept it or turned it in; in either case, she would not find out until the start of the next school year.

It was not lost on her that the locket contained very sensitive information: namely, Honora's true birth-date. It would not do for anyone to realise she had been born in 2095! However, she was not sure that anyone could even open the locket if they were not blood relations. Often these things had protective enchantments; Honora prayed that was the case with her locket.

With a sad sigh, Honora tried to put it out of her head. She would not let a lost trinket destroy her summer, no matter how important an heirloom it was.

It was also unknown to her what Dumbledore had arranged for Tom Riddle's summer. However, Honora figured the whole thing could not be entirely up to her and chose to concentrate on her own holiday plans instead. On the Hogwarts Express back to London, Damaris and Honora made a list of all the things they were going to do with their months off. Kay reminded them to do the summer reading.

'I'm not as irresponsible as I look,' said Damaris. 'Besides, Miss Head Girl is here to keep me on track.'

Honora crossed her fingers superstitiously. 'Don't say it yet! Not until I get the letter. What if Dippet chooses some Hufflepuff?'

'He couldn't do that,' Kay said. 'He would have to be a total dunderhead.'

Honora raised her eyebrows and gave Kay a pointed look.

'Oh,' Kay said, 'I see what you mean.'

At Kings Cross, Mr. and Mrs. Turpin were there to pick up Damaris, Honora, and Damaris's two younger brothers, Joseph (a fourth-year Ravenclaw) and Eldridge (a second-year Gryffindor). Mr. Turpin was tall, distinguished, and would have been blonde were he not completely bald. Mrs. Turpin was tall, thin, and had a ready smile.

They waved goodbye to Kay and her Muggle parents, and Honora and Damaris linked arms as they got into the wizarding automobile that expanded to fit the whole family. The Turpins lived in Suffolk, about two hours' drive from London, in a large old stone house set in the countryside. They were not fabulously wealthy, but were fairly well-off and Mrs. Turpin had two house-elves to help with cleaning and cooking. The gardens were full of flowers and butterflies and Honora loved to just sit out on the patio, reading as she worked on her tan. Summertime in England was a fine thing, and Honora and Damaris spent their days reading Witch Weekly magazine, riding brooms around the garden, and perusing Mr. Turpin's extensive spell library.

Honora was not about to let Tom Riddle get the better of her in seventh year, so she starting studying Occlumency in earnest. It was lucky that Mr. Turpin owned a rare copy of 'Occlumency: the Other Option for Wizarding Defence,' by Augustus Brainshank. She learned how to not only clear her mind of all thoughts and emotions, but how to let certain memories come forward to trick a Legilimens into believing she was allowing them into her head. If Tom tried to use Legilimency on her again, he would not even know she was blocking him.

She had not played her cards right with Tom Riddle, Honora realised. Yes, she had gotten his attention, but he had been wary of her, at best; in fact, he seemed to nurse a little hatred for her. That had to change. There was only one way to get close enough to him to discover his weakness: she had to earn his trust. Honora had to get him to open up to her a little bit, so she could figure out the best way to get rid of him once and for all. That meant being (or pretending to be) his friend. With her new Occlumency skills, Honora hoped she could pull it off.

In late July, Kay came to stay for the remainder of the holiday. She brought exciting news: the Muggle war had turned in favour of England with a massive Allied invasion of France. Muggles across the nation were pitched in excitement and optimism, she reported. Even the Daily Prophet was talking about the imminent retreat of the Dark wizard Grindelwald's forces in Europe. The summer of 1944 was a bright time, indeed.

Damaris turned seventeen on July 27th, and the Turpins held their annual summer garden party. Several hundred people were invited, and the party was held on the Turpins' extensive lawn under a marquee. Even some traditionally Slytherin families showed up, including the Blacks, the Gaiuses, and the Hornbys. It seemed that it was alright to socialise with Slytherins as long as you were not at Hogwarts.

In mid-August, Hogwarts owls appeared at the kitchen window with their exam results. Honora's owl came with a fat letter attached. Kay and Damaris looked at each other with grins as Honora ripped it open, scanning rapidly.

'Dear Miss Crowley, You have been selected as Head Girl for the 1944-45 school year…yippee!' Honora tossed the parchment into the air with a yelp. 'HaHA! This is brilliant! I can't believe I actually got it. That moron Dippet does have an ounce of sense, after all! It's amazing!'

To celebrate, Mrs. Turpin had the house-elf make margaritas from a recipe in the Witch Weekly special edition, 'New World witches: bring a taste of the tropics to your home.'

In all, the summer holiday was a relaxing and productive time. She did not have to think about Lord Voldemort or saving the future or anything so utterly serious. That little voice that said, 'You had better take care of the Tom Riddle problem now, Honora, before he gets more powerful,' had been tuned out. She allowed her curious mind to wander freely through its light-hearted existence. By the time late August rolled around, Honora was mellow, happy, and energetic for the new school year.

A week before school was due to begin, Damaris wheedled permission out of her parents for the girls to stay at the Leaky Cauldron and do their shopping on Diagon Alley. In a thrilling excursion into Muggle London with Kay, Honora acquired a cunning new satin kimono and negligee in black with gold thread. Since the Galleons to pounds sterling exchange rate was so good, she also bought several new dresses, pairs of high heels, gloves, and stockings. The rest of her school robes she bought at Madame Malkin's.

One fine blue-skied day, when the thick warm August air enveloped around buildings and a slight breeze lifted down the street, Damaris spotted Lawrence Carter going into Quality Quidditch Supplies. Snatching Kay's hand, Damaris announced that she had to see the new line of Nimbus brooms. Honora declined to join them; stalking boys had never been her style (Riddle did not count). Besides, the air was too full of the bewitching scent of a city summer, and she did not feel like wasting her day in a Quidditch shop.

Leaving her friends, Honora wandered down Diagon Alley, basking in the late summer sunshine. She wore one of her new dresses, a lovely cream-coloured thing with candy red trim. It set off her glowing skin to perfection and Honora was in such a beautiful mood that she could not help but smile at everyone she saw.

Honora stopped short when she saw a tall, lean, handsome boy with black hair step out of Gringotts Bank. Tom Riddle was looking very well. His skin had some colour, and he looked healthy and confident. He wore sharp pinstripe slacks and white cotton shirt-sleeves, rolled up to the elbows. Honora felt a funny pressure at the base of her throat as she stared at him.

Tom turned his head slightly in her direction. Honora laughed as he did a classic double-take, his eyebrows raised in recognition of her. Tossing her hair, she grinned and waved at him. Might as well get on good terms with the Head Boy.

Tom actually raised his hand and waved back, although he did not smile. Putting as much strength into her walk as she could muster, Honora went to him, remembering her vow to befriend, deceive, get closer.

'Hello!' she said.

'Hullo,' Tom replied, coolly polite.

'Happy summer!' Honora said.

'Uh, right.' Tom's face was expressionless, eyes flat.

Well, fine, Tom Riddle. You don't want to have fun, I'll just have to drag you along with me, Honora thought. 'Want to go get some ice cream?' she suggested brightly.

'No, thanks,' Tom answered, looking off into the distance. He seemed eager to be rid of her.

'Come on! It's a beautiful day, and the birds are chirping, and we don't have much of this gorgeous warm weather left.' She grabbed his hand and before he could protest, she was dragging him through the street toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. It had to be done before she lost her nerve.

'I don't care for ice cream,' he said.

'Liar. Everyone loves ice cream.'

'I really have somewhere I need to be.' Tom sounded exasperated with her.

'That's right, you need to be eating ice cream.' Honora knew she was being annoying, but did not care.

Fortescue's was crowded, but there was a café table available outside. They sat down at the small wrought iron table. Honora leaned forward on her elbows and smiled some more at Tom. That seemed to unnerve him more than anything. It made Honora feel bold.

A waiter appeared at the table, looking expectant. 'I'll have a cinnamon sundae,' Honora ordered. She looked at Tom. He stayed stubbornly silent. 'Let's see…' she said. 'I think Tom's favourite flavour is…dark chocolate.'

The waiter said, 'Right-o, one dark chocolate and one cinnamon sundae,' and left.

'So what have you been doing this summer?' Honora asked.

'Working,' Tom said shortly.

'Working where?'

He sighed. 'You're irritating, you know that?'

'Yes, I know. So where were you working?'

Tom lowered his gaze at her. 'Fine. I was working as an apprentice for an alchemist.'

'Oh? Who?' Honora batted her eyelashes in interest.

'His name is Nicolas Flamel.'

'Really!' That was interesting. Honora sat up straight. 'What did you do for him?'

'Research.'

Honora leaned back in her chair. Tom Riddle was a tough nut to crack. 'I believe,' she said lightly, 'that Flamel recently published a paper on the ancient Hermetic hieroglyphs. I read about it in the Quarterly Journal of Alchemy.'

'You take scholarly journals?' Tom asked.

'Yes,' said Honora. 'You can never learn too much.'

'True,' he said. 'Although the responsibility of knowledge is more than some can bear.'

'To use it wisely, you mean?' Honora asked.

'To use it at all,' said Tom.

She narrowed her eyes. 'Some knowledge is best left in theory,' she said. 'But that's where you and I disagree.'

'I daresay we do,' Tom said, and smiled something charming. They both leaned back as their ice cream sundaes arrived.

'So,' she said, 'what sort of research did you do for Flamel?'

'I'll defer that answer for now.'

'For now?' Honora smiled more broadly. 'Does that mean you'll tell me someday?'

Caught, his lips twitched and he shrugged his shoulders. 'No guarantees.'

Honora used her spoon to swirl her ice cream around in its dish. She decided to continue her policy of directness. Tom would see through her intentions in an instant. 'You know, my… relative… Aleister Crowley. He's an expert on the Hermetic arts. And in the family tradition, I've always been fascinated with it. Alchemy offers both spiritual and physical transformation, a highly useful skill, yes?'

'Yes,' said Tom. 'Flamel has corresponded with Aleister Crowley on the subject. Incidentally, Honora, do you know him? Crowley?'

'No,' she said. 'Besides, he's set to die in a couple of years…' she trailed off, aware she'd made a blunder with the timeline. 'Or so I heard. His health is failing.'

'Mmm,' said Tom. 'It's too bad. Flamel is having quite the time with these Hermetic hieroglyphs.'

'Oh, Tom, don't keep me in suspense!' Honora burst. 'At least tell me what you've learned so far. I'm interested, and I doubt there's a single other person you can talk to about it. You can't go through a whole year at Hogwarts like that, you know.' She tilted her head prettily at him.

There was a moment of conversational silence in which birds chirped, people around them spoke and laughed, and the air above their own table was thick with its own energy. Tom looked straight at Honora as though in the process of deciding something. He opened his mouth. 'We were working on ways to translate the ancient Hermetic hieroglyphs into a useful formula for physical transmutation.'

Honora raised her eyebrows in acute interest. 'Really! And did you? Translate them, I mean?'

'Yes, to an extent,' Tom said. 'We had some trouble with certain sections of the text that appear to be part of some kind of cipher. Otherwise, we discovered some very interesting things about circumventing the properties of gold to allow spontaneous conjuration.'

'The goblins won't like the sounds of that,' Honora smirked.

'No! Although the work is not finished yet.'

'It sounds amazing,' Honora said truthfully. 'To me, what's fascinating is the possibility of an underlying Arithmatic equation that explains all of magic, leading to the transmutation of the very soul itself. I mean, the foundation of Hermetic alchemy is based on it; the knowledge just seems to have been lost through the ages.'

'Yes, exactly!' Tom's serious indigo eyes seemed to glow with inner light. 'If the Hermetic knowledge was completely recovered, it would open up possibilities that no one has ever dreamt of. Flamel is far along, but even he admits that the full scholarly understanding of the Philosopher's Stone continues to elude him.'

'The Philosopher's Stone.'

'Yes.' Tom's face showed sudden caution.

'Because Flamel is immortal,' Honora said. Suddenly she wondered why on earth Albus Dumbledore had sent Tom Riddle to a person with the knowledge of immortality.

'He and his wife Perenelle have been alive for six hundred and seventeen years, yes,' Tom stated.

'And…what do you think about that?' Honora pried, carefully.

Tom sat back and thought for a moment. 'I think…he seems happy with his choices.'

'And with his wife?' Honora quipped. 'I mean, six hundred years, one woman…'

'Perenelle is an interesting character,' Tom said. 'I can't say I blame Nicolas for including her in his scheme.'

Honora could not believe her ears. Had Tom Riddle just approved of sharing the power of immortality? This was getting weird.

'It was funny,' Tom continued, 'Flamel had never heard the story of your Egyptian wizard and his unfortunate crystallised immortality under the sea.'

Honora gulped. Oops. 'I didn't realise you paid so much attention to what I said.'

'Well, only when it sounds like it might be useful,' Tom admitted.

'I see,' Honora laughed. 'You'll have to listen to me a lot more then, because I've been made Head Girl.'

'Surprise, surprise.'

'And I suppose you're Head Boy?'

Tom nodded his head, lips pressed ever so slightly in a smile.

'Hmm.' Honora saw that down the street, her friends had come out of Quality Quidditch Supplies. They would be looking for her, she realised with disappointment. 'Well, Tom, I have to go get the rest of my schoolbooks. But thank you for your company,' she said.

'I didn't have a choice,' he said. 'Oh, but Honora?'

'Yes?'

'You were right, dark chocolate is my favourite.'

Honora laughed, delighted. 'I love being right!' she grinned at Tom. As she walked around the table to leave, she let her hand run along his shoulder lightly. 'I'll see you on the train!' she called back at him.

Tom merely looked at her, then raised his hand to give her a tiny wave with his long fingers.

Honora surreptitiously paid the bill of a few Sickles and then met up with her friends in very high spirits. Tom Riddle wasn't all that bad; she had enjoyed his conversation far more than she thought she would. Careful there, she told herself. When she was talking to him, it was easy to forget who he was going to become. Easy to forget that one of these days he would have to die by her hand.

Reunited, the group of Ravenclaws spotted Ash Wynn from down the street, who bounded up, giving hugs to the girls and a high-five to Lawrence, who immediately starting talking about that year's professional Quidditch statistics. Honora sighed happily. Her crowd was back for another year of fun, and she had beguiled Tom Riddle into pleasant conversation. Seventh-year was shaping up to be very fine, indeed.