Author's Note: My first beta'ed chapter! Many thanks to Chinese Miko. All the Psyche stuff is mine, and food for Hermione/Tom stuff later.
The Chamber of Secrets
He entered the laboratory, looking for anything which didn't fit with the original research – the Promens Brew, they called it. Soon he spotted something glowing gold near him. A series of vials, eight empty and four full. He approached them carefully and looked at the labels. He smiled at the name. "Nix". Snow. It was clearly a play on "Nox", the part of the mind responsible for dreams. Now to find what she had written in her notes.
Lazily, he summoned the worn notebook on the shelf into his hand and looked at it. At least she was clever enough not to put it directly after the Brew information. Unless... Specialis Revelio! he ordered silently, but the pages remained blank. Well, there were other possibilities. He flipped through the rest of the pages and came to upside down writing on the last few. Turning the book around, he smiled to himself. He, too, had turned his notebooks for such double use, when his instructors had been boring and he wanted to keep his own notes separate... He blinked and looked back at the notes, reading the shorthand easily.
"The Nox is the most unstable part of the human mind, as it is that which dominates when the Dux is asleep. It constantly leaps around, from association to association, and that way can sometimes come to more insight than the Dux, the waking mind, both having access to the same memories. Study of dreams thus often reveals a lot about the state of the overall Psyche. Most of the time, it is complete nonsense, however, as random memories are picked and looked at. The Muggle psychologist Freud believed dreams to reflect the heart's inner-most desires. To the witch or wizard, that is utter rubbish. The Nox also has a tendency not to remain within the boundaries of the Psyche, and it is possible without any spell for it to access others' memories, especially if a link already exists."
So far, this read like a textbook – but with new insights. He had never heard of this sort of escaping, of transcending the mind... Hermione was indeed very bright, almost as much so as he.
"The potion, if the ingredients are correct, will accomplish several things. First: it will allow a small portion of the Dux to mix with the Nox, allowing for relevant dreams and a somewhat lucid feel to it. Second, it will eradicate the barriers of the Psyche, allowing the Nox to wander. It will be difficult, however, for it to wander into the Nox of someone who has not taken the potion – someone with a closed Psyche. Third, somebody consumes with the potion a thought of the other, which ensures that they will dream of the other. The two, open Psyches will find each other and the 'lucid' dreams will merge. Because one person will already be dreaming of the other, that person will slip into the role set up for him or her by the dream and enter that way."
This was fascinating –brilliant!– to come up with such a mechanism, and to design a potion that made it possible... A note, less legible and in a different color ink, obviously made after the experiment, read: "Success. Note: I was incorporated into his dream too much and lost some of my lucid free will."
Tom closed the notebook, happy, and put it back on the shelf where it had been. He then went back to the potions and took three of the full vials down. He unstoppered them and thought of himself, concentrating on thoughts of his hair, face and eyes, of his split soul, of his being Head Boy and considered the smartest Hogwarts student in a century, of the clique that had hung around him, of the emblem of Slytherin, of him. His pale fingered hand drew the wand away, looking at the silver strands that clung to the tip, before putting one bit in each of the three vials. Then he took the last one and pocketed it, hoping Hermione wouldn't count the remaining vials.
O-o-o-O-o-o-O
Cold permeated every inch of her, seemingly freezing her over, for she couldn't move. Her wet robe lay on her, chilling her even more, if that was even possible. He stood above her, tall and handsome. Tom. His figure seemed blurred somehow – or was that merely because of the tears in her eyes? She thought he smiled.
"Thank you," he whispered, leaning down and touching her cheek with burning fingers. How odd! They were usually cold. "Thank you for your great sacrifice."
The somewhat tender moment was interrupted by Harry, bursting in. Only then did she realize that she was in a huge, wet chamber of stone, decorated in a reptilian motif. Near her where the enormous gray feet of what seemed to be a statue, so tall that she could not see its face.
Harry tripped over a stone and his wand fell out of his hand to clatter noisily near her. She tried to take the wand and give it to him, but her muscles would not respond. Instead, a pale, long-fingered hand gracefully picked it off the floor, and Tom Riddle stood, holding it, looking at Harry with earnest eyes.
Oddly enough, her friend seemed happy to see him, and exclaimed gleefully, "Tom!" When Tom did not return the wand, he seemed to be suspicious. "You don't get it! We're in the Chamber of Secrets! There's a basilisk!" An edge of panic rose into his voice, and the terror in his eyes did not seem suppressed by the older man's insurance that the dreaded monster would not come until it was cold.
She watched as a confrontation played out, as Harry learned the truth, and saw her, as he learned that Tom had possessed her. Things got blurrier and blurrier, until she could only see two figures, and the gold-and-red bird that had joined them, and even its wonderful song, which reduced the cold, only came to her in bits and pieces. Then everything became fragmented.
Something huge and scaly coming from above her towards Harry, its emerald green color standing out despite the increasing grayness of everything, and the noise of hissing overcoming everything in her mind.
A hand snatching a gleaming sword, its silver blade moving in great arcs and circles against the darkness.
Redness mixing into the water, Harry's body lying down, his head falling on her stomach, his blood flowing out of his arm, over her, flowing everywhere with its dreadful warmth and its metallic stench, and Tom Riddle's voice gloating.
The darkness becoming more and more complete, pressing against her eyes, the cold finally penetrating her heart and her mind until she couldn't even think, couldn't remember, could only hear his voice, higher and colder than before, thanking her.
O-o-o-O-o-o-O
The quartet rose from dinner. Most of the meal had passed by with little conversation other than the now inevitable discussion of events in Germany. As Bellatrix and Antonin left to their rooms, Tom let drop his trap.
"I think I'll go pay a visit to my old Potions professor. I'll apparate back tomorrow."
Hermione rolled her eyes, launching into her familiar "You can't apparate or disapparate on Hogwarts grounds!" before realizing the enormity of her mistake (on Dis-) and biting her lip till it turned quite white.
Tom smiled and finished her sentence for her. "Yes, I was surprised myself at the number of Hogwarts students who never read Hogwarts, A History." He looked at her pointedly. "Or the number of Beauxbatons students who apparently do."
She avoided his gaze, looking at the table, and answered that it was part of her general culture.
"So, tell me about Beauxbatons, there's a lot I don't know about it, which you must know. For instance, is it a state sponsored school?" She nodded, trying desperately to remember what little she knew about Beauxbatons. It apparently was more luxurious than Hogwarts, but that could be Fleur's exaggeration.
"Does it allow anyone to enter?" he asked, seemingly very interested (he would be, wouldn't he?) and she nodded again, saying "Like Hogwarts."
Tom looked at her with a dangerous grin and grabbed her wrist, his cold fingers making her shiver. That's not right, they were burning hot before... She thought, before dismissing it as just a dream – he must not have taken the potion, and her Nox had returned with a vengeance. "Really? I was under the impression it was a private school for pureblood students. And oddly enough, Grangère isn't a clan.
"Why don't you tell me the truth?" His speech was laced with power, she could feel it, and she had to dig her nails into her palm to keep from obeying him.
"What truth?" she asked with a provocative grin.
He laughed, a high, mirthless laugh, sounding odd coming from his own handsome visage. "Let's begin with this one. How do you know about the Chamber?" His voice had lost all its charm but kept its power, it was a voice she could not disobey.
"It was opened. By you. The diary..." As soon as she mentioned the diary, her dream came back, and she understood – a bit late – that the only way he could know she knew was if he had been in her dreams.
"You took the Nix potion. You saw my dreams."
"As you saw mine, and doubtless tried to analyze my mind based on what you saw-" She interrupted him, seizing her chance for a lie, for anything.
"That's where I learned about the diary and how it has power. It's your Horcrux. You split your soul..."
He laughed again, admiring her boldness, but feeling her fear radiating in waves. "Don't lie to me, Hermione," he whispered, voice soft again, smooth, like milk and honey...
"How many times did you mutilate your soul?" she asked, sparring with him, trying to remain on the offensive because her defense was lacking. She avoided looking into his eyes, which were now flashing crimson, knowing that to do that would be to give up forever.
"Once." His voice was final, and he let go of her wrist. "Should we go over the protocols for making the potion?" Was that his way of declaring a truce?
O-o-o-O-o-o-O
Bellatrix was scratching her cat between the shoulderblades, in the golden sunlight that flowed through the window, painting the room in colors of flame, and making the animal's black fur glitter. She looked up as Hermione entered the room.
"How are you doing?" she asked conversationally, looking curiously at her friend, whose face was pale and wan.
"I'm fine, I just had a trying conversation with Tom." Hermione's tone was odd, as though she was trying very hard to sound inconsequential, untroubled – and failing miserably. Bellatrix shrugged and pointed at the bed.
"You need some rest," she ordered, her voice allowing no discussion.
Hermione nodded and slumped on her bed, where she hit something hard. Wincing, she looked and saw...
A book, worn and a bit tattered, the gilded lettering on its black leather cover peeling off. Psyche, by Nagy. Intrigued, she extended one hand to touch the book, forgetting all precautions, lost in the world of leather, ink, and parchment.
Emerald ink marred the perfect pattern of interlocked circles and figure eights that formed the inside cover. A handwriting, neat, ornate, and elegantly slanted, she had never seen before.
"Hermione,
"I found this tome seven years ago, in the Hogwarts library. Well, that's not exactly true – it wasn't part of the actual library, but a small, old room on the side, filled with books a dozen times more precious than those belonging to the School. At any rate, this priceless tome offers a lot of insight into the soul, its workings, and so much more. I rather thought you'd like to see it.
"Read it, and then we'll have much to discuss.
"Tom Riddle"
He must have put this on her pillow before dinner, which meant either that his suspicions had bee aroused then – unlikely, on the whole – or that he was sending her a message. Maybe he meant that they could still work together, and that they should build up more trust. Or perhaps the message – if there was one – was in the book itself.
She turned to the first chapter and began her perusal, reading quickly. Within five minutes she had summoned a notebook and started ferociously scratching it with her quill, spattering ink onto her robes and sheets. Idly, she thought she would like to see Tom's notes – for she very much doubted he would even think about writing them directly into the book – not a book from 1674.
Three passages in particular stood out from the rest of the text.
"The Psyche, often referred to as the soul, which has very different connotations, is so named after an old Greek tale: the story of Eros, the god of love, and a mortal, Psyche. In the tale, their love pulls them through many obstacles, and Psyche becomes a goddess, the goddess of the soul. They live in happiness, for when love and the soul are together, joy resides."
"Legilimency, literally the reading of minds, is in truth the reading of the memories and personality which reside in the Mens, from which the Nox and Dux draw their memories. At its most basic, it simply pulls out random memories, as though casting a net into an ocean. The advanced Legilimens can examining the specific memories that the Dux is drawing on, and can even have a sort of alarm ring when those memories conflict the words – in other words when the person is lying."
"The Dux and the personality it is always connected to take extensive damage whenever it performs an act of 'evil', such as theft, rape, or murder. It is as though a small sliver of it breaks off, connected only by a string to the main part. The first to get so disconnected is usually the seat of emotions. Certain incantations complete the cut, and allow that piece of the Dux and the Mens (referred to by the ignorant as the soul, as they refer to the Psyche as a whole), and store it into an object. Yet some connection remains, which forbids the remainder of the Psyche from effectively dying unless the fragment is returned to its body. This magic renders the wizard who performs it increasingly unable to feel."
She read on until, with one chapter left to go, she felt her eyelids fall, leaden, and her world blur around the edges. She managed to finish her paragraph before her eyes closed of their own accord and she collapsed on the book, her short hair covering its crisp, worn parchments, the leather binding leaving its imprint on her cheek.
Bellatrix was long asleep, and the clock on the wall ticked, three black hands indicating in the position of eight o'clock – but then, the order of the numbers was upside down, save for the smaller numbers indicating minutes. It took a while to get used to it, but one who did understand it would have realized it was truly four.
Reviews:
James-Padfoot:I adore you! Ok, thanks for the confidence booster (read two of your stories, they're great).
About the timeline - I know it's not the official one, and although I wanted it this way I'll have to change it now someone realized... That's a lot of retro-fitting to do, I'll get working on that.
About them being OC: again, they're much younger, but you are right. I tried to make Hermione and Tom more cannon in this one, and I had an original plan for Bellatrix being very sadistic. But with the timeline stuff, I'll have to drop her out of the whole thing, I think- she's too young to have known Tom at Hogwarts. Means I'll have to come up with another third-party... I might make it Anton, make him more of a presence in this fic.
About the other death eaters: I contend that while he worked at B&B, only a few if any of them would be there with him.
NOTE TO EVERYONE: I will be editing the old chapters, and I'll tell you any changes, which might be pretty major now I got caught at messing up the timeline. So no new installments until I finish the editing.