Refer to the song 'The Witch's Daughter' by Ashley Serena.
Mannequin paired with marionette,
In dissonant discord, their deadly duet
.
She closed her eyes from the blinding flash of lightning illuminating the dark, stormy sky. The following crash of thunder felt like they cracked by her ears, but it was nothing compared to the screams of the child in her arms.
The newborn wailed and flailed. He did not drink his milk, and if it were possible, his cries would get even louder for each cracking whip of the thunder outside.
Honestly, she was at her wit's end.
Six years of school and an entire war couldn't have prepared her for this moment. She was utterly on her own. To be fair, becoming a mother was the last thing she expected when she came to this. She had absolutely no idea how to care for a child. She had barely taken care of herself when she was on the run since the start of the war.
This… this was different.
This was not like fighting a horde of dark wizards and witches, or creatures that stalked in the night.
This was about caring for a newborn baby, helpless, innocent, and completely defenseless.
But she'd be damned if she let a child, her own son, be left untaken cared of.
"Shh… Alduin. I'm here, I'm here…" she shushed, rocking him to her chest. Imitating the nursing mothers she saw once long ago. But still, he continued crying.
What to do? What could she do? If only she had someone to turn to, like her own mother, or even Mrs. Weasley…
That's when she remembered.
Back when she was just a little girl. When she started displaying bouts of magic. It had only been a joke back then, about her being a witch, but she still felt scared at the thought of it all. So to show that her parents would never love her any less despite the strange things happening to her, her mother sung her a lullaby.
When she started humming that beautiful song she could never forget, her son's flailing stopped.
When she started singing the words that brought her comfort, he stopped crying, and the storm outside might as well have been muted.
"There is magic inside of you…"
Alduin swallowed the last of his lunch, vegetables and all, and Hermione couldn't help but smile as she inwardly sighed in relief. Despite his growing preference, he still had no complaints about eating other food- fruit or vegetable. Why, just the other day, she had to lecture him for eating all of the clementine in the fruit basket in one day. She wasn't sure how this gradual change in his diet would affect him, but she surely wouldn't take any chances.
They had spent the rest of the day there at the Forest of Dean, just walking through an unbeaten path she hashed from her memories, all the while she told him stories about her family and friends. As usual, Alduin absorbed all of her words like a sponge, even asking questions here and there. He was quite fascinated when she talked about her childhood, and she was more than happy to oblige. Only withholding bits and details about things that wouldn't fit in the current era. She wasn't sure how she would be able to explain how a laptop works. During their travels, she ensured that Alduin had a good dose of the life in the muggle world as it was in the wizarding realm. As if she'll censor her son about that side of his heritage when it flowed thickly in her veins no matter how much she spent in the wizarding world for most of her life. Thankfully, Alduin's inquisitiveness had no problems about the non-magical world. In his own words, he was quite curious at how muggles were able to live without the aid of magic.
Something soft tinkled through their ears that broke their peaceful silence. Not a bell, but more like the soft melody of wind chimes in the breeze.
"Well, he's early," Hermione commented as her eyes fell to the door of their flat.
Alduin nodded in agreeance, "Oh, can I open the door, mother?"
She smiled down at his grinning face, "Of course you can."
Her son all but jumped from his seat as he made his way to the door. Hermione drank the rest of her water before waving a hand at the table. The empty plates and cutlery floated in answer to her magic towards the sink where they immediately began to wash themselves. She slipped towards her room quickly to retrieve the seamless chest from her warded cabinet.
When she returned to the foyer, she watched just in time for Alduin to hold onto the doorknob and slide it to the other side so smoothly and effortlessly as if the knob was made of magnet. When he opened the door, instead of the carpeted and beige blossoming wallpaper of the hallway, it opened to a porch made of stone that looked bleached white from the glaring rays of the sun where an old man in his mid-fifties stood. He wore a striped penny collar shirt underneath a navy herringbone suit. A long black overcoat hung over his shoulders while a newsboy cap hid his graying blonde hair. In his hand was a seemingly normal suitcase.
"Buon pomeriggio, Postino!" Alduin greeted exuberantly.
"Alduin!" the old man grinned widely as he practically scooped the boy in his arms and kissed his cheek to which her son kissed back. "My, you grow taller every time I see you."
He laughed good-naturedly, his Italian accent thick, as he set him back down on the floor.
"And you haven't changed a bit, signore," Alduin gestured with his hand, "may I take your coat and cap?"
"Certainly. Thank you, my boy. That's a good lad," he handed him the coat and cap to which Alduin hung on the coat rack beside the door. His wavy black hair fluttered from the hilltop breeze somewhere in Sicily as he closed the door behind the old man.
"Postino," Hermione greeted as she approached, giving the older man a hug before kissing each other's cheeks in greeting, "How have you been? How's your wife?"
"Hermione, dear, I'm glad to see you're doing fine. Carmela and I are doing wonderfully. We just got back from a vacation at the Caribbean. Such a nice place. Wouldn't mind going back there," he gave another laugh, "Carmela sends her regards."
She smiled sincerely at the news, "That's good. Now, humor me, won't you?"
"Don't I always?" he followed her past the foyer towards the table where he set up his suitcase.
"Coffee?" she offered, setting down a mug of freshly brewed coffee in front of him, knowing he'd be arriving today.
"Ah grazie," he smiled.
Hermione met Postino De Sena during a hunt eight years ago. He was a connoisseur of magical artefacts (both dark and not), as well as a trader of uncommon magical goods, and his wife, Carmela, had been her intended target. They have been business partners ever since.
The locks snapped open and one by one, Postino took out a myriad of items and set them on the table. She stood adjacent to him while Alduin took the seat opposite her.
"Two rolls of hidebehind fur… one clutch of ashwinder eggs… five ampules of unicorn blood- Oh! And you'll love this- screech beetle from Amityville," he listed.
She took the silver tin from his hand the size of a matchbox and immediately, she felt the scuttling of insect legs inside. When she shook the tin, it let out a high-pitched sound only an insect could produce mixed with what sounded like the scream of a dying rabbit. The metal container also shook a bit between her fingers from the beetle's frantic beating of its wings inside.
"Funny to you, but to the inferi and other fell creatures, that's like nails on a chalkboard," Postino divulged when he noticed the amused tilt of her lips.
She set the tin down, to which her son grabbed and examined it in fascination.
"What is it with you and bugs, Postino?" she asked.
The old man scrunched up his face in a pout, "I just like them."
She shrugged before examining the rest of the goods he brought for her, even though by now the items he's brought have only been the best of quality.
"Ah, ah, ah, careful there, Alduin. That's Dragonsbreath."
Both mother and son snapped their heads to the innocuous-looking trinket in Alduin's hands. Their eyes wide in astonishment. It was a beautiful ornament made of gold plates engraved with intricate designs formed into the shape of a closed flower bud. It would make a good shelf décor.
"I thought you couldn't get anymore," Hermione gaped, mesmerized still.
"Oh, my dear, you know how friendly I can be," Postino grinned mischievously, "plus, that dragon breeder owes me."
Alduin rolled the item in his hand, memorizing every detail before looking to his mother with a pleading gleam in his eyes.
"Can I try it, mother?"
Hermione chewed on her lip in contemplation. Dragonsbreath, as extremely rare as it was, couldn't be considered any darker than the ones decorating her warded cabinet. Still, it didn't make it any less dangerous.
"Alright," she relented carefully, "but be careful."
She reminded, but Alduin had already jumped from his seat and positioned himself towards the flat's foyer where it had a large open space. He held out his arm and steadied his feet perfectly as if he had held items such as this every single day of his life. His thumb pressed one of the gems studded underneath the flower and the golden petals opened immediately. Fire, colored in hues of red and orange to blues and white, spewed forth across the open area it almost reached the front door. Alduin held it there for only a second longer before he pressed his thumb on the gemstone again and the petals clamped itself shut. Gray smoke filtered between the plates.
"Wicked," her son said almost breathlessly before placing the magical item back on the table. "I've read in a book that only one out of one-hundred thousand dragons can produce true dragonfire. It's said that it can melt stone and burn bodies into ashes in seconds."
"And even rarer to harness them into these items," Hermione added, taking the turn to touch the flower this time. It felt cold as if it didn't just let out the most searing heat in existence that could rival fiendfyre.
"One jug of water from the Jordan River… two bags of lavender and knotgrass… one phial of acromantula venom… and lastly, a violin."
"A violin?" Hermione raised a brow as the old man took out said violin inside a case.
"Here you are, Alduin," Postino grinned as he set the case in front of her son.
Alduin's wide eyes shifted from the old man to the case, not daring to even touch it, "A gift… for me? But it's not my birthday."
"No, it's not, my boy, but when my wife and I visited her hometown in Naples and saw this, we just knew it had to be yours," he said proudly, "This instrument was made in the 1700s, and there's only around six-hundred or so left in existence. I know you'd take good care of it."
Alduin turned his gaze to her, seeking for permission, and just who was she to deny him?
She nodded her head, and her son unlatched the case's clasps. When he opened the lid, she could hear his sharp intake of breath. Even Hermione had to marvel at the polished wood that mirrored his reflection.
He continued to stare at it, as if he's never seen anything like it. From an early age, her son found a proclivity to music. She had purchased a piano sometime when Alduin was only two years old, and she would sometimes play it whenever she felt sad and nostalgic from remembering her past. Her son would listen every time, and as soon as he was able, he practically begged her to teach him. He was not a fan of the charmed instruments most wizards and witches use.
Alduin found a love for violin, and they would sometimes play classical muggle music together.
Except with a magic twist, of course.
"I'll be right back," he said quickly, taking his gift, and zipping towards his room. His door closed with a soft click of the lock.
"Did… uhh… didn't he like it?" Postino turned to her, confused.
Her eyes remained to her son's bedroom door before smiling back at the old Italian wizard reassuringly, "He loved it. Don't worry, Postino. He'll be back in a few."
Relieved, he finally sat down on one of the chairs after closing his suitcase and settling it down by his feet.
"So, what's the action?" he finally asked, now that her son wasn't around.
Without missing a beat, Hermione pulled out the seamless chest from who-knows-where and set it squarely on the table. The safest materials Postino brought marched their way to the spare room she converted into a potions lab with a wave of her hand, in order to leave ample space around the chest, while the rest she set aside nearby. Not trusting her own magic to handle such sensitive material.
Hermione fished out her wand from the holster strapped around her arm beneath her robe sleeves with a flick of her wrist. With a couple complex arches, a thin line reappeared around the plain-looking chest before it popped open to reveal the dark orb inside.
Postino practically spilled his coffee in shock, already knowing what it was she was showing him. She casted a quick glance towards him, making sure he's alright between his choked coughs, before swishing her wand around some more to temporarily disable the runes that safeguarded the dark artefact and rendered it useless.
"I got this one from my last hunt," she informed as she kept her eye on the orb. She wouldn't dare touch that thing without proper equipment.
"Allsehend…" Postino said breathlessly, blue eyes wide and unblinking at the polished black surface.
"It was basically leeching off the wizard that found it. Keeping him alive long enough to make sure it kept itself safe until it could find another host to feed on. The poor soul had already lost his mind by the time I arrived," she eyed the orb in absolute disdain. Really, no matter how long she's been doing this, her war-hardened heart still felt sympathy for the victims of these things. Even though is was their fault to blame in the first place. "I just found a way to destroy the first part of it."
Postino shot his head up at her, aghast, "You can't be serious! There's only eight of these in existence!"
"And that's seven more still out there," Hermione hissed. "And you know I don't really destroy them. Just tame them."
"Oh, yes, you're right. After all…" he turned his gaze back at the orb. His pupils dilated with rapture as he slowly leaned towards it, "It would be a shame if something so precious would go to waste…"
One second there was a flash of swirling fire and shadow, the next, the chest's runes glowed a bright gold and then snapped itself shut. The seams once more disappeared.
"Are you alright, Postino?" she asked as she discreetly tucked the chest away again. Her chocolate pools watched him carefully for every minute movement, "It's a lot stronger than I thought. If it could influence you just by looking at it."
The old man blinked owlishly, once, twice, before shaking his head as he realized he had just been caught into a stupor, "Was I…? Oh dear… I'm sorry, Hermione. I lost myself there."
"It's alright, Postino. I didn't think this Allsehend would be this powerful. You know that I won't let anything happen to you while I'm here," she placed a comforting hand on his.
That wasn't a complete lie. She did promise to keep him and his wife safe from any artefacts she had as well as the ones they had her examine. It's just that she's handled so much of these artifacts for so long, and ever since she came here, she had grown a sort of immunity to the dark pull most of them had. She wasn't sure how much they really affect a normal person.
"Speaking of," Postino started, wanting to shift the topic to help stave off his nerves about what just happened. He gestured with his hand between her, the spot where the orb had just been not too long ago, and her son's bedroom door, "How is little Alduin faring about your… occupation?"
Hermione drew in a deep breath through her nose as she took a seat adjacent to him. She had already expected him to ask her about it. They may be business partners, but the old couple had been practically besotted by her son as a toddler and had since seen him as their own grandchild.
"As well as he can," she answered, "You know how special he is. His curiosity is insatiable. Just as he's inquisitive about muggles, he also has no problems with… the dangerous side of magic."
If there's one thing she learned in the war, its that the world was a canvas painted in shades of grey. She didn't want her Alduin to be a misguided dark wizard, but she doesn't want him to be righteously blind one either. It would be hypocritical of her, considering that she can't call herself a 'light' witch anymore, but she's not a dark one had only explained to him the basics of dark magic last year.
"I just recently showed him some of the 'safest' artefacts in my cabinet."
The old man frowned, "But he's only ten."
"And he was only a toddler when he had his first accidental magic, and four when he could already use and control it consciously," she said with her chest puffed out in pride.
It had been quite the sight.
Alduin's first accidental magic was to shoot out sparkles of light from his hands when he clapped in joy back when they watched a meteor shower. Then, because he wasn't allowed to play outside because of the rain, he had filled their flat with autumn leaves where he would dive and swim around in his autumn-wear indoors. Then a few years later, he would start fetching nearby items towards him just by looking at them. Like some wandless, nonverbal accio. She suspected that he had just copied from her using wandless magic to do simple chores. Hermione had to hold in how proud and impressed she was at her son to chide him, not wanting him to become lazy.
She continued, "My son is unique, Postino. You know this. Alduin is not an ordinary boy, and the strategy I chose was to keep up with him while also guiding him. I'd rather be there every step of the way whenever he discovers something new to give him an unfiltered opinion than leave him on his own." - she sighed – "I just hope he remains unbiased. He's smart enough to draw conclusions on his own, and so far, he hasn't done anything that's considered 'dark'."
"Well, he is his mother's son, after all. That mind of his is definitely from you," Postino chuckled good-naturedly before turning serious as he squeezed her hand in a comforting manner, "And you're right. As a parent, your job is to guide him, not control him, and as far as I can tell, you're doing a magnificent job. He's young, yes, but he's sharper than most his age. Alduin may not have inherited from you in appearance, but he does have your spark and spirit."
Hermione couldn't help the smile from tugging her lips. With no one else around, it was really nice to hear such sincere, kind words. She supposed, as a mother, there will always be that part of her that worried over her child, or whether she's been doing a good job as a mother or not. It's not like she could get her performance graded every year.
She loved Alduin with all her heart, but she won't disrespect him by blinding him from the dangers that are wrought along with the good in this world.
Besides, it's not like they'll be separating anytime soon.
"Thank you, Postino, truly."
The man smiled contentedly before letting go of her hand but also leaning forward across the table, "So, any chance you'll tell me about the boy's father this time? or any prospective candidates for the position?"
Hermione threw her head back in laughter despite his seriousness. She waved a hand dismissively.
If only he knew.
"Oh no, no, no. Honestly, Postino, I don't have time for any of that. It's not my priority, and I doubt there's anyone willing to take on a single mother with a ten-year-old son at this age."
He huffed back with his arms crossed against his chest, "You underestimate yourself, Hermione. Mother or no, you're a very beautiful witch. I wouldn't be surprised if you already had some besotted wizard looking at you from afar."
"Don't let your wife hear that," Hermione grimaced, "and please don't word it out like that."
"Hermione, my Carmela will have me sleep at the stables if I say otherwise."
She giggled, "But seriously, Postino, it's alright. I don't need a man. I'm perfectly content with my Alduin."
"Well, you should at least tell your son something when he asks about his father."
She snorted, "If he asks."
Before he could ask her to elaborate further, Alduin finally came out of his room. A wide smile was plastered on his face with a hint of blush coloring his ears and cheeks, making him look absolutely adorable, while in his hands were the new bow and violin he had just been gifted with.
Alduin thanked Postino for the wonderful present, saying how much he liked it, and offered to play a song for him as thanks. The Italian wizard couldn't be anymore eager to listen to his song, and Alduin even convinced Hermione to do a duet with him on the piano.
Infected by her son's excitement, she hardly put up a fight as she sat on the stool in the sitting area.
With the aid of her magic and a bit of his, the moment they played the first note of their song, the entire flat was then illusioned as if they were under the sea.
.
"You be careful now, alright Alduin?" she reminded as per usual before she leaves to go on another hunt.
"I will. You be careful too, mother," Alduin smiled back before letting her brush his hair aside and kiss him on the forehead.
"I'll see you later, sweetie."
With that said, Alduin turned on his heel and ran towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, only to stop mid-way to turn and wave at her. Hermione waved back and watched her son go until he disappeared through the entrance.
"Oh, terribly sorry, miss," said the stranger she had just bumped into when she turned around.
"It's alright," she muttered back, but the odd man with a hat and coat seemed to be in a hurry as he didn't stop to wait for her response and kept walking forward.
Years of her war-addled paranoia kicked in and Hermione quickly casted diagnostic and searching spells on her person. When she found nothing out of sort, nothing stolen nor any items or spells placed on her in that brief contact, she quickly searched for the necklace hidden beneath her blouse.
She held it up to her face and examined it critically before letting out a sigh of relief. Nothing looked out of place, and it was still cold to the touch.
"No certificates, no references, no registrations, no proof of employment, no passport, no identifications… nothing. It's as if they just popped out of nowhere," Abraxas reported from his place in the long table of their meeting room. Ever since Tom had finally met the boy, he'd been adamant, almost obsessed even, to find any sort of information on both mother and son. "They don't even have a vault at Gringotts."
"And yet they live in a flat that's worth no less than two-hundred galleons," Tom glared intensely at the papers strewn about before him. Not liking a single bit about the results his followers have gathered.
Why? Why couldn't they find anything on them?
Abraxas, Avery, and Nott even had to pull some strings to dig through classified documents in the ministry, in case their papers had been purposely hidden.
If there's anything worth reporting, it had to be from where his men had to tail the mother and son. He had them swore that until he has made a decision, this conspiracy about his bastard son will never leave their circle.
He picked up one parchment that showed a diagram of the Dagworth-Granger family tree. This was his highest priority of all his orders, and although Lestrange had been successful enough in tracing the line as far back as the 1800s, the results hadn't been any more fruitful than the last.
Tom's glare intensified at the last entry on the tree- Hector Dagworth-Granger. He knew of the name, of course. Though a bit of a recluse, he was a renowned Potion Master that founded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Slughorn had boasted time and again how he was an honorable member in that organization. Tom had also referred to his studies after that one summer in Little Hangleton. Of all the potioneers, he was the one who had the most considerable knowledge on the nature and effects of love potions.
It had been a good start. The boy had introduced himself as Alduin Granger, and after another excursion, they found that the log they had signed their name in their flat as well as his mother's.
Hermione Granger.
Tom knew no one of that name.
He had never heard of that name until now.
That, and the fact that no 'Hermione Granger' was registered in the Dagworth-Granger family tree. Then again, he also can't rule out that Hector had fathered an illegitimate daughter.
His thoughts raced in rapid fire of all the possible scenarios. One of the best he could come up with was that she was a nameless, random romp he had ten years ago whom he (as baffled and infuriated as he was still) had unknowingly impregnated…. whom had also managed to tamper with his memories.
While on the other hand… this Hermione Granger might not be Alduin's real mother at all. That would at least explain how he never knew her, but he'll never settle for any guesswork. Until he has concrete proof of their genealogic ties, there will always be room for doubt.
A knock on the door broke him from his thoughts. When he allowed their entry, Avery came in with a small ornate box in his hands.
"My lord," he bowed in greeting.
"Avery, I trust you didn't come here to disappoint?" Tom's question was actually rhetorical. He made it explicitly clear to him that he wasn't allowed to step a single foot in Malfoy Manor unless he found what he ordered him to find.
"Yes, my lord. I have found it."
With his permission, Jericho Avery stepped forward and set the box before him like an offering.
.
Tom sees the boy again, not inside the wandmaker's shop, but at the park next to their flat building on the other side. Apparently, Mr. Ollivander had to close up shop for a business trip- something about a conference with other wandmakers. So with no one to watch over him, Tom immediately seized the opportunity.
If he had the time, he would tail the boy himself, and from what he's observed so far, either the boy's just sickeningly innocent, or he's superb in acting. It didn't take much for him to have most of the shop owners in Diagon Alley wrapped around his little fingers. However, if there's anything his first encounter with the boy had told him, he was willing to bet on the latter. It's not difficult to guess that the boy's looks played a big factor in that, if not his overall pleasant manners. Tom himself wasn't above using his own physical appearance in getting his way. Especially during his time at Hogwarts. For some reason, learning about that fact made his chest puff up and snort in amusement. The boy was far from a saint… except when in front of his mother.
He took a moment to stare at the young boy that might as well be a carbon copy of himself. Alduin was lying down, asleep, on a grassy slope of the park, a bit farther away from the path. His arms and legs spread out a tad comfortably as he soaked in the sun's rays.
However, it didn't take long for the boy's eyelids to flutter open. As if he felt someone staring at him. Alduin turned his head at his direction and he sat up in one fluid motion.
He smiled congenially, "Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle. Fancy seeing you again."
"Afternoon it is, Mr. Granger," Tom answered dispassionately, "However, whether that afternoon would be good or not remains to be said."
"How fortunate that it's been good for me so far, then," Alduin answered without missing a beat, "Hopefully, the odds would be in your favor as well. You still have a lot of time left, after all."
"Hopefully."
Alduin took his turn to stare at him this time. Despite the small polite smile on his face, Tom could never mistake that certain look that glinted in the boy's equally dark eyes. The boy had the nerve to assess him, sizing him up as if to gauge how much he could do.
He tilted his head curiously at him, like a cat, "May I help you, Mr. Riddle?"
"No," he answered, "I was just passing by. My apologies if I disturbed your sleep."
"That's alright. I wasn't sleeping anyway. I just like bathing out in the sun like this."
"Ahh it is a lovely day for it. And here I thought you preferred running around Diagon Alley and getting into trouble with strangers."
This time, the boy's brows furrowed ever so slightly at the mention of his little slip. The first reaction he's ever shown him that wasn't his polite mask and amusement, "Trouble finds me because they think me defenseless. It's not my problem if they don't stop to think if I have fangs," – he muttered so softly it was almost inaudible, but Tom's ears had caught them and it sent a wave of intrigue and amusement all over him, - "and I like my peace and quiet as much as I like exploring. Don't you, sir?"
"I do like my privacy," Tom acquiesced.
Alduin nodded, satisfied at his answer, before turning to his messenger bag lying beside him. He reached his arm inside, searching for something. Tom took a step closer to get a better look and this time, he was certain the bag was used with an Extension Charm. Possibly even an Undetectable one.
'Fascinating,' Tom couldn't help be impressed. Extension Charms were advanced magic, and as gifted as the boy was for practicing intentional magic at an early age, he highly doubted he had casted that spell himself. That would mean it was casted by his mother instead, and as far as he knew, Extension Charms were strictly subjected to the Ministry of Magic's control. There was even a law that prohibited anyone in using them under private use. That would mean Alduin's mother, Hermione Granger, was not part of the mindless flock.
It seems that the witch might be worth visiting after all.
Finally, the boy took his arm out from the bag and in his hand was a bag of beef jerky.
Tom's brows furrowed slightly, 'Food again?'
"Does your mother not feed you enough?"
The boy shook his head, "On the contrary, my mother's been attentive to my meals lately. This one though, is a gift from a family friend from Italy."
Unsurprisingly, after opening the bag, Alduin held it out to him.
"Would you like some, Mr. Riddle? It's only a tiny bit spicy though."
"No thank you, Mr. Granger."
"Please, call me Alduin, sir. Mr. Granger was my mother's father."
That sentence alone confirmed Tom instantly that Alduin's family name really was from his mother, that he didn't have a father to take a name from. At least, none that he knew of. Therefore, it really has only been him and his mother. Then there's the possibility that witch was from the Dagworth-Granger family line.
"Do you have a habit of refusing gifts, Mr. Riddle?" Alduin continued. "Gifts are given freely, after all."
"Please don't be offended, Alduin. I'm just not hungry at the moment," Tom added with false sincerity, "and I only accept gifts I deem worthwhile, of course."
The boy hummed, "That's a shame. You live to eat, after all." He popped a stick of jerky in his mouth.
"I believe the saying was: 'You eat to live'," Tom corrected, but the boy didn't answer as he continued to chew. In fact, Alduin only smiled at him in response.
That's when Tom saw it.
There, as Alduin continued eating nonchalantly on his bag of jerky, the sun glinted off the silver band on the boy's left middle finger from where his left hand held the bag.
"That's quite the ring you got there, Alduin. May I see it?" Tom blurted.
The boy turned his eyes towards him and waited to swallow the meat he's been chewing before setting the bag on his lap. He lifted his left hand towards his face and examined the ring encircled there. A small smile tugged at his lips.
It was genuine.
"Only if you show me yours, Mr. Riddle," he turned his gaze towards Tom's own ring that was also on his left middle finger.
Reflexively, Tom caressed his ring with his other hand, as if shielding it from the boy's sight, but he caught himself before he could look suspicious and looked down at it as well. The black stone and the gold ring cradling it have never lost its sheen under his care. Ever since acquiring it, Tom had never taken it off, and on the chance that he did, he made sure it was tucked away safely at that hiding place along with his diary.
"Fair enough," he relented and took a couple of steps towards the boy's feet.
He held out his hand, not bothering to take it off. Alduin didn't seem to be bothered and leaned forwards to examine it closely.
"How peculiar," he said, his eyes trailing all that he could see, "and what a curious symbol… Dare I ask, Mr. Riddle, is it your coat of arms?"
Tom couldn't help but snort, no doubt he was referring to the symbol engraved within the stone, "Well, this ring certainly has been in my family for generations. I got it before my uncle passed away."
"Ahh, I apologize."
"No need, Alduin. That was a long time ago. Now, may I see yours?"
The boy casted a glance at his ring one last time before holding up his hand towards him in the way he did. This time, Tom held the boy's fingers to get a closer look, but not close enough to touch the ring itself.
His deep dark eyes drank in every detail and design, down to the way the sun bounced off light from the metal.
"It's beautiful," he said with a hint of true praise this time, because it certainly was.
Alduin's ring was a silver snake with its mouth devouring its own tail. An ouroboros. Its eyes were made of small, precious emeralds, while on its head was a crown of stars. It looked simple enough, but the craftsmanship was top notch. Not only that-
"Thank you, sir," Alduin responded as he carefully retracted his hand back, "My mother gifted it to me on my seventh birthday. She said she had it customed by an artisan in Norway. It's charmed so it can always fit my finger as I grow."
Charmed, yes, but the ring was charmed with more than just that. They were small, and couldn't be seen with the naked eye without at least the help of a jeweler's loupe, but Tom still saw glimpses of them. There were runes carved along the snake's body. Which runes? He couldn't tell. They were too small. If he were to hazard a guess, one them functioned as protection, but Tom couldn't shake the feeling there was something more. If what the boy said was true, then his mother knew what she wanted done when she commissioned that ring.
First the secrecy, then the bag, then the ring… Hermione Granger was definitely no ordinary witch.
"I see," Tom voiced, "Did she also pick the design for it?"
Alduin nodded firmly. His thumb caressed the crowned snake as he said, "Yes, sir. Mother said it was only fitting."
"Fitting?"
"In her own words, she said it's only fitting…" Onyx eyes stared back into equally dark pools, "for someone with ancient blood."
Tom's entire face turned blank the moment Alduin said those words. His back rigid and straight as his gaze didn't falter with the boy's equally blank look. For a moment they just stayed like that. Unrelenting, unflinching, unmoving, unblinking…
Like two snakes crossing each other's paths.
…cautious, waiting, gauging, as if the slightest movement from the other could cause something big to happen.
Then, with a move that surprised the boy, Tom raised his hand and settled it on his head.
Alduin blinked.
"I best be going now, Alduin, as I've said, I was just passing by," Tom said with a practiced smile of his own. "Thank you, by the way, this has been most illuminating. Please, enjoy the rest of your day."
When he ruffled the boy's hair, messing up his combed raven locks, Alduin threw him a glare and swatted his hand away.
Tom snorted; he'd let this one slide.
He didn't wait for his response as he continued down the path, not once looking back.
.
The Dark Lord all but blew off the door to his guest room from its hinges. Vitriol practically bubbled in his veins. His heart drummed in his ears. The darkness within him roared as his eyes bled into a crimson color. His face was absolutely thunderous as he grabbed for the box Avery had left him.
He all but tore the lid open and took out the bowl cushioned in a velvet bedding. It was a white bowl made of porcelain, inscribed with runes, and painted blue with the traditional brush art of ancient China depicting cranes and flowers. The magical artefact was used in wizarding families in Asia, particularly in China, as a paternity and maternity test. This one though, had been in the Avery family for generations.
Tom didn't even bother to take off his coat as he filled the bowl with water.
The use of this artefact was simple. After adding water, the person only needed a piece of the person they wished to do the test on- may it be blood, saliva, hair, or even tears. A corresponding color will change the water in the bowl for each piece. If the two colors mix, then they are biologically, directly related as parent and child, but if the colors don't even touch and remain separated, then they're not.
From his pocket, Tom took out two phials, one containing a long curly brown strand, while the other held three pieces of short black hair. Mulciber was assigned this task, and all it took him was to bump into the witch 'accidentally' to nip a single strand of her hair. It was more than sufficient.
First, he needed to test both mother and son.
He didn't take anymore preamble and dropped the witch's hair on the bowl. Instantly, the blue paint glowed and the water turned into a rich golden color. As if the water turned into liquid gold itself. When he dropped a strand of Alduin's black hair, the water turned into a deep navy blue. Then it swirled and swirled around the bowl as if it had been stirred until eventually, the golden color returned.
Blue and gold mixed together in a harmonious, slow-turning vortex speckled with stars.
Tom swallowed thickly, taking a moment to stare at the colors before finally vanishing the contents and refilling it with water.
He dropped another strand of Alduin's hair.
It was the same deep shade of navy blue that bordered on black.
Tom reached a hand towards his own head.
His hair turned the water as black as tar.
Then it shifted, and swirled again.
Navy blue color trickled from the sides of the bowl.
The water swirled…
…and swirled…
…and swirled…
until finally…
Both blue and black turned together like a slow whirlpool.
They mixed.
Tom's entire body shook as he threw his head back with unfiltered dark laughter.
Down in the depths, reality's a façade.
What we call Death is just a sleep of the gods.
I am very, very pleased with the comments in the last chapter. You all had very good ideas and theories and I happily read all of them. SOME of you actually had a few ideas right- not on the mark but definitely close to the truth.
Obviously, this was my answer to some of those questions… or did I just make you even more confused? Do let me know your thoughts if it enlightened or broke your expectations of what's really going on with Alduin and Hermione!
/
This chapter was meant to establish more on how close the relationship between Alduin and Hermione, and to give them a bit more clues on their backstory before Tom makes his move.
I personally enjoyed writing the interactions between Tom and Alduin.
The Bowl test was actually inspired by an actual method they used to do in ancient China but instead they used blood to mix with the water.
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You are all very beautiful readers! It would be awesome to hear from you!
Stay awesome!
Ciao~!