I am one with the blade I wielded.
My emotions contained- I've shielded.
I've not forgotten the bloodline I lost.
Honor the fallen, for honor never falls.
"Tisfg rea vieng yleref, tye oyu esufre ti. Awht oyu hiws si a darrwe, dan darrwe rea endrae. Utb ta awht soct rea oyu ligliwn ot cerfon?"
"All that is me."
Hermione's eyes opened before she lifted her head back up with a gulping breath. Water splashed all around her and onto the tiles. She took a moment to recollect her thoughts, more than to regain the breath she had held for staying submerged beneath the water for too long. Her visits to that floor of her mind palace remained the same. Nothing has changed. Therefore, Tom Riddle being here was not a mistake.
She felt a shiver wrack up her spine. Not from the waters that once stole her last breath, but from the new question that rocked the foundation of her faculties.
What is Riddle's purpose in all of this?
Her hands swept back her drenched curls away from her face before she held one up before her eyes. Azure flames coated over the skin of her palm and fingers, yet she didn't worry, because they can never burn her. Instead, she remembered how it had burned a man to ashes. Out of desperation, anger, and revenge, but murder still. He was the first, but not the last.
Now in her new life, she has taken many, but has never killed. So long as no one forces her hand, then she wouldn't have to.
A sigh escaped from her lips as she leant back against the tub. Eyes still fixated on the dancing flames on her hand. Alduin told her how he was able to free himself from Riddle's hold, and she felt her chest swell with parental pride once more. Although he wasn't able to manifest the flames itself, Riddle's reaction told her enough how much it hurt him.
That's right. Regardless of his twisted connection between him and Alduin, their bond as mother and son is stronger.
But that still doesn't change the fact that Tom Riddle will be looking for them.
After Knockturn Alley and Malfoy Manor, she's certain that he would be even more determined to find them. If he hasn't already. Which is a bigger problem., because- They. Can't. Go. Anywhere
Her mind continued that train of thought even as she rinsed and changed into more casual clothes. In the comfort and privacy of their Den, she didn't have to wear region and era-appropriate clothing. She's never been one for fashion, but in order to save herself from the headache of weird inquisitive looks from other people, she had to relent and wear dresses and clothing styles she couldn't be bothered with before. Thankfully, her bottomless purse was more than enough for seamstresses and boutique owners to accommodate her with their best customer service.
When she stepped out into the dining room adjoining the kitchen, she caught her son preparing the teacups and snacks on a tray to be taken to their mini-library. Although calling it 'mini' was putting it humbly. Hermione had dedicated an entire room just to fill every wall with books from floor to ceiling, and furnished it with a settee and matching round table and chairs atop a carpet depicting a Celtic design of the ouroboros.
"Don't you think that's enough macarons, Al?" she asked teasingly with a raised brow at the 3-tiered pastry stand full of sandwiches, macarons, cupcakes, berries, scones, and tarts they baked together since morning. Between her own parents, as particular as they were about her oral health, her father had a guilty habit of baking and he was more lenient with her with desserts. Especially if her mother wasn't around.
'Da would've loved Al,' she thought wistfully.
"No," Alduin piped with a pitch in his voice and a blush on his cheeks, embarrassed that he had been caught.
Shaking her head, Hermione waved her hand and a bit more of each pastry were added onto the pile as she strode towards the counter to prepare their tea, much to her son's delight. Beside the teapot was an outdated newspaper she's yet to throw away.
She casted a glance at the bold headline.
MALFOY MANOR ATTACKED
CULPRITS STILL UNKNOWN
It was dated the day after she and Alduin escaped the manor. Despite its partial isolation in Wiltshire, something big of an event like this (especially to one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight) couldn't be missed to the wizarding community. Curiously though, upon reading the article, it mentioned nothing about her or Alduin, nor was there even a hint about other families involved in the incident. She was certain those people who tried to stop her before reaching Riddle were Death Eaters. According to the story Abraxas gave to the press, it was a masked intruder whom appeared out of nowhere and stole artefacts from their treasury- that description wasn't that farfetched though. Except for the thievery part. Although it would be a lie if she said she wasn't curious what artefacts an old family like the Malfoys would have in their house. She wouldn't be surprised if she would feel a dark pulse somewhere hidden either.
'So that's the story they went with,' Hermione scoffed when she read it the first time. They deliberately shrouded the attacker in mystery, thereby raising a bit of alarm with the other old pureblooded families. The current news in the prophet speculated it as an individual who had a vendetta, if not against the Malfoy family alone, then with the rest of the Sacred Twenty-Eight as well. Although, in a way, given her history with them in her past life, that was close to the truth. The other theory was that the attacker was a master thief- and a powerful one at that, considering the destruction they left in their wake.
Oh, and of course, they suspected the culprit to be a man.
Hermione rolled her eyes at that, but it's better for her that way. Let them believe these spun stories.
What's most important however, was that her and Alduin's names weren't mentioned. She has a strong suspicion that was Riddle's doing. If they didn't make up a cover story, everyone would know that Tom had a son out of wedlock, and if this was the time Voldemort still had a stable mind and cared about his reputation, as well as the political climate, he wouldn't want such a truth to come out. Having a bastard son would besmirch that image.
Not that she cared about him, so long as Alduin is kept out of it.
"Ready, sweetie?" she turned her head over her shoulder to see Alduin nod his head enthusiastically.
While her son carried the tray of teacups and pot, Hermione held the heavier pastry stand as they made their way to the mini-library where they would continue his lessons on Ancient Runes and how to formulate basic constructions for simple spells.
Ever since their heartfelt moment following her impromptu rescue of Alduin from the viper pit, she decided to play it safe and stay at home for the meantime. Alduin didn't seem to mind staying at home either as he seemed to have this sense of making up for his mistake. Her son always gave this impression of being a prodigy, and in a way, he was. So the fact that he recognized that he had done something wrong and apologized for it relieved her still, even though it hurt her to see him sad and in pain. For there are some things he needed to learn on his own. She's sure, that this experience had taught him that not everything will always go as planned.
Although the main reason for her decision for homestay was to also reaffirm her connection with her son, another reason was because she needed to sort through her thoughts and review everything she knew in her past life to prepare for their current situation.
Hermione's mind palace is exactly as how she calls it. Beyond her sea of flames was a mental manor where she kept all of her knowledge and memories. Each floor represented important points in her life, and each room was a dedication for every person whom have greatly impacted her life- both the good and the bad. She wasn't bitter to not include those who have also wronged her.
She had constructed that palace during her time of isolation during the war. As a form of exercise to keep her sanity against the chaos that plagued the world. It was a place where she could put those she held important.
For the last few days, when she didn't need to tend to her son, she had retreated to the suite she dedicated to Harry. It had been a while since she visited him- no, she was under no illusion and knew full well that he was nothing more than a ghost she conjured for her selfish comfort and built from all the memories she had of him.
"Hullo, Hermione. You look well. How have you been?" he greeted her with that boyish smile of his.
Even though her heart no longer ached as much as before, seeing her best friend- her brother- always gave her comfort. Even if he's nothing more than just a memory.
There, she would consult with Harry and he would retell her everything he once told her about Voldemort- about Tom Riddle. Beyond the facts they needed during their time for hunting Horcruxes. There had been a point, when he had confided in her about his feelings regarding Voldemort's- Tom Riddle's childhood. Having grown up parentless in a cruel household himself, Harry empathized with the child Tom Riddle.
"I suppose I sympathize with him, 'Mione. I've seen what he's like from Dumbledore's pensieve, but I don't think I'll ever fully understand what he had been through. At least I was lucky enough to have met you, Ron, Hagrid, Sirius, and everybody else. You lot were the closest family I ever had, even more than my own blood relatives. Riddle… he didn't have anything like that. No one gave him the chance, so he couldn't be bothered to look for one himself. I almost felt sorry for him."
It would be a lie if she said she hadn't sympathized with Tom Riddle's story too, enforced with Harry's words. Unfortunately for all of them, the Tom Riddle from her past life was no more and, in his place, a shadow of his former self. Voldemort had been beyond saving, and even when he succeeded in taking Harry away from them- from her, the loss of all his Horcuxes had forced him to sequester himself into solitude. Fueled by the fear of his invulnerability, he delegated a chaotic world to his followers to do as they wish with the condition of him remaining as the sole overlord. For as mad as he had become, Voldemort had still amassed enough fear for even his followers to keep from sniffing the food on their plates without his permission.
The following years after that had been spent on nothing but hiding, traveling, studying, and surviving.
"Mother, you're doing it again," Alduin's careful, almost whispered voice broke the silence of the room.
Spine turned rigid from snapping out of her reverie, heat wafted through her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she smiled apologetically while her hands clutch her skirt from beneath the table. They've been twitching again. Itching to grab her wand from the holster she fashioned across her hip for whenever she didn't fancy wearing a robe or with long sleeves.
"You want to hunt, don't you?" Alduin sets his quill down primly by his open notebook, scribbled with practiced neat script. Anymore practice and his handwriting would turn better than hers.
In the privacy of their home, the term 'hunt' is used, but when in public or when in the company of another, they call it her 'work'. It would save her a lot of questionable looks that way. People would automatically assume she has some form of employment in order to raise her son, and that was more acceptable. Fortunately, Postino and her other associates have chalked it up to illegal magical artefact and potion trading and appraisal. But no one else knows what she really takes on those hunts of hers.
"You have to go, mother."
Alduin understood why she has to do these hunts. Oddly enough, he never asked for the details. As far as she knew, her son was aware he has some sort of affliction and what's needed to stave off his symptoms, but he's never asked the reason why he needed them. Alduin is always curious. So his silence is a bit concerning for her.
Is it because he knew the reason? If so, how did he find out?
The image of more than a dozen shriveled bodies flashed in her head, and her mental-self rushed over to quickly slam and lock the door to that memory in her mind palace.
They can never step into Buenos Aires ever again.
"I know," she relented, "but that's not what I'm concerned about. I can't just cage you here, Al."
His features softened at her words. Even if he says he would be alright with it, it wouldn't be fair for him to stay cooped inside their den while she goes away for hours a day. But danger lurks outside these walls. One that's definitely interested in her son.
Tom Riddle killed his own father. Who's to say he wouldn't do the same for his own son?
Their Den, was actually a flat spelled by a modified Undetectable Extension Charm. In her previous life, she had acquired the magizoologist- Newt Scammander's journals after she found Luna and buried her together with her husband- Rolf Scammander. They were the last friends she saw and died before she eventually followed.
Apart from the detailed descriptions of various magical beasts, she was especially fascinated by his suitcase. Unlike her own beaded bag, Mr. Scammander's housed entire enclosures and habitats for the beasts he studied, essentially making it his personal study on the go. With her travels and increasing collection, it would be less of a hassle if she had something similar. The only difference was that she didn't fancy carrying her home and important collections around for anyone to just stumble in and carry around while she's inside sipping a cup of tea, wholly unaware.
It had been tedious work, forcing her to sacrifice a few days ignoring that hunter's pull, but she had somehow done it. One could say their Den now existed in a sort of pocket dimension where she could install whenever she wanted. The only cost was that she needed a space that's roughly the same size as the Den, hence the need to find a suitable place to rent in. She also still needs to place wards outside the door and windows. Done correctly, anyone who forces their way inside will only see the original, empty flat. The only way inside was to be invited by either her or her son, and the only way in and out is through the door.
Asking someone to watch over Alduin was also out of the question. As close to a family friend as they were with the De Sena couple, she can't risk them knowing the truth of her hunts.
And by Shesha, she really needs to hunt again.
Alduin was left so emotionally exhausted he became hungry afterwards, and as of now, Hermione has nothing she could give to feed him if he ever gets hungry again.
Hermione took a deep breath, "If Tom Riddle finds you again, what would you do?"
The moment of silence that kept him from answering immediately shot an arrow of dread into her.
"Mother doesn't like him, so I shall run and return home-"
"No, Alduin. Not me," she interrupted sternly, "What would you do?"
This time, his answer was immediate, "I will go with him, until you come for me again."
She was grateful for his honesty, but he wasn't happy with his answer.
Whenever she asked him about Riddle, he would always say that there's something that compels him towards him. Although she has a strong theory, she wasn't completely certain.
"Do you want to eat him?" she can't help asking.
Her fingers twitched once more as his face scrunched together in thought.
"I'm not sure yet," he answered truthfully and casually as if there wasn't anything wrong with her question, "but he does have something I'm craving for."
Eyebrows furrowed. Alduin is always eating, but he's never placed any meal in the same category as a craving before.
"What do you mean, Al?"
He raiseed his left hand, and with his right forefinger, caressed the ring on his finger.
Hermione's lips parted at his confession before she felt the first tell-tale signs of an impending migraine.
Seeing that she understood what he meant from her expression, Alduin beamed with his smile wide and hopeful eyes.
"Can I have it, mother?"
It seems that avoiding Riddle is completely unavoidable now.
'The Great Chain in motion beneath the waves of the sea- whom all good things flow. The sweat from your brow is what you reap and sow. Forge your own fortune from salt and from sand. No good or evil, only man,' while he sings the lyrics in his head, Alduin hummed merrily as he slips boxes of wands into their respective shelves.
After much convincing, his mother finally relented into going out to hunt, but not after sitting him down with a lengthy talk. She had also walked him to Ollivander's instead of stopping at the fountain like they usually did. Although his mother seemed just as delighted to see the wandmaker back safely from his travel, Alduin also knew she went out of her way to walk him to the shop herself simply because she was just worried about him. As much as he likes her attention, sometimes she just fusses too much. He understood that his mother doesn't like Mr. Riddle, but was this amount of precaution necessary? He already swore to be careful this time. She had even given him more magical items to protect himself with.
It's almost as if his mother is scared… but that couldn't be. His mother is brave; like a lioness. Is it fear brought on by anxiety over his well-being? Probably. Is it because of Mr. Riddle?
But what is there to be afraid about a broken soul?
In his opinion, he finds it curious and interesting how a person could still function the way they do. Not to mention he still finds Mr. Riddle's song to be really funny despite their previous encounter.
"I have finished sorting the wands into their shelves, Mr. Ollivander. Is there anything else I could help you with?" Alduin said as he approached the front desk where the wandmaker was hunched over looking through his ledgers. Not wanting to bore him since he was still buzzing with energy about his travel, Mr. Ollivander tasked him to put the wands he had yet to sort on the shelves. All the while he merrily regaled his time at the Wandmaker's Convention he had attended in Wales.
"Ah already? Thank you very much, m'boy," Mr. Ollivander smiled behind his spectacles, "Helping me and listening to my tirade about wands for the last few hours."
Something gentler touched Alduin's lips, "Not at all, sir. I find that it is always fascinating to learn new things, especially on something one is passionate about. I would be just as enthused as you, Mr. Ollivander. In fact, I'm quite curious if you would also dwell with Dual-Core wand experiments."
"Ah yes, but it is still just a theory. I must say there's not enough trials to support it for me to have a hand on it myself."
"Well, if ever you change your mind, would it be alright to ask you to share to me what you have found?"
The older man beamed with a toothy grin, "Why certainly!"
"Do you think it would really improve the power of a person though? If their wand has two cores?"
"Ah I can't say for certain, Alduin. As I said, there's not enough to support that theory. But if we're talking about powerful wands then nothing beats the Elder Wand, you know," he let out a chuckle.
Alduin cocked his head to the side curiously, "The Elder Wand, sir?"
Mr. Ollivander looked at him inquisitively, "Surely your mother has told you about The Tale of the Three Brothers? It's quite the common story for children."
He nodded his head in confirmation, and couldn't help the grin from breaking through his polite façade. Yes, his mother had told him about that story before. The story about three brothers tricking Death-personified and gave them three powerful magical items as reward only to be claimed again at the end.
It was the funniest story he's ever heard.
The very idea of Death being personified and becoming its master through three measly, earthly objects is absolutely hilarious.
When his mother told him some people actually believed the myth and sought to claim to be the Master of Death, Alduin laughed even more. It was honestly the hardest he's ever laughed yet.
"Oh come now, Alduin, I see what you're doing," Alduin blinked curiously at the wandmaker's mischievous grin, "You're trying to wheedle me into telling you which wands is the strongest of them all aren't you? So you would know which to get when it's time for you to go to Hogwarts!"
Onyx pools widened in genuine surprise. Well, he certainly didn't expect Mr. Ollivander to come to that conclusion. He couldn't help but chuckle.
The wandmaker chuckled back, mistaking his surprise for having been caught his scheme, before raising a finger knowingly, "You're quite the ambitious young lad, Alduin, and I understand that you are excited, but I should tell you that a wand chooses the wizard. Not the other way around. Your rightful wand is out there somewhere and it would make me incredibly happy if it happens to be here in this very shop."
Mr. Ollivander's smile was bright as he imagines Alduin acquiring his wand- a wand he had made himself.
"You wouldn't happen to have already gotten your Hogwarts letter, would you?"
Alduin shook his head, "No, sir. I haven't."
"Ah not to worry, m'boy! I'm sure it won't be long now," Alduin smiles congenially at his wink.
Hogwarts.
He's heard of it, of course. As well as Beauxbatons, Durmstrang, Koldovstoretz, Ilvermorny, Castelobruxo, and more. From the books he read and from the people who were proud to share about their Alma Mater during their travels, but he wasn't interested enough to ask his mother whether he would be attending one. She never mentioned it nor did he ever ask.
Come to think of it, when he had asked his mother if she went to a wizarding school (although he had already suspected that she did, considering she's a muggleborn and there must have been some way she had learned about magic), his mother only confessed that she did attend one; but when he had asked which school it was, she only shook her head at him sadly and said- 'That school doesn't exist anymore.'
What did she mean by that?
After Mr. Ollivander relented into letting him stock the shelves with a few more of his finished wands, he finally let Alduin go in his desire to get to the bookstores after being absent for a while. But not before promising to return to the wand shop shortly after making a quick stop.
Alduin entered the brightly colored sweet shop and relished the heat mixed the conflagration of scents coming from freshly baked pastries and sweets.
"Alduin!"
He smiled widely at the couple behind the counter.
"Hullo Mr. and Mrs. Sugarplum," he greeted with a cordial dip of his head.
"Oh Alduin! It's always so good to see you!" Mrs. Sugarplum gushed.
"And you as well, Mrs. Sugarplum. Those earrings really bring out your eyes, and I like what you've done with your hair. It certainly suits you," the compliments slipped out of his tongue like smooth butter.
"Oh ever the sweet-talker you are," the woman giggled behind her hand as she brushed an invisible lock away with the other, "Thank you, love, you're very sweet, but trust me when I say you wouldn't need to say a single word. You'll have ladies throwing themselves at your feet when you grow up."
He blinked as he continued to smile politely. It wasn't the first time someone commented about his looks. He had even overheard someone telling his mother that he would be 'Leaving a trail of broken hearts' in the future. Which he didn't understand. How could his physical appearance break hearts? He's pretty sure the person would die if he rips their heart out of their chests before he could break it. He should probably ask his mother.
"Stop teasing the boy, Miriam. You've already fawned over the boy to put those ladies to shame," Mr. Sugarplum teased his wife with a wink, earning him a giggle and a playful slap, before turning to Alduin. His grin was just as wide, "Happy to see you again, Alduin. How's your mother?"
"You too, Mr. Sugarplum. My mother is doing well, thank you for asking."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries, the couple finally asked what he wanted to which he ordered half a dozen pumpkin pasties and a couple of chocolate frogs. The pasties would be for Mr. Ollivander as a Welcome Back Gift. His mother told him to also treat kindly those who have treated him kindly, after all. Despite how easy the wandmaker fell to his smile, he could tell Mr. Ollivander genuinely cared about his wellbeing and wished well for his mother, and Alduin respected him for being a master of his craft and imparting his knowledge to him willingly. He deserved to be rewarded for his courtesy.
"Oh Mr. Sugarplum, you shouldn't have," Alduin grinned widely when he noticed him take out another bag to put a couple of cauldron cakes there.
"Anything for my number one customer," the older man winked as he closed the bag before he could protest any further. He also made sure to grab the ones that were fresh from the oven.
"That'll be four galleons and twelve sickles for the frogs and pasties, love," Mrs. Sugarplum winked at him as well. Completely on board at her husband's actions.
Not minding the freebies himself, Alduin quickly reached for his bag. However, just as he was about to take out the required money, somebody came in to his line of sight. Alduin felt the air shift in the movement before he hears the sound of coins being placed on the countertop.
"Here."
Alduin didn't need to look to know who owned that familiar deep voice, but he has to. Onyx eyes met equally dark pools.
"There you are, Alduin."
"Hullo, Mr. Riddle," he greeted back softly for only him to hear.
They stared at each other for moments. Faces betrayed nothing about their feelings except for the curious glint in their black eyes. Mr. Riddle looked as fine and impassive as the first time they met. Either he had recovered well or he wasn't as affected from their last skirmish as he thought. Alduin broke the contact to look down at his left arm covered by the long sleeves of his high-collared shirt. The black, lapeled, hoodless cloak he's wearing laid heavy across his shoulders. He can't help but notice he and Mr. Riddle have the same taste in clothing.
Carefully, he focused his hearing to that invisible tune only he can hear.
A deep and sonorous melody suddenly breaks into a screeching squeak as if the cello player stumbled, making them slip his bow across the strings.
Alduin sputtered a laughter before he even thought to stop himself, his hands shot up his mouth to try to muffle them as his eyes curled into crescents from mirth. The space between Mr. Riddle's brows furrowed at his slip, and he supposes it's a bit rude to suddenly be laughed at for no reason.
"Sorry," he apologized with a grin still tugging at his lips.
A resounding cough forced them to look back at the couple behind the counter.
"Here you are, Alduin," Mr. Sugarplum slid the paper bag across the surface with a smile towards Alduin and a quizzical look at Mr. Riddle. Meanwhile his wife didn't bother to be discreet in her scrutiny. Her eyes shifted back and forth between the two of them until her eyes widened as if a metaphorical lightbulb lit up atop her head.
"Thank you, sir. Have a nice day," he smiled politely before grabbing the bag and make his way towards the door, wanting to get away from the sudden awkward atmosphere.
Alduin shifted the bag in his hold to reach for the knob but another, much larger, hand took hold of it before him. He didn't need to look up as Mr. Riddle opened the door, letting him go out first.
"Thank you," he mumbled.
Back in the streets of Diagon Alley, Alduin's eyes remained looking forward. His hearing could pick up the soft sound of another set of feet. Mr. Riddle kept pace with him despite his longer legs, following his lead whilst remaining at the very edge of his periphery. Alduin kept his focus on these as he ignored the people milling about the Alley stopping and staring at the two of them. Some even did a double take.
'How unsubtle of him.'
When the wand shop finally came into view, Alduin turned on his heel to look up the tall man. Mr. Riddle was much taller than his mother, probably by a full head, and he briefly wondered if he would also be as tall as him one day.
"May I help you, Mr. Riddle?"
"A talk, if you are amenable to it," his voice and expression remained passive, almost as cordial as his, but that did not hide the demand hidden by his veneer of suggestion.
"That depends whether you would try to invade my mind again."
One of Mr. Riddle's brows arched up at his frankness, "You know Legilimens."
"My mother taught me many things."
"So it would appear," there was a slight hum in his voice, "Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. Why would I want to do that which I obviously proved unsuccessful the first time?"
.
"Mother, what happened to that man who broke his soul? After he broke it to the point there's hardly anything left."
"He went insane, Al. Both in mind and magic. He became nothing more than a shell of his former self."
.
At the most opportune time, Alduin's stomach grumbled loudly, causing heat to creep up his cheeks in embarrassment despite himself.
"Lunch it is then?" Mr. Riddle's brow rose again and all he could do was nod in agreement.
"I'll just stop by Mr. Ollivander's first."
He went in and out of the shop as quick as he can. Although the wandmaker had to be convinced once more to accept his present. His humility only earned him more points in his book. Mr. Ollivander finally let him go with a bid farewell and a favor to extend his thanks to his mother.
Mr. Riddle waited patiently for him outside the shop, and when it seemed that neither of them wanted to initiate conversation, he cocked his head to the side like a cat. Alduin took this as his cue to lead the way, feeling a little elated that he gets to choose where to eat. Mr. Riddle walked into step beside him at an amiable distance but not far enough to count them as strangers.
.
They ate in silence for the most part. Like that time they ate at the Malfoy Manor before chaos broke.
Alduin led him to a humble restaurant, or more aptly- a hole in the wall, a place he and his mother had eaten at before. If Mr. Riddle noticed how he chose the booth beside the largest window, closest to the door, where they can easily be seen, he made no mention.
"May I ask, Mr. Riddle, how Nagini is faring?" he asked as they were halfway done with their meal.
Mr. Riddle stared at him for moments. His bottomless eyes piercing him to where he sat. His mother told him to never show fear in his face, no matter what the man says. So he stares back with as much curiosity and innocence he can muster, drawing from his genuine concern over the well-mannered serpent who called his mother- Honorable and him- Powerful.
"She is doing well," Mr. Riddle answered, "You seem to have taken quite a liking to her, and it seemed that she favors you back."
"Nagini is courteous, sir. I will always think favorably to those who have good manners."
"How virtuous of you."
"Do you follow current events, sir?"
"Religiously."
"Then may I ask your opinion on the attack at Malfoy Manor? I'm not very familiar with the Malfoys, but I have met Mrs. Malfoy and she was kind enough to buy me bows for my violin. Can you tell me how they are faring?"
Mr. Riddle's stare wasn't as long as his passive façade broke with a huff of amusement and tilt at the corner of his lips. If Alduin had to be perfectly honest, he has a level of appreciation towards Mr. Riddle in the manner of conversing with him. Apart from his mother, he could only count people he knew who can talk in subtlety in one hand. He found such conversations more stimulating. Almost like a game of puzzle, except with words, and the pieces are those which he can find between the words. And unlike an actual puzzle game, one loses when they couldn't keep up or understand what's really being said.
Like the dragons his mother told him about. Fictious beasts interpreted by a muggle author. Just as they were notorious for their destructive ferocity, they have a love of speaking in metaphors, riddles, and tongues. Speaking in conversations needed to be deciphered spilled by their forked tongues.
"What led you to believe I would know that?" he tested.
"Because a snake ate a peacock and lives within its walls," his casual answer slipped from his lips before he took another bite off his food.
"They are well," Mr. Riddle answered indulgingly, "Shaken, but well. As how would anyone react to having their home invaded. Fortunately, their son was away with relatives so he was safe from the attack. Much to his parents' relief."
"That is fortunate. It wouldn't do to have a child getting involved. I couldn't imagine what might happen if he somehow found himself in the middle of the crossfire. I'd wager his mother would be furious if anything happens."
"That would be his fault for coming near the trouble instead of avoiding it."
Alduin wet his lips, eyes hardened at his insinuation and for remembering what had happened that night that made him snap, "At least the thief came and go without taking a life. Whatever they stole must've had more value than anything else in the manor."
"Are you defending a thief, Alduin?"
"I am simply looking at the bright side of the outcome, sir. It's all a manner of perspective."
"Well, either way, the Aurors are trying their best in their investigation. Though I would think the thief would've escaped the country already for offending someone so powerful, wouldn't you think so too?"
"Perhaps. That is the most logical reason to avoid getting caught, after all."
"But hypothetically, what if they didn't? Run away that is."
"Then I suppose that means they still have an objective they still need to achieve. Another valuable artefact to steal, perhaps?"
"Perhaps. Would they risk another excursion? They might end up in a viper's nest this time. A snake would not take thievery as kindly as a peacock."
"Who could say?" Alduin shrugged nonchalantly, "If this thief is as powerful and amazing as they say, then could it be plausible they wanted to get caught in the first place?"
"They ought to learn to have some self-preservation if they value their life."
"That would imply the thief would be in harm's way."
"Isn't that to be expected?"
"Well, there's this speculation that the thief was actually someone who had been wronged and their attack was just an act of vindication."
"And you believe that?"
"That would explain their, as you alluded- 'lack of self-preservation'. If that were true and the magnitude of their wake was not exaggerated, then it would be best for those people whom have wronged the thief to practice caution. Within the level of walking on thin ice over a freezing lake- kind of caution."
Mr. Riddle almost laughed. Almost, "Surely, you can't expect the serpent to not retaliate and hunt them back? A snake would never harm another unless they try to hurt it first."
"True, but a snake doesn't hunt like a lion. It prefers to lie in wait and attacks when the opportune time comes. Either they hold on and never let go, or let their prey succumb to their venom with a slow death. Even I know of that, sir," Alduin stared unblinkingly at the older man. His silence being the only confirmation that his message had been clearly received and understood, "Why are you here, Mr. Riddle?"
"Is it not a father's right to spend time with his son?" Mr. Riddle said as if it was the most obvious answer in the world and he was the odd one to not realize it.
His answer however, only made Alduin rear his head back as his brows furrowed deeply. Before he could respond however, a waitress came by to ask if they would like to order something else.
"No, thank you," Alduin and Mr. Riddle said in perfect unison, startling the waitress and, apparently, the other diners who have been glancing towards them every now and then since they entered the restaurant.
The waitress blinked out of her stupor for a time and politely left them be with an amused smile on her lips as if she found the two of them fascinating. That didn't escape Tom and Alduin's notice however, as they returned to silently finish their meal.
.
No words could describe the level of worry and anxiety Hermione has over her son the second she parted from him at Ollivander's.
Part of her berated herself for relenting in the first place.
She turned on her heel, leaving behind her latest hunt in the humble cottage just seconds before the witch's relatives could find their cold, lifeless body, and apparated at the apparition point in front of Diagon Alley.
She told Alduin that she would be coming home very early and knew her son should be waiting for her there already. However, when her eyes fell on her cub sitting at his usual place at the edge of the fountain, her body froze and she had to muster everything in her willpower to not fire her wand at the man sitting beside him.
Tom Riddle was talking with her son. All the while his hands were pointing and motioning at the fountain behind them. And her son, her Alduin, was nodding along eagerly as if the man before him didn't hold him at wandpoint a few days ago.
When Alduin said he was still interested with Riddle, she was more than ready to pack up for and leave for another country. Hunts be damned, she'll find a way to manage that later.
But her son just had to say he was craving…
And to be perfectly honest, that was more cause for concern than whatever Riddle can threaten them with. She doubted even he would be able to do anything to save himself if he had been there in Buenos Aires.
Hermione closed her eyes and took deep long breaths. She has to trust Alduin. All she has are theories and she knew her son knew more even though he couldn't fully explain it himself. She had to remind herself that despite how much she loved him and treated him as the child he was, he wasn't born for no reason.
Although she would be lying if she said Alduin's apparent lack of concern about the danger that was Tom Riddle did not frustrate her. Her son had always been fearless. Even when he faced a horned serpent for the first time, he merely talked to it as if it were an old friend. The only time she had seen him afraid of something was when he thought he had ruined her soulsong.
She didn't like this. Not. One. Bit.
She could only hope whatever Alduin's interest in Riddle wouldn't last long. If things were only different, then Riddle and her son wouldn't have met in the first place.
Hermione stopped walking closer to the pair when Alduin's head suddenly turned towards her as if he could sense her. His polite façade broke into a huge, excited grin as he hurriedly stood up and practically ran towards her.
"Mother!" he greeted her with a hug at her midsection.
Her eyes made a quick scan over his features and after making sure not a hair on his head was out of place, she let her inhibitions slide to hug him back and kiss him on the forehead. Immense relief washed away some of her worry.
"I'm glad you're alright," she whispered to his ear.
"Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Alduin smiled up at her innocently. Then he turned, "Thank you for keeping me company, Mr. Riddle."
Hermioned felt herself swallow a lump in her throat before finally meeting the gaze of the man who's said to be the darkest wizard of all time.
Riddle cocked his head to the side at Alduin, "Of course, Alduin. It wouldn't do to leave you on your own unprotected."
His cold eyes turned to her own at those last words and Hermione felt every nerve ending in her to ready for battle. She had fought in the war, drowned, and faced dangers no one could even comprehend; but there's just something about Tom Riddle that made her raise her hackles as if she would be facing her last battle.
"Mother, don't be rude," Alduin nudged, breaking her from her stupor.
For a brief moment, Hermione shot him a disbelieved look before willing herself to rein in her reservations. Her face was surely one of distrust as she said begrudgingly, "Thank you, Mr. Riddle."
"Of course," he answered smoothly, "He is my son, after all."
Hermione felt her fists tighten beneath the long sleeves of her robe. Her nostrils flared at his insinuation. The way he said that sentence didn't sit right with her- at all.
"Well, we should be going home now. Let's go, Alduin."
Without waiting for a response, Hermione marched her way back to their Den, only seeing her son wave and bid goodbye to the man from her periphery before falling into step beside her. Once inside the safety of their home, Hermione couldn't wait any longer to ask.
"What did he say to you, Al?" she asked softly.
No matter how curious or interested or whatever hidden agenda her son's subconscious has for Tom Riddle, the man is still extremely dangerous. She couldn't stress that enough when she had sat him down on all the warnings and flags he had to watch out, knowing that interaction between the two would be unavoidable. All she could do was to make sure Riddle wouldn't get the upper hand.
She may be a lioness, but she can play the snake's game too.
"He said he just wanted to get to know his son," Alduin answered as clearly as he can.
Based on the expressions on their faces, neither mother nor son believed a single word of it.
Whose is the house of honor?
For I am not its host.
I know no code of honor,
For I am nothing but its ghost.
Alright now who wants to take a guess on what Tom's trying to pull here? I'm pretty sure most of us also wouldn't buy to his act of being a 'responsible father' here.
Sorry no update last week. I had midterms.
The dragons mentioned in this chapter are in reference to the dragons of Silmarillion/Lord of the Rings. I thought it's a good representation of Alduin for a having a lioness for a mother and a snake for a father. Plus, there's that reference to Alduin's name from Skyrim- which is a dragon.
Thank you all so much for reading this far! Most of you have expressed how much you liked Alduin's character and I am very happy to know that. Obviously, he plays an integral part in this story and is a very important piece in the puzzle of this fic's mystery.
Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it!
You're all beautiful readers!
Ciao~!