Congratulations to those who correctly guessed that Hermione has been "hunting" people on the verge of death and that Alduin has been eating souls!
Now that puzzle piece is out, the next question is- WHY? Yes, there is a real reason why he has to eat souls. Does anyone would like to take a guess?
In my veins,
No hunger courses stronger than I.
Revitalize the beast before I die.
Alduin let out a groan as he threw his head back. Dressed in his house clothes, his body bounced a bit before settling into the lush cushions of the settee in their home library. The book he had been reading rested over his stomach. For a moment, he stared up at the high ceiling where an upside-down, translucent tree stood that functioned like a chandelier. Except it would light up according to the will of the current occupant in the room; its long roots that crawled all over the ceiling and walls, and branches filled with leaves and bulbous fruits, ensured to provide light for its readers.
He was alone at home today. He's starting to become sleepier as the days were getting colder. It's always been like that and not once has he ever found it weird. Probably more like a peculiar quirk. Just this morning, he woke up a little later than usual and nearly skipped breakfast. While he and his mother were eating pancakes, a letter flew onto their table from the fireplace in a burst of blue flames. Due to their travels, it would be hard pressed for them to have a permanent residence. Especially since they live in an enchanted home his mother ensured not even owls could find. She also found it to be troublesome to just send letters to associates about their current addresses. So instead, his mother devised special pieces of parchment and envelopes that would always end up in their home by simply burning the letter once finished. This special stationery, she gave only to her chosen associates.
This occurrence happen often, and usually it was business related whereby his mother would stay in her laboratory, or in that one room in The Den where he was explicitly told to never go inside unless she says so. For that was where she 'tames' dark artifacts.
This time, however, his mother didn't go to those rooms and instead changed into clothes and a hooded cloak that covers all of her. Every now and again, his mother would leave The Den- not to hunt, but to meet with her contacts around the world. Business meetings, she explained. She taught him the importance of keeping tabs with people. For no matter how powerful an individual is, they cannot navigate the world on their own.
As his mother turned the dial on their door and slid the doorknob from left to right; Alduin almost asked her to take him with her when he saw the bright Egyptian sun.
Alas, he did not ask, and Alduin sequestered himself to their library. Intent to just spend the rest of the day reading while popping chocolate bonbons as a snack. However, three hours or so of reading later, the words in the book started to fail him.
As he continued to stare up at the ceiling, thinking of nothing particular, his hand reached out to pick another bonbon. When he realized that his efforts had been for naught, he pouted at the empty bowl where he caught the sight of the ouroboros tapestry hanging above in front of the chairs and settee.
Unlike the carpet, which featured a celtic serpentine symbol, the image of the world serpent on the tapestry looked more like a dragon. Its wings were open while its claws held the earth, and its tail (as usual) trapped between its jaws.
It wouldn't be far-fetched to say his mother has a little obsession with the ouroboros imagery. Every part of The Den has at least one or two images or decoration depicting the serpent. She had even named him after it.
Alduin opened his mouth and a string of hisses spilled out naturally. His name had a peculiar translation when spoken in parseltongue. In his innate knowledge of the snake language, Alduin means 'World Eater'. When he had asked his mother about it, she just smiled indulgently and explained to him why the ouroboros mattered so much to her.
She didn't exactly answer his question
The icon of eternity, life, death, and rebirth. It is because of this knowledge his mother imparted in him that allowed him to understand these complexities even at such an early age. Which then led him to believe that the story of the Deathly Hallows was the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.
Death is eternal. Therefore, Death-personified is not real, and cannot be lorded over. His mother said so.
She also said that even though he doesn't fully understand all of her words yet, he would someday soon. Although he's more curious as to why his mother's smile was sad when she said them.
Alduin allowed his eyes to trace the dragon's design. Not that he minded his mother's penchant. He himself has a liking towards snakes and dragons. Especially the serpentine dragons that lived in the east. There's also the story of the World Serpent in muggle Norse Mythology. Jormungandr. Midgardsormr. Sometimes he wondered if such a creature truly existed.
But his mother said such gods don't exist.
"HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT THAT THING IS?!"
His brows creased before finally sitting himself back up. The words of the old woman from the circus were like nails on a chalkboard to his ears. His mother comforted him, of course, when they got home; and she had told him to forget it as they were just ramblings of a senile old woman.
Still…
For whatever reason, his mother wasn't able to fully comfort him and something ugly would coil and churn inside his stomach just thinking about it.
He turned to the windows partially covered by curtains and thought of an idea to quench his current lethargy. His mother said she'll be coming home late anyway.
After changing into a set of warmer clothes, Alduin closed the door of their home with a faint click. The multitudes of locks and wards automatically sealed the room once his hand let go of the knob.
He stepped out into the plaza where the fountain was, filled with the usual crowd of passing wizards and witches. The snow had yet to fall, but the air has certainly become chillier as of late. It's not that he can't help dozing off. Alduin can go about his day normally during the middle of winter as he would during the summer. However, if the opportunity arises, he would gladly stay in his pajamas, wrap himself in his warmest blanket like a cocoon, and sleep the rest of the cold on his soft, comfortable bed. Preferably, after a mug of hot cocoa.
Alduin turned on his heel and went to the street leading to a dead end. He found the entranceway to the circus, but at this time, the statues guarding the enchanted brick wall were silent and unmoving. The circus announced it would be staying in London for a whole month, and will be performing a few times per week. Today, was not one of those times.
'So… how do I get in?' Alduin wondered, finger pressed to his chin and a tilt of his head.
He pressed a hand on the cold wall, the bricks rough against his smooth palm. Yet something faint was also there. Like an extremely thin veil was curtained over it.
"Maybe I could…"
Alduin breathed deeply; his sight focused on his pressed hand. In his mind's eye, a silent cloud swirled from him and focused on an acute point. He let that cloud swirl before him into a ball and let it sink into the veil. He's seen his mother perform magic without wands numerous times, and she told him that it took extreme discipline and control to do so. Sometimes, she would only need to look at something. Yet another reason he admired his mother so much, and it brings him immense joy to see the proud smile on her face whenever he was able to do wandless magic as well.
A short burst, like an electric shock jolted Alduin for a moment. He shook his head and pressed his palm flatly against the brick once more. His fingers spread a tad bit. He whispered to himself, "Again."
Of course, because of its difficulty, it isn't done without practice.
Alduin wasn't sure how long he stood there, refocusing his magic again and again. Only for each time, it would break his concentration like a popped bubble.
"You're using too much."
The young ravenhead snapped his eyes open, having only realized that he had closed them. He turned his head over his shoulder, unsurprised to see his sire standing there at the entrance of the alley. Without removing his hand on the wall, Alduin blinked his curious eyes at his sire, prompting him to continue.
Mr. Riddle approached him with confident strides. At this point, he wasn't surprised anymore at the fact that the man always seemed to know where he was and pops out anytime at his convenience.
"When it comes to wards and enchantments; usually, what you are doing is enough. However, for an intricate spell such as this, the best method is to search for a weak point in the veil and strike there," he continued once he was beside him. Mr. Riddle teaching him about magic isn't something new. During their lunches, it was usually the topic of discussion unless he would squeeze in a question about him and his mother. Alduin has read every book he had recommended him, and he liked to believe he surprises his sire every time he came back and was able to answer all of his questions.
Mr. Riddle and his mother were similar in that regard. In that they have the same air about them. Both thrived in the teachings of magic and its complexities, and were willing to share their knowledge with him. Alduin was actually surprised to learn about this scholarly side of Mr. Riddle. His mother, naturally, he didn't question. She taught him everything from walking to playing the piano. He didn't expect his sire to share his knowledge.
Then again, his mother did tell him never to look a gift horse in the mouth. So he'll gladly accept these free lessons. Especially since Mr. Riddle has a similar yet unique perspective on magic as his mother.
"Describe to me what you have been doing," Mr. Riddle continued.
Alduin blinked up at him, "I'm concentrating my magic in one point to break the spell."
His mother said it was one of the basics and easiest way of breaking wards. Unfortunately, ordinary wizards and witches don't have high enough magical perception to do so, but on the chance they do, they were required to have a level of control over their own magic- the 'Raw' form of magic, as his mother would say. For sadly, wizards and witches today have grown used to the given spells and incantations to bother tapping into what lies underneath.
Alduin, of course, had no such problems in his magical perception.
"While you understand the principle correctly, there is the matter of consideration of the kind of enchantment you're working on. Can you guess the purpose for this ward that's been set up?" Mr. Riddle asked, his tone akin to a professor would be to a student.
"I'm guessing… since this is an enchanted entranceway from the start, the ward is set up to prevent people from passing through."
"That is correct," he nodded satisfyingly, "Now the next is to determine its level of strength- and I do not mean the capability of the caster to create such a strong ward- I meant in conjunction with its purpose. Since this is one of the available entrances and exits, we can assume it is used to ward off muggles as well as magic folk. And knowing the magical creatures kept on the other side, it should work as a barrier preventing them from getting out easily as well. For complex wards like this, the method of choice is to find the anchor points."
Ahh, he gets it. So basically, Alduin needed to find the metaphorical support beams of the invisible framework to bring it all down instead of metaphorically tossing balls of explosives at it like what he had been doing earlier.
With renewed concentration and the feel of expectant eyes on him, Alduin did as intend. Instead of focusing his magic, he let it spread over the brick wall, sending out waves in spurts. In his head he imagined a sonar bleeping emptily until he found points across the veil of magic where the spell is mostly concentrated.
He discovered three across the wall, so he concentrated his magic there. Hitting the points till they become nothing more than holes.
Alduin let go of the brick wall, but when he opened his eyes, he frowned.
"You missed one," Mr. Riddle said, and with his finger, he tapped on a random brick. The entire wall sheened for a moment. Thanks to Alduin's magical perception, he knew then that single touch completely broke the ward. He felt it like a curtain was pulled off its brackets and faded as it fell on his feet.
Alduin pouted.
"Considering the type of layered warding they've done, I already expected you wouldn't be able to get them all at once," his sire looked down at him, "Then again, hardly any other wizard or witch nowadays can do even the first step of what you just did. If this was a test, I'd give you a grade of Exceeds Expectations."
The young ravenhead reared his head back at that. His eyebrows raised as he blinked up at his sire owlishly.
"Mr. Riddle… did you hit your head?"
It was Mr. Riddle's turn to blink.
"No."
"Are you sure? Or maybe you ate something weird? Mother always said to take measures as soon as possible if you feel ill after eating. Especially if it's a magical food."
"Thank you for the advice, Alduin, but I assure you I'm alright. More importantly," he gestured to the wall, "shouldn't we be going?"
"You're coming too? Why?"
"Why not?"
"Because I can't find a reason why," Alduin answered directly. He was in no mood to play with his words today.
Mr. Riddle cocked his head at him like a cat, seemingly perplexed at his forward behavior, "That old hag from the circus called my son something inappropriate. Isn't it only fair to return to address such rudeness? You're here for the same reason, aren't you?"
He did not miss the way his sire emphasized the word he's sensitive to.
Shaking his head, Alduin stepped through the brick wall and into the familiar plaza. The numerous stalls still stood at the places they had been on their opening night but they were devoid of their keepers and display of prizes. His sire followed just a step behind him. The silent circus venue felt a little foreign to Alduin. He usually doesn't like loud things and crowds, but if there's an event or festival happening, he believed it should be lively.
With Mr. Riddle falling into step with him, Alduin approached the trailer area where people were milling about even from a distance.
"You two! How did you get in here?!" cried out one of the circus crew when they neared.
It didn't take long for other members to gather around and berate them along the same lines. Though most were wondering how they got in in the first place. Nevertheless, Alduin and Tom seemed unfazed despite the onslaught. At this point, Alduin had already plastered on a polite, patient smile on his face as he waited for the people to catch their breath so he could explain. His sire, on the other hand, remained quiet with an aloof expression as he let his son break the ice.
"Oh my!"
Pushing their way through the throng of people; it was Miss Donna, the female singer Alduin first met after the show.
"Hello Miss Donna," Alduin greeted, grinning wide, "I'm glad to see you in good health. Do you perchance remember me?"
"Thank you, Alduin," the singer greeted back with an equally delighted smile. Of course, how could she forget such a charming boy who praised her singing? Usually, she would get such praises from adults so it was definitely a surprise to receive it from someone so young who also clearly appreciated music in its artform. "Although I'm glad to see you again too, may I ask- how did you-"
A deliberate cough interrupted her question.
"Excuse me, Miss Donna, was it?" Mr. Riddle introduced with his hand outstretched for a shake. His small, practiced smile graced his lips, "My name is Tom Riddle, Alduin's father. It's a pleasure to meet your acquaintance."
A dab of blush colored the singer's cheek as she accepted his handshake, "O-Oh, pleased to meet you, Mr. Riddle."
Seeing the casual exchange between them, Miss Donna signaled to the others that she would take it from here and her circus family reluctantly relented.
"Do excuse our sudden appearance but my son and I could not wait any longer. I'm afraid the events of our last visit had still left us quite… upset. We came here in hopes of finding peace over the misunderstanding."
The singer's eyes widened in understanding, "O-Oh of course! I completely understand and I do apologize for what happened. But if you're asking to meet the Madam, I'm afraid that's not possible. The Madam had passed away so please let me apologize for causing such a scene on her behalf."
Miss Donna even bowed her head to them to further show her sincerity, but despite this, Alduin and his sire stood silent in concealed surprise as they processed the information given to them.
"The old woman who called my son a thing- this Madam you're calling- she's dead?" Mr. Riddle voiced.
She visibly winced, "Yes, I'm afraid she died in her sleep. We found out this morning when one of us fetched her from her trailer when she was late to breakfast. Our healer confirmed that she died peacefully during the night."
A moment of silence passed between them.
"I'm sorry," Alduin said.
"We offer our condolences," Mr. Riddle added.
At this, the singer finally raised her head. There was a sad smile on her face as she shook her head, "Thank you but please don't think much of it. All of us here in our circus family had known this day would come soon, so we've long since prepared ourselves already. We had just contacted her family and we're now securing a trip to Belarus so we can bury her there in her homeland."
"Then we seemed to have come at the wrong time," said the older ravenhead, "We apologize for suddenly barging in your time of grief."
"Yes, we're sorry," Alduin added, riding along his sire's lead.
It was really unfortunate. He was hoping to ask the old woman what she meant by what she accused him of. There was just something with the way she said it with so much conviction that Alduin can't help dismissing it as purely the ramblings of a senile old witch like his mother wanted him to do.
And it appeared that Mr. Riddle thought so too.
For Alduin though, it felt a little bit more personal. It's as if the old woman didn't even consider him human, and that greatly bothered him.
"No, please. As I've said, I understand," Miss Donna turned to Alduin, "I'm really sorry her words upset you and your parents. Could you please extend my apology to your mother as well?"
There was a certain look that passed through the singer's eyes at the mention of his mother. If Alduin had to guess, it was probably because she thought back to what happened and wondered how his mother was pulled from the trailers by the old woman.
"Of course, I will," Alduin answered with a sympathetic smile.
"If I may, Miss Donna, could you at least tell us more about the late Madam? Color us curious," Mr. Riddle added.
"Well… I suppose," she passed a glance at Alduin to which he nodded in agreeance, "The Madam's name is Sylvia Trelawney and she has been a part of our circus family since its founding nearly fifty years ago. According to our ringmaster, she persuaded him into letting her join. She's quite spirited for an old woman, you see. The Madam has a family but she said they're well off without her and wanted to have a little bit more adventure on her own. She has her own stall where she would divine people small fortunes wherever we set up our shows. She's a genuine Seer, you see."
Two sets of black brows rose at that. Although one out of two rose only ever so slightly because of his impeccable control.
"A Seer, you say," Mr. Riddle drawled, "How rare."
Miss Donna nodded proudly, "Yes. Even though she had completely lost her eyesight twenty years ago, she was still able to predict and use her divination tools without a problem. In fact, she even said that she's able to see clearer now that she had gone blind, but I think that's just per pride talking. Unfortunately, our last show in Moscow was the last time she could divine for the people. Her age had finally caught up to her and her health had worsened ever since. We just couldn't leave her as she had become a part of our family. She died at two hundred and one years old."
Alduin became silent for the remainder of their visit at the circus. He graciously let Mr. Riddle take hold of the conversations and would only pipe in a word or two when needed. After learning that his trip outside had proved to be futile, his lethargy returned to him with a blank mind and a desire to return home.
'I should've just stayed home,' he thought defeatedly as he followed his sire's lead. He should've just listened to his mother and ignored the old woman.
With half a mind, he and Mr. Riddle paid their respects to the rest of the circus family. Though some were still incensed at their trespassing, they were immediately shot down by Miss Donna. Apparently, the singer was closest to the Madam so she felt responsible for their little altercation. Besides, it's not that they came here to do any harm. They just wanted some answers. She reasoned.
"A Seer, who would've thought hmm?" Mr. Riddle started conversationally when they finally exited the plaza. The brick wall gleamed briefly the second they stepped out, indicating that the circus folk re-casted their ward.
Alduin blinked up boredly at him. He was no longer in the mood after this failed excursion and just wanted to go home, make a steaming mug of cocoa with marshmallows, build a pillow fort in front of the hearth, maybe even grab a book from the library, play some soft music on their muggle gramophone, and then sleep until his mother comes home; when she would wake him up to eat the dishes she brought from whichever country she visited for dinner.
'Yes, that sounds like a perfect plan.'
But first he has to get away from his apparent father first.
"It's almost time for lunch. What say you to some Sheppard's pie, Alduin? You must be hungry, aren't you?"
'Maybe after lunch.'
.
"You've been quiet."
"I have," Alduin answered before gleefully shoving another spoonful of said pie in his mouth.
Mr. Riddle sat back comfortably on his chair, unfazed by his current behavior. Having already gotten used to it. If it were like their first lunches, the man would've already been scowling at his attitude (albeit subtly, of course) but he seemed to be in a very talkative mood after they left the circus.
A mood that, unfortunately for him, despite the hearty meal on the table, Alduin did not meet.
The older ravenhead tapped his finger on the arm of his chair, "Does your mother know about the things you can do?"
"Of course she does," he answered as-a-matter-of-factly, "Mother teaches me a lot of things, not just those written in books."
"I see. Does she also set up wards for you to practice on?"
Alduin chewed slowly, giving himself time to answer. In a roundabout way, the answer to that question is a yes. Except that instead of wards, his mother lets him practice on the least volatile artefacts in her cabinet. Under her supervision, of course. His mother also taught him a form of meditation she had learned when she visited India before he was born.
But of course, he can't say that.
"Yes," he answered instead, "She casts wards around the flat and lets me break them under her supervision. She said that a person is shaped by the education they receive, and you know that she's a powerful witch so this much isn't tedious for her."
"I think insufferable is the better term," Mr. Riddle huffed quietly but Alduin let it slide out of amusement. Who knew his sire was a man who can't accept defeat?
Though normally, what Alduin has been doing could be considered as underage magic- something that is prohibited in some parts of the world, especially in Europe; since he doesn't have a wand for any Ministry of Magic to use to regulate him with, his performances could be chalked up as just accidental magic. Especially since it's incredibly rare for a child to know how to consciously use their magic under the age of eleven. Evidently, his mother had no qualms about it. She even highly encourages his early exposure to magic. Something they both delightfully agree on.
"Back in the circus," Mr. Riddle continued, "The Madam being a Seer, did it not fascinate you? You know what a Seer is, right?"
"Yes, I know what a Seer is, sir. They are people who have the gift of seeing into the future with their Inner Eye. They predict prophecies but they are also considered to be extremely rare."
"Five points to Slytherin," his sire nodded satisfyingly, "Pity the woman died. Your mother must've heard of her and tried to get a reading before that little mess happened."
At this, Alduin snorted in a way that he would've kicked himself for such an unsightly behavior, "I highly doubt that, sir. Mother hates divination. Says it's all nothing but hogwash."
Silence fell between them for more than a few heartbeats. When Mr. Riddle didn't respond immediately to his words, Alduin took a peek up at him and met his penetrating gaze. His expression remained unchanged, aloof and seemingly uninterested. Except one of his eyebrows was slightly raised, displaying his interest of his claims.
"A witch who doesn't believe in divination," he enunciated, "and here I thought your mother is smart."
Alduin shot the man a glare at his blatant insult of his mother. The pie in his mouth instantly tasted like ash. Mr. Riddle huffed in both dismissal and amusement though. Unaware that his scathing look reminded the man of his mother.
"And you? Do you also hold the same belief?" Mr. Riddle asked.
"Yes," he answered with conviction, "Mother said that predicting one's future is a worthless endeavor. Not to mention one cannot accurately divine something anytime they want."
"I assure you, Alduin, Divination is a certified branch of magic. Wizards and witches have practiced the art for centuries and its still recognized and taught in institutions to this day. Don't you think it wouldn't have survived this long if it is, as your mother said- hogwash?"
"Oh I understand what you're trying to say, Mr. Riddle, but it's the principle behind the practice is where I'm basing my argument," Alduin answered, feeling defensive, "I'm sure my mother would gladly recite her arguments herself, but if I may offer my personal view on the subject, I think Divinations is boring."
"You're using methods to achieve an outcome that foretells you what lies ahead in your path. How is that boring?"
"It is exactly because I'll be able to learn about my future is what makes it boring. If I know what's going to happen then I'll be spoiled of my future and lose the thrill of days leading to that event. That sir, to me, is incredibly boring. Although… not that it matters," Alduin finished the last of his pie and leaned back on his seat, mirroring his sire's posture, "because my mother told me there's no fate that knows what I'll become."
"And you believe her?"
"Wholeheartedly."
"It seems you really do have much to learn," Mr. Riddle commented after a moment of silence, but before Alduin could make a rebuttal, he was procuring something from the inside pocket of his coat. In his hand that he held out was an expensive looking white envelope with embossed peacock designs. The deep green wax seal showed a large letter M. "This is for you."
Without much prompting, Alduin accepted the letter with both hands and internally commended the quality of the paper alone as he stroke it with his thumbs. He turned the letter over and there was his name with a missing address and the name and address of the sender written in cursive that still needed practice.
"It's a letter from Lucius."
"Yes," Mr. Riddle drawled, "It seems that you made quite an impression. You two looked like you've gotten along well despite your first meeting."
Alduin shrugged, "He's alright."
He had met and mingled with children his age before. Whilst he and his mother were in Spain, they stayed at an upper-middle class residence so most of the children he met were mostly proud and entitled to their rich heritage.
If he were being honest, Alduin didn't care for them. Mainly because he found them boring. Lucius Malfoy was no exemption.
He bragged about many things, with a tone that was obviously meant to demean him. However, Alduin just couldn't find it in himself to care, let alone be offended at his attempts. It was only due to pride that he rebutted him with stories of his experiences traveling around the world. Stories he made sure to exaggerate and sugrcoat just a tad tastefully for the other boy.
Although he found the Malfoy scion boring on their first meeting, he would be lying if he said he didn't find his reactions to his stories very amusing.
"He's a bit of a prat though," Alduin added, eliciting a huff of amusement from his sire.
Turning the letter back over, he broke the seal and took out the letter inside. The perfectionist bit in him instantly thought the other boy needed to work more on his penmanship.
"It's an invitation," Alduin shared, his brows raised in genuine surprise as he skimmed his eyes over the letter, "Lucius is inviting me to his house to play."
The letter also mentioned wanting to hear more of his stories, riding brooms, and meeting his friends. What caught his eyes the most though, was the short sentence of tea and cakes he and his mother brought back from France.
"How nice of him," Mr. Riddle added, "He'd send the letter to your home but he seemed to have some trouble with your address. Fortunately, I was there when he asked permission from his father. So I volunteered to hand you the letter myself."
As sound as his explanation was, Alduin knew that there was more to be said from Mr. Riddle's words. When he said there was trouble with the address, he meant that letter couldn't be sent like normal via owl, and that's because of his mother's enchantments. Lucius also couldn't leave the letter at the front desk of their flat building because it would be unbecoming of a prestigious family like the Malfoys to send such a letter by proxy.
It also doesn't take much to conclude Mr. Riddle 'volunteered' so he could see Alduin's reaction himself.
"Ah but how unfortunate. It isn't like you are going to accept the invitation, right?" the younger ravenhead shot his head up at that. His brows furrowed in confusion at his sire's words. "After all, your mother dearest couldn't possibly want you anywhere near that house after what happened last time."
A scowl painted Alduin's face as he thought back to that incident. The one where, because of his selfishness, gave him the fright of a lifetime and nearly costing his mother's song. He never wanted to hear that wretched noise again. He never wanted to make his mother so upset again. He never wanted to-
'It might be fun.'
Words whispered in his own voice echoed in his head, dominating his thoughts and the heavy guilt in his heart.
There it was again. That ugly churning in his stomach that mimicked the pull of desire. Like a call for hunger. But instead of food, it was a hunger at the prospect of experience. He may have found Lucius boring for having an attitude he's seen before, but the bits of lifestyle he shared during their small interaction sparked an interest in him.
He's felt this way before.
During their travels, Alduin had the luxury of experiencing plentiful things from different cultures. However, since the moment he and his mother had set foot in Wizarding Britain, he'd yet to experience something interesting and new, that made him churn his stomach in want.
He may have mocked them, but Alduin has never experienced what a pureblood lifestyle was like before.
He looked up at the man staring intently at him from across the table. This was also a good opportunity for him to see Mr. Riddle in his environment. He didn't lie when he said he didn't care about their biological tie to one another, and he does have something he's craving, but it was a lie when he said he didn't find him interesting as a person, and that's beside the broken tune of his soul. Alduin had always wondered what Mr. Riddle was really like when not in such a public setting. What was he like when not playing the role of a dutiful, attentive father?
'And here is one being offered in a silver platter'
"Such a pity," he said in a forlorn tone, "Then I suppose I'll have to tell Young Lucius the unfortunate news-"
"No!" Alduin exclaimed, only loud enough to not disturb the other diners, as he retracted his hands when Mr. Riddle reached forward to take back the letter. He stared back at him right in the eye, "I-I accept the invitation. I'll talk to mother."
He didn't miss the gleam in those equally dark eyes.
Hermione smiled as she bid the herbologist working for her in Portuguese. Duarte Santiago was a wizard kicked out from Castelobruxo during his fifth year after an incident with another student. Because of his lack of schooling and poor, muggleborn background, he had a hard time making ends meet. However, he had a passion for the study of magical plants that reminded her so much of Neville that she offered him a proposal. She will give him his own place on a remote land in the Amazon where he can freely live and expand his independent study, and in return, he will share any discovery he made in his research and provide her with continuous supply of all the rare herbs she needed for her advanced potions.
Her only ultimatum was that he wasn't allowed to tell anyone who his sponsor was nor was he allowed to share any of his knowledge to anyone. Especially to a wizarding governing body. And should the time come for him to accept an apprentice, he had to present them to her first.
Fortunately, Duarte, after having experienced one misfortune after another since he was kicked out of school, was more than happy to accept her offer.
As capable as she was to do all of these herself, there's only one Hermione Jean Granger, and there wasn't enough time in a day to do all of this. Not when she'd rather prioritize in taking care of her son.
After closing the large greenhouse door behind her (reinforced with wards she placed herself), Hermione took out an empty vial from her beaded bag and activated the portkey.
She reappeared in a dark alleyway in a dense residential area of muggle Greece at night.
Already knowing her way, Hermione let the shadows between the tall buildings hide her as she went about a familiar path. Even when she passed by muggles, the enchantments she placed on herself prevented them from even noticing her, as if she was a ghost.
Finally, she stopped exactly in front of two houses. The House of Black at 12 Grimmauld Place was the last place Hermione went to before leaving England for good. There, she made sure to not overstay her welcome. Not when it was no longer safe after the apparition mishap with Ron and Yaxley when they ran from the Ministry after getting the locket horcrux. There, she gathered everything she can, knowing that there were books and artefacts an old and prestigious house as the Black may possess. Some may call it thievery, and Hermione may have found it appalling before, but morality is easily grayed when it came to survival. Especially after all of the hardships she went through.
Besides, after the promise Harry made her make, she liked to believe he wouldn't mind her taking his late godfather's and his family's belongings.
Once the soft rumbling of the street stretching, as a new house suddenly appeared, stopped, Hermione approached the door with her own key in hand.
The door opened to an interior much larger than seen from outside. The house was silent with the dark of the night giving its white stone walls almost a blue hue. She passed through the foyer and walked nonchalantly down the hallway, ignoring the minimalistic furnishing of the rooms.
Then suddenly she stopped. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught an unusual movement of the shadow of one of the hanged paintings. It was unusual, because shadows shouldn't be moving without a light source. Then she heard low growling seemingly coming from all around her. The shadow she had noticed earlier moved more noticeably this time. From the painting, it stretched down to the floor in front of her like a dark curtain. Then it rose up like a pillar as tall as her until it formed an elongated shape. A pair of striking eyes opened as the growling grew even louder.
At any given moment, Hermione would've already took out her wand the second she saw the shadow movement. Instead, she remained stock still, wand secured in her holster, and she smiled.
"Hello Mia," she greeted the shadow that had formed into a dog-like shape by now.
Below its eyes, on its long snout, the shadow split to reveal rows of sharp fangs and a long red tongue.
A tongue that licked her from chin to forehead.
"Oh no- Mia! Bad girl!" she admonished as she quickly took out a handkerchief to wipe her face.
The large shadow faded and instead a lean dog that reached only up to her stomach appeared. She had brown fur with black stripes that resembled a tiger's, a pair of large pointed ears stood erect atop her head, but what's most prominent were the sets of large and sharp claws.
Mia only let out a loud bark as she hopped in place. Her thin tail wagged excitedly. The dog before her was a magical creature called a Sigbin. Found only in the deepest jungle in the Philippines of Southeast Asia, it's a ferocious and commonly aggressive creature that preyed on livestock and even human babies. However, if successfully tamed, it can become the most loyal companion a witch or wizard could ever have. Especially with its ability to travel in literal shadows, they make excellent guard dogs. Hence, their other name as 'Witch Dogs'. Unfortunately, the creature also has the uncanny ability of refusing to breed outside the country so being able to breed one outside the Philippines was nigh impossible.
They're an unknown species current books on magizoology don't know about, that only the few magic folk in the Philippines knew of, and only a handful of them knew the secret to taming them.
A secret Hermione shared to the wizard she's helping to hide.
"I'm happy to see you too," Hermione relented after cleaning herself. She smiled down as she patted the dog's head. "You seem healthy. Your master didn't miss a day feeding you again, did he?"
Mia barked resolutely, as if understanding her.
"He didn't? That's good. Wouldn't want you causing a ruckus and eating the small animals in the muggle streets again like last time, would we?"
Another bark.
After giving the dog a few more pats and scratches, Hermione continued walking down the hallway with Mia following behind her. At the end of the hall to the left was a door inscribed with a plethora of runes. Almost as if every security measure known to wizardkind was placed there. Undeterred, Hermione opened the door. The blood magic there instantly recognized her from her touch alone. It revealed to her a flight of stairs that led down to the basement. The traps placed there also remained inactive upon her recognition.
"Hector!" Hermione called the moment she was at the bottom. The large basement-turned-laboratory, complete with every tool, equipment, and shelves brimmed with books about topics from Potions, to Alchemy, to Astronomy, even Philosophy, was a room she would bet even Severus Snape would envy.
She traversed through the tables when she received no answer until she reached the furthest back where a big drawing of the ouroboros hung. Beneath it was a tall wizard with select strips of grey hair against light brown, hunched over a long table. His frame hiding the source of a golden glow.
"Hecto-"
"SPIES!" the wizard shouted as he immediately whirled on his heel. His wand shot out a spell with excellent precision to where her heart was.
Hermione dispelled it instantly before it was less than a feet from her chest. Beside her, Mia barked loudly as if in amusement.
"Hello Hector," Hermione smiled.
Hector Dagworth-Granger, after realizing it was just her, lowered his wand followed by a loud sigh of relief.
"In the name of magic, Hermione, don't scare me like that, child!" he admonished. The Potioneer-turned-Alchemist huffed before quickly gesturing at her with his hand. "Come! Come! You must see this!"
She approached the long table he was working on and stopped right beside him. Atop a drawing of a transmutation circle, within a round-bottom flask held up by a metal tripod, was a floating blob of gold emitting a soft glow.
"Is that-"
Hector grinned broadly, "Pure Liquid Gold."
"Amazing," Hermione gaped, hands falling atop the table as she leaned to get a closer look.
"While those fools only care about turning common metals into gold and silver, I have successfully changed the state of one metal to another while also maintaining all of its magical properties! Just think about all of the possible creations and improvements on existing fields that could be done with this!"
Hermione could only mentally agree. Her mind instantly worked double its speed as she thought exactly of what Hector said.
"By the way, did you say that you would be coming around seven?"
She snapped out of her scholar's zone at the question and finally teared her gaze at the man old enough to be her father, "It is seven, Hector."
The man blinked owlishly at her. The growing wrinkles on his face stretched as he turned to his dog, "Mia! Why didn't you tell me Hermione had arrived?"
Mia just growled at him in annoyance.
Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at their exchange. Hector's eccentric personality was always a welcome break. Despite the man's almost introverted nature in regards to socialization- always wanting to be left alone to his research- they both got along swimmingly. Probably because he respected her as a witch and appreciated her academic mind.
Never mind the fact she's also sponsoring and helping him hide for the last nearly ten years.
"You can make it up to me by having that drink with me like you promised."
They had left his house and ventured to the wizarding side of Athens where they entered their usual pub.
After they got home from the circus, Hermione immediately sent Hector a letter, telling him that she would need to talk to him about a personal matter apart from her monthly check-ins on the progress of his research. She also said she would appreciate any advice he can give her during their talk.
Out of all her associates, the wizard whom she was unrelated yet shared her last name with, was the only person she was willing to share a bit about her secret due to the nature of his work and her request of him.
But first, since it's been a while since they've sat down and talked, they both agreed that a couple of drinks would be a good ice breaker. It had been a while since she had any liquor herself, not having the need to indulge with Alduin around.
"Ah! Madam Hermione! Sir Hector!" greeted the bartender behind the counter when they entered. "Welcome! Welcome!"
"Hello Basil," she greeted as she settled on a seat at the bar; Hector took the empty seat to her right, "Just a mild please."
"I'll have a mild as well, Basil," Hector ordered.
As the bartender turned around to get their drinks, Hermione turned her head over her shoulder left and right to observe the patrons already enjoying their drinks and smoking in their booths and tables. Most were wizards and only a handful of witches. Yet when she met her eyes with every single one of them, they all nodded to her in acknowledgement, and some even raised their glasses at her.
"On the house, Madam," Basil said cheerily as he set down his best glass mugs in front of them.
She smiled gratefully at the man before lifting her own drink.
"Cheers, Hermione," Hector toasted.
"Good health to you, Hector," she toasted back.
They clinked their glasses together and drank. Hermione could only drink up to half of the full glass whereas Hector kept gulping them all down in one go. It really has been a while since she last drank.
After ordering himself another mug, the two unrelated Grangers began chatting. Asking each other how the other had been since the last month they saw each other. Hector talked freely with her, knowing that his identity was kept safe in this pub.
"So how is your boy, Alduin? Finally ran out of books to read in your home library?" he teased.
Hermione chuckled, "Not even close. He still has a lot more books to go through before he could be done with even half of them. But… I am getting worried. He's growing up so fast he's at an age where he's even starting to tease his own mother!"
Hector guffawed, "That little rascal! This is why I don't have children, but that doesn't mean I can't find the misery of parents amusing!"
He laughed a bit more to which Hermione just rolled her eyes.
"He'll be turning eleven next year, yeah? Seems about the right time to get his Hogwarts letter. That's the reason you came back to London, right? You think you're ready to let him go for months for the next seven years?"
Hermione chewed on her lip, unable to answer. It's not that she hadn't thought of it before. But there were just so many things that needed her attention more than worry about her son going to school. Does he even want to go to school? Alduin never talked to her about it even when the topic was brought up. Would it even be possible for her son to go to school? Will any magical school even acknowledge him?
If things were a bit different, she would be counting the days herself until her son finally got his Hogwarts Letter. Because, of course, she'd want her child to experience the majesty she felt when she entered Hogwarts.
"I trust Alduin can take care of himself," if the time comes, she left unsaid. Then added proudly, "I bet he would even claim the top student spot in his first year."
"Not to mention he'll be a total heartbreaker in the following years. If the witches today are still the same as back in my time at Hogwarts, your boy will be leaving a trail of broken hearts wherever he walked."
At that, her eye twitched. She adored her son, beyond his physical features. But she'd be lying to say she doesn't feel proud of mothering such an adorable, handsome boy. But knowing now whom she owed Alduin's looks to… just sent shivers down her spine.
At least the genetics on Riddle's side were strong. Harry mentioned the Gaunts didn't look exactly as… beautiful in comparison.
"I'll cross that bridge when I get there, Hector. Right now, I'd like to enjoy my time with my son while I'm still taller than him."
"Yes, yes, every mum wants their children to stay little and adorable forever," the Alchemist said good-naturedly as she finished the rest of her mug with an agreeable smile on her face.
"By the way," Hermione turned, face a little more serious. "You mentioned in your letter you're suspecting trouble. You know you're always protected with me, right?"
Hector stared ahead as he drank a bit of his drink. The joviality in his amber eyes lost its shine, "I received a letter from my friend in Birmingham. Said there were some shady people looking for me."
Her brows furrowed, "Looking for you?"
"Said they came to him a few times already. Asking him where did I go, the last place I went, what I've been doing, who was the last person I talked to, why did I suddenly turn to alchemy, and more questions like that."
"It's been nearly ten years, Hector. Why would people suddenly be looking for you again?"
"I don't know," he shook his head, "But I'm… worried. I got a bad feeling ever since I read Tim's letter."
Hermione held her chin in thought. Trying to make sense of the news. She doesn't suspect Mr. Cainsworth- Hector's most trusted friend and colleague whom he chose to be the only person he was willing to remain in contact with outside his hiding. Or else, she would've known.
Then who were these people? Old colleagues? Fanatic scholars of his previous works? Did Hector have enemies he didn't tell her about? An aspiring auror wanting to crack the mystery of the esteemed Potion Master's disappearance? Or could it be a certain dark lord hung up on blood heritage?
"Rest assured, Hector, I won't let anything bad happen to Timothy and his family. I gave you my word," she said with conviction.
"I know you do," he nodded before giving her a small smile, "Knowing what you're capable of, I have no doubt you can. Sometimes I wonder if there's even anymore room in that head of yours."
"I've told you about my memory palace, haven't I?"
"Ah yes. For the memory is the treasury and guardian of all things."
'Did he just quote Cicero to me?' She raised an eyebrow at him, "Really? You're starting to get philosophical with me now?"
The wizard ignored her, "You've achieved something even a natural Oclumens would be envious of, my dear. A man's memory shapes his own Eden within. Yours is a grand palace full of the vivid memories you had from your entire lifetime."
"That's true, but it isn't without its downside. Because that's all they are, Hector, memories. I can view them whenever I want but the true experiences that brought those memories… nothing can bring them back."
"You sound like one who tried."
A sad smile curled her lips as she nursed her drink, "Tried… is the best way to describe it."
BANG!
The door to the pub opened with a sound akin to the crack of thunder. Instantly, everyone was out of their chairs on their feet with their wands drawn, ready to fire their spells at the intruder, but when they saw the person, they just pressed their backs to the nearest wall they can find.
Except Hermione.
The man who barged in was tall with a slightly muscular build and swarthy face. He ran inside the pub, flipped the nearest tables and tossed the surrounding chairs. Sending glasses and ashtrays flying. He was sweating all over, and there was a dazed look in his eyes as if he were in an enraged trance. Broken, incoherent screams left his lips.
Hermione shot a spell at him a spell that rooted his feet on the ground and instantly, the people nearest to him held his arms back.
"THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME!" the man shouted, voice raspy and dry from previous shouting.
"Put him down!" she commanded.
"On three!" Hector shouted to the others as he held the man's forearm, "One, two, three, GO!"
They heaved and fell onto the wooden floor in a loud thud. Yet despite the resistance, the man continued to struggle and fight back as if his very life depended on it.
"THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME! THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME! THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME!"
"Breathe, Claude! Breathe!" Hermione cried as she moved in front of the crazed man who continued to shout the same sentence.
"THEY'RE GONNA KILL ME! They're gonna kill me! They're gonna kill me-e-e," his shouts fell into wretched sobs as Hermione's words finally reached him.
"Claude! Claude, you are home," her tone fell but remained firm as she continued to talk to him, "You're not in the woods, Claude. You're back home and safe in Athens. You're not a mindless monster being hunted, Claude, you're a man. You're a wizard. Do you hear me? You're a human being, Claude. You're all right."
She made sure to keep repeating his name. Wanting to snap him from his crazed state until eventually, his breathing fell and shallowed. When she knew he had completely calmed, she signaled to the others to let him up.
Claude breathed hard but when he saw Hermione, his eyes widened and gaped, "Oh hell… Madam Hermione. I-I didn't mean to- I-"
"It's alright, Claude," she assured, looking at him in the eye, "You're all right."
"I swear I-I-" he whimpered helplessly that made even Hermione's heart pinch.
"Did you miss your potion, Claude? Didn't you receive any?" The full moon wasn't that long ago.
"I-I did but t-there were these people. They were carrying w-w-werewolf traps and I-I panicked. I don't know how long I've been running. I just…"
Hermione breathed in deeply through her nose. Part of her was upset at the information while another part did her best to control her expression so as to not agitate the already shaken man before her. Just as there were Witch Hunts conducted by muggles centuries ago, there were also Werewolf Hunts. However, unlike the Witch Hunts that became nothing more than a dark stain in wizarding history, Werewolf Hunts were still being conducted by a number of people around the world. And no, the hunters weren't muggles, but fellow wizards and witches. Magic folk who had such extreme prejudiced views against creatures. They claimed that those infected with lycanthropy are a blight to the wizarding society and are nothing more than dangerous beasts that should be hunted down before they could further spread their disease.
In response to those hunts, werewolves formed packs or colonies as they could only trust one another to keep each other safe. Hermione had encountered such traveling packs a few years ago, and had been helping them ever since.
In respect to Remus Lupin, the pride of her improved Wolfsbane Potion, and for the bleeding heart still beating on her chest for those who were in need. Especially since she was also prejudiced for something she can't be helped with.
Further research since her previous life had allowed her to take the Wolfsbane Potion a step further. Not all werewolves sided with Voldemort back then but those who were discovered to be infected were recruited to join the ranks under the pretense of unity. Those who were vehement in hurting anyone tried their best to run and hide. And for a time, she found companionship with them as people in hiding.
Although her improved potion was still not capable of curing them from the disease, it at least prevented them from transformation during the full moon. However, they are still subjected to their werewolf instincts and certain triggers but to those infected, it's enough for them to fall on their knees in thanks and swear fidelity.
"Drink this Calming Draught, Claude," she instructed, taking a bottle from her bag and enclosing his hand around it. "Drink it and go home to your family. I'm sure they've been worried sick looking for you. Could someone help him get back home please?"
She announced and one of the patrons stepped forward as the others looked back at her with newfound respect. All of these people were infected with lycanthropy, and therefore indebted with her monthly supply of potions.
In return for their fealty, because they can't accept no for an answer no matter how hard she tried, they swore their wands and services to her. To call when she needs of them, and to ask what she would of them.
"Yes… T-Thank you, Madam. Thank you."
Escorted out by his fellow werewolf, Hermione swished her wand around the pub and all of the broken furniture and glasses returned to normal. There's no saving the drinks that spilled though.
"That's for the trouble, and give everyone here a free drink," she said to Basil as she nonchalantly dropped a small bag of galleons on the countertop.
"You're too kind, Madam!"
"Thank you, Madam!"
"Please come again, Madam!"
A chorus followed after her as she exited the pub. Her mind whirling around one bad news with another.
"I know there are a lot of secrets you've yet to tell me, Hermione. Despite your… circumstances," Hector broke the silence once they were in the safety of his home. "But I'd like to believe I know enough that there's something going on for you to write a letter practically asking me for advice. Hermione, child, what is going on back in London?"
Hermione took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, "I found the father of my son, Hector, and I'm not sure what to do about it."
Calling on the future, I heard humanity's screams.
Bouncing back and forth, reality wasn't what I once believed.
Sorry for the late update! Things are finally progressing closer to the parts of the story I'm excited to write about. I promise things are moving along especially Tom's plans. Does anyone have a guess what he's trying to do apart from playing the act of being a dutiful father and loving husband?
Of course, Tom didn't invite the Malfoy's to the circus just as Hermione speculated. There's a reason he wanted Hermione to meet Serafina and Alduin to Lucius.
Also, the bit about werewolf hunts were real according to my research and the Sigbin in this chapter is inspired by the mythological creature from the Philippines. The Witch Dog is apparently a real dog breed. I'll be injecting other mythical creatures in this fic depending on the need. I love reading myths of other countries!
Thank you so much for the continued support! You can buy me a coffee ( /jmcastle) if you like!
Take care everybody! And STAY AWESOME!
Ciao~!