Year Six: Chapter Ten

The remainder of the week had passed slowly, but now, Monday morning, Tom sat at Gryffindor table facing the Ravenclaws and hummed in satisfaction. It had begun. Luna glanced at him and smiled thinly before returning to her meal. She appeared to have really gone all out, piling pancakes and tarts and biscuits and honey-drenched fruits high on her plate.

"Did it happen?" Hermione asked, grudgingly curious. Tom had maintained his silence on the effects of the curse.

To his surprise and pleasure, her irritation with him had calmed his own anxieties, and he'd not had trouble sleeping the rest of the week. He supposed his subconscious recognized how unlikely it was that a girl who wanted to throttle him would try to dose him with a love potion. (Although, really, he knew Hermione wouldn't do that anyway, so he wished his subconscious could have gotten that memo sooner.)

"Take a look," he said, nodding toward the other table.

Hermione did, mumbling a distracted greeting to Ginny when the girl sat down beside them. Tom knew the moment she'd seen what he'd noticed because her forehead scrunched in confusion. "Several of the seventh years are missing," she said.

"In the Hospital Wing, I would think," Tom said with no small amount of smugness.

"Okay, but why?" Ginny asked. Though not as irritated with him as Hermione, he knew his silence on the matter was beginning to get on her nerves as well.

Tom sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll tell you. Have you ever heard of a psychosomatic illness?"

Hermione nodded. "It's the idea that mental illness can cause physical illness, I think?"

"Indeed. I read about it in that book you gave me. So consider this, if you would. If mere muggles can experience pain and rashes and such because their mind is troubled, how much more could a being with magic experience?" He grinned at the girls' twin looks of comprehension. "The curse, and please keep in mind that I did not alter its function whatsoever from Pandora's original design, causes the afflicted's worst fears to become their reality."

Luna's amused voice came from behind him. "Cho's screams woke up the entire tower, so we all saw Professor Flitwick taking them to the Hospital Wing. Cho and Marietta looked fine, but Latisha had bruises around her neck, and Kim looked like she was having some sort of allergic reaction."

Hermione sucked in an anxious breath. "Will she be alright?"

"The curse can't directly cause death," Tom said blandly. "It isn't strong enough to make a person's magic actively kill them. However, like most curses, it will only end if an outside force breaks it. People have been known to take their own lives for significantly less."

Whatever moral objection Hermione might have voiced was cut off by Luna's decisive, "Good."

Ginny took Luna's hand and rubbed the back of it comfortingly. "They're paying now."

That evening, Hermione sat at the other end of the bed, arms wrapped around her legs. Her emotions had fluctuated wildly all day. "I need all the details. How are they being targeted? How bad will it get? Are you going to lift it? What's stopping it from affecting people who had nothing to do with anything?" She stopped, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Tom couldn't help the excitement in his voice. "That's the brilliant part. Really, I don't know how I never realized how amazing Pandora was. Such a waste of talent…" He pulled out the paper covered in his notes and the final equation. "So, this part here, you see how it has so many open variables? It's what makes this curse so fantastic. It's quite customizable. This one here designates the target. In this case, the target is 'everyone who sits at Ravenclaw table this week and does not bear my mark.' This section over here, then, determines the degree of intensity. Pandora didn't design it to be an open variable, and I saw no reason to change it, but it wouldn't be difficult to do." At Hermione's questioning glance, he said, "It's currently based on how much the primary caster believes that person has wronged them. Luna performed the curse. I merely provided the power and held the framework steady."

Hermione bit her lip, frowning. "She's not planning to lift it, is she?"

"She might," Tom said slowly. "But only for those who committed lesser crimes, and those people wouldn't be as affected in the first place. What that looks like will, naturally, differ from person to person, but the magic will definitely have a weaker hold on those Luna feels are less guilty."

Ginny spoke up now, lips turned down. "What about the people you have marked? If they're not going to be affected by the curse, what are you going to do to them? I know at least some of them were a part of making Luna's life harder."

That was a problem. Tom couldn't have that kind of discord within his ranks. After discussing it at length with Luna, he'd come to a decision about that though. "Just wait until the next group session," he said. He opened the curtain around the bed. "Neville, could you come here for a moment? I have need of your arm."

Neville looked up from his bed, where he sat reading. "Why?" he asked, even as he shut the book and crossed the room.

Tom withdrew his wand and pressed it against the Mark on Neville's arm. "Don't worry. It won't hurt." He paused, cocked his head, and added, "Well, not you anyway." So saying, he pushed his magic into the Mark and, through it, to the five Ravenclaws not currently afflicted by the curse. In the limited sense of his followers the Mark gave him, he felt an echo of their pain as his magic flowed through their Marks and into them along with the idea that they needed to attend the next study session.

When he at last reigned in his magic, he smiled. "Thank you, Neville."

The boy examined his arm curiously. No doubt he'd expected it to burn, despite Tom's assurance otherwise. However, although Voldemort had made a point of inflicting pain all around, it had never been a necessary part of using the Dark Mark. Now that he had a so-called Light persona to uphold, Tom thought it best not to harm the innocent.

As he closed the curtain again, Hermione said suddenly, "I don't like it."

Tom raised an eyebrow at her, but it was Ginny who asked, "What do you mean?" The girl sounded irritated, and Tom wondered if he'd missed some internal conflict between the two.

Hermione chewed on her lip, thinking through her words carefully. "I understand that this is a punishment for some truly awful behavior, but what if one of them does kill themselves?"

"Then it will be a shame we lost a source of genetic diversity," Tom said blandly.

"Then I won't have to worry about Luna killing them herself," Ginny added. At Hermione's surprised look, the red-head's lips twisted into a wry smile. "Luna's very protective of her father."

It took a moment for Hermione to work past that, but she rallied and demanded, "We can't drive people to suicide. It's wrong! If they do that then they…"

Though Ginny didn't seem to realize where Hermione was going with this, Tom did. After all, he'd grown up hearing these same beliefs. "I never realized you were religious," he commented lightly.

Hermione froze. "I'm… not. Not really." Her gaze shifted away from them. "But I mean… It's far more logical to obey the Church's teachings than to not. It doesn't cause any problems if it turns out they're wrong, but if they're right…"

Tom had heard this style of argument before. It made a certain amount of sense. He also happened to detest organized religion, and thus hated anything likely to sway more people towards it. "You murdered Umbridge last year," he said, ignoring her wounded expression. "I've murdered so many people I couldn't even tell you an exact number. Caring about what some imaginary god thinks seems pretty stupid at this point."

Hermione hunched her shoulders, curling in on herself. "That's on us. But if they kill themselves, they'll be paying for bullying Luna for forever. Even they don't deserve that."

"Hermione," Tom said seriously. "Any god that would punish them for committing suicide because Luna and I drove them to it, rather than punishing Luna and I, is a god that doesn't deserve your faith. Not all people are born with the mental fortitude to endure hardship. What kind of sense does it make to punish a person for the circumstances of their birth?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked down. "I guess." She didn't sound convinced, and she slept facing away from Tom that night. Tom regarded her with no small amount of consternation. Perhaps he needed to push her a bit more - lead her toward the realization of just how good it felt to take another's life. Clearly Umbridge hadn't been enough. He needed to be careful not to trip over his Vows to her though. Maybe Ginny would be willing to help.

It came as no surprise that the next morning, a summons appeared in the form of Fawkes carrying a note. Though he'd anticipated this, Tom still sighed as he read it. He really didn't want to spend the morning with Dumbledore. What a way to ruin a perfectly good day.

"Come in," Dumbledore said when Tom knocked at his door. There was no sign of his usual good humor.

Tom sat in the chair across from Dumbledore and waited. To his surprise, Dumbledore retrieved his Pensieve. "There are some things I'd like to discuss with you, but let us first take the opportunity to take another look into Voldemort's past."

"Alright," Tom said, and they entered the Pensieve.

This new set of memories included himself, and Tom forced himself to remain blandly curious at the small version of himself. It was a simple enough matter to ignore the way Dumbledore and Mrs. Cole spoke about him, but it was more difficult to ignore just how thoroughly Dumbledore had dismissed him upon their first meeting. Tom wasn't sure what Potter would have felt about this memory. Would he have continued to gaze adoringly at the Headmaster? Or would he have sympathized with a young Tom Riddle?

Given his background, Tom thought it possible that Potter might have seen a bit more than Dumbledore had at least. Had he stolen toys? Of course. They'd stolen everything that belonged to him, so he'd had little choice but to steal some back. Had he murdered the rabbit? Of course. Billy murdered his snake the day before, so it only made sense to kill the boy's stupid rabbit in return. Had he terrorized Amy and Dennis? Of course. They'd led him to a stupid cave under the pretext of exploring and then shoved him into the water and held him under. If he then returned the favor, could anyone blame him? It was hardly his fault that they didn't have any magic to save them before they could suffer brain damage.

Once they'd exited the pensieve, Dumbledore remained silent for a time before finally sighing heavily.

"Yesterday, several of the seventh-year Ravenclaws were sent to Saint Mungos," Dumbledore began gravely. "Miss Chang is convinced that the late Mister Diggory is holding onto her, while Miss Edgecomb has become blind. Miss Sheringham appears to be suffering from a severe allergic reaction that has brought her to death's door and has since kept her there, and Miss Randle can barely breathe due to, as the healer put it, the impression that she is being strangled."

Tom said nothing.

With a sigh, Dumbledore continued. "Today, Miss MacDougal's roommates brought her to Madam Pomfrey after she apparently removed her clothing and propositioned several boys. This despite the fact that she confided in her roommates that she put extra effort to downplay her appearance, lest she end up attracting a partner who wanted her only for her body."

Still, Tom said nothing.

"...Is this your doing?" Dumbledore asked at last.

"To the best of my knowledge, none of the magic I've cast recently could cause any of those effects," Tom said sincerely. This was, after all, part of the reason he'd had Luna do the actual casting of the curse.

"I couldn't help but notice that those afflicted are also the only Ravenclaw students in their years who have not joined your study sessions."

Tom hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps the timing of the study sessions happened to prevent my Ravenclaws from getting hit by the spell."

He remained still as Dumbledore scrutinized him. Finally, the man sighed again. "Do you know who did do this?"

Tom shrugged. "I'm sure that, if someone were going to do something like this, they wouldn't tell me about it unless they had a good reason for doing it in the first place." If Dumbledore had simply done his job and prevented the bullying in the first place, Luna wouldn't have had to resort to cursing other students.

They sat there a long while. Tom was curious if the Headmaster was really going to leave it at that. There was no evidence, of course. Other than the circumstances, there wasn't even any proof that it was the result of a spell. He supposed that, as a Gryffindor, the man might be willing to go by the rule of 'innocent until proven guilty.' It was a harsh contrast to his behavior a half-century ago.

"If I may," Dumbledore said just as Tom was about to stand and leave, "You've seemed troubled since the beginning of the year. If you'd like to speak with someone about whatever's been troubling you, I'm always willing to lend an ear."

Tom almost refused, then paused as an idea hit him. He would take Myrtle's actions and use them for his own ends. Perhaps, if he hadn't spoken to Ron and Astoria, it wouldn't have occurred to him. He had, however, and so he decided to weaponize his own past. Instead of leaving, he shifted uncomfortably and looked down at his hands. "I - I had a vision. Or something like it anyway."

"From Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.

Tom nodded. "Yeah, but it was like… a memory or something. It was from when he was in school." Dumbledore was so invested in his identity as Hogwarts' Headmaster, guardian and moral compass to his students, Tom was certain this would strike a blow worse than any Voldemort had ever managed.

Dumbledore stroked his beard with a frown. "I wonder if perhaps he may have been dreaming about his school days. What about this memory troubles you then, my boy?"

Tom bit his lip and sounded as uncomfortable as possible (not hard considering how uncomfortable even speaking to Dumbledore made him feel). "There was this girl, and she changed. Like Polyjuice, kind of, but not exactly? And she turned into Moa- I mean Myrtle. The one that haunts the bathroom." He hesitated, playing the part of a teenage boy who felt uncomfortable talking about this sort of thing even at the best of times.

Tom took a breath and said, quite quickly, "She told him that she'd given him a love potion to get him to have sex with her. She seemed to think he'd be happy about it."

It took a moment for the full meaning of the words to penetrate, but once they had, Dumbledore's entire being sagged as he took on his entire 115 years of life at once. Tears welled up in his eyes, and the old man removed his glasses and covered his face with his hands, looking every bit as defeated as Tom had always dreamed of seeing him.

He felt a little let down at seeing it now, without any buildup, but that was perhaps for the best. Cackling gleefully would, after all, be breaking character in the worst way.

Dumbledore swallowed and said, voice hoarse and head still in his hands, "I never realized just how deeply I failed you, Tom. I'm so, so sorry, my boy." His voice broke at the end.

Tom had to remind himself that the Headmaster wasn't actually speaking to him, but the Tom Riddle of the past.

After letting the man weep for more than long enough, in Tom's opinion, he ventured, "Sir?"

Dumbledore took another moment, wiping away tears and blowing his nose before replacing his glasses. "I'm sorry," he repeated, but this time he was looking at Tom. "I'm sure it's been difficult reconciling your knowledge of Voldemort with the young man who had such a terrible thing happen to him." His gaze grew distant. "If I'd known, perhaps…" He shook himself. "No, it does no good to dwell on dreams."

"It's fine," Tom said, ready to leave now that he'd had his reward for putting up with this meeting in the first place. "I mean, he couldn't have been born evil. Maybe this explains why he became Voldemort." It did, to some extent. Astoria was correct – self-Obliviation generally had poor results.

"Perhaps partially," Dumbledore agreed. "I do believe he started down a dark path long before I ever met him, but this may have been the incident that pushed him fully into the darkness."

Tom felt his fists clench and couldn't unclench them. "Started down a dark path? Why, because he stole some toys?"

Dumbledore regarded him coolly. "Stealing toys was the least of it. He used his magic to terrorize the other children at the orphanage. He murdered another boy's pet rabbit and left it hanging from the rafters for the boy to find."

Tom smiled grimly. "Why?"

"Pardon?" Dumbledore asked, looking confused.

Tom wanted to strangle the man with his overly long beard. Instead, he asked, "Why did Tom Riddle do those things? Do you even know?"

"No reason would excuse –"

"What if the other children beat him up until he scared them out of it? What if Tom Riddle had a pet too, and that kid killed it? What if he was just doing whatever he had to do to survive?" Tom shook his head, pulling on every fiber of Potter's psyche. "The Dursleys hated me. They kept me in a cupboard under the stairs. If I'd had a way of forcing them to treat me like a human being, I'd have taken it." Tom gave the man his most self-righteous, disappointed in the other's actions look. "If you'd gone to deliver Tom's letter and made an effort to understand him and show him how to act, maybe everything would have been different. Instead, you used fear to try to control him, the same methods he'd adopted to deal with his life so far."

Tom stood, shaking his head. "If you'd done better, maybe then—-" He cut himself off, turned, and walked away. "If you'll excuse me, sir."