Lucy's trips to Diagon Alley became more and more frequent. She visited the Weasleys once per week every Wednesday, but she declined their offers to stay overnight. She did the first time, but she had been so busy that she wasn't able to write in the diary. Riddle had been very displeased when she arrived at Wool's.
She couldn't blame him, and she actually felt sorry. She understood where he was coming from. He'd been trapped for half a century in his own diary, and while he might not have been born a human, he every bit had the memories and soul of one. Once she began to write to him in the diary as a fellow person, she in a way made a commitment to Riddle. She couldn't leave him stranded, it'd be cruel.
Apart from that instance, Lucy and Riddle got along quite well. Sure she ribbed at him sometimes, but he taught her useful information. She found The Dark Arts: Unearthed genuinely fascinating. It neither praised nor shamed Dark Magic, but it explained its mechanics and how Light spells could be used in a Dark way just as Dark spells could be used for good. Riddle was pleased with her curiosity toward Dark Magic and encouraged her to begin practicing as soon as they returned to Hogwarts.
She was sitting at her desk, writing a letter back to Megan when an owl arrived at her window. Riddle was out at the moment lounging on her bed— she had no idea how he was able to lay on it when he was vaporous, and he smugly refused to explain.
She opened up the letter and smiled when she saw it was the list of school supplies. That smile slowly faded when she saw what was under the Defense Against the Dark Arts section. It was every single damned Lockhart book out on the market.
"Gross!" She complained, dropping the paper on her desk. She went as far as to step away from her desk. The small barn owl looked equally as disgusted to have carried it. She gave the owl a look of complete understanding. "I am so sorry you had to do this, young man," she said solemnly.
The owl hooted once. She waited, but he made no move to leave.
"What? Do you want to stay here, little guy?" She asked curiously. The owl hooted again and moved from the window to her desk.
Riddle stared directly at her.
"I'm sure you're wondering, am I about to steal an owl from the school?" She guessed. Riddle nodded, like it was obvious. "Then yes, yes I absolutely am." She looked back at the owl and grinned. "I think I'll call you... Snape."
The owl let out a thrilled hoot and flew over to Hedwig's old broken cage, resting on the perch.
Black ink appeared in the diary. She kept it propped up against the wall, always wide open.
Are you really naming your stolen owl after a professor?
"You know, Riddle, you really need to stop questioning me so much," Lucy said with a shake of her head. "The answer to that question is yes."
...should I even bother asking why?
"Maybe I think Snape is a lovely name," she said. Riddle's refusal to answer explained his response well enough. "Tom. Sometimes Lucy needs something to make her happy. Right now, naming my owl after a professor I hate would make me extremely happy. See? Just the thought of calling his name in public does the trick."
Riddle appeared again, shaking his head before heading back to the bed. Lucy grinned to herself and put her letter to Megan in an envelope.
"Oh, Snape! Would you like to deliver a letter, my precious boy?"
Riddle put his hands over his face, sighing deeply. And for the first time, Lucy heard it.
"Kid, Magic's not allowed outside of school," Mallory told her as she served Lucy a bowl of soup. She came to Malady's every time she came to Diagon Alley— which happened to be around two times per week, maybe more if she was really bored. She didn't always buy anything but she liked to sit in Mallory's shop and cast spells. It wasn't like the woman told her to stop or anything. All she'd do is reminded Lucy it was illegal, for deniability reasons.
"Well you see, somewhere in the world, school is in session," Lucy replied. She pointed her wand at her coin pouch and said the expansion charm yet again. She thought she saw it get slightly bigger, but it was hard to tell.
"Yeah, all right, wise-ass," Mallory rolled her eyes. "Why can't you do magic at your home? Are you a mudblood or something?"
Lucy didn't mind being called a mudblood. She knew that blood purity was plenty common in the wizarding world– the sooner she accepted that, the easier her life would be. Now it didn't mean she liked it— she thought it was an idiotic notion, someone's blood being more important than another's. Power was what made one wizard more excellent than the other, but underneath all that it was a person's character that made them equal. Lucy didn't't relay any of this to Mallory— she knew when to pick her battles. She wasn't a Gryffindor.
"Or something," she said. "I happen to live in an orphanage."
"Cry me a river."
"You know what? Maybe I will." Lucy muttered the charm again. This time around, she tried to picture the whole process. She imagined the bag slowly, centimeter by centimeter expanding from the inside, she imagined the smallest threads growing, and to her delight, it happened before her very eyes. "Aces! It worked!"
"What? Did you manage a Wingardium Leviosa for the first time?" The woman mocked. Lucy had to be careful going back to Hogwarts— the amount of sass she picked up from both Mallory and Riddle was likely to hurt a lot of peoples' feelings.
"No— this expansion charm. I've been trying for half an hour," Lucy explained. She stuck her forearm inside and grinned. How big could she make it? It'd be nice if she could hide out in her satchel. Or her backpack— that would be way more useful.
She expected a sarcastic reply, but Mallory actually stopped working to give Lucy a shocked look. "Let me see that," she said, and with a flick of her wand she summoned the satchel. She inspected it with great care and looked even more surprised, if that was possible. "Kid, even adult wizards have trouble casting an expansion charm. You're saying you did this in less than an hour? You didn't switch it out or anything?"
"No, I was just trying really hard," Lucy frowned. She hoped she didn't do it wrong.
Mallory sent the satchel back to her. "Wipe that look off your face, kid! That was some impressive magic you did there, and that's coming from me. Maybe next summer I'll force you to work for me or something."
Lucy tried not to look it, but secretly she felt very proud of herself. She didn't get many chances to practice spellwork, and it felt incredibly good whenever she could let loose and let her magic out. Sometimes her wand let out her yellow sparks as soon as she touched it— thankfully it wasn't enough of a spell to alert the Ministry of Magic.
She started in on her soup, feeling herself become energized from the magical properties. Mallory was a genius, really. She had just given Mallory a few sickles when she caught a flash of platinum blonde hair right outside the shop. She got out of her chair to take a closer look and sure enough, Draco Malfoy stood outside, examining the food through the window.
"Oh, nice!" Lucy grinned at the thought of annoying someone. Mallory raised her eyebrows at her as she grabbed her things and left the shop.
Malfoy noticed her as soon as she left, and he reflexively pulled a face at her. "Merlin, what are you doing here?" He scoffed. He looked around for anyone else following her. "Where's the Weasleys you came here with?"
Lucy crossed her arms, but she couldn't help from grinning still. "I reckon they're all at home, since I came here myself."
"Really?" Malfoy clearly approved of the idea. "How adventurous of you, Rochester. Have you become a Gryffindor recently?"
"All right, you can drop the attitude, Malfoy. Harry's not around," she said, rolling her eyes. As soon as she said 'Malfoy', Riddle came out of the diary to look. He did it so often now that she didn't give it a second thought. "Are you here shopping?"
"No. Father has business here; I came with anyway, there's a new pair of Quidditch gloves I want. Why are you here?" He asked, and she was glad to see that he dropped the sneer. Though he always looked full of himself– that would never change.
"Boredom," she shrugged. "I'm gonna go harass Lockhart. Want to come?"
He arched an eyebrow at her. "Harass him how, exactly? And how do you know he's here?"
"He's here every Tuesday to take interviews. So far, I've sabatoged them all." She smirked just thinking about it. Lockhart told the employees to keep a lookout for his 'assailant', but no matter what Lucy always managed to turn something of his into stone. Last time it'd been his kerchief around his neck. She was certain the employees knew about it, but they all disliked the man so much that they let her do as she pleased.
Malfoy tilted his head and said, "Might as well. If we get caught, you're taking the blame."
Please. Lucy would pin the blame on him before he could blink an eye. "Of course," she said in a sincere voice. She took off toward Flourish and Blotts, pleased to note that Malfoy was actually following her. She half expected him to try and hex her and keep going but it looked like they were going to be frenemies for the rest of the day.
She crept into the shop. It was easy to go unnoticed— since they'd received their list of supplies, Diagon Alley was always packed. She weaved between the shoppers and made her way up the flight of stairs overlooking Lockhart. To her amusement, Riddle crouched down beside her to watch as well. They were totally partners in crime.
He was surrounded by photographers, reporters, and plenty of witches. She was willing to bet that half of them didn't believe his work—they just thought he was attractive. Well, she couldn't fault them there. Lockhart was very handsome. If he wasn't such a stupid git, she might like him, too.
Malfoy crouched beside her and whispered, "what are you going to do?"
She had to think about it. She had her usual tricks, of course, but she felt invigorated from Mallory's praise— she wanted to try something different. "Maybe turn something into stone. Unless you have any suggestions?"
He thought about it for a few seconds before a sly grin overtook his face. "How evil are you feeling?" He said casually.
How evil was she feeling? Please, Malfoy. She was always down to cross the line. Lucy fixed him with a serious stare. "Malfoy. I would set his robes on fire without giving it a second thought. Do not tempt me."
He appeared to be very tempted to tell her to set his robes on fire, but he decided against it. "The Confundus Charm would look very well on a headline. Do you know it?"
Did she know it? Please— that was on the first page of her book of charms and hexes. She grinned and discretely pointed her wand at Lockhart. "Confundo!" She whispered. To her immense satisfaction, the wisp of light hit him right in the back of the head. The trick was to think subtly so that the light wouldn't be glaringly obvious.
"And that's why I've won the Best Smile award—" Lockhart was boasting, but as the charm hit him, his smile faded and he looked around, half-in fear. "Wha... Where am I?! WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE?!"
His team tried to calm him down, but Lockhart pushed through the crowd, his eyes wide in fear. Oops. It looked like Lucy had accidentally confused him to the point that he forgot he was a celebrity. Shame on her.
Malfoy snickered from beside her while she only let a smirk onto her face. It was only when she felt a tall presence at her back that she realized someone had watched the entire thing.
"Having fun, Draco?" A low, drawling voice asked.
They both straightened up and turned around. Lucy supposed this had to be Mr. Malfoy. He was very tall and had long, silky platinum blonde hair. She wondered if it was mandatory that all old Slytherins had to grow their hair long... she'd have to ask Riddle. Snape could take some pointers from Mr. Malfoy.
Malfoy looked a bit sheepish at the sight of his father while Lucy simply smiled. He looked oddly familiar, but she couldn't place where she'd seen him before.
"Just a little," Malfoy said quickly. "It's not like Lockhart doesn't deserve it. He's a bigger fraud than Dumbledore."
Well, yes, because Dumbledore didn't lie about his achievements, Lucy thought.
"I'm not saying he didn't deserve it," Mr. Malfoy smirked at the pair. He looked over to Lucy with an odd gleam in his eyes. "How rude of me. I'm Lucius Malfoy— and you're a friend of Draco's?"
"Sort of," Lucy and Draco said at the same time. Then they glared at each other. How dare they be in sync?
Lucy extended her hand. "I'm Lucy Rochester," she said with a polite smile. "I'm your son's best friend. His most trustworthy confidant. Dare I say, closer than blood."
"You are not," Malfoy hissed as Lucy shook hands with his father. He glared between the two. He wasn't happy they were meeting, let alone getting along.
Mr. Malfoy gave her an amused smile, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he knew something she didn't. From what the Wealseys told her, Mr. Malfoy was the worst of the Malfoy bunch. He was a cold, slimy excuse for a man, according to them, yet he was standing before Lucy without so much as a sneer at her mugglish last name.
"It's nice to meet you, Lucy. My son's told me about you," Mr. Malfoy said. She cast Malfoy a questioning look, and he mouthed the word 'complained' back at her. Ah, that made sense. "I wish we could talk more, but Draco and I must be on our way. Don't be a stranger."
Malfoy looked equally as disturbed as Lucy felt at Mr. Malfoy's nice attitude. She forced a smile and said, "I have to be going to. Lots of... Orphanage things to do... haha..."
And with that, she blended into the crowd of people, her favorite spectre buddy following close behind. She shook her head as she went and shared a confused look with Riddle.
"I know that entire conversation was weird," she said aloud.
Riddle nodded in agreement.
The next morning, Lucy received a letter from Ron telling her they were going to meet in Diagon Alley in the afternoon rather than her floo to his home. He didn't apologize for the short notice— he knew she would likely be there anyway. But Lucy had an hour until she had to leave, and she intended to make the most of it.
Lucy. What are you doing.
She had tied her sheets around the sturdy rafters, and she hung upside down from them, her leg wrapped around the sheet as a failsafe. She'd left the diary propped up on her desk so she could still read it. Plus, Riddle could write bigger.
"Whatever do you mean, Tom?" She replied innocently. She maneuvered so that she was sitting on top of the rafter, resting her head on her hands.
Get down from there! If you break your neck, Merlin knows who else is going to get their hands on this diary.
"Hmm... you know, I don't think I will get down from here. There's quite a nice view," Lucy said, laying on her back. "The stars are particularly bright tonight." She ignored the fact that it was both daytime and she was staring at a dirty old ceiling. She turned her head to look at the diary.
Lucy...
"What?" She replied.
You know what. Get down! It's like talking to a Gryffindor!
Lucy gasped. "You take that back!" Being compared to a Gryffindor was the highest offense.
Then get down from there!
She poked her tongue out at the diary and turned to face the ceiling again. "Then get down from there," she imitated, putting on an insulting cockney accent. "My name's Tom Riddle and I hare fun. Hah! Make me."
"Maybe I will."
Lucy absolutely shrieked and fell off the rafters. She thanked the heavens one that she thought to wrap her leg— she grabbed ahold of it and hoisted herself up, unwrapping her thigh so she could slide down onto the safe, stable ground. She still landed with a thump into a crouching position. "Okay, how the bloody fu—" she began, using the bed to pull herself up.
She stopped short. Standing right in front of the diary was Tom Riddle. Now, she had made peace with the fact that he could become vapor, but that wasn't the case this time. This was a fully human, clearly distinguishable Tom Riddle. He was tall with sharp cheekbones and perfectly curled brown hair and icy blue eyes that could cut glass. Though he was slightly transparent, he was standing there, smirking evilly at Lucy's shocked state.
"Don't say I didn't warn you," Riddle taunted. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked incredibly smug.
Lucy walked forward and waved her hand through him. It felt cold and tingly, like the vapor, but she couldn't feel anything solid. "What the— how long have you been able to do that?!" She demanded.
Smirking, Riddle leaned against the wall. "About a week. I've been testing it out while you've been sleeping. All those trips to Diagon Alley did wonders for my energy."
"And you didn't tell me this why?!" She demanded. She couldn't help but feel awed at standing in his presence— his real presence. Hopefully that would fade away, and she could get back to annoying him.
"I was saving it. What, you're not going to argue with me now that you can see me?" Riddle mocked.
Lucy glared at him. She found it unsettling that he was leaving the diary while she was asleep, but she attributed that feeling to her being sore that he'd pulled a fast one on her. "You sound just as mean as I thought you would," she sniffed.
"I'm glad I've made your dreams come true. You're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be," He said, pushing off the wall. He started to walk around her room. It was still empty, but her friends sent her pictures of themselves that she had taped to her wall. She supposed he hadn't been able to see those in the dark of night.
"Okay, not like I'm only twelve or anything," Lucy grumbled. "Freaking Slytherins think they can come into my home and tell me my own stature."
He didn't so much as glance at her. "I lived here first," he reminded. He looked at the picture Ginny took of Ron, Harry, and Lucy. In the picture, Lucy was balancing on Harry's broom nine feet in the air while Ron laughed at her and Harry frantically tried to make sure she didn't fall. "That would be The Boy-Who-Lived, correct?" Riddle's voice was clear of any emotion.
"Yep. He killed Old Voldy, all right. Murdered him in cold blood. It was very frightening, actually, he kicked him to death with his little baby feet. I was there, did you know?"
He stared at her long and hard. The sad part was, he didn't look the slightest bit surprised by what horrors she just spewed at him. He simply looked dead inside.
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say anything after 'yep', and we're not going to mention it again. Understood?"
"I've already repressed it," she assured him.
"Good." Apparently she'd spoiled his interest in the pictures because he looked away and instead started to inspect his own diary. She couldn't bring herself to feel bad for it, either. He'd scared the daylights out of her and then called her short. Freaking diary man, thinking he can call people short. At least Lucy didn't live in a diary, so take that, Tom Riddle.
"It's a good thing you're getting your school supplies today," Riddle said, letting his eyes flicker over to her stack of books. "Now that you can hear me, I'm more willing to risk a trip to Knockturn Alley."
Lucy perked up and beamed at Riddle. It still felt surreal, seeing him standing in front of her. "Really?" She said eagerly. "Will there be danger? Please tell me there'll be danger."
"There'll be danger, all right," he said. He then fixed her with a stern look. "And you'd better learn to look mean while you're there."
"What do you mean? I know how to act like I belong," she said, offended.
He was unfazed. "That's well enough in Diagon Alley, but this is Knockturn Alley, Lucy. Looking professional isn't enough. There are people who are on the prowl for young girls like yourself. You need to look like you could set a man on fire without a second glance." He was deep in thought for a few seconds before he snapped his fingers, smirking at her. "Like what you did to that girl Jennifer. You need to act like that."
He looked proud thinking back on the memory.
"I have to act evil? Oh, what a challenge," Lucy grinned. She didn't feel as bad as she probably should about behaving unpleasantly. The thought of setting someone trying to attack her on fire wasn't a terrible idea. She glanced at the clock, then started getting her things together. "Might as well leave now. I doubt Mrs. Weasley would let me slip into Knockturn Alley."
"Remind me why you're meeting them in the first place?" Riddle said dryly.
"It's fun," she shrugged. That was all the reason she needed for anything. There was also the fact that they were all kind to her, and she cared about them— she didn't think he would understand that sentiment.
Lucy yawned, though she didn't mean to, and rubbed at her eyes. Riddle arched an eyebrow at her and said, "You should stop at that Mallory's place. How many galleons have you got left?"
"Around fifty," she recalled. "There's also the Hogwarts fund— McGonagall said they'd put it into my vault."
So basically, she'd have even more money left over after she refused to buy Lockhart's books. If she absolutely had to she would just borrow Megan's. Or steal Malfoy's without him knowing, either way she'd be fine.
Lucy had long since perfected the route to Diagon Alley. She knew which alleys to dart through, the crossroads to avoid, and she even knew which city block had crossing guards to let her across. Her favorite part about it all was that nobody knew. This was something she could do that nobody else could— even Riddle never stayed out long enough. It was sort of silly, but she felt pleased with the fact that she'd created a path for herself.
The bartender, Tom, waved at her as she entered, and she happily waved back. They weren't close or anything, but sometimes when she was on her way back the man would give her a free butterbeer. She didn't have the heart to tell him she didn't like butterbeer.
Riddle stayed in the diary for now and Lucy was glad for it. His vaporous form was easy enough to ignore— she thought of it as a cloud familiar. A rather sassy one but at least he couldn't speak. Having Riddle appear out of the diary, fully... it made her wonder what kind of magic the real Tom Riddle used. Why did he feel it was necessary to make a copy of himself? What happened to the real Tom Riddle? After speaking to his Diary, she found it hard to believe that he worked in a shop until he died.
She decided not to ask Riddle, at least not right now. How would he know, anyway? He was created, and he likely didn't know his future self's actions. She tried not to dwell on her doubts too much. Riddle was prickly, but he was damned useful and sometimes he was even nice to Lucy.
Though the sign to Mallory's shop said it was closed, Lucy walked in anyway. If it was really closed, she would have locked it. Sure enough woman was sittingn in a conjured up armchair, smoking a cigar. She took it out of her mouth and raised her eyebrows at the girl. "Should've known you'd come in anyway. You're annoying like that. Make yourself something— I'm busy."
"Mallory, what are you going to do with yourself once I'm gone?" Lucy said with an innocent smile.
"Probably have a lot more peace and quiet," Mallory replied, taking a puff out of the cigar.
Lucy snorted then went behind the counter. She inspected all the ingredients; none of them were labeled, but the jars were all clear and she could see the different colors and properties of each one. "I don't suppose you have a cookbook anywhere?" She asked even though she knew the answer. Mallory was too paranoid to leave something like that around.
True to her theory, Mallory didn't bother with a response. Lucy nodded and started making herself a sandwich. "You know what? Fine. I'll either get mad superpowers or die a horrible death. Either one is acceptable."
"You'd better not," Riddle's voice warned. She glanced around for him but couldn't find anything. Great, she sighed, now he could speak aloud whenever he wanted to. That wouldn't startle her or anything.
Lucy made the first thing she recalled trying at the shop. It was called Malady's, but since Lucy was special (and annoying) she got to call Mallory by her real name. The food was excellent, although she wouldn't dare take the Weasleys or Harry here— the woman didn't like muggles, or muggle lovers.
"That's the poison jar, kid," Mallory said without looking over. Lucy had just grabbed a jar of purple liquid. "The blue, sparkly one's what you're looking for."
"Then why is the purple one labeled 'energy' and the other one's labeled 'poison'?"
"To kill any thieves."
Lucy nodded. That was as good an answer as any. She made her sandwich, slapped a few sickles into the register, then started heading out. She ate half the sandwich in one bite.
"Oi, you just take my food and leave?" Mallory demanded. "Not even a 'Hello, Mallory'?"
"Hello, Mallory," she said with a cheeky grin. The woman narrowed her eyes at her. "I'll be back tomorrow— I'm going to Knockturn Alley," she explained.
"Really?" Mallory's annoyance disappeared. She perked up and stood from her armchair, turning it into a stool with a wave of her wand. "Hold on, kid, I got something for you to do while you're there."
Great, a quest, she thought, but she didn't voice it aloud. She didn't mind doing things for Mallory, it was just the doing things portion of it that sucked.
Mallory fished around in her back room and eventually came out with an ornate, black box. It looked lovely, Lucy noted, with golden trim traveling in elegant loops along the sides. As she took it into her hands, she was overcome with a strong urge to open it.
"Take this to Borgin and Burkes'," Mallory instructed. She caught the curiosity in Lucy's eyes and leveled her with a stern glare. "Don't open it– it'll kill you. Horribly. Borgin will send me the money through the mail, so don't let him scam you into anything. Oh, and try and look mean while you're down there."
"See?"Tom said. Lucy fought the urge to pull a face at his smug tone.
"Aye-Aye, Captain," Lucy saluted and put the box in her satchel. "Anything else, malady?"
"Come in tomorrow so I know you're not dead." What's this? Was Mallory concerned for her wellbeing? "I want to make sure you didn't get robbed and get my box stolen."
Oh. That made more sense.
Lucy pulled a face at the woman, ignoring her laughter as she left the shop. She only had to turn right to enter Knockturn Alley. At this point, Riddle left the diary to walk beside her. He was less focused on looking at passerby's and more concerned with the shops lining the street. She couldn't read any emotions on him– somehow it was easier when he didn't have a face.
She pulled her gaze away from him. She should be focusing on her surroundings, not Tom Riddle. Even if he was incredibly handsome. She didn't find it hard at all to 'look mean'. She imagined that everyone she saw was Jennifer, and that she had just lit each and every one of them on fire. The thought made her grin to herself like a madman.
The shop windows were lined with all sorts of horrors, and Lucy liked the look of each and every one of them. At the far end of the alley were Borgin and Burkes was, she saw a shop with shrunken heads across from it. She stared at those long enough for Riddle to notice, and he stopped her train of thought with a stern, "Don't even think about it, Lucille."
"I wasn't," she lied. He gave her a skeptical look; to avoid the temptation to go into the shrunken head store, she ducked into Borgin and Burkes.
Out of everyone she expected to see there, she had to say she didn't think she'd run into the Malfoys. The door let out a small ring and Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy and a short man behind the front desk all turned to look at her.
Malfoy looked appropriately outraged to see her there. "Lucy?" He and his father stared at her with identical looks of disbelief.
She raised her eyebrows and tried appearing as innocent as possible. "Is there something on my face?" He couldn't muster a response. "No?" She repeated. "Good."
"Are you lost, little girl?" the man behind the counter didn't bother hiding his distaste for Lucy. "Either way, you'd better get lost—"
"Mr. Borgin!" Mr. Malfoy said sharply. Lucy blinked at his tone as Mr. Borgin shot a wounded look his way. He rather looked like a beaten dog. "What Ms. Rochester does here is her business, and you'd do well not to question her!"
Riddle raised his eyebrows at the man. He didn't understand why Mr. Malfoy was defending Lucy, but Riddle looked pleased all the same.
Lucy nodded. "Yeah, what he said," she agreed with not much conviction. She pulled the box out of her satchel and moved past the watchful eyes of the Malfoys to place it on the counter.
At once, Borgin's eyes lit up with interest. "Oh, wonderful."
"Malady's orders," Lucy nodded. "Oh, and if you don't owl her by the end of the day, she says she'll burn you alive. So no pressure."
Borgin was decidedly less excited to hear that. Though Mallory hadn't said anything along the lines of that, Lucy thought she'd find it funny. "Of course," he said quickly, and then he glanced at Mr. Malfoy. "If that will be all for you?" He said.
"Yes, I think so," Mr. Malfoy nodded curtly. His eyes glanced over at Lucy, who in turn glanced at Riddle.
"Borgin has a spellbook here. It's called 'Riddle's Book'. Tell him Mallory wants it— he seems to be afraid of her," he instructed.
"Malady needs something else," Lucy said. She pointedly glanced at Mr. Malfoy. "Something illicit," she added. If she got in trouble, she was offering him an out for deniability.
Mr. Malfoy got the point and lay a hand on his son's shoulder. "Farewell, Lucy. Maybe we'll see each other later today."
"You know it," she said, though internally she wanted to do anything but that.
The Malfoys left, and Lucy turned to face Borgin. "Riddle's Book," she said. She wouldn't let the fact that Mr. Malfoy's influence had gone deter her.
"Riddle's Book?" Borgin repeated. He wrinkled up his nose. "Why on Earth would Malady want a useless thing like that? No one's been able to open it, not since—" he stopped himself short.
Lucy arched an eyebrow at him. "Is there something Malady should know about this book?" Her voice took on a dangerous tone. From beside her, Riddle tried to fight a smirk and failed.
"No! It's only— when he stopped working here, he put a password on it. Nobody's been able to crack the damned thing."
"Who cares? She wants it," Lucy said impatiently. Grumbling, Borgin left for the back room. He moved a few things around and in the meantime, she started poking around the shop.
Riddle eyed her carefully. "Don't touch anything," he said.
As soon as his back was turned, she went to touch a necklace, when he said sharply, "Lucy, do not! Can't you read? It's killed nineteen muggles!" She jerked her hand back quickly. He glared at her; all she could manage was a half apologetic, half amused look. "Bringing you here was a bad idea," he muttered to himself. "Insane girl."
She didn't dare reply in case Borgin heard, but she pulled a face at the necklace, pretending it was Riddle's face. Borgin returned with a large, dusty old book in his hands. He slammed it on the desk and blew the dust off the cover. It took all of Lucy's willpower not to sneeze from it.
"Thank you," she said shortly, and she placed the book into her backpack. Her neck muscles strained at the force; the lightening charm must be wearing off.
Borgin glared at her before disappearing into the back room again.
It was then that a cabinet beside the front desk opened. And to Lucy's absolute shock, Harry Potter came stumbling out, clutching his broken glasses to his face. She took in his soot-stained appearance. "Someone had a hard time with the Floo, I'm guessing?" She couldn't help but smile slightly.
"Laugh it up," Harry muttered. He shot a nervous look at the back room. "Let's get out of here."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her from the shop. Riddle shot them a glare before disappearing back into the journal. Figures, he never liked Harry for some reason— Riddle probably thought Voldemort had the right idea. He wouldn't be the first.
"What were you doing in there?" Harry asked once they reached the outside. "Who's Malady? And why on Earth was Malfoy's father being nice to you?"
"I made a friend with a lady who gives me food," Lucy told him. It wasn't free food, but hey, a place where she could practice spells of questionable ethics was hard to come by. "She's a little shady, but that's all right. As for Malfoy's dad... I don't know! It's creepy, right? Tell me I'm not the only one who finds it creepy!"
"It's so creepy," Harry agreed fervently. He stumbled along beside Lucy and while his hand was around her arm, it felt more like she was leading him.
She tried her best to look mean, but the effect was somewhat dulled by the boy with broken glasses stumbling beside her. She wasn't the least bit surprised when an old witch appeared in front of them, holding a tray of whole human fingernails. Lucy shot her a disgusted look.
"Not lost, are you, dears?" The woman cackled, like it was inside joke. "I'll take care of you," she smiled darkly, reaching with her long fingers for Harry.
Lucy's eyes flashed, and she had her wand pointed at the witch in an instant. "Stupefy!" She hissed. The light hit her in the chest, and the woman collapsed like a sack of flour.
Harry shot her a half stunned, half relieved look. "Luce, just so you know, I support your questionable business practices," he said with a shaky laugh.
She grinned and linked her arm through his. "I'm very glad to hear that." Her eyes then fell on the fingernails. What was that lady even selling them for...? If she was even selling them?
They both jumped at Hagrid's sudden voice booming down the alleyway. "HARRY! What d'yeh think yer doin' down there?"
Thank Merlin that Hagrid hadn't yelled out her name— that might have tainted her street credibility for future excursions. Hagrid pushed through the wizards and seized Harry by the scruff of the neck. He then noticed Lucy, and he became even more exasperated, if that was possible. "Lucy! Not yeh too!" He groaned.
"Please don't grab my neck, I'm fragile," Lucy told him.
Hagrid settled for grabbing her shoulder, tugging her along. It was less for the worry of her running away and more because someone might grab them on the way out. It wouldn't do to underestimate Knockturn Alley, not for even a second.
He led them through the twisting alleyway into the bright sunlight of Diagon Alley. There, he dropped Harry down and started trying to brush the soot off of him. It looked rather like a mother cat trying to clean its kitten.
As amusing as it was, Lucy took over when Hagrid almost knocked Harry into a barrel of dragon dung. "Scourgify," she said, and instantly his clothes were spotless. Then she said, "Reparo," and fixed his glasses while she was at it.
"Thanks, Luce," Harry said gratefully. He fixed his glasses onto his nose and then peered up at Hagrid. "What were you doing down there, Hagrid?"
"I was lookin' get a Flesh-Eaton' Slug Repellent. They're ruining' the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own, yeh two?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm staying with the Weasleys but we got separated," he explained. "I've got to go and find them..."
The three of them began walking down the street. Lucy somehow convinced Hagrid to give her the world's best piggyback ride, and she towered over everyone else. Riddle came out for a moment to see what was happening but once he saw her, he sighed to himself and disappeared again.
Served him right. Now who was short?
"Harry! Harry! Over here!"
Lucy could easily see Hermione at the top of the stairs to Gringotts. "It seems like I'm chopped liver, once again, Hagrid," she told the giant.
Hagrid chuckled and reached to pat her on the hand. "Don' worry, she just hasn' seen yeh yet."
Seeing as she was on the tallest set of shoulders, she found that hard to believe. But apparently Hermione's deduction skills had faded over the summer; she didn't notice Lucy until the Weasleys had finally arrived. It was quite amusing, seeing a pack of gingers sprinting up the street.
"Harry!" Mr. Weasley panted. "We hoped you'd only gone one grate too far... Molly's frantic— she's coming now—" he then looked up at Lucy. "I say! Lucy, we expected you half an hour ago!"
"I was with Harry," she said with a grin. Reluctantly, she slid off Hagrid's back and landed swiftly on the pavement. She stepped around the man.
Hermione ran forward and tackled her into a hug. "It's nice to see you again, Lucy!" She said warmly.
She patted her on the back with a laugh. "You too, Hermione."
Once everything was all settled, and the hysteria over Harry's disappearance went down, they all headed into the bank. Harry was so busy telling them about Mr. Malfoy that nobody bothered to thank the goblin by the door.
"Thank you," she told the goblin.
"Thank you," Percy said after her.
Lucy nodded at him, and he nodded back. At least he was civilized.
"You be careful, Arthur," Mrs. Weasley was saying. "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew—"
"You don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" Mr. Weasley demanded. He couldn't be upset for long— he caught sight of Hermione's parents, standing nervously by the counter. They were both tall and positively radiated Mugglishness. It looked like Hermione had gotten her hair from her mother.
"But you're muggles!" Mr. Weasley said, delighted. "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing muggle money. Molly, look!"
Lucy shook her head, smiling fondly at the man. It was impossible to dislike Arthur Weasley. She didn't think the man had a mean bone in his body— at least not toward people who didn't deserve it.
Harry and the Weasleys set off with a goblin while Lucy went with Hermione and her parents. Hermione's parents had already transferred the money they neede, but the Gryffindor girl was excited to see how the vaults worked, and the Granger couple didn't like the idea of a young girl going by herself.
"Hello," she greeted Mr and Mrs Granger pleasantly. "I'm the normal one."
"You'd be Lucy?" Mr. Granger said hesitantly.
"And you're the normal one? You're sure?" Mrs. Granger glanced at her daughter.
Lucy's jaw dropped, and she turned to point an accusing finger at Hermione. "You've been telling people I'm nuts, haven't you! I'll have you know I graduated top of my class—"
"You haven't graduated and you certainly aren't top of your class—"
"More lies, I tell you! All lies!"
They bickered the rest of the way to the vaults, save for the ride down— she was having too much fun with the high speed. Gringotts had sent Lucy a letter saying that they'd deposited money from the Hogwarts fund into her vault. She noticed there was quite a sum of money in there— she figured it had to do with Lockhart's books, more than anything. She wondered where Hogwarts got its money. Did they have a tuition? That didn't seem fair. Especially considering the moving staircases, which were libel to break someone's neck one of these days.
"You didn't tell me you had a vault," Hermione said, giving Lucy a surprised look. "Mum and Dad set up mine today."
"Oh, I came here awhile ago," Lucy said. "It's not too far from Wool's. Closer than Harry's house, anyway."
"You should visit me, next summer," Hermione said hopefully.
Lucy arched an eyebrow. She half expected her friend to lecture her on how dangerous traveling alone was— so far everyone else had. "No lecture?"
Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I learned after last year that you've got a handle on things."
She smiled back at her friend. Well, that was a relief. Hermione's nagging had gotten to be a bit much last year. It was better toward the end, certainly, and apparently more so over the summer. She was proud of her for loosening up. Who knows, maybe Lucy would manage to get her a second detention...
Once they'd gotten Lucy's money, they met on the marble steps once more. Mrs. Weasley did a quick head count before nodding to herself. "We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks," she said, starting to leave with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" She looked at the twins but Lucy was offended to see that Mrs. Weasley's gaze flickered Ofer to her, too.
Mrs. Weasley was right in her suspicions, but still— that was cold.
The first thing Harry did was buy the four of them ice creams. They are companionably, all the while strolling down the street, looking at the shops that Lucy found so familiar by now. She particularly liked Monty's Artifact Emporium, which was a rather fancy name for a simple junk shop.
Percy liked it, too, and he was particularly enamored by a book called Prefects Who Gained Power.
"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read off the back. "That sounds fascinating."
"Go away," Percy snapped.
Lucy snickered. It sounded like the type of boring book that Riddle would like... speaking of him, he hadn't left the diary in awhile. She figured that had more to do with the fact that she was hanging around blood traitors and 'mudbloods' and less that he was tired. If anything, she was tired— she was having fun, but she also felt like crawling into bed at any given moment.
They reached Flourish and Blott's after an hour of poking around. At one point Lucy had to drag Harry away from buying a silly golden pair of reading glasses ("Your vision's too rubbish for anything like that," she'd told him), and he in turn had to tug her away from buying a toad. ("You'd just lose it," he told her.)
She wasn't surprised to see the shop was crowded. Lockhart was here, signing books like always. She decided not to prank him, for now, and she stuck with Harry. He started gathering his books and when he noticed she wasn't getting anything, he shot her a confused look. "Have you already gotten yours?" He asked.
"Nope. And I won't be— I looked through them, they're all fairy-tale rubbish." Scratch that— at least fairy tales were entertaining and pleasant to read. The only book she'd bothered to get was The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2, and that was ages ago.
Harry nodded. "I wish the Weasleys would do that too... seems like a waste." He then gasped and then reached into his pocket. "Oh! That reminds me– the bet!"
Lucy groaned and held her hands up to push away the small pouch he offered her. "Harry, I told you, I don't need it!"
"And I told you that my honor would suffer!" Harry retorted. "If you don't take it, I'll make you partner with Ron in Herbology."
Lucy's face turned pale as she recalled the horrors of Ron Weasley handling magical plants. "You wouldn't..."
"And I'll tell Hagrid you love his rock cakes."
Now that was cruel! Harry knew she wasn't able to say no to that sweet man. If he offered her a rock cake, she would suck it up and eat it right in front of him to make him happy.
Glaring, Lucy took the pouch into her hands. "I'll get you for this, Potter," she warned.
Harry grinned and opened his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by the most horrible sound Lucy had ever heard: Gilderoy Lockhart's voice. "It can't be Harry Potter!" He shouted, and his gaze flickered to the mysterious pouch Harry had just handed her. "And he has a girlfriend!"
"Oh, son of a bi—" Lucy hissed, but Lockhart dove through the parting crowd to grab each of their arms, pulling them to the front. The crowd burst out laughing and to Lucy's immense displeasure, there were a few 'awwwws' too. Harry's face turned a deep red, but she felt too dead inside to be embarrassed.
"Nice big smile, Harry," Lockhart said pleasantly through his teeth. "Put your arm around your girlfriend, too."
"Will I be paid?" Lucy asked dryly.
"I'll have my editor send you ten galleons," He said, less pleasantly.
Oh, what the hell. Lucy grinned and threw her arms around Harry, whose face was too red to say anything. Okay, maybe she was a sellout, but she wanted to take Lockhart's money, dammit!
Once the photoshoot was mostly over and Harry's embarrassment had reached its peak, Lockhart clapped his hands together to gain everybody's attention. "Ladies and gentleman," he said loudly. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for weeks. When Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my biography– which I shall present to him now, free of charge–"
"You can't forget the autobiography," Lucy agreed dryly.
Lockhart's smile didn't waver. "He had no idea that he would be getting much, much more than my book. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
Lucy felt as though someone had hit her over the head with a hammer. No, she wished someone would do that. Anything, literally anything would be better than what she'd just heard. As if things couldn't get worse enough, Lockhart then gave both her and Harry a set of his entire works.
As soon as they managed to leave the crowd, Lucy dumped her books into Hermione's cauldron. "You take them," she said venomously.
Hermione gave Lucy a pleased look and gave her a big hug. Nothing could soothe the decay taking place in Lucy's core.
"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Malfoy scoffed. She had no idea where he came from, but he was standing right in front of Harry. "Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a book-shop without making the front page."
Of course, now that someone didn't like Harry, Riddle decided to show up. He stood behind Lucy and since he towered above her, he could easily see everything. She rolled her eyes– he was such a boy, only deciding to show up when there were arguments happening.
"You know, Malfoy, I made the front page too," Lucy pointed out. "Maybe you should just, I don't know, be better."
Malfoy scowled over at her. "I know you liked it, I don't even need to ask," he scoffed.
Ginny glared at Malfoy, taking the mark against her friends personally. Although, Lucy wasn't offended in the slightest— she was laughing at it all.
"Leave them alone, they didn't want all that!" Ginny snapped. It was the first time she had really said anything in front of Harry. She wished she'd do so more— Ginny was a real firecracker.
"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy jeered.
Lucy gasped and looked straight at Harry, outraged. She held a hand over her heart. "We've been dating for five minutes, and you've already cheated on me?!" She demanded.
Harry was mostly unbothered by Malfoy, so he had no trouble laughing. "Sorry, Luce," he joked. It was easier to laugh about it now that he wasn't stood in front of a crowd of people.
Ron looked at Malfoy with a lazy sort of dislike, like Malfoy was as uninteresting as a pesky fly. "Oh, it's you," he said flatly. "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"
"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," Malfoy retorted. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."
Ron started in on him, and Harry and Hermione had to hold him by his jacket. She sighed. Had he forgotten the last time he insulted her friends' families? It never went well. "Malfoy, we've been getting along recently— I really don't want to have to hex you." Then she pulled out her wand and gave him an evil grin. "But that doesn't mean I won't."
Malfoy shot her an uneasy glance but was otherwise too pleased with himself to bother listening.
"It might be amusing," Riddle said from behind her. She looked up at him to find that he was also amused by everything. "If you're going to do it, use the shrinking charm. I've always wanted to know what it does to a human."
While the thought of doing it to Malfoy wasn't as appealing, she felt a thrill go through her picturing it happen. "Don't tempt me," she warned him.
"Ron!" Mr. Weasley pushed through the crowd, tugging Fred and George behind him. "What are you doing? It's too crowded on here, let's go outside."
"Well, well, well— Arthur Weasley."
"And the award for the most dramatic entrance goes to... Lucius Malfoy!" Lucy whispered. She didn't say it too loud because she was in Mr. Malfoy's good graces — god knows why, but she wanted to keep it that way.
"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said coldly.
"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear... All those raids... I hope they're paying you overtime?"
Lucy's eyes narrowed as Mr. Malfoy reached into Ginny's cauldron and took out a very obviously second— maybe third hand— transfiguration textbook. What did it matter if the book had been used before? It still had the same content. A newer book wouldn't make his precious son any better at transfiguration.
"Purebloods are ridiculous," she hissed. Though Hermione nodded in agreement, it'd been directed at Riddle.
He looked down at her and tilted his head. She still found it so weird looking at his cohesive form. "In these aspects, I'd agree," he replied.
"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy continued. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"
"I'd have to argue that having a playground spat in public is disgraceful," Riddle intoned. He looked disgusted at Mr. Malfoy. "Very Un-Slytherin. Not what I'd expect from a Malfoy."
Lucy nodded; he was referring to whom he described as one of his trustworthy classmates, Abraxas Malfoy. She figured the brain cells must have skipped a generation. Maybe two, but it was still a bit early to decide whether Draco was smart or not.
There was suddenly a clanging noise, and Lucy had to duck to dodge Ginny's metal cauldron. It passed through Riddle and he looked furious at the fact that the pair of them had been the victims of two grown men's squabbles.
"Leave, before this gets worse," Riddle hissed at her.
For once, Lucy listened to him. She slipped from the book shop as a crowd started to form around the fighting men. Riddle followed her closely behind and she could feel the cold sensation of his hand on her back. It was pointless since he couldn't push her along, but she got the point all the same.
"Two grown purebloods, brawling in public," he muttered darkly. "If a Malfoy behaves in such conduct, I shiver to think what's become of the Blacks. The Rosiers. The Lestranges. Lucy, what's happened to the Lestranges?"
They were still walking fast, so no one would notice if she spoke aloud. Not that she would care, anyway— she was used to people thinking she was mad. "I don't know either of those names. I don't think a Black or Lestrange goes to Hogwarts. Maybe a Rosier has."
"We'll have to look into that," he said, mostly to himself. He looked over his shoulder to make sure they had lost the rest of them. She felt bad for leaving without a goodbye, but good god that was a lot of second-hand embarrassment. "That man almost hit you with a cauldron. If I could have hexed him..."
"Mr. Weasley's harmless," Lucy said quickly. Riddle scoffed at her. "Alright, he's a Gryffindor," she admitted, "but harmless all the same."
"You shouldn't go to their home anymore."
The way he said it, it sounded more like a command. She felt herself grow irritated and she opened her mouth to argue, when Riddle held up a hand to stop her. "It's not because they're blood traitors, either. Think logically, Lucy. The school year will have almost started and you'll see all those... people... anyway. You should be preparing, going to Mallory's to practice spells. I know that woman doesn't let you use magic while you're there."
She begrudgingly had to concede that he had a point. Mrs. Weasley about had a fit when she levitated the salt and pepper shaker over to Percy— something about it setting a 'bad example' for the other children. Now, while she greatly admired and appreciated Mrs. Weasley, she had to admit that the thought of living with her didn't sit well.
Seeing her resolve fading, Riddle fought a smirk and continued with more vigor. "And you told me what happened in your previous year. Now that you're not involved in such dangerous things, it's time to prove that you're a capable student."
"You just don't want to go there," Lucy grumbled. He wasn't bothered by her jab in the slightest; he'd clearly convinced her to stay away from the Burrow.
"Well, yes, there's that too," he allowed. "They're all so loud. If I had to hear that Weasley girl talk about Harry Potter one more time, I'd have asked you to throw me into the fire."
Okay, Ginny didn't talk about Harry that much. They talked about other things too, like Quidditch and how stupid the twins were. He was just exaggerating— he did that a lot with things that annoyed him, like how when she had Hedwig, she would always peck at the diary when she got bored. He'd declared that Potter and his owl both had it out for him.
"I would never do that to my best friend!" Lucy gasped. She feigned horror at the thought.
"I'm leaving, partly because of that and partly because I'm tired," he told her with an unamused look on his face.
"You'll miss me," she assured him.
He disappeared halfway through her sentence. She smiled to herself, shaking her head. She'd gotten along with Riddle just fine before, but seeing him physically, the emotions flicker across his face— it was like having an actual friend in her pocket. Or if friend was a strong word, maybe someone to annoy that she also got along with... In any case, she was extremely happy with her luck. She'd have to thank whoever slipped the diary into her bag— Riddle was so useful.
She arrived at the Orphanage in short order, and she pulled out Riddle's Book, examining it. Borgin said nobody had been able to open it in half a century. Once again, she had further proof of Riddle's existence. He had worked there. Which, again, begged the question: how did Riddle know that?
She decided to ask him. She grabbed a pen for convenience's sake and flipped open the diary, laying on her stomach.
How'd you know Borgin had your book if you've been trapped in a diary for so long?
Well, my counterpart didn't just make me and throw me away. That would be foolish. He wrote with me sometimes and consulted me. The last I'd heard from him, he said he'd go up to Hogwarts for a teaching position. I'm not sure if I ever got it...
"You should have," she said aloud on accident. Oops. She'd have to kick that habit by the time September 1st rolled around. "You're a great teacher— you've taught me loads already."
Am I really?
"Definitely. Better than Quirrell, I'd say."
But wasn't Lord Voldemort possessing him at the time?
"Yes," she said. Truthfully she didn't know which times she was talking to Voldemort and which times she was talking to Quirrell. Maybe the times when he'd been impatient with her had been when she was talking to Voldemort? She didn't like to think about it too much— it unsettled her. "You're a better teacher than Voldemort, so I guess you can hold that mantle over your head!"
...Great. Thank you, Lucy.
"Voldemort taught me how to play chess," she recalled. Ugh, that had been so frustrating— Quirrell, Voldemort, whoever had been a prissy son of a snitch that day.
Sorry, what? Care to explain?
"No," she said.
Lucy. You're going to have to explain that.
Grinning, she closed the diary and lay both that and Riddle's Book on her bedside table. "Goodnight, Tom," she said serenely.
"Lucy, you can't just leave it at that."
"Can't hear you, I'm too busy sleeping."
"Lucy!"