The bright moonlight streamed upon the astronomy tower, and sitting outside on the grand parapet was a small girl, shivering in her cloak. There was no wind tonight but a deep freeze had encompassed the castle; her hands were stiff from the biting air. If anyone had stumbled across her, they'd think her out of her mind, sitting outside on New Years Eve with a plain, black diary in her hands.
She regarded the diary almost solemnly and opened it. She brought the tip of her red muggle pen to the first page and write, in as elegant a script as she could manage,
December 31, 1992
Tom Riddle appeared in front of her in an instant. His eyes first looked to her and he opened his mouth to say something, but then he registered where they were.
"I told you five days ago to stop wandering around at night," he said, slightly annoyed that she hadn't listened to him.
She set the diary down and looked at him with her hands clasped gently in her lap. "I can't believe you, Tom," she said in a quiet voice.
He froze for a slight second and then rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about, Lucy? Get inside, you'll freeze to death out here."
"I can't believe you would hide this from me," she continued.
"You'll have to be a little clearer." His eyes were narrowed now and his gaze flickered around them to see if anyone else was watching.
"I can't believe..." she took in a deep breath. "You didn't tell me... it was your BIRTHDAY!"
As soon as she finished the word, green confetti shot out of her wand. She burst out laughing at the sheer disbelief in Tom's eyes as the green and silver sparkles passed through his form.
"That's what— how did you even find that out?!" He demanded.
Beaming, she pulled a piece of parchment out of her cloak. "Fred and George found the old caretaker's office for me," she said proudly. "They had loads of records— there was an entire cabinet dedicated to birth dates."
"Why were you looking for old records?" He said suspiciously.
"I was going to look for whoever got expelled last time the Chamber was opened, but I found this by accident." She held up the piece of parchment listing everyone born after September 1st. "Just in time, too! Happy birthday, Tom."
Tom stared at her long and hard, like he was unsure how to respond to such a thing. He then rolled his eyes. "You realize I have been in this diary for fifty years, right? Birthdays are meaningless for me."
"Yeah, everyone says they don't like their birthdays, but secretly they do," she said dismissively. "So, after I found this little piece of paper, I got to thinking. What do you give someone who can't touch anything? Rings and other Slytherin stuff are out. Cake? No chance, you probably hate cake anyway. And then it hit me— you give him knowledge."
"This is a surprisingly good monologue."
"Thanks," she grinned. She worked hard on it all of last night. "I have something that I think is really going to interest you, Tom. Can I come into the diary?"
He gave her a bemused look. "You couldn't have asked me, I don't know, in the safety of your own dorm?"
She went to retort but tilted her head. He had a point. "Alright, yeah, I could've. Thought this would have been more dramatic though. I think it really sets the scene. Besides, aren't Slytherins supposed to have an air for the dramatics?"
"We're more the sneaky type."
"Tell that to Draco Malfoy." She could list ten separate occasions that Malfoy caused a dramatic scene in this year alone.
"He's a Malfoy," Tom said, like that explained everything. "Right, we're getting off subject here." What was it you wanted to show me?"
She was excited for two reasons. One, she really wanted to see his reaction to her present, and for another, his diary world was incredibly cool. She hadn't visited since the last time— she was always too busy or distracted— and the magic behind it all was really interesting.
She held the diary up to her face and in an instant she felt the familiar feeling of everything spinning around her. She forgot how unpleasant the falling sensation was, but luckily Tom kept her from face planting into the ground again. Although he looked sorely tempted to have let her crash land.
"Right this way, Mr. Riddle," she said in a solemn voice as she led the way to a random classroom. She stopped right outside the door, holding her hand up so Tom couldn't enter yet. "Listen, the events you're about to see may disturb you for many years. They still haunt my dreams to this day."
"It takes quite a bit to scare me, Lucy," he said wryly.
"Don't say I didn't warn you..." She took in a deep breath and then pulled the door open.
They were met with a cluttered, garlic-ridden classroom. It was the same room as Lockhart had, but it looked vastly different here— while Lockhart had portraits of himself lining the walls, gold and purple embedded furniture, this classroom had stuffed and mounted dark creatures lining the walls. Various brains and eyeballs floated in jars, and if they were able to smell, they would have smelled the strings of garlic hanging from the chandelier.
Tom looked at the room appreciatively. "Aside from the garlic, it's not bad."
"There's a stuffed werewolf on the wall," Lucy said incredulously, pointing at it. "That means they killed a human on the full moon."
"Better than if it wasn't transformed," he said, unbothered.
"You're horrible. Anyway!" She played the memory, and suddenly a younger Lucy and Professor Quirrell walked in from behind a display case.
Quirrell held a box in his arms, and with a wave of his wand, two desks turned to face each other. He set the box down and looked at the younger Lucy. "This shouldn't be too hard, then. You've managed nonverbal magic just fine, this should be a cinch."
"Glad to see you've got faith in me, Professor," the girl said, grinning. "So what's in there? Killers? Bees? Killer bees?"
He opened the box and excitedly, she peered into it. Her face fell at the sight.
"Chess? We're playing chess?"
"You don't mean..." Tom looked straight at the real Lucy, stunned. "Lord Voldemort actually taught you chess?"
She whirled around to look at him. "You didn't believe me?" She demanded.
"Of course I didn't believe you, that's insane!"
"Well he did, and very poorly at that!"
Tom looked like someone had just told him he was part goblin.
The memory continued. The younger Lucy sat across from Quirrell, giving the chess board varying looks of dismay. "I thought we were going to steal the Stone, why do I need to know how to play chess?" She said disappointedly.
"Don't question me, just do as you're told," Quirrell said, narrowing his eyes. "Now, what do you know about chess?"
"Not much, I usually make friends with the other chess pieces and they refuse to attack me."
Quirrell genuinely didn't know how to respond to that. He stared at her for a few seconds with wide, incredulous eyes. "Do you really...? Never mind, I do not want to know. That's not going to work with what we're doing— and don't ask what we're doing," he snapped when she opened her mouth to do just that. She huffed and settled back in her chair. He held up a small white piece. "Do you know what this is called?"
"A chess piece," she said blankly.
His hand inched toward his wand.
"Only joking! That's a rook, isn't it?"
"...No," he sighed. "That's a pawn. It can move forward, but it takes out opponents diagonally. Got it?"
She nodded, knowing she'd forget it in a few minutes anyway.
"This one is a rook." He held up a castle-shaped piece. "They can move in any straight line away from them. This one—" he pointed at a horse shaped one. "—is a knight. They move two away from them and one to the side. This one is a Bishop, it moves diagonally. The queen can move in diagonals or straight lines. The king can move one square at a time in any direction."
After he explained how the pieces worked, they began their first match. Only for the younger Lucy to immediately move the pawn the wrong way. Quirrell pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled deeply. "No, the pawn moves forward, not diagonally—"
"You just said it moves diagonally—"
"To attack opponents, let's just reset."
They reset the board, only for her to then move the knight the wrong way. The cycle repeated until she finally, finally knew which way the pieces moved. Except, she didn't know the set up of the grid, and she kept accidentally directing her pieces to the wrong places.
"It looks to me like you're a bad student," Tom said dryly.
"He didn't have to reset it every time!" Lucy said indignantly. "This took us six hours, Riddle. Six bloody hours of chess. It was about halfway through where I think Voldemort comes out."
She sped up the memory and it was a bit entertaining to see Quirrell grow more and more frustrated at a high speed. She couldn't dream of counting how many times he reset the game; it got to the point where he could do it with a flick of his hand. She arrived at the part where the game really began.
Quirrell had given young Lucy the white chess pieces, to at least give her an advantage. She had made only two moves, when suddenly Quirrell exclaimed, "Good Merlin, are you an idiot?" He sounded rather like Tom when he said that and laughing, Lucy paused the memory.
"Do you see that?" She stepped closer and pointed at Quirrell's face.
Sure enough, his eyes had turned a bright red. Back then, Lucy thought it'd just been a trick of the light, but clear as day she could see the two black, snakelike slits where his pupils should have been.
"My... God..." Tom uttered. He was torn between feeling angry and dead inside. "It took a chess match to bring the wrath of Lord Voldemort upon you. Lucy, I think this is a terrible present."
She laughed and patted him consolingly on the arm. "Don't shoot the messenger. And you wanted to know..."
She let the memory resume, and Voldy-Quirrell had his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
"That's already a checkmate, are you even trying?" He hissed. "How am I meant to take over the wizarding world if you cannot even manage a game of chess?"
"That makes a lot more sense in retrospect," Lucy commented.
The younger Lucy looked at Voldy-Quirrell, utterly confused. "I thought we were just going to steal the Philosopher's Stone, but hey, I'm all for ambition, Professor."
He glowered at her and reset the chess board. "You're lucky you're marginally useful, Rochester."
"Would someone useful move her Pawn to A3?"
"No!"
"How did he not kill you..." Tom muttered, watching Voldemort grow angrier and angrier with each passing match.
"I think I got the hang of it right when he was his most frustrated," Lucy smiled a bit remembering it.
If she'd known at the time she was in the same room as Voldemort, she'd have been too terrified to move. But looking back on it, knowing she had bickered with the Dark Lord himself... well, it was a little funny, wasn't it? She had sat in front of a man who planned to take over the world and she played chess with him.
"Have I satisfied your curiosity?" She asked as Voldemort began to calm down. Her younger self managed to perform a good move, the first sign of progress since their nightmare of a night began.
"Most unfortunately." Tom gave her a pained look. "I was certain you lied to me."
"It was a weird year for all of us." She leaned back and really thought about it. "Wow, that was a weird year... found out I was a wizard— a witch, I know, not the point, Tom–" she had to tack on that last part when Tom opened his mouth to correct her. "I went undercover, smuggled a dragon, saw Voldemort drink blood from a unicorn—"
"What? When was this?"
"Just after we smuggled the dragon," Lucy recalled. "We got detention for it, and we had to go to the Forbidden Forest and find a dead unicorn. Bizarre detention if you asked me, and I've had a lot of detentions... Anyway, yeah, I was with Malfoy and heard a noise, stepped off the path–"
"Of course you did," Tom cut in. He pulled her from the room where her younger self and Voldy-Quirrell were frozen, glaring at each other.
"Of course I did," she conceded. She'd do it again; it was rather exciting. Curiosity killed the badger, she supposed. "I came across a clearing and then Voldemort moved past me and started drinking from the unicorn. I don't get it, Tom. Isn't drinking from a unicorn cursing you to a horrible life? Why bother?"
"There are many legends surrounding unicorn blood." He led her toward the Great Hall again, pulling her by her wrist. Despite claiming it was a terrible present, he didn't seem to be in a bad mood. "And yes, drinking it can curse you, but there are ways to undo that curse. Are you telling me, Lucy, that if you were on the brink of death, you wouldn't go to such means?"
Her immediate thought was heck no, but she decided to humor him and think about it... she tried to imagine that she was Voldemort, roaming the earth half alive, unable to attain a body of her own. But even if she had managed such a bizarre fate, the thought of drinking the blood of a creature so pure sent shivers down her spine. The world was filled with darkness already, herself included. Why punish a creature that has done nothing but bring light into the world?
"No, I wouldn't," she concluded.
That wasn't the answer he was looking for. He rolled his eyes like she had said something obscenely childish. "It's you or the unicorn, and you're honestly telling me you'd rather die?" He scoffed.
"It's not that I'd rather die. It's just... well, I believe everything has its time, Tom. I'd try to survive, but I don't think it's really fair to kill something when it hasn't done anything to deserve it."
"What about that troll? You killed it, quite painfully too."
"The troll had already attacked me," Lucy said, annoyed. "And remember, you taught me that spell."
Tom sat at one of the long tables, and he gestured for her to do the same. Although she didn't like this discussion at all, she sat down anyway so as not to annoy him. It was his birthday after all.
"I don't think you were wrong to kill the troll," he said. "The troll had nothing to offer to this world. Neither does the unicorn. They're both simply that— creatures. They're as important as mayflies. There's no reason to make your life harder by refusing to use or discard them as you please."
Secretly, Lucy didn't agree at all. A unicorn, any light creature didn't deserve death. She couldn't imagine slaying one in cold blood just so that she might benefit... the thought made her feel sick.
She also didn't want to argue with Tom on his birthday, so she smiled wryly at him. "How about we never get weak enough so that we have to consider it? I don't know about you, but I think a full life is better than a wretched, half life."
Tom smirked back at her. "I won't have that problem. Given your history of dangerous adventures, I expect you'll have more trouble than I will."
"That's what happens when you're best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived," she joked. "If we're going on a pattern here, I'll probably be face-to-face with this monster by the end of the year."
"Well, if you and your friends would leave the investigating to the professors, your chances would be marginally lower."
"If I leave investigating to a man like Lockhart then I might as well have killed the entire school."
He tilted his head. "Yes, that's fair," he conceded. "So, have you gathered anything yet in your investigations?"
As a whole, they didn't have much so far— but Lucy had a lot of theories floating around in that head of hers. She didn't bother Tom with them; Harry was on the receiving end of most of her theories. Whether they made sense or not, he politely listened, and together they managed to draw up at least a general theory to go off of.
"Well, it's obviously the monster we've really got to worry about," Lucy began. She folded her hands in front of her as if she was a professional figure. Tom's lips quirked upward at the sight. "The Heir can come second, they're the one controlling the monster. It'd be nice to find out who the Heir is in the first place so we don't have to face the monster, but if not, we've at least got to find a way to defeat it. Hermione and I have gathered a list of creatures that aim to petrify people— the thing is, there's loads of magical creatures that can petrify people. I'd like to rule out more than we have, but I can't very well imagine what the hell Salazar Slytherin was thinking. For all I know he could have filled the Chamber with water and set a White River Monster on all the students."
"Those can petrify people," Tom said humorously.
"Exactly," she sighed. "It sucks that they covered up the first time the Chamber was opened; it would have helped loads... Even though it's the Heir of Slytherin, I've looked it up, and Heirs don't have to be in the same house as their ancestors. Honestly, Ron should be doing more of this research. It's not like Hermione and I have any background knowledge on wizard stuff."
"If Weasley tried researching, I think you'd be preparing for a White River Monster after all."
"You don't know Salazar. It could be the big W.R.M., or as we scholars call it, the Worm."
He was so used to her spouting absolute nonsense by now that he simply gave her a patient look. "Lucy, nobody calls it the Worm," he said calmly. "And there's no way a White River Monster has made its way to Hogwarts. It's not the most threatening of creatures."
"You say that now, but it's you who will be terrified when the Worm gets you," Lucy sniffed.
"Stop calling it the Worm," he said sternly.
She kindly ignored him. "Another creature that can petrify people is a Frost Salamander." Tom immediately opened his mouth to call her an idiot, but she pressed on. "Alright, hear me out! So obviously a normal Frost Salamander can only freeze you for a few seconds, right? So get this— a huge Frost Salamander. The Mother of all Frost Salamanders, as big as a Vipertooth."
"And how do you suppose you'll kill this giant Frost Salamander?" He clearly disliked every word that just came out of his mouth.
It took everything she had not to laugh at his sour expression. She made sure her face was absolutely serious as she responded. "With a giant Flame Salamander, of course."
She felt a swirling sensation, and suddenly she was back at the Astronomy Tower, sitting cross-legged on the balcony. Tom stood in front of her looking very disappointed in her. He had his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at her.
"I've heard many strange things in my life, and I've had many strange conversations," he uttered. "But none have troubled me more than the one we just had. We are both going to forget it ever happened, and you will never mention it again. Do you understand?"
She burst out laughing. She couldn't help it, he sounded so serious and distraught. Holding onto the railing, she pulled herself to her feet, trying and failing to hold back her snickers. "I... I can't make any promises, Tom..."
He stared blankly at the stars in hopes that a meteorite might strike the pair of them down.
She followed his gaze, grinning. "Happy birthday, Tom," she said once again. "If it makes you feel better, I bet whatever the other Tom Riddle's doing right now, he's probably having a far worse night."
He let out a loud laugh. She glanced at him to see him hunched over, holding onto the railing. He managed to get ahold of himself but still let out a few chuckles. "You... Lucy, I'm certain he is. And I also know that if he heard half the things you have said to me in this past year, he would have killed you on the spot."
"You might have too, if you could," she giggled.
"I don't think I would have," he mused. He suddenly became aware of the fact that they were out after dark, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure that nobody had heard her. "Alright, we're going back to the common room now."
"Oh, yes. Heaven forbid the Worm get us—"
"Do not."
Most unfortunately, Christmas Break had come to an end. If Lucy thought her last break had been great, it was nothing compared to this year. She had her friends, Mallory, and of course, her dear diary. She almost didn't want to leave her dormitory for the first day of her second term.
Hannah didn't return to their dormitory, and Lucy didn't expect her to. She heard from Anthony that she was bunking with the first years. She didn't care either way. She thought she'd have been more lonely having the dorm to herself, but it was actually quite fun. Now she could talk to Tom freely without having to leave and find a secret spot, and she had fun testing spells on different objects without fear of anyone noticing.
"Where's the smart one of you lot?" Anthony wondered after the second week of Hermione's absence.
It took the students awhile, but now they noticed that their fourth member was missing. Most of the school thought she'd been petrified; Lucy had to hex a few annoying gits who tried to peek through Hermione's curtain.
"The Worm got her," Lucy said gravely.
Harry groaned and put a hand to his forehead. "Don't start with that again!"
Anthony looked confused, so Harry explained, clearly exasperated. "She seems to think that the monster attacking people is the White River Monster, except she calls it the Worm," he complained.
"...But doesn't the White River Monster have to be underwater?"
"Exactly!"
"You two need to be more open minded," Lucy admonished. "With all these attacks, you can never be too careful."
"So if you think this... River Monster... is the attacker, does that mean Hermione's been petrified, then? Do I need to throttle a fish?" Anthony cracked his knuckles at the thought, like he was about to fist fight Salazar's monster.
"No, it's unrelated," Harry assured him. "It's nothing serious. And it's definitely not the Worm."
Lucy pretended like she didn't hear them, smiling pleasantly to herself. She forgot that they were walking through the halls where anyone could hear them, so when Lavender Brown tapped her on the shoulder, she just about jumped out of her skin. She turned to look at the Gryffindor, confused. Thinking back on it, she'd hardly said two sentences to the girl.
"Is it true, that a White River Monster's attacking everyone?" Lavender said in a hushed voice.
Harry glared at Lucy. Don't do it, he seemed to say with his eyes, Don't you dare.
Lucy put on her most fearful expression and whispered back, "Oh, it definitely is... I wouldn't say the name, it attracts the creature... The Worm, we call it... but don't tell anyone, okay? I don't want them to worry."
Lavender wasn't exactly gullible, but Lucy had said it with enough conviction that she looked unsure. She hurried back to Patil's side, deep in thought.
"Lucy, that's evil," Harry sighed. "She's going to tell everyone that now."
Yes, and it was going to be very funny. As most rumors at Hogwarts did, it'd fizzle out in a matter of time. People still looked at her and Harry mistrustfully but they didn't run in the other direction anymore... Well, except for Ernie and Hannah, but that was to be expected considering three of their friends had been petrified at the same time.
"Maybe now they'll stop trying to sneak into the hospital wing," she shrugged.
They stopped in front of a classroom and Lucy stopped to look around. "Uh, where were we going again?"
"I was going to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You followed me."
"Well, what did you let that happen for?" She demanded.
She crouched down and dug through her huge pockets for her schedule and in the process she pulled out a handful of red muggle pens, an old poster for the dueling club, Malfoy's favorite black quill, a potions knife, and a half eaten biscuit.
Harry watched in horror as the objects kept piling up until finally she pulled out her schedule.
"Aha! Potions!" She said proudly. The smile slid from her face as she quickly took Harry's wrist to check for the time on his watch. "Oh no! I'm late for potions!"
She shoveled everything back into her pockets. Harry grabbed her arm before she could pick up the biscuit. "Don't put that back in your pocket, are you insane?!"
"Yeah, are you insane? That's a perfectly good biscuit!" Anthony picked it off the floor and ate it in one bite.
Lucy let out a terrified gasp and reached out her hand to stop him, but it was too late. He had swallowed it. "Anthony, NO! I stole that from Lockhart!" She cried.
The pleased expression on his face melted to one of sheer, unadulterated fear.
"...Did I... Lucy, did I just intake some of L-Lockhart's DNA?" Anthony stammered.
She was too horrified to answer. At that moment, the classroom door swung open and Lockhart stood there beaming at them.
"Playing hooky, you kids?" He chortled, waggling his finger at Harry in particular. "Well, I won't tell anyone. Come in, will you? Have a biscuit!"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Anthony was the same height as Lockhart, so when he screamed, it was directly in his face. After he was finished, he regarded Lockhart calmly and said. "No, thank you, I'm alright." He then walked away like nothing had happened.
Lucy stared after him blankly. She felt like she'd just had a bizarre dream that she'd yet to wake up from.
"I— what?" Lockhart was for once in his life at a loss for words.
She patted him on the arm. "It's better if you don't question it, Professor."
"Um? Lucy?" Harry looked pointedly at the schedule still bunched up in her hand.
She followed his gaze and shrieked. "POTIONS!"
"Potions!" He agreed as she sprinted away, heading straight to the dungeons.
Professor Snape had immediately given Lucy a detention for her lateness and she couldn't exactly blame him. However, she could blame him for sentencing her to polish trophies until God knows when. She swore that Filch dirtied them for the express purpose of students cleaning them...
She'd been at it for an hour at this point and she still wasn't even halfway through. Filch had been smart enough to confiscate her wand, so she couldn't do it with magic. She was glad her pockets had been extended enough to fit the diary inside, even if Tom had been inside all day. He didn't really like listening to Harry more than he could help it, and she'd spent most of the day with her best friend.
"Polishing the trophies while there's a monster on the loose, Snape might as well have slipped me in a noose," Lucy sang to herself as she scrubbed at James Potter's head boy plaque. It was kind of disheartening to hear someone who caused so much mischief fall to a horrible fate such as Head Boy...
"Rotten Roachie's quite the singer!"
Lucy looked up to see Peeves the Poltergeist floating by. Despite his less than flattering nickname, she thought he was a laugh. He often sang 'Potter you Rotter!' Through the corridors as Harry passed by, while she always got, 'Rotten Roachie, Rotten Roachie, killing kiddies 'til she's forty!'
It didn't make very much sense. If she was set on killing children, why would she stop if she was forty? For the retirement benefits? She decided not to comment on Peeves's creative process.
"What can I say, Peeves? You inspire me," Lucy said, laying a dramatic hand over her heart. "Off to cause mischief, I hope?"
"Ah, of course!" He cackled. "What brings you here on this eve, Roachie?"
"Annoying Snape, same as always." She sighed heavily; this had broken her streak of having no detention. If Tom had bothered to leave the diary, he'd have been disappointed. "This is the price we troublemakers have to pay."
An oncoming noise caught both of their attention. Lucy looked over her shoulder and she could see a long shadow approaching off the wall. The torches in the nearby corridor cast it onto the otherwise dim room.
Peeves grinned wickedly at her. "Roachie's off to petrify another kiddie!" He said gleefully.
She scowled at him as he darted out of the room. Peeves was a git.
She paid the shadow no mind and went back to polishing the trophies. She learned the hard way that if she tried to cut corners, Filch would yell at her and she'd be stuck there longer than before. It was better to do a good job the first time so that she could crawl into bed sooner than midnight. Although, since it was approaching ten o'clock, she didn't have much hope.
"My, it's so dark in here that I cannot tell my shoes apart from the floor!"
Lucy would almost prefer if the Heir had snuck up on her. She turned her head just as Professor Dumbledore snapped his fingers, and the chandelier above them lit up the entire room. She winced a bit at the sudden light but otherwise smiled at the Headmaster. She reasoned that just because he was a bit suspicious of her, it didn't mean she should outwardly be a snot to him.
"Hello, Professor," she greeted, waving at him with her polish-coated hand.
"Good evening, Lucy. Another detention, I take it?" His eyes glimmered with amusement as she sighed and nodded.
"Unfortunately. I was on a roll, too." She turned back to the trophies and continued polishing away. By now she had at least reached the corner, and she started on the trophies inside the cabinet. "I simply do not understand how these get so dirty, Professor. It's like they always need to be polished..."
"The castle works in mysterious ways," Dumbledore mused. "I came to see what the noise was, but I am glad I found you here, Lucy. I've meant to thank you for the socks."
She bit her lip to try and keep from grinning, but she failed miserably when Dumbledore hitched up the hem of his robes to reveal hot pink woolen socks. She laughed despite herself. "I thought you'd like them. Although I hope it held up to the expect—" she trailed off. Something in the cabinet caught her attention. "—ations..."
A golden shield had been put in this cabinet, way in the back corner. Through the filth, she could vaguely make out a name. She held her rag up to it and rubbed gently as though she might break it. There was no mistaking it:
Special Service to
the School Award
is presented to one
T.M. Riddle
1942-1943
Her breath caught in her throat. Tom bragged about everything. His magical prowess, his being a prefect, charming the teachers, his Magical Merit medal... Yet she wracked her brain, and for the life of her she could not remember him even alluding to this award.
Professor Dumbledore noticed her pause and he waited pleasantly for her to come to her senses.
"Professor, what does one have to do in order to get a Special Service award?" Lucy said, her eyes glued to the shield. The rest of these sorts of awards were front and center. It was like someone had deliberately moved Tom's to this hidden corner.
"There are several ways, but all of these people have in one way or another saved someone else's life. In my opinion, it is the finest award of all."
So Tom had saved someone's life. Why wouldn't he tell her? It had been in the year 1942-1943, around the time when he'd made this diary.
'Around the time the Chamber of Secrets was first opened,' that brilliant voice in her head reminded. Lucy almost dropped the rag. Of course, how could she have been so stupid? Tom stopped the Heir the last time, he had to have! But what was more troubling was the fact that she had been investigating all this time and he never thought to mention that to her. She hadn't exactly asked him directly if he knew anything, but you'd think that since she'd been researching for ages, he'd have brought forth that piece of information...
"This Tom Riddle... He went to Wool's Orphanage too, didn't he, Professor?" Lucy asked as casually as she could manage.
Dumbledore was quiet for a moment. She turned to look at him. He was still smiling at her, but the look in his eye was less happy than it'd been before. "Yes, yes he did, Lucy."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. She pressed on. "What did he do to get this award, Professor? Whose life did he save?"
"That is a very complicated answer, and I am afraid I cannot tell you right now," he said evenly. "Only a select few professors and the ministry officials around are permitted to know that information. What brought on this curiosity?"
I've only been spending every day with him for the past eight months, she thought wryly. She couldn't exactly say that out loud. "Mrs. Cole mentioned him a lot, said he went to the same school as I did," she said honestly. "She made him sound like a monster, but if he got an award like this... well, he couldn't be all bad, could he?"
"Nobody is a monster, Lucy." Dumbledore's gaze traveled to the chandelier on the ceiling. "But some people come close."
"What do you mean by that?" Lucy's stomach dropped with worry. Was he talking about Tom? Or was he talking about the Heir, who Tom stopped? Or something unrelated entirely? She really wished he'd stop speaking in metaphors, she'd understand a lot more that way.
"All I am saying is that not everything is as simple as it seems." Dumbledore looked at the clock on the wall. It was like someone had flicked a switch, and he was back to his cheerful self. "I think I'll have to cut this detention short, if you don't mind, Lucy. There is simply too much danger for you to stay here at night."
Great, that didn't answer any of her questions.
"Mr. Filch has my wand, Professor—" she began. She stopped short as he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. "Oh, cool, thanks."
Dumbledore escorted her back to her common room. She thought the air would have been more awkward given the evasive conversation they'd just had, but Dumbledore had an uncanny ability to put even the most prickly of people at ease. They discussed classes on the way back and he casually mentioned how Snape had to move to a different office space given the unfortunate sticking charm situation that had overtaken his last one...
"That's inconvenient, Professor, terribly so," Lucy said with a straight face.
"Many things in life are," he mused. They stopped in front of the pile of barrels and he took a step back. "I won't intrude on your secret password, I'm certain Pomana would disapprove. Have a good night, Lucy."
She didn't bother pointing out that as the Headmaster, he probably knew all the passwords of the different houses at all times. "Good night, Professor."
Once he left, she knocked the pattern on the entrance. By now all her house mates had disappeared into their dorms. She followed suit, stepping into her empty dormitory and locking the door behind her. She didn't expect Hannah to ever return as long as the others were petrified but it was better to be safe than sorry.
She changed into her pajamas and then sat atop her head, chin resting atop her hands as she thought about the Special Service award. Surely Tom would have mentioned it... and while Dumbledore hadn't outright said it, he sure alluded to the idea that Tom had not been a stellar student like everyone thought.
She didn't like sitting here in doubt, especially when the diary weighed heavily in her pocket. She'd known Tom for almost a year by now and they spent every single day together, talking. That was a long time. He wasn't the nicest of people but he'd always watched out for her. Helped her with her homework, kept her out of danger, heck he even saw her cry. Only her closest friends Ron and Harry had ever seen her do such a thing. And Dumbledore, but he didn't really count. The point being, she found it painful to doubt Tom when he'd done nothing but help her all this time.
There was an easy solution to that, she remembered. Holding the diary up to her face, she said aloud, "Hey, Tom?"
A few seconds went by before he appeared sitting on the other end of her bed, mirroring her posture. "Been a while," he commented with a smirk.
"Yeah, a whole day, it was agony," she said dramatically. "I got detention just because you weren't there, you know?"
"Of course you did. What for?"
"I was late to Potions, Anthony got scarred for life. You know, the usual." It would have been so easy to pretend like she hadn't had that conversation with Dumbledore at all. But she knew it had to be done, just so it wouldn't weigh on her mind later. "I had to polish the trophies in detention, and I stumbled across a very cool looking shield in the corner," she said pointedly.
Tom's smirk slowly faded.
"Dumbledore told me that a Special Service award means that you've saved someone's life," she continued. "And the date lined up with the last time the Chamber was opened. Dumbledore was awfully dodgy about it, but... Tom... did you catch the last Heir?"
His previously playful look was gone. He straightened up and let out a sigh. "Yes, I was the one who stopped the attacks," he said reluctantly.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Her voice wasn't accusing or anything, she was just genuinely confused as to why he'd keep it to himself. She wanted to understand why, that was all. She of all people could understand wanting to keep some things private, but given all the other details Tom shared with her, it didn't make any sense.
"Because I don't think it's related to the attacks happening now."
She waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. "How do you know that? Who did it last time?" she asked. "There's got to be some sort of lead."
"Lucy, I don't think you want to know who was expelled last time around," Tom sighed.
"Yes I do!" She was practically buzzing with anticipation.
"Well... How about I show you for yourself?"
"Please do," she said, relieved that she was getting an answer after all.
Tom disappeared into the diary. She held it up to her face and leaned it, finding herself in the familiar corridors. She was so excited to get a solid lead on the mystery that she hardly processed her friend's obvious reluctance to show her anything. He didn't have to walk far at all until they arrived at the nearest classroom door. He stopped just outside of it, looking intently down at her again.
"Are you sure you want to see this?"
"Yes, I'm sure!" She said impatiently.
"You may not like what you see," he warned.
She stared at him pleadingly until he sighed, taking his arm away from the door. He allowed her to walk inside and followed closely behind her.
She recognized the scene as Dumbledore's office. The only reason she recognized it was because of the portraits lining the walls; otherwise, it looked completely different from the borderline antique shop Dumbledore kept. Behind the large, imposing desk was another old wizard, but he couldn't look more different from Dumbledore. This man was frail and balding, and he was hunched over his desk reading a letter.
If she wasn't so focused on watching the scene, she might have made fun of the way he paced the room for a minute before sitting down again. This was definitely a man who could be pushed over easily.
A sharp knock rang at the door, and in a weak voice the Headmaster said, "Enter."
Another Tom Riddle entered the room, removing his hat as he did. Lucy looked between her Tom and the memory one. It was pretty bizarre seeing two of them in the same room.
"Don't worry, you wore it better," she assured Tom.
His demeanor remained serious but he couldn't help but send her an annoyed look. She grinned and took that as a victory.
"Ah, Riddle." While anxious, the Headmaster managed a genuine smile.
"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" the memory Riddle feigned nervousness. It looked awfully authentic but she'd spent enough time around him to know that he didn't get nervous. If he was unsure about something, he became irritated, nothing more and nothing less.
"Sit down," Dippet gestured to the seat in front of the desk. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."
"Oh..." Riddle sank into the chair. His knuckles were white as he clasped his hands in his lap. Yep, he was definitely on edge.
"My dear boy, I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer." Dippet tried to sound kind but there was no way those words could have been anything less than crushing. "Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"
"Ugh," Lucy frowned. She never thought to ask to stay over summer break but it was a rather clever idea now that she thought about it. Not that Dumbledore would ever dream of allowing such a thing. Maybe if Lockhart was the Headmaster...
"No," Riddle said quickly. "I'd much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that- to that -"
"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?"
Riddle's cheeks turned slightly red. Tom would likely whack her for it, but if she was in his time, she'd have liked to give him a hug. "Yes, sir," he said tightly.
"You are Muggle-born?"
He turned even redder. Less with shame this time, more with annoyance. "Half-blood, sir. Muggle father, witch mother."
"And both your parents -?"
"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me - Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."
"I've always thought your name was kind of enchanting," Lucy told Tom. It flowed together well, and while she loved her name as Lucille Rochester, it wasn't as shiny as it could have been. She sort of chose it on the spot.
"Thanks," he said wryly. "Now pay attention and stop interrupting."
"The thing is, Tom," Dippet began sympathetically. "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."
"You mean all these attacks, sir?" Riddle said quickly.
"Precisely. My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in the light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer to locating the— er— source of all this unpleasantness..."
Lucy wondered if Tom would have been in more danger at the orphanage, what with all the air strikes going on in London. It had been during the second World War, after all.
"Sir, if the person was caught..." Riddle began. "If it all stopped..."
"What do you mean?" Dippet sat up straight in his chair, gripping the arms of it tightly. "Do you mean you know something about these attacks?" he said eagerly.
"No, sir."
"Liar!" Lucy said dramatically.
"Thanks," Tom said sarcastically.
She gave him a sheepish grin. She hadn't meant to sound so accusatory. "Sorry, but that's exactly how I sounded to Dumbledore. Takes a liar to spot a liar, you know?"
"Watch what happens next, will you?" he said irritatedly.
They followed Tom out of the Headmaster's office, through the twisting corridors. Riddle was clearly deep in thought as he bit his lip, pacing back and forth. He must have finally come to some sort of conclusion as he set off down the corridors. He was stopped by the younger Dumbledore; his beard had gotten even longer since she saw him in Tom's orphanage memory, and she realized that sadly, he must not have grown it since the moment he came out of the womb.
"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?" Dumbledore wasn't as good with hiding his suspicion as he was now.
Riddle grit his teeth before turning around to face the professor. "I had to see the headmaster, sir."
"Well, hurry off to bed. Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..." Dumbledore trailed off with a deep sigh.
Riddle waited until he was sure Dumbledore had walked away before he quickly turned toward the dungeons. He was moving so fast that it was kind of hard for Lucy to keep up. Obviously Tom did just fine, he was Riddle after all, and he had to turn to give her several impatient looks.
"I have shorter legs than you!" she scowled at his accusing look.
"For Merlin's sake," Tom rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist, tugging her along. "If you miss the most important part of this memory, I swear..."
Riddle stepped into the potions classroom, and he waited just behind the door, watching through the crack. Lucy waited for something epic to happen. Maybe the Worm would appear in a flash of blue smoke, or a vampire would emerge from the shadows... but nothing. After five minutes of waiting Lucy turned to stare blankly at Tom.
"I sure am glad we hurried for this."
"It seemed faster when I was doing it," he scowled.
It had to have been an hour until finally, finally there was a movement from the other end of the corridor. Lucy had resorted to sitting on the ground, counting the stones on the wall. She quickly got to her feet as Riddle exited the classroom. He was so quiet, so sneaky that she imagined he could have given invisibility cloaks a run for their money... She was impressed.
There was a sound of a door creaking, then a hoarse voice. "C'mon... gotta get yeh outta here... C'mon now... in the box..."
Something in Lucy's gut twisted. It couldn't be...
Riddle jumped around the corner, standing before the huge boy crouching in front of a large box.
"Evening, Rubeus," he said sharply.
"No way..." she whispered.
"This is why I didn't want to mention it," Tom sighed, seeing her expression fall.
Riddle stepped closer to the younger Hagrid. "It's all over. I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop. I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and—"
"It never killed no one!" Hagrid backed against the door.
"Come on, Rubeus," Riddle said, advancing further. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."
"It wasn't him! He wouldn'! He never!"
Lucy would have liked to believe him, but she distinctly remembered the time where Hagrid thought a dragon would make a good house pet in a wooden cabin. He didn't mean for anyone to get hurt, but...
"Stand aside." Riddle pulled out his wand and the corridor was filled with a burning orange light. The door behind Hagrid blasted open with enough force that it sent the huge boy crashing into the other side of the narrow corridor. Creeping, crawling out of the corridor came a huge, clicking Acromantula.
Lucy could now understand why Ron was terrified of spiders. She knew they were big, but not that big...
The spider rammed into Riddle before he could wave his wand again, scuttling around the corner. He quickly got to his feet again and his face reddened, angry that he'd let it escape. He raised his wand again when Hagrid leapt onto him, grabbing his wand as he threw him to the floor again.
And she knew it was Hagrid and he was only concerned for his beloved pet... but seeing him violently throw Tom to the ground made her want to burn something.
In an instant, she was sitting back on her bed in her dormitory.
She sat there numbly for a good minute. She didn't know what to think. Tom stood leaning against the wall, eyeing her reaction until she finally looked up at him. "And... they expelled him then? I didn't think Acromantulas could petrify people..."
"Acromantulas are so dangerous that their properties are unknown and varied," Tom countered. His gaze turned toward the skylight on the ceiling, looking out at the pitch black sky. "Hagrid was well meaning, but as I said before, monsters do not make good pets. I highly doubt he is behind the attacks this year, but there's always a possibility."
"I'm going to have to tell the others," Lucy realized numbly. She groaned, they didn't believe her about Quirrell, who was a complete stranger. There was no way they'd believe Hagrid opened the Chamber last time around... "How am I supposed to explain any of this? I don't have any proof and I don't suppose you'd let me show them the diary—"
"Absolutely not," he said sharply. She expected that reaction. "Why don't you find Hagrid's records? The ministry can brush anything they want under the rug, but it's illegal to get rid of school records. I'm sure if you look through Filch's office, the details of both my award and his expulsion will be in there."
Lucy nodded. That was as good of a plan as any. She couldn't tell them until she found the records, but that wasn't a bad thing in her eyes... the further she could put it off the better. Hagrid was her friend, he was so kind, she didn't want to tarnish his reputation for anything.
Tom came over to her bed and he sat down on the edge of it. He offered her a smile, a far cry away from his previously serious demeanor. "I'm glad you asked me about this instead of jumping to conclusions— Dumbledore couldn't have made me sound very good in your eyes."
"No, he really didn't." Lucy felt herself grow irritated thinking about it.
He compared Tom to a monster. She wouldn't call him a hero or anything— he may have turned Hagrid in, but how long must he have known about his pet before he decided to apprehend him? Until Hogwarts had closed down. The point being, Tom wasn't a hero, but he also wasn't rotten. How could he be when everything he did was aimed at helping her? Not only her, but her friends as well, like when Harry had been knocked unconscious and he told her the spell to revive him. He wasn't a monster, he was a human being the same as everyone else, and he was her friend.
"I figured he wouldn't," Tom said dryly. He shook his head. "Still, thank you for trusting me, Lucy. Festering doubt tends to eat you up from the inside, doesn't it?"
"You're telling me," she huffed. "Well now I've got festering doubt about Hagrid, so nothing's really changed much... But..." Her eyes lit up as she realized something. "Now we know the person who died last time was a girl. Maybe she has relatives descended from her or something... They could be seeking revenge, or—" She caught Tom's blank stare and hid a smile. "Right. You're not Harry. I'll save the theories for tomorrow."
"Please do."
It wasn't perfect, but at least she had more of a lead now. She never thought to research Acromantulas. They'd been the last creature she would have bothered with, behind cornish pixies. Although she itched to find the records right away, a glance at the clock told her it was well past the time where she should have gone to bed.
Tom disappeared back into the diary, and she tucked it under her pillow in her usual hiding place. Its presence, paired with the silence of her dorm, quickly pulled her into a deep state of calm.
Then she whispered, "I still think it's the Worm."
A heavy sigh rang through the room, and it was quiet for the rest of the night.