Chapter 87

Oh, What A Tangled Web We Weave

"Tom!" called the voice from behind him.

Tom stopped walking and scowled, vexed at the interruption. However, he made sure that his face bore no signs of annoyance when he turned.

"Professor Slughorn," he exclaimed, a fake smile of delight on his lips. He stood patiently, waiting for the overweight Potions master to waddle up the corridor and reach him. "I had no idea that you were behind me, Sir."

In reality, he'd seen Slughorn locking a classroom door with his back to the corridor and hurried quickly past. Since he'd become a prefect, the teachers often called on him to perform errands; it was a role that he didn't usually mind – it gave you a good excuse to go into parts of the castle you weren't normally allowed – but tonight he could do without it. He had homework due to be handed in tomorrow and had been disgruntled to find that even Malfoy had completed his essay. Now, all Tom wanted to do was find a quiet spot in the library and finish his work.

"I'm so glad that I bumped into you, Tom," Slughorn said rather breathlessly from hurrying.

Tom suppressed a groan. Sluggy wanted something. Hoping that it would be something vague like, 'be nice to the first-years', Tom asked, "Can I be of help, Professor?"

Slughorn's round face beamed. "How kind of you to offer."

Tom maintained the fixed smile. Kindness had nothing to do with it, the shiny Headboy badge was.

Slughorn continued, "Professor Merrythought asked me to search out another dummy for her duelling class to use – she's concerned there might be odd numbers. I need help with the box."

"Of course sir." Tom silently cursed. Why didn't Slughorn just reduce the box's size, levitate or, better still, get the elves to take it up there? Now he'd need to take it in and he'd purposely been avoiding the class in case Merrythought spotted him and forced him to duel. There was nothing wrong with his duelling skills, but he'd prefer to keep that skill private. Not to mention, Buffy might be there... and Caradoc. The image of those two batting spells at one another didn't make him happy – not unless they were trying to kill each other. His mind became more genuine. That he'd pay to watch.

"Tom?" Slughorn repeated, looking at him expectantly.

Salazar! Why was it that whenever he thought of Buffy his mind drifted into a daydream? Is this what had happened to his mother? That she'd become so besotted by the Muggle, Tom Riddle, that her mind had completely gone? He could almost hear Malfoy's voice in his head saying, 'when you have an itch, Tom, you'll find it has to be scratched'. He didn't have time to scratch itches or act on any other gems of Malfoy's wisdom, he was a budding Dark Lord!

"I'm sorry, Sir, I missed what you said," he admitted.

"I said, the dummy is just down here, in the next classroom."

Tom nodded, and they walked together, the soles of their shoes echoing down the stone corridor.

Slughorn broke into his thoughts. "You are quiet. Woolgathering about someone who's taken your fancy?" he asked shrewdly.

Tom looked up alarmed.

Slughorn nudged his arm and gave him a sly look. "There's nothing wrong with liking someone like that, you know. We've all been there."

Tom felt nauseous. The fat professor wasn't going to tell him about his love life, was he?

"I know you've been getting on well with Malfoy, recently," finished Slughorn, his voice heavy with meaning.

Malfoy?! What? Malfoy? Dumbledore! It had to be! He'd told Slughorn that he'd found him and Malfoy rolling around in the corridor after Malfoy had been chased by a Dementor-boggart. He could kill Malfoy for this! No, Dumbledore! He'd kill Dumbledore, Malfoy had his uses. Dumbledore deserved to die for spreading false rumours... It had been obvious that Malfoy was upset that night. The nosy old professor had twisted the story so that it looked as if he and Malfoy couldn't keep their hands off each other.

He bit back the wave of anger and tried to force a shy smile past rigid lips. The blush tinting his pale cheeks was real. "I..." he began, then decided it wasn't a good thing to hedge. Better to put the rumour that he preferred boys to bed. "Malfoy is... a good friend to me," he declared. "As for the fairer sex, sir," he replied, with a carefully contrived keen but earnest expression. "There are girls I do think of a little too much..." he trailed off, looking a little shamefaced.

Professor Slughorn gave an understanding nod. "I was once a teenager, too, Tom."

Tom swallowed, hoping that the teacher wouldn't want to tell him the gruesome details. "Er, yes? On this occasion, I was only thinking of my homework. Professor Babbling has set a rather difficult essay and I still haven't completed it." He eyed Slughorn's profile and decided to press his luck. "Could you recommend any books on Ancient Runes? I thought the Restricted Section might have something interesting?"

"Oh, you'll need to ask Professor Babbling about that," Slughorn replied, annoyingly brushing off the suggestion. He stopped at a doorway. "The trunk is just behind the door. I'll wait here while you get it."

….

Tom kept thinking about the butcher's donkey. Whenever the donkey appeared in the street – dragging the butcher's overladen cart behind it – the local children had rushed outside to pet it. Tom had never paid much attention to the donkey, but today, he knew exactly how that animal felt. He'd been forced to walk just ahead of Slughorn – like the butcher's donkey – but instead of a cart load of meat he was burdened with an awkwardly-shaped trunk.

Slughorn had graciously cast a Lightening Charm on the container, but not on the duelling dummy itself, citing that doing so might adversely react to any future spells cast on it. Now, four floors up and with aching arms, Tom was ready to kill his favourite professor. So when Slughorn was hailed from a side corridor by another teacher, it came as a relief. They stopped; Tom rested the box on the floor and rubbed at his sore upper arms.

"Are you two off to Galatea's?" Albus Dumbledore asked. He gave Tom the barest nod of acknowledgement and Tom took it as a slight.

"Indeed we are," Slughorn answered.

Tom sulked silently.

"Might I have a word, Horace?" Dumbledore asked. "I've been in London most of the day, missed dinner, and the Headmaster has only just informed me about today's events. He suggested that I speak to you as someone I know is involved."

A little confused, Slughorn rocked back on his heels before exclaiming, "Oh, yes! I'd forgotten about your interest in the Lovegoods. Miss Summers was involved!"

Dumbledore visibly winced. Tom's eyes darted between the two professors. Malfoy had already told him about this. At the time, he'd been busy with the rest of the prefects checking for damage in the bathroom (his damage, he'd gotten a little over-eager in searching for the Secret Chamber and become rather careless with his Repairing Charms – he'd had a lot on his mind).

Both professors gave Tom a side glance. Tom dropped his head, keeping still and silent, and hoping they'd talk freely in front of him.

"Tom, run along to Miss Merrythought's classroom," said Slughorn. "She's waiting for the dummy I promised her."

The wording was unfortunate and Tom, always sensitive to insults, reddened when he spotted the quirk on Dumbledore's lips. Embers of resentment glowed inside him. Dumbledore had always disliked him, he thought it amusing that he'd be mistaken for a dummy.

To cover his anger, Tom bent down to pick up the trunk. When the hand reached out to touch his forearm and stop him, he looked up and inadvertently caught Dumbledore's eye. What did Dumbledore see? A petulant young boy or something darker? Tom gritted his teeth and looked away.

"I can help you, Tom."

Tom regarded Dumbledore suspiciously as he pulled a Lemondrop wrapper from his pocket and threw it onto the floor. Then, with a quick spiral flick of his wand, he muttered an incantation too low for Tom to hear. Tom watched, fascinated, as the wrapper uncurled and transfigured itself into a trolley – similar to those used at Kings Cross station.

"There, that should be easier for you. Put the trunk on top. That's right. Now, run along and take the dummy to Professor Merrythought."

Tom nodded and gave the trolley an experimental push. It rolled forward, but the front wheel let out a squeak. He glanced at Dumbledore, expecting him to take out his wand and fix it, only to see him turn his head away.

Realisation dawned. The crafty old buggar!

Dumbledore hadn't been trying to help him! The squeaky wheel had been created on purpose so that they could keep track of him – even when out of sight they'd know where he was. Not bothering to hide his scowl, Tom walked away, pushing the squeaking trolley in front of him. He'd have to go straight to Merrythought's room. There would be no waiting just out of sight and eavesdropping on the professors' conversation.

…..

Once Tom Riddle had gone, Dumbledore led Slughorn into a nearby room and took a seat at the teacher's desk. Horace transfigured a chair into something more comfortable and sat with his hands rested on the top of the desk.

"It's been a rum do today, Albus. A rum do indeed," Slughorn said shaking his head

"What exactly happened?" Dumbledore asked. He'd barely stepped out the floo when Dippet had called him up to his office with garbled talk of suspensions and possible expulsions. Buffy's name had come up and his heart lurched. What had she done this time? Wherever she went, she seemed to attract the maximum amount of trouble, reminding him of someone else that he knew.

Then the Headmaster said the fateful words... Buffy was accused of being a Grindelwald follower. That almost did give him a heart attack. Dippet though had waved off his horror. 'You'll need to ask Slughorn for the details,' he'd said. 'I'm more concerned with Dorothea Parkinson.' That young lady was up in the infirmary, heavily sedated after becoming almost hysterical.

Slughorn tutted, and shook his head. "This has not been a good day for us Slytherins, no it hasn't. First the Common Room was desecrated and now this."

Dumbledore frowned. "Desecrated? Whatever do you mean?"

"There's the most beautiful, architecturally important fireplace in our Common Room. It was designed and commissioned by Salazar Slytherin himself. Someone has damaged one of the carvings." He shook his head again, visibly upset. "For centuries, the animated carved snakes have struck and bitten at every student who came in range." Seeing Dumbledore's shock, he blustered, "It's usually just the first years and it barely breaks the skin! No one dies!"

"I'm very pleased to hear it," Dumbledore mumbled back.

"No one has come forward and admitted blame and as we don't have a Parselmouth – to question the snake – we might never find out the culprit."

"Terrible, just terrible," murmured Dumbledore sympathetically. His mind had gone straight to Tom Riddle. He'd never said anything to Slughorn about Tom being able to speak to snakes. If the boy had wanted people to know, he'd have told them.

"I suspect it's the work of a first year," Slughorn added. "They'd tried to hide the damage by sticking the head back on with strawberry jam."

Dumbledore choked on a laugh. He quickly covered it by clearing his throat. "Dear me! Strawberry jam, you say?"

Slughorn nodded. "Not a very good sticking agent. It must have been done in panic. They'd attached the head at an odd angle," continued Slughorn morosely. "When I examined it, the head fell off at the slightest touch. I've made a temporary fix, but we'll need a good stonemason who can repair it back to its original condition. A Slytherin stonemason. We can't have a non-Slytherin in there. Oh, no. That wouldn't do at all."

"I'm sorry to hear of your trouble, Horace. What happened with the book?"

"Oh, that." Slughorn appeared more bothered by the broken snake than the fact one of his students had been found with a book on blood purity. "Dorothea Parkinson came to me, she claimed that Buffy had a book in her possession written by Grindelwald."

Dippet had told Dumbledore much the same. He said, heavily, "'Rarity' is one of Grindelwald's most popular books on why the Purebloods should hold sway over all others. I do know it." Sadly he'd also had a hand in the ideas that lay behind it. Not one of his finer moments.

Slughorn sucked at his teeth. "I think most of us know the book. The Ministry might not like it, but..." He shrugged, leaving the sentence unfinished. The book had been widely circulated before the Ministry had banned it and most people had either heard of it or read it.

With a sigh, Slughorn went on, "When Dorothea was able to describe the book's cover, I had no choice but to investigate further. I knew that Buffy was with Professor Trelawney, so I asked one of the House-elves to transport Miss Summers' trunk to my office and then left instruction for Buffy to my office the moment she returned."

"And her trunk? Didn't you try to open it?"

"I did. And because I used the wrong Opening Charm my face was sprayed with green dye."

"Oh dear," said Dumbledore. "I see you managed to remove it."

Slughorn nodded. "I had to use a Cleansing Potion."

"And then you opened her trunk?"

"Oh, goodness no! The activation of the Burglar Charm activated a second, more unusual Ward. That blocked all chance of opening the trunk, not without blowing it apart." Dumbledore saw vexation and a tinge of awe in Slughorn's face.

"Unusual?" prompted Dumbledore, intrigued. A booby-trapped trunk was not unexpected. He'd used something similar in his third year to protect his privacy from the other students.

"The new Ward was unexpectedly strong." Slughorn hedged, clearly not wanting to discuss it.

"In what way?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Ah, you see, the Ward could only be deactivated when a drop of Buffy's blood was placed on the lock."

"Oh." So that was why Slughorn was so put out! Blood magic was one of the oldest forms of magic and one many were too wary of using due to its Darker connotations. That it had been used to Ward a trunk didn't surprise him. Warding was linked to ownership, and what better way to establish possession of a place or object than by linking it to your blood?

"The Ministry disapproves of the use of blood magic," said Slughorn heavily.

"But not in Warding," Dumbledore argued. "I doubt a Minister would blink an eye if a Wardmaster asked for a drop of their blood to set a Ward on their house or office."

After a moment, Slughorn agreed. "I suppose not," he said. "It was just a surprise that she'd used the spell. Not only is she new to magic, but the Muggleborn rarely think of using blood."

"She's hardly a Muggleborn!" Dumbledore exclaimed before wincing. That hadn't come out as he'd meant it. It was just... he could well imagine her father's reaction if he heard Buffy described as a Muggleborn.

Of course, there was still the chance he wouldn't care. That he might not officially recognise her as his daughter. He had virtually ignored her when he thought her a Squib, but only a couple of months ago another large amount of gold had appeared in Joyce's vault without explanation. Then there was the broomstick Buffy had received publicly. Dumbledore felt sure that had come from him. It made him nervous and even now he was stalling rather than giving back the broom. What if it was a Portkey? He'd used several Revealing Charms and hadn't uncovered anything, but he knew how devious the man was when he wanted something... or someone.

As for Buffy's mother... Joyce was on edge, justifiably nervous that HE would make a dramatic appearance and whisk Buffy away. Frustrated, Dumbledore bit the inside of his cheek. If only the woman had been this nervous when she'd first met him, then none of this would have happened. Although that was hardly fair. Who was he to judge? Hadn't he also been swept along by the man's charisma?

"You're right, of course," said Slughorn. "When I used the term Muggleborn, I was thinking more of her upbringing than her blood status. You know I've never cared about parentage, Albus. She's a surprising young woman and I'm looking forward to seeing her at my dinners." The chair creaked as Slughorn leaned back and adjusted his waistcoat over his belly.

Dumbledore blinked and then remembered they'd been discussing Buffy and not Joyce. "Have you? I'm sure Buffy will enjoy it. What was in her trunk? Dippet told me Grindelwald's book was not in there. Was there anything... that should not be?"

Slughorn shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. "Nothing remotely dangerous." He gave a small laugh. "Unless you count a book of fairy stories she's reading."

"Beedle The Bard?" Dumbledore asked, his mind instantly moving to the story of the Three Brothers. Gellert had always been fascinated by that one and he knew why.

"No. It seems that she just likes to read about the Fae." He went on, "She looked me in the eye and said, 'Professor, Slughorn, I don't own one of Grindelwald's books, I've never owned a Grindelwald book, and I'm not interested in blood purity. I think it's crazy."

Dumbledore stilled. "Those were her exact words? That she didn't own or owned a Grindelwald book'?"

Slughorn cocked his head. "Yes. Why? Is it significant?"

Dumbledore quickly shook his head. "It's nothing, Horace." But he was thinking, likely it was. She didn't have to own a Grindelwald book to read it.

"Buffy told me she'd happily drink Verruca potion so that I knew she was telling the truth." He chuckled. "I told her, 'I hope you're joking. Veritaserum is the truth serum, Verruca potion you rub onto your feet."

"Quite." Dumbledore couldn't help wondering if the mix-up had been done on purpose, to disarm Slughorn's suspicions.

Slughorn finished chuckling. "She asked me her accuser's name, but I refused to say." Slughorn looked down at his clasped hands. "I can't blame her for wanting to know. I'd be very annoyed if I'd been falsely accused."

"And Dorothea?" Dumbledore asked.

"Ah. Abraxas Malfoy came to me shortly after Buffy left the office. He said that he wouldn't normally snitch on a Housemate but after they'd done it to Buffy, he thought it his duty to inform me that Dorothea was the one with the Grindelwald book. He also said that the Parkinson girls are jealous of Buffy and are out to cause trouble for her."

"Did he now?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. Malfoy had never been very friendly with Buffy. A teacher's instinct told him something here didn't quite add up. "How did he know about the book?"

"He'd overheard them talking. Of course, when I examined Dorothea's trunk I found it at the bottom, along with several pamphlets advocating the removal of Muggleborns from the Ministry. Dorothea burst into tears when she saw them there and I immediately called the Headmaster."

"Is her trunk kept locked?" Dumbledore asked.

"Oh yes. An expensive locking charm along with an alarm," Slughorn verified. "What are your thoughts?"

"Could anyone have heard Buffy was going to be accused and transferred the book over?"

Slughorn shook his head. "How? Only they knew Buffy had been accused, Buffy's trunk was with me the entire time. The Parkinsons had spent most of their time in their room so would have noticed someone transferring a book over."

"Hmm." Had the Parkinsons' jealousy backfired on them? "The Parkinson girls, what do you make of them, Horace?"

Slughorn fiddled with the buttons on his waistcoat. "Not a lot, I'm afraid. Mediocre Witches at best."

It echoed Dumbledore's own thoughts. "I'm going to suggest a suspension to the Headmaster. Not only did Dorothea have banned material in her possession but she lied to her Housemaster in order to get another student in trouble. I don't think it yet warrants expulsion, but if she continues down this course there will be no other option for her. Do you agree, Horace?"

Slughorn nodded, standing slowly. "I do. I'm sorely disappointed that a member of my House has stooped this low."

'And been caught up in their own web of lies,' Dumbledore silently added.

"Fancy watching Merrythought's duelling class, Albus?" Slughorn asked, changing the subject.

Dumbledore smiled and rubbed his hands. "Always good to see the next generation in action. Let's go."

…...

A/N;

Thank you so much to those who left a review/comment/feedback on the last chapter!

Merrythought's duelling class is coming next. Then we will see Tom becoming more and more frustrated until his anger explodes. LOL. You are (hopefully) going to enjoy that one.

Don't forget to leave a comment, no matter how small as it is appreciated.