[START]
Picaro Redux
Chapter 2:
Tulip Gaunt was not someone Albus Dumbledore intended on discovering. A truly fascinating young woman he had stumbled upon whilst searching for… something else.
His surprise with how their paths crossed (as well as her existence in of itself) stemmed mostly from the fact that, when directed to investigate the Chamber of Secrets itself, she wasn't the individual he had been expecting to find at the end of the long trail.
A young woman, looking to be in her mid-to-late teens, of average height and slim build for her suspected age group. Her most striking features:
Her hair, a long mane that fell to her hips, that started as black at the roots before slowly transitioning to a deep crimson halfway to the tips.
The smattering of freckles on her skin, the dark brown dusting on her face (and exposed chest and shoulders) standing out starkly against the pale, seemingly sun-deprived, skin.
With the most striking features being her eyes. Identical in shape, shade and the piercing intensity of their gaze to one other person alive. The one who, in turn, inheriting those eyes from his mother.
Shortly after Harry had handed the cursed diary of Tom Riddle to him, inert and severely damaged, Fawkes issued his first slew of warnings. Had Dumbledore responded to them, who knows how history would have known the years to come. However, Albus Dumbledore calmed his familiar with a gentle hand and instead discovered that his long-time friend was injured.
Not so stricken that he needed to burn, but his mobility and power had taken a toll. So, as Fawkes cawed and screeched, Albus (embarrassingly in hindsight) misinterpreted his warning as pain and discomfort. Thus, ever the kindly friend, he administered some potions and charms to his phoenix familiar that effectively sedated the bird for a time.
Later, to his surprise and chagrin, he was quite angrily assaulted when Fawkes awakened. Grogginess replaced by a vicious sense of urgency, stunning the Headmaster (deep into researching the remaining wisps of black, evil lingering on the diary) when he was deposited in the dark, dank underbelly of the castles most carefully hidden location.
His attention was quickly drawn away from the ancient wonder of magical architecture (and even the slowly rotting corpse of the mighty basilisk his student had bested) as he IMMEDIATELY realised, with dawning horror that Fawkes smugly endorsed, EXACTLY what he could sense. The frayed edges of magic hanging in the air telling a story that turned his stomach,
"He succeeded, didn't he?" Fawkes nodded, but Dumbledore's sub-vocalised question had been directed to no one in particular. His wand having weaved a path of glittering fairy lights through the stale air, each pulsing and glowing with differing degrees of intensity. Their patterns forming a message only he, the castor, could determine; the lights indicating the remains of a ritual in the air.
To Dumbledore's trained eye, its intention was clear.
And for the next seventy-two hours, from when Dumbledore discovered the remnants until he sat beside an injured and glaring teenager, did the Hogwarts Headmaster believe his worst fears were a reality:
Lord Voldemort was alive and walking amongst them once more…
.
.
Tulip.
A pretty flower name, in tribute to Harry's mother.
It was a start.
A start to an identity she was piecing together as she worked through a bag of pork scratchings on the floor of a room in the Leaky Cauldron.
She hadn't decided on a last name yet, but when she'd booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron last night, Tulip had been what she meekly offered to the sympathetic man behind the bar. The girl still riding the wave of smug satisfaction at the foresight she'd had to punch herself several times in the face before she'd "staggered" into the Leaky Cauldron.
'Though the wound from the Willow would likely have been sufficient.'
Turns out, on closer inspection, the sparse coin purse she'd finessed from the handsy drunkard had enough for a few nights at the inn. But a bedraggled, barefoot teenager (teary eyed and with quickly developing cut and bruises on her face) blubbering her way through asking for a room was enough to pull on the heart strings of Tom the innkeeper. Thus, she didn't have to pay for her room at all.
Granted, the room she was sequestered away in was no penthouse suite: the mirror had a few choice remarks about the pallor of her skin and there was a veritable colony of spiders in the cupboard under the sink; she would leave a hefty tip once she had that kind of money to throw around.
But that involved getting more Galleons, the plan being to first: get some before she committed to paying anything at all to her generous host.
She was more than happy to try a few… unscrupulous methods to get herself some gold. Though she knew better than to prey on the inebriated magicals again. As when she'd looked at her self-inflicted injury in the mirror (and reflected on the grim echoes of that mans hands on her breasts and hips) she realised how easily she got off the night before, not looking to take that sort of risk again until she was in a better position.
Part of that better position meant she needed a proper identity; Tulip was all she had.
'No, that's a lie' She shook her head, scratching the back of her head as she crunched on the last of the bag. Only then clocking that her first meal alive was a bag thrown her way by a pitying innkeeper, 'Yeah, that was a lie. I've decided I'm fifteen.'
When she'd looked herself up and down properly in the bathroom mirror, she'd been left wondering how old she should pretend to be. Clearly in her mid to late teens and needing to act as such. Unfortunately, as Harry and Ginny were yet to reach thirteen, leaving her only point of reference was a charismatic teenage psychopath, suffering from megalomania and having no regard for human life.
And he was a guy, not exactly helpful for 'blending in'.
Her mind returned to gold, eyes flicking to that coin purse of hers. It was now empty, but only because she'd poured the contents out onto the bed to count-up what she was dealing with.
Sixteen Galleons and eight Knuts; not terrible, but not impressive. Especially since that came with a wand too, even if it now sat stubbornly inert on the bedside table.
'I need a wand of my own.' A thought accompanied by a pout. Early morning wand work had successfully conjured her some shoes and socks, had left the shirt a size too large when resizing it and had inflicted a nasty burn on her stomach when a Warming Charm had been utilised.
She'd keep a hold of the… finicky… wand for as long as it took to get another one. But she wouldn't be attempting another theft of one unless she turned desperate, now seeing why she needed one ACTUALLY bonded to her.
Ginny's wand had taken a good five or six minutes, Ollivander bustling around the blushing girl to find a wand that could handle her 'volatile spirit'.
Tom's was a longer process, Ollivander (though he was a much younger, brighter eyed man) had been filled with a mighty amount of trepidation. His visible reluctance growing with every failed wand until he placed the Yew and Phoenix feather item in the smiling boy's hands. It released a burst of bright white and beautiful music. The wandmaker had taken it from the boy afterwards and only begrudgingly handed it back over…
And though Harry's had been treated more as a challenge than a threat, he was still subject to searing curiosity (and a healthy level of wariness) when the Dark Lord's brother wand had eventually found its way into his possession.
Tulip sighed, wondering if she'd be just as difficult a client to the great wandmaker as her "parents" had been.
Crossed legged on the floor, Tulip paused.
'Parents, huh?' She cupped her chin, propping up her leg so she could lean her elbow against her knee, humming thoughtfully as she pondered, 'Progenitors may be more accurate…'
She snickered, flaring a set of pearly whites to the empty room as she grinned,
'But it's funnier to have a twelve-year-old mommy and daddy. As well as an evil, undead donor dad.'
She giggled, an 'evil' giggle of course, somewhat hysterical in her amusement. Tulip absently imagining the horrified confusion on all three of their faces if they ever learned of her existence.
Only to be left with the sobering thought that she could NEVER let Voldemort know exactly what she was. His reaction not something she could predict, but it would NOT be anything good or beneficial.
The nightmarish images her imagination gifted her with was enough to put her mind back on task. Tulip now wondering if it was even a smart idea to head to Ollivanders for a wand.
Granted, she needed one that would respond to her (the same way her 'parents' did to them) as her pilfered one was a hair above useless. But she wasn't confident that any cover story she concocted for the purchase of a wand, whilst not looking eleven, would hold up under scrutiny.
.
KNOCK, KNOCK!
A disturbance that had Tulip snapping her head to the doorway. Of course, she wasn't expecting anyone, thus she rolled to her feet and snatched up the semi-useless wand before she called,
"Come in?" Initially cursing herself for sounding so small and unsure, only to praise her genius when she saw who timidly popped his head in,
"Hi there, luv. You alright?"
The innkeeper of the Leaky Cauldron was hardly a looker, quite bald with a myriad of wrinkles and slightly protruding veins present to show his advancing years. But despite this, Tulip thought Tom's smile was warm and pretty. With his open body language and chronically genial voice, she could see why he was so popular as an innkeeper,
"I'm fine thank you, sir. Thank you for letting me stay." Offering a somewhat clumsy curtsy,
He waved her off with another of his warm grins. It stunned Tulip that not only did both Ginny and Harry hold fond feelings towards the man, but even Tom (though he still thought the man beneath his notice) had some positive memories of the man from a short stint of a stay at the Cauldron when both Tom's were much younger,
"You a Hogwarts kid?" A surprisingly sharp, near accusing, question that broke through Tulip's reverie. Instigating a cold feeling inside of her.
'I need to play this carefully.' A final thought as a pre-determined story rushed to the forefront of her mind as Tulip let her lips move,
"Y-Yeah, I'm in Gryffindor." Rolling past her lips carefully, her entire body sculpted into a visage of panic right on cue as she lunged forth to desperately grab his arm, "You can't tell anyone I'm here! Professor McGonagall will kill me for sneaking out again, and mum'll throw me out if she finds out what I was doing."
The lie was built on a shred of truth, that being her panic. Committing to the lie of being a Hogwarts student assuaged certain suspicions, but this was a lie that took a single owl to disprove. She didn't exist anywhere, let alone on the student rolls of Hogwarts school, and it would not take much to find that out.
'Which may involve Dumbledore, and who knows what would happen if HE found out what I am?!'
"Wh-What were you doing, luv?" Tom's surprised expression dissolved into gentle commiseration. Tulip taking the few seconds she would have (had this upcoming lie been genuine) to fidget in reluctance and mortification, "It's okay. I promise no matter what happens you're safe and I'm not going to tell anyone you're here."
Inwardly, the girl raised a brow, taking her hands from his sleeves to fold and fidget in her lap,
"Y-You promise?" An unnecessary question, as even if he didn't mean it of course he would nod. She unleased a shuddering exhale, forming the words in her head and delivering them with the same shaky tone, bordering on tears throughout, "M-My family are really… poor. I… I was just trying to help out and send some money back for my mum."
The waterworks started here, and through a quick glance Tulip could all but see the heartstrings she was pulling on Tom's pained but sympathetic face, "But the guy got too rough, I ran out as soon as I could and just jumped on the Knight Bus to get away. I…"
She descended into sobs, Tom dropping to his knees and settling a gentle hand on her shoulder and whispered gentle words to her.
She felt sick.
Pulling from Tom Riddle's masterful talent and experience for the manipulation of others would undoubtedly gain her both support and sympathy. But taking advantage of a clearly kind-hearted man, willing to help her out even with what she'd implied she was doing for money... sickening,
'I can't stop, I'm in it now. But I WILL make it up to you for lying Tom, I promise.'
"Th-Thank you, not many people would just take me in." This was genuine, as was the hug she delivered. Throwing arms around his neck and, following instincts she felt compelled to follow, laying a soft, grateful kiss to the man's cheek. When she pulled back Tom was pulling at the collar of his shirt with a soft pink to his cheeks and a loopy grin on his lips,
"Hey! Everyone has rough spots. Believe me, I can understand that sometimes… you need to do what you have to do to get by. Though I really think you should reconsider how you're… getting by."
His expression was both pained and desperate now, meaning it was Tulip's turn to have her heart clench in her chest. Sincere concern radiating from him like waves of heat, pinning her in place as he spoke again,
"Look, that sort of… work, is fraught with danger. And it can be a really hard path to walk away from if you get in too deep." His tone oscillated between stern and gentle, his eyes sticking her in place with a piercing quality, "I can't say I've got the answer to your troubles, but I'll let you stay here a while so you can get back onto your feet and back up to school."
Her lips felt numb, and Tulip did not trust her throat to produce a sound even close to human speech. So numbly she nodded, met with a firm single nod by the man before her.
"You look a bit peaky, luv. You stay put and I'll get you something warm to eat, as those are definitely not enough for a growing girl." Tom turned to leave the room after a casual gesture towards the empty pack of pork scratchings still lying on the floor,
"Ah! I'll pay-" Blurted out before the girl turned to find the coin purse, stopped by a sharp,
"No, you don't, young lady!" Quickly followed by a rueful, "I can afford to let you have a meal on the house. You look like you've been through enough, luv. Rest up and let me treat you, I haven't had a girl to take care of since my niece."
The soft nuance of pain at that last sentence killed any retorts, Tom offering a slight smirk of victory as he exited the room and tottered away.
She had all sorts of plans in her head, things that needed doing and essentials she'd need to collect. But instead of blitzing out of the room to take on the world, Tulip parked herself on the slightly lumpy bed and drew her knees up to her chest.
A divine smelling bowl of oxtail soup, with a fluffy wedge of bread, was delivered by a soft-spoken House Elf in a periwinkle frock. Tulip almost ruining the meal with the salty tears that dripped down her bright, smiling face.
[TO BE CONTINUED]
Again, let me know if this is something you're interested in me continuing. I'm very motivated to continue this one and am considering either pausing or removng Halfblood Princess to focus on this and Define Normal.
Please let me know what you think and thank you for reading.