Chapter Ten
- Riddle, I swear, I would never do this for anyone else! - the morning started with Avery's whining, as he and Tom climbed up the Astronomy Tower at half past five, - I'd kill for a spare hour of sleep...
- You might have it if you lay off that ginger-head you keep talking about.
Tom regretted mentioning the girl almost as soon as the words left his mouth.
- Oh, sweet Grace and her perky tits! And the things she does with her...
- Luke, will you shut up about her already? Do you have no one else to discuss this with?
During the month following the Quidditch after-party Riddle had already learned enough about this particular girl's anatomy and physical stamina to ever be able to look at her without it all playing out in his head.
- As a matter of fact, I don't. Freddy is the cheesiest lad I know, what with all the poems he dedicates to Tina, and still he gets positively offended whenever he hears the word "pussy", - Avery bent one of his fingers, - Ed is most certainly not interested in girls, as he was drooling all over you since the first damn year at Hogwarts, - he bent another finger.
Tom groaned, remembering all the humble attempts Rosier took to vaguely proclaim his feeling for him.
- You know, sometimes I'm happy you hate Quidditch so much, because if you were on our team I think Eddy wouldn't handle flying with a boner.
- I'll pretend I didn't hear that.
- I know, nasty business.
Mornings were not Avery's strong side, and Riddle also wasn't in the mood for tyranny. It was very cold, and unwarranted thoughts of breakfast were rising on the horizon of his mind, so he let Lucas vent a little, especially taking into consideration that his partner was in for an hour of getting his face bashed in.
- And Harry - well, I didn't get to know this side of him yet. Sometimes I think Rackharrow is gunning for him, but it doesn't seem like it's mutual. Besides, - Avery turned to face Tom, pointing his finger in the air, - I have placed a strict no-sex-with-teammates rule, so that will never happen, or she's out of the team.
As soon as Harry was mentioned, Tom felt a wave of frustration rise inside of him. He hadn't forgotten the words the boy said - that phrase about licking boots for privileges. He wanted to hurt Granger - and he certainly will, as soon as he cleans up this mess with Tina.
They reached the last stairwell landing on the top of the tower, the sky turning a lighter hue through the arrow slits.
- Speaking of girls, what is it with Augustina? She stopped eating in the Great Hall, and I never see her around Malfoy or you for that matter.
Tom expected that question, as Avery was the only one who knew anything about their affair. It was an unfortunate consequence of getting drunk for the first and last time, during which he let this piece of information slip to Luke. Since that happened the Quidditch captain became the only one he could discuss this with. Not that he needed to discuss it with anyone, of course.
- I have no idea what goes on in that head of hers. She's been avoiding me since she blew me off the night of the Quidditch party.
- Oh-ho-ho! Someone's been blown off! - Avery cracked up, - That's a first one! Did your ego survive this?
- She never mattered too much.
Lucas snorted, probably thinking he was bonding with Tom over girl count, but the truth was Riddle never cared about any type of relationship he had. He had always considered it a weakness, a waste of time and energy, and was happy to be emotionally detached from people, no matter the role they played in his life. And that is why his constant thoughts about Harry Granger were so frustrating.
They got to the top of the Astronomy Tower at last, stripped to their pants and started warming up.
- Luke, - Tom glanced at Avery, ignoring that his question might lead to unwanted conclusions, - You are close enough to Harry. Has he asked anything about me?
Lucas struggled to hide a smile, and Riddle felt a strong desire to punch him in the face. Fortunately, he was going to do that very soon.
- He has, actually. Wonders why the hell do we go out together in the mornings.
- What did you tell him?
- I told him you like it rough.
Tom must have looked threatening, as the Quidditch captain turned reddish.
- Only joking, Riddle, that's only a joke! I told him he should ask you instead.
Tom sighed.
- Gloves on, - he said, and Avery reached for his pair.
Harry felt lost. His mistrust towards Dumbledore was eating him from the inside. He felt scared. He didn't know who to believe, but he wished with everything he had left in him that it would still be Dumbledore.
He didn't know how to feel about Tom Riddle anymore. It was so easy to be sure he was pure evil, but now that so many reasons for his actions lay before Potter, he couldn't hate him like he did before. He couldn't exactly forgive him for being what he was either. Harry felt like blaming his mistrust towards Dumbledore on Riddle, he couldn't come to terms with how coldheartedly Tom spoke of Myrtle and his other victims, he felt sick about this possible affair with Augustina and he was scared of the glimpses of sympathy towards Tom he started catching himself on.
"The bastard would be the one to kill my parents" he kept telling himself.
Or would he? Would time flow the same way now that Harry touched so many lives in nineteen forty-three? Besides, if Riddle was this monster of a man he knew from the future, why was Harry's scar not reacting to him in any way? Maybe the monster wasn't born yet? Maybe he didn't have to be born at all?
That was a comforting thought. Any future they could have without Voldemort would be better... If only Hermione's voice and Dumbledore's accusing eyes didn't haunt Harry in the back of his mind.
Time flew by, and Christmas was rolling in, with its decorations that were supposed to warm Harry's heart, but failed. He trained, studied, hung out with Damian Shacklebolt, Frederic Lestrange and the Slytherin's Quidditch team (except with Eduard Rosier, of course) and continued avoiding Riddle at all costs, especially after having insulted him during their last talk.
However, he couldn't exactly avoid thinking about him. He did it during Quidditch practice, he did it during classes. He was failing Potions because of it and managed to get passable marks from Slughorn only thanks to his value for the House Quidditch team. He tried, really tried to distract himself, but he would always slip back to that familiar trail of thoughts, wondering about all the reasons for Tom's behavior, everything that drove the future Dark Lord and everything that mattered to His Infernal Majesty.
Even the Quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, during which Damian had seized quite the victory for his House, didn't distract him for long enough.
Thoughts crawled into his dreams, and soon it was every night that Harry would study Riddle in the land of The Subconscious.
One dream disturbed Harry more than others.
He was back in his second year, studying the mysterious diary. It never felt dangerous in that dream or negative in any way. He was mesmerized by it and wanted to keep asking it questions, keep receiving obscure answers from the enticing, dark-haired prefect. He felt what he had before he learned who Tom Riddle was. The handsome orphan, who was willing to save his school from closing and find the beast behind the attacks.
Each time Harry had that dream, he remembered, more and more, his half-forgotten feelings about that orphan. He admired him. He felt a bond with him. He was longing to get to know him closer. What he found out about that young man later erased every good memory of him. But now he was remembering it all.
Tina's accusations and Frederic's jokes about him having a crush on Riddle didn't seem so absurd now.
This is why he took every opportunity to distract himself and was happy he had, among other friends, Damian Shacklebolt, who would never bring up the Riddle subject.
That particular day he and Damian were doing homework together in the library.
- Alright, I'm done, - Harry put away his quill and turned to look at Damian, who was lazily leafing through a book on animagi, - Have you decided on an animal?
- Well, after seeing you fall like that from the sky I figure turning into some eagle is my only option, - Shacklebolt closed the book and put it away.
Harry sniggered.
- Damian, I'm afraid that your only option is becoming a chameleon.
- What? A chameleon, Harry? - Shacklebolt darted him a questioning look.
- Yeah. To hide your embarrassment after I defeat you on the pitch.
Damian burst out laughing.
- Oh, aren't you just full of yourself! Well, I'll let you know something then, Harry, - Shacklebolt leaned closer, - I just signed out a new Japanese broom for myself, and it's the fastest on the market. Ha!
He slammed his hand on the table, and Potter squinted, suppressing a smile.
At that moment a small girl in Hufflepuff robes ran in wearing an extremely agitated expression. Her face was red from sprinting, strands of hair sticking out of her blonde braids.
- Damian! You won't believe what happened! - she leaned on the table in front of the Hufflepuff seeker and grabbed her side, trying to catch her breath.
- Chill down, Abigail! What's wrong?
- It's Myrtle Warren!
Harry went cold inside.
- What the bloody hell do you mean? - Shacklebolt frowned.
- Her ghost!
That's right! Myrtle would become a ghost! How could have Harry forgotten about this?
- She turned into a ghost?
- Yes! She screamed at me in the girl's lavatory! You know, the one where she died! She caused this massive flood...
- Did you tell the professors? - Damian cut her off.
The girl cast Shacklebolt a sheepish look.
- Well, I ran here...
- Abigail, you must tell the professors exactly what you saw. Please go to them immediately!
The girl ran off without hesitation.
Damian looked at Potter with concern.
- I knew Myrtle Warren. She died last year, did you know? - he asked Harry.
- I did, - Potter answered shortly.
- She was a..., - the Hufflepuff sighed, - well, a mess.
- Was she? - Harry asked quietly.
- Yeah... She was heavily bullied, and no one could stand her constant whining. And I felt like such a jerk when she died...
- Why? What did you have to do with it?
Damian crossed his arms and hid his hands under them.
- I just... I tried to help her. I always try to encourage those who are bullied. I mean, that's how you and I became friends, right?
- Sure.
- But with her... I started avoiding her that year because… boy, did she suck the life out of you. It was just all too unpleasant. And maybe if I hadn't stopped, the criminal would have left her alive. I knew she was a possible target because of being muggle-born, with all those other muggle-born students being petrified all around. But I wasn't there for her. And then she was killed.
- It wasn't your fault.
- Yeah, but that's not the only reason I feel bad.
He shifted in his seat, looking now even more uncomfortable than before.
- It kind of felt like no one regretted her dying. No one was too surprised. Almost like we were happy to write her off. I mean, even the teachers... "Poor, poor girl" they would say, but no one truly meant it. Yes, we were all scared, but not because it was she who died, it was because of the murder itself and all the petrifactions before.
Harry watched his friend closely, thinking about what Riddle said about Dumbledore.
- And then the attacks stopped, and we…sort of moved on. No attacks... and no Myrtle. It felt like everything bad went away along with her.
- That's just.., - Harry felt a rush of anger, - Wrong.
- I know, I know! That's why I feel so sick. And now... she came back to haunt us all.
Potter sighed. He could relate. He never enjoyed Myrtle's company, even though she helped him a lot, therefore he couldn't judge his friend for what he said. However, relief over someone's death? Was it easier to kill her knowing how everyone felt about her? The more Harry thought about it, the less it felt like Riddle was the only one to blame for her death.
He wondered what Tom would do now that his first victim's spirit appeared.
Had Myrtle seen Tom kill her? Had she seen the Basilisk? How soon would he know the results of her interrogation? Slughorn wasn't at the Great Hall, and neither was Dumbledore. In fact, every teacher was gone. It was too late to run to the girl's lavatory and speak to her himself, and even if he could have gotten there before the professors, it would have been too suspicious. Should he send someone to eavesdrop? No, too suspicious still. It was best to act just like everyone else did.
Riddle fixed his eyes on his plate with steak on it. Adrenaline was rushing through his veins, which did nothing good for his appetite. Just cut the meat. You need to act normal.
He sliced off a small portion of his steak and put it in his mouth, chewing slowly.
What a weird feeling it was. He could almost mistake it for happiness. Every feeling sharp, every colour bright, every sound loud.
He didn't want to eat, he wanted to laugh.
Chewing certainly helped hide that weird smile that kept crawling on his face.
He must make sure he doesn't stand out.
Frederic was sitting across from him, staring at Avery, who was stuffing himself as usual.
- How can you eat at a time like this?! - Lestrange attacked the Quidditch captain.
Luke slammed his turkey drumstick on his plate, making the cutlery jump on the table with an irritating clank.
- Freddy, do you remember what Mrs. Dwale said?
Frederic paled.
- "If Mr. Lestrange loses his appetite, bring him to me". Now, do you want to go back to the hospital wing? Or are you gonna eat your sorry excuse for a chicken breast?
Lestrange took his fork and knife with a very insulted expression on his face.
- My chicken breast is cooked exquisitely, - he murmured under his breath.
- As for the whole Myrtle business, - Avery grabbed his drumstick again and pointed with it to the Ravenclaw table, - Is she going to haunt us now all to death with her whining or what, eh?
He pushed Rosier in the shoulder.
- I hope she stays in that lavatory of hers. That's exactly where that mudblood belongs, - Eduard answered dryly.
Frederic gave Eduard a judging side-look, but returned to his meal.
The Great Hall was full of whispers, and Tom could hear "Myrtle" and "Warren" from every corner.
He looked around the table, taking in the agitated faces of his fellow Slytherins, carried away by the news. If they only knew it was him. If they only knew it was his Basilisk.
Riddle was so excited, he didn't notice a pair of green eyes watching him very closely. He felt another tickling rush of adrenaline run up to his throat.
How could have he forgotten. Harry knew.
The rush of adrenaline only grew, making the tips of Tom's fingers tingle. What was that expression on Harry's face? Not anger, no, but something close. He looked like a predator focused on his prey. But Tom wasn't prey.
They kept staring at each other, as if the first to blink would lose.
Then the doors of the Great Hall burst open, and in stormed the professors, walking quicker than normal to their seats. Headmaster Dippet walked up to the tribune.
- I would like to call an in-scheduled prefect meeting. House prefects shall be accompanied to my office by Head Boy and Girl.
A prefect meeting. That was good news. Tom wouldn't be summoned if he was under suspicion. Unless it was a trap, of course.
Orion started calling out the prefects, and Tom got up.
- It's been more than half a year now that the poor girl, Myrtle Warren, was murdered here at Hogwarts, - Dippet spoke in a tired voice, looking as bad as on the day of the actual murder, - And now her ghost has appeared in the place where we found her body - the girl's lavatory on the second floor.
He sighed and looked over the many faces in the room.
- It has already reached the professors that there is a new wave of panic in the school. We have gathered you all today to underline that it is important to maintain peace at Hogwarts. Many will run off to the lavatory to see the ghost for themselves, and we shall not allow that to happen. The girl has suffered enough, no need for additional attention. Please abstain from taking part in spreading the rumours surrounding the murder, there is no need for that. Hopefully by Christmas this will all be old news. The more attention this case gets, the bigger chance there is of the school closing, and we don't want that, do we?
Dippet turned to see Dumbledore's disappointed face glaring back at him. It looked like the Transfiguration Professor had a different opinion on the matter. Dippet frowned and returned to look at the group before him.
- Is that clear?
The prefects nodded as on cue, eager to appease the Headmaster.
- Professor Dippet, might I ask one question? - Patric, the young Gryffindor know-it-all, raised his hand.
- Yes, Patric, go ahead.
- Has the ghost... Has Myrtle said anything about who killed her?
There it was. Riddle could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him and did all he could to imitate a look of polite concern on his own face.
- Alas! - Dippet sighed, - She only said she saw two big yellow eyes staring back at her, and then she woke up as a ghost... Now, if everything is clear...
Patric raised his hand again.
- Yes, Patric?
- But isn't it true that acromantulas have black eyes?
- Yes it is, Patric, I am glad you take your Care of Magical Creatures studies seriously, now...
- But then it wasn't an acromantula that killed Myrtle, was it?
Right about now Riddle wished he had yellow eyes to murder the Gryffindor know-it-all.
- Patric, this is exactly the sort of behavior the professors and I hope you will refrain from! No need for creating any new rumors, the case is closed!
Patric went red right up to his ears.
- Your main responsibility as prefects is to make sure the school functions without any setbacks! Now, I would like you all to get back to your duties.
By this point the old man's irritation was oozing out of him. The prefects all felt it and rushed to pour out of the office, stumbling in the doorway. Riddle patiently waited for his turn to leave, watching the Head Boy urge the prefects to move along.
- Tom, Orion, one last thing, - Dippet called them out, and they turned to him, - Hagrid will be returning soon to the school to work as a groundskeeper, and that will cause all the more vitriol from students. My head starts to hurt whenever I imagine the rumors spreading.
That dim-witted oaf returning to the school? Oh, Tom was sure it was Dumbledore's work.
He glanced at his nemesis, and saw him looking straight back.
- You, Orion. Being the current Head Boy you have very good influence on the students and can stop the buzzing. And you Tom...
Riddle glanced back at Dippet.
- Well, personally I'm sorry that Hagrid returns to the school. I can imagine the amount of work you put into investigating who was behind the attacks. But nevertheless, we decided to give Hagrid a chance... Who knows what he might do if he is not watched after.
- Of course, I understand, Professor.
- Thank you, Tom. You both can go now.
Riddle and Orion nodded and turned to leave.
So, this was it? A pair of yellow eyes?
- Let's go clear the crowd looming in to see the new ghost, - Black offered.
- I have things to do in the library, - Riddle replied dismissively.
The Head Boy glanced at him and sighed.
- Whatever, I can check the lavatory myself.
Tom turned the other way and hurried into the first empty classroom on his way, feeling laughter bursting out of him.
Yellow eyes. Apologies from Dippet. Frustrated Dumbledore. Hagrid returning as a groundskeeper. No tracks leading to the actual murderer.
Riddle broke into hysterical laughter. What fools they all were, what incredible fools. He could almost pity them.
Author's note.
Where to begin with! So much more is coming up :) I have three more chapters complete (they need to be edited), but it looks like I have to write at least a small chapter between this one and the rest... So, it might take a bit more time than originally planned.
So many things inspire me lately - I think I can go on and on. It almost feels like a romance. Seriously. I'm like mowing the lawn and smiling all the time, as if I've received some love letter.
Thank you very much for the follows and ESPECIALLY the reviews :) You really help to continue the story and are letting me know I should not run off to my introvert hideout.
Also, I've reread the whole thing and found like a thousand mistakes, and that probably happens because I post at night all the time. Weirdly enough, does not save my corrections from the phone app, so I'll try correcting everything from the desktop version, and if that doesn't help, we're gonna have to live with it. Yes, that is terrible.
Special thanks to my Editor in Chief, who I've been giving a very hard time these previous weeks, and he still helps me (: What a generous soul! I owe you 50 Guinnesses by now. Perhaps you'll fancy a homemade butterbeer.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.