Teaching History (is Old News)
9 - Advice
Every memory of Potter that Tom tries to put into the pensieve comes out blurry and faded, as if Potter was never there at all.
His most recent memories, of course, appear as clear as a new Muggle motion picture… But the ones from his school days... Tom can barely remember them at all let alone force them into a pensieve. Frustrating, how even magic has its limits. Memories are best taken fresh, as soon as possible, before they're stored into a pensieve. Otherwise, those memories can be faded and corrupted by time. Some memories, such as traumas or significant moments, will remain clear no matter what.
Tom wants to yell at his past self for not creating a pensieve back then. He would try to extract memories from Nagini but animal memories are another category entirely, and he only acquired Nagini during Sixth Year...
[Fine, if I cannot recall every prediction Potter has made, then I will nudge him to tell new ones and analyze what happens next .]
Nagini hisses in alarm. Silently, she looks at the long roll of parchment that lists every 'prophecy' that Potter has ever foretold, ridiculous or not, from the beginning of the summer, and then at the floating pages of possible interpretations for llamas and flamingos. Tom has already taken the etymology of each word and broken down their meanings from past language trees and cultural connotations of each animal in different countries.
For instance, llamas and llama parts were placed in burial sites by the Moche people. Even in the later Inca empire, llamas were considered creatures of burden… especially for the dead. Llamas carried everything—cargo, people, the dead. If these creatures are related to Tom's death, perhaps they're a metaphor for Tom's aspiration to avoid death?
And flamingos! In Egyptian culture, maybe wizards considered these birds to be a representation of the sun god Ra. These animals were always cared for and preserved. Even in Peru, these birds were sacred animals—also preserved and found in many works of art. Some of the myths that Tom has found describe the flamingo as a savior animal because of the way it can bend its neck. He even notes the stories about men who could turn into flamingos and had extraordinary abilities… these are likely references to ancient animagi… Perhaps the flamingo prediction refers to animagi who have been experimented on or it's a warning of what happens if people turn again their savior…? But Tom can't think of anyone he would consider a savior in current Wizarding culture…
Nagini frowns.
She looks contemplative for once. But after a while, she only sighs and curls up around Potter's atrocious Pikachu-shaped beanie coach. [ If you only asked him, you could save all this trouble. Humans always make things more complicated than they really are. ]
Just for that, Nagini won't be getting any sugar mice for dessert.
:
"I made lemon cranberry scones today! Would you like some?" Potter presses the tray in Tom's direction first, as always.
"…Thank you," Tom says stiffly, taking one.
All of their coworkers suddenly stop and stare at Tom as if he's just announced the end of the world will begin with an invasion of piñatas.
But Tom keep smiling as if nothing strange has happened at all. Potter, irritatingly enough, doesn't seem to register the silence. Instead, his face lights up and his eyes sparkle in such an alarming way (like lightning , and Tom nearly glances at the scar again) that Tom wonders if Dumbledore's twinkly eyes are a learned trait rather than hereditary.
"Well…?!" Potter leans in. "Go on, try it!"
Tom's smile turns brittle. "…Of course."
He eyes the pastry carefully. It's pale. Flakey. Probably loaded with more sugar than necessary, he wouldn't be surprised if Potter added two more cups of sugar, just to be contrary. But slowly, he takes a polite bite out of it.
Immediately, he wants to vomit.
Sweet. Too sweet. No, Potter didn't put too much sugar; logically, Tom knows this is a normal ratio of sugar for a scone but it's despicable. The overwhelming amount of sugar, no matter what quantity, makes Tom sick to the stomach.
"It's delicious," Tom says with the perfect amount of cordiality.
Potter's face goes utterly blank. "… You don't like it."
Tom's heart hammers. Show me you're a seer, his mind roars. "Don't be silly. Of course, I do."
But Potter doesn't seem to be looking at him anymore. Instead, his gaze seems transfixed somewhere else as if there are whole other worlds contained in the reflection of his spoon. Tom never particularly cared to notice before but Potter's gaze often seems focused elsewhere, even when he talks to people like Dumbledore or Chang. As if the present doesn't truly matter.
"In fact," Tom grits his teeth, "scones might quickly become my favourite food."
"Hm?" Potter blinks up at him. "Oh! Um. That's… great, Riddle. But you don't have to force yourself." His grin suddenly returns like a blaring siren that won't shut up even after shutting the door. "I'll make you something you absolutely want to eat, I promise!"
Potter rushes out before Tom can decipher if his last statement is a prophecy or not.
:
"Ah, Potter, I was wondering if I could talk to you about lesson plans," Tom musters up his most charming smile in the corridor.
Unexpectedly, Potter doesn't even react. Instead he seems to weave through the crowd of students while balancing an outrageously tall pile of cookbooks in his hands. Tom even spots some encyclopedias on dragons and South American birds. Again, his gaze seems far off…
Infuriating.
:
"Potter, if I could just have a moment—"
"…have to figure out a good ratio of red to gold…" Potter mutters, ducking into a bathroom stall.
The bell rings. Class again. Tom is ready to blast that bell charm into nothingness.
:
"Potter, I wanted to talk…!"
Once more, Potter nearly walks into a wall before changing directions and dragging his sled of art supplies around the corner.
"Damn Potter," Tom mutters.
"You really must be patient with him, Tom, he often has his head in the clouds," Dumbledore says from behind.
How Dumbledore seems to appear when Tom least needs it still alludes him.
"He's quite difficult to get a hold of when he's working on his projects."
"Nonsense," Tom scowls, no longer bothering to hold his façade. "Potter always finds time to—" annoy , "—converse with me when we're together for meals or in the office."
"Ah, but I imagine this is the first time you've sought him out instead of the other way around."
Tom doesn't respond.
"Amazing how we can get so caught up in our own lives that we forget that others have their own stories to live as well. I would use this opportunity to learn more about Harry as an equal, Professor Riddle. You'd be surprised how many layers human beings have once you get to know them."
"I know Potter," he snaps, "I know that he's infuriating to the brim, that he sleeps with a stuffed dog, that he tries to have tea parties with his blasted owl every Sunday, that he never wears matching socks. I know almost every one of his annoying sweaters, including the one with dancing zombie flamingos, and I'm convinced he probably buys a new sweater every week just to annoy me. I know him."
Dumbledore suddenly looks pleased. And a bit worried.
"I am not obsessed with Potter," Tom hisses.
"I never said that," Dumbledore says lightly.
"I merely know him better than you do. I would know if he had layers."
"Alright."
"And I'm not seeking him out."
"Sure."
"In fact, I'm going back to my class and I'm going to plan the next unit on curses for the Fourth Years."
"Toodle loo then."
Tom clenches and unclenches his fists. He thinks of the mask he puts on for his followers, the one that made him Head Boy. Dispel all emotions. Be distant but proud.
"Good day," he says pleasantly and almost believes it.
This obsession with Potter has to stop. If Potter won't show any signs of being a seer willingly than Tom will have one of his followers monitor him instead. Tom has greater things to worry about like recruiting more followers and spreading his influence. He hasn't taught a session on the dark arts to his followers in months… Perhaps another meeting in Hogsmeade this weekend will be necessary…
Quite suddenly, he finds himself bumping into Potter, making Potter's collection of red and gold yarn fly all over the corridor.
"Oh Merlin! So sorry, Tom! I wasn't paying attention, here, let me get that," Potter tries to brush the threads of yarn from Tom's hair, not even aware of how he himself looks like a ridiculous spaghetti monster.
"Stop that," Tom snaps, wandlessly vanishing the yarn away to their office. Let Potter deal with the mess later. "You're a wizard, aren't you? Use your magic!"
"Someone woke up in a mood…"
"You're insufferable," Tom says because how dare Potter assume that Tom is as human, as emotionally ruled, as the rest of humanity. How dare Potter assume that Tom woke up this way , when everything is Potter's fault in the first place! "I'm leaving," he walks away. He doesn't need Potter or his seer powers. His plans will move smoothly without the power of prophecy…
But…
"Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?"
Tom stills. "What did you say?"
Potter shrugs. For the first time, Tom notices the smudge of make-up on Potter's face, hiding dark bags under his eyes.
"Hogsmeade. You're going right?" and Tom's mind roars, yes, see? He knows your plans to meet with your followers, he knows, he knows—
"...Yes."
"I… I wouldn't if I were you."
Tom can feel his blood roaring in his ears. "...Why not?"
"Well," Potter shifts on his feet, "you might have a deadly encounter with llamas after all."
Tom sees red (perhaps from the leftover scarlet yarn on his hair) and he hisses, "No one cares about your inane, false lies, Potter, so spare me your little stories! I am not, and I never will be, in danger because of an overgrown llama."
The scar on Potter's head has never looked so damning before. "Tom—"
"Don't talk to me. You are a spoiled brat , who has wasted his potential on stupidity and I am done with you."
That night, Tom transfigures the DADA classroom into a makeshift bedroom and moves his things.
For days, he and Potter don't speak.
EDITED CHAPTER - Nov 15, 2019