Chapter Thirty:
Once Upon a December

I look at Albus squarely. "It was then that all doubts were obliterated from my mind, even those that might have attempted to linger, hesitant to leave. Perhaps this was selfish of me, for I had decided that whatever it was that Tom chose to do, it did not matter. He cared for me, and at the time I thought of nothing further. I decided to not stand before him and slow the progress of his plans. Perhaps this is the greatest mistake I have ever made. Intelligence is only valuable and worthwhile if one uses it."

When he is silent for longer than I expect, my eyes drift to the floor in shame. I know what he must think of me, and it is unbearable to be held in such low esteem. I feel as though I am a child under the scrutinizing gaze of a parent after committing a wrongdoing. Guilty.

"Ms. Riddle, I am not blaming or chastising you in any way, you must understand." The wrinkles upon his face bend further into a kind smile. "What is done, is done, there is no going back. Don't place the burden of Tom's misdeeds upon your own shoulders."

I sigh. "Yet what, Albus, if they are misdeeds of my own?"

-

The winter holidays came upon us so quickly I wondered if a page had been ripped from the calendar and tossed beneath a pile of other long-forgotten things. The first snow of the season seemed to have been brought to the castle grounds upon the wings of the owls which carried the post each day clutched in their talons and beaks, and soon it was blanketed in white. Sounds of laughter drifted through the halls, the giddy chattering of girls wafting through the windows from the grounds below. Nearly everyone seemed lighter of heart, quicker to smile and less quick to anger. Even Tom, if such a thing was possible, seemed content, even peaceful, the effects of which I marveled at from time to time.

The afternoon before the holidays were to begin, we were allowed into Hogsmeade. Tom had agreed to accompany me, for we had decided against visiting the village at all previous opportunities that year, and I was eager to walk the streets at least once in our seventh year.

-

I stood at the base of the staircase in the entryway, leaning against it absent of mind as I waited for Tom to appear. We were to meet there, and yet, as our peers began to file toward the doors, he still had not arrived. I was conscious of how foolish I looked, standing there on my own as though glued, and as if to correct this impression I twirled my feet lightly in a circular motion on the stone.

In the days before, Tom had alluded to some sort of event occurring in the village that day, and a minute feeling of uneasiness had crept its way into my stomach since then. For I knew that he would not have mentioned such a thing if it pertained to Hogsmeade alone—that is, if Hogsmeade knew anything of it. Briefly, the thought that this was the actual cause of his benign mood crossed my mind, then lingered.

Footsteps suddenly echoed in the corridor, and I glanced up just as Tom had rounded the corner. In his hands, he was clutching something which, at first, I could not see enough to identify.

"I apologize for my tardiness," he said after kissing me lightly.

"They have left for Hogsmeade already," I observed as I glanced at the door. "Shall we attempt to catch up?"

For a moment, Tom frowned, then smoothly responded, "No." I looked up at him in surprise, only to find a mysterious smile etched across his face. Inside, my stomach turned, as it caused him to suddenly become more handsome.

"Have you another way, Tom?" I inquired, beginning to smile myself for at that time it seemed infectious. The question I had asked was unnecessary, as I already knew. What else would change his expression as such?

Tom nodded and began to walk, I beside him. His fingers brushed against mine as we traveled at a nigh hurried gait, the surprising chill of his flesh sending an unwilling shiver along my arm. However, when my hand was encompassed in his, it slowly began to warm. My cheeks, so susceptible to donning a blush, colored only slightly at this public—yet longed for—display of affection. There was an assuring silence between us as we made our way through the corridors, one of the moments in time when we both knew that words were an unnecessary hindrance.

We stopped before the statue of a one-eyed witch, whose stone hump protruded awkwardly above her. I regarded it quizzically, though Tom whisked his wand from his pocket and tapped upon it hastily. To my great astonishment, the hump began to move aside, stone scraping gently against stone to reveal a passageway just wide enough to admit a person. Though, it seemed as if I would be the only one of us to slip through, as it looked far too narrow to admit Tom's shoulders.

He briefly rested his foot upon the mouth of the opening in order, I supposed, to view my reaction. His lips twisted into a pleasant smirk, for my eyes were wide and my mouth was agape as though a door unhinged.

"However did you discover such a thing?" I wondered aloud. For all that I had seen and done within the castle walls, they still always held something new for me to find. My finger twirled about a lock of my hair as I transiently contemplated this, and in that short tie, tom disappeared into the passage as though it had come alive to swallow him into its depths. A feeling of alarm nearly overtook me, and I rushed to the opened statue, peering into the gaping blackness.

"Tom?" I called hesitantly. My voice reverberated in a somewhat eerie manner, the impacted dirt—which I supposed it to be lined with—muffling the sound and smothering it soon after. From within, I heard Tom mutter something, and an instant later, the passageway was bathed in faint light.

"It is alright, Danielle," he assured me, though from where I stood his voice seemed too distant. "And," he added after a slight pause, "an improvement, if it is compared to the Chamber of Secrets."

"I suppose anything might be, I muttered, uncertain whether he would hear me and not having a preference either way. With a grimace, I slowly eased myself into the dark interior, the potent smell of earth reaching my nose as soon as my head ducked inside.

Though I did not enjoy being immersed in such a confined space, there was still a certain thrill that accompanied it; I could not deny the sheer excitement of entering an unknown portion of the castle, something which I had not felt since the Chamber of Secrets had been sealed. It was strange, almost, that I had thought of the Chamber in such a way, when it had been the cause of a multitude of horrors. Peculiar as well was the fat that I did not consider our visits to the seaside cave and the cemetery to be among the few excitements that I had had. Although, perhaps the most unexpected thing was that I, a taciturn bookworm, had had them at all.

I whispered a quick Lumos, illuminating the tip of my wand and casting a mixture of light and shadows across Tom's face. I had not heard him approach me from behind, so lost in thought was I. He slid past me just enough to replace the hump to where it had rested before we disturbed it, and once he had done so, we progressed deeper into the passage.

At first, we but ducked our heads to avoid scraping them upon the earth above us—Tom more than I—yet soon we were forced onto our knees. The tunnel was of such a primitive and filthy quality that I wondered at the importance of that particular Hogsmeade visit. I knew Tom to be proud, in a nigh aristocratic way, and could not fathom that he had simply chosen to travel in such a way that would otherwise have been degrading to him, unless it held a greater, prefabricated purpose.

"You cannot evade my question, you know," I told him, wincing as I pressed my knee into a loosened rock.

His pace temporarily slowed, though he did not turn to look at me after I had spoken. "I suppose not. You are far too observant for that." He sighed. "The existence of this passageway was made known to me most recently," he confessed. "I would not have known of it but by word of mouth, as the statue does not exude distinct traces of enchantment—"

"Unless it is scrutinized more closely," I finished, nodding. "But who—?"

"A former acquaintance," he answered cryptically. It would be a long time, I knew, before he would divulge anything further.

Minutes began to meld together, and as we continued to crawl forth I had not an idea of the time that had passed. I had no perception of where I was, and it felt as though we were crawling through absolute nothingness, or at least staying in one place, for the passage ahead and behind us was the same: in both directions, it stretched on.

And yet, just as I parted my lips to query of how much longer we were to go, Tom halted suddenly, shifting in the narrow space to face me. A small clump of dirt fell at our feet in the center of the distance between us, and I recoiled as it upset a thin cloud of dust toward my face.

Until then, I had forgotten of the item which Tom had brought clenched within his grasp, yet the moment my wandlight once more fell upon him, I gasped.

"We might have been in need of it," he shrugged, and handed me the invisibility cloak which I had thought lay protectively hidden at the bottom of my trunk. For the second time in however long it had been I was flabbergasted and speechless. I watched numbly as Tom constructed a compact box from what seemed to be thin air, then proceeded to take the cloak from my hands. For a second, I strengthened my grasp upon it and searched to meet Tom's eyes with my own.

"Wait," I commanded softly, and his eyes flickered with surprise. "How did you acquire this from my belongings?" I furrowed my brow in distress. "And why might we have needed it? I know that something is to happen today, though you have told me nothing of it. This is not simply about bending rules, these precautions."

I moistened my lips with my tongue, for they had suddenly seemed unbearably dry.

Tom frowned. "I do not wish to tell you just yet what is to occur today, for I promise you will know soon enough. I doubt that we will be in danger, and to worry any further than you have will cause more harm that that which has already been planned."

"But how did you acquire this?" I persisted, his words slipping over me without first registering in my mind.

He waved his hand with an air of impatience. "There are many ways to summon objects, Danielle, most especially those whose preference is to remain hidden. It was simply a matter of timing. I did not ransack or defile your possessions, if that is your true concern."

If I had not known Tom as I did, I would have mistaken the expression within his eyes as hurt; as it was, it took more than a moment to realize that it was not.

I shook my head. "I know you would not do such a thing. I trust you, Tom."

He nodded, then folded the cloak into the box. Turning from me, he pressed against the ceiling of the passageway until it gave way into a concealed trap door. Coughing, for the unearthed dirt had fallen upon his face, he pulled himself through the newly-made opening.

-

The village of Hogsmeade was a beautiful sight to behold, draped in the lay white garments of winter. Colored lights had been strung across the faces of the buildings, and even suspended in the air between them. Though a light snow had fallen earlier in the day, it had been tread upon such a numerous amount of ties that the majority of it had been reduced to a sodden mass. Although, even then, large drifts of white huddled against the sides of the shops as though embracing a lover.

The chilled air brought a healthy redness to my cheeks, and I pulled my scarf more tightly around my neck to retain the warmth beneath it as we strolled through the village streets. I had forgotten my gloves in the Ravenclaw dormitory, though with Tom's hand in mine, it made little difference that I had.

My lips shook with want to beam widely as I looked upon the festivities surrounding us. From time to time, my eyes shifted to Tom, yet each occasion I did so, his expression was the same: his mouth was set in a thin line, and his dark eyes were watchful, waiting.

It had been less than an hour before I realized that we had traversed a small circle within the village thrice without pausing the visit the shops. Each time, we had passed a stout clock tower which seemed to display more than the time, as well as the Hog's Head, though the windows were darkened with grime and absence of light. I eyed the latter uneasily for a moment, for I had glimpsed a flicker of movement within.

"We have gone in circles, Tom," I commented lightly. "Is there not a place that we may go before this event of yours takes place?"

Our crunching steps slowed to a halt.

"Even Dervish and Banges, or Madam Puttifoot's—"

"No," he said quickly, and I started in surprise. "Not there." He glanced at the clock once more, though it lay across the road.

My eyes widened. "Where is it safe, Tom?" I prompted.

"The Three Broomsticks, though I cannot accompany you there. I do not wish to leave you, yet the time approaches that I—"

"Nor do I, Tom. I had hoped to spend this day with you, but you will not allow it to be so!"

He looked at me strangely for a long minute. "You would wish to place yourself in such danger, Danielle?"

I nodded, a braver gesture than I at first thought it to be.

"Then come, we must make haste."

-

Just as the windows had been, the interior of the Hog's Head was of a filthy quality reminiscent of the passageway we had crawled through an hour before. It smelled of damp soil which had long since begun to rot, and the entirety of the surfaces were coated with a thick layer of substance that contained things I chose not to imagine. When the door came closed with a shrill creak behind Tom and I, all sounds from the outside became silenced. My entry into the pub elicited stares from its few occupants, and all eyes were upon me. Not once were their shadowed glances directed upon Tom, as though he were a usual visitor. And it was not long before I realized this to be the truth.

"Do not move from my side," he warned beneath his breath, so that only I could hear. His caution was unnecessary, for though I had not been there before, I felt instantaneous distrust for it. So much so that I nearly feared I should not have insisted upon coming.

I raised my chin to feign an air of haughtiness about me as Tom proceeded to the most remote part of the room. There, the shadows lengthened as the crevices and knots in the wooden walls grew. Tom extended his wand and traced a crude figure into the wall, tough it disappeared so quickly that I had not the time to distinguish of what it had been.

Suddenly, the wood seemed to melt away to form the shape of a door, and soon a tarnished silver knob appeared. With a click, it turned, and the door fell away, admitting us into a small room. In spite of its size, however, it was of a far more cleanly quality than its adjoining counterpart, and was furnished with a single, polished table, around which sat a group of Slytherins.

"Lord Voldemort!" a boy greeted, like a statue suddenly coming to life. Tom declined his head briefly in acknowledgement, and I gripped his arm tightly.

"My friends," he said smoothly. His tone was an enormous contrast to what I was accustomed to it being. He did not attempt to introduce me, though I minded this less than the unabashed stares I was receiving.

"What is Parmellie doing here?" the girl I recognized as Druella Rosier questioned with disdain. The corner of her lip turned upward in a sneer.

"Silence, Rosier!" Tom commanded, his eyes flashing. "You are not here to question my company. You are present before me because you wish to prove yourselves to me. And I wish to be assured that you are capable of what you have pledged to me." His gaze was cold and unfaltering. "I have returned to you only to remind you of this, and should you fail, I will become gravely disappointed." And with that, he led me from the room, murmurs in our wake.

I was befuddled at the brief meeting Tom had led, unsure of its purpose. Although, I supposed that it had held greater meeting for the small congregation inside the pub. I asked Tom what his friends were to do, and he replied that it was merely a test, it not a demonstration of the power he possessed.

And at that moment, a shrill scream sounded behind us, piercing the air and bringing closure to all other sounds around us. With a gasp, I looked over my shoulder just as Dervish and Banges erupted in flames. It was as if, in a single second, the seams which held the village together had burst, a chaotic frenzy released. My eyes caught Druella's for a fraction of a minute, and I froze as she pulled a hood and mask over her head, obscuring her face.

My heart pounded irrepressibly fast, and my limbs quivered with the sheer terror that had turned into a common feeling in the air around me. Above the horrified cries I could hear Tom shouting my name, yet my vision and hearing seemed to swim.

-

"Scivenshaft's Quill Shop was the next to be burned, then Madam Puttifoot's and Gladrags Wizardwear in turn," I tell Albus. I am breathless, for it feels as though I am once more living the terrifying event which I have just described. My forehead is dampened with perspiration. "Tom spotted Hagrid through the rush of wizards and told him to carry me to the castle, for by then I had fainted."

"It was a terrible date, I recall," Albus agrees, and an expression of concern crosses his face. He quickly conjures a glass of water from the air and offers it to me. I accept it in gracious silence.

When I have calmed, I continue. "It is still frightening, as you have noticed, that I was present at the initiation of the first Death Eater rally. I remember awakening in the Hospital Wing surrounded by those with far more grievous injuries than I."

I pause, thoughtful. "Hagrid was there, though Tom was not. I did not see him for a day after, when I was released. And it was only that long because I had received a head injury upon fainting." I smile, though it is dripping with bitterness. For a moment, I expect Albus to interrupt me, though his hands remain placidly folded in his lap, and he does not speak.

"I remember the ill feeling within me that remained for several days. It seemed as though it had taken me that long to realize what precisely I had witnessed, for I remained in a shocked state that would allow me to process little.

"We had hoped to go away for Christmas that year, though we had not discussed where we were to have gone, exactly. I suppose now it is better that we did not." I sigh. "I might have been disappointed. Not to say, of course, that I was not already, for I spent that Christmas in the Hospital Wing. Much to my embarrassment, I collapsed shortly after I was free to return to the normality of life."

-

On Christmas morning, I wakened to a soft stream of sunlight upon my face, warming the blankets of the small bed upon which I lay. For a moment, I could not remember where I was, in spite of the fact that I had been there for days upon end already. From where I rested, I could see the windows around me clouded with melting ice and persistent snow.

Remembering the date, I first looked at the beds around me, then my own. While we shared the same misfortune of being in the Hospital Wing on that particular day, at the other patients' feet laid a large pile of parcels, their brightly colored wrappings glittering in the unexpected sunlight. At my own feet were but two such parcels, though the smaller of which had been wrapped in brown paper and string.

To my surprise and delight when I looked to my left, I discovered Tom, his head resting against my mattress as he still dozed. He seemed only to be sleeping lightly, however, for, as if he sensed I no longer slept, he jerked awake. I grinned at the disheveled state of his hair, which I had always seen as perfect before. He blinked several times, and for a moment, there was such an innocence about him that it astounded me—and passed quite quickly.

"Happy Christmas, Tom!" I beamed, suddenly feeling giddy. He leaned across the bed to kiss me in response, and I giggled against his lips in spite of my self.

"You are certainly spirited today, Danielle," he commented, sitting next to me.

I blushed. "I cannot help it, it would seem. It is Christmas." Suddenly, I remembered that I had not had the time to purchase a gift for him. I furrowed my brow, instantly sobered.

"I do understand that you have been ill, Danielle," he said, leaning against me affectionately. I blinked at him, for it was as if he had known my thoughts. At the time, I was not assured of the truth of this. "But never mind. I see you have gifts of your own."

"More than I expected," I admitted, gathering the parcels into my lap.

I took the brown one first, and my suspicions were confirmed when I saw that it was from Hagrid. There was a brief note scrawled upon the paper, wishing me a happy Christmas and for an improvement in my health. I smiled at this fondly, recalling how he had visited me in the days before. Tom shifted and made a small noise beside me, though I pretended I did not know why.

Inside was the crudely-carved figure of a cat, washing its small wooden paws. I stroked it for a second as though it was real, touched that he had taken the time to craft such a gift for me. Then I gently placed it aside, examining the second gift with much less enthusiasm. It was a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, a present from the Hogwarts Nurse out of sympathy.

"Well," I shrugged. "That seems to be all."

"Yet nothing is ever what it seems," Tom said quietly.

Slowly, I turned to him, and he opened his hand to reveal a small green box. I took it from him gently. "My gift to you," he explained simply. "Though, it has been rightfully yours for quite some time."

Quizzically, I opened the lid, then gasped.

The ring was silver, and left a pleasantly cool feeling upon my skin when he slid it onto my finger. Thin tendrils wreathed along the sides, coming together to encircle the petite diamond in the center, minute emeralds flaking either side as though guarding it. It was more than I had ever expected to receive in a lifetime, and I wept into Tom's opened arms.

My eyes shine at the memory, and even Albus cannot conceal his almost saddened smile. "It is difficult to imagine that Tom has ever behaved as such."

"Indeed," he nods. "I would not believe it except for that fact that you have just told it to me."

Before I disappear into my thoughts once more, Albus continues. "However, I am curious to know, if you will allow me to step backward for a moment—into an entirely different manner—the fate of your invisibility cloak. If I remember correctly, you didn't have the chance the retrieve it that afternoon."

I chuckle. "Indeed, and I never did. All thought of it slipped from my mind entirely thereafter. I have not thought of it until now, which I admit seems so very careless of me, to have lost such an invaluable item."

"It is my suspicion, Ms. Riddle," he says at length, "that your cloak did not remain unfound for long. And, if my suspicion is correct, as I do not doubt it is, then it is still of some use to this very day."