Previously: Hermione's use of her Gringotts key is discovered. Riddle schemes and burns a book. The tale of the Twinkle's Terrifyingly Terrible Trinkets is told. Hermione gets a divine job at Hogwarts. Colin isn't so lucky. Hermione and Riddle meet face to face.
Chapter 5: Poisonous Places
The sparkling gleam of the ring had ensnared him, and like pretty poisons that promise pleasure, had sent him on the quest, despite all hazards, to obtain relief that only the possession of the piece could grant.
Hidden in the shadows, his eyes followed the hand that held the jewel, speckled with the vivid alternate splendor of green and silver. He staggered forward a few steps, bringing him closer to the gem that fed his base desires. Desires had separated him from his caretaker, the fluffy haired hat-maker, and desires had brought him to this strange location on the tail of the ring-owners robe.
Sharpening his ears, the adventurous nargle heard the ring-wearer hiss, the soft sounds sending chills down his spine. Hearing a responding snakelike sigh, his fur stood on end. His gaze fell downward from the shelf he stood upon, allowing him an unobstructed view of the source of the sound.
It's scales glittered green and shone blue, moving in waves, the patterns rippled, alternatively glowing and dimming, but always alive with a cold and vivid fire. Surveying the snake, he shuddered as its long forked tongue darted out of its mouth. At the sudden crackling of flames, he shrunk away from sight, and observed the visage that had appeared in the fireplace.
The face gazed around at his surroundings, as the fire licked at his aristocratic features. Raising a brow slightly in curiosity, he addressed the ring-wearer that was Tom Riddle. "I received your owl. How may I be of service?"
Riddle's green eyes narrowed briefly as he pondered how much to reveal to the man, "A long story, suffice to say I'm troubling you for something that may trouble me."
His curiosity peaked; the man bit his tongue, from inquiring further, and instead replied, "Being of service to someone of quality such as yourself, could hardly be considered trouble. Again, how may I be of aid?"
Moistening his lips, before voicing his request, Riddle responded with but a single word, "Information."
"Of whom or what, may I ask," the other questioned.
Riddle's jaw tightened, "One Mirage Greenhorn to be exact. Find all you can, especially of any and all associates of hers, as I am most interested in the familiarity of one of her compatriots."
Seeing the fleeting but underlying fury in Tom Riddle's eyes, the individual felt it prudent in abstaining from further inquiries, and instead simply acknowledged the request, "Very well, how soon do you need the information?"
Tracing the engravings on his wand, shadowy eyes held the aristocrats probing ones, before answering succinctly, "Must you ask?"
Sensing the unspoken threat, the man replied, "No indeed." Then seeing Riddle wave his hand dismissively, he concluded, "Until the next time we speak," before disappearing from the fire.
Making sure the connection was closed; Riddle turned to his pet, murmuring thoughtfully, "Discontent, the root of the ministries woes, shall aid me for now." His pet hissed something in response. Allowing a half-smile to appear on his face, he removed his ring, placing it on a nearby table, "I see…hunger, the root of your discontent." Motioning the snake over he prepared to feed her.
Shivering, the nargle watched as both predators turned their backs to him. Rolling off the shelves, onto the counter below him, his eyes widened at seeing his desire lying so close and unattended, beckoning him with its brightness. Utilizing the distraction presented, he leapt, twisting and turning in a complicated motion, seemingly distorting his tiny body, in a high speed snatch and grab, that left him in another dark corner cuddling his new possession.
Holding his treasure in his paws, he sighed happily, thinking the object nearly as nice as the hats his fluffy haired hat-maker made for him and his eighty-seven brothers and sisters. He recollected sneaking into her room and discovering the small colorful hats in a drawer. Finding how wonderfully the hats fit he had taken them all. On returning, he found her fussing and worrying about the missing hats she called S.P.E.W. Feeling bad about ruining the fluffy haired-ones hat surprise, he decided to give back the socks he had taken from her earlier, and then with the help of twenty-two of his brothers had left a sheep in her bedroom to aid with further hat making.
Realizing his funny caretaker may be worried about him, his eyes scanned the surroundings, before spotting a window left slightly ajar. Beginning to scuttle home to his caretaker, the ring carefully tucked away, he paused certain he had heard a howl of rage come from within the walls he recently vacated, cursing the absence of the ring.
.oOo.
Cursing herself for her folly in regards to Riddle, then discovering the absence of her nargle, Hermione's anxiety level reached a new high, and so she began to babble, "Oh Colin, why? This is horrible. I might as well run for the next Minister of Magic at the rate I'm going. One should never change time… and I've turned everything on it's blasted head. In fact, Riddle will most likely take my head. And Beeper! Out, alone, stealing who knows what, or creating chaos who knows where…then me teaching Divination….the student's will fail their NEWTS for sure!" She nearly wailed at her statement.
Colin who had been sitting on the bench next to her, gently patted her on the back. "Chin up, you once told me things always turn out for the better, so I'm telling it back to you now. Besides you're Hermione Granger, know-it-all extraordinaire, you'll figure it out." Suddenly grinning, he added, "Though if all else fails, I think you'd be a wonderful Minister of Magic."
Slightly calming, she smiled back at Colin, and felt slightly shamed at her nearly teary outburst. She thought back to her experiences with Ron and Harry. She had fought in numerous battles including the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, the Battle of Hogwarts, incapacitated a number of Death Eaters, fully recovered from several potentially fatal curses, was quite skilled at spell creation, and charms. Recalling her post-Hogwarts training as well, she cheered considerably. "Your right Colin, this…..this is a piece of cake." Fully energized, Hermione sprung from her seat.
Worried about the mischievous gleam that had taken hold in Hermione's eyes, Colin let out a small form of protest, "Hey, wait, I didn't quite say that. In fact I didn't say that at all. This is completely the opposite. In fact I'd call the situation apparating into a live volcano bad, possibly worse."
Raising an eye Hermione peered at him, "Whatever happened to things will be better? We'll figure it out?"
Wringing his hands, Colin countered, "Technically I said you'd figure it out, and I really didn't specify who'd things end up better for."
"You truly are an inspirational speaker, Colin," Hermione replied dryly. Shaking her head, she added, "I say we stick to the original plan."
Colin looked at Hermione confusedly, "Which was?"
She ignored Colin's question, "Come on, less chatting, more doing, and you're going to help." With this final statement, the two then disappeared into a nearby crowd.
.oOo.
At his wit's end, Wallace Rugen, yearned for hair, for currently he wished to pull some out. The paperwork, the demanding parents, professors nearly drove him up the wall; classes were to begin in two day's time, and he was completely behind. Contemplating a decision to push back the starting date of classes, he groaned as he realized that would only create more work for him.
He shook his head and sighed, unsure how Dumbledore had managed his first year as headmaster, just a year ago. He creased his head worriedly thinking about the condition of the headmaster, he had stopped by St. Mungo's two hours prior, and was informed that Dumbledore's condition was stable. They declined to say anymore, and refused to allow any visitors.
Just when he thought things could not become much worse, the frosting on the cake occurred. Auror Hastings pulled him aside, speaking of a desire to converse with their number one suspect. Thoroughly baffled, Rugen had followed him, ending up detained for the next hour, grilled on his motivations. According to Hastings, Rugen had attempted to off the headmaster, to possess the coveted role of Headmaster of Hogwarts. Hogwash, Rugen currently thought, as he shuffled together several paper on his desk in an attempt to bring some semblance of order to his desk.
Suddenly the door in front of him burst open, scattering the papers he had just finished organizing. Looking up toward the entrance, there leaning casually against the wall was a young man in robes of a swirl of blue and black. Incensed at being disturbed, and after the indignities of the day, Rugen harshly bit out, "Just who exactly are you, barging into my office? I'm an exceptionally busy person."
"Cicerone Levy, special unit of the auror's division, that deals with unique cases. You and Hogwarts are of current special interest in the case of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, number 74193." The man flashed him an identifying badge.
For some minutes Rugen remained speechless and motionless, looking incredulously at the man with an open mouth, and eyes that seemed starting from their sockets; then apparently recovering himself in some measure, he managed to stutter out, "What? I already explained everything to Auror Hastings this morning."
Seemingly startled, but masking it quickly, the auror then replied, "Well then you are aware of the situation, and the in-depth investigation that is required. As well as my presence at Hogwarts until the conclusion of this case."
Rugen snapped out of his daze completely, "Wait just a moment, you can't expect to disrupt the teaching environment. Think of the parent's, the student's, your presence would not be conducive to learning."
"And I suppose, an attempted murderer about the premises is?" The individual rejoined.
"I'm innocent, and I won't have my school run amuck by the likes of you." Rugen said furiously.
"Your school is it? Then it seems that we are at an impasse. Unless another solution can be reached? One that may not pose so many distractions?" suggested Auror Levy.
Mumbling to himself, Wallace Rugen pondered of some viable solution, to both their problems. Before alighting upon a brilliant idea. "You can teach here!" he exclaimed joyously.
The auror, not rejecting the idea forthright only replied, "And what do you recommend I teach?"
Becoming more and more excited with his idea, as it would kill two birds with one stone, "A flying instructor, our previous instructor, Professor Getaway is retiring, leaving the spot open. You could fill in. It's not a lot of work, and you could continue your investigation." Rugen concluded proud of his solution.
The auror paused, "Indeed, a good solution indeed, though how can you guarantee that my presence will not make itself known anyway?"
Wallace frowned, what a point indeed. He sighed, as he found himself back at square one.
The other man was not as despondent, as after taking a breather he turned to Rugen, "I believe I have a solution to both our problems." Grabbing a quill and a piece of parchment, he seemed to scribble down several statements, before turning the document over to Rugen, who was surprised to see the amount of writing on the sheet, in such a short time.
As Rugen made to peer closer at the document, it was snatched back by the man. "It is a binding magical contract, that upon signing will ensure the secrecy of this agreement, by any means, until the contracts fulfillment." He then handed the document back to Rugen.
Rugen contemplated the pros and cons of signing such an agreement. Seeing no downfalls he seized a quill and signed his name with a flourish on the bottom. Handing over the document for the other to sign, he spoke as he waited, "You will be provided quarters in the castle, let me know if you need any assistance, for despite what you aurors may think, I played no part in Headmaster Dumbledore's state."
The man nodded his head, a grin playing on his face, "I have no doubts of that, though I am certain the culprits will be found in the castle." Then just as abruptly as he entered, the man took his leave, disappearing from the office. Rugen sighed, before gathering his papers again, and continuing to work.
.oOo.
"I was brilliant, if I do say so myself." Colin crowed, as he handed over the parchment that Rugen just signed to Hermione for safekeeping. "I couldn't have come at a better time as well, it seems Hastings just recently accused him of the crime." Leaping around, Colin continued to dance with joy, "And your contract, inspired was what it was. Plus the badge, Four-Fingered Frank, did a marvelous job."
Hermione grinned, "Well Auror Cicerone Levy, I guess we have a castle to explore, don't we?"
Grabbing her arm, he returned, "Indeed we do."
.oOo.
Hepzibah Smith endeavored to shriek; her lips and tongue moved forward in the attempt, but no voice issued from the cavernous lungs, which seemed oppressed as if by the weight of some sitting mountain, gasping her heart palpated at every elaborate and struggling inspiration. Strong arms wrapped around her shushing her, and rocking her as she composed her breath returned to her.
She blinked wearily, before turning back to her merciful savior. "Oh Tom, you certainly are a dear, I'm terribly sorry, I seem to be having such horrible spells lately." Sadly pausing, she continued, "It must be my age, I'm just glad you're around to help such an old woman."
Riddle examined her, "Not a mark on you, and please Hepzibah, I doubt it's your age. Why you look as lovely as the spring's cherry blossoms."
Hepzibah, laughed, her large rotund belly slightly jiggling, before the sound turned into a dry heave, as she struggled to get her breath back. Silence permeated the room, before Hepzibah spoke again, "My dear Tom, it's times like this I'm reminded of my age, as well as my mortality. My wealth is great, but what use is it if I have no one to share it with. After all what is an empty life?"
"What morbid talk, I'm sure your life will be one of fulfillment." Riddle poured her another cup of tea.
"You truly are a darling man, it's amazing no fine woman has snatched you up." Hepzibah grinned, as she saw Tom's shoulders stiffen. Attributing it to bashfulness, she prattled on, "No, I believe a fine man like you is probably looking for some special woman."
Forcing a smile on his face, Tom took a sip of tea before replying, "I find none can match you, my lovely Hepzibah."
Fanning her face, "What a flatterer you be, Mr. Riddle, if I were but a few years younger," sighing she continued, "no matter, the hour draws late."
"To be sure, it does." Reaching out for her hand, he placed a kiss on it. "I suppose I must take my leave." Standing he looked ready to depart.
Anxious Hepzibah bade him pause, "You will visit again, won't you? Your teaching's at Hogwarts won't consume all you're time? Forgive me for being so selfish, it's just that I've come to enjoy your visits, and I had hoped to show you some certain treasures I hold that should spark your interest."
"My curiosity is indeed peaked, with an offer such as yours how can anyone refuse, but you are a treasure in itself my lady, and not Hippogriffs nor dragons could tear me away from our inspired meetings." Bowing low Riddle then turned, his face hiding an expression of loathing, as he made his way out of the elderly woman's home.
.oOo.
"I thought you only had two bags and a purse, where did all these books come from." Colin questioned as he aided Hermione in carrying various items to her new room in Hogwarts.
"While you were with Deputy Headmaster Rugen, I was preparing a lesson plan of sorts, and to do that I needed to visit the library, and get a couple of books." As several of the books could not be shrunk, Hermione carried them in her arms, as she chatted away with Colin.
"Hmm, I don't know those don't look nearly enough." Colin said somewhat amused as he gazed at the 10 books Hermione carried in her arms.
"No? But I got - oh-" Realizing Colin was being sarcastic she shook her head, "Really, you certainly are a laugh a day. My rooms should be coming up soon. Then we can move you in."
Switching subjects, Colin inquired, "What about Beeper? We can't leave him out there, how will he find us?"
"Believe me when he gets tired of creating mischief, or gets hunger, he'll find us." Glancing at her watch, she added, "I give him another two hours or so." As she turned round the bend of the final corridor, a torn hem of her robe became entangled between her feet. Stepping on it she pitched forward disappearing through a wall in front of her, leaving her books behind.
Dropping the items he was carrying, Colin rushed forward, looking for a lever of some sort, as he called her name.
.oOo.
In the confusion of her fall, Hermione did not immediately apprehend her startling circumstance. Her face seemed bathed in a clammy vapor, and the peculiar smell of decay rose to her nostrils. Putting her arm forward she lit the tip of her wand, and shuddered to find that she had nearly fallen into a round pit.
Intrigued as to the depth, she dislodged a nearby stone, and let it fall into the abyss. For numerous seconds she listened to its reverberations as it dashed against the sides of the chasm in it's descent; at length, there was a plunge into water, followed by loud echoes. At the same moment came another sound unfamiliar to her ears, which was accompanied by a faint gleam of light suddenly flashing through the gloom, and just as rapidly fading away.
"Hermione were are we?" Colin's voice behind her queried. The thump or his body signaling he had just fallen through.
"Some part of the castle I assume, but first, how did you get in and how do we get out?" Not waiting for an answer, she walked toward the wall she fell from, putting her hand forward, she was surprised to meet with no resistance and so pushed her head through. Peering around the deserted corridor from which they had come, she decided it would be prudent to clear up the mess they made, before some wanderer assumed the worst. Pushing the rest of her body through the wall, Colin followed suit.
Picking up Hermione's belongings they had scarcely completed their work, when a footstep was heard. Tossing themselves back through the wall, a habit born of sneaking through Hogwarts as children, they listened as some individual passed by the place of concealment with a slow but steady gate.
As they could not see the person's face, they contented themselves with listening. Given the tones of the voice they perceived the individual a man. The voice muttered to himself, in a low broken tone, some words of a language not understood. Listening closely, Hermione could make out several hisses, that most likely belonged to a parselmouth. Her heart beating rapidly, she held her breath as she realized Tom Riddle stood not a meter away from their hiding place.
.oOo.
A/N: Cicerone Levy, is also an anagram for Colin Creevey, just like Hermione's name.
Also a quick note in regards to Hepzibah Smith, I couldn't find the exact year of her death, when I looked it up on the Harry Potter wiki, they listed two different dates, one of 1946, and the other in 1960 when looking at the timeline. So I decided to take some liberties, as in either case she died post Tom Riddle's graduation of Hogwarts.
