A/N: Hey guys, back with another chapter. I've seen that a lot of people are reading this story, but that not a lot of reviews are coming in. I just wanted to say that reviews give me incentive to write more, and that they let me know people are interested in seeing more of the story. Lack of reviews shows me lack of interest and lack of interest only leads to the story getting scrapped. Anyways, depending on a few factors, I may not be updating for a few days. But I promise I will update once more before I go to Michigan on Friday. And who knows, if I actually get some more reviews, I may just update twice!
Disclaimer: No, I do not own Harry Potter, I barely own 50 cents.
Chapter Five: Lies, Lies, Lies
Tom Riddle believed that he was, among many other great things, a sensible person, someone who was just not easily surprised. After all, ever since he had been told he was a wizard, shocking things were hard to come by.
Well, he thought darkly, casting a bland look to the girl trailing after him, not anymore.
If the witch knew anything of the furtive glances and dark thoughts rolling around in his head, she hid it very well. At first, she seemed unbearably cheerful. But every now and then Tom would catch a tight frown tugging at the corners of her lips.
She might have been pretty once, Tom figured indifferently, but now she certainly wasn't. Her clothes highlighted her terribly thin form, giving him the impression that if he wanted to, she would be easy to overpower. The sickly paleness of her skin and dark circles under her eyes only attested to that fact.
She had said her name was Cameron Diaz, though made no effort to explain what she was doing on the floor of the Slytherin sixth year dorms. She had only insisted that she needed to see the Headmaster, and nothing Tom said swayed her determination.
"Do you mind if I use the loo?"
Tom froze, aware that Cameron had stopped walking a few paces behind him. She looked pointedly between the school bathroom and him. He gritted his teeth together, but gave into the witch's request with a slight nod of his head a polite 'certainly'.
He really didn't know anything about her. She could be a very influential person for all he knew, and perhaps being decent to her would pay off in the long run.
---
Morgan tried very hard not to bolt into the girl's bathroom, she really did. But the inexcusable urge to get away from her guide as fast as she could was impossible to ignore.
She figured it was her natural flight instincts kicking in. Seeing one's nemesis was known to have that effect on people.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit." She looked around the empty bathroom gratefully, barely taking time to glance over her appearance in the mirror. There were more important things at hand. Like the fact that the only thing separating her and Tom Riddle was a measly stone wall.
Oh, and the fact that she had absolutely no idea how to explain why she was crumpled on his dorm room floor. She couldn't very well say she was taking a goddamn nap.
"Shit." She racked her fingers through her hair irritably. Stupid Snape and Dumbledore, sending her gallivanting straight into mini-Voldemort's arms. She had only been with the kid for five minutes (wrinkling her nose at the Slytherin robes and Prefect badge) and already his damn perceptiveness was giving her a headache.
The way he stared at her! As if he could peel back the layers of her mind with a simple glance, as if he knew everything about her—
Fuck!
Could he read minds? Voldemort wasknown to casually torture his victims into submission with Occlumency every once and a while. But did mini-V know how to do it too?
She had no idea! She didn't know anything about the bastard or about the 40's! She was—
"Wait! That's it!" Shooting a victorious grin into the bathroom mirror Morgan dug through the pockets of her skirt. First, she pulled out her shrunken trunk and then her wand. Hadn't Dumbledore and Snape said something about providing her with all the information she needed?
With a wave of her wand, Morgan restored her trunk to its normal size. Sprawling very unladylike onto the floor, the witch quickly wrenched open the trunk's lid. She gave a sigh of relief when she saw, placed neatly on top of numerous books, a thick envelope. She wasted no time in opening it and scanning its contents.
'Your name is Leah Hume and you are a half-blood witch from up north whose parents have decided to cease your home schooling and send you to Hogwarts to escape Grindelwald's war. Enclosed is a fake letter from your father elaborating on your situation. It would do you well to read it Caldwell—'
Morgan shrugged flippantly before crumpling up the letter from her former Headmaster and shuffling through the other contents in the folder. There were several pieces of parchment dedicated to mini-V and his time at Hogwarts and a few more describing the situation in Northern Europe. The only other thing in the folder was a signed and sealed envelope addressed to Dippet.
Morgan figured she had already spent enough time in the bathroom, so after putting the letter to Dippet in her skirt pocket, she once again shrunk her trunk and its contents. Stuffing her wand up the sleeve of her blouse and her trunk into another available pocket, she strode out the door and back to her guide.
Mini-V was waiting for her outside, leaning against the wall across from the bathroom effortlessly. And loathe as she was to admit it, Morgan knew that the kid was pretty damn attractive. Too bad he would grow up to be the biggest baddy of them all, or else she would have had to put the moves on him.
She almost laughed out loud at the thought.
"Ready Cameron?" He questioned, his voice as smooth as ever.
Morgan winced unhappily; she had forgotten she told him her name was Cameron Diaz…Oh well, that was an issue for another time. She felt his dark eyes scrutinizing her and she realized he was waiting for an answer. "Oh…yeah, let's go."
Playing the part of the clueless exchange student, Morgan let Tom lead the way, opting to trail a little bit behind him. "So…uh, where are all the kids and stuff?"
Tom slowed his pace so that she could catch up, "They're at the feast." He said simply.
Morgan nodded, that made a lot of sense, but… "Why weren't you there?" Now walking side by side, it was easy for her to study the tall Prefect. And it was lucky that she was, or else she would have missed the slight hardening of his gaze.
"Prefect duties."
Now she knew that was a load of bull. Prefects weren't supposed to be in their common rooms until after the feast. They didn't have any special duties. Besides, students didn't learn their common room passwords until after everyone was done eating. She opened her mouth to call him out on his lie, but then stopped, realizing that if she really was an exchange student she wouldn't know anything of Prefect duties and formalities.
Tom raised one elegant eyebrow and Morgan realized her mouth was still open. Good thing she had no shame, or else she would have blushed out of embarrassment. "…Oh, I see." She made sure to shoot him an extra suspicious glare for the hell of it.
"Here we are," Tom stopped in front of the Great Hall doors. "Now I do believe everyone should be eating at the moment, but…" He frowned unhappily, "I very well can't leave a young lady standing out here by herself, that would be rude."
Morgan wanted to tell him that killing people was also very rude, and how that never stopped him before, but tightly refrained from doing so. She had to keep reminding herself that she was in the past; she had no idea if he had already murdered anyone or not. "Alright…so are we just gunna sit out here all day or should we actually put one foot in front of the other and get this over with?"
Tom spun away from the door to stare at her again, a frown pulling at his lips. "It's very unbecoming of a young lady to use sarcasm." He chided her sternly, "I don't care how young you are, proper manners are important to learn, even for a third year."
Morgan eyes widened as she took in his words, "HEY I AM NOT A THIRD YEAR!" She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him darkly. "I am a sixth year, thank you very much." She finished in a more inside-friendly tone.
"You certainly aren't acting like one," Tom replied.
Before Morgan could shoot back a retort he walked forward and pushed open the Great Hall doors. "After you," he said politely.
She made to sure to make a point of rolling her eyes at him.
Walking into the hall, Morgan couldn't help but stare. It was almost exactly the same as the Great Hall she had spent most of her Hogwarts years in. In fact, her head spun on its own accord to look expectantly at the Gryffindor table, and she unconsciously began searching for her friends. It took her a long moment to remember what time she was in exactly, and couldn't help but let an unhappy scowl take the place of her usually carefree smile. She already missed seeing the, every day, even though when she had left the future they were all rather angry with her. Morgan supposed then that what she missed most were the days when everyone she cared for had been unchanged by war. But those times were long gone for her, or should she say long ahead? Whatever, time travel was confusing. It made no sense for her past to be in the future.
While she had been mulling over her rather depressing thoughts, everyone else in the hall had taken a long minute to stare curiously at the guest. The enchanted candles levitating in the air shone brightly on the witch, doing nothing to really help her appearance. Even most of the staff looked uneasily between the girl and their school Prefect.
"Come on," Tom said gently, trying to not let any of his anger seep through his words. He hated the attention he was receiving, especially because there would certainly be questions about why he had left the feast now.
"Hmm?" Morgan looked away from the Gryffindor table to see Tom staring at her, only the slightest of frowns tugging at the bottom of his lips, though his darkened gaze was enough to let her know that he was getting angry. "Yeah, right." She sheepishly rubbed the back of her head, but refused to apologize as she walked down the hall towards the staff table, Tom following reluctantly beside her.
"Tom, my boy! What do we have here?" Slughorn was the first to greet the unusual duo: a rigid school Prefect and a slouching stranger.
Morgan's eyes twinkled mischievously as she spied her younger and slightly smaller Potions professor. He was wearing colorful green robes and his mop of brown hair was neatly brushed back. He had retained his bulging eyes though, and they stared with interest at Morgan.
"A young lady wishing to speak with the Headmaster," Tom responded to the question simply, his dark eyes glancing back to watch the expression on Morgan's face suspiciously.
"Ah! Not a problem then, huh?" He winked in Morgan's direction. "Headmaster, we have a young lady that wishes to see you!"
Morgan didn't bother to hide her displeasure at being spoken to like a child. Her eyes glowered at Horace and a more prominent scowl marred her features. She crossed her arms stiffly.
It had seemed though, that Slughorn didn't need to try and attempt to grab the Headmaster's attention, the man was already focused on the stranger in his Great Hall.
Dippet was a rather thin a wiry man, with wispy remains of gray-brown hair and a clean shaven face. Wrinkles collected themselves by the edges of his eyes, giving Morgan the impression that he was getting old.
"Now who is this?" Dippet looked expectantly at Tom.
Tom walked over to the center of the staff table, motioning for Morgan to follow him. He came to a stop right before the Headmaster. "This is Cam—"
"Leah Hume!" Morgan interrupted hastily.
The glare Tom shot her was nothing short of unwelcomed surprise.
Good thing she was used to people having less than satisfactory feelings towards her. "Leah Hume," she repeated more calmly to Dippet. "And I really need to speak with you."
---
Morgan slouched in the seat before the Headmaster's desk, not really caring for manners at the moment. Crowded into what she thought was a surprisingly boring Headmaster's office was almost all of the school staff, including Tom Riddle, who stood stiff-backed with a pleasant look on his face.
Dippet was seated behind his desk, his eyes wearily scanning over the letter she had unceremoniously thrust into his hands after the feast.
"Miss Hume…you have come from the North then?"
Morgan nodded, "That's what the letter says…"
Dippet was apparently an easy man to please, for he did not fish for more information. "Alright. Well, I have to say that I will need to send another letter out to your family, just to make sure everything is in order…Dumbledore, you'll take care of that for me, won't you dear friend?"
If it was at all possible, Morgan felt herself paling even more as a younger and more vitalized Dumbledore stepped forward and nodded cheerfully. "Certainly Headmaster, I'll take care of that right away." He tugged at his auburn beard thoughtfully, a smile gracing his face as he looked down at Morgan. "Nice to meet you, Miss Hume."
Morgan tried to keep herself from staring. It was a lot to take in. Her dead Headmaster was there, alive as ever, smiling graciously at her without a care in the world. She forced herself to nod in response to his greeting, "Nice to meet you too, sir." She looked hastily to the Headmaster then, "But you won't be able to write my parents."
Tom leaned forward, curiosity and a bit of eagerness giving fire to his gaze. He stared at Morgan unabashedly, "Really, Miss Hume, why is that?" His tone was laced with innocence, but Morgan heard the infliction he put on her last name.
She held in a snort, like hell it was any business of his. But apparently Dumbledore, Dippet, Slughorn, and a few other professors were just as keen to know what she had meant by her statment as well.
"My parents are dead." She said, composing her face into a sorrowful expression, one that wasn't hard to hold when she realized her real parents could have very well died years ago, and she wouldn't have known. A down-side of living in an orphanage, especially the one she grew up in…
"How did they die, Miss Hume, I know this must be a touchy subject for you, but we need to know everything we can about your situation. As you know, it is grave times that we live in, and letting in simply any student won't do at all." Dippet regarded her sympathetically.
"Grindelwald's follower's kidnapped both my parents. I'm a half-blood, you see, my mother was a Muggle and my dad was a wizard. I don't know what it was they did, but it was something that really pissed em' off because I come back from the store one day and their gone. My parents were already gunna send me to Hogwarts, because of how bad the situation was getting, and the only thing left of them that I could find was that letter." Morgan gestured to the parchment lying on Dippet's desk. "I don't know where my parents are, but I can tell you that they probably aren't alive."
Tom's arms were crossed as he finished listening to her explanation, suspicion causing him to ask another question, "Where are you from up north?"
Dippet shot Tom a disapproving glare, "Now, now, Tom, let's not bombard her with questions. She's had a tough time, as I can tell."
Morgan let her eyes glaze over with unshed tears just to enhance the story. She roughly wiped at her nose, as if she didn't want anyone to know that she was crying. "N-no. It's fine." She smiled weakly at Dippet, "I came from France, but I was originally born in Ireland. We moved around a lot when I was a kid, hence the need for a home schooling tutor."
Dumbledore stood beside her and gave her back a soft pat, "It's alright," he said soothingly, his blue eyes twinkling. He pulled out his wand and waved it once, causing a handkerchief to appear. Morgan took it gratefully, throwing herself fully into the character of Leah Hume. She was finally grateful for all those community plays she volunteered for before going to Hogwarts.
"How did you get here dear?" Dippet questioned softly.
Morgan pretended to choke back a sob. "Well, after I left my house I traveled my own ways until I finally found Diagon Alley. I used the Floo Network to get here then. But, I accidentally ended up in—"
"Dumbledore's office," Tom interjected, never taking his eyes off Morgan. "I was on my way to the bathroom when I heard cluttering coming from your office, sir," he inclined his head towards Dumbledore. "I went in to investigate and I found Miss Hume there."
Dumbledore looked at Morgan thoughtfully, "Is that true, Miss Hume?"
Morgan had to refrain herself from glaring in annoyance at mini-V. "Yes. Yes it is." She trained her blue eyes back to Dippet, "Is it at all possible that I come to school here? I know that without finishing up my schooling I will have nothing as a means of making good money."
Dippet considered her for a moment, "Well, your O.W.L.s are here in the letter," he retrieved an official looking form and looked it over with a small smile. "And you did rather well on them, so I don't see why not…"
"Is there any way we can contact your previous tutor?" Dumbledore asked, not unkindly.
Morgan quickly tried to cover her tracks. "I don't know…" She mumbled sadly. "She was at the house when my parents were taken…I haven't seen her since."
Dippet nodded again, "Very well then, do you have your wand and a trunk with school books?"
Morgan willed an embarrassed blush to coat her cheeks, "When I was at Diagon Alley, sir, I happened to come upon a discarded sixth year book list, so I took it upon myself to buy everything just in case I was accepted into your school."
Slughorn gave a hearty laugh, "That's the way to be prepared young lady!" He crowed happily. "Now enough with these questions, let's sort this lovely lady and see what house she shall be in! Hope she'll be in Slytherin with us, don't you Tom my boy?"
Tom didn't look very happy with the idea, but smiled nonetheless.
Morgan straightened up in her seat more and shot a conspicuous glance at Dumbledore while Dippet searched for the Sorting Hat.
"Are you in a house, sir?" She asked quietly.
Dumbledore nodded, "I am Head of the Gryffindor house, Miss Hume." He grinned at her, his blue eyes studying her over his half-moon spectacles. "And I would be very happy if you became a Gryffindor."
Morgan couldn't help but let a large smile pull the corners of her lips up. Dumbledore had always been one of the only people she ever really looked to for approval.
As soon as Dippet returned with the old hat, he politely described to her what was about to take place. He took great care in explaining each of the houses; Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor, letting her know that no matter what house she was sorted into she would be treated like family. Morgan had a feeling that was true for all the houses except Slytherin, if the hardened eyes of Tom Riddle were anything to go by.
But, she knew that if she wanted to at all get closer to discovering that necklace she should stick with him. And with that thought in mind, she furiously decided to do whatever it took to get into Slytherin.
The large Sorting Hat was placed over her head.
'Ah, Miss Caldwell, we meet again.'
Morgan frowned into the material of the hat. 'Hey! What do you mean by that? I've never seen you before in my life!'
The hat chuckled. 'Time means nothing to me, Morgan. I am here sorting you in 1943 while at the same time I am sorting you in 1992.'
'That made no sense, Mr. Hat.' Morgan informed the cloth.
'Life rarely does…' the hat intoned mysteriously. 'But that is not of importance right now. Where to sort you…hmmm…'
'Slytherin!' Morgan thought loudly.
'Now why should I do that?'
'Because if you don't, I'll put you through a paper-shredder—'
'But surely, you wish to be put where you belong…'
'—And then I'll set you on fire—'
'A lot of courage I see…recklessness as well…'
'—Or give you to a five year old as a party hat—'
'Not enough smarts for Ravenclaw'
'—Or I'll throw you in the mud—'
'A desire to take care of one's friends…'
'—I mean, c'mon, what's the big deal? All you need to do is say one word—'
'But there's also the selfish desire to prove yourself…not to mention cunning…'
'—Say it with me, Slllyyythhherrrineee—'
'Not a lot of power…but deception lies within you…and a growing darkness I think…'
'—I am going to kill you and it will be a crime of passion—'
"SLYTHERIN IT IS!"
'And then…Oh, wait, never mind. Your life shall be spared.'
"Well m'dear! I knew it from the moment I laid eyes on you! I'm glad to be welcoming you into a great house!" A not-so attractive view of Slughorn's face floated in front of her, waiting for her reaction.
Morgan grinned; her job was about to get a whole lot easier.