Riddle and His Lady

Chapter Seven: Gorelick's Books and Ancient Artifacts

To say that Hermione Granger was shocked to discover Tom Riddle stood at her door, would be a drastic understatement. And even now, as she stared down at the neatly folded apron on her bed, she could not quite believe that she even knew Tom Riddle.

Most certainly, if he had grown up to be a great wizard like Dumbledore, Hermione might have idolised him. But although he was great, he was not good. She gnawed on her lip, lifting the apron to her face and sniffed it. She immediately scowled and threw it back onto the bed. She was not the sort of with to go round sniffing boys belongings. She would have liked to have come up with some intelligent and useful reason for sniffing the apron, but the truth was she just liked the smell of Tom Riddle. He smelt sophisticated and intelligent, and Hermione found intelligence incredibly attractive. Perhaps that was why it had not worked out with Ron, she considered. Not that she thought he was stupid, no; he just didn't know how to use that big pink lumpy thing in his head.

She had not expected a confrontation such as that from Tom. He was clearly not one to keep quiet if something irritated him and Hermione could not really blame him on this occasion. She had not even bothered to give the man the benefit of the doubt before learning a little more about him. Although, she wondered if doubting him would turn out to be beneficial for her afterall. And that was why she had written to Dumbledore; to discover those things about him that otherwise she could not possibly know.

Hermione was pleasantly surprised by the amount of information the Headmaster had collected on Tom Riddle, and through the letter had learnt that after his mother died, Tom had been placed in a muggle orphanage in London. He was born the product of a love potion brewed by his squib mother, Merope Gaunt, and placed on his muggle father, Tom Riddle Sr who then abandoned his wife upon hearing that she was a witch. The heavily pregnant woman was forced onto the streets, resulting in her death shortly after Tom's birth. He stayed at the orphanage until he was eighteen, but mostly lived at Hogwarts.

In his fifth year, he had released a basilisk into the school which killed a young student - Moaning Myrtle. Dumbledore had suspected this for years but with no evidence, he could not accuse. This was how Dumbledore discovered the young Slytherin was a parselmouth, and therefore the heir of Salazar Slytherin. Since then, incidents within Hogwarts seemed to rise dramatically including various cases of students appearing in the hospital wing adorning severe injuries and with no memory of the events.

In Tom's seventh year, he ventured to the Riddle Mansion in Little Hangleton and performed the killing curse on his father and grandparents. He then framed his mothers brother, Morfin Gaunt, who resides in prison for his crimes.

Tom left school in 1945, and not wantin to return to the muggle world in the aftermath of the second world war, applied for a teaching post at Hogwarts which was denied by Dumbledore, as he was aware of gangs he had been organising during his time at Hogwarts. After that, Dumbledore lost all traces of Tom Riddle, although he had tried to keep an eye on him.

Having thoroughly read the letter three times, Hermione sat down at her desk and wrote a short reply.

Dear Headmaster,

Thank you for replying so swiftly to my previous letter, and for collectin so much information. I am certain this information will help me greatly.

I must inform you of one detail which came to light in the future and caused a devistating problem for myself and others trying to defeat Lord Voldemort. I cannot be certain whether these events have occurred yet, but I can certainly warn you now for the future. Tom Riddle, at some point, discovered Horcruxes and creates his own. In total he creates eight, although one of them is unknown to him and others.

Furthermore, I had been told of his request for a teaching post. I believe that this resulted in his association with dark artifacts and dark people, and therefore, dark magic. I am, of course, not blamin you, although, I would reccommend that if he applies again, you consider it - greatly.

Lastly, have you discovered any more on how I have arrived here as of yet?

Thank you ever so much for your help, Professor.

Yours sincerely,

Hermione Granger.

The young witch then fetched the owl once more and then burnt Dumbledore's reply to her. Merlin forbid anyone found letters such as the ones she had in her possession.

As Hermione had no shifts at work until the evening, she took the opportunity to visit Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. She had deeply considered which spell Ron might have used to send her back in time. It even occurred to her that the spell might not have been invented yet which meant she could be waiting years for someone to think of it. Her gut instinct told her to do, even just a tiny bit of research on time travel just in case there was something that could help her. She could not soully rely on Dumbledore to figure it out for her. Therefore, she needed a book. Preferably one on the laws of time. She doubted that books like that would have been allowed on shelves in normal shops and was prepared to venture into Knockturn Alley if she had to.

Without the need to inform Rosmerta of her little trip, Hermione apparated to Diagon Alley. With a smile, she grazed the street with her eyes. She was happy to find much of it unchaned; it gave her a small sense of being at home. Gringotts Wizard Bank still stood majestically like the head of a great ship at the end of the street with rows an rows of beautifull painted shops surrounding it, an swarms of chattering witches and wiards crowding. It made her smile to see a familiar flock of children gathering around the broom shop, gazing at the latest broomstick to be released.

It was an odd sight to see a young witch wandering through Diagon Alley alone, and she did indeed get a few odd stares from people, but she was too distracted to notice. Her mind was firmly set on finding her favourite book shop. She could remember it being situated closely to Eeylops Owl Emporium, although she was not even certain it had been opened yet, as there were quite a few shops she did not recognise.

Having searched the streets for nearly an hour, Hermione grew tired with no success of finding a book shop. She found it absolutely astonishing that she had failed to find one. Where on earth did people buy their reading material?

The frustrated witch had grown so tired and fed up with the entire journey that she very nearly returned back to the pub, a comforting image of a pin of Butterbeer set firmly in her mind, until a very small, exhausted looking shop caught her eye, fit snuggly between two colourful shops. She had very nearly overlooked the poor little shop as it did not exactly stand out. It had one small curved display window, which looked particularly ancient. The window had ivy crawling over almost every inch of it and a branch of an overhanging tree bursting through the glass and into the shop. The exterior of the building was fairly dark and sullen, with exposed wooden structues which suggested to Hermione that it was at least three hundred years old.

She knew straight away that it was a book shop. She could see through the dirty glass that piles of books had been stacked up on the window sill and shelves surrounding the main room. An old wooden sign, cracked with wear, hung from the roof an read:

Gorelick's Books

~ And ~

Ancient Artifacts

Hermione immediately liked the look of the shop and simply could not stop herself from charging through the door with excitement.

She found herself entering a very small room, cluttered with dusty books and odd metal instruments which spun wildly with a whirling sound assailing the room. The walls, as she had seen from the outside, were covered with rows of old wooden shelves carrying hundreds of old books. The wall paper reminded her particularly of 12 Grimmauld Place, as much as she could see of it behind the shelves, flaking from the walls but still charmingly grand with ornate golden patterns on a background of deep blue. Gas lamps hung from each wall, although only two were still working and so the room was only half lit.

Upon gazing around the shadowed room, Hermione's eyes suddenly met the form of an elderly lady, sat in a chair behind a small round table covered in a moss green, velvet cloth. The lady had her bony, almost translucent hand out infront of her and rested on the table. She wore a lengthy, red velvet cloak and had long silver hair, pinned with a golden clasp. Without looking up from the table, the old lady spoke with a soft voice, "I was wondering when you'd arrive."

Hermione was not too sure what to say to that, but assumed she meant she had seen her from outside the shop. "Yes," Hermione began, "I was unsure whether to come in or not. For a moment I thought you were closed." her brow pulled together when the woman still persisted not to look up at her. She was beginning to wonder whether she should have come in or not.

"No, my dear," the lady chuckled and finally drew her eyes up to meet Hermione's, who was shocked to find that she was blind. "I saw you. In my third eye, Miss Granger."

Alarmed, Hermione retorted sharply, "How do you know my name?" She saw the old lady smile gently before crooking a finger, encouraging her to come closer.

"I have already told you, dear. I am a seer." she explained, her head positioned as if she was looking straight at the young witch, but eyes focusing elsewhere.

Hermione was silent. She had never had a strong belief in divination and the lark, especially since she had Trelawney teaching her, who was clearly a fraud. Having never experienced anything of that persuasion, Hermione was not wholly convinced with it. She was a woman who lived on solid facts and that suited her well enough, but in Hermione's opinion, there were no solid facts to say that people really could see the future.

"Yes, of course." Hermione replied easily, glancing around the room once more and deciding not to pay too much attention to her.

"I know you're a time traveller," the lady sang with a mischeivous sparkle in her eyes. Hermione's mouth popped open in shock at her words and upon hearing her silence, she smiled, "does that prove me right?"

If Hermione had not been so shocked, she would have been grinding her teeth at the smugness radiating off the lady. "I also know that you were sent here by your red-headed friend. Correct me if I am wrong." But of course, she knew she was not wrong.

Against her better judgement, Hermione could not help but be slightly suspicious of the woman. As much as she did not want to accept what the woman said, and believe that she had been told this information, only one other person knew of her dilemma and Dumbledore would certainly not have told anyone. Hermione relaxed slightly, but remained with her hand behand her back, clutching her wand. There was no possible way this woman could know this, unless she was telling the truth.

"If you really are a seer," Hermione said with a low voice, "then why have I come here?" she demanded.

"Destiny, I suppose." she said with a chuckle.

Hermione snorted in a rather unladylike fashion, "I don't believe in destiny."

The woman nodded with a grimace, "You should; it is as real as you and I. Please, sit down, my dear."

Hermione sat. Had she not been incredibly weary from her long journey around Diagon Alley, she would have refused, but her feet cried to her for mercy and so she sat.

"You will not find what you are looking for here." The lady said with a painful cough and removed her hand slowly from the table.

Hermione appraised her with her eyes as she opened her mouth once more and croaked, "But I can give you a book, which I'm sure you're pleased to hear."

The young witch frowned, "why will I not find what I am looking for here?"

"Because the spell that brought you here has not been invented yet," she sighed impatiently. Hermione's nostrils flared. The womans attitude was really beginning to irritate her. How was she supposed to know? She was not a seer.

Her mind was whirling with possibilities at that statement. If the spell had not been invented, as she had suspected, then would she have to wait for years for it to be invented? Or would she have to come up with a completely different spell. But inventing one would take her months and months and that's saying that she would even succeed. Hermione rubbed her forehead with her fingers, trying to sooth the persistent pounding in her head.

"What am I going to do?" she said flatly, pinching the bridge of her nose and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt utterly desperate. She had not prepared herself for this sort of news to hit her; she had not expected it to be easy to get home, but this just complicated it even more.

The woman appeared to ignore what the young witch said and instead asked for her hand which Hermione gave reluctantly. She was no longer in a fighting mood and just decided to do what the woman said.

Her brittle fingers danced over Hermione's hand, leaving a cold trail all over her skin. Hermione shivered at the chill of her fingers and stopped herself from pulling her hand back. The lady spoke before Hermione could question what she was doing, "Do not be scared, Hermione. No one will hurt you here."

Hermione highly doubted that somehow. She knew there were dangerous wizards around at this time. Just having Tom Riddle around was reason enough to be scared; he might just be a teenager, but that didn't mean he wasn't just as dangerous as he was in the future. He might not have advanced his skills or have as many followers, but he still had the same twisted thoughts as Voldemort.

After a moment of silence between them, Hermione's temper got the better of her and she suddenly jumped from her seat in irritation, snatching her hand back. "Well?" she demanded, rubbing her hand to bring some circulation back, "are you going to tell me i'm in grave danger?"

The woman chuckled quietly and replied, "Oh, no, my dear. Your divination teacher did come out with some tripe though, yes?" she seemed to find her knowledge particularly amusing, as well as the way Hermione was reacting. The young witch did not reply to her and instead focused on levelling her breathing out.

"I have only two things to tell you, Miss Granger." she said before slowly stepping out of her chair, and disappearing into another darkened room at the back of the room.

Hermione waited for her to return for a while until it crossed her mind that she might not be coming back. Hermione walked slowly over to the empty doorway and took a peak in, crying "excuse me?" three times before deciding it was time to go and made her way over to the entrance. Just as she put her hand on the dorknob and slipped her wand back into her back pocket, she heard the click of heels behind her and turned to see the old lady trotting towards her with a gentle smile on her face and a heavy, dusty book held in her hands with a black piece of material underneath it.

The lady plonked the book in Hermione's hands and took a step back, wiping her hands on her red cloak. "Read this. It might help you with what you're searching for." Hermione observed the tattered old book; the title read:

Pockets of Time and Travel

By M.R. Cattermole

Hermione glanced up at the lady who looked back at her, although her eyes were pointed away from her and thanked her. She nodded in understanding and suddenly grabbed her free hand, holding it tightly. Hermione's eyes darted down at their joined hands, unsure of what to say before the lady spoke in a whisper, "Miss Granger, be aware that you will not be leaving here for a long time, yet so you would be wise to settle in and make friends." She then leaned closer, and almost tenderly said, "and never forget, there is kindness in the world and if any is directed at you, always accept it."

Hermione nodded, her brow furrowing. She did not question the lady; she doubted she would get any answers from her anyway and instead questioned her on how much she wanted for the book. The lady then shook her head and explained that it was a gift from a friend, to which Hermione left with the book wrapped in black material and held closely in her arms.

When Hermione returned to the Three Broomsticks and departed to her room, she found a small light green envelope placed in the centre of her desk. The seal puzzled her; it was of a snake wrapped around a capital T. It was not once she recognised, but of course, she would not.

Frowning, Hermione placed the book beside it and picked the envelope up, flicking the seal open and pulling out a small piece of paper with the words:

Dearest Hermione,

I have given you a pouch of floo powder in this envelope which do not require you to call the name of the place you wish to go to. It will send you directly to my place of living, from where we will proceed to Orion's place of living.

I feel I must inform you of what we are expected to wear. A simple dress will suffice, luckily for you as I am expected to spend money on a full suit. Orion is rather demanding at times.

I look forward to seeing you on Monday night.

With kind regards,

Tom Riddle.

Having read the letter, Hermione slipped it back into its envelope neatly and placed it in her bedside draw. She could not help but admit his little comment about buying a new suit had made her smile, and as she glanced down at the small emerald pouch on her desk, she unwilling felt a little nervous about seeing the handsome young wizard again.

Tom attempted not to be irritated by Lestrange and Abraxas with their booming voices and "whooping" as they sat on his bedroom floor playing a noisy game of wizard chess, but his temper was slowly getting the better of him. It was not just the fact that he was trying to brew a particularly complicated potion on his kitchen table that was irritating, but the fact that the two young men were sat in his living room trying to provoke the chess pieces fight with each other. Tom gritted his teeth in vexation, discarding the Flobberworm Mucus into the bubbling cauldron.

As he prepared to sprinkle the ground lavender in the pot, Lestrange appeared beside him, propping himself up on his elbows on the kitchen table and watching Tom brew the potion.

"What's that you're making?" he inquired, sniffing the cauldron and then spluttering at the smell.

"Never you mind." Tom replies shortly.

Lestrange nodded and continued watching him for a moment before saying, "I saw Hermione earlier."

Tom could not deny that as he said that, his intrest peaked significantly but he showed no signs of interest and instead quirked an eyebrow and said flatly, "Oh, really?"

"Yes, Tom." He replied with a grin, "and guess where she was?"

He shrugged, trying his hardest to concentrate on the potion in front of him. If he added just slightly too much Lavender or too little valerian the potion could explode in their faces, and although he could not deny his interest in what Lestrange was saying, Tom rather liked his eyebrows.

"Knockturn Alley," He replied with a sinister tone. This did, admittedly, shock Tom which of course he masked.

"Right," Tom sniffed, "And why should this interest me?"

"Because," Lestrange drawled, fingering his way through the ingredients for the potion, "She was at Gladys Gorelick's shop!"

Tom slapped his hand away from the ingredients before raising his head. This indeed shocked him. "Why on earth would she go to see a Seer?" He inquired, cocking his head to one side with a calculating look on his face.

Tom pushed the information to the back of his mind after a shrug from Lestrange and continued with his potion making until the other wizard perked up again and cried, "Is it true you've invited her to Orion's gathering?" with disbelief etched on his face.

Tom stiffened but replied quietly, "As a matter of fact, I have."

Lestrange could not stop the bark of laughter leaving his mouth upon hearing that and jumped into a chair at the table, grabbing an apple and crunching into it. "Orion won't like that," he said with a wink.

Tom nearly laughed along with him, but held himself back and instead said, "No, indeed," with a decrete smirk.

Here is the seventh chapter! I really liked writing this one actually.

There is once small thing I'd like to address; I've had so many people following and favouriting which I really appreciate but hardly anyone is reviewing :/

Thank you to the four people who reviewed chapter six, and the 9 people before that but I really need these comments to give me the confidence and inspiration to post more. I absolutely love writing but if I have no one egging me on to write, then I can't imagine this will go on for long.

Thank you for the people who have reviewed/favourited/followed though.

-Buckbeak