Kolybel'naya

Chapter 11: On the Tip of Their Fingers

The Grey Lady seldom spoke; most people at Hogwarts knew that. She was simply a silver form in the background, floating behind students and watching everything. Her mother used to say that those who watched were the ones who held knowledge, and, even though she was just a ghost now, the woman liked to hold knowledge of what went on around her. The castle is her home – it had always been her home, actually – and she couldn't bear to live without knowing what happened inside the place. That was why she watched and listened and rarely spoke. The inhabitants' whispers brought her much more information than direct questions would.

Being so concerned about knowing everything that happened at Hogwarts, the Grey Lady always knew when something different was going on. She felt it when the Heir of Slytherin opened the chamber Salazar had created, and she knew that poor Gryffindor boy was not the one who had done so. And now she had that same feeling, as if there was something going on. The only thing was that no one else seemed to notice anything different from the normal and the woman was starting to doubt herself when she finally saw him.

Actually, he didn't catch her attention at first, while she floated down the corridor on the third floor, until the lady realized she didn't actually know his face. She also noticed she had never seen someone on that spot, by the large window that gave people a nice view of the courtyard, much less someone who looked so sad and out of place.

The Grey Lady approached him carefully, slowly floating until she was next to him. Then, after a long moment of silence, she commented on how pretty the grounds looked with the moonlight shining over them. He simply nodded and said nothing. She was not one to start conversations, but the stranger intrigued her, so she told him her name – Helena. Helena Ravenclaw, because she did not like the name students gave her – and he didn't look surprised at all, like most people did when they discovered who she really was. When she asked his name, he gave her a short and quiet answer that made her brows furrow. It was an odd name for a wizard, not very common… The woman told him that and he simply laughed, a sad laugh to match his sad face. And it was then that she realized what he really was.

He was not floating like her but he was surely not alive either, which his translucent body and greyish figure made it clear. He was lost in the castle and he did not understand the importance of her name.

The Grey Lady had seen someone like that stranger only once in her life and death.

"Miss Elston, concentrate."

Hermione breathed deeply, closing her eyes while trying to ignore the calmness in Riddle's voice. She had been in the classroom with him for almost half an hour before his politeness (the Slytherin had decided to be polite to her out of nowhere) started to get on her nerves. Tom would do nothing aside from sit in a corner and tell her to concentrate in order to make her wand bend to her will. She was practicing with the Arctus spell for now, aiming it to a pile of old rolls of parchment that were, now, already ragged thanks to her uncontrolled spells.

"I am concentrating," said the girl as she pointed her wand at the parchment once again. "Arctus!"

Instead of softly flying away from the desk, as she wanted the spell to do, the draft that left her wand cut the parchment even more. Growling, Hermione hardened the grip on the wand and repeated the spell again and again, getting the same result. The Gryffindor only stopped when she heard Riddle shifting from his position on the desk he was sitting on, getting up and approaching her.

"I find your concept of concentration to be really interesting, Miss Elston," said Tom, stopping by her side and stretching his arm out in front of himself. Hermione automatically prepared herself to attack in case the boy tried to do anything against her. "Arctus."

The Slytherin barely whispered the incantation and, in response, the pieces of parchment that remained on the table were pushed back by a soft draft.

"Do it again. This time, make sure to picture the blast of air at a low speed and tell your wand that's what you want to do," explained Tom. "The wand may choose the wizard, but it's the wizard that controls the wand."

"Arctus!" Again, she watched as the parchment was torn to pieces. "Damn it…"

"For Merlin's sake." Hermione heard Riddle's exasperated voice and felt his hands clasp her shoulders. Without thinking, the girl jumped up, startled, and quickly stepped away from his hands.

"Don't touch me!" She looked up to see the boy staring at her with a confused look on his handsome face, and then he sighed.

"All right, I won't touch you," he said, raising his hands, as if he was trying to show her that they were far away from her body. "Close your eyes."

"What?"

"Close your eyes, Elston." The girl almost smiled when she heard a hint of irritation in his voice. Now that was the Tom Riddle she was used to.

"If you try to do anything against me…" she said quietly, doing as he told her so, before hearing him sighing.

"What on Earth could I do against you? Do you really expect me to, I don't know, shoot a Cruciatus curse at you?"

"I don't know what goes on inside your head," said the girl, biting her tongue to keep from saying that a Cruciatus curse was the nicest thing she could see coming from him.

"I'm not mad enough to use an Unforgiveable inside Hogwarts."

"Does that mean you would use one outside the school?"

"Elston, please."

"Does it?"

"Maybe." Hermione furrowed her brows when she felt his fingers grasp her robes' sleeve, tugging at it and making her raise her wand arm.

"I told you not to touch me."

"I'm not touching you, I'm touching the fabric of your robes," he said, letting go after he adjusted her arm in the position he wanted it in; extended in front of her. "Now, Miss Elston, what is magic?"

"If I'm going to answer questions, could I keep my arm down so it won't get tired…?"

"Merlin's beard." She heard him sighing and bit her bottom lip to avoid grinning. There was something really amusing about irritating that boy. "Do as you please with your arm but answer me. What is magic?"

"Magic is energy," said Hermione and, just to annoy the other even more, kept her arm stretched out even after complaining about it.

"And to whom does it belong?"

"To the witch or the wizard."

"And what is a wand?"

"An instrument that leads the magic from our bodies to the exterior," she answered. "Like a bridge or something like that."

"Right, but it has its own magic too and that magic interferes with ours." Hermione felt Riddle tugging at her wand and closed her fingers with more strength around it. "Come on, Miss Elston, give it to me."

"And let you disarm me?" She laughed. "No way."

"Alright." The Gryffindor heard a loud noise of something hitting the wood of the tabletop next to her. "Give me yours and I'll leave it next to mine." Hermione hesitated for a few minutes before finally loosening her grip around her wand, letting Riddle take it from her and place it on the table. "You usually feel magic when you hold onto your wand, or when you make a spell, but if you concentrate, you can feel your own magic even when you're wandless."

"I've read about it before," she said, flexing her arm. "And I know we have our own magic; I mean, I remember feeling it before I entered Hogwarts, back when I could do wandless magic without even wanting to." The girl laughed, remembering the day she accidently made her classmate's hair turn blue after said kid mocked her because of her large front teeth. "But I never felt it again."

"Wizards get addicted to the usage of wands," said Riddle. "They use them so much, and are always reminded about how easier it's to perform magic while using them that they forget the greater power is inside their own body. May I touch you now?"

"Why do you want to touch me, Riddle?"

"May I?" Again, his voice trembled, as if he was losing control over his calmness.

"If you can't fight the urge." Hermione took a deep breath, telling herself not to let it show how much she disliked Riddle's closeness. Most of the time, he was just a teenage boy, a Hogwarts student, but she knew that he was also Lord Voldemort, and when she remembered that fact, the mere thought of being in his presence made her shiver… The witch actually still couldn't believe she had agreed to let him "help" her, just like how she could not believe that she had allowed him to drag her to an empty classroom and, then, disarm her. Maybe it was that freaking charm of his, the one she hated so much because she was always seeing other students and teachers melting from his kind words and nice smiles.

Soon, Riddle's fingertips brushed against her palm. Hermione wondered if it could be called a touch because his skin was barely touching hers. She was about to ask him what the hell was he trying to show her with that silly act when she felt an odd feeling on the palm of her hand, on the area bellow his fingertips. It was a warm feeling, like a tingling, that started in a centered area and then spread until it reached her fingers and her wrist.

"Can you feel it?" Hermione nodded. "I'm not using a wand and yet I can still work with my magic. I can direct it to outside my body and, if I want to, I can perform spells like that."

"Wandless magic."

"Yes. I know the size of my own power and, with that, I learned the size of my wand's power. I managed to separate one from another so my own magic can rule my wand's," he explained, and the Gryffindor felt the warmth on her hand slowly fade, retreating to the point where Riddle's fingers touched her, as if it was being sucked back into him. "Learn your magic's size. Learn how much it can work on its own, and you'll be able to know what is yours and what your wand's is."

"And how do I do that?"Hermione asked, finally opening her eyes, and found Tom's cold blue irises staring back at her.

"Perform wandless magic," he said. "Play with your magic, force it out of your body and, then, back inside. Make things float, change the colour of peoples' clothes. I don't know; the kind of things you used to do when you were little and started to show signs of magic. Use your hands… There are theories that say a person's hands are the gateway for their magic. Magic will usually work its way out of yourself through your hands, so… Move your hands when trying to do wandless spells. Make the same movements as you would do with a wand. Make your magic find its way out." Tom looked around before pointing his thin fingers at a chair, spinning his wrist and waving it. "Wingardium Leviosa." The chair floated a few centimeters away from the floor before landing with a soft 'thud'. "Try it."

Hermione did as he said and, on her first try, the chair simply trembled a bit but did not move away from the floor. The second time, though, it floated, even if for just a few minutes, before falling down again.

"That's something already," said Tom, raising an eyebrow, before looking down at his wristwatch. "Miss Elston, as much as I find our meeting interesting, I'm afraid I have to go now."

"Um, all right," she said, quickly taking her wand from the top of the table, and watched as Riddle did the same.

"I'll let you know the next time I'm able to talk to you again about your wand."

"Can it be tomorrow?" asked the witch, and she quickly cursed herself. She sounded desperate. "It's Sunday, so we don't have classes."

"It's alright," he said, and smiled at her. "See you tomorrow, then, Miss Elston."

"See you tomorrow."

Hermione watched as Tom Riddle stepped outside the empty classroom they were using. As soon as he had closed the door behind himself, she asked herself if what she had heard in his voice had really been a hint of interest, or just another faked emotion of his.

Tom usually enjoyed the meetings he organized with the other boys from Slytherin. It was a good opportunity to see how they were doing their jobs and how his plan was going on, even if it meant having to endure a few minutes listening to a few stupidities that left his housemates' mouths from time to time. That Saturday the boy actually wished he were in bed, or practicing wandless magic with Hermione Elston because, even if any of the other wizards had let a silly remark escape, Riddle simply wasn't in mood to listen to them talking at all, even if their news was good.

"My father took us there during the summer," said Canopus Lestrange, lounging on the dark couch. "We met an interesting family… pureblooded. I managed to talk to their kid, Ivan, about us. He's our age and took great interest in our cause, Tom."

"Good. And what makes you think that this Ivan… What's his surname again?"

"Karkaroff, Ivan Karkaroff."

"Will this Ivan Karkaroff be useful to us?" asked Riddle while pressing his fingers against the back of his hands, snapping his joints.

"His family is influential and has pure blood. Not to mention Karkaroff is pretty good with curses."

"What did you tell him?"

"That I served another wizard, someone who also favours the ancient families and wizarding sovereignty." Lestrange smiled as he noticed the amusement in Riddle's eyes. "That Lord Voldemort would be pleased to have people like him and his family by his side once the time comes for him to act."

"That's wonderful, Canopus," whispered Tom. "Will you keep in touch with him?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think it's good to meddle with those people?" asked Avery, grimacing. "Father says Russians are too mysterious for one to trust. They use some weird kind of magic that only they know and…"

"And isn't that good?" Tom's lips curled up to form a soft smile. "The more different kinds of magic we find, the stronger we get."

"I think we should aim at Germany." Atlas crossed his left leg, setting his ankle on his right knee, and grabbed the lower half of his leg with both hands.

"Most of Grindelwald's followers are in Germany," replied Malfoy, twisting his nose and furrowing his brows. "They are not going to abandon their leader in order to pledge allegiance to someone else who is still in the beginning of…"

"Do you really think Grindelwald will last much longer?" asked Avery. "The man has good ideas, I do recognize that, but he's too selective and pompous. I've heard he's not doing very well in his attacks in France."

"He was unlucky…"

"Yes, aiming at families whose members were actually Aurors." Atlas snorted. "No wonder he doesn't come to Great Britain. I bet the Ministry puts an Auror at each corner in every city."

"No, the Ministry is not really bothered by him. Prepared in case he appears in the middle of London, yes… But actually putting their efforts to work? No. They don't want to scare people."

"Whatever. As I said, I think we should pay more attention to Germany. I have a few mates there and, actually, I already talked with one or another about us. They seemed to be interested in our proposal," said Avery. "Also, America, has anyone thought about them?"

"It's kinda difficult to find someone our age who's interested in politics and magic there," explained Tom. "At least not with our interest… They start to practice their magic at Salem at the age of twenty. Until then, most of their witches and wizards are homeschooled or go to smaller magical schools, but they are not as immersed as we are in magical politics and all that stuff."

"Brazil then?" asked Abraxas. "They have a wizard as their president."

"Vargas?" Riddle narrowed his eyes as he recalled hearing about the man back at the orphanage.

"The Mudblood," whispered Atlas, rolling his eyes. "What, Abraxas? He is a Mudblood."

"He was an ally to Grindelwald, even if most people didn't know."

"And how do you know that, Abe?"

"Father told me," said the blonde. "He has a few acquaintances who know Vargas. Apparently he's a hell of a clever man."

"He was allied to Germany until he noticed they were getting weaker," muttered Tom, remembering what Mr. Macmillam had told Mrs. Cole once. "No… He was neutral but had a thing for the Axis, and declared Brazil to be with the Allies last year."

"What is an axis?" Lestrange eyed the smaller Slytherin, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Germany, Italy and Japan. The Allies are the countries who oppose the Axis."

"Is this about that Muggle war?" Canopus exhaled noisily. "I really don't know why you waste your time with that Muggle stuff, Tom."

"It can come in hand," explained Riddle, steepling his fingers and smirking. "We wouldn't want Getulio as an ally, believe me. If the man could turn his back to the Axis and Grindelwald as soon as he saw how they were losing power, I wouldn't expect less than having him doing to same to us. Also, Brazil is too mixed up… They do have a lot of interesting magic, I heard, but they are too mixed. I believe Ondine School alone exceeds Hogwarts in the number of Mudbloods. Imagine if we consider the other schools of the country."

"If you say so." Abraxas jerked his shoulders. "But I would give it a try."

"So, for now we have spread the word to Germany, Russia, France…"

"France?" asked Tom.

"Yes, we found some people there. Hmm… Oh, I remember now! There was another Russian bloke who showed interest in your cause, Tom," said Lestrange. "I have no idea how he found out, but he came up to me in Moscow and asked me about the Lord Voldemort I told Karkaroff about."

"I think someone overheard you, Canopus!" Avery chuckled, covering his mouth with his fist.

"I believe, Atlas, that Canopus is capable of knowing when to cast a silencing spell around himself, am I right?"

"Then how could a random passerby know what Lestrange told the other guy?" Atlas pursed his lips and gave his voice a tone that seemed to challenge the other Slytherin.

"Legilimency, obviously," answered Tom matter-of-factly.

"Come on!" exclaimed Lestrange. "I would know if someone entered my mind!"

"Good Legilimens are not felt when they invade people's thoughts." Riddle smiled and, just for a bit of amusement, touched Canopus's mind carefully. The boy didn't even flinch. "That bloke must be really good with Legilimency. What was his name?"

"Dolohov," said the other, and Tom couldn't help but notice how Abraxas perked up on the couch. "Antonin Dolohov. He's a few years older than us, though.'"

"Keep in touch with him and with Karkaroff, Canopus, if you please…" Tom interrupted himself when he heard the entrance to Slytherin's common room opening. The wizard quickly grabbed his wand and waved it, lifting the silencing spell he had set around them, and turned his head to see Walburga Black and Druella Rosier (a sixth year with dark eyes and long brown hair that was, most of the time, styled in complicated hairdos) walking in. Black's eyes quickly found the group of boys and she smiled lovingly before waving at them. "Good evening, Miss Black."

"Good evening, Mr. Riddle," replied the witch while her friend giggled and whispered something into her ear as they kept walking to their dormitory.

"Now, if you would allow me to say something, Riddle." Lestrange said, looking at the corridor which the girls had disappeared into, "I would give a chance to Walburga."

"What?"

"Walburga Black, the pretty witch that just talked to you, Riddle. I would give her a chance, you know? Date her."

"Merlin's beard, Lestrange, it's not as if I…"

"…Had time to spend with a girl?" completed Avery, laughing. "Everyone has a few minutes to spare in order to relax a bit in the company of a lady, my lord," said the Slytherin with a mocking tone. "Especially a lady like Miss Walburga Black."

Quickly, the focused atmosphere of their meeting vanished, making way for casual conversations and jokes shared amongst the boys. Tom forced himself to stay there for only a few minutes before he got up, giving them the excuse of an unfinished essay, and headed to his quarters.

Hermione placed her dark quill on the top of the front table of the classroom and stepped back. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With her wand safe in her pocket, the witch focused on her own magic, trying to lead it to her hands the way Riddle had told her. After a few minutes, she could feel a warm tingling in her fingertips and smiled. Raising her arm, Hermione flexed her wrist and, then, threw it out quickly while picturing a current of air.

"Arctus!" The girl opened her eyes in time to see the quill being pushed back by a rather strong draft, but not violent enough to damage it.

To her surprise, wandless magic was becoming less complicated ever since she started doing it like Tom Riddle had taught her on the previous day. Apparently, concentrating her magic in a specific part of her body made it easier to control, allowing her to perform some simple spells like Wingardium Leviosa, Accio, Impervius, and Alohomora.

"That was better than yesterday." Hermione turned on her heels, startled, when she heard a voice behind her.

"For Merlin's sake, Riddle, couldn't you just knock first?"

Tom was standing by the door, watching her carefully, before approaching the girl. Hermione couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and the tired expression on his face.

"Bad dream?" The witch chuckled and then pointed her hand at the quill again, whispering a hovering charm.

"What?" he asked, and the time he took to speak again, along with the tone of his voice, confirmed the Gryffindor's thoughts.

"You didn't sleep well tonight, am I right?" She smiled, lifting her hand and saw the feather doing the same movement. "You look tired."

"Classes tire all of us."

"It's Sunday." The girl ceased the spell, letting the quill slowly drop to the top of the table. "Besides, your face is the face of someone who didn't sleep very well."

"Alright, alright, I didn't sleep much last night." Riddle breathed out heavily, raising his hand to brush his eyes.

"Too much homework to do?" Hermione smiled to herself. "I managed to do most of mine after you left yesterday."

"Homework kept me awake until one in the morning." The Slytherin squinted his eyes. "And I, too, finished mine already."

"Good for you, Riddle."

"Yes, good for me, Elston," he whispered. "You managed to do the Arctus spell without a wand, that's good… And, as you see, you managed to control its intensity without the wand's magic getting in your way. Did you practice any other spells?" Hermione quickly listed the other spells she had managed to do wandlessly. "Shall we try a more complicated one?"

"For me that's okay… Riddle?"

"What?" The boy looked up as he was pocketing his own wand.

"Why are you doing this? Helping me with my magic…"

"As I said, it's my duty as…"

"Cut this Head Boy excuse, Riddle." Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "We both know it's not part of your job to practice spells with any student. Just like how we know you don't like me very much thanks to the fact I'm a Mudblood."

"I've never seen a Muggleborn call herself a Mudblood." The girl felt the need to swipe off that stupid grin that appeared on Riddle's face but contained herself.

"It's just an ugly name," she said, smiling. "We should not fear names."

"You think so?" Tom raised a dark eyebrow as he eyed her.

"They are just names," stated the Gryffindor, locking her eyes into Tom's. "And the fear of a name only increases the fear of the thing itself."

"Interesting way of thinking. Now, quit babbling and make the quill vanish."

Hermione looked at the boy for a few seconds before turning to the quill again. It was a different kind of spell… Until now she had made things move, now she had to make it disappear.

"It's the same principle," said the wizard, extending his arm and pointing at the chair behind the desk. "Evanesco."

The girl was not surprised to see the chair disappear, just like how she wasn't surprised to see the smug smile that appeared on Tom's lips. At the sight of the boy's delight, Hermione actually considered the possibility of Riddle only doing that in order to show off to her… The Gryffindor couldn't help but put herself in his place while analyzing the situation: Tom was the best student of his class – maybe the best student in the whole castle – and, well, back in her time, she used to be one of the best students too… Riddle already had a competitor, McGonagall, and now he also had her. And were there any better way to scare his rivals aside than showing them how much he could do? Minerva had spent years sitting in the same classroom as him, knowing the extent of his powers, but Hermione was new and he had to show her that he was better than her.

Oh well, that was just too amusing for her.

"All right." The Gryffindor pointed her arm to her target and concentrated, once again feeling her magic pooling on her hands. "Evanesco!"

She immediately looked to Riddle, after all, Hermione couldn't miss how his blue eyes widened as the table, and not the quill vanished.

"Was it good?" She smiled triumphantly.

"Yes. It was all right."

The witch couldn't help but think that the time she spent with Tom Riddle in that classroom was like a crazy and funny challenge. She had no idea how many spells she had managed to do that afternoon, nor could she even think about how much energy she was losing with that silly show of power between the two of them. The only thing she was sure of was that she loved to see the curious, yet annoyed, glint that appeared in Riddle's blue eyes each time she managed to accomplish one of his requirements.

A/N: Stuff about this chapter (about Getulio Vargas and the brazilian schools of magic) on my tumblr, under the tag 'stuff for fanfiction', captainbrax DOT tumblr DOT com. Also, Thams, I have no idea if you're reading this, but if you are... You've got a Helena for you, darling!

Guys, thanks so much for the reviews and follows/favs. They are amazing, ok? I hope you enjoyed this chapter and, as always, feel free to tell me what you think of it. (: