A/N: Thanks Shadow6116, for beta reading this chapter. (:
Kolybel'naya
Chapter 14: Empty
There was one single thing Tom liked about Quidditch, and it was the fact that Hogwarts castle practically emptied out when there was a match. This meant he could spend a few hours enjoying the welcoming emptiness of the place; the lack of students crowding the corridors, and the nice silence that took over the castle. Tom liked quiet places; he had always liked them ever since he was a child, even though it was almost impossible to find a room that was not filled with the noise of crying children in the orphanage. When he got at Hogwarts, he had discovered that the castle had several places most of the students didn't know about, and those were his favourite places to spend time at when he felt he couldn't stand the loud noise from the Great Hall or the chatting in the Slytherin common room.
When there was a Quidditch match, it was as though the whole castle had turned into those quiet corners where he would hide in from time to time, and he couldn't help but love it. When he first arrived at Hogwarts, the other boys from his house would talk so much about Quidditch that he was curious about the sport… Until their first Flying lesson where he discovered that flying was, definitely, not his thing. After that, the first match he watched turned out to be a great waste of time. It was just a bunch of people flying and tossing a ball to each other while a single person from each team looked after a tiny, winged ball. It was not so different from the Muggle soccer or handball… The only difference was the flying.
After discovering the uselessness of the sport, Tom stopped attending the matches. It saved him the headache he usually got after staying too long in the middle of the cheering crowds, and gave him enough time to do something actually useful like, as he was doing that Saturday, researching that Fyodor Basmanov and his lovely group of bloodthirsty wizards that served Tsar Ivan IV. The subject had been on his mind since Merrythought had talked about it during Defence – from everything the Professor said that day, all that nonsense about Muggles having a magic of their own, this was the only thing that seemed to have a bit of importance – and now that he had to wait for Elston to come back from the Quidditch match, he thought he could busy himself with a bit of research just for the sake of avoiding boredom.
Basmanov was a really interesting wizard, from what he was reading. Young and powerful, he was one of the most important members of the Ivan's twisted little police, completely devoted to the Tsar, and didn't think twice before launching a curse on an enemy. A skilled Legilimens, too, from what The History of Dark Magic Across Europe told him. Actually the whole concept of the oprichniks was starting to amaze him: a group of powerful wizards whose duty was to hunt down traitors, sweeping them away and snapping at their heels like their symbol – the dog's head and the broom – would suggest. A magical organization with absolute power within a Muggle government. Better: a dark magical organization with more power than most Muggles within a government.
After a good hour of reading about Basmanov, Tom's head snapped up from the book he had in hand when he heard a soft hum coming from behind the bookshelves that surrounded him in the library. Putting the book down, he got up and tried to find the source of the noise, ready to ask them to stop because that was a library, for God's sake, a place where silence should be prized. With the phrase ready on the tip of his tongue, the Slytherin turned the corner, but quickly managed to swallow his request when he saw the translucent Grey Lady floating near a window, barely visible now that she was standing right next the sunlight that streamed through the glass. It took a moment for her to feel his presence and stop humming as she turned to face him.
"Good afternoon, Miss Ravenclaw." The boy bowed his head and saw the ghost doing the same. "How are you doing?"
"Well," she said in her hollow voice, (Tom liked her and that quiet, yet convinced, voice of hers). "Why are you not at the pitch with the others?"
"You know very well that I'm not a great fan of Quidditch, my lady." A gentle smile spread over his lips as he slowly approached her. "I much prefer to use the time I could be watching a match to study."
"I still ask myself why you are not wearing my mother's House colours." The woman gave him a faint smile before sighing and turning back to the window.
"I really appreciate Ravenclaw, but I can't deny that I'm more of a Slytherin." He walked up to the spot next to the ghost, feeling a quick shiver go through his body as he did so.
"Is it cold?" the Grey Lady asked, furrowing her brows.
"No, it's pretty warm today, my lady," said Riddle, adjusting his coat and looking outside to the shimmering green grass below.
"Oh." The woman stretched her arm out until her hand went across the glass. "Forgive my curiosity regarding such trivial thing as the weather. It's just that the sun can deceive someone who can't feel anything."
"There's nothing to be sorry about, Miss Ravenclaw." He smiled, watching as she let her arm fall to her side again. "May I ask which song you were humming before? It was quite lovely."
"I don't know its name, or its lyrics," she explained, looking down to him while brushing a strand of dark hair away from her face. "A friend taught me, but I forgot the name and the lyrics."
"I see."
As silence fell over them, Riddle looked at the ghost, examining her. Ever since he had first stepped into Hogwarts, the ghosts had always been a huge target of his attention. For some reason the thought of talking to someone who was already dead was greatly amusing to him. They knew so much, had seen so much… He still remembered that the first ghost he saw was her, the Grey Lady, as she slowly floated across the tiny room where the first years waited to be sorted. His eleven-year-old self was mesmerized by her: her elegance, her beautiful and sad face, her quietness, her long hair that floated behind her... She was still as beautiful as he remembered but no longer affected him the same way. Maybe it was because he had grown used to seeing the woman floating around Hogwarts, who knew? But he still liked her, yes, especially after discovering she was, in fact, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw.
"Are you feeling all right, Mr. Riddle?"
"Hm?" He blinked, taken away from his thoughts, and saw that she was now staring at him. "Yes, of course."
"Good, we wouldn't like to see your welfare impaired." The ghost smiled at him, though it didn't really reach her dark eyes.
"We?"
"Hogwarts, of course." She shrugged slightly. "You know very well that everyone in this castle likes you, Mr. Riddle. No one would like to see you feeling bad."
Even though Helena Ravenclaw was the daughter of the wisest of the founders, Tom knew very well she was wrong with this matter, but didn't feel like correcting her.
Hermione had always enjoyed watching Quidditch, even though it meant she had to be dead worried every time her friends were on their broomsticks. She knew how dangerous the sport could be and how many accidents – serious accidents – could happen during one single match, but still, she enjoyed it. To her surprise, the atmosphere at the pitch during a game in the 1940s was almost like the one at a game in her own time. Sure, there was no Luna Lovegood with her lion hat, or Lee Jordan commenting on the game and making everyone laugh, just as there was no Harry chasing the Snitch or Ron guarding the hoops.
But the Forties had Charlus Potter chasing after the Quaffle with such a speed that made her worry he would lose control of his broomstick. There was also Minerva McGonagall, protecting her fellow Chasers every time a Slytherin tried to steal the ball from them. Hermione couldn't help but find it amusing how passionate the other girl was about the sport… She had heard Minerva talking about Quidditch, yes, but to see her in action was a completely different thing. She would never imagine that McGonagall would break another player's nose by kicking him in the face after he tried to hold her broom and slow her down the way she did to Canopus Lestrange.
After one hour, Slytherin ended the match when their Seeker, Cygnus Black, caught the Snitch, but still, Gryffindor won with ten points ahead from their goals. Although the Gryffindor crowd cheered, she could see the players were not satisfied by the serious looks on their face as they landed.
As soon as the match ended, Hermione made her way to the castle. She had agreed on meeting with Riddle after Quidditch so they could keep working on her wandless magic, and Hermione was a bit afraid the Slytherin would tell her she kept him waiting because of a silly thing like Quidditch or whatever was the excuse he had to annoy her that day. It took her a few minutes to reach the classroom the two of them were now using to practice and, when she did so, Tom Riddle was already there, sitting on the top of one of the tables with a heavy-looking book in his hands.
"Hello," she called, closing the wooden door behind herself and putting her bag on the top of a table. Riddle lowered the book and stared at her for a few seconds before getting down from the table. "Your house lost the match, if you want to know."
"Oh, I thought Black would catch the Snitch by the way he was bragging about how much he had been practicing," said Tom as he grabbed his wand and waved it, pushing the tables and chairs to the sides of the classroom before pocketing the pale, yew wand once again and walking to the middle of the room. "Put your wand away and let's start, shall we?"
Hermione nodded, taking her cloak off and leaving her wand on the top of it before going to stand in front of Riddle, a few meters away from him.
"It's a duel like any other, alright?"
"Curses are out," she said.
"Of course, we don't want any of us ending up in the infirmary, do we?" Riddle smiled and the girl felt her insides turn. She had spent quite some time with him since they began with the lessons, and he hadn't let that creepy smile show up until now. It was odd and made her think his words were nothing but pure lies. Hermione breathed deeply, watching as the Slytherin turned his hands, making his wrists crack before raising his right hand, swinging it in front of himself. It took a mere second for her to jump aside and avoid the yellow light that appeared in the middle of the air.
It was her turn now. Hermione raised her hands and focused on the spell's incantation – Incarcerous – and saw a large rope appear and rush towards the boy. But before they could actually wrap themselves around him, they vanished. The smile on Riddle's lips grew wider as he moved his hand once again, a subtle movement. It didn't take even a second before the Gryffindor raised her hands to cover her ears as a loud, ringing sound filled them.
"The Tinnitus spell has a larger spectrum, Miss Elston." She could hear Tom's voice on the background, muffled by the spell's noise. "It's easier to strike the opponent with it than with an Incarcerous."
Still covering her ears and trying hard to concentrate even with the spells effect still on, the girl looked up to the wizard. Labirinto… And soon it was Riddle who was looking around with wide eyes, turning pale as he seemed to lose the control of his legs. The boy stumbled around until he gripped one of the chairs, holding onto it before slowly letting his body slide to the floor. Hermione couldn't help but smile a bit before frowning again due to the buzzing in her ear. What a great pair they made inside that classroom; she, unable to think straight thanks to that horrible noise coming from inside her ears, and he, sprawled on the floor as he waited for the spell to wear off.
When the witch noticed the ringing finally starting to slowly fade, she made her way to Riddle and knelt down next to him. The boy was staring at the ceiling and his eyes kept moving from side to side as if he was trying to follow something invisible.
"Are you all right?" she asked when the noise finally vanished.
"Do I look all right?"
"No." She chuckled and received a grimace from him as an answer. "Labirinto also has a large spectrum."
"I've noticed," Tom growled. "How long does it take for it to wear off?"
"A few minutes, I guess. Just stay down so you won't fall and hurt yourself. So, did I do well?"
"Can we wait a bit before we start to talk about it…?"
"Come on, it's your balance that is impaired, not your speech." Hermione gave him a light shove on his shoulder.
"Yes, yes, you did well, for God's sake, what's up with you Gryffindors, and the inability to have patience?"
"Come on, Mr. Riddle, I've been pretty patient during these last few weeks." She laughed. "I've been meeting up with you and never once let the urge of hexing you take over me."
"I give you no reason to want to hex me, Elston," said Tom as he turned his head to stare at her, although his eyes kept moving as if he couldn't focus.
"Oh, of course not!" The girl shook her head. "Your smug tone of voice is always pleasant to hear, Mr. Riddle, believe me. Just like those I-am-way-better-than-you looks you shoot me from time to time. Not to mention that I can still hear your lovely words, back from London, echoing in my ears… Something along the lines of 'don't think I'm going to be friends with you, Mudblood.'"
"I never called you that," he whispered, looking away from her face.
"Not out loud but I bet this nice nickname has already crossed your mind several times when it comes to me." She sighed. "By the way, why didn't you tell your Slytherin friends I'm a Muggleborn? I know you didn't because they didn't start annoying me about that."
The witch watched the boy, who didn't say a thing. He simply kept looking up, his eyes slowly stopping moving erratically as the minutes passed by. It was weird to see him like that, looking almost vulnerable, although she knew Riddle could make her fly across the room with just a thought if he wanted to, even in that state. Tom Riddle was anything but vulnerable.
"Or you didn't tell them because then you would have to let them know you met me before the classes started?" she asked in a low voice, seeing how Tom's eyebrows furrowed a bit. "And then you would have to tell them you met me at the orphanage and they don't know their friend, the great Tom Riddle, lives in a Muggle orphanage."
"Stop."
"Why don't you tell them? I mean, they surely wouldn't kick you out of Slytherin dungeon as you seem to be some kind of leader for their little group…"
"Elston, stop," he demanded, his voice sounding cold and firm. "My life outside Hogwarts is no one's business but mine. There's no reason for them to know where I live."
Hermione looked at him for a few more minutes before sighing while tucking her hair behind her ear.
"You know what?" she asked, looking around. "This didn't even look like a duel, it was too quick."
"Indeed, but even if we're done with the duelling part, you already proved you're good at it. Your Labirinto didn't even need the movement of your hands and already did a pretty good damage," said Riddle, slowly sitting up on the floor.
"Is the effect still on?" asked Hermione, watching Tom lowering his head and rubbing his eyes with the tip of his fingers.
"Yes. I believe my vestibular system must be weak or something. Abraxas' spell did the same thing, making me feel dizzy for quite a while."
"So if I want to take you down on a duel I just need to cast a Labirinto."
"You wish you could take me down so easily." He laughed, leaning against a chair and taking a deep breath. "Miss Elston, could you do me a favor?"
"As long as it does not involve cursing someone else or doing some kind of really dark magic." An involuntary smile tugged on her lips as she saw Riddle's eyes light up with what looked like humour.
"I just want you to write a letter to Dr. Mazarovsky," he said. "I heard McGonagall saying you're writing to a friend of yours from the orphanage, so I guess you found a way to write them without letting them see the owls… I need to ask Alexei for a book, for our Potions' project."
"And why would Alexei have a book about potions?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Not about potions. Ask him for a book about physiology, neurophysiology," the boy explained and the witch noticed how his voice was now sounding tired. Was it possible that such a silly spell had managed to mess with him so much? "Oh, and pharmacology."
"You're still on that idea about how Amortentia is not only an illusion, aren't you?" She sighed. "But okay, I'll do it for you, but just because it is for our project."
"Whatever you say, Elston." He watched her getup from the floor and straighten up her skirt.
"Are you staying here?" Hermione asked, walking away from him and reaching for her wand and cloak.
"Yes, I'll wait a few minutes before getting up."
"Alright. Oh!" Riddle's head turned to her and he furrowed his brows as he stared at the happy expression that appeared on her face. "Anna Parker, from the orphanage, wrote me a few days ago and told me some good news."
"Oh, tell me, did Sebastian finally manage to get into that stupid army?" the boy rolled his eyes, sighing.
"Nothing to do with Sebastian." She smiled. "Martha is pregnant!"
Hermione expect a lack of reaction from Riddle, as it was a usual thing coming from him, but she truly didn't see the quick confused and almost distressed look that crossed his face for a split second.
"What?"
"Martha is pregnant," the witch repeated. "She'll be a mum and Alexei will…"
"I know very well what a pregnancy implies, Elston." Hermione scowled at the coldness in his voice and took a step back.
"Okay… I," whispered the girl as she saw the familiar inexpressiveness taking over Riddle's face once again. "I think I'll be going now, I bet Minerva must be looking for me. Bye."
As soon as the Gryffindor closed the door, Tom let a frustrated growl escape from his mouth. Martha was pregnant. Martha was having a baby. Martha was going to have a child of her own, her and Alexei's. Blood of their blood, flesh of their flesh… Who needed an inconvenient foster child when they could have their own? Who needed a grown, parentless and troubled teenager when they could have a perfect, lovely baby in their arms?
A loud crack echoed inside the classroom and Tom lowered his head as if to protect himself when he heard the sound of glass being broken. Looking up, the Slytherin saw that one of the windows was now smashed. 'Control yourself,' he thought, focusing on locking his magic deep inside himself. He knew very well his magic could go crazy whenever he got angry. It had happened several times before, and the last thing he wanted now was to catch someone's attention with accidental magic.
A/N: Another chapter, yay. Hope you like it and thanks everyone who left reviews on the previous chapter (: More about this chapter (actually, just a little thing about Tom's nystagmus, aka the movements of his eyes after the spell) on my tumblr (by the way, the URL changed, now it's themuggleriddle, the information about kolybel is still under the tag stuff-for-fanfiction). As always, reviews are always welcome (: