Kolybel'naya

Chapter 18: All Hallows' Eve

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Tom reclined against the post of Alphard Black's bed as he watched Abraxas organize a small set of photographs and random objects on top of his bedside table. The blond man in the biggest picture was his grandfather, Taranis Malfoy, who died thanks to an experiment gone wrong, while the stern-looking woman by his side was his grandmother, Eudora Malfoy, who had died when he was in his third year. The remnants of a broken wand lay in front of the photo had belonged to his great-grandfather, Septimus, and the little golden locket next to it, to his great-grandmother, Arista Malfoy. Riddle knew he would have to wait until Abraxas finished organizing everything, saying his prayers and lit the candle he had placed near the objects so that they could actually talk about whatever the blond wanted to. After all, it had been Malfoy who had asked him to meet him at the Slytherin dormitory because he 'needed to tell him something important'. This whole ritual had been explained to Riddle when he was in his fourth year by an eager Abraxas Malfoy who couldn't be happier to tell the other boy about the rituals he practiced on the night of October 31st.

To Tom, Halloween had always been a rather silly holiday that he had never really celebrated due to the fact the staff in the orphanage didn't encourage the children to do so, but, once he got to Hogwarts, Riddle found himself getting dragged into Halloween's celebrations every year. Most people in the castle were happy with just celebrating it with the feast, the candies and the trick-or-treat jokes, but a few of them, Malfoy had explained, used that night in order to pay respect to their ancestors. It was a religious thing and Tom had never been a very religious person, a fact that made Abraxas overwhelm him with new knowledge about all that stuff. For example, Malfoy had explained to him that most wizarding families that followed this religion believed students should be able to go back home to celebrate Samhain along with their families; he also knew they believed that in the night of October 31st the dead were, once again, amongst the living. Another really good piece of information about that day was that it was a day where he shouldn't play with Abraxas Malfoy or his beliefs. When they were fifteen, a Gryffindor had the infelicity of making fun of Abraxas, about the fact he was leaving the Halloween feast early in order to take care of his tributes, and ended up with a nice black eye. There were only a few things that made Malfoy really annoyed and making fun of his religion was one of them.

After watching Abraxas light the candle on the bedside table, Riddle looked around the room and his gaze fell upon the windows. The Dark Lake was greenish outside the glass, and he caught a glimpse of a cluster of fish swimming near it. The fact the Slytherin common room was under the lake had always been his favorite thing about it and, sometimes, when he stood by the window in his new dormitory, looking down at the grounds of Hogwarts, he missed his old dormitory, even if he had to share it with other people.

"So," said Abraxas, finally getting up from the spot in front of the table where he had been kneeling. "I need to talk to you."

"I wouldn't be here otherwise." Riddle sat down on Alphard's bed. "Where are the others?"

"Up at the Great Hall already," explained Malfoy, sitting on the end of his own bed, opposite of Alphard's. "Remember that man Canopus talked about? The Russian bloke, Dolohov?"

"Yes. What about him?"

"Tell Lestrange not to contact him." Tom furrowed his brows. "I'll do it."

"I believe Canopus can do it by himself…"

"I know Dolohov, Tom. His mother was an old acquaintance of my mum. Believe me, it'll be better for someone who knows him better to talk to him about this whole thing," said Abraxas. "He's a bit paranoid. Thinks everyone is plotting his murder or something like that. But he's a good wizard… I mean, he's good with magic."

"How good?"

"Well, he managed to break into Canopus' mind without being noticed, that's already something, isn't it? And he's great with curses. He likes to… experiment with new formulas and create pretty nasty spells during his free time." Abraxas laughed, quietly. "And he does not like Muggles. Not one bit."

"Most pure-blooded wizards don't like Muggles."

"Oh, no, but with Antonin it's different. His hatred is more… Passionate." Tom narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. "He had a sister, you see, her name was Tatiana, Tatiana Dolohov. She died a few years ago. I don't know what happened – I was lucky to at least know she had died, he never talks to anyone about her – but it has to do with Muggles, from what I picked up from his story. He kind of swore revenge upon his dear Tanya and now he enjoys torturing random Muggles he finds on the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg."

All right, that Dolohov bloke seemed to be more interesting now. People like Malfoy, the Black cousins, Avery and Lestrange always held a certain dislike against Muggles, but people like Dolohov… Well, they did not only dislike Muggles or thought they were inferior; they actually hated them for something they had done. That was the kind of person that would enjoy the most their work under his command.

"Thank you for the information, Abraxas," said Tom, smiling to the other, before getting up. "And, all right, you talk to Dolohov."

"I'll do it. He'll like you, Tom, you seem to be his kind of person," said Malfoy, moving to sit on the centre of his bed and stretching out his arm to grab a book that was hidden under his pillow.

"Will you stay here?"

"Yes, I'm not in the mood to attend the feast." The blond shrugged. "I asked Canopus to bring me some sweets, though. What about you?"

"I'll probably just go to the kitchens and ask for something to eat there. I don't fancy having to endure those Gryffindors yelling and making stupid jokes today."

"All right. Good night, Tom."

"'Night, Abraxas."

Hermione pushed her hair back, annoyed, before looking around the place. The kitchen was filled with little house-elves running up and down with trays of delicious looking food. She could have been at the Halloween feast, but her head was pounding and the noise up there would only serve to make it worse. The girl also didn't feel like sitting at a table full of Halloween sweets without having Ron Weasley sitting by her side, stuffing his mouth with all the food he could fit into it. It just seemed wrong to do so.

So she went down to the kitchen. The place was filled with the tinkle of dishes clashing against one another, but it was still better than the noise of people laughing and talking too loudly that was filling the Great Hall right now. There were the elves too. She liked them. She had even managed to start a conversation with a tiny elf called Winny and the house-elf that had brought her a tray of Cauldron cakes.

"How do you even know how to get in here?" Hermione felt her stomach churn when she recognized the voice that had caused the house-elves to get desperate. Every time someone entered the kitchen, they hurried to get them a chair and ask if they wanted something as if they feared being punished if they didn't do so. When she turned to look, a house-elf was bowing to Tom Riddle. "A cup of tea. No sugar and no milk," he said to the creature before looking back to her. "Well?"

"Charlus told me. You're not the only one who knows all the secrets of the castle," Hermione answered, taking a bite of Cauldron cake while the boy approached her, sitting on a chair opposite her. The girl adjusted herself on her chair, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as she remembered what she had seen during their Defense class.

"I thought you would prefer spending your first and last Halloween at Hogwarts with your friends," said Riddle, eyeing the food.

"I'm not feeling well." She pointed at her head. "Headache."

"Have you tried going to the Hospital Wing? I've noticed you haven't been feeling too well in the last few days. Abraxas told me you left earlier during Defense, after the duels."

"There's no need for that." She pushed the tray towards him. Voldemort or not, it was almost pitiful the way Riddle kept looking at those cakes. "Help yourself, please."

"Thank you," he whispered, grabbing a cake and biting it.

"What about you? The Great Hall does not deserve your presence?" she asked but quickly regretted doing so. Once again, she was playing with fire.

"Too much noise, too many silly people," said Tom. "I'm not in mood for it."

"Are the others there…?"

"Of course. Do you think they would lose the chance of pulling pranks on the other students and getting food at the same time?" Riddle rolled his eyes. "They love it."

"Pulling pranks and getting free sweets." Hermione laughed. "I bet Malfoy is enjoying all of this. Something tells me he likes this kind of stuff."

"Abraxas is not there." The witch frowned. Why wouldn't Abraxas be at the feast with his friends? Had Riddle done something to him? "He stayed at the dormitory. Abraxas is not a great fan of the Halloween feast; he prefers to stay on his own during Samhain."

"Oh…" Religion. That made sense. "What about you?"

"Me? Halloween means nothing to me. It's not part of my religion or anything. I just respect Abraxas in that aspect."

Hermione nodded, staring at the other. This Tom seemed different from the Tom that almost killed Atlas Avery during the duel. This Tom was a boy that seemed to be happy with the simple fact he had something to eat, not the wizard who seemed to only be satisfied once he had rendered Avery unconscious. That was curious.

"How is the research for Amortentia going?" asked Hermione, trying to get rid of the heavy silence that had set upon them.

"It's going well, I think," he said just when a house-elf came running, levitating a cup of tea to the table. Riddle didn't even look down at the creature.

"Thank you!" said the girl, stretching her neck to look at the house-elf, who bowed down before running away.

"Did you just say 'thank you' to a house-elf?" asked Tom, arching an eyebrow and keeping himself from laughing.

"You should have done that," said Hermione, matter-of-factly. "But as you didn't-"

"It's a house-elf; it doesn't need to be thanked." Riddle looked down to the little creatures, looking rather disgusted. "It's their job to serve us."

"When Dr. Mazarovsky healed you, when you got pneumonia, did you thank him?" the witch asked and, as soon as the Muggle's name was mentioned, the boy's head snapped up.

"What did you say? What did I tell you about not…?"

"Did you thank him for saving your life or not?" she insisted, ignoring the furious look Riddle was shooting in her direction. Hermione didn't even know the whole story about Riddle getting sick. All she knew was that he had fallen ill with pneumonia and that Alexei had managed to heal him. That was what Anna had mentioned to her.

"Yes."

"And what he did was just his job," said Hermione. "Just like what the elf just did was his job."

"Alexei healed me from pneumonia, Elston," Tom frowned. "He did not serve me tea like the house-elf just did."

"Both jobs deserve to be thanked."

"Oh, come on…"

Hermione shook her head and used a hand to massage her temple before pushing the tray of cakes away. It was incredible how a small conversation with Riddle managed to make her lose her appetite so quickly. She almost jumped when Tom's hand covered hers.

"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to pull her hand from his grip.

"Just stay still." Riddle's fingers closed around her hand, making it impossible for her to pull away. Soon, the girl felt a warm feeling crawling up her hand and arm, making it feel limp. Magic. Tom's magic was making its way up her limb and neck, reaching her head in a few minutes. Not long after the warmth reached her head, Hermione felt the pounding in it soften. "Better?"

"What did you do?" she asked, suddenly feeling light-headed.

"I used my magic to relax your muscles," explained Tom. "This way the muscles around your skull relaxed and stopped pressing eases the pain."

Hermione stared at the Slytherin, agape. She still felt his magic working its way inside her and that was weird but, at the same time, good, after all, it was his magic that was making her feel so relaxed.

"That's pretty brilliant."

Riddle let a tiny smile appear on his lips just when the witch felt a shiver run across her body. She shuddered and, soon, the boy's hand left hers.

"You should try a muscle relaxant potion next time you get a headache," said Riddle, going back to his food.

"I'll remember that next time- oh! Before I forget: the book you asked me to ask Alexei to send has arrived. It's up in my dormitory, so if you want to go up there with me, I can give it to you…"

"Are you asking me to enter Gryffindor Tower with you?" asked Tom with a smug smile on his face.

"I'm asking you to go there and wait outside the Fat Lady's portrait until I get the book and come back to give it to you," she corrected him, getting up. "I bet you can read it tonight. It's still early."

Riddle looked down at the food and turned to an elf, asking him to send some of it to his dormitory before stalking after the girl. The walk to Gryffindor Tower was quiet, which was a good thing, because Hermione was starting to think Tom was way too talkative that night. When they caught sight of the Fat Lady, the witch quickened her pace in order to reach the portrait before the other, muttering the password so that he wouldn't hear. Tom sighed as he found himself standing in front of the Fat Lady, waiting while the portrait kept babbling about random things.

"Here!" He heard Hermione's voice, and the portrait slid, opening the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. The girl stepped out of it and handed him a heavy, dark book. "Neurophysiology."

"Thank you, Miss Elston." He grabbed the book and let his fingers caress the spine.

"I hope your night turns out to be really exciting with this friend of yours." She pointed at the book. "And the sweets you asked the elves to take to you. I, on the other hand, will go to bed. Your little trick made me sleepy as hell."

"Then, good night to you, Miss Elston."

"Good night, Riddle."

Her magic was still making his hand tingle. Tom had used his own magic, pushed it inside her body in order to ease her headache, and, still, her magic managed to get into his body. It was silent and slow, coming and going, but strong. He was used to feel people's magic, but usually they didn't force their way into him so easily… Abraxas', for example, needed his permission to affect him, while Avery's was like an energy that collided with his skin but never crept its way inside. Hermione's was like Malfoy's, but it didn't need permission, it simply pushed his own magic aside and entered his body, staying in it for quite some time.

It was interesting, he couldn't deny it. It was in moments like this one that he saw how powerful Hermione was. And not only powerful, he had to recognize after all the time he spent with her in those meetings of them and classes: she was intelligent, she knew how to use her power, how to shape it the way she wanted.

That was all he could think of while he laid down on his bed and stared at the open book on his lap. The soft tingling on his hand kept him from paying attention, drawing all of his thoughts in Hermione's direction. Tom sighed, leaning back against the headboard and staring at the golden ring on his finger, playing with it. Hermione Elston could be of great use if he managed to convince her to trust him. God knew how useful it would be, in several ways, to have someone as witty as Elston on his side.

Riddle closed the book and put it aside before getting up. Looking at his watch, the boy saw it was still October 31st. Although thinking about Hermione was amusing, he thought it would be better for him to do it another time, when he was fully rested, and not with a light headache starting to build up on the nape of his neck. The boy walked up to his table, opening a paper box an owl had delivered into his dormitory earlier that night. Abraxas had sent it to him, a candle like the one he lighted up on the shrine by his bed. Riddle had expressed his curiosity regarding the fact the other believed the Samhain was the night during which the dead came back to walk amongst the living several times and, apparently, Malfoy had remembered it today.

As he couldn't concentrate on his reading and he didn't want to think about Elston yet, Tom thought it wouldn't hurt if he did the same thing his classmate had done earlier. Cleaning his table, the wizard took the candle from the box and put it on its corner before walking up to his bed, pulling his trunk from under it and opening it. He had placed several spells in it, creating various pockets protected by magic into which he kept a few personal belongings. Opening one of them, Riddle took out two pieces of a broken wooden stick. Mrs. Cole had given it to him when he turned ten, and told him that it was one of the few belongings his mother had with her on the night she died. The others were her dress and shoes, which were thrown away after she died. The orphanage staff never knew what the hell that broken stick was, of course, but they kept it to give it him, as they would do with most of the parent's belongings.

After gently dropping it on his bed, Tom went back to fumbling with the pocket of the trunk, trying to find another piece of the broken wand in it but, instead, he felt his fingers brush against something leathery. Frowning, the wizard grabbed the object and pulled it form the pocket. It was a small, black notebook. Clenching his jaw and feeling his heart skip a beat, the boy opened it just to catch a glimpse of what seemed to be a sketch of a face before closing the notebook again and throwing it inside the trunk. He closed the lid and pushed it under his bed once again before grabbing the wand with all the tenderness he had, and walked back to the table.

Placing it next to the candle, he stared at the arrangement for a while before kneeling down in front of the shrine and using his wand to light it up.

"I dedicate this space for those whose blood runs through me," he whispered, mimicking Abraxas' words.

Tom raised his hand to brush his fingers against the wand, caressing it. Just as he did so, a soft shiver ran along his hand to his wrist. Tom laughed quietly. He was not sure if what was supposed to happen was what he expected to see, but something inside himself made him feel pretty pleased with what he got.

A/N: I guess I can say it here instead of on tumblr: Hermione had a tensional headache, this means the muscles around her head were all tight around her skull. Riddle using magic to make her muscles relax will make the pain stop and make her feel a bit dizzy because she'll be all relaxed. This chapter was written after talking a lot with Vika (highonbooks) about Abraxas' religion, so I guess I have to thank her for that :3

Thanks also to Shadow6116 for beta reading the chapter, and to everyone who reviews/favourited/followed the story until now. And I forgot to say, but Koly won in second place as Most Promising Harry Potter Fanfiction in the Energize WIP Awards. :DD Thanks to those who voted for it.