Kolybel'naya
Chapter 19: The House on the Hill
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Tom didn't remember falling asleep, but he knew very well that if he did, he would have fallen asleep on his bed, at the Head's dormitory, at Hogwarts, and not on a couch in the middle of a unknown drawing room. Well, not completely unknown, but as he did not know all the details in it yet, the boy considered it to be unknown to him, after all, he had only been there once in his life and it wasn't on the best of lights.
Maybe it was because of the memory of the last time he stepped into that room that he quickly sat up, looking around with widened eyes, as soon as he realized where he was. The place was impeccably organized and clean, and the soft light entering through the windows gave it an almost dream-like atmosphere, as all the objects seemed to gleam under the sunlight, not giving away any vestige of dust. It was a different sight from the one he knew – dark, illuminated only by the lampshades next to the couch – and Tom didn't know if this change was good or bad.
The wizard slowly walked up to the door, his heart beating faster now as he tried to hide his anxiety and looked for the exit. He had no idea of how he ended up there, but he wouldn't stay long, he had to get away from that damned house before someone…
Riddle gasped and, instinctively, pressed his body against the wall in order to avoid falling, as he caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure standing near the window behind the black grand piano in the corner of the room. Feeling his heart almost escaping through his mouth, Tom narrowed his eyes, trying to focus his sight on the person by the window.
"What the hell are you doing here?" the boy sneered, clenching his jaw and feeling his panic vanish, making space for an uncontrolled anger. "You're not supposed to be here! You're supposed to be-!"
"Buried seven feet deep into the ground, I know." It was weird to hear the man's voice not sounding panicked and broken with sobs. It was easier not to like him when he sounded pathetically desperate… Not that the melancholic tone in his voice now didn't make him sound pathetically miserable, but Tom preferred the panic to the apathetic misery.
"That's great," grumbled Tom, closing his eyes and massaging his temples. "I'm now dreaming about a stupid Muggle."
"It's not really a dre-"
"Of course it's a dream!" shouted Riddle and he saw the man recoil against the window. "You're dead! You've been dead for a whole year now! I saw you. I did it myself!"
The man didn't move. Being against the light that streamed in through the windows made it impossible for Tom to make out the expression on his face, but it was not as if he needed to see it to know the other was probably with some exaggerated expression of worry. The boy looked around once again. Everything was too quiet, only in a dream an ambient like that would be so silent.
"I need to talk to you-"
"Oh, you need to talk to me!" Riddle laughed, shaking his head and starting to walk again, going for the other door in the room, the one on the opposite side of the piano. "After you're dead, you want to talk to me."
"Look, I'm sorry." Tom grabbed the doorknob and tried to pull the door open but it was locked. "But I really need-"
"You started to be sorry when I killed your dear mum and dad," sneered Riddle, noticing how the man was not going to come out of his spot by the window, as if there he would be protected by something, maybe the damned piano. "But guess what? I couldn't care less for your apologies. All I want from you is that you disappear from my damned life, do you understand? It's enough having to be reminded of you and your filthy family every time someone calls my name or when I look in the mirror."
"Tom…"
"You are pathetic, you know?" asked the boy, turning around to stare at the other again. "Everything about you is pathetic: your tone of voice, your stupid sad face, your pleads for forgiveness, your dependence on your parents… You're just a Muggle. A disgusting Muggle that is better dead. I did a favour to the world when I rid it from you and your parents."
Riddle turned to go back to the other door, the one he had been aiming before seeing the man. It was, too, locked.
"It's just a dream," he whispered to himself. "It's all inside your head. You're in Hogwarts and you're alone, there is no pathetic Muggle-"
"Can you shut up about how pathetic I am and listen to me! ?" Tom's eyes widened when he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning him around and holding him against the closed door. It was baffling to look at the man's face. It was like looking at an older version of himself, even if the man's face was not entirely like his own: his nose was not as delicate as Tom's, his jaw was squarer and the confident look Riddle usually wore on his face was not on the man's at all.
"Or what? Are you going to ground me, dad?" the boy practically spat the last word and that was enough to make the other let go of his shoulders and take a step back. "I think that after leaving your son rotting in an orphanage for more than seventeen years, you kind of loose the right of inflicting any punishment against him."
"Please, Tom, just listen to what I have to say."
"Did you listen to what my mother had to say before you abandoned her?" asked Tom, furrowing his brows as he stared at the man's face. If it was possible for him to look even guiltier, he did. "I didn't think so."
His father stared at him for a long minute and Tom could see he was restraining himself from breaking down like he did last time they saw each other. The man's hands were trembling and he pressed his lips against one another, as if trying to come up with something to say.
"Don't go to Hogsmead," the Muggle blurted out the words so quickly and quietly that Riddle almost didn't get them. "Avoid the village."
"What?" The boy narrowed his eyes before tossing his head back and laughing out loud. "How the hell do you even know what Hogsmead is? Oh, yes, you're a dream. You're my subconscious being an arse and ruining my sleep. Nothing more than that."
"Tom, please, just do as I said," pleaded the man. "Avoid Hogsmead."
"Being my subconscious or not, I really don't want to talk to you. Not today and not any other day, ever, do you understand that? So, go away and leave alone! Do what you did best during the past seventeen years! Leave me alone!"
"Riddle looks like as if he slept on a bed full of Bowtruckles," whispered Minerva as she stirred the contents of her cauldron. "Someone should drag him to a decent bed and force him to sleep."
"Since when do you worry about the wellbeing of Slytherins, Minnie?" asked Charlus, arching an eyebrow.
"You worry about the wellbeing of a specific Slytherin all the time, my dear Mr. Potter." The girl gave him a mocking smile.
"There is a huge difference between Dorea and Riddle." This time it was Hermione who spoke. She didn't even raise her eyes from the plant she was cutting with a small knife on the top of the table.
"Dorea is lovely, Riddle is a monster," said Potter.
"He's right next to us," whispered McGonagall.
"You were talking about him first." The boy imitated his friend's tone of voice before laughing. "All right, maybe not a monster, but he's a git. He and his group of friends." Potter shook his head, missing the serious stare he got from Abraxas, who was sitting in front of Riddle at the table next to theirs.
"Shh. One of the dogs is looking at you," murmured Septimus. "You don't want him telling his owner about how you're talking bad things about him."
"Malfoy better pay more attention to his cauldron unless he wants to blow it up again," said Charlus, raising his chin and letting a smug smile appear on his lips. "By the way, did he mess your project up already, Hermione?"
"Malfoy? No, he's doing very well until now," she answered, giving a quick look towards the Slytherins. Minerva was right: Riddle was a wreck. He had dark bags under his bloodshot eyes and even his hair was not as tidy as usual. He also had a horrible bad humoured expression on his face. The girl lowered her head again, concentrating on her work, when Tom got up from his chair and walked to the ingredients' cabinet. She was lucky they didn't have a meeting to talk about their project that day, because, from the look on his face, Tom Riddle would only want to humiliate every one who crossed paths with him or do any bad thing that would make him feel better. Hermione had noticed, since the beginning of the class, how the boy was not even trying to restrain himself from showing how irritated he felt. The wonders a bad night of sleep could do to someone.
"Oh God, Riddle!" Hermione's head snatched up as she heard Minerva, next to her, shriek. Tom was standing by their table, apologising to McGonagall. "Look at where you go, you could have made me drop that damned cauldron."
"I'm sorry, Minerva," whispered Riddle, eyeing the Gryffindor girl that was still scolding at him, before turning around and going back to his table.
"He really needs to get some sle-"
Before Hermione could hear the end of the other's phrase, she heard another shriek coming from Minerva just as the girl jumped back, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. The bottom of McGonagall's cauldron had melted and her unfinished potion was now leaking from under it and also eroding the metallic support that held Minerva's cauldron.
"What happened?"
"Riddle," whispered McGonagall and then turned around to look at the said boy. "You stupid bastard!" The Slytherin simply raised his head, looking confused.
"What is going on here?" Slughorn's voice echoed in the room and, soon, the Potion's Master was standing by their table. "Miss McGonagall!"
"He melted my cauldron!" screamed Minerva, pointing at Tom. "Everything was perfect and then he…!"
"How could I have melted your cauldron, Minerva, if your potion is doing the same thing with every metallic material on your table?" asked Riddle, looking oddly calm giving the situation. "You must have added something-"
"My potion was perfectly all right!"
"Minnie, calm down," whispered Potter, who had walked around the table and now had his hands on her shoulders, as if he was ready to hold her in case she decided to jump at the Slytherin.
"Mr. Riddle is right, Miss McGonagall," said Professor Slughorn and, with a wave of his wand, vanished the remnants of the potion.
While the teacher kept telling Minerva about what she had done wrong – apparently the girl had put a ingredient before the right time and that created a reaction capable of eroding metals -, Hermione looked around. Most students had already went back to their work, almost finishing their potions as the class was almost ending, but the Slytherins on the table next to theirs seemed to be entertained by the scolding Slughorn was giving to McGonagall for her lack of attention.
"I don't know how I put that Leech juice before the time," muttered Minerva by the end of the class. Charlus and Septimus were already gone and, form their table, only the two girls had stayed to listen to Slughorn talking about the properties of the Bezoar during the extra class. "I knew it had to be put in there only in the end… Maybe I need some sleep and not Riddle."
"Maybe," said Hermione as she finished packing her materials. "But don't worry, I bet Slughorn won't take too many points from Gryffindor… You're a great students, it's the first time you make a mistake this year."
"I hope you're right… Oh, no," McGonagall moaned as they stepped out of the classroom. Standing on the corridor, were Avery, Lestrange and two other boys Hermione didn't know, and all of them stopped talking and stared at the girls with mocking smiles on their face as soon as they caught sight of them.
"You see, Theodosius," said Atlas Avery while his smile grew wider and he looked back to one of the unknown boys, a rather short Slytherin with broad shoulders and long, dark hair tied in a tight braid. "That's why you should keep your eyes open to mixed wizards and witches. You're still on the sixth year, but once you start the seventh, you never know when someone can blow up a cauldron filled with dangerous potion next to you…"
"Oh, Avery, he doesn't need to worry," said Hermione, abruptly and not even noticing what she was doing. "Malfoy will not be on his class next year. He won't need to worry about exploding cauldrons."
"Believe me, Miss Elston: Abraxas' aptitude for magic is way higher than the likes of her." Atlas looked at Minerva with disgust and Hermione saw the girl balling her fists and clenching her jaw. "Mixed blood always results in failures."
"And you still-" The Gryffindor had to bite her own tongue in order to prevent herself from revealing something about Riddle's heritage to the other boy. "And you still get lower grades compared to people with mixed blood."
"Who's that?" the other unknown Slytherin asked.
"New girl from Gryffindor," whispered Lestrange.
"Come on, Minerva." Hermione grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her along the corridor, ignoring the whispers from the Slytherins. "They can talk nonsense about Half-Bloods and Muggleborns the day they beat you on a duel."
"Why did I agree to sit with you again?" asked Hermione as she lifted a squirming mouse by its tail right before waving her wand at it and making the animal disappear.
"Because you love me, Mademoiselle Elston."
The Gryffindor turned her head to look at the boy with whom she was sharing the table during that Transfiguration class. Abraxas Malfoy was holding a brown ferret between his hands and laughing as the animal tried to scratch his hands away. When Malfoy asked her to share a seat with him, the girl quickly looked around, searching for Minerva, but soon noticed the girl was not around. Without McGonagall, she had no one else to sit with and that was enough to make Abraxas drag her to sit with him.
"That's a nice one." She pointed her wand at the ferret's nose and it disappeared.
"It's prettier than a rat." He shrugged. "And it reminded me of Flamel… Only it was smaller and nicer."
"Flamel?"
"My Jarvey. You know, 'giant ferrets' or 'speaking ferrets'."
"You have a Jarvey?" she asked, arching an eyebrow. "What about elegant owls?"
"Oh, I do have an elegant owl too, Sisyphus, but I also have Flamel. I'm trying to train him so his vocabulary will be wider and nicer." He smiled and looked around, frowning.
"What's wrong?" Hermione stretched her neck to see what the other was looking at. She was not surprised to see that Malfoy was looking over to Riddle, who was sitting next to the calm-looking Walburga Black. The Black girl was waving her wand and creating a nightingale that flew around them while a small snake Tom had created watched it from its place wrapped around the boy's hand. "Oh, Riddle… He's in a bad mood today, isn't he?"
"Bad mood is a compliment to his mood today," whispered Abraxas.
"He should get some sleep."
"Nah. He just needs a laugh." The wizard shrugged. "All right, a bit of sleep is good, too, but a laugh is enough to keep him up until night."
"Oh?" The Gryffindor raised an eyebrow and smirked. "But it's easier to put him on the bed than to make him laugh."
"It may be difficult for common folk to make him laugh, ma chère." Malfoy winked at her and Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "But I'm a Malfoy, remember?"
"All right, then, show me the skills that comes with being a Malfoy," said Hermione, in a lower tone of voice as Dumbledore walked past their table in order to help Charlus with the owl he had created with magic. "Make Riddle laugh."
Abraxas' smile widened and he clicked his tongue before ripping a piece of his parchment, grabbing his quill and dipping its tip on the ink. The girl watched as he wrote something on the parchment and had to stifle a laugh when she managed to read his florid calligraphy.
"Where did you get this from?" She giggled, making Irina Akins turn around and stare at her for a few seconds, obviously not approving their noise.
"I've been reading Les Misérables," whispered Malfoy, folding the parchment and placing it on the palm of his hand before blowing it away. The piece of parchment flew away, as if its edges were little wings, and, soon, landed on the top of Riddle's table. The other Slytherin grabbed the paper before Walburga could see it and lowered his head as he unfolded and read it.
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she saw Tom's reaction. A second after he unfolded the note, Riddle's body trembled and he bit hard on his lower lip as if stopping himself from laughing. Walburga turned her head to look at him but he simply waved his hand, telling her it was nothing, that he was all right. The Slytherin girl didn't seem to believe him, but went back to her nightingale while he picked up his quill and scratched something on the parchment.
"That was a laugh," whispered Malfoy. "He would not laugh out loud in Dumbledore's class, but… Look! He's chuckling!" And, indeed, he was. Chuckling and extending his arm behind Walburga's back, opening his hand so the note flew away from it and landed on their table once again.
"I bet he's telling you to stop," said Hermione while the boy opened the parchment. "Let me see it."
Hermione gasped and, before she could restrain herself, laughed as Abraxas handed her the note.
"I'd climb you like a barricade.
- Enjolras
I'm pleasured to know.
- Javert"
"I told you I would make him laugh."
"He told you to shut up," said Hermione, waving the note. "He just used nicer words."
"And a dark sense of humour." Abraxas giggled.
"And a dark sense of humour."
When Hermione climbed up the stairs to the girl's dormitory in Gryffindor's Tower, she expected seeing an empty room or a room filled with its loud inhabitants. She was not really expecting, though, to find only one person in it. Especially a sad-looking Minerva McGonagall sitting on her bed and combing through her hair with her fingers.
"Hello, Minerva," said Hermione, giving a small smile to the girl. "What happened? You skipped Transfiguration…"
"I was not feeling like going." The witch shrugged.
Hermione frowned, approaching her and sitting on the other end of the bed. It was awfully weird to see McGonagall looking so blue.
"Is it because of what Avery said today?" she asked and Minerva seemed to swallow her own words. "Because you know very well you shouldn't feel bad for what those idiots say."
"I'm not feeling bad for what they said-"
"Of course not, your mood just dropped right after they said all those horrible things to you and it has nothing to do with them. I'm not stupid, Minerva, and I know how these things can hurt."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" she whined, hiding her face behind her hands. "I shouldn't feel bad because of that! They are just a bunch of stuck up pure-bloods throwing mean words all around… It's not the first time this happens, I'm used to it, really. Just a few days ago Avery started this same conversation, but I just ignored it. I don't know why I… argh! I can't believe I skipped Transfiguration because of such a stupid thing!"
"Can you perform the Avis spell?" asked Hermione as she stretched her arm to grab McGonagall's wand that was lying on the top of the bed, next to the other girl. "Do it."
"What? Why?"
"Come on, do it. Avis or Serpensortia, but I would rather have a few birds flying around than a snake here." She pulled a face. "Yes, Avis. Leave the vipers to the Slytherins."
Minerva took the wand from Hermione's hand and, shooting her a suspicious look, waved it while muttering the spell's formula. Soon, a little, yellow bird appeared out of thin air and started to fly around them, chirping before landing on the top of the sheets.
"Good. I bet you know the theory of the spell too," whispered Hermione, caressing the bird's little head with the tip of her finger. To her surprise, the animal didn't seem to be startled by it. "That was all we did there today, but with different animals. Malfoy created a ferret, it was pretty impressive."
"Malfoy?"
"You abandoned me there and I had to pair up with him," she said, letting an exaggerated hurt expression appear on her face.
"Oh, you poor thing!" Minerva laughed and patted the other on the shoulder. Her movement made the bird fly away from them, quickly reaching for the open window and flying outside. "I hope he didn't blow up his own ferret on your face, dear Hermione."
A/N: Just two things about this chapter: I really like it, it was the point of the fic where I wanted to get, and the thing about Les Mis... A little thing for Vika/Highonbooks. (: Thanks everyone who reviewed it and, as always, reviews are really welcome. (: