Chapter 6:
The tour went on for the better part of an hour. Remus seemed quite enthusiastic about sharing his knowledge of the castle with me, almost as if he was still getting over the shock of being allowed to come to school given his condition. It was only after I had remembered that grave detail that I started to see the tiredness in his face, the beginnings of scars that would mar him forever. A twang of guilt beat through my heart as I followed him around the entrance hall, listening to him point out the Great Hall and the passageway to the dungeons.
He held the door open for me and led me into the Great Hall. If there was any moment that really convinced me of my guilty feelings, it was seeing his face light up at the cavernous room, with the four great tables lined side by side. Any normal (using the term as loosely as can be construed) person would have felt like they had their wildest wish granted – here I was holding a wand, sorted into Gryffindor, and standing in awe at the Great Hall. It should have felt like a dream. Instead…
I shouldn't be here. I thought to myself as I shadowed Remus towards what must have been the Gryffindor table. This isn't right. I know too much – too much for me to be safe talking to them. I didn't even know who "they" were. Among these tables could be a Prewett, a Bones, or an Abbott. I know so much about who they are… who they will be. It will come out sooner or later that I'll know their futures. What then?
There were several people sitting at the Gryffindor, some with books propped open and plates full of mid-morning snack, while others practiced wandwork with wild flourishes and quite a few soft curses. The few that were trying to study kept glancing angrily toward the end of the table, where a cloud of noise was arising.
"I told you she wouldn't be there!"
"Shut your trap, Pettigrew."
"But James!"
"I said-"
James quickly silenced himself as he noticed us approaching. His irritation at the mousy boy next to him quickly morphed into a manipulative smile most obviously directed toward Remus.
"Remus! Ole' buddy! Ole' pal!" He grinned, waving his hands furiously in a gesture welcoming us to the table. He forcibly shoved Peter aside to make room for Remus while simultaneously offering me a seat across from him next to Sirius, whom I had only just noticed. I took my seat and took a good look at him – the one I had so often read about.
It was odd the way his black hair fell in front of his face. I could see how someday that face would sparkle and be the prize of the female population of Hogwarts, but now it sullenly stared down at his apple, half eaten. He dropped it on his plate, leaned back, and crossed his arms, his eyes never shifting. My only greeting was a slight nod of the head in my general direction. It was then I realized that he had yet to speak to me. I had heard his voice only once – in the Headmaster's office. Even then his smile had been distracting – now that he was out in the open again he seemed simply distracted himself. Perhaps, however free he felt in private, in public he had yet to move past the fact that he was the black sheep of the family.
Sure enough, before I could stop myself I had sneaked a glance at the opposite side of the room and caught the wild eyes of a shockingly pretty black-haired woman glaring at me. Startled, she quickly diverted her eyes to the boy sitting next to her that was desperately trying to get her attention. I held my gaze until she looked back – the beautiful face suddenly contorted into a scowl and I realized who I was looking at.
"That's my cousin," a quiet voice spoke. I started slightly – I had been drowning out the conversation between James and Remus (it was less of a conversation and more of an argument over who would search the castle for the Fat Lady – Remus was winning), and hadn't expected Sirius to talk to me. "I wouldn't stare at her for too long. It's already bad enough that you're sitting with me."
I turned toward him, but his eyes were still locked on his food, even if they weren't seeing it. His eyes were hallow, missing something. They weren't the same eyes that had held mine so dramatically in the Headmaster's office, but a ghost, a shadow of them.
If there was one thing I would have expected sitting in the seat next to the infamous Sirius Black, it would have been a giddy, happy-go-lucky boy who seemed to have nothing to lose. I would have expected more joy and less… fear. Less loneliness. But sure enough, it was that loneliness that shadowed his face. If only I could tell him what his future holds,I thought. Perhaps then he would appreciate where he is now.
That's when it came to me. The thought I always held in the back of my mind as I had read the novels. What if…
What if Tom Riddle never existed? What if Lord Voldemort would never ruin the lives of these innocent people? It was a long shot, but I had ended up in this world, hadn't I? If that could happen then surely it was possible! I had to know, and I could only think of one way to find out.
"Remus?" I asked as sweetly as I could. Both him and James stopped mid-sentence to look at me questioningly. I felt my cheeks flushing slightly. "Do you think we could continue the tour? I don't think I've seen the trophy room yet." He cocked his head to the side.
"The trophy room? Uh… yeah, sure," he replied, moving to stand up. James reached for his shoulder and shoved him back down in the seat.
"Remus," he said, just barely on the side of rudely. "While you're at it…" Remus calmly removed James' hand from his shoulder.
"No," he said shortly as he stood up, motioning me to join him at the end of the table where we had entered the hall only moments before. I did so, sneaking a glance back both at Sirius and at the Slytherin beauty. Both were paying no attention to me, and I turned back to Remus.
He held the door open for me and I the last thing I heard before the door clicked behind us was James' insistent cries of irritation, directed at Peter once more.
The trophy room wasn't very well described in the books – I didn't really know what to expect. I suppose my expectations didn't really have any reason to be dashed. It was a trophy room after all. It smelled of old brass and dust, plenty of dust. I moved along the walls, scanning each shelf for the award that I knew should be there somewhere. My fingertips passed lightly over the glass panes of the award cases, picking up more grime as they went along. Apparently there aren't enough detentions to go around…yet. I was only semi-following the monologue that Remus was procuring for my supposed interest. He was going on about famous alumni of Hogwarts, and seemed pretty puffed up to be allowed among their ranks.
Suddenly a small twinge in my fingertips pulled my eyes from a small trophy ("Outstanding Prefect of the Decade, 1780s") to a larger, more ornate plaque hanging from the back of a case. I felt a twisting in my gut as I read the award. There it was.
Outstanding Services to the School
Awarded to
Tom M. Riddle
June, 1943
"Find something of interest?" Remus asked, approaching behind me from the side of the room that held all of the quiddich awards. I looked up at him to see him reading the plaque over my shoulder.
"Just this old plaque," I replied, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. It was hard lying about the wizard that would eventually take the lives of the people I was now going to school with. "Any idea what it's for?"
"Tom… Riddle…" Remus said slowly. He seemed to be trying to recall a memory. "Nope, I'm not familiar with him. Whatever he did it must have been pretty amazing to have gotten that award. I haven't seen any others like it."
"No, I don't suppose you would," I said aloud to myself. Remus' reflection in the glass looked at me quizzically, but he didn't reply so I escaped into my thoughts once more. This seemed to have sealed the fate of these people. This world was the same as it was in the books that I had poured over for the better part of my childhood.
Dumbledore must have some idea that I know more than just that I am in a different world. He must have realized that I know more about this one than I should. I sighed to myself and moved on, trying to keep from acting too strangely about that one award. No need to let them know more than they need to.
I had actually gone over this scenario in my head, as strange as it sounds. Would I tell them what they could do to save countless lives? Would I tell them that the wizard who seemed to excel at everything at school would soon end their own lives? I could never reason out one way or another whether I would tell them – on one hand it would most certainly save some lives, but on the other, who knows then, if all of the things I knew were never to occur, what the future would hold. If You-Know-Who found out about the future then –
"Ready to go?" Remus interrupted my thoughts. I spun around to face him and put on a second fake smile, which he returned in truth. "I have the feeling the Fat Lady has no longer abandoned her duties."
Sure enough, the Fat Lady had, irritated though she was, returned to her portrait and was admitting students to the common room. Remus and I were among the last stragglers to climb into the common room. That same instant, an older woman in emerald robes swooped down on us, parchment in hand.
"Professor!" Remus addressed her, surprised.
"That will do, mister Lupin," the woman replied. "I have some things to discuss with miss Douglass. And although I trust you have thoroughly practiced turning matches into needles, suffice to say I do not believe some of your acquaintances have even lifted their wands. Do let them know that if they fail again in tomorrow's class, they will not be enjoying free time for much longer."
"Of course, Professor," Remus said with a nod of his head. He gave me a quick smile and scurried off toward what must have been the boy's dormitories.
The woman watched him go and then turned back to face me. Putting one hand on my shoulder, she steered me off into a less-populated corner of the room and with a glance, encouraged the couple of students present to take their gobstones game elsewhere. Gesturing me into the newly abandoned armchair, she allowed me to sit and then handed me the piece of parchment.
"I am Professor McGonagall and will be teaching your transfiguration classes. This is your new schedule, miss Douglass," she said, absentmindedly brushing her hands over her robes. "All of your supplies have been purchased and are waiting in your room. You will be escorted to Hogsmeade this coming weekend to purchase anything else you feel you require. Any questions?"
I shook my head and glanced down at my schedule before rolling it up and stuffing it in a pocket.
"Very well then," she continued. "I will show you to your room."
Robes flurrying behind her, she turned around and was halfway across the room before I was out of my chair. Running to catch up, we ascended the staircase to the girl's dormitories. We stopped in front of a wooden door that read "First Year, I", and Professor McGonagall raised her hand and knocked, and then turned the handle and let herself in.
The room was empty, so McGonagall escorted me to the closest four-poster on the right. The trunk on the end of the bed was brand new with my last name printed in neat letters across the front. The other four beds looked slept in, and the individual corners lived in. My bed and dresser were pristine. I laid a hand on my bed and then turned and sat down on it, looking up at the professor.
"I guess this is it then…" I said, softly. It seemed so finalized, this entrance into Hogwarts. It was so official – and so depressing. Any hope of going home floated away with that breath.
A smile moved across the professor's face. "I hope you find it comfortable here, miss Douglass. It seems the Headmaster has taken a special interest in you, and as you are in my house, I must take the same interest. My office is on the first floor."
And with that, she turned and left, closing the door quietly behind her. Looking around the room, I finally flung myself back onto the pillows on my new bed. My head met the pillows with a light crunch. Crunch?
Sitting back up, I looked down at the pillows to find a slightly crushed envelope with my name in spidery letters written across the front.
Dumbledore.