Disclaimer:Nuh-uh.
A/N:Here we are! Enjoy this chapter and thank you for the reviews!
It's so weird, writing in first person again…I've been writing a lot of third, lately…
Pretending To Live
Chapter 11: Weary Body
"Good enough for me," I muttered, and, still clutching the crystal vial, I sprinted towards the Hogwarts castle.
My footfalls were uneven when they finally found purchase on marble instead of stone. I had to find the others—were they alright? Or had they ended up like that Hufflepuff boy?
I was attracting some attention from the other students with my dishevelled appearance; clearly, most were still unaware about the attack on Hogsmeade. Whispers echoed around the corridors as I ran past them.
Dumbledore...I need to find Dumbledore...
I spotted a familiar looking head of dark hair in the corridor ahead and elated, I called out to him.
"Harry—"
Then the boy with the dark hair turned around and I stopped dead in my tracks.
"We even look something alike..."
"Riddle?" I said incredulously.
Said person inclined his head stiffly, obviously not at all pleased to be singled out among his peers to answer to the perceived madwoman. "Miss de Lioncourt."
"What the—how did you..?" And then it clicked: the final piece of the puzzle fitting snugly into place to form a fully formed picture. Why Harry had felt Riddle's rage on the eve of Olive Hornby's death when Hermione had said he had looked 'smug'...why Riddle had been so adamant in knowing who I had seen outside the Great Hall...why there had been two, not one, Riddles on the Marauders' Map, the map that never lied...
He'd been using the First Locket to go back in time.
"Holy cow," I muttered horrified, moving backwards. But now Riddle had noticed something wrong and was slowly mirroring my steps, but in the opposite direction. The red was in his eyes again.
"Ari—!" I spun around and caught sight of the familiar thin face of Harry Potter; immediately I grabbed his sleeve and began to drag him away from the corridor.
When we were a quieter place, I told him what I had seen in the Forest, and the revelation of Riddle's use for the Locket. Harry's face became grave as he listened; he told me that Dumbledore himself had stopped Grindelwald in Hogsmeade in a show of magic that stunned all who watched it.
"Did he kill him?" I whispered and he shook his head.
"No, he Disapparated along with the rest of his men." Harry's mouth twisted in a frown. "Listen, Ari—about Riddle..."
"Which one?" I said.
His face was grim. "That's exactly it. You have to remember that both of them are evil, Ari. Whether they're from the past, present or future doesn't matter- you can't let your guard down around them."
We both were silent then, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally Harry spoke again.
"It's strange, though," he said slowly. "Lately, I've been getting the feeling that...they—the Present and Future Riddle—haven't been getting along."
"What makes you say that?"
"I finally figured out why Riddle was so mad at Avery," he said in an undertone. "He was supposed to watch the Chamber's entrance—though he didn't tell him why—but he fell asleep. Avery swears it wasn't his fault, that someone knocked him out but he couldn't remember his face. I think that it must have been someone he'd have known in order for them to get that close to him. And I know for sure that it wasn't Present Riddle who let out the Basilisk..."
I suddenly felt very cold. "You think that it was Future Riddle who opened it."
Harry nodded. "Exactly. But why he would do something so against his earlier goals...it's beyond me. It doesn't make sense. But one thing's for sure, Ari—it's not something good."
"Avada Kedavra!"
I stared up the man who had his wand pointed directly at my face and watched as his mouth shaped the words that would mean my death—
A burst of green light. And then all was red.
"Dammit, do you mind?" I pushed at the wall of yellow and black angrily and—
A burst of green light. And then all was red.
"Aria, get the door please, honey, mum's a bit busy—"
"Hello." I looked up at the man in the doorway. He was dressed oddly, especially for the warm season. "Who are you?"
A burst of green light. And then all was red.
I woke up in the dark, sweat streaming down the back of my neck. Rubbing my eyes, I sat up in bed. I glanced at my watch; it was very late. That had been my third attempt to fall asleep tonight. It seemed every time I closed my eyes that was all I saw: the same vivid flash of green, the bodies falling through the air. Olive Hornby, the Hufflepuff boy, the Grindelwald soldier. How many people had I seen die ever since I arrived here?
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose with a hand. Eyes snapping open, I left the bed and shoved my feet into my school shoes without undoing the laces. I stole a red velvet dressing gown that I'd always admired from the cabinet of one of my dorm-mates and put it on. I grabbed the Map on the way out of the room.
I needed to take a walk; a habit that I normally enforced when I was stressed, or couldn't think. It was dark outside, so I lingered near the stone pillars that allowed moonlight to shine through. I stopped for a moment to look outside, at the cold grey waters of the Hogwarts Lake and at the gamekeeper's cabin by the edge of the Forest.
Shivering at the sudden blast of icy wind, I turned away and began walking again, my footfalls making soft thuds on the stone floor. There wasn't really a specific destination in my head but somehow I found myself taking a path that was relatively rare to me: it led to the Hogwarts Library. I had never been fond of books.
As I continued along the corridor, I heard a noise; I had to strain my ears to catch it. It sounded like...
"...why, of course! I was quite the duellist in my day...never a single match lost! Well...er...except to old Bathilda the Manly, but no one really counts her..."
Temporarily immobilized with shock at the realization I wasn't alone, I scanned the corridor ahead for the source of the voice. It sounded...familiar...
"...as I recall, we've learned about you in a History of Magic..."
And the voice of the second speaker, I would recognize an inch away from death.
Riddle? Why is it always you I run into on my 'adventures'?
"...oh? Excellent, about my noble deeds and bearing I hope...?"
"Of course."
What was he doing? Clearly, kissing ass... but he never did so without a purpose, right? And why at this hour?
"Oh you flatter me, boy...by the way, did I ever tell you of my conquests of the French in 1481...?"
I was torn, between my infuriating curiosity and my immense desire to flee. Eventually, and like always, it was the most inconvenient vice that won out in the end.
As quietly as I could, I tiptoed to the double-door entrance of the Hogwarts Library, were a tiny sliver of yellow light bled into the grey of the stone floor. I crouched down by the wall near its entrance and listened.
Riddle was speaking. "…and I was wondering, perhaps…"
"Ah well, the Gaunt family line is extensive," Sir Constantine replied and I realized that Riddle had been questioning him about his family. Foreboding gripped me like a vice. "Direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin, all of us and very proud, yes, very proud..."
"Do you know anything of its descendants?"
"Oh, yes I have heard quite a bit about them—though mostly from other ghosts, as I have never met them myself," replied Sir Constantine amiably. " I never really cared to know of what became of our bloodline, especially after hearing the rumours..."
"Rumours?"
"Yes, the late Gaunts caused quite a scandal a few years back. Marvolo Gaunt, I believe his name was, and his son, Morfin, and daughter, Merope. The son was sent to Azkaban for attacking Muggles in the village where they lived." I heard the ghost sniff in disdain. "Personally, I've never cared for that myself. Muggles are a waste of time and energy."
Riddle said quietly, "And the daughter?"
"Ran off with some Muggle, or so I've heard." Another sniff. "A waste of good blood."
I could sense the suppressed excitement in Riddle's voice when he next spoke. "Do you know his name?"
"Boy, were you not listening to me?" The ghost sounded affronted. "Muggles—"
"Yes, of course, I do apologize," said Riddle quickly. He began to say something else but I had decided that I had heard enough, that I was lucky to even listen to all of that without being caught. Carefully, I stepped back, away from the library entrance.
Creak.
The weight of my foot drew from the floorboards a long, rusty groan. I froze midstep at the sound. In the Library, the voices fell silent.
"Ah, it must be the caretaker—an ill tempered young man if you ask me, I'd better—" said Sir Constantine.
"It's quite alright," I heard Riddle's voice say softly. "I'll take care of it. I should be heading to bed anyway."
Sir Constantine chuckled an appreciative reply and Riddle stepped out of the Library, closing the twin doors shut behind him. The beam of lanternlight vanished and the hallway became shrouded in darkness, countered only by the silvery glow of the full moon outside. He stood quite still then, his hands clasped behind his back as he pondered something while, feet away, I waited with bated breath.
I took one, cautious step backwards.
"Miss de Lioncourt." He didn't even turn to look at me.
"R-Riddle." I replied.
He tilted his head in my direction then. "I'm surprised you're still awake. It's very...dangerous to wander around the castle after hours. You could get hurt."
"I'm not going to hurt you."
Unbidden, the words from the Riddle I had met in the Hogsmeade Forest flashed through my head and a small, fearful chuckle left my lips. Irony was never my taste.
"What did you hear, Ariadne?" Riddle said softly and my breath stuttered in my chest, echoing in the sonorous stone hallway. The silence stretched on.
"What did you hear, Ariadne?" I jumped, swallowing thickly.
"You're the Heir of Slytherin." I whispered.
Riddle turned to look at me so quickly my eyes missed the movement; I blinked and his back was towards me once more.
"Are you surprised, Ariadne?" he said softly. "I thought I would be, at first. After all, my mother...she died, you see. Giving birth to me, or so they said. And my father, a Muggle. But now..."
He turned around then and I finally saw what lurked just behind his tranquil façade...something rough and crude, and bestial.
"I am Slytherin's Heir."
It was dark outside, so I lingered near the stone pillars that allowed moonlight to shine through. I stopped for a moment to look outside, at the cold grey waters of the Hogwarts Lake and at the gamekeeper's cabin by the edge of the Forest.
Shivering at the sudden blast of icy wind, I turned away and began walking again, my footfalls making soft thuds on the stone floor. There wasn't really a specific destination in my head but somehow I found myself taking a path that was relatively rare to me: it led to the Hogwarts Library. I had never been fond of books—
"Ariadne, it's very late."
My yell of surprise echoed around the deserted corridor and I quickly clapped my hands over my mouth, darting my eyes about the place. A few of the figures in the paintings adorning the walls stirred, but didn't wake.
"Riddle!" I half screamed, half whispered, my hand still covering my mouth. "What're you-!"
"I'm afraid I'll have to take points from Gryffindor for this," Riddle interjected smoothly, his dark eyes glinting. He looked very calm. "You should know better by now that wandering the corridors at this sort of hour is against the rules."
The reprimand caught me off guard. Though I had never been on the receiving end of his authority during my short time at Hogwarts, I had seen him use it on others and often wondered how they could feel so shame-faced for their actions, by his mere reproach. Now that I was the one being chastised I could understand that perfectly well. I felt like a child, being scolded for staying up past my bedtime.
"I...I needed to think," I said in a small voice.
Riddle stared at me for a moment, his head tilted slightly to one side. "I'll escort you to the Gryffindor Tower." Her turned around and began to walk away.
"H-Hey!" He turned back again, one eyebrow raised and I fought to stand my ground. "You know, I'm not the only one out past their bedtime. What are you doing?"
"What else but investigating the source of the clamour?" he said dryly, twirling his wand in one hand. "If you truly wish to wander about after hours, then perhaps—"
"You're lying." I said and my body felt cold. But my pocket...it was scorching. Burning. I slipped my hand inside and felt for the thrumming wood of my wand—
..."You could get hurt—"
...I finally saw what lurked just behind his tranquil façade...something rough and crude, and bestial—
..."I am Slytherin's Heir."
And the next thing I knew, I was screaming at him.
"What the hell are you playing at, Riddle?" I yelled furiously, brandishing my wand at my side. Several paintings snapped awake but I found that I didn't care anymore. "You can't just do that to people—" I stopped, panting. Realization flooded me. I'd told him that I knew about the Locket...And he was watching me again, with that dangerous scarlet gleam. "Ah damn it all—averte statura!"
Lightning fast, he had his own wand spinning in his hand, deflecting my jinx with a Shield Charm. My own spell glanced off it and zoomed towards me; I ducked, and it singed the hair on the top of my head. Eyes watering at the sudden stench of burning hair, I blinked and was suddenly met by a volley of purple lights headed my way.
Ha, bastard, Dumbledore already pulled this one on me! I hit the floor and rolled to the side; finding my feet I shot another curse at him which he blocked before the spell barely left my lips.
Striding forward with an unreadable expression Riddle waved his wand and then there was an explosion of smoke in front of me, surrounding me like a thick fog. I turned this way and that, but I couldn't see inches past my face.
And then, suddenly, striking out of the grey was the head of a great snake made out of smoke; it lunged at me and I yelled, throwing an arm over my face as I stumbled backwards. But the snake passed through me as harmlessly as—well, smoke. A jet of red light pierced the grey fog and hit me and I found I couldn't move, my limbs fixed in their positions like a statue.
I watched as Riddle calmly waved away the smoke and walked towards me. His grey eyes examined me like someone eyeing a piece of particularly incomprehensible work of art. "This is a strange dilemma we're in, Miss de Lioncourt," he said quietly. "You see, not many people are aware of the power of the locket of Ravenclaw—ah yes, so you do know. I can see it in your eyes. I thought perhaps you simply recognized the insignia on its cover, at first...no matter, no matter..."
He stood directly in front of me now, with only inches separating us. He had a thoughtful expression on his face, his head still tilted to one side. His eyes were bright red. "Perhaps then, you can tell me about the power of its twin? No?"
Riddle gave me an assessing look and flicked his wand; my knees buckled and I doubled over, coughing.
"The famed twin Lockets of the two greatest Hogwarts founders...legend says that both were destroyed by Godric Gryffindor himself. But you and I know the truth, isn't that so Ariadne?" Abruptly his voice moved from a silky murmur to an uncharacteristically sharp growl. "Get up."
But I continued to cough on the ground, unable to catch my breath. Air burst out of me in short, ragged gasps and yet it was like I wasn't doing anything at all—no oxygen reached my starved lungs.
"Get up, Ariadne."
My labored pants transformed into something else; something wet and viscous was slowly clawing its way up my throat. For a moment I tasted its bitter, acrid stench on my tongue and then it was out of me, splattering in great dollops on the floor. My watering eyes widened; it wasn't red, but black.
"What are you...?" Riddle said, bending down and I spat a large gob of tar-like substance into his face. He stumbled, something I had never seen him do before, and I used his distraction to snatch my wand where it lay on the floor and fire a Jelly Legs Jinx at him. I didn't look to see whether it hit him or not; I simply ran as fast as I could to the Gryffindor tower.
"What is it?"
I looked up from my plate. It was an early breakfast in the Great Hall; the post hadn't even arrived yet. "Sorry?"
Draco eyed me speculatively. "There is no food in your mouth. Honestly, I like you better this way...but I'd also like to know what caused this drastic change in character."
I toyed with the silver tines of the fork in my hand edgily. How could I explain that the mere sight of the cheery sunny side up eggs on my plate made my stomach turn and my skin break out into cold sweat? That I feared that if I did eat, it would only come back up in the same, tar-like substance as last night?
"Menstrual cramps."
Draco snorted into his goblet of pumpkin juice and emerged sopping wet and flushing a brilliant shade of pink. I stood up.
"Look, I'll meet you in class, alright?" I left him without waiting for a reply towards the greenhouses. On the way, a wave of nausea hit me; quickly, I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep anything from making a reappearance and hid behind a nearby stone pillar. With fumbling hands, I took Madame Laroche's tonic and held it to my lips. Seconds later, I stared at it in disbelief; I had finished it all. In a fit of anger, I threw it down on the ground where it smashed into tiny shards on impact.
"Bit of a temper you've got there, hm?"
I looked around and saw a boy dressed in the traditional green and silver of Slytherin House watching me. He looked rather familiar.
"Yeah," I muttered, pushing my way past him and broke into a run as I realized I was late for Herbology.
I was grateful Professor Radvire had decided to let us work in Greenhouse Seven for today's lesson; it was the one with the biggest windows, which he liked to open during class. The cold morning breeze felt good against the back of my neck as I worked with Draco on pruning our fanged geranium bush. Though normally I tried to make up for my inexperience with magic by doing most of the practical work that Draco wouldn't touch (mainly involving dragon dung) today I let him take over, unable to concentrate on the task at hand for more than a few minutes.
A cold knot of dread was forming in my chest, one that I knew had been present ever since that day at Gladrags, but that I chose to ignore.
What was happening to me?
Headaches, nausea. Vomiting black blood...what else? Loss of appetite. None of the symptoms I had matched up to any sort of disease I could think of...granted, those were few. And all Muggle, of course.
Class ended and silently I began to help Draco put away our herbology things, washed my hands and left. Draco caught up to me before I could get too far.
"What?" I snapped at him.
"What is wrong with you?" he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. I didn't meet his eyes, which were sparking with annoyance and irritation. "Who shoved their wand up your—"
"Piss off."
Draco took a deep breath, obviously trying to overcome his irritation. "Look, de Lioncourt, you're supposed to at least act somewhat civil to your own damn brother, for crying out—"
"Draco, I'm only asking for a few minutes alone. I'll see you around." I broke into a jog as I rounded a corner and then slammed open the door to one of the bathrooms. Almost tripping in my haste, I lunged for the edge of one of the sinks and began to heave violently into the basin.
When I was done, I shakily wiped my mouth and washed my hands. I watched the black tar swirl down into the drain and a fear of the magnitude I had never experienced before overcame me; my knees gave and hit the floor.
Oh God.
"My Lord."
Riddle looked up from his book to see Rookwood standing before him, his face flushed with excitement. The two boys were in the common room during one of the free periods before their next class He raised a brow coolly, eyeing him much in the way a snake would eye a cricket; with the mild disgust and condescension of an unworthy meal.. "Yes?"
Rookwood stepped closer, his face shining. "I just wondered...whether you found the ingredients I procured for you suitable, My Lord."
Riddle stared at him. "Ingredients...?"
The curly haired boy blinked, faltering slightly. "The... ingredients you asked me to get, My Lord. I have to admit, they were quite tricky to attain at first, especially when Mulciber-" he stopped and started again. "I did as you asked. Grindelwald's attack only made it easier to sneak it into the castle."
Riddle continued to watch him, as still as a marble statue. Rookwood's smile faded from his face and he grew uneasy as his leader remained silent. "M-My Lord?"
"These ingredients..." Riddle said slowly, his face expressionless, "...who did you give them to?"
Rookwood swallowed nervously. "I gave them...to you, My Lord," he said uncertainly. Was this a test?
"I see." Riddle stood up from his armchair and began walk in slow, deliberate steps around the other boy like a predator circling its prey. "Refresh my memory, Rookwood: what sort of ingredients did I ask you to procure?"
Rookwood licked his lips nervously. "Bulbadox juice...powdered aconite...Jerusalem berries—"
"Crucio."
As the boy began to shriek and flail on the Slytherin common room floor before him, the haze of red that had momentarily clouded Riddle's vision abated slightly. Still, he was none the less furious—it was him. His ridiculous döppelganger who insisted on contradicting and opposing him at every turn—which was absurd, because they were the same person, after all. Were they not supposed to aid each other instead of this ludicrousness?
Riddle grit his teeth and flicked his wand. Rookwood's screams grew louder and Riddle lazily muffled the common room entrance with another flick.
It was becoming frustrating. Initially, Riddle had been overjoyed when he had discovered the extent of the First Locket's powers...but this was an outcome he had not anticipated. And it was giving him a headache.
What did he even need these ingredients for? Riddle wondered furiously. He couldn't see any reason why he should want them in the near future. The potion was not familiar to him.
Riddle raised the intensity of the curse and Rookwood did a sort of flop on the floor. His scream had become soundless, his mouth stretched wide in a mute shriek.
Riddle attempted to calm himself by thinking of his horcruxes. It had taken him months of dedicated research, of persuading to find something even remotely related to the topic. Even longer still to find evidence of the ritual needed to complete it. At this rate, he would probably create his first horcrux by the end of next year. It was a very long time to wait, but it would be worth it.
He was the Heir of Slytherin, after all.
Riddle removed the curse with a twitch of his hand and Rookwood crumpled in on himself, sobbing on the floor.
"That was just a brief reminder, Rookwood," Riddle said coldly. "Do not underestimate Lord Voldemort's power."
"Symptoms of scrofungulus include green-violet swellings upon the skin...puffy protrusions above the eyes..."
I slammed the book shut and put my head in my hands. This was pointless. Nothing in these books contained anything, anything at all about spewing black blood, or anything else I was doing. Half of me hoped I wouldn't come across the information; there was still a chance it could be some sort of hideously advanced form of Wizarding food poisoning.
The librarian, a beady eyed woman with a thin mouth eyed me suspiciously as I slumped over the table, groaning into my hands. There had to be something, somewhere...
"Hello." I looked up to see the familiar-looking Slytherin boy standing in front of me. "It's you again."
"Yeah? Who are you?"
The boy blinked; his smirk fading before it returned, full force. "Ah, I'm offended...you don't remember me?"
I stared at him for a moment, considering. "You're the one who warned me in the alley. About the Grindelwald soldier."
The boy winked. "That's right. Excellent timing too, if I do say so myself."
"Huh." I couldn't think of what to say. "Well, thank you."
"It's always my pleasure to help a damsel in distress." He sat down across from me and I felt a stab of irritation. "I'm Alphard."
"Alphard?" I said, surprised. "Alphard Black?"
Alphard beamed. "So you've heard of me! Perhaps for my dashing looks and rapier wit, hm?"
"Er...sure." In truth, I had only recognized his name from Harry's recount of his first meeting with the Death Eaters. "I'm Ari."
An expression of surprised crossed his handsome face and I asked him what was wrong. He considered me for a moment. "You're very straightforward, aren't you?"
I frowned. "How so?"
"Well, most young women wouldn't ask a person they just met to call them by their first name, you see. Or, upon consideration...get into schoolyard brawls with fully grown men in dark alleys." He grinned at me.
I gave him a tight-lipped smile and looked back down at the numerous textbooks that lay in front of me. Alphard seemed friendly enough, and was probably one of the nicest people I'd met so far at Hogwarts but I didn't have time for this.
He followed the direction of my gaze and picked up the book closest to him, examining it with an expression of great interest. "'How to Know Whether You Have A Flesh Eating Disease and What To Do if You Have One'," he read out loud. "Interesting choice."
I snatched the book from him. "Listen, I'm grateful for your warning in the alley that day, but I'd really appreciate it if you'd leave me alone. Please."
Alphard's smile faded and then his gaze turned speculative. "Of course." He stood up and I breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be able to continue my depressing research in peace. "But you know...you've been researching diseases in the past century. If you want anything more recent, I think you'd do better in Section 117B, over there." He gave a polite nod. "Good day, Ari."
Startled, I watched him leave and felt like a complete jerk. It seemed I was just offending everyone today.
Shaking my head, I stood up and headed over to Section 117B of the library.
Alphard sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot rhythmically on the wall behind him as he waited for the class inside to finish. He scratched the back of his head lazily and fidgeted until he heard Professor Merrythought finally dismiss his students. Immediately, he took his foot off the wall and stood up straight, watching the flood of people move past him.
Riddle was among them. Alphard caught his eye and Riddle gave a curt nod in response, bending is head to utter a short apology to the girl at his arm with a charming smile. Alphard stirred uncomfortably. It had always unnerved him how Riddle could slip into different personas as easily as if it were his own skin, and charm everyone he met while doing it. It wasn't...normal.
Riddle approached him and he straightened up, keeping his face carefully neutral. "Riddle."
"Alphard," the other boy acknowledged gracefully and Alphard took a breath.
"So, I did what you asked me to do...I spoke to your, er friend. She was in the Library." He noted the darkening of Riddle's eyes at the mention of her and felt a momentary rush of sympathy for the poor girl.
"And what was she doing?" Riddle said quietly.
"Well, it looked like research, I suppose...she seemed a bit crotchety at me for interrupting her. I managed to take this—" he held up a book, "from the table without her noticing."
Riddle took the book from him and scanned its cover. A brow quirked upwards. "Ah...so she doesn't know..." he murmured to himself, leafing through its pages.
"Sorry?"
Riddle looked up. "What else, Alphard?"
"Well...she was angry about something earlier this morning, I suppose." Riddle was too, he recalled suddenly, remembering the thunderous expression on the Slytherin Prefect's face as he left his dormitory. "Riddle, what's so important about this girl? She's strange, I'll give you that, but she looks pretty harmless to me."
"Are you questioning me, Black?" Riddle said softly, his dark eyes glittering and Alphard looked down.
"No, Riddle," he said through gritted teeth. Riddle looked amused.
"Besides, she's no longer your concern," he continued boredly. "I'll deal with her myself, now. However...Evans and McDonald...they seem...how should I say it? Averse, to me somehow. They are rather disinclined to be in company, as I'm sure you've noticed."
Alphard nodded; the exchange students' abrupt and intense dislike for their leader of the Knights of Walpurgis was something that was well discussed among its members.
"And yet the boy, Evans, seems to trust you." Alphard jolted, he thought he knew where this was leading.
"You want me to report on them to you?" he asked Riddle dubiously. The other boy gave a thin smile in reply and shut the book in his hands.
"Very astute, Alphard," he said dryly. "But yes, that is what I am asking you to do."
"Right," Alphard said faintly. Riddle patted him condescendingly on the shoulder.
"You always were one of my most loyal, Black," he said with a smile and Alphard turned to watch helplessly as he swept past, school robes billowing out past him.
"Professor Slughorn still wishes to speak to you about your essay," Riddle called out without looking back and then he was lost in the sea of students.
Alphard watched his exit with the familiar mixture of awe, unease and envy.
It wasn't normal.
I gripped my lit wand carefully between my teeth and aimed its light at the pages of the open book in my lap. I scanned the first paragraph briefly and then snapped the book shut, carefully putting it on the pile to my right.
Next book...c'mon...
It was very late. I'd missed lunch, dinner and my last two classes to continue my research in the library—which, although speeded markedly by Alphard's helpful hint, was still going nowhere. I found descriptions of symptoms similar to what I was experiencing, but none of them really fit, really felt right.
Okay...next book...
My tired eyes were reading the same sentences over and over. My tired eyes were reading the same sentences over and over. My head drooped forward onto my chest...
I was in the Hogsmeade Forest again, sprawled out on the ground against a tree. I was still tired. How could I still be tired if I was dreaming?
I fought to keep my eyes open and straightened up, pushing myself upright. I lifted my head up and my eyes widened fractionally at the sight of a crooked, vaguely human-shaped shadow a distance away from me. It turned its featureless face in my direction.
"I know you," I said. "But I'll forget you when I wake up, won't I?"
The crone bared her teeth in a hideous imitation of a smile and nodded.
"Help me," I said. "I can't do this by myself."
The crone's smile only grew wider. "You never were."
Bang!
Stars burst in front of my eyes and I jolted awake at the blinding pain originating from the top of my head. Something heavy fell into my lap and, massaging the tender spot on my scalp, I picked it up.
It was a book. I glanced at its cover. Magical Maladies & Their Symptoms.
I opened it and began to flick absentmindedly through its contents, robotically turning page after page, scanning through the barely readable print. Nothing. There was nothing useful here.
I flipped through the pages faster until my fingers caught on some sort of sticky resin. Mildly revolted, I tried to get my finger unstuck, but the substance wouldn't budge, holding my hand fast to the page.
I sighed and looked down—and then stopped.
"—the individual experiences severe nausea and dizziness, often accompanied with bouts of cold sweats and visions of auras—"
Now fully awake, I adjusted my position against the bookcases, nose only inches away from the page of the book.
"—will also tend to expel black fluid from the mouth and nose. This disease is known asCorpus Defessum, literally, 'weary body' and its symptoms have been extensively documented through case studies—"
This was perfect! This was exactly it! I—
'...although to date no treatment has been discovered due to the limited number of sufferers. This inevitably leads to the patient's death.'
A/N: Has everyone seen the last HP movie? Man, I swear it's so sad that this great series had to end...when I was a kid, I always said my childhood would end when HP ended. But now, I don't think I'm quite ready to give it up yet...so now, I'll say it'll end when I finish this fanfiction. So, probably when I'm like, 50 or something. :P