Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Sorry for the delay; hope you enjoy!
Pretending To Live
Chapter 21: Rumor
"...that's her, isn't it?"
"Yes. Did you hear about what happened on the night of...?"
"Mm-hm." One of the girls sitting in the desks behind me clicked their tongue sympathetically. "It's terrible, isn't it? I don't think I've ever seen something so embarrassing in my life..."
"You know all the girls were waiting up for her in our dormitory?" The second girl said. "But she didn't show up at all and turned up at a most obscene hour the next morning...we were most disappointed, let me tell you..."
"How dreadful! Where do you think she was?"
"Probably crying her eyes out, I expect," she said. "I can't even imagine; I had never been treated so rudely by a boy before..."
"It's rather unlike Tom Riddle, isn't it?" The girl's friend said. "He's always very polite to me, I've always thought he was really quite nice..."
"Well, Love Potions are bound to wear off eventually..."
"You don't really think she...?"
She made a hushing sound; her friend giggled and my quill snapped in my hand.
"Reparo," I hissed, jabbing my wand at it. I flexed my fingers, glanced over at Draco who had apparently heard nothing and crossed out the fifth spoiled sentence in my notes that we were supposed to be copying off the board.
"Just ignore them," Hermione muttered next to me. I didn't say anything but sighed when the Charms professor announced the end of class; I hastily scrawled in the last lines off the board and ran for the exit. Unfortunately I caught a good glimpse of the girl who had claimed to have been waiting in my dormitory and sadly, she did not look as ugly as I had imagined her to be when I was listening to her.
I ducked my head down as I passed several groups of black-clad students in the corridors; after a day like today, I quickly learned that if I ran for it, they were less likely to recognize me as "that odd exchange student that was stood up by the Slytherin prefect" and continue on with their own business. Otherwise...
Well, that was not the first conversation running along those lines that I had overheard this morning, shall we say.
You'd think they'd have better things to talk about after the holidays, I thought venomously as I passed a tad too slowly by a group and their conversation halted abruptly as they turned to gape at me.
Feeling thoroughly depressed, I wandered into the dungeons for Potions fifteen minutes early. It was empty- I had beat even Riddle in my arrival- and thankful for the brief break in whispers, I took up my seat at our twin desks and began to set up my cauldron.
"Oh-you're early, Miss de Lioncourt!" Professor Slughorn looked surprised as he entered in bright crimson robes.
I smiled weakly. "Did you have a nice holiday, sir?"
"Yes, it was very, very well- an old student of mine, Tilly Toke from Ilfracombe- you might have heard of her, she's very famous- invited me to spend the holiday with her family in Cannes..." He trailed off, a rather dreamy expression coming to his face, which then cleared abruptly as his pale round eyes rested on me. "But never mind that...how was your Christmas, Miss de Lioncourt?" He looked very serious.
"Good," I said uncertainly. "I spent it at the school, so..."
"Naturally, naturally," he said dismissively. "But I mean how was your Christmas?" His eyes widened slightly and I was spared giving a response by the sudden flow of students trickling into the room.
Immediately, I buried my face behind one of my textbooks as the noise swelled, pretending to busy myself with looking at the strengthening solution we were supposed to be brewing today. I flicked through the pages without seeing them as I waited for them to pass by my desk; I felt several stares burning into the side of my face and I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.
"It's upside down," Tom muttered as he took his seat next to me.
"Thanks," I said exasperatedly and set the book down. I dragged my hands down my face, rubbing my eyes wearily.
He tilted his head to one side. "Is it that bad?"
"Worse," I said glumly.
"You know better than to listen to them, Ariadne," he reprimanded me lightly. "You did expect this, after all..."
"It's...insulting," I said, unable to contain my outrage. "It's been a week already and the whole school's under the impressions that I'm a sort of- sort of-"
He waited patiently as I struggled to describe exactly what they thought I was. When I couldn't come up with anything suitable, he said lazily, "Shall I step in, then?"
"Tom, even prefects don't have the power to stop the rumor mill," I said. "Besides even they're talking about it..."
"That's not what I meant," he said quietly. When I only stared at him in confusion, he added, "Perhaps they would not think the same way about you if they thought I returned your affections?"
I raised my eyebrows. "And how do you plan on doing that?"
Riddle's mouth curved into something like a smile. "Oh. The usual way, I expect."
It took me a moment to understand what he was implying and my face became very hot. I licked my lips nervously and his eyes followed the movement.
"Tom," I rasped, "I-"
"HO HO HO!" boomed Slughorn somewhere above us and I made a convulsive movement, spilling half of our ingredients all over our table and my lap. I swore and Riddle sent everything back to its rightful place with a lazy twitch of his wand. I glanced in the Potions professor's direction; he wasn't as close to us as I thought; his laughter at something one of the other students had just told him had just reverberated against the dungeon walls in the wrong way. Looking around, I noticed that I wasn't the only one to have been startled; several people were staring at the ceiling with rather bemused expressions.
I flicked my eyes to Riddle; he seemed to be suppressing a smile. Suddenly irritated, I began to grind the moonstone we were using with the mortar and pestle with a vigour that was only slightly excessive.
"In any case," he said after a while, "you should be focusing on more important things, Ariadne, than mere gossip."
"Yeah, like what?" I said morosely.
He gripped my wrist, stopping me. "Like," he said quietly, "your corpus."
I tugged my arm away from him, rubbing the red mark that was forming there. "I feel fine," I said tightly.
"Really." He said, a bite of sarcasm in his voice. "After last night...?"
I didn't reply. When we had been working on my potion last night I had reacted poorly to one of our draughts and the Red Threads had made their appearance once more. Riddle had disappeared and I must have followed them in the deserted corridors of Hogwarts for at least half an hour before the Threads faded away into nothing, as they did. I had found myself wandering the dungeons and when I turned I saw Riddle, who had seemingly followed me during my dream-like state, had been watching me with an impassive expression. I hadn't known how to explain myself.
We continued brewing our potion in relative silence until finally I worked up the nerve to blurt out, "Do you believe in Fate?"
"That's a deep question," Riddle responded; he sounded amused.
"Don't laugh," I said seriously. "Do you?"
"I believe that my future is within my own hands, Ariadne," Tom said, "but I do not deny that there is always some form of outcome to all things."
"Outcome?"
He sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Give me your hands."
I did and he curled them into fists, placing them on the desk.
"Left or right?" He inquired politely.
"Left."
He opened my hand so that my empty palm was facing upwards. "Wrong."
"And if I had chose the other hand?" I challenged.
"But you didn't. Do you see what I mean? Your choice determines the eventual outcome. It's your decision that matters most in the end."
I frowned, hadn't Luna of all people once said something along those lines...?
"So nothing is predetermined?" I asked him.
"I believe so," he replied. "You don't agree?"
"Honestly? It doesn't feel like I've had a lot of choices, lately." I stared forlornly at our sluggishly bubbling cauldron.
"Then why did you bring up the subject?" He said.
"I heard a theory," I said, fidgeting under the table, "that Time and Fate were...intertwined."
"Daedalus," Tom said softly in recognition.
"So you know?" I wasn't that surprised.
"I've come across it," Riddle answered thoughtfully. "It's a strange theory. The idea that we all are robbed of our free will and follow both the Strands of Time and Threads of...Fate..." His face took on a shrewd expression as he looked at me. "That what you believe those threads were?"
"I never said that," I said uncomfortably.
"Ari," he said patiently, "it's called a theory for a reason. It has never been proven. And even if such a possibility existed that it were true," Riddle held up a finger as I opened my mouth to argue, "I highly doubt that we would be able to see the Strands and Threads that Daedalus spoke of."
"Then what's in my wand, Tom?" I said. "If Strands of Time don't exist?"
He hesitated and I barrelled on, "I don't know what I believe," I muttered, "but I don't think anything happens randomly. There's always a reason, always an explanation for why..." I trailed off. I looked down at my right hand, still closed into fist and I opened it.
"Nothing," Riddle murmured, but I shook my head and traced the two long white scars that cut across my fingers and palm.
He met my eyes. "You didn't choose that hand."
"Didn't I?" I murmured and the sound of Professor Slughorn's sonorous voice warning the class that we only had fifteen minutes broke into the tense atmosphere; I gave a slight start and began ladling our potion into the flask that had been given to us. Still, Riddle kept a thoughtful look even when the lesson ended.
"Hello, Tom," I heard familiar voice say suddenly and I dropped one of the large glass containers I was holding in my shock. I swore and attempted to scrub off the frogspawn off my skirt and jumper.
"Hello Miss Fawley," Tom said. "Your holidays have been well?"
"Oh yes," she said, nodding and I recognized her as the girl who had claimed to be from my dormitory from earlier—Nora Fawley. She was very pretty, with shoulder length blonde hair and eyes the color of bluebells. "Daddy brought us to France for the holidays, it was all very exciting. We met Bowman Wright, you've heard of him..."
"I have," Riddle replied and they made incomprehensible conversation about some famous something-or-other for several minutes. I continued cleaning up the frogspawn with my sodden rag, pretending not to listen and fighting my growing sense of irritation all the while.
Finally, the girl laughed and tossed her hair. "Well then, I suppose the real reason I'm here is to ask..." Her blue eyes widened with concern,"... how are you?"
"How am I?" Riddle repeated.
"I heard about what happened," she said, lowering her voice, "...it must have been a real shock, waking up from it."
"I'm sorry?"
I coughed, loud and hacking and their heads swiveled in my direction.
"Oh," Nora said looking surprised, as if she hadn't noticed me there before. At least she had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Sorry."
"Yeah well, we probably should get going," I said pointedly. "Time, time and all that."
"Yes, of course..." She tossed her hair once again and smiled at him as she left and I threw my frogspawn-soaked rag sourly into my bag.
"The rumor's been going around that I slipped you a Love Potion," I muttered.
"That's not what I've been hearing," Tom said with a smirk, "I heard that you were blackmailing me."
"Why don't you ask Miss Fawley then, I'm sure she'll be only too happy to divulge all the filthy details..." I scowled at him and followed the other students out of the dungeons, smelling strongly of swamp. "Look at me with my pretty golden hair and eyes the size of bloody dinner plates..." I muttered darkly to myself and tossed my hair for good measure. This did not end well; it whipped me full in the face and I ended up spitting out several strands bitterly.
"Scourgify," Tom said and the swampy odor lifted from my clothes. He sounded half exasperated, half smug. "Are you jealous, Ariadne?"
"Jealous?" I echoed scornfully. "Jealous? If I were jealous, all I'd have to do is make more Love Potion and you'll come running back right to me. You heard me right," I shouted at a group of Hufflepuff girls that had broke out into whispers as we passed them, "Page 468, Moste Potente Potions!"
"Jealous, HA!" I said as the girls scattered off in what looked suspiciously like the direction of the library.
"I'll see you in the Room," Tom said and there was a smirk playing around his mouth.
"Fine," I muttered, turning around.
"Oh and if it matters," he said carelessly and I looked back at him, "it's the wrong color."
"What is?"
He reached up and tugged at the end of my ponytail.
"Better," he muttered and with a slight smile walked away.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?" I yelled at another passing group. "IT REALLY WORKS!"
888
I shuffled and reshuffled the cards in my hands as I set up another game of solitaire for what felt like the tenth time that day. I was shut up in my dark corner of the Library again in the free period I had between now and my next class to avoid the usual crowds. It would have perhaps been wiser to spend the time making a start on the enormous pile of homework that we'd already been given but I did not want to make my self-imposed isolation any more miserable than it already was.
I rocked on the back legs of my chair, my hands behind my head as I abandoned my shuffling and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. Suddenly the sounds of violent swearing obliterated the Library's silence and startled, I let the front legs of my chair fell back on the floor with a bang. I hadn't realized that someone else was in this spot.
I got up and wandered over to the next aisle where a dark haired Slytherin boy was attempting to scrub off a large ink stain from his parchment.
"Alphard? Alphard Black?" I said in surprise.
He looked up and gave me a strained smile. "Ah, you remember. How are you, Ari?"
"Good," I replied. "Are you alright? I heard-"
"Oh that? Just a little mishap with the ink bottle, it's fine." He looked slightly harassed and I took the seat across from him. "I mean, I've only been working on this bloody essay for the past couple of hours or so, but no problem, really..."
"Here, give it." I stretched out a hand and he handed it over to me; I began siphoning off the ink with my wand, a useful spell that I had watched Hermione do before to Ron's homework once. "Better?"
"Thanks," Alphard said gratefully and he rubbed his eyes. "Sorry if I bothered you but this essay's been a right pain in the-"
He stopped himself and glanced at me with a guilty expression but I only laughed.
"D'you need any help?" I asked, smiling. I'd forgotten how much I would have liked Alphard if only I hadn't met him during the stressful period when my corpus had started to appear. "I can't say that I paid attention in all my classes, but..."
"Did you by any chance pay attention in Potions?" Alphard said gloomily. I cracked a wide grin.
"Definitely," I said and he seemed to look marginally more cheerful. An hour later, he was finishing his conclusion and I was building another house of cards on the desk.
"Done," Alphard said, throwing down his quill in disgust.
"Why d'you even have to do this?" I said, scanning his essay. "This isn't due for at least another week or so."
He grinned unapologetically. "My Head of House is making me get a head start on my work because I failed...well, not all, but a fair few of my classes last term. I've been shut up in this damn Library since I got back from the holidays."
I made a face. "Sorry."
Alphard rocked back in his chair, looking at me thoughtfully. "I suppose you're here to avoid the gossip mongers?"
"How'd you guess?" I said dryly.
He grinned again. "You didn't actually slip Riddle a Love Potion, did you?"
"I didn't-" I began hotly and he held up his hands.
"Don't be mad, I had to ask."
"Your argument in the fifth paragraph is weak," I said severely, handing him back his essay and he chuckled, rolling it up and stuffing it into his bag.
"You sound like him," he informed me and I scoffed.
"Well, maybe if you listened to him more then you wouldn't be in this mess," I said and but he only laughed.
"Come on, everyone knows sixth year's a joke," he said arrogantly. "Besides, I'm certain I don't need to know any of this nonsense about moonstone and bloodroot to get where I want..."
"And where is that?" I said, amused.
Alphard stopped rocking in his chair and leaned forward, his eyes glittering with real enthusiasm. "You," he said pointing at me, "are looking at the future Seeker of the Falmouth Falcons."
"Sorry?"
He actually looked offended and then horrified when he realized that I was being serious. "The Falmouth Falcons?" He repeated disbelievingly. "They're only the number one in their league, come on..."
"Right, right." I nodded.
"It's been a lifelong dream of mine," Alphard said looking slightly wistful, "I mean, I doubt dear old mummy would approve, but I'm personally hoping she'll cork it before the end of the year-it's alright," he said as I choked, "she's a right old hag, I doubt anyone would miss her..."
I hid a snort and sent the house of cards toppling down; I gathered them into my hand and shuffled them absentmindedly. A slight frown came to Alphard's face as he watched me.
"You're not a pureblood, are you?" He said abruptly and I looked up. "I thought perhaps 'de Lioncourt' was one of the older French families..."
"What gave me away?" I said evasively.
"I've never yet known a pureblood family that allowed their children to play with Muggle toys," Alphard snorted. "So you're either half-blood or Muggleborn."
"What does it matter?" I shrugged.
His eyes were shrewd. "Does Riddle know?"
"Riddle? He never asked."
A strange expression passed over his face and he looked disturbed. "You really didn't give him a Love Potion, then?"
"No," I said, my voice thick with exasperation. "What? What?" I repeated irritably as he gave me another strange look.
"He's never said it explicitly but those of us that know him are aware of his... dislike... towards Muggles. I guess if he hasn't asked, then he already knows..." He trailed off thoughtfully. "I suppose he likes you, then."
I flushed despite myself and he smirked. "It would certainly explain a lot about some of the things he asked me to do before..."
"Like what?" I said curiously.
He wagged a finger at me reprovingly. "I can't tell you that Ari, he'll kill me."
I chuckled morbidly and stood up. "See you around, Alphard."
That was the last time I could bring myself to do any sort of schoolwork; most of my time these days was spent staring at the windows and thinking wistfully of the Christmas holidays. It was no different to when I had been attending school back home; I simply did not adjust well to the start of term.
"Focus, Ari," Dumbledore said quietly as he passed by the long desk I shared with Hermione and Draco and I shook myself out of my stupor.
"Sorry, sir." I tried again at the armadillo I was somehow supposed to be turning into a kettle. I jabbed my wand at it and steam blew out of its snout and tail but nothing else happened. Its tiny yellow eyes blinked peevishly at me.
I sighed and put my wand down. I cradled my throbbing head in my hands and breathed deeply through my nose. As I closed my eyes, I realized that the whispers that had been going on since the start of the class could be heard more clearly. It didn't seem to be about me this time, for their voices sounded too solemn for it to be mere gossip.
"Did you hear about what happened yesterday...?"
"Yes, it's awful isn't it? Poor Bertram..."
"He helped me with my Charms homework, he was so clever..."
"I hear he's in St Mungo's now."
I glanced guiltily at Hermione, knowing that she wouldn't approve of my eavesdropping but saw to my surprise that she had been listening in too.
"I don't understand," I muttered. "What happened to Bertie?"
Her face became pinched with anxiety. "It was terrible, I was there. It was in the middle of class- we thought he was choking at first because his whole face was purple and it looked like he couldn't breathe- and then he just started screaming right there in the classroom like he was being tortured..." She shuddered. "He didn't stop until Professor Flitwick got two of the other students to take him to the Hospital Wing. If he's in St Mungo's now, then it must be serious."
"What was wrong with him?" I said curiously. "Was he hexed?"
"No one knows," she replied. "But he'd been acting very strangely that day- he wouldn't talk to anyone at all..."
Professor Dumbledore began to wander along our aisle at this point and hastily I turned my attention back to my armadillo which was still tetchily blowing out soft clouds of steam. I gave it a prod with my wand and its snout lengthened slightly to resemble a spout of a kettle. I almost felt pleased with myself, but Dumbledore apparently did not feel the same way.
"Yes," he said, wiping off the steam that had fogged up his glasses, "for homework: practise."
The clocktower chimed the hour and signalled the end of the lesson. Quickly I stood up, eager to barrage Hermione for more details once we left the classroom but those hopes were instantly dashed when Dumbledore called out, "Ari, may I see you for a moment?"
Surprised and slightly troubled by his request, I lingered back until the rest of the students had left the room and then I approached his desk at the front. "Sir?"
He smiled at my expression. "You needn't look so apprehensive, Ari. I only wanted to ask if your stay at Hogwarts has been well so far, seeing as you are relatively new to...er...things."
"It has its ups and downs," I said, grinning.
"Indeed, indeed," he chuckled. "You seem to have adjusted well enough, in any case."
Dumbledore had barely finished his sentence when the First Locket burned suddenly against my skin; my hand jumped towards it reflexively but I lowered it at the last moment. This did not go unnoticed and he surveyed me with penetrating blue eyes over his half moon glasses.
"Ari," he said quietly, "is there anything at all you wish to tell me?"
"No sir," I said quickly. He looked at me for a little while longer until he nodded and leaned back in his chair, wearily it seemed.
"Forgive me," he sighed. "It's been a rather tiring year. My holiday, I'm afraid, was not as relaxing as I'd hoped...and, with recent events..."
"Do you mean Bertie Caldwell, sir?" I said interestedly and then realizing that I had been slightly tactless I said hurriedly, "Sorry- I just thought..."
"You are quite right," he said heavily, "although perhaps now is not the time to speak of it. You have Herbology next, correct?"
I nodded and I thumbed the Locket absentmindedly through my blouse.
"It would not do to keep Professor Radvire waiting." He smiled at me and, understanding that I was being dismissed, I bid him goodbye and left the classroom.
After Herbology- which was sweaty, filthy work as always- I was sitting by the fountain that Draco was using to clean up, nursing a bite on my hand that I had sustained from the Venomous Tentacula (it was teething). As I held a cloth to the wound to staunch the bleeding, my thoughts returned to the Locket, which had been pushed thoroughly out of mind the minute the Tentacula had wrapped its thorny feelers around my neck.
I don't suppose it was normal for the Locket to burn like this? It was certainly always a few degrees hotter than my skin but never to the point of severe discomfort as it had been in the Transfiguration classroom.
I stole a surreptitious glance down my shirt. There was an angry red weal there, just a few inches south of the hollow where my collarbones met and where the Locket rested against my skin.
But then, I reasoned, this was not the first time this had happened. Some time the day before I had felt it too, so perhaps this was merely another strange quirk of the Locket of Ravenclaw...but then, I thought uneasily, wouldn't Riddle have warned me...?
"Do you know her?" Draco muttered to me out of the corner of his mouth and I glanced up. To my astonishment and dismay, a pretty girl with shiny blonde hair and ridiculously big blue eyes was approaching us- Nora Fawley.
"Yeah, I know her," I mumbled.
She stopped in front of me and I climbed to my feet warily.
"Hello," she said.
"Hey," I replied. And, because she did not say anything further, I ventured reluctantly, "How are you?"
"Good," Nora answered absently.
"Oh," I said, "that's...good."
Draco watched our stunted conversation in amazement and I fidgeted awkwardly as the seconds ticked past in an uncomfortable silence, which Nora did seem to notice.
"I just want to say that I am sorry," she said abruptly in a strangely toneless voice, "for spreading rumors about you."
"Oh," I said again, this time taken aback. "It's, erm, no problem. Thanks."
Nora stared vacantly into the air above my head before she gave a curt nod and wandered off while I watched, crestfallen.
"That," Draco said emphatically, "was probably the most awkward-"
But he did not finish his sentence for an ear-splitting scream sounded out in the courtyard, echoing against the stone walls.
"Nora? NORA, STOP!"
I looked up just in time to see the shimmer of some dazzling light above Fawley's head, catch the absent smile that she offered to her panicking friend.
And then she disappeared into a column of blue flame.
I yelled in shock and horror and we took off towards her, pushing past the screaming crowd.
"Aguamenti!" I shouted, pointing my wand at her and although a jet of water poured out of its tip, it seemed to have no effect on the vivid flames, the heat of which I could feel yards away and which singed the hair on my arms.
"It's cursed fire!" Her friend wailed and Nora's screams pierced through my eardrums as she flailed and thrashed on the floor. "Someone get help!"
"Here," a deep voice said from the crowd and a tremendous wave of fierce relief washed over me as I saw Professor Dumbledore emerge swiftly from the chaos, led by another Ravenclaw student. He walked straight into the blue flame with seemingly no concern for his own safety; my yell was drowned out by a sudden, freezing, whistling gale of wind and then Nora's terrible screams died down into piteous moans as the blue flames vanished. I watched ashen-faced as she gave several struggling breaths, her mouth foaming, until her eyes rolled back until I could only see their whites and her head hit the stone floor with a dull clunk.
I started forward. "Is she-"
"She is not dead," Dumbledore said quietly as he crouched down and passed a wand over her, "but her burns are severe and she needs medical attention."
It was true: the wavy blonde hair that I had once coveted were now nothing more than yellow tufts in heavily blistered, lobster red skin. Her whole face was swollen and shiny with burns and there was a pungent smell in the air like charred meat. I swallowed, feeling sick.
"I'll get Madame Laroche," I muttered and, casting one last glance at the pitiful figure on the ground, I manoeuvred my way through the murmuring crowd that was beginning to gather round and ran for the Hospital Wing.
888
The news that Nora Fawley had set herself on fire spread rapidly throughout the school over the next short hours. It travelled at breakneck pace- infinitely quicker than the news about Bertram Caldwell- to the point that at breakfast the next day, those who had not even been present at the time were recounting the scene with a sort of horrified relish to their peers.
"I feel ill," I mumbled, pushing my breakfast plate away from me. "Honestly, everyone else can remember it perfectly well without them lot shoving it into their minds..."
Draco did not reply; he looked slightly green as the whispering group down the table began to describe just exactly the shade of diseased scarlet her skin had turned.
I couldn't imagine what had possibly possessed Nora to harm herself in such a way, or at all. I did not know her, but I remembered the way she had spoken to Tom at the end of Potions...she had carried the confidence and charm of a girl groomed to expect the best, if slightly vain.
Chills crept up my spine as I thought of the sight of her ruined, burned face and scorched hair as I had last seen it and I pushed the thought away queasily.
I considered the possibility that she had been cursed, bewitched somehow. But who would do it? She was well liked by most people, I knew, notwithstanding myself, but I certainly did not have the skills nor the temperament to perform such Dark magic...
A thrill of foreboding ran over me. Troubled, I made some sort of excuse to Draco as I stood up and wandered out of the Hall, listening to snatches of whispers in the corridors. They were all about Nora- no attention was spared for me this time. I would have grinned but the muscles in my cheeks felt stiff; it was no laughing matter.
I found Riddle sitting halfway up the spiral staircase leading to the tower where I had Divination. A book was open in his lap and he was eating an apple. He looked up at the sound of my approaching footsteps and he closed the book.
"Hi," I said. "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," he replied, looking mildly surprised. He shifted over on his step and I sat beside him.
"Nice spot," I said.
"I do like my isolation, from time to time," he said dryly. I didn't say anything; I was too busy trying to think of a way to ask him what was on my mind without resorting to outright accusations.
Thankfully, he noticed my unease before I had the chance to say anything. "Is something bothering you?"
"Did you hear about what happened yesterday?" I said.
"Ah," he said, understanding, and his expression became grave. "I did. What happened to Miss Fawley was unfortunate."
I nodded mutely and watching me, he said softly, "There's something else."
"Did you do it?" I said quietly.
There was a silence. I expected him to be angry or even indignant, but when I stole a glance at his face, it was completely blank.
"Ariadne, I promise you, that was not my doing," he murmured and his voice was so transparently honest that I believed him. It occurred to me then that he had not even been present at the time as he would have had Prefect duties at around that same hour. I looked down, embarrassed but relieved, as if there had been a knot in my chest that had suddenly loosened.
"Sorry," I muttered. "I just..."
"You didn't know anyone else who could be capable of performing such a curse?" He said shrewdly and I shrugged.
"Something like that, yeah." I half smiled. "Sorry again."
He said nothing but merely offered me the unbitten side of his apple. I took it from him and bit into it. I was reminded of the old fairytale...but I pushed that quickly out of my mind.
"I would have thought that you'd have been pleased with this turn of events," Tom remarked lightly. When he caught my expression, he added, "You didn't like Miss Fawley, did you?"
"Not really," I said, staring at him, "but I'm not so cruel as to take delight in someone's misery."
The unfathomable expression returned and I sighed, taking another bite of his apple. A thought occurred to me, unbidden and I turned to him. "Hang on- you don't think what happened to Nora is related to what happened to Bertie Caldwell?"
Tom tilted his head to one side. "What makes you say that?"
"Isn't it strange that both of them were completely fine and then suddenly they just completely lose their heads?" I stared out the thin arched window set in the wall next to me.
"The timing was rather spectacular for it to be mere coincidence," Tom agreed.
"Coincidence..." I echoed.
He glanced down at me with an expression close to exasperation. "Still thinking about Fate, Ari?"
"Some things are inevitable, Tom," I murmured and he stiffened. I ignored him. "I just can't imagine, though, what would set them off like that, like that..."
"Perhaps they were driven mad," Tom said quietly and I looked up.
"What do you mean?"
"It's just a thought," he replied, "but you can hardly say that their actions were the epitome of sane."
I hid a shiver as I looked out the window again. Riddle's words lingered in my mind in the days that followed. He was right, of course- those hadn't been the actions of a sane person, I thought, as I remembered her madly rolling eyes. But I couldn't even begin to imagine then what had happened that had caused a perfectly normal, healthy girl to lose her grip on reality in the space of a few short days...
However as term progressed, these thoughts were pushed to the back owing to the increasingly large stacks of homework I was beginning to drown in. I was once again spending the free time I had between classes in the distant sections of the Library. I was paying for my earlier laxness in regards to my homework schedule- I had several things that were all very unpleasant due next week and so I was now frantically trying to do as much research for an essay I knew would take days to complete to make room for a chart I knew would take weeks.
"Complex Transfiguration..." I took the book off the shelf and flipped it open, struggling with its weight as I balanced it on my knee.
It had been a while since the incident with Nora and school gossip informed me that she was currently recovering in St Mungo's hospital alongside Bertram Caldwell who would not be coming back to Hogwarts for some time as he was being currently re-taught how to read and speak. Nora was faring much better than he was, although she would never be as pretty as before, owing to the cursed nature of the fire that she had used against herself. But she was expected to return back to school in a matter of weeks, which most students were grateful to hear.
Riddle and I were no longer a much abused subject of conversation (although we did crop up from time to time) and I was free again to wander the grounds as I pleased without the cacophony of murmurs and whispers that had been my constant companions for so long.
I ran my finger down the book's index, murmuring to myself, "Armadillos...cats...cats...bats...do cats eat bats?"
I continued to mutter as I rifled patiently through the thick, dusty volumes. It was only when I heard a resounding crash the next aisle over followed by a multitude of (very colorful) curses, that I stopped work and peeked my head around the bookshelves. What I saw delighted me.
"Alphard Black," I said, grinning, "we can't keep meeting like this."
The figure lying on the ground- he appeared to have lost his balance on the shelf-ladder he had been using- and surrounded by fallen books did not smile. He clambered to his feet with a wince, looking thoroughly bad tempered.
"Are you okay?" I asked him and he just lifted his shoulders sullenly. "You haven't forgotten to do another essay again, have you?"
"No," Alphard said, sounding strained.
"Damn, I could have used the help," I mused. When his face remained stony, I grew fractionally worried- he had always seemed very carefree and his sudden moodiness unnerved me because it was so out of character.
He began to gather the books at his feet and after a beat, I stooped down as well, pulling them into thick stacks on the Library table.
"So," I said, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, "how are the Falmouth Falcons going?"
He threw the bundle of books on the desk with an exclamation of deep distaste and turned to me suspiciously. "Why would you want to know about that?"
I waved a hand vaguely. "Cure my ignorance, I suppose."
"They're going fine," he said shortly. Then, seemingly unable to help himself, he added, "Won 270 to nil last match."
"Wow, really?"
I kept on asking questions about the match (it did sound interesting, the way he described it) and gradually his old enthusiasm returned and he seemed back to his normal self, if rather pale.
"Are you alright? You seem a bit peaky," I said after he had finished recounting how the Falcons Seeker had captured the Snitch from right under the other team's nose.
"I'm..." Alphard trailed off and he rubbed his eyes. "I just- I think I'm just tired. Late night meetings and all..."
"Meetings?" I said, my eyebrows shooting up into my hairline.
"What? Nothing," he said quickly but my mind was whirring- meetings? Meetings? Did that mean that the Knights of Walpurgis were still ongoing?
"When did you-" I had been about to push him further for details but the color had drained from his face and his eyes began to take on an odd, glassy look.
"I have such strange thoughts..." He whispered. I stared at him; there was something familiar about his expression...
"You're just tired," I said uneasily. "C'mon, let's go down to dinner...I always knew spending too much time in the Library was unhealthy..."
I convinced him to leave with me and we walked along the corridors towards the Great Hall. I babbled about unimportant topics as we did so, mainly to alleviate my own sudden tension and to distract Alphard from whatever thoughts were plaguing his mind. He seemed to come out of it and return to his joking self and my apprehension slowly faded as we drew nearer to the Hall. I was in the middle of telling a story about my last detention with my Herbology teacher when I noticed that he was no longer beside me. I whirled around and saw that he was standing beside one of the high, open archways, staring up at the sky.
"Alphard...?"
He didn't respond and a wave of trepidation rose over me. I stepped towards him cautiously.
"Are you alright?"
"I see it," he said suddenly.
"See what?"
"There!" He cried, pointing at the black sky. "There, can't you see it Ari?"
I moved beside him and peered upwards uncertainly. Apart from the stars, there was nothing that I could see. "What...?"
"The Snitch!" Alphard yelled and I stared at him. He looked extremely agitated and his face had turned a sickly pale. "It's right there! Right there!"
"There's...nothing there."
"What are you talking about? Look, just look-"
"Alphard." I gripped his shoulder tightly and he tore his eyes reluctantly away from the sky. "There is nothing there."
He cast another longing but vacant stare at the sky and I realized with dawning horror why his expression had seemed so familiar to me. It was the one I had seen on Nora Fawley's face just moments before she had cursed herself...
"C'mon," I said urgently, "you're not well, let's go see Madame Laroche..."
He only looked at me, his features suddenly eerily blank as if they had been wiped completely clean of emotion. He nodded and I suppressed my sigh of relief.
I turned around.
I didn't see him climb onto the ledge of the arched window. I didn't see him stretch a hand out in front of him, as if her were grasping for something just beyond his reach. I didn't see him—not fall—but step out into the air.
I only heard the whisper of wind, his scream and the crunch of bone against stone.
I turned around.
"Alphard!" I screamed. "Alphard!"
A/N: There's only 4-5 chapters of PTL left (including Epilogue)—we're really nearing the end now.
Thank you again for all the reviews, favourites and alerts—I never would have come this far without all of you guys. Hope you're all rocking the New Year!