Menteur: Chapter 11: Strange Encounters
(AN: Ok, so the things in 'these quotation marks' signify the words spoken between Tom and Hermione through this strange new magic bond- aka without speaking out laud, but more about it in the story. Have fun! )
October 8, 1943
Hasty steps echoed through one of the countless dungeon corridors, alerting the young witch to the approaching person just in time for her to slip behind a conveniently placed pillar without making any unnecessary noise. When the steps finally reached a near corner, she promptly casted some additional disillusionment charms to the load of those she used upon exiting Slughorn's classroom. One can never be too safe…
Soon enough a slim figure of a black haired boy, clad in a worn gray uniform and light black overcoat, rounded the said corner and proceeded in the direction of Hermione's hiding spot, but eventually came to a stop in front of a small wooden door leading to the spare storage room some teachers used to get rid of a useless junk without having to deal with Ministry's "proper disposal of magical items" guidelines and requirements. He knocked twice, once and then twice again, performing a well-memorized secret code. The door creaked and Hermione could barely stifle a gasp of surprise when the person behind them came into view. The pigtailed girl with a slightly puzzled expression bearing the colors of blue and bronze could be no other than Myrtle.
"Tom" she uttered a greeting of sorts and quickly stepped out into the empty corridor, pulling the door behind her shut, while Tom leaned leisurely on a wall.
"How are you, Myrtle?" he asked in his typical sugarcoated tone, which made the young Rawenclaw's cheek light with the color of ripe tomatoes.
"G-good" mumbled Myrtle, acting more like a love-sick puppy rather than a proud intelligent member of Rowena's house. "And you?"
Tom's flirtatious smile broadened "Better…now"
Smoothly, like a cat on a hunt, Tom pushed himself off of the wall and neared the anxious witch, who did her best to look anywhere else but him. Using only his index finger, he gently pushed her head up to face his in an affectionate gesture. Their eyes met and if Hermione didn't know any better, she would have thought that the evil brat actually cared for the naive Rawenclaw. Even though she was sure that his manipulative selfish nature practically prohibited any emotional attachment to anything outside of his own persona, certain thoughts of doubt kept nagging at the back of her mind. Maybe Myrtle WAS the friend Dippet mentioned, theorized Hermione, but immediately disregarded the idea as highly improbable and generally ill-composed because were it to be a Rawenclaw, who succeeded in gaining the popular Slytherin's friendship, surely Dippet would have at least acknowledged that, since he himself once was in the same house.
"About the favor…" the melodious voice started again, but Myrtle interrupted, her voice proud and stronger than a second ago: "Oh, I have it!" The girl reached into the pocket of her school skirt and pulled out a small shiny object, which Hermione immediately identified as a pendant of some sorts. It was plain golden octagon with large sapphire-tinted glass part in the middle attached to a simple chain of same material.
"London won't be happy when he finds it missing…" stated the Rawenclaw, but from her tone it sounded more like question. Hermione frowned. Did Myrtle steal it from London's collection of oddities? And more importantly, did she do it for Riddle? Voluntarily? It was hard to believe, but she-as a storage management prefect (well, it's like TA, but lesser…just bear with me, ok?)- was the only person with an access to professor's cabinets, outside of London himself and his T.A. And what exactly was so special about this jewelry that Tom was willing to involve somebody outside of his Knights?
Tom's attention finally left the necklace and focused back on Myrtle: "Oh, don't worry; he won't find out." He assured, quickly pocketing the tiny thing before turning back to the girl in front of him. Standing so close they bodies almost touched, he reached to caress her flushed cheek and whispered: "You did well"
Hermione's jaw dropped, when young Voldemort bent down brushed his lips against pigtailed teenager's. It was simple peck, nothing more, but it was bloody Voldemort himself giving it, which only reinforced Hermione's idea about the trinket's importance. But what was it? What did Riddle desire so much that he was willing to touch a muggle-born in such manner? The ex-Gryffindor was 100% sure she had never even read about that pendant, let alone seen one like this.
She was distracted from her musings, when Tom suddenly turned on his heels and started to walk away.
Hermione scowled, partially because now she had to follow Riddle for sure, and partially because- despite all her hard studies and research- she wasn't able to identify the pedant on sight. What was going on? Unfortunately, she didn't have much time to ponder about possible explanations for the strange exchange she just witnessed, because her obsidian-eyed pray was quickly disappearing out of her view, unknowingly kicking her inquisitive reflex to follow him. She gave the retreating love-sick Rawenclaw one more look before, without ever disenchanting any of the disillusionment charms, sneaking out of the hallway and after Riddle.
He didn't go far though, and Hermione was quite surprised when their steps let them straight into the lady's bathroom on the first floor, a.k.a. the secret entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. She would never expect young Voldemort to be so reckless to visit such place during the broad daylight, but soon realized that morning, in between recesses was just as convenient time as any other, if not more, since most of students didn't even venture into this part of the castle before high noon, oppose to evenings, where almost everybody, who went to Great Hall for dinner, was pretty much forced to pass the place.
Riddle moved stealthily around the confined space, searching for any undesired onlookers, while still-invisible Hermione settled in a small nook near stalls, where she knew to have best view of the snake-eyes faucet.
Tom glanced at his watch, before turning back towards the round sink structure. For a brief moment his pale fingers lingered on the small inconspicuous snake carving on one of the valves, then, with the same hand, he reached into his left pocket and pulled out the obscure pendant. The strange glow of its glass part dimly reflected on the silvery surface of the mirror nearby and Hermione finally got a good look at Riddle's face. It seemed almost surreal as the small rays of light danced across the ashen skin of his high cheekbones, illuminating the vast curiosity and thirst for knowledge hidden deep in the obsidian irises. For a brief moment he looked completely content like a child, who just got a long-desired toy and couldn't quite contain the pure glee and satisfaction, but the tranquility of the moment was gone as quickly as it came. His eyes went back to a mask of utter indifference Hermione was accustomed to, and slightly parted lips closed into a thin line. He fastened the golden necklace around his neck and resolutely clutched both of his hands on the edge of the sink. A couple unrecognizable chants escaped his lips, but nothing happened. His brows furrowed, he tried again, this time lauder so even Hermione could hear the words spoken.
"Alohomora"
So, Riddle doesn't know how to open the chamber yet, deduced Hermione from observing Voldemort's unsuccessful ongoing attempts to use various unlocking charms on the motionless sink. Small droplets of sweat slowly made their way down his temples and the knuckles of his clutched hands went white as his grip of the porcelain tank strengthened.
"Fuck!" he cursed through his teeth, abruptly stepped back, throwing his hands loosely above his head in a distressed manner and Hermione couldn't help but to think that this was the most emotion she ever saw him exhibit.
Breathing heavily, Tom made a couple of steps back and forward in front of the sink, regaining his composure. Then he leaned back into his original position facing the mirror. In its reflection Hermione saw his lips silently part and close as if he was trying to formulate the right spell, but no words came out. There was a short pause and he did it again. With her invisibility charm still on, Hermione took few tentative steps closer to hopefully hear what chant was Voldemort about to cast, but stopped dead in her tracks when a familiar hissing sound reached her ears.
Parseltongue! He's calling Basilisk! Screamed Hermione's mind.
As if Riddle could hear her thoughts, all of a sudden, he spun around to face her and Hermione's breath caught in her throat. His piercing black eyes were staring directly at her. But that's impossible, panicked Hermione, he can't see me! It was impossible for any wizard, no matter how powerful, to see through the invisibility charm unless the caster wished to be seen and Hermione definitely did not want that! She looked down at her hands and torso and it was, indeed, still invisible. She glanced back at Tom and he wasn't casting any counter-charm either. But the mysterious pedant was glowing stronger than ever.
'What is this?' Tom's voice rang clear in her ears, but his mouth never moved. It was as if she could read his thoughts …
So they stood there unmoving, until Riddle took one step forward towards Hermione. His brow furrowed in puzzlement. Slowly, as if he was afraid to do any sudden movements, he reached out with his left hand into an empty space between Hermione and himself, grasping a nonexistent object. Tips of his long pale fingers were mere centimeters from the witches face, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It was like invisible chains were holding her feet firmly in place; she couldn't break free.
'No! Don't come any closer!' yelled Hermione in her mind and suddenly all the air around them crackled with magic and small sparks of gold and silver filled the whole room. The magical flow swirled and they both could feel it.
Tom's eyes widened in shock, but despite the warning, his hand continued its trajectory and Hermione was forced to hold her breath, for were even the smallest gust of air to escaped her lips, Tom would surely feel it and her cover would be blown.
'Who are you?' demanded Riddle, but this time his tone was softer and held no particular emotion of anger or hate, just bewilderment and curiosity. He couldn't see the witch through her invisibility charm, but he could feel her presence and hear her voice.
Right before his hand was able to reach her, Hermione picked up the last of her free will and swiftly took a step back, breaking the strange magical bond between them. Tom's face fell at the sudden lack of the new sensation and his hand went back to hanging motionlessly alongside his body. All came back to focus and Hermione finally allowed herself to let out the breath she was holding. It was obvious now that Tom really did not see her, but it still confused her. How was he able to hear her? One thing was sure: it all started when he put on that cursed pedant.
TBC
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