Chapter Twenty-One: Pensive

Tom didn't want to go back to the dorm yet. His thoughts were a whirl of confusion as he tried to grasp what he'd just seen in Dumbledore's pensieve. He didn't know what to think. Sure, he'd created a horcrux when he'd killed his father a memory which even now enraged him. How dare that man suggest that he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, did not deserve to exist? But creating one horcrux did not make him a monster.

But then again, perhaps if he because as bad as Hermione's memories painted him, he might not deserve to. But that was rubbish he was here, he did exist, and so far the horcruxes Hermione and her friends had discussed predominantly did not. He could not imagine what sort of force could have exerted itself upon him that would make him become such a monster.

How could Hermione even look him in the eye? How could she bear to be near him at all, knowing what he would become? And yet she wished to preserve that future her past so that she could come here? Perhaps he wasn't the craziest of the two.

But he hadn't done those things, and if he could help it he would not do them. What did she think, that if he failed to do something as he'd done in her past that she would suddenly pop out of existence or something? That was ridiculous. She was here. She was real. And she belonged to him even more so because she'd come here of her own free will and given herself to him. He refused to believe in anything but that she would be his forever.

As he turned away from the lake he'd been circling, a sudden fear gripped his insides. He'd put the pensieve back with Hermione's memory still inside. There was no way he could possibly sneak into Dumbledore's rooms again the man had surely gone there by now. Panic gripped him. What if the old man noticed someone had been there? What if he found the memory and saw it for himself.

Dumbledore already had little trust in him. He was always watching him like a hawk, scrutinizing him with the determination of the hunter that had zeroed in on its prey. What would Albus Dumbledore do if he discovered the memory? Had anyone actually said his name? He racked his brain, trying to remember.

He fell to his knees beside an old tree and crushed his mouth with his fist, trying to keep from crying out in anguish. Only Voldemort. They'd only used that name, surely? So, if Dumbledore did not know who Voldemort was, then Tom had nothing to worry about.

Perhaps he would try to sneak in during dinner. Surely the man would not remain in his own rooms to dine? He would be too busy meddling in everyone's affairs for that. Always plotting and planning, that man was. But he must not be allowed to suck Tom into those plots of his. It was worth passing up on a good meal to prevent him.

Tom went quickly back to the school, and darted down the abandoned hall toward the older man's rooms. He hid in a nearby alcove to wait for Dumbledore to leave for dinner, but is seemed to be taking much longer than it should. He knew he could not remain here forever, Someone was bound to find him.

"Riddle? Are you looking for me, perhaps?" said a voice from behind him. Tom froze, and turned around to look at him.

"Yes, sir, I was," he answered in stilted tones. "It seems like an age since you and I have done anything together outside the classroom. We used to gaze into crystals now and again. I kind of miss it."

"Ah," he said with a sage nod. "There was, in fact, something I wished to discuss with you," he said as he put a hand on his shoulder and led him toward the door he'd been watching. "It seems that Mr. Malfoy saw you here a bit earlier, and I wanted to ask you why?"

"Oh," Tom said guiltily. "Just looking for you, as I said. But you weren't about then, so I thought I'd come to try again."

Tom sat down on the large sofa as Dumbledore headed into his bedroom and brought out a large crystal ball, grinning wryly as he set it before his pupil and took a seat at his side. "Was there anything in particular you hoped to scry, Tom?"

"Oh, not really," he hedged. "Just my future in general."

"You're trying to see if you and that Granger girl will end up together, no doubt," he said with a knowing chuckle. "An odd relationship, that one. When she first came here, she was quite certain you were a monster, yet you have quickly convinced her otherwise, haven't you?"

Tom smirked. "I think I might have done."

"Just be careful, Tom," he said with one brow raised in a subtle manner. "You don't want to set off the Head Girl curse yet again. You do know the contraception charm, I trust."

"Sir?" he gasped in surprise. "Who would have taught it to me?"

"Yes, I'd forgotten, you were orphaned far too soon to learn it from your parents, even if they'd both been magical. I shall give you a written instruction on the matter just in case."

"That might be useful, sir," said Tom, his face turning hot.

"I rather thought it might," he chuckled. "By the way, Tom, when you were here earlier, you left a memory in my pensieve. Would you care to tell me why you wanted to view it?"

"Did you view it, sir?" he asked softly.

"Indeed, yes," Dumbledore answered as he lightly fingered his beard. "Terrible thing, an evil wizard trying to take over the world. I don't suppose you have any idea who he is?"

"None, sir," said Tom smoothly. "I was hoping the crystal might help."

"No, Tom, this crystal cannot see quite so far into the future as all that," Dumbledore said. "Besides, you must know that the future is always in motion constantly changing. That is why, until recently at least, I had always thought it impossible to travel through time. But it seems that somehow our young Miss Granger found a way. You never did tell me precisely how you found her, did you, Tom?"

"I don't believe we've discussed the issue at all, sir," he answered, keeping his face impassive.

"All I know is what Dippet told me," he said. "That she came from a future time, and that she knew me there. I thought it a bad idea to question her about it but given the nature of this memory, perhaps it would not be such a bad idea."

"No, sir, please," Tom answered. "She doesn't know I saw it, and I'd rather keep it that way."

"Yes, Tom, perhaps that would be for that best," he agreed. "What do you say we forget all this for now, and go to the evening meal? Even the best of minds think better on a full stomach, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, and the pair of them left together.