Chapter 5: Twin Camouflage
His transparent fingers laid out before him, Harry was nothing but vapor. He was an unborn soul subsisting in a time long before its own. The ground he roamed ; it was familiar to him.
What was not, however, was that Myrtle breathed as she sobbed in the toilet stall nearby when he was the one bodiless and floating. The irony of it engulfed him and kept him all but preoccupied from the anxiousness that surged through his incorporeal existence. Lost in déjà vu, Harry swooped down to the narrow stall which was to be his and his companions' younger selves' containment decades later as they brew a Polyjuice which could nearly have them packing and out of Hogwarts.
The decibels of falling footsteps surpassed the frantic moaning of Myrtle from outside and Harry wheeled about instantly. He listened and listened and those feet paced past the bathroom door and their falls faded around the corner. Suspicion slathered his thoughts once more. Where was she, that Elizabeth ? Was she coming at all ? Maybe it was all a setup. Maybe she'd storm in any minute but she would be in the company of a younger Voldemort. But what could he do to him that would harm Harry's formless soul ? It just didn't make sense. None of it did, but he was still there ; acting upon the schemes of a plan which he didn't understand from someone - something - he didn't understand and in the promised company of a girl he couldn't trust.
He felt strangely human for something as weightless as air, as clear as water. His eyes couldn't waver away from his hands which he clenched and unclenched rapidly. Was this how it felt like to be a phantom, a ghost, he thought ? If so, what a pointless stigma was the one they stirred about them, for other than the numbness that was brought by the grace of having no body, being a spirit felt fairly human. The door bolted open and banged against the dark wall. In squeaky black boots, grey overalls, and a lolloping ponytail, came the one he awaited for - Elizabeth. Her grey round eyes were quick and restless as they gazed from one way to another but then they stopped once they'd fallen upon Harry. Her face was chalk white and boarded with a chilly fear that brushed Harry's senses once he gazed at her. Elizabeth gathered some composure and the blood rushed through her pale features. She nodded curtly at Harry and turned away towards Myrtle's stall. Knocking feverishly, Myrtle's sobbing hushed down.
"Who is it ?" The miserable voice rung familiarly in Harry's ears.
"Myrtle, Professor Haverson asked for you." Elizabeth told, her face rather close to the door of the stall. They heard sniffing and the fall of Myrtle's pudgy little legs to the floor. The lock clicked and out peered a pair of watery brown pupils that brilliantly reflected and blended Elizabeth's blank face in their dark hue. Elizabeth had to bend her neck to look at the nervous figure that was a few heads shorter than her.
Myrtle was looking up at her in a trembling spite. It was no news to Harry as to how Myrtle seemed to hold an inexplicable grudge towards everyone, but he entertained the doubt he felt about Elizabeth by picturing her as one cradle of the many for Myrtle's misery. "Yeah ?" She pepped out, her pale hand shaky as it partially covered her coffee-colored lips. "Like I told you," Elizabeth pronounced," the Head of your house wants you." Harry floated backwards into the shadows in attempt to stay clear from Myrtle as she blissfully left the bathroom. Intense suspicion flooded him like liquid does to glass once he was left alone with Elizabeth. "Harry ?" He heard her say. Her voice was not as firm as it was with Myrtle. It was low and something felt self-conscious about it. The sound of it pulled the strings of a memory Harry had of a muggle advertisement he had seen years back - or forward, in that case - on television.
Before Harry had been recognized a wizard, that was one of those godly moments on which his existence seemed to fly forgotten from the shallow minds of the Dursleys. He stood still like some lamp before the screen which flashed with ad campaigns of washing machines and food oil, afraid for his life of the wrath of Vernon, the nagging of Petunia, and the unorthodox mischief of the beefy Dudley. And there it came, an ad for a private school for girls. Its looming black-bricked layout could be mistaken for a wired prison state in which little girls were brainwashed into keeping their voices hushed, blushing, giggly heads down, and opinions restricted to cooking and household chores. Elizabeth's voice rang that bell and Harry couldn't help but to wonder at how Hogwarts must be like for a witch in those forties. He, himself was quick to wave such thoughts, for even though they corresponded with this era, Dumbeldore was a Professor, and he would never let such prejudice manifest while he was at it. "I'm here." He responded as he glided into the light of the early morning flooding the bathroom walls. Elizabeth would have looked somewhat pleasant if not for her high nerves. She trembled badly like she was sick with cold and her eyebrows were where they were to twitch. "Are you okay ?" He asked idly despite the fury that burned in him like wildfire. If she had only kept her nose where it belonged, he would've died and everything would be alright. But ,Harry, you would've saved him, too, if you were her, wouldn't you ? The thought fluted in from one ear and out the other, burning every one of Harry's nerves in its path. He hated how true that statement was, because a part of him, the part that had witnessed Sirius vanish into the veil, wasn't ready to waive his incriminations of her no matter how biased they truly were. He wasn't ready to let it slip away. "Are you to be a ghost ?" She mouthed with the dry slapping noise of her lips the only sound erupting from her mouth. "No," he replied somewhat breathlessly, too. It could've been the cold drift swaying about the restroom which caused such petrified exchange between the two, or it could've simply been the hanging thought of what they were soon to do that did. "I'm not supposed to have been born yet." Harry uttered anew and the darkly comical realization of how little sense that made materialized. However, Elizabeth apparently held no interest anymore. The flickering outrage that Harry felt roared back into its whole flames, unbidden. She interrupted his thoughts saying,"Would you tell me what is happening ?" Strangely enough, the mellifluousness of her voice seemed to kindle the flames deflagrating his insides, especially how Harry felt he knew she was very much aware of what was happening. How dare she sound to be so innocent ?
"I was going to ask you the same thing." A wonder, it was, how anyone could be so mad and yet sound so calm. It was a wonder how Harry managed to do that. For a moment they were wrapt in a stifling silence and Harry could hear the flow of his blood and the soft drumming of his heart along the timely ticking of water droplets from a nearby tab. "You need to know," Elizabeth gulped ,"You need to know that, Harry, I never meant to. What I mean to say -"
She didn't know what to say. Brooding over so much, Harry surprisingly didn't bother to hear her out but he let his gaze fixate upon her. What could she do to help him ? To help anyone ? As far as Harry was concerned, she seemed to already have enough on her plate with such high nerves and gracelessness, and with that in mind, an unbidden name surfaced into Harry's train of thought - Wormtail. Wormtail, also known as Peter Pettigrew. Of course, she was another Wormtail. Pitiful. "I am very sorry. I will do anything I possibly can." She seemed to want to reach for Harry's hand, caress it maybe in a gesture of comfort but thought better of it, and Harry felt grateful of being transparent, of no fixed shape for that matter. "So, I dreamt of him last night, you know." Elizabeth said out of the blue. "Who ? Voldemort ?" Harry asked, entirely intrigued. "Who ?" She looked confused as she stared at Harry for an explanation, but it was Harry who was somewhat confused now. At his time, the name Voldemort was a taboo, almost like a sin. He would blurt it out habitually only to watch the most reverend wizards - Albus Dumbledore excluded, of course , the lowliest of them, his compadres, his archenemies flinch like bugs caught in a widow's web at hearing the pronunciation, but she didn't. It made sense as she didn't know, but she was a witch and it was almost preposterous for a one of a Wizarding bloodline not to fear the name. "Tom Riddle," he said," That's what he will name himself - Voldemort ."
"Oh," Elizabeth uttered," Well, no, not him, Harry. I meant that man, in the locket Riddle took. He told me about you. All about you, but I still don't get it . I never do, actually." She paused, a strange amusement twinkling in her eyes as she kept them downcast. "He is a model student, you know !" This time she raised her head and unveiled a shocking grin. "Yes, I know." Harry fired back sharply. "No one would ever believe this. It is my word, a hobbit's, and you, a mere hallucination, certainly , against the Head Boy Tom Riddle's. Holy cow . Look at you ! Who knows, I must've gone mad !" The pitch of her voice was very high and panicky. "He is far from what he makes himself out to be," Harry reasoned. "It just won't end, will it ?" She repeated helplessly with her back turned to him. Harry had not the slightest idea what she meant, and yet, he responded,"It could." He turned to the sink which concealed the entrance to the chamber and glided closely to it. "We could do it now."
"Do you know how to unseal it ?" He heard her say over his back, to which he replied,"I had done it once." Once in the company of Ron and a nauseous sellout of a Professor, Lockhart. You did it with Lockhart ; you could do it with her...
Elizabeth's footsteps approached him, splashing across the puddle of leaked toilet water. Harry knelt before the sink and the carved serpent glinted in greeting. "How could you ?" She whispered to him, hands clasped upon her kneecaps as she bent over to him.
"Parseltongue," he said simply, glancing at her once.
The continual corridors and tricky staircases linking the Gryffindor tower to the Potions' dungeon were as much as tubes as anything that Saturday morning. They were tubes that ejected hefty torrents of chattering students to their classes, and caught in the midst of a clashing stream of her peers, was a trembling, befuddled Joelle.
That morning, she was a replica of her sister and she desperately held on to that persona, in look and sound. She had her hair curled to look like Elizabeth's locks, tied it in a messy bun that was her sister's signature, donned the very scarlet robes Elizabeth striped on occasionally, concealed her blue eyes that were in contrast to Elizabeth's grey ones under shadowy bangs, and she was then headed to Elizabeth's potion session.
A nightmare, that's what it was to her. She felt trapped in the pages of a horror novel that were bound to no happy endings. As she hastily trotted throughout the jammed hallways, jammed with what she held to be dysfunctional first years, Joelle felt the burning urge to rip herself free from those robes and mess those curls back to their saggy, straight nature. She felt her soul trapped in what was her sister's form, not her's, and that was the very thing which assured her that everything was going according to plan. Her feet sped along the stretching walls of the hallway and her arms crisscrossed upon the sack of leather-bound books she held close to her chest as her back bag slapped her hip with every trot.
She looked so effortlessly as disturbed as Elizabeth ever did simply reflecting upon in utter disfavor how her own sister - twin - had blackmailed her to do such thing. It did not initially get down to blackmail that night, but it seemed to had been the only path their conversation was taking. From what Joelle recalled, she was slumped in an armchair opposite the broad window, her head in a drunken daze from upholding the view of the brilliant shimmering night stars when the common-room had cleared, but then, she was joined by the devil in the body of her sister. The "devil" was hesitant in her demand of a chameleon to represent her throughout the sessions of the next day, but Joelle flatly declined, stressing that she was no "chameleon". The devil was far from pleased, and the argumentative talk lead to loud voices and the loud voices detonated into consecutive outbursts :
"Well, well, if you can't do me a favor, I may as well undo mine to you, and write to father all about Joseph Caldwell , ay ?"
"Oh, you wouldn't !"
"Oh, I most definitely would !"
But there's a note to take if anyone was ever to argue with Satan ; you just don't win, especially not when talk of your distant lover, a leaf of a family tree that is in a rivalry with yours, is involved. Never had Joelle felt so betrayed. Never had a dagger jabbed to her back ever felt so edgy. She asked her of her determination to absence herself the next day, if it was her anxiety again, to which she roughly responded ,"No." She asked what in the world had possessed her to do all that she was doing, to which she did not respond at all. A crispy breath escaped her once she was standing outside the dungeon of Potions, the bubbling of cauldrons on fire louder to her ears than the chatter of Elizabeth's classmates.
Knock ... knock...
"Come in," Joelle - no Elizabeth, Elizabeth, you are Elizabeth for today - heard and the door creaked opened as she pressed against its handle and walked in. This will not work. It just won't ! We should've used Polyjuice ! But it seemed that how she fretted about no Polyjuice brought her to a closer state of evident anxiety to that of Elizabeth's than any Polyjuice ever could. "Tardy again, Miss Emerson." She gulped an inaudible apology to a heavenly - to her - oblivious Slughorn and wheeled about, looking for a seat. Red bouncy locks of a doll, cherry beaming lips, and nickel-sized hazel peepers wrinkled up with euphoria as their owner, Marci Harlingen, waved cheerfully to Jo and beckoned for her to take a seat. "Hello, Lizzy," those singsong vocals triggered an immense feeling of disgust within Joelle, but hey, she is buying it. The whole lot of it. Better play along...
She managed to curl her lips into a crooked smile and nodded to her in acknowledgment. Bloody hell, I possibly couldn't. No, not the very people who desire a glass of Elizabeth's spilled blood. Joelle seemed to function mechanically, repetitively taking in her environment, and reacting robotically to the vibes and signals she could interpret. But unfortunately, she mistook the only possible setback that could foil the plan for a chance, and gladly maneuvered over to the empty seat right beside Tom Riddle. Unseated and setting her cauldron, little attention did he pay to her, as if she were a mere drift of gentle air that passed him by. Joelle groped the hems of her robes and lain them upon the stool before she sat above them, but when she did, she flinched to Tom inhaling rather richly and closely to her ear lop. Her heartbeats skipped and the blood ran cold. All that she could hear were the intensifying beats of her own heart and the rush of the blood it plumbed. Thump... Thump...
"Where is your sister ?" Thump... Thump... Thump...
"What ?"
Thump... Thump...
"Where is Elizabeth, Joelle ?"
THUMP... thump... THUMP
"I don't know what you're on about... Riddle."
"You say you don't know ? How very worrying, indeed. So, very worrying that it must get back to Professor Slughorn - Sir !"
THUMP... THUMP... THUMP... THUMP
Joelle shot her claw like a preying eagle toward Tom's rising hand and held it still. Sinking her nails into the flesh of his wrist, she mouthed aggressively," What in the devil are you trying to get at ?"
He leaned in, those soulless, dark pupils consuming her, and he hissed," Let go of my hand, now."
Joelle pulled her nails out to preview in some sense of pride the crimson marks of pinched blood she'd left upon his pale skin. "Where is she ?" He repeated, facing forward. "Why do you ask ? You fancy her ?" She muttered her response with her head turned away, gazing about the class lest anyone had caught wind of their little exchange, but luckily, the dungeon inundated in colorful swirling fumes that blinded the eyes and bubbling simmers that deafened ears. Not a soul could've seen or heard. Tom allowed himself a mirthless, low laugh and warned consecutively," You are in no position to try and throw me in circles. Say, I might get bored of this conversation any minute now and give you away." The gears of her brain turned restlessly as Joelle tried to cook-up a clever come-back to that. She felt truly at lost as if it were all to blow up in her face very soon. "And what good will that do you ?" She loosened her tongue at last. The repetitive thudding of Tom's blade against the wood of the table while he intently cleaved the tentacles of the widow caught Joelle's attention and had her realize in horror that she is yet to begin. "Nothing, really," he pursued," but it will cost you a great deal of trouble if you do not tell me."
"Elizabeth... Elizabeth is having a hard time dealing with her anxiety again," She lied unknowingly, sweat dripping down her front as she kept a steady gaze upon his cauldron, simmering hungrily with every ingredient repressed into its depths. "Her anxiety ? And her anxiety meant for you to fill in for her, literally ? Say, why couldn't she report back to the hospital wing and excuse herself instead ?" He chuckled and warned in disfavor," Don't lie to me."
"You've ask too much of me as it is," Joelle remarked in withdrawal. Praying he would shut up, Joelle leaned back and almost fell over, forgetting that it was a stool and not an armchair. She observed attentively the pacing, foggy figure of Professor Slughorn. "And you're yet to give me a valid answer." He finished.
Perhaps it was the calm of his voice as he held her by the edge of a blade to her throat, perhaps it was the density of the atmosphere that Joelle couldn't draw the shortest breath, perhaps, perhaps, but she'd finally snapped. Swinging an arm of her back bag over her shoulder, she skidded away from Riddle and dived through the fumes until she'd bumped into Slughorn's protruding bully. "What is the matter, Miss Emerson ?" She heard him ask in concern.
"You have to excuse me, Professor, but I am in no condition to carry on with today's session, sorry !" Awaiting no response, she aimed for the door and banged it open for her to flee.
The ticking of the arms of a hanging clock, that had planets at its circular edges for numerals, could be some mesmerizing motion if observed so intently... or impatiently. Joelle sat on a hard wooden chair, lips pursed, arms folded, one pale hand sticking out, rapidly twirling a thin wand, and menacingly glaring at the ticking clock on the wall. What are the chances she'd ran away, good-riddance ? Hadn't shown her damned face ever since last night. Good on her part, really. There's no way I wouldn't have scalped that thick head the moment I had seen her...
And the illicit thoughts continued to bounce about her head, only adding the fuel to her fiery rage. How she managed to survive the day, she didn't know, She couldn't tell, she didn't care. However, she did know she was up for the homicide - of her twin, more specifically. That might had been a wild exaggeration incited by an equally wild & ravenous anger. Joelle couldn't hurt a bug, slightly depending on what bug it was. All the same. What she really wanted to do was to caterwaul to her sister about just how much of an idiot she truly were and maybe slap her around a little. "God, I hate you," she sighed, the flickering and feint popping of flames at the fireplace overhead muting her.
With all of its velvet armchairs and their inviting cushions, its silk curtains adorning the long windows surveying the masterpiece of a clear sky, the Gryffindor common room resembled a pretty salon with all of its rackety inhabitants gone to serve as onlookers for the Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor match. Dear Lord, who the hell cares ?
She thought, and the thought was a vague translation to how the Gryffindor team denied her the position of a Beater, and her pestered by it, by the Gryffindor team, by Hogwarts, by the world. Creeeeaaakkk, SLAM ! Joelle turned her head, overseeing Dumbledore walk out of the door connecting the common room to his private slumber room, and he her, seated upon that eyesore of a chair - so closely to the hanging clock - between all the comfy sofas. "Good afternoon, Miss Emerson," he greeted her, shutting the door and locking it. "Good afternoon, Sir," she gulped. "Not up for the match, I suppose ?"
"No, not very much, Sir," she attempted at a curt smile. "Say, you haven't by any chance seen your sister today, have you ?" Her jaw drooped loosely and her eyes glanced at a corner as she groped for words," Uh-ah, oh, no, matter-faculty, Sir, I was just waiting for her. It's been quite a while."
"It has been quite a while, indeed," he replied firmly, hands cocooned behind his back. "Do tell her to meet me at any given opportunity next time you two shall encounter." He turned towards the exist, the hems of his dull ropes swishing after him. Not helping herself, Joelle sputtered after him while she kept a vacant stare at his back," What for though ?" Dumbeldore turned to survey her curiously over his shoulder. As if the realization of which to whom she were speaking hit her, Joelle took to backtracking her speech and repeated quite apologetically," I meant to say, Sir, as to why exactly do you wish to meet with her ?" He wholly turned about to face her then, keeping his fingers interlocked behind him and maintaining a vibe of respectable superiority and yet kindness, he responded solemnly," Miss Emerson, your sister ran off at potions and skipped my session. Such sluggish attitude is intolerable at Hogwarts."
"Oh," she ascertained," why, yes, of course, your concerns are well placed, Professor."
And with that, a flurry of swishing ropes and scratching of the frame of the portrait as it unsealed for Dumbeldore, and he was out of sight. The fire flickered overhead in a debilitated orange blaze. Its once stretched lightening had remarkably shrunk. Joelle was no longer kept by its warmth but had her drowsiness to keep her from pestering about the conquering cold, and she sunk into her dreams.
"For Heaven's sake, Joelle, wake up, up, now ! Up !" With a last violent shake of the shoulder, Joelle was hurled out wide-eyed from her sleep. The first image her vision fixated upon was of Elizabeth and it was not pleasant. Joelle, wrinkling her face with ugly lividity, swing at her and her fist collided with that dainty little nose. Hurled off the chair and fallen on her backside, Elizabeth lay clutching her nose and murmuring obscenities under her breath. "Is that all ? Have you had your vengeance yet, you silly little child ?" Elizabeth straightened up and confronted her sister with her usual trembling scold. Joelle was yet fuming, her pale hands curled into vibrating fists as she stood tall above her stricken twin. Only when Elizabeth began to collect herself off the carpet did she bristle," You're some lucky rat I hadn't caught you earlier this afternoon. I would've had your skinning made public." Scowling like an elder handling one hell of a feral child, Elizabeth rubbed her sore nose. She remarked," I'm sure you would've."
Joelle prowled away purposelessly towards the velvet blinds only to spin about again promptly. She set Elizabeth in one fiery glower and burst out," Where in the world were you ?" Elizabeth seemed indifferent to any question fired at her in such manner and she resumed messaging her nose. "Wouldn't you like to know ?" She sighed. Joelle, evidently teased by such vague response, went about pacing back and forth once more and fired away. "After covering up for you the way I did today, I suppose that I very much would like to know where you've been, yes !" Elizabeth glanced laggardly up at the clock, ticking its pointed arms away from a moon and Mars. And as if in natural accordance to the clock, the sun bowed its head closer to the horizon and its mighty lights gleaming through the windows, began to fade.
Elizabeth inhaled roughly and directed her gaze towards her sister, "I'd tell you if you could do me one more favor." Joelle intensified her glower and chortled darkly in response. Not even momentarily breaking the buzzing eye contact, Joelle breathed," Do you think I am some sort of a marionette you could sway with strings of blackmail whenever you please ?" Elizabeth rolled her eyes at such response. "Drop the drama and hear me out for once. It's almost evening time and as you know I'm due to an evening party down at Slughorn's shortly. I need you to come with me." As Elizabeth explained away, Joelle had her arms folded and her tight little lips cemented onto the shape of an "O", like she wished to speak but her wide eyes were far too taken by the scenery.
"And just why shall I do that ? For your courtesy of blackmailing me earlier the other day ?" She snapped, one eye throwing daggers towards Elizabeth and the nose held up high. Elizabeth sighed and consecutively gave up. "Oh, alright, alright then. So be it. I shall go by myself." And she trotted away and limped up the spiral steps about the girls' dormitory, her twin chasing shortly after her. Each one of the girls banged through the door sequentially, Joelle burst out as Elizabeth rushed to her side of the bed, " Let's not pretend that you could ever go by yourself anywhere." The tiles whined as the wooden lowermost of the luggage crate with its golden claws at each edge scraped against the floor. Throwing the lid upwards, Elizabeth sunk her head beneath its shadows, looking for a fitting dress or whatever formal cloth she could don for the evening. She whispered darkly," Isn't that what you think ?"
Straightening up, Elizabeth rushed off with a green clothing, which was blurred to her sister's prying eyes from the speed of her brisk pace, to the restroom, and typically at such times, Joelle tailed her. Joelle slinked through the door to slouch by Elizabeth as she surveyed her makeup-less physique. "I know how it will be," Joelle said," your nerves won't make it. You'll pass out before you walk through Slughorn's door." Elizabeth ears weren't up to her words, and she turned towards one of the stalls.
The lock clicked and Elizabeth said behind the door," You could go now."
"No, I couldn't. Not until you tell me where you'd gone all day." Perhaps from the effort of strapping on that dress, Elizabeth's voice was twice as muffled when she said, "I will tell you when I'm back. As for now, I can't spare the littlest time for you." Joelle never liked being shunned, not to mention being treated like a child. If anyone were to truly lose themselves to their nerves then, it were to be Joelle. "Who do you think you're kidding ? You're scared and you know you're scared." Elizabeth's cracky tone rose well into a shout, " Yes I'm scared but I must go !" The door of the toilet stall slammed and Joelle caught Elizabeth's reflection lam out in a flurry of sparkling green fabric that she wore for a dress. The cat hobbled after the mouse, and in seconds the both of Elizabeth and Joelle resided before the portrait of The Fat Lady.
Eyeing Elizabeth's form closely then, the dress was a fit, draped about her chest to her waist, its flowing skirt to her kneecaps. Her dressing style was nothing short of courtly, appealing, but if one was to acquaint to her facial expression, she looked like she was being dragged to her execution. That sweat dripping down her forehead - with not doubt it would contaminate the smell of fresh satin. She tried but only loosely to mask her anxiety and didn't seem to succeed. "You look a mess," Joelle remarked. They were face to face then and they'd never felt so young and scared. It was inexplicable, but they both shared the subconscious knowledge that something major had changed subtly and changed forever. They felt danger and angst like they were little girls breaking the rules and venturing deep into the dark woods. A beast was lurking about their path.
"Will you come with me ?" Elizabeth repeated herself. Joelle seemed to all but remember that she was after all incensed by Elizabeth's vile betrayal, but she could brush that off for the sake of a call. A call unbeknown in nature to her, but it was a call for adventure which aroused such anticipation in her. Joelle's mouth curled from an a imaginative shape of O to a sullen grimace, and she barked, poking Elizabeth hard about the collarbones, "Before anything , don't you ever, ever dare and blackmail me by Joseph's name. In fact, don't you ever, ever breathe the name "Caldwell" again."
"Ever," Elizabeth vowed subserviently. "And second, you must tell me all that you know. All about where you've been and what you're up to ! Oh, and no more sneaking around !" Elizabeth kept hushed. Her eyes were cemented upon Joelle's, quite galled. Joelle seemed to interpret her sister's eluding vibe, for she folded her arms in superiority and held her nose high. "That too or nothing at all." She snapped. Elizabeth sighed in defeat,"Fine, so be it. But you need to quit nagging, alright ?! That too or nothing at all." Joelle was furious at the turning of tables, but at that, she was quite disarmed and had to abide. "Stand still, there's no way I'd go the way I am now. I need to change robes." She proclaimed. Elizabeth seemed to had been steaming with anger," I don't have much time on my hands, can't you see ?!"
"We'll make time. Besides, you need me so bear with it." Joelle protested and rushed back up the spiral staircase to the dormitory. "It will only take a second," she called.
It took roughly ten minutes. Ten minutes of Elizabeth listening involuntarily to the nauseas ticking of the clock and her nerves pulsing with lividity at her temple. But with out batting an eye to the tardy one, there Elizabeth was, strolling the passageway leading directly to the dungeons alongside her. Joelle bedizened her bronze robes, that were an eyesore in their refulgence as much as their were an appeal, and her hair was an antique in a high bun and bouncy threads for bangs. Elizabeth abhorred her look more than her own. Such leisurely fashion was so much a boobytrap for all kinds of unbidden attention.
"Mother of God, say, was there no other robe for you to wear ?" Elizabeth said at last.
"What ? Don't you like it ?" Joelle frowned in displeasure and measured herself. "It's not a wedding we are going to, you know. Just a simple evening party." Elizabeth told. "And is that to be a compliment or an insult ?" Joelle barked. "Never mind."
Along the way they encountered parties of their peers in robes not of Hogwarts ; Slytherins to attend to Slughorn's arrangements as well gawked wholly at them and to which Elizabeth met with feigned indifference. At last, they stood before the entrance to which many others piled up along its curving walls. Elizabeth was subtly fitful and couldn't help clinging to the sleeve of her sister. Unfortunately to them, the Slytherin aristocrats were their opposites in position, and seeing from their unsavory smirks and chilling murmurs, they did not intend to lay back. Although in no way did they approach them , Lestrange had his back turned at the girls as he listened to what Malfoy, who with his cold eyes fixated upon the two of them, told him. "Well, when is he going to let us in ?" Joelle asked, craning her neck to survey the doors to Slughorn's office over the sea of combed heads. "I dunno," Elizabeth took to chewing her nails. She wondered how in world was she to survive the next few hours.
Joelle didn't have to think long. The throng her peers had formed was backing up, departing to make way for an expected pair. Elizabeth was jolted a few yards back at the sudden stir of the crowd and was parted from her sister. She was then mashed in between two other invitees, unable to move a muscle and inhaling the stale stench of satin robes. Her unveiled eyes swiveled to the left to recognize Slughorn's protruding belly jiggling closer, and then, the whole of him materialized in a jumpsuit and striding alongside him in handsome dark robes was Riddle. Elizabeth frowned distastefully at the sight of him and tried to squirm away when her lungs decided that what it really needed was pure oxygen instead of the perfume of sweat and garments. "Welcome, welcome, you're all a tad early but all the better ! Come on in, come on in !" The professor boomed.
Elizabeth managed to reach Joelle and hang onto her as the tide of their peers crashed forward, pouring through Slughorn's welcoming doors. They were all hurled into a handsome office, carpeted with fur, it's silk hangings at the sides of a window framing the divine full moon and its stars, and a cackling fire at the corner gave the atmosphere a warm last touch. "Wow, Slughorn did himself well, didn't he now ?" Joelle remarked, admiring the confinement of the room. "Hushhhhh, he could hear you, you know !" Elizabeth warned.
Slughorn was beckoning his students to join him at a round table by which he and Riddle were already seated. "Glad that all could make it this evening. Say, Vincent, m'boy, would you pass me the rice pudding ?" Joelle and Elizabeth pulled a pair of chairs and sat at the far corner. No sooner had Elizabeth looked up from her piece of pie, had she met Riddle's careful gaze. An assemblage of scenes that had been ponded and burned into her memory earlier that morning played themselves like a rolled film meanwhile she stared into his dark abysses of eyes.
How could you ? How could you ? They are your schoolmates, fellow witches and wizards. They eat at your side, sleep on beds at your side, attend to their studies alongside you, yet you bloodlessly spin your webs like some widow, scheming the doom of your peers, your equals. Could someone of your so-called brainpower fall to the propaganda of the aristocrats ? Had their pride contaminated you ? Then blinded you ? Had it crazed you ? You're no superior to anyone. You're the victim of your ego. Hateful contemplations deluged her whilst she kept a severe eye-contact with Tom. She could swear she'd glimpsed him scowl like crotchety dog and turn away.
Discourse played on ; Slughorn took to questioning specific attendants, and their responses were either met by gasps and looks that reeked of admiration or utter disinterest manifested into silence. At a certain point, the imaginary spinning bottle ceased to point out Elizabeth, and Slughorn fired away with questions. Since when had she been singing ? What were some of her favorite poems and anthems ? And would she sing to them ? Elizabeth, so typically, froze up. Some critics made themselves heard with comical snorts and delicate giggles. Joelle rushed to explain away, saying that Elizabeth had a sore throat. The Healer said she mustn't speak all evening, and Elizabeth played along clumsily, grinning apologetically and nodding.
Even the most embarrassing moments are but sixty seconds, and their moment had thankfully passed, and everyone seemed to lose interest in the unlikely twins. As dialogue washed over her ears, Elizabeth leaned in to her sisters, whispering that she'd leave momentarily for the restroom. Joelle nodded and continued to frown about talk of Malfoy's family's business affairs.
Slipping away from the table, Elizabeth sulked down the hallway, the chatter and clinking of china unwrapping from around her ears and fading into the distance. She arrived at the first bathroom she could see and stood before the sinks. Her hand reached for the beaded pocket, pulling out the rectangular locket necklace. The reflector within swirled with the usual colors and rejoined to form the face of the alien man. "Are you there ?" He asked. "I am standing at a bathroom not far away from the office. I excused myself in order to see you." Elizabeth explained. The man was looking stern, and he blinked in approval, saying," Good. Is Riddle there ?"
"Yes, of course." His expressions brightened with each response that appealed to his liking. It seemed that all was going according to plan, but Elizabeth was not satisfied. "But may I ask why Harry had to stay in the chamber ?"
All signs of happiness evanesced off his features, and he wore his grim mask once more. "That, Elizabeth, dear, concerns Harry alone," he responded with a wispy tone. "Aren't I-"
Knock ! Knock ! Elizabeth held her breathe. Knock ! Knock ! Glancing down at the locket , she saw the alien man frown at her in displeasure and dissolve into distorted colors once again without another word. Measured breaths were inhaled and exhaled, and Elizabeth felt ready to inch slowly towards the door. Before the outsider could rap on its front again, she turned the lock and swung the door opened. Fear fell upon her like a casing petrified her and left her speechless. Tom pushed her a number of steps back and walked in himself, locking the door behind him. Elizabeth was nothing short of hyperventilating. She wished to scream for help, but her lungs failed her. She schemed to charge at him while his back was turned, but her feet and guts both failed her.
"And we meet in yet another bathroom, Elizabeth," he sighed deliberately. "Who have you been talking to ?" Her bottom lip trembled. She stealthily reached for the pocket of her dress to unsheathe her wand. "Don't," Tom warned. "Let me go," Elizabeth breathed her wand shaking, her mind reciting incantations. All calmness that painted his dark eyes divine had faded, and they sparked with pure insanity then. "Not until we've had our talk," he said, withdrawing his hand from the door handle to his side. "There's nothing for us to talk about," she blurted.
"What do you know of the chamber, Elizabeth ? You've been there just this morning, haven't you ?" It was gradually becoming harder to cling onto her mask of indifference with fear deluging her like a tide. She feared for her life, for her sister, for Hogwarts, and for Harry. "I've no -"
"No idea what I'm saying ?" Tom cut her off mid-sentence. He marched towards her with his falling steps resonating off the tiles. Elizabeth brandished her wand daringly, sputtering," Don't, stay back !"
No incantation came to mind. She felt void, petrified, weak.
His hand was harsh upon her neck and he yanked the locket towards him, the chains pinching her skin raw. "No idea how you retrieved this, too, I presume ?" He questioned as he stared at her dead in the eyes. Words failed her and her knees felt wobbly. Tom pulled until the chains broke off her neck and he pocketed the locket. It glistened momentarily to Elizabeth's eye as if in a gesture of farewell. And she collapsed.
"Have you been naive enough to tell someone ?" Tom asked anew. Anxiety peeled off her and Elizabeth felt alive with hate. "Yes, I have, in fact. Dumbeldore and the Headmaster all know what you're up to. You did it to yourself." Tom threw his head back in mirthless laughter in response. Elizabeth's blood ran cold. He straightened up to say coldly ,"And to imagine them believing you."
He continued to mimic,"' Oh, Headmaster, it was Riddle who opened the Chamber !'" Hearing him laugh once more was a knife to the heart for Elizabeth. "You know, you're not much for lying, Emerson." He remarked. I'm sorry, Harry, Elizabeth thought apologetically as if he was there to hear. She turned to face upwards in surprise as Tom walked towards her again. She backed away as he knelt before her. His eyes were to hers. "What's in the locket, Elizabeth ?" She glowered at him. "Don't wish to tell, do you ?" He moved his hand to hold her chin up. He was silent for a moment but then murmured to her," You wouldn't really tell on me, would you ? After all, I am nothing but a victim of my ego, isn't it ?" Elizabeth pulled away roughly. Her angry grey eyes darted downwards to glare at the tiles.
" Of course you wouldn't. Imperio !" She heard him say before what she felt to had been an invisible hand strike the back of her head, leaving her to rattle with dizziness. His robes wiped away after him as Tom turned to leave wordlessly but then he stopped. "You did it to yourself," a whisper escaped him and he left.
Dying, Elizabeth was dying. She could hear the pounding of her heart at the core of her head, which she was supporting in agony with both hands. At last, the restroom door banged open and a pair of feet rushed in. Elizabeth was far too muddled to look up and see who it was, but she ascertained of the identity once the intruder spoke in her sister's voice," My God, Elizabeth, look what's become of you !" Joelle fretted and Elizabeth dropped her head to her lap. Joelle felt the heat of her forehead and said ," C'mon, let's take you to the hospital wing." Elizabeth wanted to scream about Riddle, about the chamber, about all that he was up to, but she couldn't. Her thoughts were her own, but her lips weren't. They wouldn't speak the words and Elizabeth was left without a voice.