The small wizarding village where Hepzibah Smith resided was almost completely obscured by darkness on this cold November evening. The sound of footsteps echoed against the small, humble houses, which were evenly spaced along the winding road where Harry and Tom walked. Their pace was even, yet conversation was absent. They held nothing in their hands besides their wands, as a precaution. Their trunks had been left at home, for they wouldn't be leaving the country just yet.
Hepzibah's home was prominent amongst all others for it's height and lavishness as Harry and Tom edged closer to it through the darkness. Only a few ignited torches and fires could be seen within it, on the ground floor of the four-storied building. This meant that Hepzibah hadn't gone to bed yet, despite it being close to midnight. Harry and Tom reached the gate at the front of Hepzibah's house, and stopped before it. Tom turned to face Harry, his face barely visible in this dim lighting. "Are you sure you want to join me in this?"
"Yes," Harry replied instantly, surveying Tom's shadowed face.
"You could wait here," Tom suggested, "I'd be done in less than–"
"I'm not waiting outside," Harry stated forcibly, turning away from Tom.
He stared ahead of them, into the tall windows of the house, which displayed a collection of valuable objects crammed beneath high ceilings. Harry wanted to add something else, but he couldn't think what. He wanted to remind Tom again that he was only doing this to make sure he, Tom, wasn't merciless with his murders, yet he knew Tom was already aware of this fact. He would be repeating himself, running in circles…
"It'll rise suspicion if I'm caught standing here alone," Harry said quietly, "and being there with you won't make me the murderer…"
Tom strode forwards after giving no reply to this, and Harry caught a glimpse of his face as he passed. He seemed to be smiling, which surprised Harry, but he couldn't be sure if he had actually seen this in the darkness. Tom raised his wand, and began performing counter-curses to the enchantments placed upon the tall gate in front of them, which kept Hepzibah's house safe from trespassers. It didn't seem very difficult for Tom to break in, as he mumbled long incantations that he knew by heart. Harry knew that Tom was remembering which spells they would have to put up again before they left, and concentrating on making as little noise as possible with each barrier that shattered.
Harry would have offered his help in the task of breaking in, but after only a minute of waiting, his guess that no help was needed was proven right. Tom lowered his wand, and muttered 'Avis', conjuring a flock of small, chirping birds. The birds began flying in every direction, many of them making it through and over the wrought iron gate. Tom took this as a sign that his work was done, and he tapped the lock upon the door, pushing the gateway open.
They walked across a long gravel path and towards the front door, making as little noise as they could manage. Tom took another minute to unlock the front door, and Harry waited a few steps behind him, withdrawing the invisibility cloak. When Tom was done, a soft click sounded, and they both stood for a moment, patiently making sure that no one within the house had heard this. Harry moved a little closer, ready to enter the house with Tom. His heart was beating quickly, but he knew nothing could go wrong tonight…
Tom turned to face Harry, one hand on the door, which now stood ajar. They gazed at each other, their faces easier to see from the light that poured from the window to their right, about five meters away. To Harry's surprise, Tom planted a kiss on his lips, lingering at the touch. Harry couldn't say that he was opposed to such a gesture, exactly, but he disliked how his heart now beat in elation instead of apprehension, doubtlessly as Tom's did. Harry looked at Tom once he pulled away, wondering why he had kissed him in the first place. Harry guessed from Tom's expression that this was just his way of saying that no matter what happened his love would remain. Harry had a feeling that this wasn't related to the question of what would happen if they got caught for the murder, however…
They turned to face the house gradually, their eyes travelling across the hallway as the door swung open. Tom walked in, closing the door behind them when Harry followed, pulling the invisibility cloak out of his pocket. He began draping the cloak around Tom and himself, and it just about covered them – better than Harry had with Ron and Hermione, anyway. Harry pushed memories of his old friends out of his mind as he and Tom crept along the entrance hall. The sound of music could be heard coming from a room to their left, and Harry's eyes scanned that side of the house as they passed a few rooms. Tom, however, led them to the right. In the distance, the sound of dishes clattering could be heard.
Hokey was working when Harry and Tom made it along the corridor, and into the kitchen. As dishes cleaned themselves in the sink, and Hokey busied herself with putting away all of the clean and dried ones, a kettle was boiling on the stove. Everything here almost seemed to be waiting for Tom to say the simple incantation that would cause Hokey to make one wrong move in preparing Hepzibah's tea… Harry and Tom were standing slightly past the doorway, and Hokey wouldn't have heard their footsteps even if Tom hadn't muffled them with magic.
Harry felt Tom stirring, and he watched Tom withdraw a small glass container, no bigger than a matchbox, full of white powder. This was the poison, of course. It appeared to be so easy for Tom to raise his wand, and whisper 'Imperio'. There was no flash of light; instead it merely appeared as though a current of air had somehow made its way into the kitchen. When the Imperius Curse hit Hokey, she remained where she was, putting away the last of the dishes, and holding a teacup and saucer in her hands. Her eyes became unfocused, and she stared into space, under Tom's complete control.
The kettle began to boil, and Hokey's attention was drawn to it, on Tom's command. With a levitating charm, Tom placed the poison on the counter top, ready for Hokey when she turned back, kettle in hand, to the teacup, sugar, milk, and tea, which rested on the table. Harry watched as she began to make the tea, putting all of the normal ingredients first. She seemed to do all of this rather slowly, yet Harry was sure this was due to her old age, rather than his own unease. Hokey took a teaspoon in her hand, and began adding sugar. She then opened the poison.
It seemed effortless, and almost elegant, as Hokey poured teaspoon after teaspoon of poison into her mistress's tea. Her eyes were staring in the general direction of the teacup dreamily, her mind empty and waiting to hear Tom's next command. She couldn't possibly know that this seemingly innocent act would render her homeless, and more alone than ever. Harry stared as she picked up the tea, one hand on the saucer, the other on the handle, all ready for her mistress.
Harry and Tom followed her out of the kitchen, and into the living room, where music was no longer playing. Hepzibah was sitting on a couch by the fire, staring into space idly. She smiled when she heard the house enter the room. It escaped her notice that the House-Elf's eyes were blank as she looked down at Hokey, and sat up a little straighter. "What took you so long?" Hepzibah demanded. "The record has been off for over a minute!"
Harry's eyes fell upon a gramophone that rested to Hepzibah's far left. The record upon it was still, but Harry knew it wouldn't take anything more than a simple spell and a flick of her wand for Hepzibah to change the record herself. He wondered if maybe she took pride in having her House-Elf do everything for her, for she even waited for Hokey to bring her the tea without her having to reach it in any slight way. She was the evident queen of her own home.
"Play another Warbeck, won't you Hokey?" Hepzibah asked.
Hokey followed her order, or perhaps Tom's, and headed for the gramophone. She was so small that Harry was unsure for a moment whether she could reach the record. Yet his attention was brought back to Hepzibah before he could see Hokey using magic to begin the music. Hepzibah held the teacup and saucer above her lap, and leaned in with the cup's delicate handle around her stubble little fingers.
The record began playing, and a deep male voice sang harmoniously. Hepzibah's lips pressed against the glass, and she drank. Harry and Tom stood, transfixed, as Hepzibah lowered her cup, taking in the warm tea. Hokey stood in the corner, facing her mistress beside the gramophone. Hepzibah raised her glass again, but blinked many times after taking another long sip. She appeared to know that something was off this time, and she frowned, looking at nothing while taking another, shorter, sip.
"Hokey," Hepzibah said, her voice only just audible over the music as she turned to face her elf, "take this away, it seems as though you –… as though…"
Her voice faltered, and Harry knew the poison was working. Her breath began to shorten, and her grip on the teacup loosened. The glass crashed to the floor, and spilt upon the carpet as she brought her hands to her face and neck, coughing and gasping for breath as though she thought this would rid the suffocating feeling. Harry stood in awe, watching her. She withered and tried to call out as she slid towards the edge of her seat. The sickening sight mesmerized Harry, before he felt Tom move besides him.
Tom got out from under the invisibility cloak, and walked across the room. Hepzibah appeared shocked and confused when she saw Tom, and she fell off of her seat. She was struggling and panicking as she lay on the floor, and Harry wondered whether Tom wanted to make sure she knew who the criminal was as he walked closer. It appeared as though Hepzibah wasn't too stupid, after all, to not realise that Tom had done this. Her glazed eyes were fixed upon him, and she stared in fear, trying to either plead for help or scream.
Harry took off the invisibility cloak, knowing it was no use now. Hepzibah was unable to make a sound beyond her choking. Harry looked up at Tom's face, standing besides him, above Hepzibah's fidgeting body. Tom appeared neither amused nor loathsome as he gazed down at Hepzibah, and Harry wasn't sure whether this was a good thing. Tom stared with only soft curiosity, as if he wondered what the afterlife would be like for Hepzibah. There was an inner hate that could be seen through his eyes, but Harry knew he didn't loath Hepzibah for what she had done, he merely loathed his own suffering…
Yet Tom certainly looked as though he felt this was the right punishment for Hepzibah as she struggled with death. She would be off to the one place that Tom believed he would never go, to the world of the dead. It was where Tom would send all of his enemies. Better than Nurmengard Prison for Grindelwald's foes, or a complete new section of the world for some people, death would supposedly never touch Tom. Harry knew Tom was convinced that he would be separated from all the people he hated forevermore.
Hepzibah made her last few movements when Harry pulled his gaze away from Tom, and he felt greatly repulsed. Her breath stopped completely, her noises ceased, and her flailing arms lost all of their energy. Her eyes remained open, like her mouth, as she lay on the floor. Harry wondered how long it was going to take before she was completely dead. A few seconds now? Or minutes? She appeared dead, her body an empty shell while Harry viewed her, but he couldn't be sure. It took everything within him to push out the thought, the lingering question wandering through his mind as he stared. Was that it?
The Warbeck record was still playing, but Harry didn't hear it for over a minute. Tom was the one who had brought his attention to it, for he turned, and lifted his eyes to the gramophone. He looked ready to throw a curse at it, to get rid of some of his building frustration, but he refrained from doing so. It would leave evidence, and Tom wouldn't risk being caught for this now. He perhaps did this for Harry, or else by knowing what a bother it would be breaking out of Azkaban… or perhaps he still had the idea of working at Hogwarts one day as one of his strongest aspirations.
Tom flicked his wand, and the music stopped. When the room was silent, Harry felt emotionless. They were done. Hepzibah was dead, and there was nothing else to it. As his eyes travelled from the body on the floor, to the possessed elf, and to the piles of motionless antiques upon tables and within cupboards, he felt as though everything was unreal, like props of a movie set, or the pieces of a dollhouse. Harry's eyes stayed on Tom most of all, for he was the only thing that was moving, and the only being in the room who was thinking properly.
Tom walked over to stand in front of Hokey. With the Imperius Curse still on her, he began performing magic to get rid of all the memories in her head relating to Harry and himself being here, and relating to the feeling of Tom's curses hitting and staying on her. She would only remember adding something in Hepzibah's tea, and watching her die after she put on the Warbeck record. It wouldn't matter if she couldn't quite explain how she had felt because the information had been wiped away from her mind.
Tom straightened up when he was done modifying the House Elf's mind, and told Hokey to stay in this room as his last command. He then turned to face Harry, speaking as he started walking towards the door. Harry followed him without really deciding to. "Slytherin's Locket and Hufflepuff's Cup are hidden behind a painting, upon the main stairwell…"
"How do you know?" Harry asked, as they walked down a hallway.
"The Elf's mind," Tom replied, opening a door towards the centre of the house. "It's protected by more magic than the house itself, yet I am sure it will be no problem to break into… Do you have the cloak?"
"Yes," Harry replied. He had placed it back in his pocket subconsciously. "Why?"
"The portraits will see us otherwise," Tom said.
Harry made no reply to this as they headed down a shorter hall, and saw the staircase, probably in the exact centre of the house. Tom stopped walking, and Harry took out the cloak, throwing it over himself and Tom. They began walking quietly towards the portraits that lined the walls of the staircase, the occupants of each painting sleeping, or pretending to sleep.
Harry felt as though this was all a vivid dream as they climbed stairs. Hepzibah was dead, but there was no gore, or even a sense of alarm about the whole situation. Perhaps Harry felt no pain from the crime because he was with Tom, or because he himself hadn't killed her… Tom was analyzing every painting they passed. The only thing that concerned Harry was that he felt unfazed about the murder. He hadn't expected to feel nothing…
Tom found the safe on the third landing, and began cracking it upon beside Harry. He knew all of the magic needed from Hokey's mind, as well as his own, and Harry didn't have to help in any way. A tall portrait of an elderly Wizard holding a curious instrument guarded the safe. The wizard was dozing off to sleep as Tom used nonverbal magic, or else only whispered the counter-curses and incantations. The Wizard in the portrait awoke when his painting swung forwards, but he was the only person in Harry and Tom's sight who noticed this.
A tiny room was hidden behind the painting, and Harry and Tom entered it together. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with as many objects as ever for Hepzibah's house, but in way back of the room there was a low-set table that held only two items – the leather boxes containing the locket and the cup. They edged towards this, Tom not noticing how Harry knew exactly what these objects were. After a minute of more counter-curses, the two leather boxes were in Tom's hands.
Tom gave Harry the bigger box of the two to hold, which contained the Hufflepuff Cup, as he took the locket for himself. They remained under the invisibility cloak as Tom opened the case, gazing down at Slytherin's heirloom. Harry personally didn't want to look at either the cup or the locket. They were neither fascinating nor awe-inspiring to him. He merely wanted to leave now, while Tom stared down at the locket, a strange scarlet gleam in his eyes. He closed the locket's case, and took the cup from Harry's hands.
"It will be months before her family realises these are gone," Tom hisses, using Parseltongue so no portrait would hear them. "There are too many items in this house… too many hiding places…"
He seemed content with this idea, while Harry was unresponsive. "We should get out of here," Harry commented.
"We need not go even with an hour," Tom replied. He examined the cup for a moment, taking in as much as it as he could, without picking it up. Harry could tell he was satisfied that these items were in his possession. It took a moment of thought for Tom to do anything but bask in the glory of this accomplishment.
"You can swoon over the locket and cup when we're in Albania," Harry said, wanting to leave. "Borgin and Burke won't both be easy to curse forever."
"Burke will be plenty easy to curse soon," Tom responded, smiling humourlessly as he examined the cup. Thought of revenge seemed to prompt Tom into closing the leather box carefully, and placing the cup in the pocket of his robes alongside the locket. "Yet we should indeed leave…"
They headed out of the tiny room, and Tom threw a Memory Charm at the sleeping wizard in the portrait as the door swung closed. They didn't speak as they ascended the stairs, exited the house, and walked towards the gate. Tom replaced all the magic that guarded the house, and Harry helped this time, wanting to get away from here as soon as possible.
When they Apparated to Borgin and Burke's shop, all of Knockturn Alley was quiet. A few witches and wizards lurked in the dark shadows of the street, but Harry and Tom were invisible under the cloak. Borgin and Burke both lived in their shop, Borgin above it and Burke below it. It would be more than simple for Harry and Tom to get to either of them, for they were sure that their shop was perfectly safe from the thieves and crooks of Knockturn Alley itself.
The shop had only a little more protection than Hepzibah's house. It was very dark, and almost the same as Harry had remembered it from the nineties, with different items around in the same places. Harry and Tom passed many shelves full of strange items, past the fireplace that Harry remembered entering the shop in for the first time, past the counter where Borgin and Burke dwelt in the day, and towards a door that led to the back of the shop.
Once there, Harry and Tom met two wooden staircases, one leading up, and the other down. They headed up the stairs quietly, Tom casting a spell upon their feet for silence. Harry's heart wasn't beating particularly quickly. The worst part of the night was over, and this was just easy revenge for Tom. It wasn't necessary for them to make Borgin kill Burke, so even if they were caught for it there would be no problem. Both Harry and Tom on their own could fight their way out of this, if something went wrong, but it wasn't as though either of the shopkeepers were keen upon getting the Ministry involved on any level.
Harry and Tom met a door at the top of the staircase, and one simple spell unlocked it. Tom pushed the door wide with magic very quietly, and he and Harry peered inside the room. Borgin was sitting with his back the door, writing by candlelight. They walked into the room silently, their breath the only noise as they stood behind Borgin. The shop owner looked as though he had heard something, for he straightened up a little, but he didn't turn around.
Tom threw an Imperius Curse at him, causing nothing in the room to stir or change – except Borgin's state of mind. There was a long pause, where Harry was sure Tom was giving Borgin clear instructions on how to kill Burke. Borgin was still, the quill resting in his hand dripping blots of ink across the parchment he was writing on. Harry watched Tom staring at Borgin, controlling what Borgin would do within the next month. When Tom looked away, Borgin began writing again, doing everything very mechanically as he cleaned the ink away with his wand, and continued like normal.
"Let's go," Tom hissed.
He turned to leave, and Harry followed slightly hesitantly. This too seemed very simple… "Is that it?" he asked, before he could stop himself.
Tom looked at him under the cloak, surprised with this comment. "What else did you expect?" he asked calmly. "We cannot kill Burke tonight, or do anything worse to Borgin."
"I know," Harry replied, not meeting Tom's eyes. "It just seems so… unchallenging."
"The most efficiently planned jobs always are," Tom assured him as they closed the door to Borgin's room, and headed down the stairs.
Neither of them spoke as they stepped into the shop again, walking past the counter. They were about to pass the fireplace, before Tom pulled Harry arm to make him stop.
"Wait," he said.
"What?" Harry asked, a very light shade of alarm becoming apparent.
"The volumes," Tom said, "We need to steal some."
"What?" Harry repeated, his tone disbelieving this time. "We can't take anything, Tom. That's too obvious as evidence –"
"Evidence for what?" Tom asked. "There's no crime here, yet. Burke won't die for another month, and there are countless books that aren't even registered or accounted for in their records yet. I assure you, I know no one will realize the books are gone. Not for months, anyway."
"We don't need them," Harry said, not wanting to dwell within this building any longer.
"One always needs more books," Tom responded, glancing at Harry for only a second before getting out from under the cloak.
"Tom!" Harry exclaimed, "You shouldn't risk being caught now for a few books!"
"You'll like these ones, Harry," Tom said, ignoring Harry's warning as he moved across the room. He walked past many shelves, going to the far left corner of the shop. Harry followed him, to soon see that Tom was now standing in a part of the shop surrounded by only books. "They have a large variety of books dedicated only to the Dark Arts, of course," Tom said.
Harry looked around, and read some of the titles that were printed on the spines of the volumes surrounding them. He recognised quite a few of them, but refrained from mentioning to Tom that this was indeed a fine collection. Tom began taking books, and making a pile on the floor. "How many are you going to take?" Harry asked.
"Only six," Tom replied. "I've had my eye on them I began working here…"
He placed the sixth book on the pile, and picked them up. His eyes travelled across the room, searching for more. He spotted one just behind Harry, who was still partially under the cloak.
"Seven books, actually…" Tom corrected himself, moving forwards to collect the last one. "These are neither the most expensive nor the most cared for here. They are merely the most useful to us both."
"Great," Harry said. "Can we leave now?"
Tom smiled, placing the last book on the pile in his hands. "Yes, we can leave."
