Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The Two Riddles

I was thoroughly confused by Flint. Jessie's knowledge of Flint included poor sportsmanship, dressing up as a dementor during Harry's third year, yellow teeth, and only being liked by the members of Slytherin house. I knew all of that to be true. Except for the dementor part; since it hasn't happened yet. But despite knowing all that to be true, the side Flint was showing me when we conversed was… (and it made me uncomfortable to admit it) different. He liked to phrase his words in ways that got under my skin. That much was clear. But the content of his words seemed to be…. Well-intentioned. I thought back to the time I walked with him and the Slytherin team to the hospital wing. Back then, his questions and statements had been more investigative. I thought he was being nosy for the sake of entertainment. But what if… just maybe, Flint was looking out for Adrian? If there was some truth in that, it definitely added depth to his character. A lot more than 'looks like a troll' and 'is a monster on the quidditch pitch'. And then there was everything that was said at the Puceys' New Years' Eve party. He made his usual, slightly insulting comments. But he also ensured no one else could approach me to do more than make vague insults. Flint also gave me a distressing amount of information Adrian had admitted some truth in later in the night. Still, I couldn't help but wonder if it was all true.

Curiouser and curiouser. It felt like Flint told me things that didn't benefit him or Adrian. It did, however; make me informed of any potential dangers when and if I participated in another one of the Puceys' social events. But why? Why would Flint want to help me? And that last comment about equals- I shook my head, being unable to come up with potential explanations. What was that about?

"Welcome back," Flitwick said as he stood behind the podium in his classroom and smiled brightly at all the first-years present. "I hope everyone had a wonderful break and is looking forward to the new term. I have many new charms for us to tackle this semester". Flitwick reported with the eagerness of a scholar.

I was standing in the back, leaning against the wall. One of my arms hung loosely at my side while the other bent at the elbow so I could absentmindedly twirl a strand of my now completely red hair. I should be paying more attention to what Flitwick is saying. After all, whatever charm Flitwick decided to assign first, I would have to help supervise and instruct. But my thoughts, as they have been ever since New Years', resembled a runaway train. I couldn't slow it down. I couldn't change its course. And I couldn't put a stop to it. It was a train that was filled with the Carrows, Adrian, Flint's surprising behavior, the triad that is daughters, mothers, and society. As well as philosophical thoughts about what exactly makes someone an equal.

I have been unable to disembark from the metaphorical train for days. Nothing had offered enough distraction. Not midnight fireworks or Bill and Charlie leaving or filling Fred and George's trunks with marmalade or having Lockhart/Riddle staring at me through the entire welcome back feast or getting detention in Snape's class for daydreaming. There was just too much I was unsure of and it was driving me batty.

"Now", Flitwick said as he raised both of his hands. "We will split into our usual practice groups and take turns practicing the proper wand movements". Bollocks. I hadn't heard what spell we were working on today. "And Miss Weasley and I will go around in case anyone has any questions". My eyes scanned the room until they landed on Luna. I should be able to get the assignment from her without being called out on the fact that I hadn't been paying attention.

Fred and George found me at lunch; Lee close to their heels. Fred slid into the spot next to me at Gryffindor table as George and Lee sat across from us. "You missed a good defense class", Lee announced as he started to fill his plate with a generous helping of chips and a turkey sandwich.

I was pulled out of my thoughts about Flint secretly being an okay bloke by that statement. Raising an eyebrow, I asked, "A good defense class? Did you have a substitute?" I stuffed a chip into my mouth. A substitute wasn't likely. Lockhart/Riddle had already taken his seat at the teacher's table. Though there was a dark and terrible scowl on his blemish-free face.

"No", George said; happy to share.

"Better", Fred assured me. "Dumbledore sat in the back of the classroom for the entire lesson".

I coughed. Suddenly finding it difficult to swallow my mouthful of potato. "What?" I asked; moisture collecting in the corners of my eyes. I couldn't decide if this was good news or something else entirely. On that day when we tried to confess to Dumbledore, he told us that he would do something about the teaching methods of Lockhart. But with the headmaster's inaction regarding the other information we shared with him, I hadn't believed Dumbledore was going to do anything about his defense professor.

George nodded; enthused as he accepted the pitcher of water passed to him by Lee. "Lockhart was caught off-guard. Dumbledore stared at him the whole class and even took notes".

The mental image of Dumbledore with his long white beard and wrinkles sitting in a classroom with parchment and a quill had me slack-jawed. Lee snorted into his food. "He was sitting next to one of our roommates,'' Lee added. It was left unsaid that it was one of the roommates none of us bothered to get to know. "At one point, Dumbledore asked him if he understood the lesson and if he wanted a copy of his notes".

"It was brilliant", Fred continued around a mouthful. "Lockhart couldn't do any of his demonstrations". Fred spoke the word as if it was something one would only see in a police report. "Dumbledore even asked if one of his infamous demonstrations was on today's agenda".

All three boys laughed at the memory. "You should have seen Lockhart's face", Lee said.

"He looked like he had swallowed a lemon whole", George described.

I shook my head; hoping another car wouldn't be added to my distracting thought train. "Why was Dumbledore sitting through defense?" I asked. Because while their recall of events was interesting and painted amusing mental images, it didn't really tell me anything important. Was this…. intervention going to make our Lockhart/Riddle problem better or worse?

Fred and George shrugged. But Lee answered without pause. "There's a rumor that Lockhart is on probation".

I leaned back in surprise. "Probation?" I asked for confirmation. Can teachers even be put on probation? As far as I know, it's never happened before.

"Yeah", Lee said as he furiously nodded. "Because of all those complaints against him last term. I think Dumbledore got a lot more after everyone went home for the break and complained to their parents".

And that… made sense. I don't think anyone would be thrilled with a report that their child was being used as a spell dummy by their defense professor. Even if he was a celebrity. I mulled over the different possible outcomes of Lockhart being on probation in my head. I started munching on my chips again without really intending to eat them. It was a good thing for Hogwarts, I decided. If Lockhart's probation leads to him being sacked, then the student population would be spared any further abuse. But if Lockhart was kicked out of Hogwarts before Fred, George, and I could get the diary back, we would lose a Horcrux and Lockhart would still be possessed. Or, at least until Riddle sucked out all of Lockhart's life force and gained a physical form. Nervously, I turned my head in the direction of the teachers' table. Lockhart's plate was awkwardly empty. But he was taking long gulps from his goblet as he stared in the direction of my brothers, Lee, and me. Shadows guarded his gaze. A pin-prick shiver ran over my entire body as I turned forward. My left hand flew up to grasp the necklace I had taken to wearing every day. We needed to do something. But I didn't have the foggiest idea what that something should be.

After dinner I found myself sitting in my usual spot in Snape's potions lab. Dirty cauldrons were stacked on the tabletop and on the floor around me. There had to be at least twenty-five of them. I had a wooden scrub brush in one hand while the other was propped up under my chin. When Snape told me what my task was for the night, I had taken off my robe and rolled up my sleeves to make sure they didn't get in the way when I was elbow deep in cauldron scum. But one cauldron in, and I found myself… distracted. Equals. What did Flint mean by that? And why was it something only I could offer and not those daughters and their match-making mothers?

"Miss Weasley", Snape's irritated tones reached my ears and pulled me out of my thoughts. He sat behind his desk with a small mountain of essays waiting for him to mark with red ink. The sight made me feel apologetic to whatever class had been given that assignment, considering that it was the first school day back from the holiday. "Your task is to clean cauldrons", Snape stated as he pinned me in place with his coal-black eyes. "Not to stare off in the distance".

I shifted in my seat and set the scrub brush down. Much to Snape's displeasure. "Professor Snape", I started. Causing Snape to furrow his brows as he glared at me; daring me to continue. But after being exposed to a teacher like Lockhart/Riddle, I didn't find Snape as intimidating as I used to. "What does the word equal mean?" Of course, I knew the definition. But I thought hearing the answer paraphrased by someone else might give me a different insight.

"That, Weasley", Snape spoke slowly with disdain. "Is a question meant for a dictionary".

I sighed, knowing Snape had just given me a disguised order to shut up. But a small part of me was having fun, so I said, "Oh. So, you don't know". Snape's glare turned murderous and in a normal mood, if I wasn't so preoccupied, I would have been affected. However, I kept going. "I was thinking-"

Snape cut me off. "Then congratulations are in order", he said sardonically. "I know how difficult a feat thinking must be for you". Is it just me, or was Snape gripping his quill just a little too tightly?

"That the word equal might have different meanings to different people in different contexts", I continued as if Snape hadn't said anything. Though Snape did look like he would very much enjoy throwing his inkwell at me. "What do you think, Professor?" I asked, playing with fire.

"I think", Snape started with a low growl. "That this is detention. Not a seminar. Therefore, your reflections on the meaning of words are unwarranted. Now, be quiet and clean those cauldrons so I may be rid of you as soon as possible".

I shrugged as I picked up the scrub brush, deciding to give Snape a respite. Pulling a cauldron closer to me, I tipped it to its side and got to work. But I wasn't working very long before the door swung open and a slightly panicked voice filled the room, "Professor Snape!"

Looking over my shoulder I got a good look at one of the younger Slytherins. I didn't recognize her, but she was short and undeveloped. Meaning she had to either be a first or second year. "Miss Parkinson", Snape said as if he was nursing a headache. "What warrants this dramatic entrance?"

Not reading his tone, the girl continued in the same fashion she had entered the room in. "Goyle got his hand stuck in a toilet". Her answer caused me to snort obnoxiously loud. I tried to cover my mouth to keep it contained but failed miserably if Snape's furious expression was anything to go off. "One of the prefects tried to solve the problem by vanishing the toilet, but now there's water gushing everywhere". Snape's right eye started to twitch. "It's flowing down the boys' staircase like a waterfall". I choked on a chuckle. "And no one can figure out how to make it stop". Parkinson finished.

Snape stood up, although it was very clear he wanted nothing to do with this situation. He started moving around his desk as he called out orders to me. "You are to stay here; silently. And when I get back you better have finished cleaning at least four of these cauldrons". Snape reached the spot where Parkinson stood waiting for him. He turned around; probably to make sure I was actually listening. "If I find that you are short by even one, you will be serving detention with me every day this week".

I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. "But I thought you wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible, Professor".

Snape didn't reward me with a response as he swept out of the room with Parkinson chasing his heels. As the door slammed shut behind them, I allowed myself to freely laugh as I turned back to the cauldron I was currently working on. Got his hand stuck in a toilet? How did that occur? Though, I'm sure I'll hear all about it tomorrow from Adrian.

I probably worked for about five minutes when I heard the door open again. The sound of the hinges squeaking made me roll my eyes. "That's not fair, Professor Snape". I complained. "You can't expect me to have cleaned four cauldrons-" I said as I turned around. But who I saw entering the room had me falling silent. My blood ran cold and I dropped the scrub brush as the newcomer closed the door behind him.

"You're a difficult person to talk to, Miss Weasley", Lockhart said as he turned to face me. He was wearing purple robes today. Not Dumbledore purple; more of a royal purple. But it didn't fit his devious smile. In fact, I doubt this was Lockhart standing in front of me at all. "Ever since you got yourself pulled from my class, there's always been someone accompanying you every step you make".

Please, Fred and George. I found myself praying. Please be watching the map. But I knew they weren't. Wood had scheduled a team meeting. It was too dark to hold a practice, but that didn't mean Wood would miss a chance to make his team study his playbook. "Do you need something, Professor Lockhart?" I asked as I tried to hide my trembling. My mouth suddenly became dry and I was finding it difficult to speak. "Professor Snape just left but he will be back any minute". I lied. It was the same trick every single woman should know. Never tell a date you live alone. Always tell them you have a roommate that is waiting for you to come home at a specific time. I was doing the same thing with Lockhart now. Except, instead of a roommate waiting for me, it was a professor that would come back at any moment. And then, just because I didn't want to give him a reason to wait with me for Snape to return, I added, "I'd be happy to pass on a message to him".

Evil glinted in Lockhart's blue eyes. "I'm sure you would, Miss Weasley", Lockhart mocked as he walked closer. I stood up and skirted around the other side of the lab table. As if that was a good enough shield to keep Lockhart/Riddle away. The possessed professor continued to approach as he said, "But I think we both know why I'm here". He was only two tables away. "As you so eloquently put in our last class together, a better name to call me by is Professor Riddle". One table away.

I slipped a shaking hand downwards; like I was trying to get into my pocket for my wand. Before I remembered I had taken my robe off to clean cauldrons. And by now, Riddle was closer to my robe than I was. Dread dropped to the pit of my stomach like a stone sinking in water. Was this it? Was I facing death? Clearly, I was bad at living. I was in my twenties when Jessie died. But this time I hadn't even made it out of my teens. Was I ever going to experience middle age? "You're not Gilderoy Lockhart", I said without meaning to speak.

Riddle stopped his pursuit; his arms hanging at his sides as he gave me a simpering smile. I gulped. "How did you know?" He asked.

"I didn't", I answered, my voice coming out meek. Not at all like my usual volume. "I mean, I wa-wasn't completely sure".

Riddle seemed to bask in my unease as he hummed at my answer. "Was it at the quidditch game where I temporarily disabled Potter?" Riddle asked, spatting Harry's name like it left a terrible aftertaste.

My breathing picked up, but I managed a response. "After", I said honestly. Too panicked to lie. I didn't want to die. Despite knowing about Riddle and all the impending hardship, I like my current life. I wanted more time with Fred and George. I wanted to learn how to cook more dishes from Mum and explain muggle things to Dad. I wanted to… to see where things would go with Adrian. But, for the second time in my two lives, I was staring at the face of a killer.

"How?" Riddle asked smoothly. He took another step closer to me. I was frozen in place; fear locking my muscles.

"I- I don't know". My voice came out in a moist squeak. "I have- have memories. Memories that don't belong to me", I admitted.

Riddle took another step. Now, he was so close that I had no problem hearing him when he whispered, "Tell me. Tell me the name I prefer".

I gulped even though there was nothing to swallow. "Lord Voldemort", I whispered in return; almost quieter than him. The first tear of many fell down my left cheek.

Riddle let out a sinister laugh that bounced off the stone walls like a bad omen. He reached out and clapped a hand onto each of my shoulders. I flinched at the contact but didn't have the courage to push him off. "I knew I was right", Riddle congratulated himself as pulled me in closer. "You made a good show of avoiding me, my dear. But this was inevitable". The blue eyes of Gilderoy Lockhart that carried the devilish glint of Riddle bored into my face. I started to shed more tears. Positive that in a matter of mere seconds I would be embarking on life number three. But then the things Riddle was saying stopped making sense. "So, I succeeded", Riddle said more to himself. But he appeared to not mind that I overheard him. "I made more than just one. I'm not the only one".

I had no idea what Riddle meant by 'not the only one', and I wasn't in any hurry to find out. Instead, I stayed completely still. Hoping without hope that Riddle would forget about me. It was too soon. Too soon to say goodbye to Holly.

"Though why I chose the daughter of blood traitors, I'll never know", Riddle spoke darkly as his eyes studied me with great scrutiny like I was lesser. Like I was lacking. And I imagine in his eyes, I was. But I couldn't figure out why any of that warranted him to comment on it if he was just going to dispose of me. And I had no idea what he was getting on about by 'chose'.

Riddles' eyes returned to my tear-stained face as I continued to quake under his hands. His face didn't soften, but he cooed at me like I was an abandoned puppy. "Don't worry". He said as he let go of one of my shoulders. He reached up and traced a misleadingly gentle finger over my jaw bone. A different type of tremor shot up my spine. "My precious Horcrux. You may be unworthy. But what your body contains makes you indispensable".

My breath hitched. He-he thought…. That I-I was…. "Horcrux?" I voiced in a rough whisper. How could he come to that conclusion?

But Riddle thought I was asking something else. He smiled as he withdrew his hand from my face and stepped away from me altogether. "Yes", he started to explain. "A Horcrux. A container of a soul fragment".

The thought train that had controlled my head for days came to an official end and a new one immediately took its place. Riddle thought… he thought that I was… like him. Like the diary. Made after him. By an older Tom Riddle. By Lord Voldemort. My head hurt and I couldn't decide if Riddle's blunder in logic was something I could use or something that would have nastier consequences than simply being killed. But why would he think that I was… I recalled everything I said in defense class; that time I called him Professor riddle. I had revealed things I shouldn't have known. "My memories", I whispered to myself; almost in disbelief. I stopped crying. Too busy fitting strings of information together to be overly emotional.

But Riddle heard me. "Yes", he agreed; seemingly pleased that I was catching up. "As soon as that oaf Lockhart gave me enough of his life force and I could control his body, I sensed there was another roaming Hogwarts. But Lockhart's magical core is unfortunately weak", Riddle said with a sneer, like others' shortcomings were personally offensive. "I could never pinpoint what, or rather who, the Horcrux was".

"You can sense other parts of your soul?" I asked.

"Can't you?" Riddle countered.

I sensed this was a test and my mind immediately went blank. But my gut saw an opportunity and in a true Gryffindor fashion, I reacted. "Yes", I lied before realizing what I was doing. "S-so…" I stuttered. "If you found me", It felt weird to say such a simple thing in this context. "Have you had luck finding the third?" Instantly, I was wracking my brain; trying to remember if Dumbledore had the ring yet. He didn't, right? The only Horcruxes in the castle right now were Harry, the diary, and the diadem. If that was correct, then maybe… maybe I'll see tomorrow.

Riddle raised a poised eyebrow. "There's a third", he asked, sounding intrigued.

Having found my footing, I took a deep breath before asking, "Can't you sense it?"

Riddle quirked the lips on Lockhart's face. "Tell me".

Before I could utter anything about the diadem or the room of requirement, the door to the potions classroom swung open; allowing Snape and his billowing black robes re-entry. Riddle turned away from me at the sound. At once, I bent over and my shoulders heaved for lungs full of air. I hadn't realized how little my breaths had become until I was gasping for it.

Snape's temper hadn't improved in the time he spent sorting out the unplanned pool party in Slytherin house. "What are you doing here?" He asked Lockhart/Riddle; glowering.

"I was in need of some potion ingredients". Lockhart said. Gone were the psychopathically smooth tones of Horcrux riddle. And in its place was the egotistical manners of a man who believed he was beloved by all. "Miss Weasley was generously helping me".

Peering around Lockhart, I tried to communicate with Snape through my eyes. Please, I thought. Please see that this was much, much more than just potion ingredients. Snape's eyes flickered over my face briefly. But he seemed unwilling to look away from Lockhart for long. I almost wished Snape would invade my mind just so he could see and hear everything Riddle had said and done. But I know that wouldn't work. All that would do was make me seize on the floor and reveal that I was a reincarnated soul. That would assuredly plant a seed of doubt in Riddle's logic that I contained a piece of his fractured essence. "My stores of ingredients are not for the use of staff", Snape said sternly.

Lockhart nodded. "As Miss Weasley just told me", he said as he started to move towards Snape. "Please don't ask what I needed them for", Lockhart spoke in a good-natured voice. "It's a secret. One Miss Weasley promised to keep". It was spoken casually, but I heard it for what it was; a warning. Lockhart's head swung towards me. "We'll talk soon, Miss Weasley. Keep up your good work". And he left. Lockhart left out of the door, leaving me alone with Snape.

I could hear my heart beating loudly as I stood up straight to watch Lockhart/Riddle leave, needing to see with my own eyes that he was no longer in the room. As I did this, one of my hands flew up to grip the pendant hanging around my neck. My fingers traced the little crystals embedded in it. He was gone. He was gone for now, and I was alive. I was still Holly.

"Weasley", Snape said hesitantly. He didn't want to, but he was obligated to do so. "Are you alright?"

I took a couple more breaths before I felt safe enough to turn my eyes to Snape. He stood a comfortable distance away from me. He was even holding both of his hands at his sides instead of folded across his chest like he usually does. This allowed me to see both of his hands. I'm not sure why it mattered. But at that moment, it meant a lot. His lips formed a thin line as he studied me. For once, Snape appeared in no rush to force an answer from a student. Having no idea what I should do or how I should even start, I reached up with my hand that wasn't holding my necklace and rubbed my eyes dry. "I didn't finish cleaning even one cauldron, Professor". It was the only thing I felt safe admitting.

Even though I had just given a comment that would usually cause Snape to at least dock house points, all Snape did was shift his weight from one foot to the other. He eyed me. He eyed the stacks of dirty cauldrons. And he took his time like he needed to phrase it just right before he said, "This one time, I will forgive you inadequacy. Only because you look more like a ghost than a girl". Snape stepped forward. Like someone expecting a blow, my breath hitched and I flinched violently when he passed me to get to his desk. Snape noticed. I could tell because he paused right after I reacted. Concern could be read in his dark eyes before it was successfully masked. "Collect your things and go", Snape ordered as he continued his path back to his marking.

I took small and shaky steps forward to retrieve my robe and wand. That sounded like a wonderful idea. I would return to Gryffindor tower, liberate Fred and George from Wood's clutches, and… and…. How was I going to get back to Gryffindor Tower? I'd have to walk. It was after dinner. There wouldn't be many students wandering the halls. What if Riddle found me? What if he was waiting for me? I turned around. "S-Sir?" I stammered, not feeling like myself at all. Snape looked in my direction. He hadn't managed to sit down in his desk chair yet, but he had been about to. "Would you-" I had to stop once before I managed to get all my words out. "Would you walk me back to Gryffindor Tower?" If I wasn't so cold… If I wasn't trembling… If adrenaline wasn't surging through my veins, I probably would be blushing. No student had probably ever asked Snape such a question.

As evident by the absolute blindsided expression on his face. What was he thinking? Was he wondering what happened that would cause me to be afraid to walk by myself? It wasn't long before Snape schooled his face into his typical expressionless state. "I will do no such thing". My shoulders dropped. I was afraid of that. "But", Snape spoke up. "I will summon a house-elf to accompany you".

I felt a surge of gratitude and it must have shown in my eyes because Snape appeared to become very uncomfortable. "Did I ever tell you that you're my favorite teacher?" For the first time in my life, I think I saw Snape's worried expression.