A/N: Thanks to BadAZkenB for the feedback- hopefully this resolves the issue. Thank you to everyone who leaves feedback.
: Thanks to Twinkledew for catching that continuity error in the previous, it has been corrected. ?
-o0o-
"Miss Granger!" called Professor McGonagall sharply, drawing Hermione's attention as she and her beau stepped off the central staircase. The professor had been waiting for the girl at the entrance to the Great Hall. She had hoped that the measures that the Wizengamot had put into place would have made a difference but, unfortunately there had not been any great improvement in her once best student's behaviour. The incident with Katie Bell, had led to her delay in addressing the latest matter until now.
"Yes Professor," Hermione said smiling sweetly at her austere Head of House.
"Contrary to the directive from the Wizengamot, I have been advised that you visited Hogsmeade yesterday," she looked at the girl sternly.
"Oh no," Hermione denied innocently. "Cormac and I wandered the grounds for most of the day." She glanced to Cormac who nodded his head, happily providing her alibi. There was no way a girl as beautiful as Hermione deserved the punishment that the Wizengamot had imposed. Surely his angel could do no wrong and it was all just a misunderstanding. It was ridiculous, he had written to his father to see about getting it revoked, it was only a matter of time before the restrictions were going to be lifted anyway, so why worry about enforcing them.
"Really?" McGonagall ignored the boy, "so Miss Patil did not see you and Mr McLaggen emerging from the Three Broomsticks yesterday afternoon," she raised her hand as Hermione opened her mouth to protest, "Be aware that Mr Southerby reported he saw you in Schivencrafts and both Miss Templeton and Mr Swannage said they saw you at Honeydukes."
"Parvati's just lying to get me in trouble so she doesn't lose the prefect's badge! Professor Dumbledore's told me that she's already in trouble and will be losing it any day now," Hermione complained.
McGonagall frowned, "That is enough Miss Granger. First of all, not that it is any of your concern, Miss Patil has been doing an exemplary job as Gryffindor prefect and is at no risk of being withdrawn from the position. Secondly it was Padma and not Parvati, who came to say that she had seen you. And, thirdly even if I thought Miss Patil was being less than honest, which I do not believe, she was not the only…"
"Then Parvati has convinced the others to-" Hermione interrupted the Gryffindor Head of House.
"I said that was enough!" McGonagall snapped. "Miss Templeton and Mr Swannage are the Head Boy and Girl, they hold their positions primarily because of their honesty. All the prefects are aware of the restrictions you are currently under and have been advised to report when you are seen out of bounds or otherwise breaking the orders." McGonagall, paused to take a deep breath, "You will be serving two further detentions this week; you will have an extra session with the Mediwitch and I will be writing to both the board of Governors and the Wizengamot. Your detentions will be with Filch, do not think for a second that the headmaster has time to take these detentions as well as the ones he is already overseeing. Oh and for future reference, Argus Filch has now been informed that you are not allowed to attend Hogsmeade as well. I am very disappointed in your behaviour. You knew you were not to go to Hogsmeade and yet you went anyway, the quality of your schoolwork has fallen, and you have half the first years terrified. I had hoped that you would make the most of the chance you have been given but you have yet to do so."
"But …" Hermione frowned knowing that Dumbledore had deliberately refrained from telling the caretaker. The woman spoiled anything, not that there was any doubt that Albus Dumbledore would fix it, but probably not before she had been made to attend the two detentions and extra Mind-Healer visit.
"And Mr McLaggen," the stern witch turned her attention to the young man at Hermione's side, "you should consider the implications of either encouraging or assisting Miss Granger in avoiding the Wizengamot's directive. Especially for one whose relatives work there. Next time you will join Miss Granger in detention."
Forestalling further argument, McGonagall strode off towards the long table at the front of the hall, where she could be seen having terse words with the Headmaster.
"Those rotten snitches!" Hermione hissed like an angry goose.
"What?" Cormac looked at her in confusion.
"How does the saying go? Oh yes, snitches end up in ditches," she muttered vehemently.
"Hermione? What do snitches have to do with anything?" McLaggen blinked at her in confusion.
Hermione looked over at his adorably confused face, "Never mind that, it's a muggle thing," she shrugged and took his arm, "what we need to think about is how we are going to extract our revenge."
-o0o-
Dumbledore watched as the visiting Mediwizards carefully prepared to transfer Katie Bell. She was being removed to St Mungo's Hospital of Magical Maladies and Injuries. As the only Mediwitch for a school full of children Madame Pomfrey did not have the time to devote to the one-on-one care that Katie would need while she recovered.
"Poppy," Dumbledore turned to face the woman as the group disappeared through the floo.
Poppy Pomfrey froze at the predatory tone of his voice, wondering what the man could possibly have found fault with and fearing another Obliviation. The other teachers had been dropping in to check on Katie and though they all knew she was being moved today the matron hoped desperately that one of them would stop by regardless, or that there was some other distraction that might interrupt him.
"Yes headmaster."
"During the break," his voice was as slick as oil leaving an incandescent smudge across a flow of water, "I needed to access the hospital wing and was prevented from doing so by a strange sort of ward. Was there a reason for it?"
"Oh dear the wards must have malfunctioned," Poppy dithered worriedly, this was good, this she could explain this, "I had Bathsheda erect them after I noticed that horrible woman had come in here last year, not to mention a couple of potions go missing every week. Why the students don't just ask for them I don't know. It costs us a fortune in replacement potions," she tutted before a glance at his face had her continuing to explain, "I believe one of her students created them for an assignment and they were keen to test them out. They shouldn't have activated if you were just coming in here to get a pepper up or headache potion! As a member of staff, you're allowed to access the potions."
"You'll need to have them removed," Dumbledore said firmly, on one hand it would be good for the school's budget, but it was just too inconvenient.
"If they're faulty I will certainly have them taken down. What did you need, Headmaster? Were you injured?" she looked him up and down as if she were trying to see any injuries he might be hiding in his voluptuous robes. "Are you alright? Not sleeping well? Headaches?"
"I was merely looking for the magical signature of one of the students," said Dumbledore. He was happy, at least it did not seem like Poppy needed a behavioural adjustment. Obviously, it had been an honest mistake, though why they were testing out wards a student had created was beyond him, Bathsheda should have developed the wards herself, he would have to mention it to her. Perhaps she could make an adjustment just to exclude him.
"Oh that might well be the reason they activated then," she said with a small nod with a faint air of relief. "I think the wards would assessed that as theft so they would have prevented your entry."
"Humph, well if you can just fetch it for me now." Really it was ridiculous, didn't he have the right to know the student's magical signatures, he was their Headmaster after all. How else could he keep an eye on them once they had left Hogwarts hallowed halls? The wards would have to go, if they thought him merely copying magical signatures was theft, how would they view his harvesting of the students blood?
"I'm sorry but that's impossible headmaster," Poppy shook her head.
"Why? I haven't even told you who's it was that I needed," Dumbledore asked blandly, why had this suddenly become so difficult? Really couldn't she just fetch it for him, or just let him get it himself.
"You don't need to, Albus. I don't keep them, it's against policy. Magical resonances are only taken if required to treat the patient's ailment and copies are immediately destroyed upon their discharge. More often than not for the types of injuries that I see here, I never need them, but certainly the one or two from last year have already been disposed of. It's not like they are useful outside of the hospital wing for anything other than identification and as we already know who all our students are what would we keep them for anyway?"
"I see," Dumbledore's voice lowered, rumbling like distant thunder, making the Mediwitch take a step away from the man, fortunately he had turned away. "I would like them kept in future!" he demanded as he made his way to the door.
"Unfortunately, that's not possible," Madame Pomfrey said hesitantly.
"Not possible!" he paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned his head to glare at her with cold blue eyes.
"It's part of the rules of Mediwitch registration, it would compromise the patient's confidentiality, sir!" her voice squeaked a little, as she hoped that whatever he was going to do to her would not prevent her from treating the children. "I would be stripped of my license if I did otherwise. You won't find any Mediwitch who would agree to it. Even St Mungo's don't keep them."
Fingers tightened on the wand that had appeared in his hand.
Suddenly the door pushed open, breaking the icy gaze, as four children rushed past giggling. The youngest of them had a magnificent set of rabbit ears, and a matching fluffy tail.
"Oh dear, been practicing charms have we?" Madame Pomfrey said masking her relief. "Come over here then, let's have a look at you?" She bustled them over to the bed in the far corner and pulled the curtains around.
Seething, Dumbledore stormed from the hospital wing. As soon as the door swung closed behind him, he flicked out his wand and the glass burst from all the windows in the hall, raining shards on the unsuspecting students below.
-o0o-
Putting her pen down and tidying her notes, Charlotte Smith sighed. She really was not sure what to make of the girl. Perhaps she needed to consult with someone who was an expert in soul magics. They said that killing someone tore you soul. Charlotte had so many questions. Did it matter if the person you killed was good or bad? Was it killing that had the affect or just casting the spell? Perhaps Hermione's lack of conscience could be related to casting the killing curse. Or perhaps she had sociopathic personality traits before that?
Her latest comments, around receiving detention because she had broken the rules of her grounding were somewhat troubling. While she had not explicitly threatened the prefects who had reported her, she was very definitely angry at them.
The problem was that the girl was actually reasonably intelligent and seemed to have learnt what not to say. As a psychologist Charlotte had seen it before, people could learn the system, they could learn what it was that you wanted then to say in order to get what they wanted and when saying what they actually thought would get them in more trouble. Sometimes this behaviour was prompted by someone else coaching them, sometimes it was just the particular person's intelligence. Whatever it was in this case, Hermione was learning. She clearly knew not to say certain things, like that she wanted to inflict some sort of painful revenge on those who had bought tales of her visiting Hogsmeade back to the Deputy Headmistress, though her delusions were still strong enough that she could not hide that she did not think she should be punished at all. Clearly there was a lack of respect for the Wizengamot and a belief that she should exist outside of the rules they had set.
Perhaps there were some other therapies that she could try. There was a spell that would make Hermione feel the pain she caused others, though it needed a parent or guardian's permission to be cast and the girl did not often hit other people. Not for the first time Charlotte wondered who was behind the girl's behaviours her concept of reality was so altered it was almost she had been brainwashed. After deep consideration the therapist wrote a recommendation to have the child checked for compulsions, and other mind-altering spells and potions. With a sigh, she signed the entry and packed up ready to leave.
-o0o-
Hermione walked between the shelves, trying not to let the anxiety get to her. She would find what they needed. It was just that she had very little time. The prefect had agreed to bring her to the library, after some judicious bribery (good to know for later) but had set a time limit of just one hour. In the span of sixty minutes she had to search the entirety of the restricted section. The Headmaster had signed her slip of course, not that she had used it, Hermione had merely disillusioned herself and confounded the librarian, it was good to keep in practice. It was a handy little spell duo, especially combined with a babbling beverage. She had a whole diary full of blackmail from when she had been experimenting with it.
Hermione chuckled to herself, as she perused the books. The Art of Befuddlement - Dark Magic on a Dare – boring! She had long since mastered befuddling hexes and such. She moved on. Bargining with Beings - Interpreting your Inner Demons – that sounded too much like Divination. However, the next Bending the Mind and Will of the Weak– sounded more interesting.
She slipped the book free from the bookcase. Spelling the dustcover silent just as the Headmaster had shown her to do. Nimble fingers unlatched it from the chains binding it to its shelf and dropped it into the side pocket of her bag. Now that was done perhaps, she could use the last forty-five minutes to find something new, a book of spells to challenge her. She was certain the Headmaster would be impressed with the ease at which she could cast the Unforgivables now, so it was time to start expanding her horizons. Dumbledore had warned about the spells affects, saying the stronger she was the less she would feel it, and he was right, every day it was getting easier to ignore the nauseous stomach and thumping headaches that casting those spells caused.
With a giggle she returned to perusing the shelves running a finger along the dustjackets, until one stopped her with a sharp sting. Sucking the drop of blood off her finger she inspected the offending tome: Taming Transmogrification - The book's blood red leather cover was eye-catching, and she quickly tucked it into her bag as well. Finally with a disgruntled huff Hermione made her way over to the Prefect who was standing by the door.
"Did you find everything you needed then?"
"Yes, I believe I did thanks very much," Hermione forced her face to smile.
-o0o-
The common room was a buzz with the news of Katie's attack, though details were confused and no-one other than Leanne, Harry, Ron, and Percival seemed to know that Katie had not been the intended target. There was much conjecture over who could possibly want to harm the gregarious girl, with the most common hypothesis being a jealous Quidditch rival. It was a quarter to eight and Hermione had already departed for Dumbledore's office. Harry was procrastinating.
"Go on, you'd best leave now, or you'll be late," Ron said nudging Harry with his foot, causing him to rock slightly and bump shoulders with Percival.
"You've finished all your homework so you can't even use that as an excuse," Neville said with a chuckle.
"Fine, but I'll have you know I've got a bad feeling about this," Harry complained.
He had wanted to have another detention with Severus so that they could view the memory together first but between Quidditch, homework and Severus's genuinely issued detentions to other students, they had not managed to find the time. It left Harry feeling unsettled and ill-prepared. He got to his feet and made his way out of the portrait hole arriving at the Headmaster's office at exactly eight o'clock. Pushing the door open Harry could have sworn he heard the cut off chirp of a bird as the door swung open.
There sat Dumbledore looking as he always did, in his visually contrasting robes, he gestured for Harry to sit down in the unoccupied seat, the one on the left being filled by Hermione, who had hurriedly bent forward. She flicked her wand quickly. Harry recognised the pattern of movement of the vanishing spell, before she straightened, laid her wand on her lap and tucked the hair that had come loose behind her ear.
"You've had a busy time since I last saw you," Dumbledore said, ignoring Hermione's actions. "I believe you witnessed Miss Bell's accident."
"Yes, sir. Do you know how she is? Only we didn't want to annoy Madame Pomfrey but the Quidditch team is keen for an update."
"Still very unwell I'm afraid, although she was relatively lucky. It appears she brushed the necklace with the smallest possible amount of skin; there was a tiny hole in her glove. Had the contact been more prolonged who knows what the consequence could have been. Luckily Professor Snape was able to do enough to prevent a rapid spread of the curse-"
"Snape?" Harry acted surprised.
"Professor Snape! Harry!" Hermione hissed.
"He's still not Madame Pomfrey?" Harry retorted, playing his part to perfection. How Dumbledore had not realised that his relationship with the potions professor was no longer adversarial, Harry did not know, but he was going to try to keep it that way as long as possible.
"I am sure you will be surprised to learn, and I tell you this in the strictest confidence," here Hermione sat up straighter in her chair, "that Professor Snape knows more about the Dark Arts than Madame Pomfrey, indeed more than any member of staff. At any rate the staff at St Mungo's have been sending me regular reports and I'm hopeful that Miss Bell will make a full recovery in time."
There was an awkward pause then, one that Harry felt no need to fill.
"Sir, I could not help notice that you were away from the school yesterday. Where were you?" Hermione asked, into the silence. "Did the Minister call you away again?"
"Impertinent," said a soft voice from one of the portraits on the wall, and Phineus Nigellus Black, Sirius's great-great-grandfather, raised his head from his arms where he had appeared to be sleeping. "I would not have permitted a student to question the way Hogwarts operated in my day."
"Yes, thank-you, Phineus," said Dumbledore quellingly. "As it happens, I would rather not say," his voice held a faint warning note that caused Hermione to back down immediately, hunching slightly and dropping her eyes to the floor.
Harry wondered if he should ask if Dumbledore knew of his suspicion that the culprit behind Katie's attack was Draco Malfoy but decided that it would make no difference to the man's actions either way. Besides he had told McGonagall and Sirius was already keeping an eye on the situation, so he kept his silence.
"I would rather proceed with today's lesson. I believe it to be far more important than an old man's outings," Dumbledore continued eyes twinkling.
Harry did not see the twitch of the vine-wood wand, that caused a small ball churning resentment to form in his stomach and made his scar ache as he wondered why if their lessons were so important, there been such a long gap between the first and second? Harry shook his head pushing away the errant thought; what did he care how long there was between lessons? The longer the better, as it would be less time he had to spend with Hermione and Dumbledore. He watched in silence as Dumbledore poured fresh memories into the Pensieve and began swirling the stone basin once more between his long-fingered hands.
"You will remember, I am sure, that we left the tale of Lord Voldemort's beginnings at the point where the handsome muggle, Tom Riddle, had abandoned his wife, Merope and returned to his family home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left alone in London, expecting the baby who would one day become Lord Voldemort."
"How do you know she went to London, sir?" Hermione asked.
"Because of the evidence of one Caractacus Burke," said Dumbledore. "Who, by odd circumstance, helped found the very shop whence came the necklace that harmed poor Miss Bell."
He swilled the contents of the Pensieve much as a gold prospector sifts for gold. Up out of the swirling, silvery mass, rose a little old man, revolving slowly in the Penseive, silver as a ghost but much more solid, with a thatch of hair that completely covered his eyes.
The pressing feeling on Harry's scar intensified and the knot in his stomach grew.
"Yes, we acquired it in curious circumstances," the man in the image stated, "It was bought in by a young witch before Christmas, oh, many years ago now. She said she needed gold badly, well, that much was obvious. Covered in rags and pretty far along … going to have a baby, see. She said the locket had been Slytherin's. Well, we hear that sort of story all the time, 'Oh, this was Merlin's, this was, his favourite teapot,' but when I looked at it, it had his mark all right, and a few simple spells were enough to tell me the truth. Of course, that made it near enough priceless. She didn't have any idea how much it was worth. Happy to get ten Galleons for it. Best bargain we ever made!"
Dumbledore gave the Pensieve an extra vigorous shake and Caractacus Burke descended into the swirling mass of memory whence he came. Leaving Harry wondering who it was that he had been speaking to and how Dumbledore had retrieved the memory. The thought flittered away, seeming hard to hold on to.
"He only gave her ten Galleons?" Hermione asked aghast.
"Yes indeed, Caractacus Burke was not known for his generosity," said Dumbledore. "So, we know that near the end of her pregnancy, Merope was alone in London and in desperate need of gold, desperate enough to sell her one and only valuable possession, the locket that was one of Marvolo's treasured family heirlooms."
Harry wondered how Merope, who had the ability to perform magic, had fallen into such a state of desperation. Surely, she could have used it to expand the volume of food she had, or conjure shelter, clean her clothes and a dozen other small tasks that could have been used to improve her circumstances and the tension in his stomach solidified, bringing with it anger.
"But she could do magic!" he said. "She could have got food and everything by magic, couldn't she?" Yes that was right Dumbledore had said last time that once her father and brother had left her skills had improved vastly.
"Ah," said Dumbledore in that sage way he had when he was about to point out that you had made a rather silly and obvious mistake, "perhaps she could. But it is my belief - I am guessing again, but I am sure I am right - that when her husband abandoned her, Merope stopped using magic altogether. I do not think that she wanted to be a witch any longer. Of course, it is possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen. In any case, as you are about to see, Merope refused to raise her wand even to save her own life."
The idea danced across Harry's mind, and something seemed so very wrong with it. How could the man be considered her husband when the marriage was formed in a cauldron? Magic coming and going? What about a mother's love for her unborn child was that not a strong enough incentive to keep living? To keep using magic? A shard of a thought skittered away … something was wrong.
"Hers? Wouldn't she even stay alive for her own son?" Harry asked in disbelief.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
"Could you possibly be feeling sorry for Lord Voldemort?"
"No," said Harry flatly, "I just don't understand, she had a choice, didn't she, not like my mother-"
"Your mother had a choice too," said Dumbledore eyes twinkling and a smile on his lips. "Yes, Merope Riddle chose death despite having a son who needed her, but do not judge her too harshly. She was greatly weakened by long suffering, and she never had your mother's courage. And now if you will stand …"
Harry was left dissatisfied, something irked him about the whole situation, and he wanted to protest. Just how did Dumbledore know that Harry's mother had had a choice? And how did he know what Merope was feeling?
"Where are we going?" Hermione asked while Harry was caught up in his own thoughts, and Dumbledore moved around the desk so that they stood on either side of the boy like bookends, leaving him nowhere to hide.
"This time," said Dumbledore giving Hermione significant look over Harry's head," we are going to enter my memory. I think you will find it rich in detail and satisfyingly accurate. After you Harry …"
He gave the distracted boy a nudge, causing him to tumble face first into the cool liquid darkness. Seconds later Harry's feet hit firm ground, he opened his eyes and he found that Hermione and Dumbledore had joined him in a bustling, old-fashioned London street.
"There I am," said Dumbledore brightly, pointing ahead of them to a tall figure crossing the road in front of a horse-drawn milk cart.
This younger Albus Dumbledore's hair and beard were auburn and trimmed neatly. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off up the pavement. Harry stared, where the current Dumbledore wore garishly flamboyant robes of fuchsia, the younger version wore a rather dapper three-piece suit in dove grey. What had happened there?
They followed the younger version of Dumbledore through a set of iron gates into a bare courtyard that fronted a rather, grim, square building surrounded by high railings and up the few steps that led to the front door. Young Dumbledore's knock was answered by a scruffy girl wearing a stain spotted apron.
"Good afternoon. I have an appointment with Mrs. Cole, who I believe is matron here?"
"Oh," said the bewildered looking girl, taking in Dumbledore's stylish appearance. "Um … just a mo' … MRS. COLE!" she bellowed over her shoulder.
A distant voice shouted something in response and the girl turned back to Dumbledore.
"Come in, she's on 'er way."
They joined the pair in a hallway that was tiled black and white; the whole place was shabby but spotlessly clean. Before the front door had finished closing, a skinny harassed-looking woman came scurrying towards them. She had a sharp-featured face that appeared more anxious than unkind, and she was talking over her shoulder to another aproned helper as she walked towards Dumbledore.
"… and take the iodine upstairs to Martha, Billy Stubbs has been picking his scabs and Eric Whalley's oozing all over his sheets – chicken pox on top of everything else," she said to nobody in particular, and then her eyes fell upon Dumbledore and she stopped dead in her tracks looking astonished as if a giraffe had just crossed the threshold.
"Good afternoon," said Dumbledore, holding out his hand, his voice deep and smooth.
Mrs. Cole simply gaped.
"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I sent you a letter requesting an appointment and you very kindly invited me here today."
Mrs. Cole blinked slowly, and Harry noticed the tip of the younger Dumbledore's wand protruding from the cuff of his jacket, into the hand that was extended towards the matron. Shaking her head slightly, she said feebly, "Oh, yes. Well – well, then – you'd better come into my room. Yes."
She led Dumbledore into a small room, that seemed part sitting room, part office. It was as shabby as the hallway and the furniture was old and mismatched. She invited Dumbledore to sit on a rickety old chair and seated herself behind a cluttered desk eyeing him nervously.
Dumbledore explained that he was the representative from a school that had a place for one Tom Riddle and when Mrs. Cole demonstrated that she had an inconveniently sharp mind questioning how the boy could have received a scholarship that he had not applied for Dumbledore's wand made another appearance.
With eyes that had slipped out of focus, Mrs. Cole smiled dumbly and said, "Oh well that all seems in order then," and her eyes found their focus again on a bottle of gin sitting on her desk that had certainly not been present a moment before.
"Er – may I offer you a glass of gin?" she said in an extra-refined voice.
"Thank you very much," said Dumbledore beaming.
It soon became clear that Mrs. Cole was no novice to gin drinking. Pouring them both a generous measure, she drained her own glass in one. From there the pair engaged in a conversation about the behaviour of young Tom Riddle, in which Mrs. Cole perhaps revealed more then she had intended as she began babbling uncontrollably. She repeated the story Dumbledore had told of Riddle's birth and told of his mother's wishes that the boy should look like his father (which apparently, he did). She told tales of how the other children had picked on Tom, from the moment he could talk and how strange things sometimes happened when the boy was around especially if he was upset. Young Dumbledore frowned and wiggled his wand again. Other stories then passed the woman's lips of a how the young boy, no more than five, scared the other children, a child's pet hung from the rafters after Tom had been beaten by the rabbit's owner, and children returning traumatised from an outing by the sea. Children who the week before had disappeared with Tom behind the woodshed, he had returned limping and pale faced hours after the other two had emerged.
After this outpouring of information she stopped, staring at Dumbledore with a dead gaze, "I don't think many people will be sorry to see the back of him."
"You understand that we will not be keeping him permanently?" said Dumbledore, "He will have to return here, at the very least, every summer." Harry felt sick at the callous tone with which the Headmaster spoke.
"Oh well, that's better than a whack in the nose with a rusty poker," said Mrs. Cole with a slight hiccough. She rose steadily to her feet, and Harry was mildly impressed, certain that Uncle Vernon would not have been so stable after consuming the same volume of alcohol. "I suppose you'd like to see him?" Gone was the kind but harassed persona replaced with something harder and more sharp.
She led them from her office and up the stone stairs, calling out instructions and admonitions to helpers and children as she passed. The orphans were all wearing the same kind of greyish tunic. The fleeting thought that they all looked better-cared for then he did, passed through Harry's mind but it disappeared before he had the chance to examine it.
"Here we are," said Mrs. Cole, as they turned off the second landing and stopped outside the first door in a long corridor. She knocked twice and entered.
Glancing round Harry's first thought was that the boy, this boy without a soul in the world to care for him, had his own room, a space in which he could hide away from the bullies if he wanted. Something Harry had only been granted once his Hogwarts letters had begun to arrive. If things had not changed for him since the arrival of Percival, he would have wished that he had been sent to an orphanage instead of the Dursley's. How often had he wished for someone to come and rescue him when in reality if Petunia and Vernon had just carried through with their threats, if orphanages still existed, he might have been better off. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Unlike the impression they had received from Mrs. Cole, who had left them in the room unsupervised, Tom appeared well mannered and quiet. He put aside the book he had been reading when they entered the room and listened to Dumbledore with rapt attention, though he was doubtful at first and attempted to use magic to make the younger version of the Headmaster tell him the truth. His excitement grew as Dumbledore continued his explanation and unlike Harry, he was much more willing to believe that he was a wizard, that he was special, though he still demanded a demonstration
Dumbledore drew his wand, pointed it at the shabby wardrobe that sat in the corner of the room and gave the wand a casual flick.
The wardrobe burst into flames, and Harry could almost feel Tom Riddle's pain as he saw his few possessions burn. Riddle rounded on Dumbledore, head whipping back to the closet as the flames vanished leaving the wardrobe completely undamaged. None of the Muggle raised student who Harry had talked too had said that McGonagall had used such a violent demonstration to prove magic existed, they mostly commented on her levitating coffee tables and having ornaments turn from crystal or porcelain into miniature real life versions of the animals they represented. Cases of strong disbelief were convinced when she transformed into a cat herself.
With his wand still pointed at the door of the robe Dumbledore told the pale faced orphan to retrieve a shaking and rattling box from the top shelf of the cupboard. The boy looked at it in fascination until, at Dumbledore's request, he removed the lid, and his jaw dropped in shock.
"Is there anything in that box that you ought not to have?" asked Dumbledore.
Riddle threw Dumbledore a long, clear, calculating look.
"Yes," he said finally, in an expressionless voice.
He gestured for Tom to empty the box, he tipped it out onto his bed, once empty the box stopped shaking. Harry looked at the mess of small, everyday objects; a yo-yo, a silver thimble and a tarnished mouth-organ among them. There was nothing apparently special about any of them, except that each belonged to a child who had very few things to call their own.
"You will return them to their owners with your apologies," said Dumbledore with a sharp smile, putting away his wand. "I shall know when it has been done." His eyes twinkled.
Riddle was staring coldly and appraisingly at Dumbledore. At last, he said in a colourless voice, "Yes, sir."
Finally, Dumbledore gave Tom a pouch of Galleons and instructions on how to reach Diagon Alley along with his Hogwarts letter. Harry noticed that like Hagrid, Dumbledore failed to give the boy instructions on how to find the platform for the train.
Just as Dumbledore was about to leave Tom blurted out, "I can speak to snakes. I found out when we've been to the country on trips – they find me, they whisper to me. Is that normal for a wizard?"
"It is unusual," said Dumbledore, after a moment's hesitation, "but not unheard of."
His tone was casual, but his eyes moved curiously over Riddle's face. They stood for a moment man and boy staring at each other.
"Goodbye, Tom, I shall see you at Hogwarts."
"I think that will do," said the white-haired Dumbledore at Harry's, and seconds later they were soaring weightlessly through darkness once more, before landing squarely in the present-day office.
"Sit down," Dumbledore said.
Harry obeyed, feeling sluggish and weighed down by the knot that now sat like lead in his stomach.
"You told me that you didn't believe Hagrid when he first told you," Hermione commented.
"No," Harry shook his head numbly.
"He already believed he was special. I wonder what he did to those other children?"
"Those poor children," Harry murmured. 'Poor Tom' the thought dashed through his mind.
"Did you know – then?" Hermione asked the Headmaster curiously.
"Did I know that I had just met the most dangerous and dark wizard of all time?" said Dumbledore gravely. "No, I had no idea that he was to grow up and be what he is. However, I was certainly intrigued by him. I returned to Hogwarts intending to keep an eye upon him. His powers as you heard, were surprisingly well-developed for such a young wizard and – most interestingly – he had already discovered that he had some measure of control over them and begun to use them consciously. Few of those who are raised in the muggle world do this so young. Your mother," Dumbledore said with a nod at Harry, "and you yourself," he turned his gaze to Hermione," are the only others I can think of in recent history."
Hermione drew herself up proudly while Harry remembered the times he had been locked in his cupboard and made a ball of light so that he could read a book pinched from the library but kept his silence.
"Time is making fools of us again," said Dumbledore, "but before we part, I want to draw your attention to Tom's belief that he was special, and how willing he was already to go off on his own. It was only a few short years of that conversation that he created the mask of 'Lord Voldemort' behind which he has hidden for so long. Also note that regardless of the claims of his Death Eaters that they have his confidence, they are deluding themselves as Lord Voldemort has never had a friend, nor do I believe he has ever wanted one. Now as then he prefers to operate alone. And lastly, you saw the box of stolen articles he had hidden in his room. These were taken from victims of his bullying. Souvenirs, if you will of particularly unpleasant bits of magic. Bear in mind this magpie-like tendency, for this, particularly, will be important for later. Now off to bed Harry, Hermione just a word before you leave."
Dumbledore watched Harry stand and make his way to the door, stumbling slightly as he passed the threshold.
"It was a good first effort, though you need to learn better control. A little is enough, a suggestion nothing more. You will need to guide him until the initial affect has subsided otherwise it will be obvious that something has happened to the boy."
Hermione bobbed a curtsey with a quick "Yes, sir," and hastened to follow Harry out of the door.
-o0o-
Sitting at his desk marking papers Severus Snape was unaware of exactly how late it had gotten. Setting the final piece of parchment to the side carefully so his red-inked comments did not smudge, he sat up and stretched his shoulders. Moving to the door he opened it, the room beyond was empty and dark. Where was that infernal boy! Surely Dumbledore had finished with them by now.
With some consternation he made his way to the fireplace. "Grimmauld Place! Sirius Black!" he called as he threw a pinch of powder in.
"Severus, shouldn't you be in bed? You have students to chase tomorrow. If you're too tired, you'll never catch them and then who will clean your cauldrons?"
"Your godson that's who!"
"Harry! What did he do this time?"
"He had a meeting with Dumbledore and he hasn't shown up!"
"Hang on, I'll try him on the mirror."
Sirius's head disappeared from the fireplace for several minutes.
"No answer," Sirius said with a frown when he re-appeared.
"He promised to come down afterwards," Severus hissed.
"Is there anything we can do now?" Sirius asked.
"No, just …" Severus was unable to verbalise the unease that he felt.
"Can you go and check on him?"
"Not without giving Minerva a reason, and the Headmaster would also be alerted when I passed the portrait."
"Well then there is nothing for it, we will have to wait until morning, pull him aside before breakfast and check on him then."
"Try the mirror again."
"Alright," Sirius disappeared again.
-o0o-
"Harry! Wait up, Harry!" Hermione called as she took off after the boy.
The dark-hair boy was ambling up the corridor, turning when his arm was grabbed at the elbow, "Hmmm?" he asked vaguely, his eyes unfocused behind his glasses.
Dumbledore had been right, there was no way she could allow him to return to the common room in this state, Percival was far to observant.
"How about we stop by the kitchens on the way, hmm?" she began pulling him down the corridor, leading him away from the tower. "You boys are always hungry."
"Oh Hurry up!," Hermione grunted, as she tugged on his arm again.
Harry had stopped to stare at a portrait, as he had done with the twelve previous ones. "But 'ermione, it moves, it moooooves." Harry giggled as the portrait of a young woman sitting at a writing desk waved back at him. "Oh, I think she likes me!"
"I can't see why? You're a pain in the arse!" Hermione snapped.
"Arse, arssssssse," Harry repeated seemingly amused by the word.
"Anyone would think you were stoned! Not bewitched!" Hermione grumbled. Clearly it was because she was such a strong witch and needed to learn to temper her power better. "Not much further now, wouldn't you like some lovely cake?"
"Cake, schmake, bake, steak, lake …" Harry replied.
"Perhaps Dobby will be there," she tried again.
"Dobby's here?" Harry looked around blinking myopically. "But he's busy, and can't be interrupted," Harry said.
"What's he doing?" Hermione asked, wondering when Harry had had the chance to find Dobby, whom she knew, having been told by Dumbledore the previous year, was working at Hogwarts.
"What's he doing?" Harry asked with another giggle. "Shhhh," he covered his lips with a finger and blew, covering Hermione in a shower of spit, "It'sa secret, he's … cleaning!" Harry burst into wild laughter.
"Dear Merlin help me!" Hermione groaned, and grabbed Harry by the arm again, to pull him along to the kitchens.
-o0o-
Harry was late, he had had a bad feeling about going to see Dumbledore and they had all ignored him. Now he was late! Percival paced the common room anxiously.
"Calm down Percival, he might have decided to stop by the kitchens before he came back," Ron said.
"Or it could have run long, you know how Hermione is with asking questions and I don't think she's back yet either," Neville added. "Come to think of it, she got back before him last time because he went to see Snape. Perhaps he's in the dungeons."
Snape, yes that was where Harry would have gone, he would have gone to see Severus to get himself checked before coming back, so there was no need to worry. It was all very logical, unfortunately, Percival, like Harry earlier that evening, could not shake the feeling that something just was not right.
"I'm done here," Ron carefully rolling up his latest assignment.
"Me too," Neville said, shaking out the cramps in his hand.
"Tell you what," Ron said to Percival, "Let's head up and get changed, if Harry hasn't appeared by then, we'll dig out the map and his cloak and go and find him."
Stifling his worry Percival followed them up the staircase.
Ten minutes later a pyjama clad Ron, was looking around the room in some consternation, "What's making that buzzing sound?"
"What buzzing sound?" Neville asked from where he sat on his bed.
"Can't hear a thing," Dean shook the water out of his ears from his shower.
"No, I … can… hear it too," Percival stepped closer to Harry's bed. "It's right … here!"
Percival moved Harry's pillow to reveal a hand mirror that was vibrating violently.
Quietly to Ron, so as to not disturb the boys on the other side of the room Percival said, "He must have fallen asleep talking to Sirius last night."
As soon as Percival said the name the reflection in the mirror changed to reveal the dog animagus.
"Harry!"
"No, just me," Percival said peering into the mirror.
"Where's Harry, Sev's worried he hasn't been by after his meeting."
Percival pulled a face, "He's not the only one, Harry isn't back yet. We were going to get the map …"
"He's in the kitchens," Ron pushed his way into Harry's bedspace, placing the map upon the bed, "and he's with Hermione! Where's his cloak, I'll go get him," Ron volunteered.
"No, I'll go ..."
"No. Neither of you will go. I'll get onto Severus, and he can go. Keep an eye on the map and if they don't meet up with him or you notice anything suspicious, then call me back. If I don't answer, then you can go."
"Alright," the boys agreed grudgingly.
-o0o-
A disillusionment charm in place, Severus Snape silently opened the door to the kitchens and snorted at the sight. Harry was conducting the house elves in an orchestra of food preparation. He folded pastry, then danced over to sprinkle something into a pot bubbling on the stove, then skipped over to where a short female elf was pouring what looked like steaming hot chocolate from an earthenware jug into large mugs and dumped a handful of marshmallows into each.
"We've got to have marshmallows 'Mione or it just isn't right. Dudders always had marshmallows, but I wasn't allowed, wasn't allowed the 'ot chocolate either," Harry babbled taking a large whiff of the jug. "Maybe a shake of cinnamon?" he suggested passing the jug back to the Elf.
The House Elves were bustling around and seemed to take Harry's interference in their work with good grace, simply stepping to the side when he approached their station and back into place when he bounded off to the next thing that had caught his attention. Hermione was sitting on a straight-backed chair in the corner, arms and legs folded and mouth pursed. Every now and then she clucked and loudly said 'Harry', in a disapproving tone of voice. She was being soundly ignored by all the other occupants of the kitchen and clearly was not happy about it.
"Miss Granger," Severus Snape said brusquely as he dropped the disillusionment.
Hermione jumped, nearly falling off her chair, with a squeak.
"Is there an explanation for this?" he gestured over to Harry who having taken a large slurp of chocolate had been left with a generous foam moustache that he was attempting to clear away with his tongue.
Hermione sucked in a shocked breath at the sudden appearance of her potion's professor, but gathered herself and said, "A mis-fired spell, sir. I think he did it to himself, I found him afterwards."
"Did you not both have a lesson with the Headmaster this evening?"
"Yes sir, but Professor Dumbledore held me back a moment afterwards, so Harry headed back by himself. When I found him in the corridor there was no-one else about."
"And he was …" Severus waved to where Harry was now, carefully folding a tea towel over some scones freshly pulled out of the oven, before racing over to plop a dollop of clotted cream into a bowl.
"It seems to have gotten a bit worse actually," Hermione said in some concern. There was no way that the spell she had cast had caused this. In fact, after half an hour it had appeared her spell had been wearing off so she had cast it again, concentrating on controlling her power better, to ensure that Harry would still do what she told him to.
Severus looked sternly at Harry, "Detention, tomorrow night, Mr Potter!" he snapped out.
"Sev, sevvy, sev'rus," Harry giggled as he noticed the Potion's Master and walked over to him. With a large sigh he placed his arms around the man's waist and rested his forehead against the man's sternum.
"Get your hands off me, Potter!" Severus put on his best affronted face and stepping back abruptly, causing Hermione to wince, while internally he thought Sirius would get a laugh out of the memory.
Harry's head drew back and his face fell, green eyes watered.
"That is enough!" Severus drew his wand ready to cast a diagnostic charm on the boy. "Sit down Potter!"
The affect was instantaneous, Harry's knees crumpled, and he sat, miraculously the house elves placed a chair behind him, before he could fall to the ground.
"I will take it from here, but before you go Miss Granger your detention will be Tuesday evening."
"I beg your pardon, my what?"
"I believe I enunciated quite clearly Miss Granger. Your detention! Tuesday!"
"But you can't Sir! I haven't done anything wrong!"
"Are you not out of your common room after curfew?" He raised a brow.
"I … I … but … Professor Dumbledore … our lesson!"
"Your lesson finished some time ago."
"But Harry …"
"Should have been taken directly to the hospital wing when you found him, leaving you plenty of time to return to your common room. The rules are clear Miss Granger, and as an ex-prefect," he took some delight in emphasising the 'ex', "I would expect you to know them, certainly you gave enough students detention for the same offence last year."
"But Harry hates the hospital wing, I thought bringing him here would be better for him. He seems to have been hit with some sort of babbling hex …"
"You are not a Medi-witch, and it is not up to you to decide what Mr Potter needs. Winky!" Severus said firmly, turning so that when the elf popped into existence she was blocked from Hermione's sight. He quickly transfigured her uniform to match the pillowcases worn by the Hogwarts elves. "Miss Granger has been caught doing things she should not," coal like eyes, flicked towards Harry. After a quick glance at her master's son, Winky returned Snapes steely gaze, seeing that the elf had caught his meaning, Severus continued, "I would like you to ensure that she goes directly to the Gryffindor tower and does not stop anywhere along the way. You are free to use your magic if required."
"Yes, Master Snape, Sir," Winky tucked one leg, behind the other and dropped into a curtsey. "Come Miss Grangy, off we go to bed." The elf moved around Severus and reached out to take the girl's hand.
"I am perfectly capable of finding my own way back!" Hermione protested snatching her hand away.
"I am sure you are however, it is my responsibility to ensure that you make it safely. Professor McGonagall would never forgive me I allowed one of her little Lions to become lost. As he requires more hands-on assistance, I will personally see to the delivery of Mr Potter …" Severus paused as Harry broke out into giggles again, muttering 'I'm a letter, stick a stamp on me!' "…to Madame Pomfrey, the house elf will have to do. Now off you go before I make it two detentions."
A disgruntled Hermione looked set to argue again but Winky snapped her fingers, turning the girl towards the door against her will. Seeing no other option Hermione proceeded through it. Once outside she tried to order Winky to take her to the Headmaster, whom she knew would over-rule the potions master, a technique which usually worked with the Hogwarts elves, but Winky just stared at her and pointed a long finger up the corridor.
Watching the girl stomp out of the room Snape sighed, "What has she done to you?"
"Sev'rus?" Harry slurred, his voice sad. "Don' you like me anymore? What'd I do? Can' do anythin' righ' You all frowny!""
Severus bent over, using his thumb and index finger to lift Harry's drooping eyelids and peer into his eyes.
"You didn't do anything wrong you silly boy. Just sit still a moment," he raised his wand and finally cast the diagnostic spells that had been interrupted earlier. "These results just don't make sense. I don't know any spell that would do this! What spell did she cast on you?"
An odd hissing noise caused Severus to turn and glance around the kitchen, but the house elves seemed to have settled down, the dishes and cutlery were being polished and put away. The sound repeated annoyingly. It was coming from Harry's lips.
"Harry stop that! Why are you doing that?"
"Spellssssss," Harry repeated again with the 'S' emphasised.
"Spells?"
"Yep," Harry nodded emphatically.
"Oh, spells not spell," Severus frowned as he thought. "Right, up you get, we are off to see Madame Pomfrey."
"Ok," Harry said amiably.
Unfortunately, it was not as easy as that, the spells Hermione had used made Harry ridiculously distractible, and he would go tearing off up a corridor as quickly as you could say 'squirel', then Severus would have to chase him down. After three of these mad-capped escapes Severus simply levitated the boy, an experience Harry seemed to enjoy very much, if his aeroplane impersonations were anything to go by.
"Poppy!" Severus called pushing open the doors to hospital wing.
"Severus?" Madame Pomfrey emerged from a door at the back of the room, "Whatever's the matter?"
"It's Harry, he's had some sort of behaviour modifying spell cast on him, as best I can tell it was to make him more suggestable, but something else has been added since. He's highly distractable."
"Lethargic?"
"Definitely not."
"Nauseus?"
"Doesn't seem to be."
The Medi-witch thought for a moment, "Giggly, similar to someone who's drunk too much gillywater."
"Very similar."
"Probably two of the same spell then. Think of it like a head injury one is bad, but a second …"
"Compounds the injury exponentially."
"Indeed, instead of being susceptible to external suggestions, he is now responding to internal ones."
"So how do we fix it?"
Poppy faced Harry who was now sitting on the floor to the side of the bed and weaving his fingers in intricate patterns. She drew her wand and pointed it at him, "Finite," she said strongly.
The spell light washed over Harry's skin.
"Tickles," he said looking up at her giggling.
"Together?" Severus suggested.
"It's worth a try. After a count of three. One, two, three. Finite!"
Harry blinked owlishly at them, before flicking the leg of the bed and listening to the noise it made.
"Well, I suppose it was too much to ask for the answer to be that simple," Poppy huffed. Her shoes clacked against the floor as she hurried towards the door at the back of the room, returning moments later with a large tome. The next half hour consisted of her trying various counter spells, with little success.
Finally, she straightened with a sigh and waved her wand repeating the diagnostic. "Well, that's interesting," she mused. "It seems the spell has been broken, and yet his behaviours haven't changed."
"This is permanent?" Severus asked horrified.
"Unlikely, though I believe you can speed up the recovery process."
"How?"
"It's just a hunch, but I think this is partly a protective response. I won't ask if you have taught him Occlumency, the less I know the better. However, hypothetically speaking, if he had been taught it, it is possible that he could be hiding behind his shields, so that he could give the impression of the spell having done something but was not working properly. It would leave his body running without direction, responding to whatever stimuli was presented to it. Now I have no concerns about leaving him here alone, while I go and write up his chart."
As the Mediwitch disappeared into her office, Severus Snape, gently clasped the boy's face, "Open your eyes Harry," the verdant eyes opened trustingly to meet his, "Legillimens."
Severus was immediately drawn in and was grateful he had been there before as he conjured a broom to halt his freefall. Unusually Harry was nowhere to be seen.
"Harry!"
The wind picked up and Severus was buffeted about as he tried to descend, ending up further south than where he thought the protections around the Horcrux were. A glint in the grass at his feet caught his attention and he reached down to pick up a polished shard of clear crystal, holding it up to the sun, he caught a movement its depths. Peering into it he watched a snippet of a memory, cursing the girl as she attempted to cast a curse on Harry.
Glancing around a short distance a flash revealed another shard, this one contained no memory just the feeling that something was not right, an uneasiness.
Another held anger.
The next, held the memory of Harry opening the door to the Headmaster's office, and Hermione sitting back in her chair wand in hand.
Looking up from the grass, he saw he had been led to a steel door imbedded into a grass covered mound, perhaps it was a bunker of sorts. It so perfectly blended into the surrounding landscape he had not even noticed it until he had collected the last memory shard. Severus raised his hand to knock but the door swung open before his fist touched it.
"Harry?" Severus peered into the room. It was nearly a replica of Hagrid's one roomed hut. Completely circular but divided into a space for sleeping, eating and the final area housing a couple of chairs. This was where Harry was, seemingly completely engrossed in reading the large tome that was balanced upon his knees.
"Oh!" he looked up startled, then smiled, "I knew you'd get it!"
"I should be grateful it wasn't breadcrumbs shouldn't I," Severus said.
"Pft, everyone knows the birds eat the breadcrumbs," Harry smiled.
"So why here?"
"I kind of got stuck and seeing as I didn't know how long I would be here; I didn't want to be too close to the – you know – in case I drew his attention."
"Well done, are you ready to get out of here?"
"Yeah, as peaceful as it is. I don't think it would be wise to stay too long. Will we be able to talk?"
"Hmm, depends what about. Madame Pomfrey has left us alone, but she won't be gone long."
"What should we do? I mean I saw Granger cast the second spell, but I don't know who cast the first."
"I believe it was also Miss Granger, she never completely put her wand away once you entered the Headmaster's office."
"So do I accuse her of it, or do we let it go? I'm getting tired of her getting away with things," he confessed.
"As it stands, a complaint will merely see it swept under the rug, however if we send your memory to Addison for verification, he can pass it on to Sam, and note it with Madame Bones. The evidence will be there later."
"Yeah, perhaps Addison could let the Mind Healer Granger is seeing know."
"A good thought. Is there anything else from the meeting that you needed to talk to me about."
"Apart from wondering how Dumbledore got hold of the memories, and why he seems so sure of his version of events?" Harry tipped his head to the side as he considered, "It was odd, Riddle didn't act the same as he does now."
"Everyone changes as they grow up, Harry."
"Yeah, but I think it was more than that. Sure, he was more willing to believe in magic then I was, but maybe that's because Petunia and Vernon, punished any mention of it, rather than anything else. How else would you explain the things that happen?" Harry shrugged. "What got me the most was that he had his own room. There he was in an orphanage, and yet he had his own room, we walked past several rooms on the way to his and there were no more than four beds in each room, each one larger even then then my room at the Dursley's."
"What bothers you about that?" Severus asked his voice soft.
"Why? Why wasn't I worth it? Maybe if they had just taken me to an orphanage life might have been better for me."
"Do you really think there were no bullies there?"
"There's bullies everywhere, there were definitely bullies there," Harry said flatly. "Petunia and Vernon though, why wasn't I even worth a room in their house until they thought that the magical world was keeping tabs on them? Why was I only worth the scraps off the table and … and … the jobs that I could do! It ... it makes me angry sometimes, you know!"
"Yes, Harry, I do know," Severus said sombrely.
"I know I should be grateful, and I know Petunia has changed but still …" he growled in frustration. "I just wanted her to love me, and then the summer that Percival came, it seemed like she did, or does, but, then I remember how she used to treat me, how she used to let Vernon and Dudley treat me."
"It's ok to be angry Harry," Severus said firmly. "It's ok to be angry, disappointed, sad and even conflicted. Your feelings are valid. Just because you might choose to forgive her, does not mean that you automatically forget what she did, or that it doesn't hurt any more. It just gives you a place to start healing from. It took me a very long time to realise that."
Harry looked at him doubtfully.
"Do you think that I would be talking to the wretched mutt so civilly, if I had not?" he raised an eyebrow. "It will take time, for the memories to die down, for trust to develop between you. You may wake up one day and discover that you no longer feel pain at the memories anymore, it is also ok if you do not. It is perhaps more devastating because Petunia was supposed to love you, Lily certainly would have if the situation had been reversed. And she was an adult, you a mere child. You have such a forgiving nature, you have forgiven, Ron, myself, the mutt …"
"But that's 'cause I understand. I get it you know, how easy it was for you to take the blame out on a child, especially one that looked like your childhood bully and the person who stole your best friend. I kind of get that Ron, just wants to be noticed and I understand how easy it is to be swept away by anger. But I just don't understand why aunt Petunia didn't love me."
"I think," Severus looked like he had swallowed a very bitter pill, "that Petunia and I, in some ways are similar. We share guilt, she felt guilty about the way that she treated your mother in the last years of her life, and then there you are with those same eyes staring up at her. How much easier was it for her to push you away, rather than face the discomfort of her grief and guilt? Not that it in anyway excuses her behaviour."
"Thank you," Harry said quietly.
"Was there anything else?" Severus prompted after a pause,
"When Dumbledore was in Riddle's room, he pulled a box out of the cupboard. Riddle seemed surprised. Dumbledore made a point of stating that he was collecting mementos, which seemed odd. Then he, Riddle, waited to the very end of the conversation, in fact Dumbledore was about to leave before mentioning that he could speak to snakes, like he was afraid."
"I cannot imagine how the ability would be taken in the muggle world Harry, especially in that time. It is possible that the matron or the other children may have thought him possessed or something,"
"That's another odd thing, I think that Dumbledore did something to the matron."
"It was only a memory Harry, nothing he did could have affected her."
"No, the Dumbledore from the memory, she changed," he tried to explain. "At first she seemed to care about the children. I mean she was busy, and stressed, but she seemed to care, then by the end she had become, I guess harsh, sharper, more rigid."
"It is possible, I will view the memory as soon as I can and we will compare notes, I might see something that you missed. Was there anything else you noticed?"
Harry nodded, "Riddle seemed very cautious of Dumbledore and turned down his offer of assistance with shopping, which Dumbledore appeared disappointed by. Actually, it was a bit weird how interested he was in Tom. I think I would be a bit worried if he showed that mount of interest in me," Harry paused and gulped, "He does though, doesn't he."
"Unfortunately so," Severus nodded.
"He also never told Riddle how to get to the platform, just like me. It's like he wants me to see the similarities between us."
"I agree. I feel this might be part of his plan, so that in the end he can show everyone how similar you are."
"And say that I have become a Dark Lord. We suspected he had done the same thing to Riddle. I need to finish reading the diary, but that's no use as evidence if I am the only one who can read it."
Severus actually looked amused, "Harry do you truly think you are the only Parslemouth in the world apart from Riddle?"
"Um, according to the British magical community yes, but if I think about it logically, probably not."
"Exactly at the very least, there are some in the United States, Isolt Sayer, who was a descendent of Salazar Slytherin, migrated there so her descendants might have the ability. In fact, they might like to have a copy of the book as it was started by their forefather. Now we had better return before we start to worry Madam Pomfrey."
-o0o-