"ɴᴏᴡ, ɴᴏᴡ ᴍʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɴ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ." ― ᴠᴏʟᴛᴀɪʀᴇ
Chapter Fourteen: The Darkest Art
Duelling Club, as usual, was well attended. Remus Lupin, the werewolf librarian, looked rather healthy for once (it was a new moon) as he watched the students file in.
"I can't believe I let you drag me out of Art Club for this," Parvati groused as she, Lavender, Daphne, and Ruby picked their way through the already-gathered crowd of students.
"He's teaching Patronuses," said Ruby excitedly. Of course, she had no expectation of actually casting one successfully, but it sounded so useful and interesting that it was impossible to pass up.
Standing on her tiptoes, she surveyed the crowd, picking out Anthony's dirty-blonde head amongst the sea of students, then began to make her way towards him. It was with an uneasy turn of her stomach that she realised people were stepping out of her way.
They still think I did the poisonings.
Daphne sniffed haughtily as she followed Ruby. "Lupin can cast a Patronus?"
The lights flickered in the hall, indicating the demonstration was about to begin. Darkness fell in the audience, spotlighting the three figures on the low stage. Anthony offered Ruby a small smile as she came to stand next to him, one of the corners of his mouth pulling slightly higher than the other. For some reason, it made her feel cold and shuddery and made her smile, in return, feel oddly mechanical.
Before she could ruminate, however, Remus cleared his throat.
"Good evening, students," said Remus in his usual measured tone, surveying the crowd. "Professor Snape, Professor Gloucester, and I have arranged a demonstration of the Patronus Charm for you. Given the... situation, it's been highly requested."
There was an air of disquiet in the room.
"As you may be aware," Sirius continued, "the Patronus Charm is very advanced magic, due to its esoteric nature, far above Ordinary Wizarding Levels. The purpose of the charm is to summon a guardian from the world of spirits, which takes on a distinctive, silvery, transparent appearance in our world."
"Each Patronus, when fully formed, is unique to the witch or wizard who summons it," said Snape, drawing his voluminous black robes about him like a bat come to nest.
Ruby thought of Remus's silver wolf tossing Dementors aside with a shake of its head, of her mother's doe repelling their very presence, of Dumbledore's phoenix spreading light and warmth in the darkness.
"And a Patronus is conjured," Sirius added, "by focussing on a single happy memory. The wand movement is unimportant. The incantation is known in many languages as it is a universal cry for help from spirits who have passed across the veil. It is always translated as 'I await a guardian,' though most in the European world prefer the Latin..." He paused, cupping a hand to his ear.
From the audience came the chorus: "Expecto patronum!"
"Yes, that's right."
"Only saying an incantation and thinking of something happy?" whispered Lavender. "That's not so hard."
"Now," said Snape in a displeased tone, "before you all rush to try it, a caveat. I am sure you have heard tales of fearsome silver beasts running down Dementors. If, by some miracle, any of you actually manage to succeed at casting the charm, that is not the form it will take." He glowered at Sirius. "Gloucester?"
Sirius nodded, and the other two backed away. He shut his eyes briefly, appearing to focus on something.
"Expecto patronum!"
Just like the night of the battle at Hogwarts, a great silvery dome burst out of the tip of Sirius's wand, flowing like a waterfall and sparkling in the dim light of the Great Hall. The audience oohed and aahed at the sight, casting a warm, heart-lifting glow across the room.
Sirius dropped the spell and gestured at Remus, who, for some odd reason, shook his head.
"Will you show the students a corporeal one? Snape?" Sirius could not keep the animosity out of his voice, or perhaps he wasn't even trying to.
As expected, Snape swept forward, subtly shoving Sirius back, drawing his wand in a great circle and saying, in a softer voice than Ruby was expecting: "Expecto patronum!"
There was a flash of searing, blinding white light, and then something silvery and diaphanous burst from Snape's wand. Ruby gasped, taken aback. Her eyes widened in recognition.
That was her mother's silver doe, the doe that had banished the Dementors from Hogwarts and stared down Voldemort with her large, liquid eyes. Inexplicably, Snape's Patronus was that very same doe, or, at least, its twin, which was staring at her with a look of familiarity in its intelligent gaze.
The doe took a few cautious steps to the end of the stage, her hoofbeats ringing clear and musical like a bell. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby saw Colin Creevey raise his camera and snap a picture.
Parvati gasped. "Incredible that someone that sour can produce something that beautiful. I didn't even realise Snape had happy memories."
Nor did Ruby. But she was more concerned with the fact that Snape himself had said Patronuses were unique, and yet that was her mother's doe before her. How?
She watched, spellbound, as Snape dropped the conjuration and let the doe fade away.
"Now," said Remus, "besides raw power, the most important part of this spell is your state of mind. As you can imagine, it is very easy to think of happy memories surrounded by your friends in the Great Hall, and considerably harder when a despair-inducing, soul-sucking monster is hovering over your face. Learning to clear your mind is also a first defence against Dementors and other Dark creatures. For that reason, we're all going to have five minutes of absolute silence."
To punctuate this, he sat down on the platform, took a deep breath, and lowered his head.
For about two minutes, the only sounds in the Great Hall were breathing, with the occasional cough or shuffle. Ruby could hear Lavender and Anthony on either side of her, and, for some reason, she began to feel very self-conscious, trying to take quieter breaths.
Then, as was perhaps to be expected in a room full of bored teenagers, the sounds started. People started nudging each other, and then whispering, and then giggling, and then an enchanted paper bird sailed through the air and landed on top of Snape's head, triggering raucous laughter.
Snape, who had been previously in a meditative state, snapped awake, snatched the paper bird off his head, and disintegrated it into a pile of black ashes. Anthony stifled a laugh, and Daphne scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"The next student to perform a foolish prank will face a very unpleasant detention. Time, Lupin?"
"Still two minutes on the clock."
The silence resumed.
Ruby wasn't sure what a clear mind felt like. As soon as she tried to stop actively thinking about what was going on around her, her brain seemed to fill with suppressed worries that had been bubbling under the surface.
For some reason, she could not help but think of her encounter with Tee outside the Great Hall, of the locket from the Cave around his neck, of how agitated he'd been when she'd brought up Horcruxes. And how Sirius had seemed to recognise the word, what Regulus Black said was pure evil.
It's just an ordinary locket. A necklace. A trinket.
An ordinary locket, like how the diary was an ordinary book?
"I see a locket...It's got a snake on it, but it's moving. It's eating itself. There's something wrong with it."
She had seen it herself in the Divination final, if she could trust her visions. Horcrux. She whispered it in the second vision, with Tee in the hallway, with the strange, older Riddle.
Horcrux.
"Alright, that's time," called Remus, getting to his feet. Instantly, a murmur of conversation began to flow over the crowd. "Last twenty minutes, as usual, is free practice time. The professors and I will be walking around to assess technique and answer questions."
Even before they had left the platform, Daphne had her wand out and was saying, under her breath, "Expecto patronum, expecto patronum, expecto patronum" to no effect. Lavender and Parvati were discussing whether or not you could use hair-straightening charms in a duel. Anthony was looking at the ceiling with an expression of great concentration.
Ruby, for her part, was trying to think of a particularly happy memory that wasn't tinged by some overarching dark spectre. Across the room, a puff of silver smoke had just emanated from the tip of Harry's wand to his shock (and that of everyone around him). Dare she say, Hermione looked slightly miffed.
Sirius was approaching. It probably wasn't the best venue to ask about Horcruxes, unfortunately.
Beside her, Daphne had stopped casting.
"Pretty hard, isn't it?"
Daphne sniffled. "I was thinking about Tracey — she always used to eat sweets in bed without brushing her teeth after, even though I'd swear she was going to ruin her enamel — and then I remembered, she— she's gone. You know, sometimes..." She lowered her voice and glanced sideways at Ruby. "Sometimes I feel like I won't ever have another happy memory."
"Of course you will," said Ruby reflexively, although she did understand the sentiment, comforting people had never been her strong suit.
"You know," said Sirius, startling them all, "you don't have to think of a happy memory. You can also think of what could be. What should be. I— I think of my dearest friends, as we were before the war, alive and whole."
"If Tracey were here—" Daphne laughed uneasily "—if Tracey were here, she'd probably think she was above all of this and make some sarcastic comment. And, and I'd laugh. We'd probably sneak out."
"I'll have to admit I did a lot of sneaking out as a student myself," said Sirius.
"Oh?" asked Ruby, feigning surprise. "I'd never have thought, Professor Gloucester."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, giving her a contemptuous look before moving on to the next group of students.
Ruby supposed she'd better get some practice while she was here, but what should she think of? She thought at first of the night she and Harry had been reunited, but that had been during the attack on Hogwarts.
Oh — but recently, her friends had forgiven her. What about that? She tried to think of the Gryffindor dormitory, but her mind kept getting drawn back to her conversation with Anthony prior to that, of his earnest, open expression and his eyes scrunching up when he smiled.
Her own eyes snapped open, and she glanced at Anthony, who seemed to be standing closer to her than before, embarrassed. He pointed his wand in the vague direction of the stage, and spoke the incantation.
Nothing happened.
"Oh," said Anthony, his face falling. "I thought I had it."
He looked back at her again and the cold-shuddery feeling was back. Ruby wished he would stop doing that and then felt strangely miffed when he turned away again.
Anthony turned back to her again, a little hesitantly. Why did everything feel so off? Had he not really forgiven her? Honestly, she could understand if he hadn't.
"Um, some of us are playing cards in the Ravenclaw common room later, want to come?"
"That sounds fun!" said Lavender, reappearing behind Ruby along with Parvati. "Let's go — coming, Ruby?"
"Yeah, coming," said Ruby, hanging back. Sirius was still correcting a third-year's duelling posture.
"Harry!" she hissed as he, Ron, and Hermione walked by, grabbing a fistful of his robes and tugging on them. He stumbled back, and took a double take. Attempting to be discreet, she pointed at Sirius.
"I think we should ask him about the Horcrux," said Ruby under her breath.
Harry's eyes narrowed. "About the Horcrux? If Dumbledore wouldn't tell you, why would Sirius?"
"Well, he might, did you think of that? And keep your voice down!"
The Great Hall was empty; during their bickering, Sirius had left. Harry and Ruby tore out of the hall, Sirius's dark-purple-cloaked shoulders just visible above a crowd of younger students trailing him and pestering him with questions.
We'll never get him alone, now!
To their luck, Sirius soon managed to shoo the students off. But another wrinkle emerged.
"Hang on," said Harry. "Isn't that the way to Dumbledore's office?"
"Do you think..."
"Only one way to find out." Harry reached deep into his bag, drew out a large bolt of silvery fabric — the Invisibilty Cloak — and tossed it over both of them.
This was, of course, not a sensible idea, but then, neither of them had been prone to sensibility (especially not when there were secrets involved).
They tiptoed after Sirius (the Cloak did not muffle footsteps) and slunk behind the opening once the gargoyle leapt aside to allow him to pass, then followed him up the stairs. Fortunately, Sirius looked too preoccupied to realise that someone else was on the stairs.
Sirius strode into the office, flinging the oak doors wide open, and Harry and Ruby scrambled through them before they swung closed again, then started looking around for somewhere to stand that would be sufficiently out of the way to avoid being stepped on or overheard whispering.
"Professor, you called for me?" asked Sirius, stretching before he sat down. Professor McGonagall looked up in surprise; Professor Dumbledore merely looked pensive.
"Yes, Sirius," said Dumbledore, steepling his fingers. "What you mentioned earlier is indeed concerning."
What was he talking about?
"I mean, of course, the prospect of Voldemort having a Horcrux."
For some reason, both Professor McGonagall and Sirius seemed to shudder at the word.
"Or, should I say..." Dumbledore looked grim. "Horcruxes."
"That's impossible!" Sirius spluttered. "More than one? The obscurity aside, who'd be desperate enough to do that more than once?"
They're talking about Horcruxes! Now, we're getting somewhere!
McGonagall leaned forward, her expression flinched. "That is impossible, isn't it, Professor Dumbledore? More than one Horcrux? It would be destabilising to the fabric of the creator's being."
Sighing, Dumbledore lifted his head, stroking his snowy beard.
"It would not be an ideal experiment for the risk-averse. Tampering with the deepest mysteries, of course, incurs severe consequences. But impossible... perhaps not. Worth it, even for the desperate. The process, after all, leaves the mind and body intact, stripping away only the soul."
A grave, still silence fell over the room.
"I still don't understand," said Harry under his breath. "What's a Horcrux?"
Ruby shook her head and then realised he couldn't see her.
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "The locket from the cave; Ruby Potter told you it was Slytherin's?"
"She did indeed," said Sirius.
"And that your brother believed it to be a Horcrux?"
"Yes."
"And it is currently in the possession of Tom Riddle?"
"Ruby said he took it and wears it around his neck."
"And then," said Dumbledore, "there is the curious matter of the nature of Riddle's diary, and by extension, Tom himself, which, by his own admission, was an act of desperation. He sat in that very chair you do now, Minerva, and I saw it in his eyes. Soul damage, the kind only prolonged exposure to Dark magic causes. I have what I think is strong reason to suspect he is, at least, Horcrux-adjacent."
"Then we must confiscate the locket and destroy it at all costs," said Professor McGonagall, a steely glint in her eye. "And, as for the boy?"
"It depends whether we believe he is a person or truly a Horcrux."
McGonagall nodded. "If he is a person, his soul is immortal and his body a vessel; if he is a Horcrux, his soul will be destroyed along with his body. So, in the latter case, we will be one step closer to defeating You-Know-Who, and in the former..."
"...In the former, we will be responsible for a senseless murder," Dumbledore finished.
"Hang on a second," said Sirius indignantly. "Have you forgotten he's Voldemort? Killing him wouldn't be senseless, it would be what he deserves!"
"So destroying Voldemort's Horcruxes makes him weaker?" asked Harry under his breath. "Are they both like him? Copies? Or is it only — only yours who's like that, and the other's just a locket?"
"Somehow I don't think the answer'll be in the library," Ruby whispered back. "And shhhh. They'll hear us."
Ruby couldn't see Harry under the cloak, but she thought he might be frowning at her.
"It's impossible to destroy Horcruxes," Sirius was saying. "That is, after all, the point."
A grim, wry smile had appeared on Dumbledore's face.
"Very difficult indeed, Sirius, but not impossible. Only the most potent, rare, and dangerous methods can be used for such a task. I daresay you are both familiar with Herpo the Foul, father of basilisks and creator of the first known Horcrux?"
The other two nodded.
"Well, a curious conjecture exists amongst those who immerse themselves in the theory of the Dark Arts. Can one of Herpo's creations destroy the other? That is to say, can basilisk venom destroy a Horcrux? Of course, basilisks and Horcruxes are both rare enough that the theory has been impossible to test. But now, we know both lurk in our castle."
Shuddering, Ruby remembered what the basilisk venom had done to Anthony, how the black rot had spread through his veins, slowed only by keeping him as near death as possible.
The room was silent for a while.
"But he is the only one who can control the basilisk, Professor Dumbledore," said McGonagall. "You are not suggesting that we let him unleash it?"
"Tom Riddle has already been to the Chamber of Secrets and spoken with the basilisk," said Dumbledore, his clinical gaze flicking between his former students. "He tricked Harry into sending him down. Riddle allowed me to inspect some of his memories after he failed to present himself one morning."
Both Sirius and McGonagall started in shock at Dumbledore's admission, leaping to their feet and beginning near-identical protests.
"Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect, this is madness to allow him to roam the corridors!" snapped McGonagall. "Who knows what he's been up to? Mark my words — he will cause catastrophe before the school year is out — perhaps he already has!"
Dumbledore said nothing but regarded her steadily.
"Oh. You think he can change." Her voice dripped with disdain and disgust. "He killed a girl in cold blood! He unleashed the basilisk on the school fifty years ago! He tormented the other children in the orphanage, he told me himself!"
"And he saved Harry Potter from certain death, and kept Ruby Potter safe and alive for a year."
"Professor Dumbledore, he hides his darkness well, but it has always been with him!"
"I have as much reason to hate Voldemort as you do, Minerva," said Dumbledore. "To hate Tom Riddle. But I cannot let that cloud my judgement, or else I will be no better than that which we struggle against. There is a reason he is here, even beyond his instrumentality in Harry Potter's survival two years ago, and I am waiting to find out what it is. I have told you before; we cannot afford to leave any stone unturned, or any potential weapon unused, for that matter." He gestured to the Muggle chessboard sitting on the righthand side of the desk, the marble pieces sparkling faintly in the dimming red light of late afternoon. "Even one's opponent's pieces can be used as agents of destruction against him, sometimes even unwittingly."
He's going to use... he's going to use Tee to get to himself. He can't. He won't do that. He can't possibly think Tee would cooperate. We have nothing over him. The incredulity she felt was mirrored on Sirius and McGonagall's faces.
"You cannot possibly be serious," said McGonagall, in the tone of someone who hopes the other person is joking, but all the same is resigned to believing steadfastly in their sincerity.
Sirius looked between McGonagall and Dumbledore, his eyebrows drawn tight over his forehead. "So, what do we do now?"
"First, we should locate the locket and confiscate it. We will need to use Tom Riddle to acquire basilisk venom." Dumbledore's intense gaze seemed to waver. "Then, we must find out if there are more."
Someone tugged on the end of her plait, and Ruby stifled a gasp of pain.
"What'd you do that for?" she whispered.
"Sirius is leaving. Let's go."
Indeed, he was getting up. Ruby felt around for Harry's shoulder, and together, they slipped behind the door before it swung closed behind Sirius, and then tiptoed down the stairs and out into the hallway.
Once Sirius was out of earshot, Harry tugged the Cloak off, the silvery fabric bunched in his hand. They were alone in the middle of the hallway for now, but the faraway sounds of feet and chatter told them that students were beginning to make their way to the Great Hall for dinner.
For her part, Ruby kept running the professors' conversation over and over again in her head. Tee, souls, the locket, Horcruxes. It was as if someone had dumped a box full of puzzle pieces into her head. It was all there, but she didn't know how to possibly begin to put it all together.
"Riddle," said Harry, very slowly and deliberately, turning to her. "He's looking for something."
Ruby turned to look at him now and saw him as if for the first time, suddenly struck, as Remus, Sirius, and even Aunt Petunia had been, by how he had exactly their mother's eyes.
Then, the thought came to her of Tee's strange appearance in the Slytherin common room.
"He is looking for something. He thought I had it. You don't think he lost it?" Ruby felt stupid as soon as she said it. That was ridiculous. If the locket were as important as Dumbledore seemed to think it was, Tee wouldn't have let it out of his sight. And besides, he wore it around his neck. It was nigh impossible to lose.
But you noticed he hasn't been wearing it recently.
"No," said Harry, folding up the Invisibility Cloak and stowing it in his bag. The sounds of feet and chatter were growing nearer. "I think someone stole it from him."
Taking in what Ruby imagined was an incredulous expression on her face, he continued: "The warning from Dobby; he said Voldemort wasn't working alone."
Ruby's heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. Her throat felt dry.
"Who?" she asked hoarsely.
Gazing into the distance, Harry just shrugged.
"I don't know, but I'm going to find out."
The entire Slytherin table looked up in surprise at Harry Potter's arrival. It wasn't as if there were any hard-and-fast rules against sitting at another House's table, Harry reflected. All the same, two rows of wary faces glowered at him as he approached, Ruby trailing him.
Someone got to their feet, breaking the tense, cold silence.
"Over here, Harry!" called Blaise Zabini, grinning from ear to ear. Beside him, Daphne Greengrass was regarding Harry with an empty stare.
They were the last Slytherins Harry suspected. Blaise was too... well, Blaise, and Daphne was, if Ruby could be believed, an obsessive rule-follower.
Still, trust no one.
And, as Blaise moved down so Harry could sit between him and Ruby, Harry wondered what the past nearly four years would have been like had the Sorting Hat had its way. Could he imagine himself at this table every night, sleeping under the lake in a dormitory with Blaise and Nott?
In his mind's eye, he saw himself travelling a different path. You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that.
Of course, he hadn't known anything — about the Parseltongue, about the Obscurus, about the prophecy... the Hat did though, didn't it?
Did he regret it? Did he wish he'd reached for the power to protect himself?
And would I have turned out like him? Like Riddle... Voldemort?
He glanced to his left. Ruby didn't. But she's not the one Voldemort marked.
"What brings you here, Harry?" asked Blaise cheerfully, jolting Harry back into the present. The sounds of the Great Hall came into focus, the ambient chatter once more filling Harry's surroundings.
Harry shook his head, scanning the table. He'd been so intimidated by the upper-year Slytherins in his first year when he'd been called into a conference room full of them, bursting with curiosity at the seams to know if Harry himself was a Dark Lord.
Now, he had his own reputation. The gaping hole in the third floor was hard to miss. Not that Harry liked it.
Both monsters... both feared, Riddle had said, his eyes alight with greed.
He wasn't even here, and he didn't need to use Legilimency to get into Harry's head.
"Inter-House unity," he answered Blaise, turning towards the boy on his right, who grinned, and said, in a grand manner, that he'd drink to that.
Blaise propped his head on his hand and gave the girl opposite him a winning smile. "Daph?"
Daphne Greengrass looked up tiredly. She was one of the prettiest girls in the year and, according to Ruby, was very vain, but Harry could see her friend's death had taken a great toll on her. Her face was unhealthy and sharp and hollowed out, dull like a sparrow.
"Yes, sounds good," said Daphne in a lethargic tone, seeming to look right through Harry.
"Where's Theo?" asked Ruby casually, lifting her fork to her mouth.
Theo, Harry noted. Not 'Nott' or even simply 'Theodore.' Something coiled tight and cold in his stomach. What's she playing at?
It had been a while, Harry reflected, since they'd spent time together. Maybe he'd been afraid of peeling away the new veneer of unfamiliarity between them and finding Tom Riddle staring back at him.
"Late," said Pansy from beside Daphne; she hadn't acknowledged either of the Potters earlier. "Isn't he always?"
"I don't know," Ruby answered, still in that same casual tone. Harry closed his eyes as she went on. "Isn't that pretty uncharitable, Pansy?"
His eyes flew open as he realised whom that pattern of deceptively casual speech belonged to. Not Riddle. Dumbledore.
Ruby cocked her head to the side, and the other girl glared.
It made sense, Harry reflected. They did spend a lot of time together; it would be strange if Dumbledore hadn't rubbed off on her a little bit.
If her Dumbledore impression can help us find the locket, I suppose it's useful.
They all looked up as Theodore Nott hurried into the Great Hall. If Greengrass looked ill, Nott looked like death. There was a grey cast to his skin, a glassy sheen to his eyes, and his hair was limp with grease, plastered to his forehead.
Maybe his conscience is finally eating him.
Ruby leaned her head on Harry's shoulder, startling him, and said: "Hi, Theodore," with a little, slightly threatening smile as an accent.
"Where've you been?" she tacked on in an innocent tone.
Meanwhile, Harry searched for a sparkle of gold around Theodore's neck. There was nothing that caught his eye, but then again, it could have been under his shirt.
"Just the library," said Nott acidly, reaching for piece of bread and tearing into it with his teeth, chewing noisily. Almost inhaling it, Harry thought. He knew that look in Theodore's eyes. Hunger. The hunger that had clawed at his stomach after a weekend locked in the cupboard, lying silent as everything in his body shut down and he wavered in and out of consciousness, huddled close to Ruby, less for warmth and more for comfort.
Harry forced himself not to dwell on it, choosing to focus instead on the steadying weight of her head resting on his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers, and, as if sensing his anxiety, Ruby rubbed his back gently.
The conversation lulled as Nott filled his plate to heights even Ron would never attempt and then started attacking the pile with a single-minded vigour.
"Merlin, Theodore, are you eating for two?" asked Blaise, making a neat cut into his lamb chop and elegantly lifting his fork to his mouth. "Congratulations, who's the father?"
His face flushed with embarrassment, Theodore slowly pushed his nearly empty plate away.
"If anyone should be stuffing their face," sniffed Pansy, "it's Blaise, he's the Quidditch player. How much exercise do you even get, maybe walking up the stairs once in a while?"
Theodore, who had been occupied with wiping his face with a napkin, finally seemed to focus on Harry. "Why are you here?" he asked.
He can't have stolen from Riddle, thought Harry. Theodore might be a nuisance, but Riddle was Voldemort, after all, and Ruby had told her just how powerful he was — he'd even felt it himself, the night of the attack, in McGonagall's office.
Unless Riddle gave it to him. Nott is Voldemort's, after all.
A thought came into Harry's head, an impulsive, fleeting idea. He flicked his wand under the table, covering his mouth with his hand, and whispered the incantation of a jinx from Sirius and Remus's Christmas present.
The tureen of soup between Nott and Daphne exploded in the former's direction, splashing the boy with scalding liquid and upsetting his bookbag.
Yes! That did it.
Harry slid off the bench and under the table, rifling through the spilt contents under the guise of replacing them. Library books, broken quills, and scraps of parchment filtered through Harry's hands, but no locket. He stood up on the other side of the table, startling Theodore.
"Here," said Harry, placing a hand on his wet collar, peering at it to see if the gold chain was visible under the now-transparent fabric. Nott shook, a quick, full-body shudder, studiously avoiding his gaze. Everyone was silent.
"I'll dry you off," Harry offered. "Here—"
In a clatter that sent more things sailing off the table, Nott swept to his feet, forcing Harry's hand from his shoulder, and stormed out of the room without looking at anyone.
The entire Slytherin table was staring now, and even Snape looked interested. Harry gulped.
He spun on his heel, too, and followed Nott out of the hall, jogging to catch him up before he disappeared around the next corner. With a pang of regret, Harry realised he'd forgotten the Invisibility Cloak. He focused on not losing sight of Nott, ducking under tapestries every so often to avoid detection.
They were heading towards the dungeons, which made sense because that was where the common room was, or so the rumours went. But as they went deeper and deeper into the school, Harry began to suspect Nott wasn't heading back to his common room for an after-dinner nap.
Down and down they went, far under the surface of the Black Lake, to where the air grew cold and stale and the corridors more and more convoluted. Yet, Nott did not stop or slow down.
I wonder if he knows where he's going. Has he got a map?
After what felt like at least a full fifteen minutes into the dungeons, Nott stopped.
He turned around, surveying the sparse and dimly-lit surroundings.
"Come out, Harry," he said, distaste in his tone.
So he had not been quiet enough to evade notice. Or maybe Nott wanted him to follow him all along.
This is not good, thought Harry, but he stepped out of his hiding place, anyway, wand at the ready. On the other hand, it might be an admission of guilt.
"Admit it, Nott," said Harry, gesturing widely and trying to sound less scared than he was. What if Nott had people waiting down here to ambush him? No one could hear them down here, and no one knew where they were. "You're working with Voldemort."
A nasty expression appeared on Nott's thin, rabbity face. "You're paranoid," he said, laughing.
Heat bloomed in Harry's face.
"Then explain what you're doing down here!"
He sincerely doubted that Nott could have an alternative explanation for lurking in the belly of the school other than nefarious misdeeds. After all, Ruby had said that the lower portions of dungeons were historically used by Slytherins with... unique magical interests, some of their often dangerous creations left behind in the abandoned rooms.
Under Harry's insistent gaze, Nott took a big, theatrical breath and sighed.
"Fine. If you really won't leave me alone, I'll show you."
Nott made a beckoning gesture, starting to walk backwards; Harry followed, but he didn't put his wand away.
After they had gone a few paces, Nott turned around and picked up speed, expertly navigating the corridors.
Where's he going? Harry hadn't even known that the dungeons extended this far. They had to be at least a mile under the lake by now.
A sickening feeling began to come over him.
No witnesses... What if Nott was planning to kill him down there?
Just as Harry assumed an offensive stance, a tall, shadowed figure, gliding like a Dementor, emerged from an alcove. Both boys froze.
Harry's scar stung, just a slight twinge of pain. The corridor filled with the unpleasant scent of tar, smoke and something herbal; Harry held his breath reflexively, and Nott sneezed.
"Dumbledore sent me," said Riddle imperiously, tossing his dark hair. "Harry, he wants to see you. You—" Here, he glowered at Nott, who, to Harry's great interest, was looking at him with a greedy glint in his eyes "—find somewhere else to be."
And, with that, he grabbed Harry by the scruff of his robes, and started hauling him up the corridor, the younger boy spluttering in indignation as he did so. Harry glared up at Riddle's impassive face, gripped his wrist, and wrenched his hand away.
"I can walk by myself," snapped Harry.
Riddle snorted and walked faster, forcing Harry to speed up too to match his long stride. He seemed to navigate his way through the depths of the school even more confidently than Nott did, though Harry supposed that wasn't surprising. He only wished Riddle would stop smoking; he smelled like a wet ashtray.
When they ascended halfway, and Riddle was staring regretfully at the stump cupped in his hand, Harry said before he could light another one: "Did Dumbledore really send you?"
A look of surprise passed across Riddle's face, but he quickly schooled his features into their usual impassiveness. "No, he didn't. How did you know?"
Because neither of us do what we're told. Harry simply shrugged.
"To tell the truth," said Riddle, "I don't trust him either."
"Who?"
"Nott, of course."
"So you do know him!"
Riddle scowled. "Can't you Potters ever keep your nose out of other people's business?"
Is Nott the common enemy? Harry wondered. But that doesn't make sense. Riddle and Nott would be... well... a snake hunting a mouse.
There's another piece in play; that's what Dobby meant. That's the common enemy Riddle was talking about.
He thought back to the conversation in Dumbledore's office. Harry cleared his throat. They were close to ground level, now, not in earshot of anyone, but close enough for Harry to make a run for it.
"Our common enemy, has it got to do with whoever stole Slytherin's Locket from you? About Horcruxes?"
Now, Riddle froze, his eyes wide in shock and his mouth slightly open. Harry tensed in fear, staring up at him.
He doesn't have a wand, he reminded himself. He can't hurt me, at least not very much.
All of a sudden, his head and his ears were ringing. For some reason, Harry had the thought lingering in his head, never look a Legilimens in the eyes.
"What?" asked Riddle in a snide tone, and Harry averted his gaze.
The older wizard was fumbling with another cigarette.
Harry, as more and more light flooded the corridor, wondered if he was somehow forgetting something.