Author's note:
Hello beautiful humans,
I hope you're all doing great!
Here is a new chapter!
Thank you so much for following and favouring this story, for the support, it really means the world!
Ps: 'Mens sana in corpore sano' means 'a healthy mind in a healthy body' ;)
May 1943 - The Petrified
The incidents began on a rainy afternoon on May 1st. "The day after Walpurgis Night" would rightly point out Sophia a few weeks later. Most of the Ravenclaws were diligently preparing for the OWLs already, sitting down during the weekends wherever they could find a free spot to study: in their common room or in the Great Hall. Even on the park's benches, when the weather was mild and the library was packed.
Annabel had retreated inside her dorm with her friends, where they used to revise together, testing each other's knowledge on the sham blackboard they had created through gluing multiple parchments together. They were observing a precise study-schedule, organised by Margaret, and Saturday afternoons were dedicated to the study of Divination.
Violet was assessing their skills on dream interpretation, a chapter they all regarded as highly speculative but which they swotted anyway with the hope to score the best grades possible in all disciplines.
The girl began, a finger raised in the air, her dark eyes grazing at the textbook opened on her lap.
"If I dream of water…"
"It means you have to go to the loo" joked Elena, triggering a wave of hilarity among the girls.
"Can we get more context?" asked Margaret once the giggles stopped. The girl was lying on her bed, lazily playing with her Remembrall.
"Well, for instance, if I dream that I'm swimming in the sea, it means that…?" prompted Violet with a raised intonation, obviously trying to encourage her roommates to jump in.
"Is the type of water an important factor? What if I dream that I'm swimming in a lake instead?" queried Annabel but her genuine intervention made the others burst in laughter.
"You're going too far Anna. Keep it simple" snapped back Violet with her eyes rolled.
"She might have a point though. Doesn't the type of water stretch have a particular meaning?" questioned Eudora as she inspected the base of the chocolate frog's head she had just bitten off, holding the squirming body between two fingers to prevent the chocolate amphibian to escape her grip.
"Aaargh I hate Divination" grumbled Margaret who threw the Remembrall in the air forcibly.
The door slammed open, interrupting the girls' chatter. All heads turned to peek at the last member of their dorm who was noticeably out of breath. The girl ran towards her bed and nimbly seized her bag. She emptied its content on the floor with vigorous shakes.
Eudora gulped the content of her mouth and Violet lifted her eyes from her textbook. All exchanged a baffled glance before Sophia pierced the silence.
"For the love of Merlin has anyone of you seen the students record?!"
"There"
Elena pointed to Sophia's bedside table, where stood a carton folder which belonged to each years' prefects. It contained the personal information of all the students in their house, such as what kind of allergies they suffered from, or who to contact in case of emergency. The girls had already peered inside it a few times out of curiosity, to find out where their classmates lived or what were their second of third names…
The red-haired girl heaved a "thank you" before she grabbed the binder.
"What happened?" inquired Annabel with a frown as they all watched the Ravenclaw flip the pages in haste.
Seeing their friend in such a panic was unusual. Sophia was usually measured, despite her strong temperament, and the few occasions in which they could experience her wrath were usually whenever the Slytherins were involved. Annabel wondered what they did to generate that kind of hysteria in their friend this time…
"I don't know yet but it's apparently bad enough for the teachers to reunite all the prefects" mumbled the red-haired girl before she put the folder under her arm after seemingly finding whatever she was looking for.
She hurried back to the door and turned around on the threshold:
"Only walk through the main corridors tonight and stick together. And do not exit the common room after the curfew" she dictated with a menacing glance.
"I hope I'll see you at dinner" she quavered before she turned around and slammed the door shut behind her, disappearing in less time than it'd take her to say "Quidditch".
—
The stinging smell of disinfectant prickled the prefect's nostrils as he reached the infirmary. He hid his hands in his pockets, to conceal his slightly fidgeting fingers. He took a deep breath, to soothe the mixture of excitement and anguish that had gripped him the moment the Head Boy came to him at the library, telling him he was urgently needed inside the nurse's office.
Tom walked towards Slughorn, joining the cohort of the other Slytherin prefects who were already massed near the Potion Master. The latter turned around to greet him with a contrived haste: "You are all here, Merlin by praised. Thankfully this does not concern our house" he sighed in relief despite the stern glance Dumbledore shot him. The Transfiguration Professor caressed his beard with one hand, his many rings reverberating the few rays of sunlight that, at last, broke through the dark grey clouds outside.
Tom stood near his female counterpart, Avery's twin sister, to whom he asked in a whisper, his tone falsely genuine:
"What happened?"
From the corner of his eyes, he noticed the way Dumbledore darted him a few glances with a wrinkled brow. No matter what he did, that old gargoyle always seemed to look at him warily... Tom glanced around, observing the tormented face of the other professors, including Professor Wingly, the head of house of the blue and silvers whose stern features were reinforced by her alarmed state.
"A Ravenclaw has been found in the dungeons"
Tom's chest suddenly tightened, a nasty compression that made him struggle to breathe. He buttoned up the jacket of his uniform deftly, to give himself some composure. Calm down you idiot, he scolded himself as an attempt to dismiss the strange irrational fear that took a hold of him at the mention of the house the student belonged to.
He remembered the conversation he had had with his friends a few weeks back, late at night. He had informed them of the creature that lived in the lower storeys of the castle. That he, as the heir, could unleash the beast, have it do his bidding. He could "cleanse Hogwarts, get rid of the parasites that coward of Dippet was too scared to discard" had whispered Nott excitedly before Mulciber added, with a deranged chuckle that had had everyone shiver: "Now is time for revenge, now is time for blood to be shed". Tom had acquiesced, thrilled by the collective enthusiasm. Yet, once he had lied in bed, too agitated to actually find sleep, he had found Alastair staring at him in the darkness, whispering with a frown: "Are you absolutely certain the creature will only target the Muggle-born kids?" And Tom, initially irked at the thought that his friend was doubting his words, had finally understood the boy's concern. "She does not risk anything" he had reassured his friend as snippets of chestnut brown hair and grey eyes came to his mind.
Yet, in that very instant, Tom found himself hoping that he would not regret his previous assuredness.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by rushed footsteps that raised from the corridor. The Ravenclaw's prefect for the Fifth Years, the tall red-haired girl that was had been appointed instead of Annabel, skilfully stepped aside to avoid a bunch of nosy youngsters the nurse shooed away before she entered the room:
"Norris Clockwork" she stated in haste, her chest heaving.
"His… parents work for the Bank of England… at the Headquarters in London" she panted before she glanced inside the folder she had in hand and handed it to their Charms teacher.
"Did you mean Gringotts?" sneered the Seventh Year's prefect from Slytherin, thus triggering the contemptuous smiles of the other students from his house, to the exception of Tom, who kept a straight face, and he could only congratulate himself for his foreseeing when he saw Headmaster Dippet appear on the infirmary's threshold.
"Now is not the time for such spiteful allusions Mr. Bulstrode" he firmly scolded the last year's prefect.
"Be mindful of your words or I'll have to have Professor Slughorn take away points from your house"
The Slytherin apologised half-heartedly before the wizard turned to the school's matron.
"Do we know what happened to him?"
"He is petrified, Professor"
"Petrified?!"
Dippet gawked like an idiot after the nurse pulled the curtain, revealing a boy around twelve years old that lied on a hospital cot. Tom fell a wave of relief in his chest at the sight of the child.
His eyes wandered on the boy's round and hairless cheeks, on his turned-up nose that strikingly lacked elegance. The boy resembles a piglet, Tom thought as he believed he found on the rubicund face the evidence of the child's poor lineage, and he could not help but notice the sharp contrast with his friends' nobble figures, svelte and trimmed purebreds, all the more now that they all joined Rosier for his Quidditch training multiple times a week to stick to the motto Tom had hammered in their heads: Mens sana in corpore sano.
"He was standing in front of a mirror when a group of Third Years found him" added one the Gryffindor's prefects.
Tom suddenly acknowledged the shocked glances around him, the way that Hufflepuff girl began to sob. He noticed the hands covering the mouths, the horrified gasps. He composed a distressed look on his face promptly, to fit the decorum.
"Have you tried to cast the countering Body Freezing Spell?" asked Dippet to the school's matron with a strangled voice, who nodded before the Headmaster began to enunciate a list of various curses and jinxes that could have left the kid in such a poor state. His tone grew pressing as he was obviously running out of ideas until Dumbledore calmly chimed in:
"He is petrified Professor, we have to face it"
"This cannot be" dropped the Headmaster. "Only very few creatures have the power to petrify its victims. As far as I am aware, there is no Gorgon in school"
The prefect had to fight against the urge to let out a sardonic laugh.
Not a Gorgon, Professor, thought Tom.
A Basilisk.
—
Tom entered the Slytherins' common room in haste, disturbing the conversations that were kept to whispers between the scattered groups of students. Yet, his eyes only brushed past them, for he knew he would not find his friends here. That the common room, as intimate as it was, was not safe enough for what he intended to share with them.
He took the stairs two at a time, his heart racing. When he arrived in front of his dorm room, he took a second to close his eyes, to enjoy the secrecy the corridor's darkness provided. A delicious thrill ran down his spine as he recalled the time he had shared with his friends the incredible discovery he had made about his lineage last November. He remembered the devotion he had found in their eyes, their promise of unconditional support. Yet, he knew some did not believe him yet, that he needed to prove himself to a few in order to impose himself as their leader. Nott, particularly, had been giving him a hard time. But there he was now, all conquering, confident.
Tom lowered his face, propping himself on the doorframe, hands on each side of the door, feeling the coolness of the stone wall under his palms. He smiled and a shiver consumed him, exquisite. He took a deep breath before he finally seized the doorknob to enter his dorm.
Pairs of expectant eyes turned back to him. The room quietened, the tension at its height. They were all there.
"Ravenclaw" he dropped on the threshold.
"Second Year" he quickly added, his eyes settling on Rosier who closed his in relief.
The prefect lifted his chin and stared at the small crowd. A triumphant smile brightened his face as his eyes grazed at each and every one of his friends who almost trembled in expectation. He finally opened his mouth, ready to give them what they were all so impatient to hear:
"Muggle-Born"
There was a split second of silence before the cheer. A synchronised outcry that ran among the small group of Slytherins. The boys stood up, rushed towards the dark-haired young man. Dolohov, who was standing right next to the door pulled him in for a forceful embrace, patting him on the back before he was dragged out of the hug and hoisted in the air from the single mass of boys that came to him.
After a while of ecstatic shouts, Tom was brought back to his feet in the centre of the room, Walburga before him.
"My lord, thank you for guiding us into this new era. Thank you for making this world a better place" she declared before she kneeled in front of him, with an ease that betrayed the habit. And soon enough was Tom the only one standing, bent bodies all around, his power incontestable, unsurpassable.
—
When Annabel reached the Great Hall with her friends, she noticed the familiar tension that accompanied accidents, the confusion that transpired from the restless gestures and the anxious whispers. It was as if time had slowed, catching all newcomers in a collective trance, a shared frenzy. People were looking around them suspiciously, huddled up together.
The Ravenclaws spotted their friend at one end of the table. She was sitting alone, ramrod straight, staring into space. The girls sat around her and Annabel gently caressed her back.
Fear and confusion coming straight from Sophia bursted in Annabel's chest, with such unexpectedness that the latter felt the sudden urge to leave. She removed her hand from her friend's back with the hope it would somehow calm the gnawing feeling.
"What is going on?" whispered Violet as she leaned close.
"A student from our house had been found in the dungeons. Norris Clockwork, Second Year" she began.
"He was petrified" she added, staring at her hands under the table.
"No need to freak out, it's probably a stupid joke from one of the older students" hypothesised Margaret before she reached for the sautéed mushrooms.
"He's not paralysed Margaret. He is petrified" corrected Sophia with a black look.
"This is absurd. Only Gorgons and Basilisks can petrify people" murmured Annabel pensively as she served herself a spoonful of shepherd's pie.
All pairs of eyes suddenly turned to the entrance when a dozen Slytherins entered the Great Hall, their pace synchronised like a procession, Tom Riddle on the front like if guiding the others. Some green and silver kids slid on the bench to accommodate them, in such a haste that Sophia let out an ironic chuckle.
"Here they are, the sneaky snakes and their king. I am sure one of them has something to do with this" she spitted, her tone full of hatred.
Elena and Margaret exchanged a look before the latter answered, with a voice as soft as if she was talking to an unreasonable child:
"Sophia, sweetie, I understand that you're in shock but I don't think any student in Hogwarts has the power to do anything that terrible"
"Maybe it's one of the professors?" ventured Violet as she glanced at the main table.
Annabel stared at the Slytherins, absentmindedly listening to the conversation the girls were having. The Fifth-Year's prefect was smiling with an immoderate confidence, sitting casually on his chair next to a girl Annabel recognised as Walburga Black, who kept darting the dark-haired boy enamoured glances. Elena, as if she could read her thoughts, mumbled:
"I don't like her either… She acts like she's Hogwarts' queen bee"
"It's been worse since Riddle has been bringing her to the Prefects' bathroom" added Violet with an irked growl to that one potato which rolled on each other side of her plate each time she tried to prick it with her fork.
"If at least she was the only one… I can't even follow how many girls he brings up there. They're almost queuing up to get laid" dropped Sophia with disdain.
The words stung, strangely, at the evocation of the young man's many sweethearts. Annabel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, wishing to escape the conversation.
"I don't understand what they all find him" added the red-haired girl with a shake of her head.
"Come on Sophia, he's hot. I would not be the one refusing a date with Mr. perfect prefect" objected Margaret with a knowing smile.
Margaret's comment reminded Annabel of her last encounter with Tom, on Valentine's day. Once again, she had been putting up with him on that special day, to do things that were very far from anything romantic… She had only seen him in Herbology since then, between screaming Mandrakes and deadly wolfsbane. Yet, and despite that strange habit of hers to obviously confide in him about even the darkest and most embarrassing secrets she held, Annabel felt strangely at ease around him, as if the very fact that he too had shared something private with her rendered him suddenly much more approachable.
In that very moment, she saw Tom lift his glance and look straight at her. Her cheeks turned red, ashamed that he had caught her stare but she did not avert her gaze. She smiled, instead, a discrete and sheepish smile and she was surprised to see him raise his glass towards her, in greetings or in celebration.
What a surprising boy you are, Tom Riddle, she thought.