Metanoia~ Tom Riddle

Chapter 33

Veruca had never felt so unsure in her life. The girl had gone even further back in time, just about 10 years previous to her visit with the young Tom Riddle, and she was quite weary.

She wasn't entirely sure where she was going, all she knew was that she was looking for a certain witch, bound to give birth. Veruca settled herself in an inn, once again, to collect herself and her thoughts.

She had to find Merope Gaunt... that would take some concentration. Figuring that finding the woman in question would be the first step, she situated herself cross-legged on the small single bed in the middle of the room.

A map of Little Hangleton was laid out in front of her, and she held a photograph of Tom in her hands. The difficulty with this was that the girl had to focus not on Tom but on his blood. She had to use her connection to her magic and to Tom, to trace his bloodline and their whereabouts to find his mother.

This took time and patience, Veruca sat still as a statue for over an hour concentrating on the thrumming of her magic and the warmth of Tom... the warmth of his blood. One hour and 26 minutes had passed and Veruca's eyes had glazed over.

She grabbed her stick of charcoal and blindly traced her hand over the map. Her hand weaved this way and that way, hovering just slightly above the map when it plunged and circled a location.

Veruca blinked her green eyes, opening them slowly to avoid becoming sick with the sudden light. After studying the map and deciding on the quickest route, Veruca wasted no time in rushing out the door.

*

Veruca unrolled a long scroll of parchment and studied the notes under the light of her lantern. She was certain she had made a mess of things, but she was determined to fix the one thing he had intended to fix all along. Tom.

She had found Merope and was currently watching the woman shiver under a ratted blanket. The witch was studying the mother-to-be carefully when she was hit with the startling reality of the matter she was facing. The fate of the wizarding world lay in her hands. She could either fail again, or she could stop everything in its place.

One spell was all it would take.

Veruca knew the spell, she had studied it well. Two flicks of her wrist and the world could be rid of Voldemort, forever. Instead of healing him in one timeline, she could just erase him from them all. The thought of using the forbidden spell was tempting and Veruca for once in her life was quite torn.

The girl had always prided herself on being decisive and clever, but she was never fully prepared for the task Dumbledore had given her. She realized a wave of sudden anger in her chest, anger towards Dumbledore, but it was gone in the same sudden instant. He was only a man, doing what he thought was best not for himself, but for the rest of the wizarding world.

The girl sighed and stood. Veruca wasn't as selfless as Dumbledore. She wasn't going to kill Merope to save the wizarding world, the act of murdering the defenseless would destroy her. She, like Dumbledore, would have to rely on the instinct and skill she had raised herself with.

And Tom Riddle would have to rely on the goodness of her heart.

Having made her decision, Veruca stepped forward, to the small, shivering woman and knelt down. They were in an alley, on the edge of town, and Veruca didn't want Merope sleeping on the ground any longer.

"Merope?" She gently nudged the woman's shoulder and called her name again, "Merope, wake up."

The pregnant witch stirred slightly and then jolted upright, turning and landing a smack to Veruca's face. Veruca clasped her hand to her cheek, the woman before her, though small and quite weak, had cold cold hands that had stung regardless of the strength they carried.

"Ow!" Veruca snapped, "Was that really necessary?"

Merope didn't look remorseful at all, instead, she looked angry, "Of course it was! Who the bloody hell are you?"

Veruca rubbed her slightly reddened cheek and stood, "I'm Veruca. I just wanted to offer you a warm place to stay."

Now Merope looked remorseful, "Oh."

Veruca shrugged out of her cloak and handed it to the woman, still sitting on the ground, "Here, you're still shivering."

Merope took the cloak, gratefully, and wrapped herself up tight, "Why're you helping me? And how do you know my name?"

"I recognized you," Veruca sighed, thinking through her lie as she spoke it out loud, "A friend of mine knew you once."

"Really? Who?"

Veruca reached a hand out to Merope and heaved the woman off the ground. Veruca shook her head at the shorter woman, "Nevermind that now, let's get going."

Veruca began leading Merope, like one would lead a toddler, to the inn she had rented from. Merope, the toddler in this instance, never stopped asking questions. Where are we going? Why's it so cold? Do you have any food? And other much more annoying questions that Veruca ignored.

When they came upon the inn, Veruca lead Merope to the kitchens and warmed up some leftover stew. After feeding the pregnant witch, Veruca lead her to the room she had rented and started up a bath.

Merope sat on the chair, beside the small table and looked over all of Veruca's scratch paper and parchment. She handed said much after being filled with warm stew, but now she had more questions. Veruca came out of the washroom and handed Merope a towel, "Careful, the water is hot."

Merope stood and took the towel from Veruca, "Really girl, why are you helping me? I don't even know you."

Veruca hesitated, then smiled warmly, "Consider me, a guardian fairy of sorts."

Merope looked like she wanted to ask more questions, so Veruca shushed her and nudged her towards the bath, "Go, or the water will get cold."