The Enemy of my Enemy

The Memory, Part II

He spoke the last three words with a ringing force that shook the whole room. Harry looked around, watching as dust fell from the rafters, disturbing the thin layer that was already occupying the desk and wardrobe in the room. He glanced at Teddie from the corner of his eye, the last time he had felt something as powerful as this was when she had unleashed her shield on Professor Umbridge, and three years ago in the Shrieking Shack.

Riddle's eyes widened slightly, and he glared at Dumbledore. But the younger Professor made no response except to keep smiling pleasantly. After a few seconds, Riddle stopped glaring and slumped in his seat, but he didn't relax, and he looked even more warier that previous.

"Who are you?"

"I have told you. My name is Professor Dumbledore and I work at a school called Hogwarts. I have come to offer you a place at my school - your new school, if you would like to come."

Suddenly, Riddle leapt from the bed and backed away, glaring furiously at Dumbledore. "You can't kid me!" he hissed. "The asylum, that's where you're from, isn't it? 'Professor,' yes, of course - well, I'm not going, see? The old cat's the one who should be in the asylum. I never did anything to little Amy Benson or Dennis Bishop, and you can ask them, they'll tell you."

Teddie furrowed her brow. His defensive reaction was enough for her to believe that he had had done something to Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop, otherwise he wouldn't be reacting the way he was. He wouldn't be trying his desperate hardest to clear his name. She recognised the skittish behaviour, he was acting like a deer in headlights, desperate for an escape, or for someone to change the subject.

"I am not from the asylum," said Dumbledore patiently. "I am a teacher and, if you will sit down calmly, I shall tell you about Hogwarts. Of course, if you would rather not come to the school, nobody will force you -"

"I'd like to see them try," sneered Riddle.

"Hogwarts," Dumbledore went on, as though he had not heard Riddle's last words, "is a school for people with special abilities -"

"I'm not mad!"

"I know that you are not mad. Hogwarts is not a school for mad people. It is a school of magic.

There was silence. Riddle had frozen, his face expressionless, but his eyes were flickering back and forth between each of Dumbledore's, as though trying to catch one of them lying.

"Magic?" he repeated in a whisper.

"That's right," said Dumbledore.

"It's. . . it's magic, what I can do?"

"What is it that you can do?"

"All sorts," breathed Riddle. A flush of excitement was rising his neck into his hollow cheeks; he looked fevered. "I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to."

He was trembling now. But it wasn't from fear, but rather excitement. A flush had started to rise in his neck, blotching his face and ears a faint shade of pink. He was also breathless, like he had been running. He stumbled forward and sat down on the bed again, staring at his hands.

"I knew I was different," Riddle whispered to his own quivering fingers. "I knew I was special. Always, I knew there was something."

Teddie swallowed and looked down. Everything she was witnessing was exactly what she had gone through when she learned the truth. All her life, people - her parents, friends, neighbours, teachers - they all called her 'special,' sure, some of them teased her and said she was a special in the way she was weird, but it turned out that her special was because she was a witch.