Beta: Cloudy
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
I had put away my homework for the night. I leaned back in my chair at my desk, stretching my arms up wide. To my left was the discarded Daily Prophet. My scandals were dying down. After thinking it over some more, I had to revise my plans of stirring up more scandals in my fourth year. I had already done a lot of damage, but tragically it wasn't going to be as impactful anymore. I was reminded that people could become used to a new norm too quickly and my juicy scandals were becoming dull. It was time to take my victory before I overstayed, the dust needed to settle.
I'd monitor the situation for about a year, then when I was ready to make the killing blow all those scandals that I had brewed in my third year would come raring back to the front page. I had primed the explosives, now I only needed to wait for the right opportunity to unleash the trigger.
A good chunk of my summer, like all the previous summers, had been spent managing Lunar's Orchard, working on the werewolf potion, and stealing. I still had my appearance to keep up as Gentleman Rose, even if most of my efforts now went to focusing on Death Eaters.
The authorities were under the vastly incorrect impression that they were intimidating me into thieving less.
Ha.
Anyo and Odette were fantastic assistants, even if they could not provide much input in the way of potions, their company and ability to methodically and accurately follow instructions made them indispensable.
It was also fun to try and create a sun protection potion for vampires on the side. We were getting better on that front, too! We had a recipe that lasted an hour, but ideally we wanted it to last from sunrise to sunset. It would open a whole new world of possibilities for the vampires, and Anyo had personally reassured me that we would be able to make a fortune selling it to the other vampires.
While I was the one crafting it, Anyo would make the ideal salesman and contact with the vampire community so I suggested we split the profits 70/30 his way. Not only did I have no knowledge over the vampire economy, market, or even connections outside of Anyo's family, but I lacked the time to learn such. He was delighted to accept such, and I was relieved.
Being so busy, though, meant I had to spread out my summer work over several nights. Harry could rush his in a single night and not have to worry about it the rest of his summer.
It also meant that when Remus decided it was time to resume our tutoring in math again I'd be even busier.
I loved my uncle, I really did, and I appreciated that he was doing everything he could to prepare us for future classes.
But goddamn I hated math.
I got it! I understood why it was necessary. I truly wanted to get into Professor Dumbledore's Alchemy class my sixth year at Hogwarts. We'd still need to score a minimum of an E in Potions on our O.W.L.s. I was hella confident in my potion making skills, and by consequence Harry was hella confident I could tutor him over the year.
Alchemy was an ancient science that studied nature's four basic (magical not chemical) elements: fire, earth, air, water, and focused on the transmutation of substances.
I didn't need to know alchemy for my plans. Alchemy rarely related to ritual crafting, and I was doing perfectly fine with my potions. My desire to learn alchemy was purely scientific curiosity—it was something I was doing for myself. There was a bubbling interest in the science of it, and I wondered if perhaps...
Well, I wondered if perhaps there'd be a way to alchemically transmute magic. Like, literally, give magic a solid form. I had read plenty of books about magic stones or ores that produced magic. Yet in the Wizarding World I hadn't seen anything close to it, or even found any hints to someone researching it.
Why?
Clearly magic was something. It was something tangible that interacted with the world, yet no one had found a way to directly interact with it? To give it a solid form to play with?
I wanted to. If I could harness magic and transform it into a raw, solid form that could then be used in... say... rituals.
Could I use raw magic I had built up over years as substitute ingredients in rituals? Namely, could I use it in place of power that would otherwise be difficult for a human to obtain? If so, what would my new limits become?
Would I even have limits?
I hadn't shared those thoughts or ideas with anyone yet—not even Tom. It wasn't done out of malice, or selfishness, so much as I wanted to understand more about the subject before creating a hypothesis to present. If I broached the subject with what little information I knew it'd be laughably one-sided. I wanted to stand as an equal, at the very least.
Really looking forward to a summer where I can just relax, I thought to myself as I shook my head.
"Rosie?"
"Hm?"
"How can I help you, Tom?" I asked him.
"I have been going over the biology notes," Tom began, "and I was hoping you could help clarify some things."
"I can do my best. Let me move to the bed first."
In my third year at Hogwarts Tom had requested a laboratory in his cottage to work on developing spells and going over some things I had taught him. My memories over biology were oddly pristine—as if the knowledge had been ingrained into my very soul. Tom had expressed sincere interest in learning about human biology since I gave him that crash course, but I didn't have the time to tutor him constantly.
The best solution was to condense that knowledge into a series of books and loan them out for him to read. I didn't wholly understand how my memories were able to translate as incredibly accurate textbooks, but that was a thought for another time. I didn't entirely understand how magic worked outside my head, let alone inside my mind. I hadn't found a limit to the possibilities of what magic could do with enough imagination.
At the very least that first life of obsessive studying wouldn't go to waste.
Tom was a brilliant wizard and had little difficulty in his self-studies. He picked up on things in minutes that took me literal days of agonizing over originally.
Bastard.
I entered my mind palace after a couple of minutes of meditating on the bed. I found Tom at his cottage, the textbooks sprawled out around him on the floor. He had several floating parchments and pens writing out things that he muttered. He looked up at me when I entered the cottage, giving me that perfectly fake angelic smile.
"What's up?" I asked him, taking a seat beside him on the wooden floor.
Tom tapped on a word in one of the textbooks. I peered at it.
"Dendrites?" I read the word out loud. "Oooh. You're on the brain now, aren't you?"
"Humanity has truly made some marvelous advancements in fifty years," commented Tom. "As I understand the... Muggles have a better grasp of human biology than wizards do."
"In some cases," I agreed. "I'd say the wizards know the skeletal and cardiovascular system better, though."
Tom's eyes narrowed briefly in thought. "Mm... yes. But the Muggles' comprehension of the nervous system is... remarkable."
Tom's magic subtly twinged at that, as if it physically hurt him to say.
"Humans are resourceful," I said. "They've had to adapt to life without magic. Both communities have advancements and setbacks. It's in our best interest to take the best of both worlds."
"Agreed," said Tom, and I had a good feeling he meant it. "This, however, these dendrites are... odd. It says they play a role in memory formation."
"Correct," I agreed.
"Then what of the soul?" he asked. "I have no physical body, yet I am here. And what of your mind palace?"
"Ah. Yes, that's an excellent question," I agreed. "I imagine it's similar to the whole phylactery conundrum."
Tom blinked. "Phylactery?"
Ah. DnD wasn't around in his period, I realized. I coughed.
"A phylactery is what a lich—an undead necromancer—uses as a way of obtaining immortality," I began to explain, finding it a bit ironic I was explaining a phylactery to a Horcrux. "The lich places their soul in an inanimate object and then moves on to possess an undead body. As long as the phylactery remains safe then the lich can create an endless amount of new bodies to inhabit upon death."
Tom was very still. His magic was stiff, cold, and alert. His dark eyes betrayed nothing of his interest, but I suddenly felt like I was being scrutinized by a very dangerous predator.
This is exciting.
I cleared my throat before I continued. "A lich obviously has no brain left, and as the phylactery is an inanimate object it doesn't have a brain either. How can it hold onto memories without flesh? The answer should be obvious: the soul. The question then turns to exactly how a soul holds memories, and how does it affect the physical body? The rest is purely theory, mind you, as I can't say I've run into an elder lich to directly question. I believe it can be agreed that the soul holds memories, but perhaps it cannot hold everything."
Tom raised a perfect eyebrow. "Why do you think that?"
"Hmm... let me put it like this," I said. "What's two plus two?"
"Four."
"Tell me the day you learned that."
Tom opened his mouth to answer, then he shut it.
"Tell me the day you learned the sky is blue," I pressed on. "When did you learn the word sweet? What ice cream tastes like? That snow is cold? These memories aren't important for us to keep, but the knowledge is. The knowledge is what the soul holds, and the body keeps the memories. It's not a perfect process; most brains are not perfectly eidetic and it still takes time for them to develop enough to begin retaining those memories, but it gets the job done."
Tom carefully considered the theory, mulling it over.
"There could be exceptions, of course," I went on. "If a phylactery was made with the purpose of retaining memories then it could probably do so for a while. I can't imagine it would be ideal for it. What do you think, Tom?"
Tom did not answer for several minutes. His magic was still stiff, and I could feel a certain level of intensity from it that made me bite my tongue to keep from interrupting him. He was thinking over what I had said, and from what I felt, I didn't think he was happy about it.
"You..." Tom closed his eyes, then let out a soft sigh before re-opening them. "I feel that your theory has some truth to it. A... phylactery is likely not meant to retain memories. Even if one were designed with the intent, there is a fundamental issue with the body given."
"An inanimate object can't easily store memories," I said.
"Correct," came his clipped response. He was quiet for another minute, his magic curling around my own like ivy wrapping around a throat. "What do you think I am?"
"A phylactery," I answered. "I clearly feel that you have a soul, but you don't have a body."
"Then do you think I am a lich?" came his dry response, his magic tightening around my own to make me uncomfortable. It was only because I was a sensor that I could feel his subtle anger, and distrust. He knew I felt him like winter, but I never disclosed to him I could sense emotions behind magic. His appearance remained perfectly calm and angelic, and he did not make any overt actions to take over, but—
There was a very good chance if I said the wrong thing, he would try.
"No," I answered, remaining honest. "But I don't think it matters."
His magic curled tighter.
"Why not?" he asked.
I tilted my head. "Because you're Tom. You're a brilliant young wizard with an absurdly pretty face and a buttery voice that I would literally pay hundreds of galleons to pay you to read me to sleep."
He stared at me.
"What?" I asked. "Want me to go on? You're charming, easy to talk to, ridiculously smart, and all around a great guy."
"You don't know me nearly that well," Tom shrewdly said, his magic slowly pulling back.
"I know you have excellent taste in favorite colors," I pointed out. Then I offered him a smile. "But you're right. I don't know you nearly as much as I'd like to. Willing to change that?"
His magic abruptly snapped back, recoiling from my own magic as if it were about to set him on fire or something. He offered up that practiced fake smile that honestly deserved an award on its own. "I—"
I reached forward, pinched his cheeks, and spread them out to make a bigger smile.
"Your fake smile is cute and all, but I'd like to see a real one," I teased. Then I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I won't push you to open up if you don't want to. But I hope you know that I've got open arms for you, Tom."
Never thought that I would say that and actually mean it.
I could differentiate Tom and Voldemort fine. When I had initially set out to answer some of my questions about him I hadn't been expecting much. The manipulation was apparent, but underneath it there was more. He was hurt when he found out he had failed, and his followers abandoned him. He listened to my opinions and even if he did not agree with all of them he honestly considered it. He was helpful.
And kindest of all—he didn't judge me. He did not pressure for questions, or think less of me over my actions, or even my fear.
I couldn't say with a straight face he was a nice person, or someone capable of empathy, but I couldn't say he was evil, either.
He was more guarded than Fenrir, but they shared similar pain.
Maybe one day we could actually be friends.
I stood up from the cottage, Tom staring at me with wide eyes for a moment before he quickly recovered and plastered on that angelic smile again.
"I don't know what you mean, Rosie," he lied.
I smiled back in return. "Okay, Tom."
An idea popped in my head.
"Hey Tom, wanna go see some movies?"
"Movies?" he repeated the word blankly.
"Yep. Let's find your favorite movie."
"That's not nec—"
"As your future best friend it is my duty," I cut him off with a wink and thumbs up. "It'll be fun. If you have a favorite genre to read we can start from there."
"I do not," said Tom shortly. "I did not have the opportunity to read for pleasure very often."
"Welp. Looks like we're gonna have a lot of ground to cover."
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
The hunt to find Tom's favorite things took priority. Sirius and Harry were more than happy to go movie binging with me. It was a bit tricky to figure out how to get a television to work properly in the home—Sirius ended up personally amending the wards which was super cool to watch—but once it was set up a movie was always playing in the home.
It took several days before Tom had watched enough to decide that he preferred mysteries which honestly surprised me—and I think it surprised him.
From that point, it wasn't hard to find books to read with him—he preferred books over movies—and then every night I stayed up a little bit later to read a couple of chapters out of a mystery novel with Tom.
Most of the time he was a quiet listener—he did admit that he liked how I did the voices—but sometimes he'd feel a bit sassy and make a comment on how the characters behaved. The victims at the beginning of the novel faced the brunt of his snark.
I had his favorite color, drink, class, movie, and genre. Next up was to find his favorite song and instrument!
I immediately guessed piano and that he was probably an amazing pianist.
"Never learned to play," he flippantly told me.
"But you have such elegant fingers," I gasped.
"I have been told that several times," said Tom. "I—I did not have access to a piano growing up, nor did I find one at Hogwarts."
"Not even in the Room of Requirement?"
"I did not know about such a place until I met you," he said.
Ah. Right. Diary made in the fifth year, and the diadem was made in the seventh year. Er... or maybe the diary was made in the seventh year but still before the diadem? He certainly was knowledgeable for a fifth year, but I supposed if he spent so much of his time studying instead of learning anything about what he liked... And since he's such an absurd genius he was probably able to learn twice as much as I could my first years at Hogwarts.
Bastard.
"Do you want to learn?" I asked him.
"I do enjoy the music it creates," he admitted. "But I certainly can't learn now."
"Nonsense. I can teach you," I said as I conjured up a grand piano outside. It overlooked the black sea.
"You know how?" Tom was genuinely surprised.
"It's like riding a bike," I told him as I took a seat at the piano. "I might be rusty, but I remember enough. If you want to learn that is."
Tom offered me that lovely smile of his and he took a seat beside me. "I look forward to learning more from you, Rosie."
"I look forward to learning more about you, Tom," I returned.
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
With my priorities shifted to Tom, I wasn't able to do as much thievery as I would have liked, but it was a happy trade-off. I was able to keep up on building repertoire with the neutral and Light families on the Wizengamot through letters, while slowly meeting more families to potentially replace the Dark seats. Lunar's Orchid had grown stable after a couple of years of consistent magical herb output, and everyone was happy with taking the non-pain potions.
Fenrir was doing an excellent job on managing it. He didn't have the traditional experience to handle the bureaucratic side of it, but Odette was happy to assist him until he could handle it. Fenrir had started to put together a proper government inside Lunar's Orchid. I felt confident in his ability that I let him take control over it.
If it became an issue, I'd deal with it, but I had faith in Fenrir so I wasn't concerned.
In fact, the summer was more enjoyable than the other ones.
Don't get me wrong. I loved being a thief.
But I had to say spending the summer being something close to a normal teenage witch was really nice. The extra sleep was fantastic.
After I sent out my letters I got to spend my day hanging out with Harry, being tutored by Remus, studying how to become an illegal animagus with Sirius since I did well in Transfiguration, trying new things with Tom, or lazing about. Then in the evenings I taught Tom piano and read a few chapters from a mystery book with him.
It was a great summer. My favorite summer yet as Rosie.
Come August 18th, 1994 it was time for the Quidditch Cup.
Personally, I didn't really want to go but Harry, Sirius, and Remus were very hard to say no to. At least I could cross it off the bucket list. On that morning I got dressed in a mini skirt, blouse, and packed my bag with entertainment before meeting my family in the kitchen.
Sirius did a spit take of his coffee when he saw me, his spit-coffee landing on a disgusted Remus. "You are not wearing that skirt."
"Yes I am," I dismissed. "See? Wearing it right now."
"Go change into something else."
"What, my birthday suit?"
"How about," Remus said slowly as he wiped off the spit and coffee from his face, "she puts on some pants underneath?"
"How about no?" I interjected cheerfully.
"It's cold up in the stands, Rosie," Remus pointed out.
"I've gotten good at keeping myself warm with magic," I said. Which was true. Tom's magic was like having dry ice inside me. I had to learn to keep warm with my own magic otherwise I'd be a shivering mess. "Besides, all that tennis with Madame Willow has given me some nice legs. I want to enjoy them while I can."
I patted my right thigh in approval.
I never would have thought of myself as cute or pretty in my past life, but Lily and James were some crazy good looking people. I took care of myself in my current life with a healthy diet and exercise.
I finally felt like I was an attractive person. I should cherish it while I could.
"I feel pretty," I mused.
"You are," Tom politely replied.
Ah, shit didn't mean for him to hear that.
My cheeks reddened out of embarrassment from my slip up. "Thanks, Tom. Although we both know I'm not as pretty as you."
"We'll have to agree to disagree there, Rosie."
"You're too smooth, Tom. You're gonna make me swoon."
"Compliments are all it takes?"
"Only if they're from you," I teased.
"Rosie, go change," Sirius insisted.
"Nah."
"If you don't change, you can't come with us," Sirius said, trying to put his foot down.
"Okay," I said, pouring myself a cup of tea from the pitcher.
Harry had come into the kitchen, his wild hair even crazier. He stumbled in, blearily awake and grasping at the air for his cup. I poured him a cup of tea and he blurbed something in between thanks and you're welcome so it came out as, "Thelcome."
"Yep," I responded to my sleepy twin.
Sirius was gaping at me in disbelief. "What do you mean okay? That's supposed to be a terrible incentive! Harry, help. Your sister won't change."
Harry took a long drink of tea before responding. "Rosie, go change or I'll give everyone at school the pictures of you sleeping in your unicorn onesie among your unicorn collection."
My eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."
Harry took another sip of his tea, looked me dead in the eye, and flatly said, "Wouldn't I?"
I wagged my finger at him. "Traitor. Hope your victory tastes bitter."
"Exactly how I like it," he blithely muttered as I left to go change.
Sirius cried out, "That's our boy!"
(≖‿‿≖)ノ⌒●~*
As it turned out the only thing Sirius deemed suitable after that were leggings, and an oversized sweater. I was pleasantly surprised I could pull the look off. I threw on my cloak, some comfortable walking shoes, then headed back down to meet everyone.
We were going via Apparition, so we had to apparate a couple miles off from the camping grounds. Portkey might have gotten us closer, but it would be a hassle to coordinate with another group.
The trek to the grounds was one made in silence. Harry was still waking up, my twin stumbling and bumping into me several times. I settled on holding his hand so he could walk with his eyes closed.
When we finally broke through the forest we had to apparate to, we were presented with quite the sight. Hundreds and hundreds of tents were set up on a large field, each a different shape and color. There were whizzes of lights, childish screams of laughter, and all in all it looked like the early start of rave despite the fact it was barely six o'clock in the morning.
"I hate morning people," Harry muttered, eyeing the energetic crowd with great disdain.
I squeezed his hand. "Except me, right?"
"It changes between love and hate every minute."
"Aww, you're so sweet."
We checked in then headed over to our designated area to pitch our tent. Sirius had purchased a luxurious one that practically screamed Gryffindor. As the sole Slytherin I felt obligated to point that out and he smirked and said, "We're a Gryffindor family, Rosie."
"Don't make me lose the leggings," I threatened him.
"There's a green blanket in my bag, devil child."
I kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Paddy."
"Merlin, watch over the poor fool who falls in love with you," Sirius sighed.
"Does that mean you won't try to threaten the first person I date?" I questioned.
"You'd hurt them far more than I ever could. I'm very proud of you."
I giggled. "How kind of you. Does this mean I can give the talk to Harry's first girlfriend and or boyfriend?"
"Merlin, no," Harry bemoaned, burying his face in his hands. "Please, no."
"How about we do it together?" Sirius offered.
"Please stop."
"It'll be a great family experience," I agreed.
"Uncle Moony, help."
Remus looked at Harry, looked at me and Sirius, then offered Harry an apologetic smile. "I'm sure it won't be so bad."
Once the tent was set up they had Kreacher and Dobby bring over snacks to tide us over for lunch. Sirius and Harry headed to hang out at the Weasley tent, while Remus and I stayed at our tent. Remus because he wanted to get a nap in before the game started, and I because Tom and I had ended in a chapter on a huge cliff hanger last night. We simply could not wait any longer to find out who exactly murdered the prince of Ashabul and framed the Duchess of Tirial for it.
Tragically the book ended in a cliffhanger which meant as soon as we finished that by lunch we had to start up on the second one.
As the day went on and night approached the hype rose to an insane level. I had dragged a chair out of the tent to see the chaos of it all.
Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes—green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria—which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.
Once night had fallen it was time to grab our seats at the stadium. Sirius went all out that year, nabbing us some top box seats. The Weasley's had already gotten to the top before us.
The box filled gradually around us over the next half hour. Arthur shook hands with a lot of wizards who came by, and Percy jumped to his feet so often he had turned red from being out of breath. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat. It was my first time meeting Fudge and the man was eager to introduce himself to me and Harry.
Enjoy your job while you can, moron, I privately thought.
"... such a pleasure to meet you," Fudge went on. "Ah! And here's Lucius!"
Coming up right behind him was the Malfoy family. I cheerfully waved at Draco who gave me a small wave back.
"Ah, Fudge," said Lucius, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"
"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Narcissa. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk—Obalonsk—Mr.—well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else—you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"
It was a tense moment. Arthur and Lucius looked at each other. Lucius's cold gray eyes swept over Arthur, and then up and down the row.
"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"
Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."
"How—how nice," said Arthur, with a very strained smile.
"Come sit by me Draco," I said, patting the empty seat beside me. I knew the Malfoys were coming up, so I took a seat behind Sirius where there were three empty seats.
Draco glanced up at his parents. Narcissa nodded her head in approval and the youngest Malfoy took a seat beside me.
"Finish your homework?" Draco asked.
"Amazingly, yes."
In the next moment, the man I could only assume was Ludo Bagman charged into the box.
"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming with excitement. "Minister—ready to go?"
"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.
Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.
"Ladies and gentlemen welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"
The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite them was wiped clear of its last message (Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans — A Risk with Every Mouthful!) and now showed BULGARIA: 0, IRELAND: 0.
The Quidditch Cup was very similar to attending the FIFA Cup or Super Bowl or whatever. Loud, energetic, sports.
Been to one, been to them all.
It was more interesting to watch the veela and leprechaun mascots taunting one another before all out war broke between them and the veela had to be forcibly removed.
The Irish won, but Viktor Krum still caught the snitch.
We—Sirius, Remus, Harry, and I—were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to our campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us in the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over their heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, the boys didn't feel like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Sirius thought it would be best if we had a cup of tea before bed.
I flopped over in Harry's bed—the beds were all on the outskirts of the large tent with only a drape to give privacy. Harry sat on his bed, taking care not to spill his tea. I was perfectly ready to go to sleep already, though. I closed my eyes, curling up against my twin for warmth as he and Sirius argued about one of the beater plays.
With ease, I drifted off into a comfortable slumber.
I was awoken by the first scream. Harry was snoring beside me, draped over me and using me as a pillow. I carefully pushed myself up, not wanting to needlessly wake Harry. Across the room I could see Remus had also woken up from the scream, immediately alert and grabbing for his wand. We exchanged glances. He mimed at me to stay quiet and stay put.
Remus hopped out of his bed, exiting the tent. Another scream tore through the ear, distant but still distinct. Remus hurried back in, "Get Harry up, Rosie! We're leaving."
I shook Harry awake as Remus woke Sirius up by pinching his nose shut.
"BLOODY HELL!" Sirius exclaimed, abruptly sitting up to gasp for air.
"We need to get the kids out of here," Remus told him shortly.
"S'matter?" Harry mumbled, slowly pushing himself into a sitting position.
"Get dressed, we need to move," I told him, hopping out of bed and pulling a cloak over myself. Harry was slow moving, but I got him to put his shoes back on and threw a cloak over him. Remus grabbed us both as Sirius headed out the tent first, wand drawn.
"Can you Apparate them both?" Sirius asked from outside.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, becoming more alert after seeing how tense Sirius and Remus were.
"Yes. Give me a moment," Remus said, furrowing his brow. "Both of you hold tight. I'm taking you home."
"What's going on?" Harry pressed.
Remus did not answer, instead he Apparated us both home. He sternly told us to stay put, and he and Sirius would be back when they could. Then he left.
"Welp," I said. "Wanna watch a movie while we wait for them?"
"I guess. An answer would have been nice."
"Probably just some idiots acting dumb," I answered. "I'm sure we'll hear all about it when they get back."
We huddled together on the couch under thick blankets while Dobby and Kreacher brought us cups of tea. We finished the first movie, and were a quarter way through the next when Sirius and Remus returned, both tired.
"So..." Harry drawled out, raising an eyebrow. "Anyone want to explain what's going on now?"
"Death Eaters decided to target a Muggle family and make a show of them. Nearly killed the child. Get to bed you two, I'm sure it'll be in the papers tomorrow morning."
Harry wanted to hear the details, but I was more than happy to go to bed.
"That's literally disgusting. Any grown ass adult that tries to harm a child for shits and giggles is less than deplorable."
Tom was wise not to defend the Death Eaters. His magic shifted uncomfortably.
"Would you torture a child, Tom?"
"I do not see myself doing such without very good reason," Tom carefully responded.
"Would you do it simply because the child is a Muggle?"
"No," said Tom after a moment of consideration.
"How come?" I asked after I sensed that he was honest in his response.
"It would not be entertaining," he answered. "I do not take pleasure in harming young children."
That's good, I thought. Okay. Glad to see Tom isn't inherently sadistic.
"Would you do it for a dark ritual?"
Tom's magic twinged, a clear sign that he didn't want to answer me. I felt confident to assume that would be a solid yes.
So harming children for the sake of magic is okay in his books, just not for the sake of doing it, I thought. Personally, I didn't think I could stomach such a process, but over the years I had adapted a very an "ends justifies the means" mindset. If I needed to seriously hurt anyone—regardless of age or gender—in order to achieve my goals I would do so.
If I needed to sacrifice a child to perfect the lycanthrope curse for all werewolves—
I honestly couldn't outright say I wouldn't. Sometimes science had to take some deplorable—by society's standards—to make advancements for the sake of humanity. Human dissection was considered evil and disgusting when originally introduced, but it later led to many lives being saved. Drug trials were a prime example—they could work, or they could lead to a painful death for the patient. There was no way to guarantee, and sometimes sacrifices were a cold necessity.
I was by no means saying I had any sort of moral high grounds. I would never claim to be morally just, or anything close to a hero. I was selfish. Never would I dare to say that because the werewolves were treated so terribly, I had the right to sacrifice someone in a dark ritual. It was not a right. It was not an entitlement. Abuse did not justify abuse.
It only made it understandable, never, ever okay.
But it was something I'd be open to do, and I accepted that about myself.
I was not a good person.
I admitted my thoughts to Tom, and his magic curled around my own as if he had sighed in relief.
"Yes, I feel the same," Tom quietly agreed. "Such things should not be taken lightly, and the sacrifice should be honored. A hunter must use every piece taken with care."
"Surprisingly noble of you."
"Surprising? I would have thought you'd think less of me for being willing to go to such lengths at all."
"I can't be one to judge. I am willing to do some rather extreme things for my own desires. Oh I can hypocritically claim high ground all I want, but at the end of the day I'm forcing my own viewpoints on others and condemning another's."
Tom's magic continued to curl and circle my own, gentle and cool. "Now I have to admit I'm surprised by you."
"I'm fully aware of my hypocrisy." I flopped back on my bed, preparing to enter my mind palace. "I am a young, powerful, and intelligent witch. I can be whatever or whoever I want. I don't need to be defined by the rules of the Light or Dark. I am perfectly comfortable claiming the values of Light while using the Dark tactics."
I slipped into my mind palace, appearing before Tom. He had been sitting at the edge of the black sea, a notebook and pen in his hands. He looked up at my arrival, setting the items aside as I took my seat beside him.
"You can be whoever you want to be, too," I told him. "You don't need to be Light or Dark."
Tom had a thin smile, devoid of amusement. My words bothered him, as his magic started to twitch in agitation. I didn't understand why my praise upset him, he had only ever accepted my compliments previously.
"Is that right?"
"Sure it is. You are a brilliant wizard," I confidently told him, still perplexed by the sharp increase of irritation from his magic.
"Mn." Tom looked back over the black sea, his expression unreadable. He was silent for several minutes as I sat beside him, his magic slowly cooling off into quiet, cold, anger. For the first time in two years, Tom Riddle did not put on a fake smile to hide his annoyance.
He was not the type to scowl, or raise his voice. Instead, he slipped on that angelic poker face to downplay his anger with me. His voice was tight, perfectly controlled to reflect a certain level of aggression as he asked, "What do you want?"
"In general?"
"What do you want from me?" sharply asked Tom, his dark gaze focused solely on the dark waves crashing against the shore.
"Your friendship?" I asked, confused by his question. "What do you mean?"
"I cannot give you power. The knowledge I can give you is something you're perfectly capable of obtaining yourself. I have no wealth. I have nothing to give you. I," Tom gestured to himself, "am only a memory. Why would you want my friendship?"
Ah.
Wow.
Our friendship is finally turning into something real! Woo-hoo!
I couldn't stop the giant grin on my face as I lurched forward and hugged Tom tightly.
The compliments I had previously given him were treated without much thought or care. I was simply a tool for him to manipulate. And over the years together that had slowly shifted into something more sincere. I would take it as a sign that he liked me enough as a person to value my opinion—or at least he respected me enough to do so.
From that point his childhood traumas couldn't be dismissed.
I didn't know the gritty details of what it was like to grow up the way Tom did, but it wasn't hard to infer. He grew up in an overly religious orphanage in the middle of a terrible war. He was ostracized, unwanted, and undoubtedly harassed. Even if there had been no physical abuse—which I highly doubted—the psychological torment inflicted upon him would have been terrible.
Then he came to Hogwarts and was sorted in a House where family meant everything—and he had none.
No money, no power, no family.
He had to provide something to gain followers. He had to buy their loyalties somehow.
He had no experience in forming friendships.
The only relationship he knew was domination against subservient.
I was not subservient to him, nor did I try to dominate him.
He didn't know how to handle me and my compliments must have been a trigger for him. Compliments were a common way to manipulate others, after all. Perhaps he thought I was trying to manipulate him.
Therefore: our relationship was sincere enough to him that the idea of me trying to manipulate him angered him.
I couldn't be happier!
Tom was stiff and uncomfortable under my hug.
"Just you," I told him with all the warmth and sincerity I could give him. I shared with him my utter delight, my magic joyfully wrapping around his own in a bright embrace. "Tom, I am well and truly happy being your friend. I like you. You're not a memory to me—you're Tom. You are my dear, dear friend."
His magic was recoiled away from my mine, tight, uncomfortable, and yet—
—it started to feel a little bit warmer.
ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ
Y'all ready for year 4? :)
Answer: Fox.
Question: How do you exclaim you're happy? Do you use woo hoo / yee-haw / yeet / yeetus / yippee / etc?
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