Chapter 24: Honestly Lying
Estela spent her free lessons in the library, searching the restricted section for books that may tell her more about Salazar Slytherin. She had been experiencing some strange sensations since returning back to Hogwarts. Strange tingling feelings whenever she saw the Slytherin logo on the robes of passing students, or when she heard someone speak the name. Last week she had experienced a vivid image of some sort, just for a brief moment, but she couldn't remember it very clearly. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew there was something. Something that was calling to her in some strange way.
January was drawing to an end and Estela was reading a curious little book that didn't have a title, or perhaps it had just worn off. It was definitely a very old volume, and the binding was extremely fragile.
When she opened the dusty book she saw it was written in fancy handwriting, and on the first page there was nothing but the name G. Bainard. She searhed the book for a date of some sort, and in the very back of the old book she came across the date 'November 1012'. Estela could not believe how old the book was. It dated from the time when the Hogwarts founders had lived. The time of her ancestors.
Her heat skipped excitedly as she opened the book and eagerly flipped through the first few pages. As she read, she realised it was a sort of diary written by a man who called himself G. Bainard's who seemed to be documenting his time at Hogwarts.
It was absolutely fascinating. This was the life of a student who attended Hogwarts during its founding years. As she read onwards, drinking up the words on each page like they were a matter of life or death, she learnt that G. Baindard was a Slytherin. Her eyes widened a bit as the author began documenting his lessons, and she was pleasantly surprised to read about lessons that were taught by Salazar Slytherin himself.
From the text, she could sense that G. Bainard seemed close with Salazar. She wouldn't be surprised if they were close friends, in fact. Bainard wrote about his experience of dining With Salazar in the privacy of his personal chambers once, and it seemed as though they knew each other very well. A particular passage caught Estela's eye:
"Salazar; such an interesting fellow. He telleth tales of such adventure and excit'ment that I cannot believe that he is alive to recite them. He teased me with some secret plans he is working on, only subtly, of course, but secret nonetheless. He hath a purpose which cannot beest revealed, and he allowed me to visit the hidden room whither he keepeth incredible artefacts from his travels. Such interesting items, of which I'm sure their value cannot even be comprehended."
A hidden room where he keeps valuable artefacts? Estela felt a surge of exhilaration rush through her body as she continued reading eagerly, but she stopped when she read the name 'Helena'. She thought it was too coincidental, but the date matched, and it was possible that G. Bainard was referring to Helena Ravenclaw, Hogwarts' very own Grey Lady, and perhaps Helena knew who he was.
Estela immediately set off for Ravenclaw Tower, which was where Helena could usually be found. Outside the entrance to the Common Room, she was pleased to see the ghost floating serenely as she gazed out of a window.
"Good afternoon, Estela," she said distantly, continuing to gaze out of the window.
"Helena, I wanted to ask you... Do you know anything about G. Bainard?" Estela showed her the book.
Silence fell between them, and Estela couldn't help but notice how tense Helena had suddenly become.
"Where did you get that?" she asked faintly, not taking her hazy eyes off of the book.
"It was in the Restricted Section of the library. I take it you recognise it? You're mentioned in it, you know," said Estela, trying to capture her attention, and Helena's large eyes shot up as she slowly took the book out of her hand. Helena opened it and read it silently, her dead eyes scanning the words intently.
"You mustn't read this," she said, closing the book with a snap, causing a large cloud of dust to erupt into the space between them.
"Why not?"
"G. Bainard - you do not know who he is?" Helena pressed.
"Not yet," Estela replied, eyeing her suspiciously, trying to figure out who this man might have been. Obviously there was a possibility that she could know him; that much was evident from Helena's reaction. But who was he? Then a thought flashed across her racing mind. "Wait-" she said slowly, trying to work things out frantically.
"You've figured it out?" Helena asked, frowning at her.
"G. Bainard is the Bloody Baron?" she asked slowly as things gradually fell into place in her mind. Helena's eyes darted around quickly as she told Estela not to speak so loudly. "Why don't you want me to read it?"
"This book contains my story, Estela, a story I am not proud of in the slightest," she said wretchedly.
"It's not your story I'm interested in, it's the Baron's and what he has to say about Slytherin."
"Slytherin?" Helena asked in a high voice. "What do you want to know about him?" she said with a tone of repugnance.
"Slytherin is a part of me too, Helena, I can't just ignore that."
"A Ravenclaw is who you truly are. I have seen it in you since you were eleven. Looking into Slytherin will bring you nothing but harm, Estela, heed my words."
Estela shook her head. Helena wouldn't understand. She held a grudge against Slytherin ever since her encounter with the Baron. "I need to know more."
Helena frowned. "It is natural to want to know who you are and where you come from. But Slytherin was a wicked man with ruthless intentions, and you are nothing like him," she said, a shadow of sadness spread across her face. "You need not know more."
"I suppose it's my Ravenclaw characteristics that bring out my thirst for more knowledge," she said with a faint smile, knowing this would somewhat satisfy Helena who nodded softly. "I don't want to be like Slytherin - I really don't - it's just I feel like I'm missing something, and I have a feeling that the book is going to help me find it," she said, holding out her hand to Helena who was tightly gripping the Baron's book. Somewhat reluctantly, Helena handed it back to her.
"Do not think badly of me when you hear my story," she said sadly, before she floated off down the corridor serenely.
***
Estela heard a familiar voice calling her name. Anthony had come out of the Common Room and was motioning her over. She quickly hid the book in her bag before he had a chance to make his way over to her.
"I told Cayra everything I remember about that night and... well she wants to talk to you," he said with a mixture of emotions running across his face.
Estela nodded as they both entered the Common Room, where she saw Cayra waiting for them at the far end of the room, fumbling with her fingers nervously. Estela sighed and Anthony gave her a look of encouragement before they both sat beside Cayra. There was silence between the three of them before Anthony broke it.
"So... Cayra and I have been talking and I've told her all I remember from that night... and-"
"And I started to remember too," Cayra finished in a small voice, still looking at the floor. "I honestly didn't remember a thing. I didn't know what on earth you were on about when you accused us of those things, and well... I - I'm sorry, Estela," she said delicately, finally raising her glistening brown eyes towards Estela.
Estela wanted to forgive her, but she couldn't. Not after the way she had made up those falsely childish rumours about her that had spread through the castle like wildfire. And for what? Out of jealousy? A flash of anger and annoyance ignited in Estela's stomach as she wondered why Cayra would have done that.
"I hope that's not the only thing you're sorry for," Estela said slowly, watching her closely as Cayra's light brown eyes flickered up to meet her gaze.
Cayra shook her head in confusion. "Wha-?"
"Those rumours you started," Estela said coldly. "Those childish, unnecessary rumours you felt the need to spread?"
"Oh," Cayra said quietly, her gaze falling to her lap. "I was angry. I was confused as to why you weren't speaking to me anymore. I thought you'd ditched us for Riddle and thrown us to the side like we weren't good enough for you anymore or something. I know I shouldn't have. I was stupid."
"Incredibly stupid," Estela replied monotonically. "I just hope you know I won't be so forgiving if you ever do something like that again."
Cayra's lips parted slightly at Estela's words and the harsh coldness to her glare. But she closed her mouth and nodded. "I won't. Never."
Estela gave her a single nod and turned to Anthony for a while, unable to look back at Cayra for a while until the thought of her betrayal and those idiotic rumours were gone from her mind.
She thought about what happened to her when her friends supposedly cursed her.
"I should have known you wouldn't do anything like that. But now we have the question of who cursed you two. And why?"
A few names popped into her mind: Astrea and Abraxas had the motive. So did someone else. Someone significant.
"That's what we were just talking about," said Anthony. "We can't remember anything like that and we can't think of anyone who would want to harm us, except a few Slytherins, but we doubt they'd do something as extreme."
"Which brings us to you..." said Cayra, carefully looking at Estela as she eyed Anthony warily. "Would anyone want to hurt you, Estela?"
Estela's mind raced immediately to one person, Tom. She didn't want to believe it, but he was the only one she could think of. She tried and tried to think of reasons it could be Tom, because if she found out it was him, she would never be able to forgive him, and her task would be over.
She laughed at herself for being so naive. He was a murder. He had murdered his family because they had abandoned him. She couldn't rule him out just because of her task or because she was blinded. She had to be logical here.
But it made sense, despite how much she wished it didn't. She felt something boiling up within her, a burning rage that swam through her blood, as she got up from where she sat and headed off, ignoring the voices of Cayra and Anthony who were calling her.
She was going to find him. Oh how she desperately wished it wasn't him, for the sake of everything that had happened and everything she'd done to try and change him. How she hoped he would say with complete honesty that he would never do anything to hurt her, but honesty was not something you could expect of Tom Riddle.
After searching the castle for him, she finally came across him in the corridor outside of the Slytherin Common Room, he was walking with Rita Leighton who was slowly positioning herself closer and closer next to him, twirling her blond hair round her finger as she walked.
"Tom," Estela shouted down the corridor.
They both turned backwards to look at her, and Riddle cast an uncertain glance towards Rita whose red lips had upturned in annoyance at the sight of Estela.
"I need to speak with you," she said, catching up to them both. She looked at Rita who had crossed her arms over her chest and was glaring at Estela with disapproval. "In private."
Riddle's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but he reluctantly turned towards Rita. "We'll continue our discussion later."
The look of disappointment on Rita's face was evident. "But -"
Tom placed a hand on Rita's shoulder which shut her up immediately, and her entire form froze at his touch. "Later."
Rita gave him an enchanting smile that made Estela sick to the stomach before she pranced down the corridor and out of sight.
Tom turned to face Estela, one side of his mouth raised in an insufferable little smirk as he watched her. But his annoying self-righteous expression completely faltered as Estela grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him down round the corner.
"What on earth -"
"Did you curse Cayra and Anthony and make them attack me?"
Riddle's newfound anger disappeared, and his entire expression hardened into stone. He did not reply at once, but her words didn't seem to faze him in the slightest, either. He kept his composure cool and calculating as he examined every inch of her face before he raised an eyebrow and said simply,
"No."
She gritted her teeth, trying her best to read his absolutely unreadable expression, the rage within her still boiling and just waiting in anticipation for the wrong words to escape his mouth. Anything that would allow her to catch him out.
"The thing is with you, Tom, is that I don't know whether or not I can trust you," she spat. His eyes were gentle as they watched her and there was the tiniest hint of a frown on his lips.
"Why would you think it was me? Why would I want to hurt you?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
"You tell me," she demanded. If his act was innocence, she was not going to play along. He was far from innocent in so many ways.
"I don't want to hurt you," he said, rolling his eyes as though the notion was absurd, and he was clearly becoming impatient. "I did not curse your friends and I thought I'd made it quite clear that you can trust me."
"But it all makes perfect sense! You wanted me to trust you so that you could drag me along to Little Hangleton! You needed me to fall out with Cayra and Anthony so that I had nobody to turn to but you!" she countered.
Tom seemed to be becoming more and more frustrated and she watched his straight jaw clench and unclench as he contemplated his words carefully.
"I have no interest in your relationship with your friends," he spat. "Yes I wanted you to accompany me to Little Hangleton, but I knew you would have done so even if you didn't fall out with them. I thought that we could depend on each other by now, considering who we are. I thought you knew me well enough to know that I would never want to harm you in any way. If you don't recall, I was the one to save you that night," he said with a smug smirk.
"You didn't save me. And it's quite suspicious that you juts happened to be there. What were you doing there?" she demanded, ignoring his feeble attempt to plead innocence.
"Saving you," he said plainly.
"You see the trouble is, Tom, that I still don't know whether or not I believe you, everything is far too coincidental," she said, shaking her head.
"Then I'll prove it to you. I'll find who did it and I'll make them confess. Will that ease your mind?"
"Not in the slightest!" she said exasperatedly. "Do you really think I'm that stupid, Tom? After accompanying you to Little Hangleton and witnessing you framing your very own uncle with the murders of your family, not to mention framing an innocent boy for the death of a student, do you really think I'm going to expect you not to just pin this on whoever's convenient enough to grant you innocence?"
His voice turned grave now. He wasn't playing anymore. "Listen to me. I didn't curse your friends and I didn't cast the Unforgiveable Curse on you, either. I don't care whether or not you believe me and I don't give a damn about what your pathetic friends think. But if you want justice for whoever did this, then I'm saying that I can grant it to you."
"And how would you find who did it?" she asked him dryly.
"You know me, I have my ways," he said deviously as Estela watched him walk off casually down the corridor as she stood there until he was out of sight.
***
As Riddle walked out across the Hogwarts grounds, he spotted his followers gathered together on one of the benches as they cast simple hexes on unsuspecting people who passed by. Abraxas Malfoy saw him coming and notified the others who immediately stopped what they were doing.
"Tom," said Lestrange, who greeted Tom with a nervous nod. Tom flinched at those words and he struck Lestrange hard on his arm.
"I've told you not to call me that," he told Lestrange with a voice as cold as ice.
"I'm sorry, my Lord, forgive me," mumbled Lestrange.
"Malfoy and Avery, follow me. I want a word," he said, glaring at them both who looked nervously at each other before getting up and following Tom back inside the castle. He led them to an empty corridor on the first floor outside the cleaning cupboard.
"Is everything alright?" Malfoy asked nervously placing his hands into his coat pockets.
"No, Malfoy, not quite," Riddle replied, his eyes flashing. "You see, when I trusted you two idiots to carry out a simple task, I expected you to complete it without any difficulties," he said, his voice unnaturally calm which unnerved Malfoy and Avery even more. "You will both agree that the task of casting the imperious charm on Goodwin and Williams was simple, won't you?" he asked them, as they both nodded under his intense glare. "Then why couldn't you two idiots DO IT RIGHT?" he roared. The fright was evident on the two boys' faces. "Malfoy," said Tom in a low growl, "Do you think that you performed well when you cursed that piece of filth Anthony Goodwin?"
"I feel I did the best I could have, my Lord," said Malfoy quietly as Tom turned to Avery.
"And you," he demanded, turning on Avery. "Do you feel you performed well when you cursed the girl?"
"To the best of my ability, my Lord," he said, his voice low as he stared at his shoes.
"To the best of your abilities... I see. Well, my friends, this worries me," Riddle said as he flashed them a smile, and the two boys eyed each other confoundedly, a shiver running down their spines. "You two are meant to be my most able followers and yet you cannot perform a simple Imperius curse!" he said, his voice becoming darker. "They've started to remember bits from that night. They can see little extracts of what happened. Now, here's a little quiz for you: what happens if they start to remember more?" Riddle eyed Malfoy and Avery who seemed too afraid to blink. "They will tell Estela everything and I will no longer be able to use her for my plans. And whose fault will it be?" he asked, pausing, and his two followers were unsure as to whether the question was rhetorical or not. "Yours. For being too stupid to follow my instructions!"
"But if they've started to remember, my Lord, would it not be the memory charm that was weak rather than the imperius curse?" Avery asked, whilst Malfoy closed his eyes tightly shut as he sighed, and waited for what was inevitably about to happen to his friend.
Tom froze, turning slowly on his heel to face Avery. Just as slowly, Tom's lips spread into an unnerving grin, and Avery's face lost any trace of colour. But, admirably, he kept his head held high as he watched his master.
With a single hard-hitting blow, Avery stammered to the ground with a thud. Avery tried his best to hide his anger - he didn't want any more trouble, and so he remained silent, and did nothing but rest his throbbing head against the wall, caressing his temple which was beginning to bleed.
By his side, Malfoy resisted the urge to help his friend, simply because he was afraid that Tom might do the same to him - or worse. And deep down he knew that Tom had not yet finished with Avery.
Quickly, Tom pointed his wand quickly at each door and window in the corridor and non-verbally cast a silencing charm to mute any sounds. He strode up to Avery who was still sitting on the ground, his jaw clenched tightly at the sight of Riddle approaching him once more.
"Get up," Tom demanded, his voice dangerously low, but Avery simply met Riddle's blazing glare with cold eyes. From his side, Malfoy prayed he would just obey. "GET UP!" Tom roared, and Avery got to his feet.
Lorcan Avery was an extremely proud wizard of very noble descent. He was a skilled wizard and a star student, with the wit and charm that teachers and other students adored. And he did not take well to being treated like this. But despite his skill and intellect, despite his proudness and confidence, he was afraid of Riddle. And despite how much he wanted to fight back, despite how much he despised being humiliated like this, he remained silent. Because he knew what Riddle could do. He knew he could hurt him in ways even he couldn't imagine. And so bit his proud tongue to stop it from saying anything that could make things worse.
Avery's icy glare watched Riddle pace restlessly, his hands pressed together against his mouth in a kind of praying manner before he made towards Avery once more. He didn't stop until they were merely inches apart; face to face as they stared each other down - the challenge evident in the small space between them. Avery grimaced, but clenched his fists tightly to stop him from doing anything stupid.
"I'm sorry, my Lord," he said tightly. "I didn't mean-"
"Shut up! You fool!" He spat at Avery who clenched his jaw. "You dare to accuse me of not being able to cast a memory charm! Shall I prove to you that I can, in fact, cast a memory charm, Avery? Shall I make you forget everything from your name, your family and the colour of your hair until you're a mindless soul forced to spend their life in St. Mungo's? Would you like that?" He did not answer. "You know what, Avery, I'll educate you, shall I?" he said in a tone of utter repulsion. "When one doesn't properly cast the Imperius curse, the victim isn't fully oblivious to what happens around them. Thus, after the curse has been lifted and they are back to their normal selves, the empty spaces of time in which they were cursed start to reform in their minds, causing them to slowly remember what happened to them," he explained to Avery in a deathly tone. "It was your duty to perform the curse, and it's their actions from the time they were under the influence of your feeble spell that they remember! I erased their minds from the point after the curse was lifted, having thought that you were at least somewhat capable of casting the curse correctly."
Avery said nothing, he just stared back at Tom and took whatever he said. He felt weak for doing do, but he knew that he would make things so much worse if he did or said anything else.
"Now, do you still believe that it is my fault, Avery?" he asked sardonically before he pointed his wand at him and sent a streak of purple flames towards him which struck him squarely in his chest. Avery winced as he backed against the stone wall, his hands clutching his chest which felt like it was being streaked from top to bottom with an incredibly sharp knife. He grabbed ribs as he fell to his knees on the floor and winced, not letting himself be so weak as to moan in agony, even though that's what he wanted to do more than anything in that moment.
Malfoy averted his eyes from his friend and stayed quiet on the side-line. Tom spat at the ground where Avery knelt before turning on Malfoy.
"If either of you ever doubt me again," Riddle said dangerously. "You can be sure you'll never see the light of day again. Take him to the hospital wing," he ordered as he wiped his brow. "Quickly, it could be fatal and I don't want to have to deal with that. When he recovers tell him that he is to confess to Estela for cursing her friends. He will take all of the blame," he said as he left Malfoy to deal with a squirming Avery, without feeling a single thread of remorse whatsoever.
Once Riddle had gone, Abraxas rushed towards Avery who was clutching his chest and gritting his teeth in pain. "Come on, you bloody idiot, let's get you to the hospital wing."
Malfoy hoisted Avery up, but he could hardly stand, and he finally let out a much needed growl of agony, letting his brave front fall as he tried his best to fight against the blinding pain.
Author's Note: Hello! Thank you all for reading as always and thanks to everyone who has been commenting, I love reading what you think of the story! As usual, rate and leave me a comment telling me what you think, and thank you all for reading. Until next time, nox. :)