gif of vera
It had become routine second-nature for Diana. Entering memories had become a thing of habit by now, and this time was no different. She landed in Hokey the house-elf's memory with ease, quickly assessing her surroundings before expertly awaiting the first sign of movement.
The sitting room they stood in was excessive and lavish with expensive trinkets and colorful furniture. A very, very large woman sat before them in a large, throne-like chair. She wore a terribly ginger wig and a set of blinding pink robes which made her look oddly like strawberry ice cream melting in the sun. And old, tiny house-elf laced her fleshy feet into tight satin slippers.
"Hurry up, Hokey!" said Hepzibah tartly. "He said they're coming at four, it's only a couple of minutes to and they've never been late yet!"
The house-elf finished lacing her slippers, and Hebzibah scrunched her wig for volume. In actuality, it made it look more like the hair of Frankenstein's Bride.
"How do I look?" she asked, turning to a nearby mirror and twirling so she could examine herself.
"Lovely, Madam," squeaked Hokey.
A tinkling doorbell rang through the room and both jumped before Hokey hastened to the door.
"Quick, quick," hissed Hepzibah to the retreating house-elf. Hokey needed to maneuver around the copious piles of trinkets and objects that littered the room in haphazardly-methodical stacks and piles. They littered the many shelves along the wall.
The house-elf returned within moments, followed by two figures who strode with a confident ease.
It took no time to recognize their faces; Tom Riddle walked behind Hokey with a small bouquet of pink flowers. Hepzibah all but swooned at the young man as he smirked at her. It was all strategy; he knew the effect he had, and he intended to use it to his advantage.
Behind him walked Vera Beauregard, her hair braided into a pretty crown around her head. She wore a black, fitted jacket over a royal purple dress that ended at her knees. She was, in all truthfulness, a goddess. She had the beauty of Aphrodite, the mind of Athena, and the strength of Artemus roaring through her veins. She was a force, just as Tom was, and she was a hurricane that couldn't be destroyed.
"I brought you flowers," he said quietly as he handed them to her. His voice was playful, but it was an act. Vera held his hand and she stood at his side quietly.
"You naughty boy, you shouldn't have!" said Hepzibah bashfully. "Sit down, sit down...Where's Hokey? Ah..."
The house-elf dashed into the room carrying a silver tray of little cakes and tea, which she set on a small table between Hepzibah's throne and the couch Vera and Tom sat on.
"Help yourself, help yourself..." she said. She grabbed a cake for herself. "My dear, Vera, you have been well I trust?" she asked with sincerity. Even to someone as grand as Hepzibah considered herself, not even she could ignore her strong and dominating presence. Hepzibah felt a very peculiar urge to impress her as if she were royalty.
"Very well, thank you," said Vera delicately. While everyone in her vicinity would be entranced by her, she seemed to be completely oblivious to the effect she seemed to have on people. She was not quite shy, but she was quiet and introverted. She spoke sparingly and she sat straightly, but she did not use her power to manipulate like Tom did. In fact, Diana couldn't tell if Vera even understood her forceful presence even when she wasn't trying.
"Good, very good..." said Hepzibah. "And you, Tom? You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times..."
Tom smiled mechanically, and Hepzibah simpered. She was attracted to Tom, but she didn't dare do anything stupid. She was just as affected by Vera and didn't dare step out of line.
"Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time?" she asked, batting her eyelashes harmlessly.
"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Tom. "Five hundred galleons, he feels it is more than fair--"
"Now, now, not so fast, or I'll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.
Tom's face did not change, but Diana could see the change in his eyes. They were full of contempt and frustration, and Vera discreetly grabbed his hand tightly. It was more grounding than comforting, Diana noticed. It meant, stay calm.
"I am ordered here because of them," said Tom quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire--"
"Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah. "I have something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke. Can you two keep a secret? Will you promise to not tell anyone I've got it? You will appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it."
"We would love to see it," said Vera lightly, and Hepzibah beamed.
"I had Hokey bring it out for me...Hokey, where are you? I want to show our guests our finest treasure...in fact, bring both, while you're at it...."
"Here, Madam," squeaked the house-elf as she handed over two leather boxes stacked on top of each other.
"Now," said Hepzibah, gingerly taking the boxes from the elf. "I think you'll like this, Tom...Oh, if my family knew I was showing you...They can't wait to get their hands on this!"
She opened the lid of the first box. Inside was a golden cup with two fine handles on each side.
Diana gave a great jolt, her breath catching in her throat. She had seen this. Just like the ring and the locket, she had seen this cup where she had seen the others. They littered her dreams like an infestation, and nothing could make her forget those images seared into her brain.
Tom reached for the cup, almost hungrily, and hooked a slender finger around one of the handles. He examined it with maniacal interest that Hepzibah didn't notice. Vera did, though, and she watched Tom intently as if he was a bomb ready to blow and she would have to disarm him if necessary. He handed to cup to Vera who took it delicately and examined it with intellectual interest.
"A badger," murmured Vera. "This was Hufflepuff's?"
"Yes, very good!" said Hepzibah with a sharp clap. "Helga Hufflepuff's! Didn't I tell you I was distantly descended? This has been handed down in the family for years and years. Lovely, isn't it? And all sorts of powers it's supposed to possess too, but I haven't tested them thoroughly, I just keep it nice and safe in here..."
Hepzibah took the cup back and secured it once again in its leather box.
"Now then," she said happily, "where is Hokey? Oh yes, there you are--take that away now, Hokey."
The elf obediently took it and retreated from the room.
"I think you'll like this even more, Tom," she whispered, turning her attention to the second box. "Lean in a little, so you can see...Of course, Burke knows I've got this one, I bought it from him, and I daresay he'd love to get it when I'm gone..."
She opened the lid carefully, and this time Tom reached out for the object without invitation.
And for the second time that night, Diana gave another heavy jolt as the wind was knocked out of her lungs.
"Slytherin's mark," said Tom quietly. His eyes were glued to the beautiful locket decorated with gleaming emeralds.
"That's right!" said Hepzibah excitedly. "I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn't let it pass. Burke bought it, apparently, from a ragged-looking woman who seemed to have stolen it, but had no idea of its true value--"
And then, Tom's eyes flashed a violent shade of red. It was not a trick of the light, Diana was sure, and she took a step forward to look closer at his eyes. Alas, they were back to their normal dark color, but she knew what she saw. They were the red eyes she sees in her dreams. They were the red eyes of a snake.
"--I daresay Burke paid her a pittance but there you are...Pretty, isn't it..."
Tom's knuckles visibly whitened as he clenched the chain. Calmly but surely, Vera set her other hand, the hand not in his, on his knee with a tight grip. Just as it had done when she grabbed his hand before, she was anchoring him.
When Hepzibah reached for the locket, it looked as if he might not let go, but it slid through his fingers and he watched it as it was taken from him. Vera clenched his hand harder.
"So there you are, dears, and I hope you enjoyed that!" said Hepzibah delightedly, completely oblivious to the obvious tension that blanketed the room. Hepzibah's eyes landed on Tom's face, and even she, though, was able to perceive the look on his face.
"Are you all right, dear?"
"Oh yes," said Tom quietly after Vera nudged his slightly. "Yes, I'm very well...."
Hepzibah looked unnerved, but said nothing on the matter. "Here, Hokey, take these away and lock them up again....The usual enchantments...."
Diana felt a tug on her arm. Dumbledore stood between her and Harry and he tugged their arms lightly until they began soaring back through the void and into his office. Again, this was routine, and they sat back in their seats at once.
"Hepzibah Smith died two days after that little scene," said Dumbledore quietly. Diana closed her eyes for a moment and bit her lip. "Hokey the house-elf was convicted by the Ministry of poisoning her mistress's evening cocoa by accident."
"No way!" said Harry angrily.
"I see we are of one mind," said Dumbledore with a furtive glance at Diana. "Certainly, there are many similarities between this death and that of the Riddles. In both cases, someone else took the blame, someone who had a clear memory of having caused the death--"
"Hokey confessed?"
"She remembered putting something in her mistress's cocoa that turned out not to be sugar, but a lethal and little-known poison," said Dumbledore. "It was concluded that she had not meant to do it, but being old and confused--"
"Voldemort modified her memory, just like he did with Morfin!"
"Yes, that is my conclusion too," said Dumbledore. "By the time Hokey was convicted, Hepzibah's family had realized that two of her greatest treasures were missing. It took them awhile to be sure of this, for she had many hiding places, having already guarded her collection most jealously. But before they were sure beyond that the cup and the locket were both gone, the assistant who had worked at Borgin and Burkes, the young man who had visited Hepzibah so regularly and charmed her so well, had resigned his post and vanished along with his beautiful and mysterious girlfriend. His superiors had no idea where he had gone; they were surprised as anyone at his disappearance. And that was the last that was seen or heard of the two of them for a very long time.
"Now," said Dumbledore, "if you don't mind, I want to pause once more to draw your attention to certain points of our story. Voldemort had committed another murder; whether it was his first since he killed the Riddles, I do not know, but I think it was. This time, as you will have seen, he killed not for revenge but for gain. He wanted two fabulous trophies that poor, besotted, old woman showed him. Just as he had once robbed the other children at his orphanage, just as he had stolen his Uncle Morfin's ring, so he ran off now with Hepzibah's cup and locket."
"But," said Harry, frowning, "it seems mad....Risking everything, throwing away his job, just for those..."
"To any normal person, it would be absurd," said Diana, who had not spoken since they had sat down. "You have to understand, Tom's mind was not like yours. He was obsessive and impulsive. To him, these were just as important as anything. He felt that the locket was rightfully his."
And mine.
"The locket maybe," said Harry, "but why take the cup as well?"
Dumbledore was about to answer, but Diana was quicker. "This school was everything to him. I think he felt a deep, personal attachment to this school and its history, and he couldn't resist an object so intertwined with the history of this school."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "There were other reasons, I believe....I hope to be able to demonstrate them to you in due course. Secondly, I'd like to point out the dynamic between Voldemort and Vera."
"She comforted him," said Harry hesitantly, eyeing Diana. "She calmed him."
Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "Exactly. While no one could ever interact with Tom that way, she was able to do it and he let her."
"She anchored him," said Diana, echoing her thoughts while watching it. "She kept him in control, and he let her."
"And now, for the very last recollection I have to show you, at least until you manage to retrieve Professor Slughorn's memory for us. Ten years separates Hokey's memory and this one, ten years during which we can only guess at what Lord Voldemort was doing...."
They got to their feet.
"Whose memory is it?" asked Harry.
"Mine."
And they dived again through the Pensieve and landed in the very office they had just left. Fawkes slumbered happily on his perch, and a younger Dumbledore sat behind the desk. Behind the same window Diana usually gazed out of, snow fell lightly onto the white grounds below.
They heard a knock on the door, and the younger Dumbledore called for them to enter. The door opened with the usual creak, and a figure stepped in dressed primly.
This version of Tom Riddle made Diana give a slight start. She watched him stride into the room. There was something very, very odd about his face--his features seemed distorted and waxy and the whites of his eyes were permanently crimson. He looked inhuman and dream-like. He looked like a monster.
The Dumbledore behind the desk showed no surprise, and he gestured for Tom to take a seat.
"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore evenly. "Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you," said Tom, and took a seat in one of the chairs--the very chair, in fact, the Diana had been sitting in. Goosebumps appeared on her arms.
"I heard that you had become Headmaster," said Tom. "A worthy choice."
"I am glad you approve," said Dumbledore, smiling. "May I offer you a drink?"
"That would be welcome," said Tom. "I have come a long way."
Dumbledore stood and swept to a near cabinet and poured them two generous drinks. He handed one to Tom and kept the other for himself before sitting back in his chair.
"So, Tom...to what do I owe the pleasure?"
There was a brief silence as Tom sipped his drink.
"They do not call me 'Tom' anymore," he said. "These days, I am known as--"
"I know what you are known as," said Dumbledore with a pleasant smile. "But to me, I'm afraid, you will always be Tom Riddle. It is one of those irritating things about old teachers. I am afraid that they never quite forget their charges' youthful beginnings."
Dumbledore's words did not visibly affect Tom, but it changed the atmosphere. What was once a calm yet charged atmosphere, like potential energy ready to be converted to kinetic, the space changed until the room was plagued with tension that seemed to be emanating from Tom.
"I am surprised you have stayed here so long," said Voldemort. His voice was slightly tighter and his eyes were slightly harder. "I always wondered why a wizard such as yourself never wished to leave school."
"Well," said Dumbledore, still smiling, "to a wizard such as myself, there can be nothing more important than passing on ancient skills, helping hone young minds. If I remember correctly, you once saw the attraction of teaching too."
Voldemort inclined his head slightly and the room was silent as they both sipped their drinks.
"I have returned," he said, after a little while, "later, perhaps, than Professor Dippet expected...but I have returned, nonetheless, to request again what he once told me I was too young to have. I have come to ask that you permit me to return to this castle, to teach. I think you must know I have seen and done much since I left this place. I could show and tell your students things they can gain from no other wizard."
It was silent again as Dumbledore seemed to be considering,
"Yes, I certainly do know that you have seen and done much since leaving us," he said quietly. "Rumors of your doings have reached your old school, Tom. I should be sorry to believe half of them."
Voldemort's expression was unchanging. "Greatness inspires envy, envy engenders spite, spite spawns lies. You must know this, Dumbledore."
"You call it 'greatness,' what you have been doing, do you?" asked Dumbledore delicately.
"Certainly," said Voldemort. His eyes burned. "I have experimented; I have pushed the boundaries of magic further, perhaps, than they have ever been pushed--"
"Of some kinds of magic, yes," Dumbledore corrected him quietly. "And what of Vera? What have you turned her into?"
And this, it was soon revealed, was Tom's weakness. His impassive face turned to shock and then morphed to anger before he settled on a deadly calm expression. His eyes burned brighter than ever, but they weren't quite red. They were lighter, like a pinkish-red, and they weren't as evil.
"What are you insinuating?" he asked lowly.
"Surely, Tom, you know how powerful she is. That's why you keep her along, isn't it? For her power?" asked Dumbledore, and it took Diana no time at all to recognize what he was doing. He was toying with Tom, baiting him. He knew this would be a sore subject.
And he was right. Tom looked at him with such burning fury that Diana felt as if Dumbledore might catch on fire. Every muscle in Tom seemed to be on edge, like it took every ounce of strength to restrain himself from killing the man across the desk. He clenched his left hand so hard that his knuckles were white.
"Do not ever talk about her like that," he spat forcefully. "Do not ever think that I am using her for my personal gain. I love Vera more than the world, and you will not insult that."
Dumbledore merely smiled at him. "Let's say that I do give you a job here," Dumbledore mused after a moment. "What will happen to those who call themselves--or so rumor has it--the Death Eaters?"
Once again, Tom was not expecting this. His eyes flashed again.
"My friends," he said after a brief pause, "will carry on without me, I am sure."
There was another tense silence, and Dumbledore placed his glass on the desk and drew himself up in his seat so he peered at Tom over his clasped fingers.
"Let us speak openly. Why have you come here tonight to request a job we both know you do not want?"
Voldemort looked coldly surprised. "A job I do not want? On the contrary, Dumbledore, I want it very much."
"Oh, you want to come back to Hogwarts, but you do not want to teach any more than you did when you were eighteen. What is it you're after, Tom? Why not try an open request for once?"
"If you do not want to give me a job--"
"Of course I don't," said Dumbledore at once. "And I don't think for a moment you expected me to. Nevertheless, you came here, you asked, you must have had a purpose."
Voldemort abruptly stood in rage. "This is your final world?"
"It is," said Dumbledore, also standing.
"Then we have nothing more to say to each other."
"No, nothing," said Dumbledore, and a great sadness passed over his face. "The time is long gone when I could frighten you with a burning wardrobe and force you to make repayment for your crimes. But I wish I could, Tom...I wish I could...."
After Voldemort glared for a moment longer, he marched to the door.
"And Tom," called Dumbledore. Tom stopped abruptly and only turned his head slightly, waiting. "Though you and I do not see eye to eye on many, many things, we do share a common interest in the safety of Vera."
Tom bristled slightly, though he did not leave yet.
"I trust you will do all in your power to keep her safe, Tom. And I trust that you understand that if any harm comes to her by your hands, I will not hesitate."
It appeared Tom understood as he was frozen for just a moment before moving to the door and exiting without a word.
With a tug on her arm, they were soaring up to the office from whence they came. She peered at her empty chair that Tom sat in so many years ago, and as she examined it, even it had started to decay since that memory with Tom. In the memory, it was clean and shiny and intact, but now, it was peeling and sagging and ripped.
Tom Riddle really did kill everything he touched.