60|| Bishop to A6
Hermione Granger is surprised by a paradox in itself: that few people have recognized Tom Riddle, yet so many have. Of course, she could see Ollivander's remembrance of the boy, the wandmaker being especially sharp with names and faces, but Griphook acted as more of a surprise. And now, Aberforth has recognized the existence of Tom Riddle within this era. She cannot remember an instance where this Dumbledore would have seen the human-looking Dark Lord, but Hermione does not know Aberforth's life story.
And yet, this is not the moment to make another spectacle of Tom's duplicated existence in the 1990s, having a horcrux to find and school to enter. And thus, she finds her voice within the warm confines of the Hog's Head, stating "This is not about Tom. This is about stopping You-Know-Who."
Which is, of course, the stark truth of the matter, if details are dwindled down to mundane fact. But Harry's never been one for factual material, so stuffed with emotional baggage left to him by his dead family. He looks completely conflicted by Aberforth's verbal attack against himself and Dumbledore, if not Tom Riddle. But the first and last are of little matter, for this is not a war of the living, but the dead. They seek vengeance as much as they seek righteousness, for in some ways, the revenge is right.
Albus Dumbledore--even without Harry knowing all that he does now--was an enigma of convoluted secrets through the bespectacled eyes of the Boy Who Lived. Nonetheless, he trusted the man completely and fully, to save them all and do what was right. And though much has changed through reading--as knowledge often prompts--Harry cannot forgo that relationship still strung along by responsibility and legacy.
"I trusted him because I need to," Harry uneasily responds, his green eyes gleaming solidly against the darker Dumbledore. "Because if I don't, I don't know who I am anymore. I've lost too many people to lie down now. I'm not interested in what happened between you and your brother, I don't even care that you've given up. I trust the man I knew. I'm going to see this through...I need to get into the Castle tonight."
If nothing else, Tom Riddle appreciates Harry Potter for his convictions, almost like himself. Sure, the boy is swamped with Gryffindor characteristics of brazen idiocracy and stubborn pride, but so is Hermione to some extent. Likeness only extends so far, but Harry is not one to fit within the lines of 'likes.' He is fighting for what is right for the Wizarding World, not for himself because surely then he'd have given up. And as little as that touches Tom's heart--to be so righteous--the conviction and warrior within Harry Potter is admirable.
Almost waiting for a firestorm, Hermione, Ron, and Tom exchange a worried glance towards Aberforth, his stormy blue eyes in an upheaval of betrayal and darkness. Many would cower under the look he sends Harry, and yet, Tom is certain in the Boy Who Lived's strength.
Those blue eyes that give the Golden Trio mourning pains and set Tom's stomach quivering shift from the green eyes of the boy savior, to his little sister who is truly that little. Softly and with a kindness he lacks with the remainder of them, Aberforth grants Harry's request: "You know what to do..."
With a look of both innocence and mischief that might've taken her from Gryffindor, Ariana nods and smiles at the directions of her older brother, turning on her small heel and back into the painting. In its dreary background, the girl becomes smaller and smaller, altogether disappearing as the others stare warily, wondering where she travels and for what purpose. Harry wants to hope that Aberforth is committed to their righteous cause, but if he is, it's likely not due to Albus himself.
"Where've you sent her?" the Boy Who Lived asks, turning to the blue-eyed man who meets his gaze with more composure, the acid of his eyes neutralized by the base of his sister and home.
"You'll see soon enough."
The air seems to lighten around them, no longer bogged by the notion of Albus Dumbledore's insipid actions, or so Tom assumes. And though it is particularly less awkward, Hermione cannot help her curiosity that might just drag back the tension. She asks, "That's Ariana, isn't it? Your sister. She's beautiful."
Almost changing his personality to the likes of his sister, Aberforth gazes off in remembrance, remarking, "She'll always be beautiful."
Harry and Ron, both confused, share a baffled look of pure curiosity, evident to the others yet unremarked upon. Tom, on the other hand, cannot quite hold back his disgust at the almost infatuated tone of the brother towards his sister. And though he cannot quite relate--given he has no siblings (thank Merlin)--Tom doubts that is a normal relationship between two family members.
"She died very young, didn't she?" Hermione questions, remembering the girl's age from her grave, but not wishing for Aberforth to see Tom's facade of disgust if they are to stay safe in this bar.
Silence sits upon their shoulders at the most unneeded question of the night, Aberforth seeming to tense again under a remembrance of Albus Dumbledore: "My brother sacrificed many things, Mr. Potter, in his journey to find power, including her. She was devoted to him--he gave her everything, but time."
He does not know when it changes--it might very well be this moment--but Tom Riddle finds himself not longer despising Albus Dumbledore, the one who made his old life difficult. Tom wants to think it is a long time coming--if for no other reason than to fit with the others' perceptions, a strange concept. But whatever the time, it is clear Tom is not so inclined to hate, loath, or envy the man, but to respect him in the most petty of ways...because he deserves the respect. Maybe it's because Albus Dumbledore is no longer the perfect figure of morality and righteousness, but sinful in his personal life and deceptive in his magic. Dumbledore is more like Tom than he would ever have admitted, a notion that is more promising to the previous Dark Lord than any other: that he can make good of himself even at an older age. Or perhaps, it is selfishly what Dumbledore did for Tom--send him forward to where he belongs. Both dark at a young age, and both removed from love, Albus Dumbledore seems particularly similar to Tom Riddle.
And perhaps, that is why Tom defends the older, now dead, wizard from his own brother: "We all make our mistakes. Albus made his, and I made mine. You are no different. Your brother gave me a chance, and--at least in my mind--that is a great deal of redemption."
Almost matched in mental frequency, Harry and Ron are startled by Tom's potent defense of his old enemy in Albus Dumbledore. The previous Headmaster always spoke of the horrors of the boy, of his darkness and dangerous ways and nothing ever positive. So it is strange that Tom Riddle--who should hate his old professor simply because of the man's hatred for him--now defends his honor. And Hermione is no more surprised, the girl's honey eyes seeking out his own for Tom's realization, wanting to listen in but unable to see his face properly. He does not turn to her, but continues to look at Aberforth, the wizard gazing warily and dislikingly on the previous Dark Lord.
Not wishing to continue this--maybe because he will never win--Aberforth turns to the picture frame, coated in more dust than paint and now absent of a figure or interest. Hermione seems unsteady in the gaze Tom refuses to share with her, only barely managing to hide her huff of irritation before turning to Aberforth with eyes of a different emotion, knowing it necessary.
"Mr. Dumbledore, thank you," her voice sings, the man turning to her with a fierce expression which she refuses to cower at. Hermione's eyed down the Dark Lord at his youthful worst, surely Aberforth cannot be more terrifying. But he can be different, those blue eyes not absorbing emotion like Tom's did, but reflective of her own emotions in a dissimilar intimidation tactic, intended or not. She sees her fear, anger, and melancholy like passionate imagery, but she also sees Tom watching in the background.
Nodding simply, the man swings from the room without the sweep of a cloak like Tom's would if given the clothing. Ron eyes Hermione with question, obviously wondering why she gave her gratefulness to the man when Ron cannot see much to be thankful for. Tom rolls his eyes; ungrateful prat.
"Did save our lives twice. Kept an eye on us in that mirror," Hermione almost sasses testily, only revealing her truth with a rhetorical question, "That doesn't seem like someone who's given up, does it?"
No response is needed since they all know Hermione is right. Instead, Tom grins toothlessly down at Hermione, consciously brushing his hand against her fingers, like a snake's rattle that taunts. Feeling the look, Hermione moves her eyes upward with a questioning expression to his playful intentions, the small touches being all too much for her heart, yet warming to her cold skin. If he's meant to answer, Tom does it slyly, grinning mischievously at her smaller form with every bit of Slytherin wit. And yet, in those dark eyes lurks the gleam of adoration, reserved for one individual both here and there.
Some minutes pass in an awkward bit of handsy, Ron and Harry ignorant to the movements as they wait for Aberforth to return with news, as their expectations go. And yet, the doorway stays empty to their attentions, only a spider climbing through and much to the distaste of Ron who almost squirms and panics. Harry wants to laugh at him and Ron wants to curse the creature, but it is then that Hermione perceives the animated movement of a portrait from the corner of her eye.
"She's coming back!" Hermione exclaims, drawing the other eyes in the room towards the large portrait and a surprised accompaniment of Ariana Dumbledore. "And she's got someone with her!"
It's not quite clear who it is, the happening so strange for even the wizarding kind. With the dark lit background and deep setting of the scene, Ron asks what they are all thinking, "Who's that with her?"
But with time, it becomes clear to their eyes, as it does for the boy himself.
"Bloody hell..." it's Ron to remark.
The brown-haired boy, lanky and bloodied, limping and pale, is none other than a physically worn Neville Longbottom, so drastically different from his First Year and even Sixth Year selves. And when they recognize him, he recognizes them, his eyes widening in realization and his pace increasing rapidly.
"I knew you'd come! I told them all! Harry Potter would never abandon Hogwarts!" The boy is a gem of a follower, Tom Riddle must acknowledge as the first thought to cross his mind. So loyal and confident, Neville seems more like a Hufflepuff than a Gryffindor, but from the stories Hermione told him, the boy's found his rightful place in Godric's house. Thinking of it now, Tom Riddle knows he was a bit idiotic to choose his followers from a house of selfish students, not those of loyalty or charity.
"Neville," Hermione's weakened voice shivers softly through Tom's chest, a breath of fresh air to his lungs despite being expelled from her own. All he wants to do is look at Hermione for her reaction, but the portrait is opening to the war-torn boy, even more so than this Golden Trio. Harry stands nearest the swinging gilded frame, a tunnel dug behind it in a sure reflection of what the painting showed, minus Ariana, of course.
Neville and Harry move closer to one another, embracing tightly in what ought to be a bloody hug from both boys who faced great trials. From the passageway and into the room, Neville is revealed to the light in the most tremendous of ways, the shadows playing on his swollen eyes, deep cuts, and torn clothing, whereas the light places tribute to the greasy and long hair and dirty skin.
"Neville, you look..." Harry, always guilty, tries to manage a bit of reconciliation through the shock, but it serves to be an unneeded medium.
"Like hell?" the boy quips, as if his injuries are not pains to his body, but something to laugh over in a recited play. "I reckon. This is nothing. Seamus is worse. You'll see." Turning away from the Golden Boy, Neville is expectant and pleased to see the remainder of the trio, eyes shocked and joyous all at once. "Hermione! Ron!"
It's been long forgotten to mind the blood stains on shirts, the whole experience worth the while when wrapped in the arms of a fellow soldier. Neville's grin is unmatched with their cold, and tired visages, a true spark to a revolution if Tom's read anything of their power.
But it is then that the boy turns to Tom, his eyes widening only slightly in recognition of a fourth teen on their journey, asking the others, "Who's this?"
"This is Tom..." Hermione stalls, not knowing if it's a betrayal to their friends to lie of Tom's identity. "He uhh--"
"Any friend of Harry's is a friend of mine," Neville is quick to say, noticing Hermione's uneasiness and not caring as far as his words span. If Harry trusts this Tom, so will Neville. And though it is not requested or necessarily needed, Tom cannot help sending the boy a wide smile, genuine in some respect and more thankful to others.
"I think that's the warmest greeting I've received," Tom remarks instead of a grateful notion, simply unfitting of his character. He nods at the battered Gryffindor, recounting all he's received as a greeting: at least six wands, one looney editor, a jealous boy, and a drunk Malfoy. Yes, he likes Neville far too much.
A scoff sounds from the door at Neville's words of welcome, revealing none other than the expected Aberforth who looks disinclined to look at Tom with anything more than contempt. Yet all the same, Neville smiles.
"Hey, Ab," the boy greets, obviously connected for unknown reasons through this tunnel. "There might be a couple more people on the way."
With the silence, the Golden Trio-plus-one turn back to Neville, the boy still smiling in the most contagious of ways. And though they cannot match its magnitude, they do grin in a slight amount, grins scarred by the horrors of their experiences and of the simple time in which they live.
"Well? Ready?"
All Harry has to do is wave at the boy, and they are leaping up and into the tunnel, behind the portrait and away from the grumpy Aberforth Dumbledore. Especially dusty and requiring of light, the five travel through the grounds--or so Tom assumes--and towards the Castle with some luck to the location where they ended up. With wands raised and feet moving, the light scatters across their bodies, playing with shadows and highlights of glinted light.
"I don't remember this being on the Marauder's Map," Ron remarks, surely having been told by Harry or his brothers of all the passages, in one way or another.
"That's because it never existed till now," Neville explains, "The seven secret passages were sealed off before the start of the year. This is the only way in or out now. The grounds are crawling with Death Eaters and dementors."
It sounds familiar to the Trio, and even to Tom Riddle, having experienced at least the dementors on the school grounds. A shiver runs up their backs at the notion, the recent experience far too near for comfort, and none of the five ever wishing to face the ghouls at such a time again.
But that is not what concerns Hermione. Rather, she worries about the thinking beasts marching towards them, an army of Death Eaters and a school run by their lot. Softly, she wonders aloud, "How bad is it, Neville? With Snape as Headmaster."
"Hardly ever see him," Neville says, a shock to the trio's expectations of the commanding and overwhelming teacher. "It's the Carrows you have to watch out for."
"The Carrows?" asks Harry.
"They're a wizarding family historically associated with the Dark Arts," Tom remarks, scrunching his nose at the reminder of that family from his years at Hogwarts, years ahead of him but illogically cruel to all houses. Apparently, cruelty runs in the family.
"Brother and sister. They're in charge of discipline," Neville continues with more recent information of the family, not taking notice of Tom's strange knowledge. "Like punishment, the Carrows."
The gash on his face is a sure sign of that.
"They did that to you? But why?" Hermione anxiously asks, almost frantic in her tone after what she has faced. Why did Bellatrix Lestrange cut Hermione? Because they can by law and morals.
But, if even possible, Neville's reasoning proves to be worse, "Today's Dark Arts lesson had us practicing the Cruciatus Curse. On First Years. I refused. Hogwarts has changed."
As have the Death Eaters. Not even Tom Marvolo Riddle had the gall to curse First Years with the Cruciatus, simply due to their lack of investment in his organization and no wish for their help. Tom only ever cursed those who worked for him and consequently, acted against him in some way. He would never unnecessarily curse a First Year, and surely then, the Knights of Walpurgis would not.
But Neville grins all the same, obviously facing some post traumatic stress disorder from attending Hogwarts. "Aw, c'mon. Don't be grim. We're all used to it by now. And the thing is, it helps when people stand up, gives everyone hope. I used to notice that when you did it, Harry. C'mon, we're almost there."
It's a load to take onto their shoulders: what their loyal friends have faced in consequence of their connection to Harry Potter. And as much as they need to brood on the knowledge, it does not serve their purposes to mourn, simply for its diluting effects. And thus, Ron moves them away from the conversation, remembering, "Tom, you produced a Patronus. I thought it impossible."
"It's fallible when one does not possess happiness. Hermione helped me," Tom explains pedagogically, although Hermione seems to feel the emotional tug as she blushes crimson in the white light of the Lumos spell. And in that same light, Tom notices with a grin that Ron is scowling at their relationship, jealousy failing to be smothered in great part.
"It was still a Basilisk," the boy snarls, still unfit to accept his lacking position in romance with Hermione, avidly jealous and worried about the boy of her current attentions. Hermione, he is still the Heir to Slytherin, a boy who's done bad things.
But she seems unfit to accept Tom as an evil person simply because he's done some evil things. It's a decision of great importance, to forsake what he was for what he is, but it's one Tom made some days ago at Shell Cottage. It was his past, and Hermione ought to move on when he's close to forgiven.
And she gives that to him in the most playful of ways, a beautiful thing to his Slytherin spirit. "Otters have been known to eat snakes," she defends Tom, the boy turning to grin down at her and her blush, Ron huffing with every bit of dilemma in his heart.
Almost tripping, but never revealing as much, Tom startles at the stairs rising above them, closer to the surface with every sense of certainty. And, overcoming the curve and height, they are revealed to a door, one that leads to Hogwarts and a change that is less than welcome.
"Let's have a bit of fun, shall we?" Neville grins at them before pushing open the door and stepping inside, sure to hide the remaining four in the passageway behind him. "Hey! Listen up, you lot! I've brought you a surprise!"
"Not more of Aberforth's cooking, I hope. Be a surprise if we could digest it," Seamus quips from inside, and Tom cannot help agreeing, the meat having been more leather than burger.
But it's a begotten thought as Neville jerks his head to the shadowed door, their sign to enter Hogwarts and leave the passageway that once kept them out. And though it is a mere moment of hesitation that both Hermione and Tom take, they find themselves no longer stepping into Hogwarts, their school. But now, they return home, fifty years away.
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