Although, it had been nine years since she had graduated herself, Frankie continued to glide through the chaos of the castle corridors with confidence and a smile. The passing period swarmed around her, but she gave the madness no second glance. She got several waves from students who thought they knew her as she passed them by. Sometimes she subbed in for teachers while they were ill. Her official title was still Dumbledore's apprentice, but none of the students realized what exactly the job entailed. Students assumed she was an adrenaline-seeking adventurer when she was not stuck teaching their quaint little classes. Jet-setting around the world, finding ancient magical treasures, breaking powerful curses, and taking down dark wizards. It wasn't quite the glamorous position people made it out to be, but it still could've gotten her any other job she wanted. A brilliant young witch like her could've been fighting as an Auror, like her parents and most of her Gryffindor friends. Or she could've been taking over the Magizoology field like her personal heroes. She subbed the most for Kettleburn anyway. Frankie could even get a job at the Ministry and be in line for the next Minister of Magic. Slughorn made strong hints, now that McGregor Bane was finally stepping down, she would be perfect to replace him. Despite the fact she was considered to be a deceitful figure to the public eye of the magical community and far too much of a mysterious enigma to ever be a trusted politician. In Slughorn's not-so-humble opinion, she was wasting away at the school collecting dust under Dumbledore's guidance. There was still so much possibility waiting out there for her. She should've been out changing the world.
Just like Tom was.
"Frankie! Frankie..."
A voice called her name and she swerved around to answer the call but saw no one in the massive crowd of students that flooded the corridor. Someone had placed a nasty hex on Professor Beery and he'd been out in the hospital wing for a full week already. Frankie was filling in for his lessons for the moment, but she had the sneaking suspicion he would not be coming back after this. She looked around the crowd with a slightly worried, distressed look, until suddenly someone put their hand on her shoulder.
"Slow down! I'm not as nimble as I used to be, ya' know."
It was Professor Rodger Day. He was staring at her with his different colored eyes through a pair of reading glasses that almost managed to make him look scholarly. His position had not quite made him the responsible man of dignity and refinement that Frankie thought it would. She sighed and rubbed her temple, slightly debating trying to disappear into the crowd and escape his clutches. She already had a headache from a full day and talking to Rodger would just make it worse.
"Don't act like I haven't seen you rush to a meal before, Rodger. You're still nearly identical to that seventeen-year-old boy I used to know." she replied in rebuttal, with a cheeky sort of grin.
"I couldn't tell if that was meant to be a compliment or not." he pouted, much like that boy would've. "How was standing in for Professor Beery today?"
"Horrible. Those Mandrakes are terribly loud, even with earmuffs."
"I've always hated those little beasts. I nearly lost a finger to one when I was in Beery's class."
"I bet he told you it was your fault too."
"Naturally."
"They're very cute, though."
"Yeah, if you like fat, chubby, dirt blobs." he laughed at her. She cracked a small smile and chuckled. The halls were starting to thin, and Rodger looked around as if he was finally noticing they were walking the opposite direction of everyone else. "Are you walking back to your room?"
"Yes, I don't feel like supper tonight and I promised Slughorn I'd help him with grading some of the potions exams."
"Don't forget you agreed to take over detention duty for me later as well."
"I haven't! I'll be there."
"Allow me to escort you to your room then."
They walked down the corridor discussing mundane things like certain problem students and the rest of the upcoming exam schedule, until they reached the deserted hall her room was located in. Frankie waved Rodger goodbye and knocked on the picture frame three times and waited. The picture that guarded her room was a wizard named Smith. He often claimed he had other frames in different time periods, to explain to her why he often was out of his frame. But Frankie knew that he often liked to chat with a portrait of a girl down the hall. He also made the bold claim that he invented the Time Turner. She found it hard to believe that such an important wizard was left sitting in her hallway.
"I need to get in." Frankie added, after he appeared in the frame.
"What's the magic word?"
"Don't give me that, Smith. You know it's me."
"You could be an impostor for all I know," he argued. Frankie gave him a skeptical look, before she resorted to breaking out her pleading puppy dog eyes. Smith sighed. "Fine, just this once..."
Frankie nodded in agreement, although this was the 50th 'Just this once' since the month began. She always remembered the password they'd agreed upon but liked this arrangement much better. An impersonator would be expecting a password. Smith opened to reveal a long set of spiraling stairs and she started her slow descent up. Frankie reached the top in an exhausted huff, despite having to climb the same stairs every day, and sat down while she searched for her key in her bag. She found the old fashion key amongst the scrolls and bottles of ink about five minutes into her search and rushed to open the wooden door. She entered and sat down at her desk, letting out a great sigh. She hesitated a moment before she decided to open one of the drawers. Frankie opened the upper left drawer halfway, until she realized the exams, she'd collected from Slughorn were not in that drawer, but were hiding in the scattered debris of her desk. She was about to close it when the contents caught her eye. Inside the drawer was a fat stack of old, yellowing letters and notes. All of them were from Tom Riddle.
It had been five years since she had last seen him.
They had still kept in contact, of course, and kept up with their little pub visits for a while. However, Tom had somewhat of a promotion at Borgin and Burkes. They were finally letting him go off and collect stuff for the shop. Frankie didn't feel like that was much of a bonus to the already lackluster job position, however, he seemed a lot happier there. It allowed him to travel a bit more at least. Unfortunately, for her, that meant he was further away and busier than ever. Both had become really hectic with their lives. Frankie understood visits were nearly impossible to arrange, but they still sent as many letters as they could. Sometimes she even braved a chat with him via the Floo Network, but it was too complicated to coordinate Twilit's delivery times with their brimmingly full schedules.
Eventually, after a while of trying to make it work, Tom's letters had started growing scarce and had even less text than before. Then, suddenly, they had stopped coming all together. Frankie walked over to her bed with the letters and collapsed onto the comforter. She untied the ribbon, took the bottom most letter from the stack and started reading,
"July 16th, 1943
Dear Frankie,
I'm having somewhat of an enjoyable time here in Little Hangleton. My uncle and my grandfather are...quite odd. There's still a lot of old wizarding customs I have to get used to. However, they've told me some wonderful things about my mother. She wasn't much of a witch, but apparently, she was a very bright person. She sounds absolutely nothing like me, besides the magic. I guess I'm mostly like my father after all.
On a different note, your damn owl is giving me a massive headache. He will not be silent, and he doesn't seem to ever sleep. I woke up at five in the morning today because of him. He's also been nipping at my fingers while I'm trying to write. Why is he like this? Didn't they have any normal owls in stock? I suppose they don't get too much business in that branch with all the muggles in town. He's unique, that's for sure. I think he suits you, despite his oddities, and I'm glad we'll be able to talk now when we aren't with each other. Although, to be honest, I really don't think we'll ever be parted again..."
She pouted and stopped reading, clearly not having remembered him saying something so ironic. This was what was left of him, besides a mangy stuffed rabbit and a few old pictures. All the letters he had written her since they were sixteen. They were the only things that would ever prove Tom Riddle had really existed. Frankie sat alone in her room, feeling like such a sentimental fool, for reading over his letters in her spare time and smiling at all the memories they brought with them. Tom probably wouldn't have liked that. He'd always been under the same opinion as Slughorn that she was never meant to be hidden from the world. He also probably wouldn't like the fact she was pack-ratting all these old letters in the first place, scanning them for some kind of sign. But, Frankie just couldn't help it. She had little else to hold onto other than her memories and those had never been so reliable to begin with. While she'd never completely forget him, certain details she'd always known so clearly were beginning to grow hazy. His voice was fading and the only thing that preserved them perfectly were the letters. If she threw them away, it would feel as though she'd be erasing someone precious to her from existence forever and she didn't want to destroy him. She wanted to find him again. Their separation was never meant to be permanent.
Where are you, Tom? Why won't you answer me anymore?
The last letter Frankie had received from him was nearly four years ago and nothing seemed off about it. He detailed a story from the Ministry that he'd heard secondhand from Peter, complained about his boss and how much he wanted to quit, and ended it by once again expressing how dearly he missed her. According to the letter, it wouldn't be long until they were together again. She reread the parchment over several times, looking for runes and ciphers, as if Tom were trying to send her on a magical adventure quest and this letter was the first clue. Frankie had been growing more anxious as the chunk of time grew larger. She had sent her reply back straight away. How long was she supposed to wait for a reply before she gave up hope all together? Surely, she was way past the expiration date of waiting by this point. Where did he go? Did he want her to go after him? Was all this a tactic to get her out of the school? Tom had promised he was going to come back. Did he intend to break this promise, or was that always just another lie?
Despite the fact, he was all Frankie wanted to think about some days, she had adult responsibilities and work to do now. She couldn't spend hours sighing over some ill-fated romance that had gone sour. So, she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind, tied up the letters again and pushed them into her desk drawer. Then, she fished the exams out of one of the piles on her desk and started the grading. Frankie had gotten two of them done when she suddenly remembered she was also supposed to be running detention. It would just be her and Emmeline Van Dort, a second-year girl, who'd put a plump slug in another girl's hair for teasing her. Frankie grabbed what she would need and ran back down the stairs and out the portrait again. Thankfully, she found Emmeline waiting in front of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.
"You're late, ya' know?"
"I'm sorry!"
The detention for students wasn't very harsh under Frankie's management. It was mostly just her talking with them while enjoying a nice cup of tea, which was coincidentally exactly what she needed to try and sooth her aching head and keep her mind off Tom. After scraping off Rodger's cluttering debris, they sat at his desk, chatting and waiting for the tea to brew.
"Professor, you don't seem as old as all the other professors. Why is that?"
"What about Professor Day? He's still pretty young, right? He was my prefect."
"Well, I suppose. However, you look barely older then all of us. You could pass for a sixth year if you really wanted too."
"I shouldn't really, but I don't think this place allows you to age," she answered, mystically. Frankie sighed and took a sip of her tea. She felt older sometimes, but most of the times she felt like she wasn't growing older at all. "I've stayed here practically since I was a student myself."
"Has it changed much?"
"Other than the students, I suppose not. This school doesn't like change..." Frankie sighed, talking as if the place was alive. The only thing missing here, the only thing that was different, was that all her friends and classmates were gone. Suddenly, there was a clicking on the window and they both turned in a small panic. A barn owl was pecking at the window, glaring at them to let him in. Emmeline got up and rushed to open the window. The owl glided in, dropping the letter in Emmeline's hand, before perching itself onto the desk. Emmeline tore the letter open and started to read.
"Oh, is it important?" Frankie inquired, noticing how she had torn it open with such urgency.
"Of course, every letter he sends me is important." Emmeline answered, trying to read it and focus on what Frankie was saying at the same time.
"Who? Your father?"
"No, Edorius—You know Edorius Scamander of Hufflepuff, don't you? He says you're close with his father."
"He sends you letters? But you're in the same classes."
"Well, he practically never gets any mail. Ya' know his father gets very busy with his creature studies. So, I thought I'd send him letters to help him feel better," Emmeline explained. "It used to be a one-way deal, but this year we don't have as many classes like we used to. So, we've started sending the letters back-and-forth to each other."
"I used to have a friend who'd send letters to me too." Frankie smiled, at the memories. She could remember each letter clearly, having just read them over once more. They had brought Tom back into her mind once again. He could not be forgotten, even though he was gone. "Whenever we were apart, we'd write letters until we were together again."
"Sounds nice."
"It was. His name was Tom Riddle. I knew him before we came to school, and we got put into separate houses. We didn't want to grow apart so we'd send floating paper cranes and such, even though we had most classes together." Frankie explained, sounding rather excited. She rarely did ever get a chance to talk about her memories with Tom. They just got bottled up and stowed away. Emmeline looked at her like she wanted to say something but did not answer right away. She was obviously conflicted. "What is it dear?"
"I don't know it's just something seems very familiar about that name, like I've heard it recently somewhere."
"Well, I'm sure Slughorn talks about him every so often. We used to be two of his favorites back in our year. Then, there's that award he has in the trophy room and he's on the list of Head Boys—"
"Was he really someone that brilliant?"
"The most brilliant in our year! The most brilliant boy I've ever known..."
"Emma!" a voice called from the hall. A curly haired boy rushed in, his Hufflepuff tie all askew. After just speaking of him, it was Edorius Scamander in the flesh. Emmeline ran over to meet him immediately.
"What are you doing here? I just got your note. Weren't you studying in the library for the Care of Magical Creatures exam?"
"Yes, but then I saw Professor Dumbledore and he told me to tell Professor Dickson that he would like to speak with her immediately." Edorius explained, pointing at Frankie.
"Really? It sounds very important." Frankie remarked, looking surprised. Dumbledore didn't usually call her into his office. Something was wrong. "Right then—off you two go."
"My dad says 'hi' by the way, professor. He's planning a new trip this summer and is hoping you might look after a few friends for him while he's away."
"I'll send Twilit along with my answer shortly."
"Come along, Emma." Edorius sighed, extending his hand to her. Emmeline took it and they left. Frankie froze as the two transformed into her and Tom walking out into the corridor. Tom would often say that to her, as if she was not allowed to move without his say so. "Come along, idiot..." She stared from the doorway as the ghost like memories ran with the two down the hallway. After they disappeared, she picked up her empty tea pot and cups and made her way to Dumbledore's office.
"You wanted to see me, Dumbledore?"
"Yes, there are a couple important things we must discuss," he answered, peering up at her from his half-moon spectacles. Frankie closed the door behind her and sat in one of the seats in front of his desk, like she was a student again. "Firstly, Minerva will be taking over as the Transfiguration teacher starting next year."
"What will become of you then, professor?" she asked, curiously. Although, she was more than a little disappointed about not being offered the job, the feeling quickly faded upon the realization Minerva would be back with them again.
"I will be becoming the new Headmaster and replacing Professor Dippet." Dumbledore replied.
"That's fantastic news, sir. Congratulations!" Frankie gasped.
"Thank you, I look forward to running the school." Dumbledore smiled. Frankie got the sense he was more pleased with the appointment then he was letting on. While it may have never been his dream job, he clearly fit seamlessly into the structure of the school. The promotion made complete sense. It was hard to imagine Hogwarts without him, even short of the appointment to Headmaster. When Frankie thought about all the times she struggled here, Dumbledore was always there to help. "Minerva will be arriving in about a week, as soon as the term ends, and will be joining us over the summer."
Frankie nodded and made herself a mental note to tell Ogg and Hagrid about it when they checked on the Thestrals later that evening. Between Minerva's return and having the honor of being critter babysitter for Newt Scamander, the summer holiday was shaping up to be grand already. "—Now, for the second piece of business. There is someone else here to see you. They've been waiting in the library for a while now."
"Is that it?" she asked, sounding rather confused. That couldn't have been all Dumbledore wished to discuss with her. The call had sounded a little more urgent for some reason. So, what else was there?
"Yes, that is all..."
Frankie left reluctantly and started to head towards the library. He wasn't telling her something important. She knew him well enough by now to know when he was keeping something from her. She entered the library to see not only one, but two people sitting at one of the tables. The short mousy haired girl and broad man could barely be seen above what looked to be a muggle newspaper instead of the Daily Prophet, but Frankie recognized the two right away. They noticed her arrival and they got up to greet their old friend. Peter gave her a quick hug, while she and Ellyn stood hugging each other for at least a full minute straight.
"I'm so glad to see you both. What are you two doing here?" Frankie exclaimed.
"We're here to review some of the many changes happening to the school. I'm sure Dumbledore has told you already." Peter answered.
"Ah yes, he just told me. Isn't it exciting?" Frankie grinned.
"It is, but I just wish it didn't require so much paperwork on our end." Peter sighed, sounding utterly exhausted.
"Quit your complaining, Peter, dear. Remember, you love your job." Ellyn remarked, with a rather forced smile.
"So, what's new in the world?" Frankie asked, as they all began to settle back down at the table.
"Well, Abraxas Malfoy has just had a son—So, get ready to have to deal with that in ten years..."
They all got trapped in conversation between old friends for what seemed like ages. Nostalgia brought back so many memories and so many people. However, for some reason, a certain person never came up. The person who was always sort of the pivotal piece of their friendship. Why had he not been brought up yet? Frankie felt as if they were dodging him intentionally and, naturally, she had to find out why.
"Oh, I wish Tom were here to see you two..." Frankie added, with an empty sort of smile. "Have you seen him by any chance lately? He stopped writing me a while back. I figured that he's finally taken up Slughorn's offer to get him a job at the Ministry and has gotten far too busy for me."
"Frankie..." Ellyn muttered. Her worried demeanor had returned in a second and she started fiddling with her hands in her lap. "Have you had the chance to read the latest Prophet yet?"
"No, actually. It's rather strange in fact. Every time I try to read a copy, it disappears from my hands." Frankie replied, adding a sort of 'poof' gesture with her hands to express the disappearance. She'd put it down for just a moment, go break up a duel, or deal with the chaos and sometimes she'd just look away for a split second with the paper in her hand. She quickly chocked it up to an uninspired prank, simply devoted to making sure she didn't fill her head with the daily dose of garbage. As usual, she just blamed Rodger and went on with her daily schedule. She thought it was kind of nice being out of the loop of the larger wizarding world. It was much less stressful. However, her two old friends exchanged a knowing look and began whispering amongst themselves.
"Should we—"
"Well, she's going to see it eventually. Especially now that we've brought it up."
"—But."
"She needs to know what has happened. What is happening out there."
"Yes, of course." Peter finally agreed, with a stressed sigh. He retrieved the Prophet from his satchel and placed it in front of her. She stared at it with puzzlement and confusion. What could they have been talking about? What was so bad they had to argue on whether to tell her or not? "Here, Frankie..."
"The Strange Disappearances Keep on Coming."
The sudden vanishing of witches and wizards have been sweeping the entire world and are growing more and more every day. It is no secret by now that something has gone seriously amiss in our society. The daily disappearances of objects and people is starting to appear more serious as the size increases. Last week, dragons were reported missing in Bulgaria and have yet to be found. As of people, a few of the high-level officials from our own Ministry were taken. All of them were reported to make no indication that they were ever planning on leaving and their homes have been checked. Some other wizards have been reported missing for several months without sign or trace and are most likely presumed to be dead at this point. Although, we are still unaware of this phenomenon's exact cause, we are aware that if it does not stop soon, the wizarding world will be in great turmoil..."
Below the article was a list of the confirmed missing people. Frankie was skimming the list when she let out an audible gasp. She had clearly seen what they were heavily debating on showing her. Second row, seventh name down:
Tom Marvolo Riddle
"Something bad is going on out there in the world right now and this is only the beginning." Peter remarked, sounding worried but serious. However, Frankie didn't care about the rest of the world, or any of the other disappearances. There was only one that really mattered, and it was suddenly clear why they hesitated to show it to her. "If Tom is really gone—"
"—This can't be real. He just can't disappear. He just can't..."
A cold bunch of paper rolled together and printed was telling her that the most important person in her life was not only completely wiped off the map but was most likely dead at this point. She tore the Daily Prophet into shreds and those shreds into even more shreds, before storming out altogether.
Frankie ran down the darkening corridors with tremendous speed, not quite sure as to where she was going but to only get as far away from the library as she could. Then, when she found a satisfying spot, she couldn't help but curl up into a ball and continue with her panic attack. It all made sense now. It could be a lie, like the Prophet usually was, but there was always the chance of it being true. He wasn't there to tell her otherwise. Surely, if it weren't true, Tom would have a fit to the editor, or at least write her assuring her it was all a huge bunch of lies. However, he hadn't done either.
"The Prophet has been known to be a bit false, my dear. Please do not fret so much." A voice added, from behind her. She turned to find Dumbledore standing, looking comforting and fatherly. However, Frankie didn't feel like talking to him, like she could've with an actual father figure, she felt like screaming at him. He had known and hadn't told her. He'd even gone as far as to try and conceal the truth from her. He should've known by now how dangerous it was to lie to her. Peter and Ellyn came running up beside him before she could mutter a single curse word at him.
"Frankie! Please don't worry. I'm sure he's alright."
"There's no way Tom—"
"Let's just drop it. It's fine. I'm going to bed now..." Frankie boomed, over all of them. She glared at them and turned away, clearly tired and annoyed at all the words of encouragement. It had been the same when she had thought Tom was dead the first time. She had experienced all the same comforting words before and this time they just made her feel sick. Tom had made it quite clear, whether he was dead or alive, he did not care enough about her to have contacted her. The Prophet was recent, but it had been years since Frankie had received so much as a letter. She had done more than enough waiting and gone through far too much grief. He had broken his promise. It was time to deal with that fact and stop waiting around for him.
She stormed up to her room, going through a whirl of different emotions on the long climb up. In one moment, just wanting to curl up in bed and cry, in another wanting to leave and find out the truth for herself. However, when Frankie reached the door any sadness, or skepticism, about the matter was drained. All that was left was anger. Why should she feel sad? Why should she follow after a dead man? He didn't deserve it. She grabbed the stack of his letters and tossed them all into her trash basket. That didn't seem to be enough, though. The anger still burned.
"Incendio!"
The letters blackened and curled with her anger and Tom Riddle burned with them. Even though she was supposed to be afraid of such poorly contained flames after her past, Frankie watched them perplexed with dead eyes. She grabbed the pictures next. The frame shattered and the handsome boy whispering in her ear was quickly burned away. She could nearly see his perfect porcelain face burning in the fire. His eyes were turning red, disintegrating in agony, and growing into an ugly, distorted mess. However, it still wasn't enough. He begged her to save him and a part of her still wanted to. Everything had to go. Rue had to die too if she truly wanted to be rid of him. Frankie grabbed the stuffed rabbit and held her over the flames. She should've been able to drop it without hesitation, but part of her fought. That small part of her wanted to stop the fire and save everything she had already burned away, even though it was too late. Save Tom. It forced her to remember the moment he gave her Rue. The slight nervous look he got on his face, wondering what she would think, the rambling of why he chose it just for her in an effort to disguise the true reason being that he loved her. That wretched part of her saved Rue. The letters could perish, but not this. Frankie hugged the rabbit tightly and silently continued to watch, wishing, wherever Tom Riddle was, he was burning.