╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗
CONCEDE AND CONSIDER
╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝
MARINA TURNED THE page of her book and read the next paragraph intently.
'Parseltongue more heavily relies on intonation and context to express concepts, rather than other languages which combine specific vocabulary with grammar to convey meaning. This feature is why Parseltongue is so rarely taught successfully – those born with the natural ability to distinguish the minute tonal differences of the language have an immeasurable advantage over those attempting to find meaning in a relatively monotonous hissing sound.'
The passage's mentioning of natural born Parselmouths, like all those before it, reminded Marina of Riddle. Marina hadn't seen Riddle in weeks – as soon as they had gotten out of hospital, Dumbledore had sent him to stay with Moody, and had arranged a new job for Marina in Diagon Alley working in the Magical Menagerie. Verna, the stern, greying witch who ran the place didn't care that she couldn't do magic, only that she kept the animals fed and happy, and dealt with the odd customer when things were busy. Marina's lodgings had been relocated to a small room at the top of the Leakey Cauldron where her plant collection was scattered around the various spots that received the most sunlight.
Marina liked the shop, she liked the cats and owls, the rats and pygmy puffs, she especially liked the little bats with their pointy faces and fluffy bodies. She even liked Verna, in a way perhaps only Verna could be liked – her gruff, blunt exterior was reassuring, she said exactly what she was thinking, and you could always tell when it was break time because clouds of noxious purple smoke would come wafting past the back room where the old witch was sitting outside puffing on a long pipe. The shop was nice, exploring Diagon Alley was nice, her room at the Leakey Cauldron was nice, but something was missing.
Riddle had been right – she was lonely. It ate away at her in the slow, wilting way that loneliness does, slowly gaining the smallest centimetre of her heart each day. Being isolated from everyone wasn't helping, especially after her and Riddle had started having real conversations on the ward whilst they were stuck there.
Just then, the clock on the far wall of Obscurus Books chimed and Marina looked up in shock. She swore – she only had three minutes to get back to the other end of Diagon Alley. She wrenched herself from the chair and raced up to the counter.
"Just this, please," she said hastily to the shopkeeper.
"Finally buying it, eh?" he said jovially. "You've been pouring over that one for a while. What do we have here then" – he turned the book over, frowning when he saw the title – "'Parsing Parseltongue – Gift or Curse?'"
The shopkeeper gave her a piercing look. "Aren't you the Muggle who works at the Magical Menagerie?"
"Yes," she said shortly, bristling.
"What's a Muggle interested in Parseltongue for?" he asked suspiciously, ringing her up.
Marina handed him eight galleons. "It's interesting," she said defensively, taking the book as he handed it to her.
Ignoring the judgemental look he gave her, Marina sprinted out the door and out into the snow. Dodging the crowds, she hastened back to Magical Menagerie at top speed. She burst through the back door and called an apology to the owls who ruffled their feathers angrily at her reckless entry, hoping Verna the shopkeeper hadn't noticed her late return.
"Marina!" she heard the gruff witch call from the front shop.
She froze. "Yeah?" she called back with what she hoped was a convincing tone of nonchalance.
"There's a customer here for you!" Verna yelled.
Marina sighed with relief. Before heading into the front, she leaned heavily against the doorframe. Although she'd been out of St Mungo's for two months now, the excursion back from Obscurus Books had her feeling some unpleasant effects – her head was aching an there was a feverish sensitivity on her skin by her ribs where the strange, green-tinged bruises were still fading.
"Marina!" Verna yelled, her voice louder as she approached the back room. "Get out there, girl," Verna said gruffly, extracting her long pipe from her robes as she passed Marina and made a beeline for the back exit.
Marina jerked around and hurried out the door into the shop. "Sorry for the delay! I was –"
"No need to apologise," Dumbledore smiled. He stood by the display of toads of every colour and size, the largest of which had fixed its beady eyes on the bright silver buttons of Dumbledore's fuchsia suit and was shifting hungrily.
"Careful sir, Gilbert's got an eye on you there," Marina hurried over, leaving her new book on the counter to pick up Gilbert's massive yellowy green body and place him in the tank next to the front entrance where he burped and rumbled grumpily.
"You appear to have settled in well," Dumbledore said, appraising her.
"Yeah, it's nice here," Marina said as casually as she could. She was still kind of pissed off at Dumbledore for leaving her in Diagon Alley for nearly two months with next to zero information.
"I trust that you are quite recovered," said Dumbledore, looking around the store with interest. "It's time for our quest to resume."
"Oh?" Marina said, crouching to pat Dina, the slinky black cat that had been dropped off at the store the day before. Dina blinked up with her neon green eyes and nuzzled her head against Marina's knee. "Which Horcrux is next?"
"Tom has decided that the diadem –"
"Riddle chose?" Marina asked in surprise.
"Yes," said Dumbledore softly, "We met just last week to arrange everything."
A cold feeling cut across Marina – they hadn't even bothered to get her to come for the planning meeting. Feeling a little hurt, Marina stood and pushed her hair behind her shoulders as she made her way back behind the counter.
"I suppose that means we have to go to Albania," she said, frowning slightly.
"Indeed. Remus and Alastor have agreed to accompany you, since I remain unwilling to allow Tom to travel through magical means. It will be a long journey, though fortunately – if I recall correctly – you are a fan of trains," Dumbledore said with a gleam in his eye.
"Sure," Marina said tiredly. "When do we start?"
"I am here to escort you to the station," Dumbledore replied with a bland smile. "I hope Verna doesn't mind losing you for the afternoon – and the next few days."
"Seriously? We're going right now?" Marina said, dumbfounded.
"Indeed. If you head back to the Leakey Cauldron to pack, I will explain the situation to Verna," Dumbledore said, lacing his fingers behind his back pleasantly.
Marina stared.
"I trust you still have the phoenix feather I gave you?" he asked.
She nodded silently.
"Make sure you pack it," said Dumbledore, nodding at her.
Marina picked up her new book without another word and gave Dina's head a final scratch as she passed on her way to the door. As she wove through the bustling street towards Diagon Alley, the cold winter air stung her face as much as the conversation had. Dumbledore's habit of putting her on a shelf until he needed her again was really getting to her.
After throwing her meagre collection of things into her bag and asking Tom the innkeeper if he could keep an eye on her plants, she approached Dumbledore who was waiting by the door to Muggle London with a patient expression.
"No time to waste," he said as she drew near, ignoring her blank expression as he pushed through the door.
They stepped onto the snowy Muggle street and hastened off in the direction of the station. Marina had spent next to no time exploring the Muggle side of London, much more occupied with spending her free time in Flourish and Blotts, Slug and Jiggers, and Obscurus Books. She followed Dumbledore closely, allowing him to confidently weave his way through the staring Muggles.
"Sir, don't take this the wrong way, but if you're going to try to dress like a Muggle, perhaps a different colour –"
"I do not mind standing out, Marina," Dumbledore said cheerfully, "as long as it's not for being a wizard."
"Fair enough," Marina mumbled as she hurried after him.
The cold air chased them all the way to the train station where she soon spotted a familiar trio of faces. To Marina's surprise, Riddle was dressed in plain – though slightly faded – Muggle clothes, finally having replaced his old Slytherin garb.
"Marina," Remus smiled. "It's good to see you."
"You too," she said warmly. "It's been too long," she added a little pointedly – but Dumbledore made no reaction.
"We don't have long," Moody said gruffly, not giving her a greeting. "Train's about to leave." He pointed to a Muggle train on the platform next to them whose doors were still open but had no passengers approaching. Clearly everyone had already taken their seats.
Marina tried to catch Riddle's eye, but he was looking towards the train with a composed expression and didn't seem to notice her.
"Let's go," Remus said, turning to Dumbledore. "We will be in contact when we can."
"Good luck," said Dumbledore gravely.
As the four of them made towards the train, Dumbledore called out to her – "Marina, a word please."
Marina reluctantly held back as the others boarded the train, catching Riddle giving them a look over his shoulder in her peripheral vision.
"Again, I must ask that you put yourself in harm's way, Marina," Dumbledore said softly.
"That was the plan, right?" she said, unimpressed.
"I know that you disagree with much of how I conduct myself –"
"I disagree with how you treat the people around you," Marina clarified, angrily. "Like leaving me alone in an unfamiliar world with no contact for months, and treating Riddle no differently now to when he first came out of the diary –"
"The diary is what I wish to address," Dumbledore interrupted, making no effort to respond to her criticisms. He withdrew the small, faded book from his inner suit pocket and handed it to her. "Should you need it, contact with this will still force Tom inside."
Marina's surprise momentarily eclipsed her annoyance. "What? Still?"
"I admit, I myself was surprised as well," Dumbledore nodded as she took the diary and stowed it away in her bag. "I too had assumed that once Tom had taken on another part of his soul, the link with this diary would be broken. However, this has not been the case."
Marina's mind raced, puzzling over it. "Maybe he needs to talk to Myrtle," she breathed, deep in thought. "That's what ties him to the diary – if he repents for that, maybe the link will be broken."
"I thought the same," Dumbledore nodded.
Marina looked up sharply as an announcement echoed over the loudspeakers that her train was soon to depart.
"Why didn't you get Riddle to try it? You've had weeks –"
Marina realised the reason before the question was out of her mouth. Whilst Riddle was tied to the diary, whoever possessed it controlled him. Dumbledore didn't want to lose his leverage.
"Sir, surely he's proven himself to be worthy of a bit more trust than that," she said heatedly.
"All Tom has proven is that he is unwilling to actively impede our plan," Dumbledore said evenly.
Marina rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retaliate, but Dumbledore held a hand up to silence her.
"I understand your frustration," Dumbledore said, meeting her gaze calmly. "You feel that I am compromising the success of this plan by proceeding too cautiously."
"Yeah," she said brusquely. "That's because you are."
Dumbledore's expression hardened a bit. "You seem to forget that the last time Tom possessed full autonomy, he used it to release a terrible monster upon the muggle-born students of Hogwarts, killing one of them and resulting in the destruction of his own soul."
An alarm sounded as the doors to the train started to close.
"I better go," Marina said coldly, turning from him without another word. He didn't try to stop her.
Marina boarded the train with a pit forming in her stomach. As she approached where the others were sitting, Marina felt Riddle watching her but struggled to meet his gaze. Dumbledore's words were hanging heavy on her, addling her thoughts. She started wondering how likely it was that Riddle was playing them, that he hadn't really changed at all, that the late night conversations in the ward was an act, that he was the same now as he had been when he had forced half of his soul into the very diary that lay in the depths of her bag –
"Marina?" Riddle's voice broke through her thoughts, suddenly standing in front of her. He was looking at her expectantly, and Marina realised he must have asked her a question.
"Sorry?" she stammered.
"Your bag," he said gesturing to it. "Would you like me to put it on the rack?"
"Oh – thanks," she said blandly, pulling out her new book before handing it to him.
He placed it above them with ease and sat back down, giving her a curious look. Marina took the empty seat next to him and looked out the window at the disappearing station as their train picked up speed.
"What are you reading?" Riddle asked, peering down at the book in her lap.
"Er – a book about Parseltongue," she said, feeling weirdly awkward as she showed him the cover.
"Can I see?" he said immediately, sounding curious.
She handed it to him, noticing that Moody and Remus were watching Riddle closely as he flicked through the first few pages attentively.
"Could I read this?" Riddle said, oblivious to their scrutiny.
"Sure," Marina shrugged. "Oh – you'll like this, look –" Marina pulled the book from his hands and flicked to the centrefold where a double page portrait of a greying man with a prominent nose. He was wearing robes with billowing sleeves and a voluminous velvet hat in which perched a long feather. Underneath his portrait was the name Phillipus Aureolus Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim in elaborate script, beneath which in much larger text was the name Paracelsus in letters that flowed like they were in a slight breeze.
"This is the dude who discovered Parseltongue!" Marina said, showing Riddle the portrait.
"Paracelsus, I'm familiar," Riddle said, giving her a raised eyebrow.
"No, like he can talk to you in Parseltongue," Marina prompted, pushing the book towards him.
Riddle glanced at Moody and Remus. "I'm not sure –"
Paracelsus started speaking loudly from the pages, not in Parseltongue but in old-fashioned French and sounding very disgruntled.
"Oh, hold on –" Marina turned the book towards herself. "Paracelse, c'est moi encore. Ce garçon la, il peut parler le Forchelang aussi!"
"Ah, d'accord" Paracelsus said with an appeased smile. Marina turned the book back to Riddle as the man emitted a low hissing sound that made Riddle sit straight up in recognition.
"He says you speak terrible French," Riddle said with an amused look.
Marina laughed. "To him, I bet I do. He's from the 16th century – it took a week before we could even understand each other."
Another hiss came from the pages. Whatever Paracelsus said, Riddle didn't translate – but he did give another smirk that made Marina guess that mocking her French was still the topic of conversation.
"He's taught me how to say some stuff in Parseltongue, too," Marina said nonchalantly.
All three of her companions looked around at her in surprise.
"Why would you want to learn that?" Moody said roughly, a deep look of disapproval in his eyes.
"Is that even possible? I thought you had to be born a Parselmouth to understand it," Remus frowned.
"Yeah, that helps," Marina nodded tiredly. "It's really difficult to tell any of it apart, but Paracelsus wants me to keep trying. He wasn't so happy when I told him that Parseltongue has a bit of a reputation these days. So far he's taught me like, snake basics – express that you're hungry, and express that you're scared."
"Go on," Riddle said, a glint in his eye.
Marina shook her head, fervently. "There's no way I'm demonstrating."
"You just spoke French in front of us, what's the difference?" Riddle pressed, smirking.
"You don't speak French, you don't know when I make mistakes," Marina said, giving Paracelsus a quick wave before closing the book firmly, greatly regretting bringing the whole thing up.
"I'd stop that hobby now, girl," Moody said darkly. "Not too many folks look kindly on those who speak to snakes, no offense," he said, casting Riddle a side eye.
Marina shrugged, but Remus didn't look happy either.
"There are other reasons you should avoid it," he said seriously.
"Like what? No one's going to think I'm practicing dark magic, are they?" Marina rolled her eyes.
"Marina, I don't think you should give Dumbledore any more reasons to suspect that Riddle has too much influence over you. Learning a secret language that only he can speak may give that impression," Remus continued, a bit coolly.
"Dumbledore thinks Riddle has too much influence over me?" Marina repeated, amused.
"I would say it's more the other way around," Riddle muttered, picking up Parsing Parseltongue from Marina's lap and cracking open the first chapter.
"He doesn't seem to think so," Remus said, looking at her gravely.
"For good reason," Moody said. "Keeping what happened during your time travel fiasco has not done either of you well in his books."
Marina greatly wished she could say that she didn't care where she stood in Dumbledore's books, but unfortunately it wasn't true. Dumbledore's influence over the plan and her life in general was unparalleled. For the most part – though she didn't like it – she depended on him.
"I'll talk to Dumbledore," Riddle said quietly to the page he was reading. "When we get back."
Moody and Remus shared a look.
"That would help," Remus said slowly.
Riddle only nodded, not looking up from the book. Marina turned her attention to the buildings that were still rocketing past outside the window, growing more and more sparse as they moved away from the city. If Riddle was faking it all, he was doing a bloody good job.
•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•
"Tell me the itinerary again?" Marina yawned as she punched her bag into a more comfortable position where she lay stretched out on the seat.
"So we took the train to Dover," Riddle said, squinting at the paper in his hands. "The ferry to Calais, and the train to Paris –"
"God that hotel was awful," Marina said, grimacing at the memory of the crowded hovel they'd camped out in for the night in a wizarding alleyway off the centre of Paris.
"Then there was the train to Venice –" Riddle continued, ignoring her as he studied the paper.
"I didn't even know train rides could be sixteen hours..." Marina muttered.
"And now we're going to Bari, in the south of Italy. When we get there, we take another ferry to" – Riddle turned the paper over – "Durres."
"And then we're there?"
"Almost," Riddle said, grimacing himself. "Then we're in Albania, but we'll still have a four-hour bus ride to get us to the right part."
Marina groaned. "I can't believe Dumbledore's making us do this the Muggle way," she said bitterly.
"Are you accepting that magical travel is superior?" Riddle said, stowing the itinerary away in his pocket.
"Yes," she said grumpily, "You have that over the Muggle world for sure."
"You're finally speaking some sense," Riddle smirked, leaning against the window.
They were speeding past the Italian countryside as they travelled further and further south. Moody and Remus sat in the seats opposite them across the aisle, the former somehow asleep whilst sitting perfectly upright with his arms folded, the latter reading a Muggle newspaper that had been left on the seat.
Marina looked over at Riddle. "You haven't told me what you've been up to the last two months," she said curiously.
"I've been staying with Moody," Riddle said, glancing at the sleeping Moody before answering. "His house is a death trap," he said conspiratorially.
"I don't doubt it," Marina smirked.
"McGonagall gave me my fifth-year curriculum, though," he continued, looking back out the window. "She says I might be allowed to sit the exams next year if Dumbledore agrees to have me take them in his office."
"Did you talk much with him?"
Riddle's expression hardened. "Not really," he said, his voice a little cooler. "Apart from last week."
"Yeah, I heard about that. What was that about?" Marina asked, sitting up.
Riddle looked nonchalant. "We were just planning this trip," he said, "and going to the Room of Requirement to get the diadem."
He had gone weirdly nondescript, like he was trying too hard to convey the normalcy of it.
"What's up?" Marina asked, cocking her head.
Riddle hesitated. "I didn't know that others knew about the Room of Requirement," he said slowly.
Marina nodded, remembering something like that from the books. That was why Voldemort had hidden the diadem there, because he'd though he knew the secrets of Hogwarts better than anyone else.
"I didn't know that you could learn Parseltongue, either," Riddle continued, softly.
There was an edge in his voice that Marina wasn't sure about.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, peering at him.
"What do you mean?" he replied, casually.
"Knowing about the Room, speaking Parseltongue, those are things that set you apart from others," Marina said, leaning forward. "I happen to know that you value things that set you apart. You seem to be implying that these things are losing their capability to do so."
He levelled her with a piercing look. "You happen to know that, do you?" he asked in an icy voice.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't get weird," she said dismissively. "I'm not trying to psychoanalyse you, I'm trying to check if you're okay."
He didn't reply, he just kept scrutinising at her.
Marina sat back with a huff. "Whatever," she muttered.
"Do you not think it is important?" Riddle said quietly. "To value standing out?"
Marina considered him. "Yes," she conceded, slowly. "But for the right reasons."
"And what are the right reasons?" he said, eyes narrowing.
"Well, things like 'being the only one to know about a room,' and 'speaking a specific language' are shitty reasons," she began, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere. "Anyone can find a room, and people can clearly learn the language, so if you tie your self-worth to things like that, it's easy to destroy it."
"You didn't answer my question," Riddle said, expression unchanged.
"Good things to value that make you stand out," Marina said thoughtfully, "are things that don't matter if others share them too. Like – someone who's always on time. Someone with a talent to always get the perfect present. Someone who can draw with flawless perspective, or is always polite to service workers, or impeccably makes their bed every morning, or can do complicated math in their head without having to count on their fingers like me –"
"Those things are inconsequential," Riddle said, quite haughtily.
"Sure, but no one's identity comes crashing down if they find out someone else also makes their bed every morning," Marina said pointedly.
He glared at her. "My identity is not crashing down."
"If you say so," she held up her hands. "But I'm just trying to say that completely externalising how you define yourself is a dangerous game."
"And how should I define myself?" Riddle asked. His tone was soft again, but without the edge.
She smiled. "I don't think anyone can answer that except you."
"You just told me that the way I define myself is wrong," he accused.
"I said it was dangerous," Marina corrected.
"You're not making any sense," Riddle muttered, looking out the window again.
Marina flung her arm across her face to hide her growing smile. Struggling with how to find identity was just about the most normal teenage thing she'd ever seen Riddle do.
Dumbledore's words on the platform came back to her like a sudden rain, drenching her thoughts and making her smile dissolve. '...killing one of them and resulting in the destruction of his own soul...'
Riddle wasn't a normal teenager. He had already done things, horrible things that set him apart more than anything else ever could. It was so hard to remember, sometimes, that for him those things were a recent past, that in his mind only mere months ago was he opening the Chamber, killing Myrtle, making his first Horcrux.
She thought about what Remus had said, about Riddle having too much influence over her. She had found it laughable at the time, but she'd just had yet another conversation with Riddle during which she'd totally forgotten about the crimes he'd committed, the pain he'd inflicted.
Marina felt a horrible feeling creeping in on her, worming its way up from the pit in her stomach into her heart and settling there coldly.
"Dumbledore said something about me, didn't he," Riddle said quietly.
She jolted, coming back to reality at his sudden voice. "What do you mean?" she asked, managing to keep the quiver from her voice.
"On the platform, he said something to you. You've been acting differently."
Marina let her arm drop and looked over at him. His expression was perfectly composed but she could sense tension in him, nonetheless.
"I could be acting differently because I haven't seen you in so long," she pointed out.
Riddle shook his head. "Dumbledore doesn't like that you believe in me," Riddle said bluntly, ignoring the rustling newspaper as Remus looked over at this statement. "He said something to you to try to make you stop."
"Dumbledore reminded me of your own actions, Riddle," Marina said evenly. "Not even you can say that me drawing a judgement based on your actions is somehow Dumbledore's fault."
"You're defending him now?" Riddle said coldly.
"Dumbledore is an obstacle, not an enemy," Marina said firmly.
"What did he say?" said Riddle immediately, his tone harsh.
"He reminded me of what you did to Myrtle," replied Marina, looking up at the ceiling. "Sometimes I forget the horrible things you've done."
Riddle was silent, the noise of the train filling the air in lieu of conversation.
"I still believe in you, Riddle," she said, watching the sunlight flicker on the ceiling above. "That hasn't gone away. But... all this was necessary for a reason. My belief that you can change doesn't equate to me liking who you used to be."
There was a moment's pause.
"And what about now?" said Riddle.
Marina looked over in surprise. "Do I like you now?" she asked, making sure she understood him.
He nodded, expression still blank.
"I like parts of you," she said honestly. "Your past is not one of them."
"I can't do anything about that," he said icily.
"No," Marina agreed simply. "Looks like you'll have to focus on the present."
Silence fell between them again. Over the sounds of the train, Marina heard the tell-tale noises of Remus picking up the newspaper again.
.•° ✿ °•.
We're nearly at the next Horcrux!!
°•. ✿ .•°