Imperius Quidditch

Imperius Quidditch
by Alec Dossetor and Teri Krenek

  

Chapter Six

 

Tom was speechless. He felt terribly ill again, and as if he would pass out, which might be a merciful fate compared with what he would have to face next. Jode stared at him critically, his thin face unreadable, and folded his arms across his chest; Tom felt as though the man could see straight through him.

"Now, Tom," said Dumbledore, "since we're both present, perhaps you'd like to continue with what you were going to say?"

Tom moved his mouth soundlessly; suddenly, his predicament had become much more devastating. Could he continue his planned charade, with Jode here? It didn't matter; there was no turning back now. He had to do something, to save himself while he still had the chance; otherwise, Jode's testimony would overrule him completely, and he would be lost.

"I have... a confession to make," he blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth as though he could no longer contain them. Dumbledore eased into the chair behind his desk, and steepled his fingers in front of him, while Jode remained where he was, standing in the corner near the doorway.  "I did something, yesterday."

"You were supposed to be with Professor Gryme, helping him with a research assignment. Are you telling me this is untrue?”

“Oh, no, sir. You see, I was with Professor Gryme, but...” He took a deep breath; he felt like he couldn't get enough oxygen, “...but, what we did was not... research.

“Dr. Gryme took me abroad, to a valley, somewhere in the Austrian Mountains , and we went to a meeting. It was not like anything I'd ever seen before, Professor, it was a meeting of—” he gulped, “—Dark Wizards.”

He glanced hesitantly over to Jode, who said nothing. Dumbledore was quiet as well. "Continue," he said tonelessly.

"Professor Gryme brought me there to... play a game. He told me that I was just what they needed, that I had potential. I didn't know what he meant. But then, when we came to the spot – Professor Gryme told me it was all unplottable – they told me what I was to do. I didn't know anything about it until I got there. Professor Gryme didn't tell me anything.

“It was a stone amphitheatre, with Dark Wizards, even Grindelwald himself, as the audience. And, they brought out a team of seven men, all under the Imperius Curse. They told me I'd have to control the men – the pawns, they called them – in a game of Quidditch. So I did. I couldn't back out! They might have killed me, or killed the pawns!" He turned to Jode, and met the man's gaze steadily. "Wouldn't they?" he asked softly.

Jode nodded, quickly. "I would not have been surprised."

"But it was Professor Gryme who led you to this? You had no foreknowledge of this game?" Dumbledore asked.

Tom shook his head. "No, Professor. I had no idea what Professor Gryme's task for the weekend was." Well, that was the truth.

"I see. We shall continue this discussion in just a moment, Tom, but first I feel it is necessary to retrieve Dr. Gryme." He walked into his office; a few moments later, Tom could hear him calling out, presumably through the fireplace: "Headmaster Dippet, I'm afraid we have a rather delicate situation at hand. One of your Professors has been escorting students off-grounds to convene with Dark Wizards... I'd suggest you speak with Professor Gryme immediately."

There was a muffled reply, and Dumbledore answered in a lower voice; Tom couldn't make out the rest of the conversation. A few seconds later, the auburn-haired wizard returned, and took his seat once more behind the desk.

Aemelius Jode looked Tom in the eyes. “Tom, just think for a moment what you’re saying. You know perfectly well I was there, in the audience. Are you telling me that you played as brilliantly as you did, and at one point almost won against Heinrich, Heinrich, with absolutely no experience… of the Imperius Curse, or of anything else?”

Tom hesitated. His whole plan was to speak the truth where possible, about anything except his own state of mind. An outright lie would sound utterly improbable. “Sir, I swear I knew nothing about the game, but yes, I did know the Imperius Curse.”

“How did you learn of it, and when?” put in Dumbledore sharply.

“Professor Gryme taught it to me, some months ago. He has been preparing me for this almost since I came to Hogwarts – without my knowing it. I had no idea. But he was like a father to me, in some ways, and he taught me a great deal – in his own way. Everything I learnt in class was too easy, but he gave me difficult and interesting things to do. I know now he was preparing me for last night – but it was all so innocent at the time.”

“To use the Imperius Curse on people is innocent?” asked Dumbledore. “You know it is one of only three curses that are Unforgivable. To use it even once on a fellow human being is to spend the rest of your life in Azkaban.”

“Not on people, Professor. I didn’t even know what it looked like on people till yesterday. It was early in March in the Arithmancy classroom, when Professor Gryme left me in the room with seven white mice and, and Corvus’ cat, and he asked me to control the mice by Imperius alone, to keep them alive. The curse was used as a kind of protection – they could run far faster under the Imperius, and help one another distract the cat. Of course, what he was really doing was preparing me for the game.”

Jode was thoughtful. “That was brilliantly imaginative of your professor.”

“I know that to use the Imperius Curse is unforgivable. That was the trap Dr. Gryme left me in last night.  If I refused, they would not have let me leave to tell on them, and if I then confessed, I would be expelled – and spend the rest of my life in Azkaban.”

“With the Dementors,” added Dumbledore quietly. “Why did you decide to…‘play’?”

“At first, I just waited, as they prepared the game, and hoped that something would happen – but I knew it wouldn’t. And then they brought the pawns. One of them was a friend of mine at Hogwarts. Well, almost a friend, he was some years older, but we had done a few things together – Professor Gryme had been his tutor. I don’t know why he was there, as a pawn, but I wanted to help him. So I played – it was the only way to have any control at all over what happened – and I learnt what I could.” He paused, and then added. “It’s hard to believe how naive I was. I had no idea, even when I knew we would use the Imperius, just what the game was really like, and the horrible things I would find myself doing... It was more than an attempt to trap me into working for them, so that I would be in their power afterwards. It was an attempt to make me into a Dark Wizard....” Tom lowered his voice: “…and it... nearly succeeded!”

Dumbledore looked at his friend, but the mysterious wizard from the Department of Mysteries frowned. (He must be quite important there, Tom thought, to be a Hogwarts governor as well.) Desperately, Tom’s mind raced to try to understand the wizard. He was a puzzling person: an ally of Dumbledore’s, and in Grindelwald’s secret world. How had he become part of that? Suddenly, a vague snatch of Gryme’s conversation came to him, as he spoke to him about the theatre:

"I’m not an expert on these matters, Tom, but I suspect it’s a great deal more than unplottable – more like a dark counterpart of the Fidelius Charm. There isn’t a way in, if you’re not introduced."

Someone had introduced him there once. He’d been through the dark gate, and chosen to enter – and spoken with longing of previous games. How long had he been a Ministry agent? And had he once been a Dark Wizard himself?

“Tom,” said Jode, and his voice now was gentle, “I understand what you’ve said; and I believe you – up to a point. I understand how you could have been trapped into playing the game – and it’s something in your favour that you came right to us, the very minute you arrived. But I spoke to you myself, there in the interval, and although you did seem out of your depth, you just didn’t play the game like an innocent. You were playing the game with all your heart – and so well that even Grindelwald was impressed. You were controlling people all the time, playing with their wills like strings on an instrument; you were ordering curses right, left and centre – even the Cruciatus once.

“You were playing as if you had to get the Snitch at any cost.”

Tom looked stricken, but spoke up bravely. “But I did have to, Professor, Mr. Jode. Otherwise nobody would have escaped."

Dumbledore gave him a piercing glance, but it was Aemelius Jode who answered him. “Are you telling us you arranged the escape deliberately?”

Tom hesitated. Don’t tell a direct lie if you can help it.

“I released the other pawns from the Imperius as soon as I saw I would get the Snitch. They were already free when the security wizards tried to take them over: what they told Grindelwald was true. It was the one moment they might have a chance to escape – when everybody else was distracted – and the one moment I wouldn’t be blamed for releasing them. Then I went up to help Franz Apparate – by then it was clear that they wouldn’t get away by flying.”

The room was absolutely silent, except for Tom’s nervous breathing. The two wizards stared at him, and then at each other.

“That boy – he was missing, we thought him dead,” said Jode quietly. “But, you helped him Apparate? How was that possible?”

Tom shook his head. “I’m not sure I can explain it myself, not really. All I know is, after the... the Cruciatus, it was like Franz was… a part of my mind. And vice versa. It was very odd. I could practically hear him thinking, and he could hear me! And it was like that with the other players. Especially the Chasers; I knew their names – and we could almost talk to each other. I wasn’t exactly using the Imperius Curse on them, after that – at least, it wasn’t exactly the same any more – in a way, it was no longer even a curse. That’s how I renewed the link when I was flying. He was too far away, and I couldn’t point my wand at him – not without all the wizards knowing – but by that time it was a voluntary link.”

Jode nodded. “I see. So you ordered him to Apparate then? And he did so… through you, in a way?”

“I suppose, yes... no, I’m not really sure… Something just made me certain it would work, but it wasn’t exactly quite like that. Franz could Apparate, but he didn’t have a wand to focus his magic. I clutched my wand and turned all of my mind to him, and then I ordered Franz to Apparate to safety. I focused his power, until he was strong enough to go – and made utterly sure the destination was clear.” He had a sudden thought. “You can even check my wand, if you like.”

He held out the wand over desk, offering it to Dumbledore, who took it with a curious look on his face. “Very well,” he said, and pointed his own wand over Tom’s.

“Prior Incantato!”

As Tom supposed, what issued from his wand was not, as they might have expected, an echo of the Imperius Curse, but a small popping sound very like that of Apparition, combined with the ghostly face of Franz Schmidt. Mingled with the echo, there was just the vaguest hint of command. The look on Jode’s face registered utter admiration and awe. Dumbledore too, seemed surprised, but also disconcerted.

“Impressive, yes,” he murmured. “You see, Tom, Aemelius here has already told me some very interesting things... including the testimony of a certain Ministry Auror very early this morning—”

Augustus Crimble, Tom thought.

“—but, I believe,” he said quickly, “that with what you know, the two of you have me at a disadvantage. Tom, if you don’t mind, I’d like to hear about this game. Please start at the very beginning.”

Tom cast another furtive glance over at Jode, who only met his gaze with that same thoughtful stare. He had to tell the truth; otherwise, Jode would doubtlessly contradict him. Dumbledore would never believe Tom’s word, against the testimony of his friend’s.

He swallowed. “All right.”

“Begin when you came down into the valley. What were your thoughts when you saw this theatre?”

“I didn’t see the theatre at first. It wasn’t there; and then when I landed we saw a ruin, and a gate. It was black when I went in, utterly black. I wanted to run, but the professor had taken away my broom... and then I asked it to let me in – begged it to open for me... and the professor introduced me. Then suddenly there was light.

“That was my first mistake, wasn’t it?”

Dumbledore exchanged a glance with Jode. “None of us knows much about it, but it is a very evil place.”

The two wizards were silent as Tom went on with his narration, explaining all he had done in detail, from the very moment he entered the theatre. Every spell that he cast he recounted, every enchantment Heinrich had used, and the slow disappearance of his moral qualms. Quickening his voice he described his terror, his desperate attempts to fend off madness – until the moment he had ordered the Cruciatus Curse. “And then... and then I suddenly saw what was happening to me.... it was horrible, Professor!”

Neither of his listeners spoke, and after a pause Tom went on with his tale. His voice was low and strained now, and he spoke with difficulty as he continued, through the nightmare of the Cruciatus enchantment, and the strange liberation after the curse. He explained to them his plans for capturing the Snitch, by which time he was completely desperate, and how he released six of his pawns just before. He perked up a little when he spoke of the pawns’ escape, the freedom of flying, safe in the air, and when he had helped Franz to wandlessly Apparate. All the while as he told his story, the two wizards were utterly silent.

When he finished, there was a long pause. He shifted uncomfortably beneath the weight of the two men’s gazes, and it seemed an eternity before Dumbledore cleared his throat and spoke:

“There’s no use denying your ruthlessness in the game, Tom. You used not one, but two Unforgivable Curses—”

“Yes Professor, I did.” He spoke bitterly. “I had no idea I could do such things. Professor Gryme knew me better than I knew myself.”

“Albus, there is another way of explaining it, and it isn’t just that he gave in to temptation,” Jode interrupted, and Tom couldn’t resist a quizzical look in the other wizard’s direction. “We talked about it earlier this evening.”

Tom wondered. What on earth could they mean? He took a deep breath. “But it was temptation, Mr. Jode. All kinds of things I’d never dreamed I could do, and there I was doing them – a constant lure, and I didn’t even try to fight it – not until I’d ordered a Cruciatus Curse.” Tom chose his words carefully, but the bitterness in his voice, as he thought of what he had been caught up in, was plain for both of them to hear. “That pushed even my conscience too far...”

“... and then all hell broke loose for you.” Jode finished for him. “It does, when you start to fight a temptation. Particularly since you’d already given in to it.” Jode’s voice was slower now, and softer. Then he stopped, as if he suddenly remembered something.

“The ravens. Albus, that’s exactly when they came! There are never birds in that theatre, you know; no living creatures aside from ourselves. That’s why it caught my attention. But it wasn’t foreboding, as I had thought. They came when he started to fight Necrophylacos! This boy may be almost entirely innocent!”

Dumbledore’s eyes looked up, thoughtfully. “Before the crow called, came the Magus, raven-hearted Necrophylacos... They always said he took shape as a raven. The light in the theatre waned when they fell?”

“A little, Albus. It did by a little.”

 Tom looked from Jode’s face to Dumbledore’s, perplexed. “I don’t understand. What do those birds have to do with this? Necrophylacos is dead.”

“Not entirely, Tom. He’s not entirely dead. Not alive in his body, perhaps, but his memory is still alive in that theatre, in the stones, the olive trees – they shouldn’t grow as far north as that – and, last night, in the ravens, in the spells he crafted to keep it secure. An echo, a memory of his spells and his terrible power. Every game that’s played there feeds it. The fall of the ravens, and your resistance, were the first defeat hat he’s had there in years.

“Your real failing was choosing to go in, Tom. From that very moment you were almost surrounded by him, and he was there inside you, clouding your conscience. It isn’t quite like being under Imperius, but in some ways it’s quite as hard to fight off – and it would have been focused on you, as a player.”

“You mean he was using me – controlling me?” The horror that broke out in Tom was genuine.

“We know so little about his spells... or even about that amphitheatre. It aids him, perhaps, that he left no apprentice: none of his spells are still in use.”

Dumbledore interrupted: “But even under the influence of such a Dark power, the choices you made were still your own, Tom.”

“But the boy obviously had the will to fight it! He wouldn’t have done so if he had truly wanted to play the game, for Darker purposes. None of his predecessors did.”

“Perhaps not,” Dumbledore agreed slowly, but his brow began to unfurrow, and Tom could tell he was at last convinced.

Tom was silent, torn between the shock of knowing that he had been subtly influenced by another power during the entire course of the game, used much like he had manipulated the pawns, and the relief he felt that the two wizards believed his story, backed by such evidence. He didn’t have a chance to speak, however, because the door to the classroom suddenly burst open.

“Dumbledore, I demand to know the meaning of this!” Headmaster Armando Dippet exclaimed. His face was flushed, and he was unquestionably angry.

“Headmaster Dippet. I trust you have spoken with Professor Gryme?” Dumbledore said calmly.

“I have indeed. Of course he has no idea what you are talking about! I’ll have you know,” he was speaking to Jode now, “Abbacus Gryme is one of my most trusted professors here; I have no reason to incriminate him based on dubious rumours, and the word of a thirteen year old boy—”

“And I have found far more reason to believe in Tom’s innocence, than in Professor Gryme’s,” Dumbledore remarked.

“Your evidence? More half-baked rumours, I suppose. It’s all nonsense; I don’t know why I bothered to listen to any of it…” He turned toward Tom, “And I demand to know just exactly what you think you’re up to, young man!”

“Nothing, Headmaster,” Tom said solemnly. “I was telling the truth!”

Dumbledore stood up from behind his desk. “I would like to speak to Abbacus Gryme myself. Would you care to come with me, Armando?”

Dippet waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “And what do you have to say to him, Albus?”

“I’d like to discuss with him everything that Tom has said here. Perhaps you too would like to know Tom’s story?”

Dippet hesitated. “You’d better explain quickly, Albus. I don’t have time to rush all over this castle because of such madness!”

He turned quickly on his heel and left. With a muttered, “Excuse me” and a nod toward Tom and Jode, Dumbledore followed.

Tom was now alone with Aemelius Jode, and he wondered, with some trepidation, what would become of Dr. Gryme. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of wood scraping against the floor; the older wizard, after a few moments’ pause, had Summoned another chair from the other side of the classroom, and now sat facing Tom to one side of Dumbledore’s desk.  He leaned forward, and Tom did not meet his gaze, but could feel the man scrutinizing him. After a while, Jode spoke:

“You know, Tom, I was once in exactly your place during that game. Of course, I was a little older than you – and a little more experienced with Dark Magic, I’m sure – but, I played, just like you did. And I was pleased with myself, and I revelled in the control I had.”

“And did you resist?”

“No; no, that’s where we differ. I didn’t want to resist the powerful influence of that valley, and for a very long time, I didn’t at all. I understand the lure of the Dark Arts, you see. I think your Transfiguration teacher understands, too, but he doesn’t see it in quite the same way. Dumbledore’s never been tempted like that.

“The Dark Wizards aren’t necessarily evil; they have different motives. Some of Grindelwald’s followers I actually like very much. Their beliefs are… questionable, and they allow themselves to be to easily persuaded. Just as I was, before I joined the Department of Mysteries’ espionage.”

Tom nodded thoughtfully. “And what changed your mind?”

“Well, it was a number of things. The realisation that what I was doing was truly against my conscience, help from a good friend… but mainly, I think it was that I finally came to my senses, and understood that the Dark was not a place where I could succeed, no matter how much it seemed that way. Darkness only leads further into darkness, Tom. You can do well without it – but I think you see that now.”

Tom nodded again. 

Jode smiled slightly. “Yes. Stick to your studies, Tom… and be more careful of your associations in the future.

“There is something else, though. How did you manage to convince Grindelwald that you had been playing the game legitimately?”

“I was very, very lucky, sir. Grindelwald had already decided, for the most part, that the pawns had escaped because of the security wizards, that they had made the mistake, and not me. He seemed very impressed with my game—”

“Not surprising; it was quite an impressive game!”

“—yes, but later, Heinrich told him what did happen – or almost. Well, in a way. I’m still not sure if he knew everything, or not, but he protected me, sort of. He said it was still the fault of the security wizards, even though I’d loosened my hold on the pawns. I think it was his testimony that kept me from being punished, really.”

Jode didn’t seem surprised. “Well, Heinrich always was an honourable man, in his own way – at least as long as I have known him. I wasn’t joking when I said he hardly ever uses the Passion spells; I think he considers them an unfair advantage. Of course, when he’s really in danger of losing…” He shrugged.

“There was even a point in the game,” Tom said slowly, “when I was having so much trouble with the Cruciatus enchantment… it was like I heard a voice in my head, telling me what to do. At the time, I didn’t know, or care, what it was. But now, I wonder if it wasn’t Heinrich, somehow.”

Jode made a noise of interest in the back of his throat, but otherwise said nothing. Tom picked absently at a loose thread on the sleeve of his robes, and was silent as well, until Jode spoke again.

“Well, I think Tom, that you’ve learned—”

Jode’s sentence was cut off by the reappearance of Dumbledore and a very pale-faced Dippet. With them was another professor, a short fair-haired woman whom Tom vaguely knew as Olga Tempera, Professor of History of Magical Art.

“That was a quick return,” Jode remarked. “And where is this Professor Gryme?”

The creases around Dumbledore’s mouth had deepened, and he said gravely, “Professor Gryme has already escaped.”

Dippet shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe it, I’d never have thought… Abbacus Gryme, last person I’d have ever expected…”

“I should hope you have people searching for him!” Jode remarked, disapprovingly.

“Oh, yes, of course; we sent them off right away. I sent Professor Binns to Apparate to the Ministry, and inform them of the situation, and the castle is being searched as we speak…”

He looked over at Tom. “And I believe I owe you an apology, young man.”

Tom nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

Professor Tempera spoke up then. “But where is Franz Schmidt?” she asked curiously. “I thought you said he was here, in trouble?”

“He is in a bit of a dilemma, Olga. But it’s only my hunch that he’s here, though. Tom, if you don’t mind, I think it is necessary that we speak with Franz. You need to tell us where he is.”

Tom glanced uncertainly at each of the four faces in the room, and made up his mind. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you yet, Professor. Not unless I know that he won’t be punished.”

Dippet stared. “Come now, Tom, the boy was, from all I hear, an active Dark Wizard, he ought to be put in Azkaban—”

“No!” Tom said firmly. “I didn’t risk my life to help him escape from Grindelwald just so he could be punished by the Ministry instead. You can’t send him to Azkaban.”

Tempera said, “Look, Franz is on his own, now, alone and friendless. He’s running from Grindelwald, and running from us. How long will he survive before someone finds him?”

Tom still shook his head, unconvinced. “I can’t tell you, unless you give me your word that he won’t be charged,” he said slowly, looking at Jode. "He came back... I could help him, because he trusted me."

Before Dippet could speak, Jode nodded. “You have my word, as a Ministry official. If he’s willing to turn in evidence, and tell us what he’s seen, he won’t be punished. We’ll get him a pardon for what he’s done.”

So you really do have power, after all.

Tom was satisfied, and very relieved; a fleeting wish passed through his mind, that he could have made a similar arrangement for Gryme, but he dismissed the thought firmly, reminding himself that Gryme was lucky to escape at all – and unlike Franz, he had somewhere to go. “All right,” Tom told them. “Franz is in Hogsmeade. At the old Griffin Lodge past The Three Broomsticks.”

Dumbledore seemed pleased with his deduction. Dippet merely pointed to the door. “Olga, go on then and get him. I suppose that his story will agree with yours, Tom?”

“It should, sir,” Tom answered. I certainly hope so.

“Right,” said Dippet; he was tapping his foot nervously. “I’ll just leave you here, with Dumbledore and Mr. Jode. I must go see if the Ministry officials have arrived yet…” He disappeared quickly from the room.

“How did you know I’d sent him to Hogsmeade?” Tom asked. He was quite impressed.

“Well, Franz was wandless, and exhausted. It follows logically that you would send him to a place where you would be able to help him.”

“Albus,” Jode said, “I’m afraid I must be off. I have other… matters to attend to. And you seem to have this well under control – at least, as well as can be expected.”

“Yes, absolutely, Aemelius. Thank you again, for informing me.”

“No trouble at all,” Jode said. “Take care.” Then, as an afterthought: “Especially you, Tom Riddle.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

He gave a thin smile, and left the classroom. 

Tom made a move, as if to get up, and Dumbledore cleared his throat. “There are still a few things I need to discuss with you, Tom. In my office, if you will.”

Tom was suddenly nervous again. Would Dumbledore confront him with some other information, now that Jode was gone? He was tired too, and wondered if he’d be able to think as quickly – but somehow it seemed unlikely, and he slipped into the office, Dumbledore closing the door behind him.

"Lumos." It had been dark for some time now, but Dumbledore’s office was filled with candles that lit themselves magically at their master’s word. Looking up from a corner of the desk, a scarlet phoenix turned its head, and gazed at Tom with half-open eyes. He turned back to his teacher expectantly.

“I’ve realised, Tom,” Dumbledore began, “that you are not the only one at fault here. Indeed, some of the blame may fall even upon myself.”

Tom stared at his Transfiguration teacher, bewildered by this admission. “Why, Professor? I don’t understand.”

“Tom, you were guided even before you came under the influence of Necrophylacos. You were directed from the first by Dr. Gryme; he became your trusted mentor; and that was enough. 

“I pride myself on taking interest in the lives of each of my students. Obviously, I failed you, Tom, to some degree. But it won’t happen again.”

Tom wasn’t sure if this should worry him or relieve him. “Thank you, sir,” he said quietly. He didn’t quite meet Dumbledore’s eyes; instead, he looked past the older wizard, into the corner where Dumbledore’s phoenix was perched. Dumbledore followed his gaze.

“You know, your wand connects you to me, in a way,” Dumbledore said suddenly.

“It does?”

“Yes; you see, Fawkes over there donated his tail feathers – two, actually – to Ollivander some years ago. And Ollivander informed me as soon as your wand was bought.”

“I didn’t know that,” answered Tom lamely. There was a long moment of silence then; Tom watched the beady, knowing eyes of the phoenix.

“It was terrible, in a way,” he said abruptly, “being there in that theatre. But it was wonderful, too. I’ve never had such control.

“I know I did… awful things. But, what was worse, is I wanted to do even more. Mr. Jode was right. It was a great temptation.”

“Aemelius was also right in another matter, of course: it was not entirely your fault. Wizards with far more experience than yours have succumbed to such influences. I think the power that exists even in death is often overlooked. But, most importantly, you did resist such power, and I commend you for that. You showed a bravery worthy of even Godric Gryffindor himself.

“I do regret the loss of Dr. Gryme. I get the impression that you respected him a great deal.”

“Yes,” admitted Tom. “I did. Then.”

“Yes. Well, perhaps you shall find someone else, more worthy of your respect and trust.

“I have a proposition for you, Tom. There are a number of odd tasks I must perform over the summer holidays, and I would be delighted to have a bright assistant such as yourself.”

“Are you offering me a summer job?”

“Yes, of a sort. It would only be for a month or so, and for the rest of the time you would be sent to your orphanage, but you would be paid, and I daresay you would find the tasks interesting and to your liking.”

Tom wasn’t quite sure what to say, only that he was in no position to refuse. “All right. Yes, I would like that, Professor.”

Dumbledore smiled, the first genuine smile that had crossed his face ever since Tom had first set foot inside the classroom. “I’m glad to hear it, Tom.  It’s a bit premature, just now. I will discuss it with you further before you leave, but after your exams are completed.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“You are entirely welcome. I look forward to it.

“In the meantime, Tom, I think you had better go back to your common room. I don’t think I need to tell you that this entire affair is to remain a secret.”

“Of course. I don’t think I’d tell any of my classmates, anyway.”

“I should think not. Would you like me to escort you back, or can you go alone?”

“I’ll be fine Professor,” he said, and smiled slightly. “Thank you again.”

“You’re welcome, Tom.”

He left the room, and the shock of it all suddenly seeped into him. His mind was numb with surprise and relief, as he retreated down the corridor. Tom had admitted it all – at least, all of the facts. They knew practically everything, and yet, here he was, walking to his common room as if nothing had happened, without the fear of Aurors coming after him from around the corner. It was astonishing. He could not believe he had actually gotten away with it. Every last piece fit together now. They didn’t even think they had anything to pardon.

Of course, he could never be caught in such a predicament again. Tom had always felt the necessity of being a good student, but now, that requirement was a matter of survival. They must never have cause to suspect him again. No, Dumbledore would not make the same mistake twice. 

He wondered, suddenly, what job Dumbledore had in store for him. Would he be able to stay at Hogwarts? Or might he be able to go somewhere else? Not to have to go back to the orphanage... there was just a chance that it might be quite interesting.

Half way down the great staircase, he ran into Professor Olga Tempera again. The witch looked harried as she ran up the staircase, but Tom called to stop her anyway: “Professor!”

“What?’ Oh. Yes, Tom?”

“Professor… I just wondered, how is Franz?”

Her face softened. “Oh, he’s fine, thank goodness. Exhausted, weak, and confused, but otherwise all right.” She shook her head. “Poor boy. He was always such a dear. One of the few students last year genuinely interested in my classes; a shame, if we had more minds like his, perhaps my History of Magical Art would remain a part of Hogwarts’ curriculum…”

“But he is all right?”

“Yes, he is. I left him with the Ministry officials. No, don’t worry, Mr. Jode came down, to make quite sure he wasn’t charged. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must speak with Albus…”

She rushed up the stairs to the Dumbledore’s classroom, and Tom headed down to the stairs to the dungeon, dank and grim. Amid all the relief, he was beginning to be tired. In a minute he had reached the paintings near the door of the Slytherin common room; the air was cold, and for a moment it almost felt as though there was another presence. He shuddered; and quickly came back to himself. He had learnt many things in the past twenty-four hours, but above all, he vowed never to let the influence of any wizard, dead or alive, take over his mind so completely again. Control was a beautiful thing to have and behold, but it was far less attractive when such control was used against him. No, he had made that mistake, and learned from it. He would never ever make it again. There was a spring in his step, and a new resolve...

* * * * *