The Secret of Riddles

Chapter 2: Scarlet

Hogwarts - 1943

"Come here, Tom," Professor Dumbledore called to the handsome youth. The boy that turned had the distinct air of someone in charge.

He caught sight of Dumbledore and his eyes hardened for half of a second before returning to their natural look. Dumbledore could have sworn red flashed in his eyes.

Tom walked over to the Professor and stopped in front of him. "What is it, Sir?" he asked innocently, though Dumbledore knew he could be far from innocent at times, possibly even violent.

"I was wondering if you had seen a certain someone today?" Dumbledore asked. "I need to speak to her immediately. I need to know what she may."

Tom's eyes flashed again, but this time they stayed their hardened tone. "I haven't seen her in a while, nor do I wish to speak to her ever again. I promise you she will know nothing, as usual. She is very ignorant to her surroundings," he replied smoothly, his voice a deadly silk.

"On the contrary, Mr. Riddle, you know as well as I that statement is false in more ways than one. She must know something after all. She has an uncanny way of knowing what she shouldn't," Dumbledore paused before continuing, "like a certain someone else I know."

Tom flinched slightly. "She may know some things, though I doubt that even she would know anything about this matter," he replied. "I must go to class, Professor."

Dumbledore took in the boy's haste to get away. Flee from honest questioning. "Very well, Tom, you may go."

The boy turned around and left quickly. That girl was going to be the death of him, or he of her.

"What are you doing, Tommy?" a sweet voice asked from a crevice in the wall, no one would be able to see or notice it, no one except her.

He stopped to look at her. "What do you want?" he asked coldly.

The girl raised her dark eyebrows at him. "Why so rude, Tommy? Gone off to kill another person?" she asked devilishly.

Tom's eyes flared red and stayed that way for a few seconds before returning to their natural color.

"Angry?" the girl asked sweetly, walking up to him and circling him carefully. "You need to hide your feelings."

Tom broke her circle and forced her back to a wall, his wand under her neck.

"You wouldn't."

"You say a damn thing and you'll regret ever being born. You'll regret betraying me," Tom threatened. He hated her with every fiber of his being, as did she.

"I never betrayed you," she replied, her eyes flashing scarlet, just as his had done. "That was you."

~

Harry rubbed his scar roughly as Ginny lead him down the street, following Ron and Hermione. There was something wrong, it didn't burn, it hadn't done that in twenty-one years. It didn't even twinge, it just itched horribly, as if there were something nearby, and it was trying to tell him.

"Harry, are you all right?" Ginny asked, leaning her head on his shoulder.

He conjured a smile for her. "Of course, just an itch."

"It must be a really annoying itch," she replied, surprised he handed drawn blood for all his efforts to scratch it. "Maybe Mum knows a melody to help it. Or Hermione," she said helpfully.

"No, really it's fine, just itching," Harry replied with a smile that screamed, It is NOT just an itch!

Ginny stopped them both and grabbed Harry's shirt, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Harry James Potter, don't you lie to me. I know when something's bothering you and something is definitely bothering you," she said aggressively, the same hard blazing look on her face as she had the first time he kissed her.

Harry looked into her brown eyes and sighed. He remembered something Mr. Weasley had told him before their wedding. The wife is always right and you are always wrong. "I'll tell you later," he told her. Harry leaned down and kissed her passionately before continuing to follow Ron and Hermione as they approached the Leaky Cauldron.

Ginny reluctantly followed him. "You will tell me. Promise?" she asked him.

"'Course."

Ginny smiled, content. Harry laughed.

She looked up at him appraisingly. "What is so funny?" she asked squeezing his arm.

"You are, love," he told her with a cheeky grin.

Ginny sighed. "Sometimes you are just as bad as the children," she said. "Of course they are yours."

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Oi, you two, gonna take forever to get here?" Ron called from the door of the pub. Hermione was watching them curiously from inside.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her older brother.

"Yea, just a moment," Harry replied. Ginny gazed up at him. "We'll talk later, I promise."

"Then let's not make Ron wait any longer, you know how a minute not spent eating is a minute wasted," she replied smoothly. Causing Harry to laugh before pulling her along and into the pub.

"Took you long enough," Ron said once they joined Hermione and him at a table.

"Yes, well we thought we'd just torture you for fun, Ronald," Ginny said taking her seat next to Hermione.

After pushing in her chair Harry took a seat across from her. He took her left hand in his and stroked the rings there, his own gold band bright in the light.

"So we are officially child free," Ron said happily. "I say we celebrate with a drink of firewhiskey."

"Honestly, Ron," Hermione said sternly, "you are acting worse than the children."

"He is worse than the children, Hermione," Ginny corrected with a smile.

Ron's ears turned pink.

Harry couldn't help but think, 'Some things never change.' "It's alright, mate. She said I was like them on the way here too."

Ron smiled at him. "You are though," he said. "Me on the other hand..."

Hermione laughed. "You are even worse than Harry, dear."

"Thank you, Hermione," Harry said as his friend's shade of red deepened.

Ron stood up. "I'll go get us drinks, what would you all like?" he asked.

"Butterbeer," Hermione replied.

"Make that two."

"Firewhiskey, Ron," Harry said. Ron nodded and walked away towards the bar.

"Dear, you rarely ever drink firewhiskey," Ginny said, concern dripping from her tone.

"I feel like it today," Harry said.

Ginny squeezed his hand. "Something's bothering you," she said, Harry noticed Hermione's face matching Ginny's.

"It's nothing, Ginny," he said, suddenly feeling ambushed. "I'll tell you later."

Ginny reached across the table with her free hand and brushed Harry's messy bangs from his eyes, she placed it on his cheek and sighed. "I wish you wouldn't keep things from me," she said.

Hermione stood. "I think I'll go help Ron with the drinks," she said before leaving the table quickly.

"We shouldn't be talking about this now," Harry said.

"You always do that. You always keep everything inside before it bursts out. Harry how long have you had this secret?" Ginny asked.

"Since the end of school. When the children returned. I'll tell you later," he said as Ron and Hermione rejoined them. Ron was looking between Harry and Ginny. Clearly Hermione had told him something was up.

Harry took a swig of firewhiskey and set it on the table. Ginny took her own drink, dropping her hand from his face, yet still grasping his hand.

"Well," Hermione said, breaking the awkward silence. "Hugo was thrilled to be going to Hogwarts. I've never seen anyone so excited. I don't know where he got it."

"I have a clue," Ginny said looking over at her brother, whose face turned the shade of his bright red hair. She winked at Harry and smiled at him.

He looked down at their entwined hands, remembering the first time he held her, in the Chamber of Secrets as she lay there near dead. The past coming back to haunt him again.

~

"Now tell me," Ginny said, stroking Harry's cheek as she sat on his lap in the living room.

Harry sighed at her. She would never let him keep a secret. "I've been having a bad feeling," he said as she played with his jet-black hair.

"What kind of feeling?" she asked, suddenly worried. "Why is your scar hurting?"

Harry sighed, yet again. "It's a feeling of foreboding, something's going to happen, it could be good or bad and my scar only itches," he replied.

"It itches?" she asked.

"Yes, something isn't doing anything to irritate it. It's warning me of something, but not bad, no, not bad. Otherwise it would be burning," he replied as Ginny placed her head on his chest.

"Maybe we should take a nap," she suggested. "We were both up early this morning."

Early was an understatement. If you called three in the morning early it was like saying Voldemort was only mean. It had taken them about an hour or so to get all three of their children from bed.

Lily had been awake the fastest, probably from excitement. Jumping up and almost knocking her Father down as she leaped into his arms, screaming about how she wished it was eleven.

Albus had taken about five minutes to wake, telling him that he'd be up in a minute or two before finally rousing himself from the bed.

James, however, had been a completely different story. He had taken a swing or two at Harry when he tried to pry his fingers from the pillow and knocked the wind out of him as he ripped back the blanket and sheets. After several threats of grounding and banning James from his broom next summer he finally relented and rolled out of bed. That alone had taken a half hour.

Harry nodded into her hair and they got up from the comfortable couch and climbing up the stairs and down the hallway to their bedroom.

Ginny grabbed her nightdress from the dresser and gave Harry a long, passionate kiss before stepping into their bathroom to change.

Harry, however, changed right there and lay down on the bed, flat on his stomach.

He heard the door open, and the mattress lowered slightly as Ginny crawled into bed as well. She laid her head on his shoulder and gently rubbed his back before he fell asleep.

~

Harry sat up, but he was not in his warm bed. He sat on a hard stone floor he had seen many times. The many moving paintings on the wall gave his setting away.

He was at Hogwarts.

Harry stood up and walked around a corner to find a girl looking at the tail of a cloak as it whipped out of sight. Her face was broken in pain for a moment before recomposing itself.

Harry looked into the girl's eyes as she seemed to remember something, then her eyes flashed scarlet. Causing him to wake with a jolt.

He looked over at his wife lying sound asleep next to him, not remembering anything from the dream but the scarlet eyes.