Along Came Riddle

Along Came Riddle

Chapter Three: "Are you stalking me?"

The nightly strolls Prefects and Head Boys and Girls had to endure were a demanding job, to say the least. For along with the occasional first and second-years sneaking off in the middle of the night to explore the castle--perhaps out of curiosity, but more likely based on foolishness--there were older students who harassed the Prefects who only looked out for their benefit.

"Sod off, you wanker!"

Oh yes, the insults were common as well.

"Get to your dormitory at once, Avery! You too, Donahue! And twenty points from Slytherin for disobeying curfew, disrespecting a higher authority, and engaging in sexual conduct in public!"

Minerva was glad the darkness hid her flushed cheeks.

"You're the only one who's part of the public, McGonagall!" Avery snarled at her, pulling out his wand.

"You put that wand right back where it came from, Avery!" Minerva snapped, ready to duel right there and then, her nerves getting antsy from waiting.

Two against one--wonderful!

Where was Bartemius when she needed him?

"Kiss my arse, McGonagall! Kiss it!" Avery then bent over and pulled down his trousers, showing Minerva a large view of his backside, and started slapping it. His girlfriend Donahue was having a giggle fit in the corner. Minerva meanwhile, looked ready to kill.

"PUT THAT AWAY RIGHT NOW BEFORE I DECIDE TO CHOP IT OFF!"

Before Avery turned around to expose more of his anatomy, another voice entered the fray...

"Avery, I'd advise you not to expose anymore of your...personal equipment in front of Minerva here. She's known for acting unstable, and something so impulsive might upset her."

Minerva swung around warily, wondering who the smug voice belonged to.

It was Tom. Tom with an enormous smirk on his face, gazing at her from the shadows. He then turned to Avery who was pulling his trousers up fast, grinning back at the Slytherin Prefect. Donahue gave Tom a wink, which he brushed off with a cool stare.

"Sorry, Tom. I just got a little carried away back there, seeing as Minerva here can't respect a man's privacy--"

"How dare you talk to me like that, you--"

"What Minerva means to say, is don't let it happen again, Avery. We don't want to lose Slytherin any more points, now do we?" Tom straightened his robes for a moment, then looked at Minerva, but quickly turned his gaze back to Avery and Donahue, stating clearly as if to a child, "It's better if you return to your dormitories before you encounter someone more unpleasant than Minerva here...though it does seem impossible. But you can never be too careful, now can you, Avery?"

Avery nodded, putting an arm over his girlfriend's shoulders. They strutted past Minerva, glaring at her. She met their glares with wide eyes and a puffed chest, her face redder than her Gryffindor robes. Donahue whispered in Avery's ear lightly, but loud enough for Minerva to catch.

"Tom was so right about that girl, wasn't he?"

Bloody fifth-year--insolent--ARGH!

She couldn't even think properly, rubbing her head like a mad woman, messing up her hair and sputtering incoherently to herself. Oh how she wished she could transform them all into Lemon Drops, and let Professor Dumbledore eat them.

Scratch that. Turn them into talking Lemon Drops, so she could hear them cry in despair while Dumbledore crushed them with his teeth. Cry in despair with whiny, little Slytherin voices! Yes, talking Lemon Drops...that'd take care of them...

"Minerva, may I ask why you're whispering angrily to yourself while smiling?" Tom inquired with a raised eyebrow, questioning her contradictory nature.

If it was possible for Minerva's face to get any redder, it would have. She gaped at him with her mouth hanging half-open for a brief moment, closing it up and down, but finally had the sense to turn away from him, calling out at him coldly, "What ever I do or say, Riddle, is none of your concern."

"So it should be none of my concern if you begin hissing in demonic tongues?"

Minerva huffed loudly, but continued walking away from him nevertheless, trying to repeat the mantra in her head to maintain whatever sanity she had left...

Ignore the prat... Ignore the prat... Just. Ignore. The. Prat.

"--I guess I should just tell dear Barty about your worrying tendencies. I'm sure he has connections to people who specialize at St. Mungo's..."

Ignore the prat with his big fat Slytherin mouth. Just ignore--

"I mean, if you're so ungrateful when someone gets rid of troublemakers for you and asks if you're all right, and then you start muttering to yourself, there's bound to be something wrong with you..."

"I'm ungrateful?" she shouted at him while swerving around to face him, ready to get out her wand and sew his mouth shut permanently. She couldn't believe this guy. People practically kissed his skinny, probably chalk-white, little arse, and yet he treated them like something he'd wipe off of it. And he was calling her ungrateful? How could anyone be so damn hypocritical? It was absurd, insane even!

"Do I need to repeat myself? Not that I care, Minerva, but you could have at least thanked me for getting rid of Avery and Donahue for you. Not that I did it for you; I simply don't favour you taking twenty points away from my house... And Avery wouldn't have backed down, since he can't even recognize his mouth from his backside; he's rather primitive, and annoying."

Minerva was about to curse him, but his last statement made her lip twitch in amusement. Catching herself, she went back to walking away from him to check the second floor. She wouldn't allow herself to find anything he said funny, even if they did both agree on Avery.

"Where exactly are you going, Minerva?"

"Where ever I feel like going, Riddle. But if you must know, I'm about to check the second floor," she answered tersely, pursing her lips as she turned the corner. She stopped for a second to fix her bun back into its neat form with agitation, frustrated when thinking about how she had made a complete spectacle of herself back there.

She heard running, and immediately a hand clamped onto her shoulder, grabbing it firmly.

"Get your hand off me!" Minerva turned around to see Tom out of breath, but attempting to cover it up with a cough.

Minerva looked at him more closely, noticing he seemed a bit paler than his typical self, making him look even more like a vampire. She winced slightly at the notion of him actually being one. ...He did appear pale, sweaty, and his eyes were examining her rapidly--perhaps even her neck!

Calm down, Minerva; you're acting childishly. It's late, and you're imagining things, so just shrug him off and get back to your Prefect duties.

And what was he doing skulking around at night? He was so sneaky about it to, like he almost appeared out of nowhere. Was he stalking her now? His threat too! He threatened to kill her. And his dark hair, his charming ways that even teachers adored, that pale skin--and those pointed, white teeth!

"Get away from me, you vampire!"

Minerva flung his hand off her, backing away from him in a blur, her wand now out. Her breathing was rough while her chest expanded and retracted with haste, her eyes beady and carefully watching his every movement. She wouldn't let him suck her blood and kill her; she wouldn't!

Tom on the other hand, blinked, surprised perhaps. This soon faded into laughter, cynical, bastardly laughter.

"What? Minerva, are you all right in there? Do you need me to take you to Madam Pomfrey? Or perhaps an exorcist?"

Minerva scowled, but her wand remained steady and fixed at him. She needed to know. "Well, are you?"

Tom smirked, showing his teeth, probably in way of mocking her claims. "No, Minerva, I'm not a vampire. I'm merely here with a paranoid Gryffindor who fails to see I'm fair-skinned and appealing. And the offer still stands to escort you to the Hospital Wing, since you seem in dire need of it."

She rolled her eyes at him. He was such an arrogant prat.

"Right, well, I'm going to the second floor now. It's part of my duties to check it." She felt ridiculous. Minerva couldn't believe she'd just accused him of being a vampire--without any proof! She was sure to hear about this one from the Slytherins in Potions tomorrow...

"No you're not..."

"What do you mean, I'm not?" Minerva flicked her eyes at him in suspicion. What did he want with her exactly?

"I mean, it's against the rules for Prefects to wander around, without their fellow Prefect of their house and year. You can check the school rules if you don't believe me."

How did he know that?

"Well then, what were you doing wandering the corridors at night? I don't see a Slytherin fifth-year girl tailing behind you!"

"I was giving Francine Zabini privacy, since she needed to take care of some...feminine issues... So why were you alone, Minerva?" His face held a leer, most likely thinking he'd cornered her into something.

"If you must know, Gabriel Ackerly lets me walk the corridors without his attendance, so Bartemius can patrol with me when he meets me at the Gryffindor portrait. He is after all, the Ravenclaw Head Boy; he can patrol alone or with company." Minerva gave him a small smirk.

Take that, know-it-all!

"Well, rules are rules, which means you still have to be escorted by me. And we're going to the dungeons first."

Minerva scoffed at him. Unbelievable. "Who says you dictate where we go first? I'm going to the second floor. It's my duty to check that floor, and I need it done tonight."

"The dungeons will be less of an effort to walk to, since they're downward."

"Try saying that walking back up from them!"

"You're being irrational, Minerva. It's easier for both of us to patrol the dungeons first. The staircase leading down to them is only a corridor away, while the stairs leading to the second floor are two corridors further. We'll save more time if we do it my way." His eyes looked down on her with triumph.

Minerva made an impatient noise with her throat. "Fine. We'll do it your way if you're going to be so persistent about the matter."

Tom smirked at her in a condescending manner, forcing Minerva to look away from him and start heading toward the dungeons. She hated that smirk; it was the devil.

They strolled in silence... Bitter silence, Minerva added to herself resentfully. She'd much rather be patrolling with Bartemius right now; he'd make her feel comforted in the creepy, cold dungeon.

Minerva grinned with pleasure. Oh yes, yes he would.

Minerva looked at Tom quickly; he seemed so at home skulking around the dark dungeon corridors at night. It was almost eerie. She glanced far away from where he walked, pondering. He couldn't be full human, that's for sure.

She sighed quietly. Where was Bartemius anyway? It had been at least an hour ago when they were supposed to meet at the portrait. What was holding him up?

And then the strangest thought hit her.

"I'm going to the second floor. Right now."

Minerva was sprinting, blazing past the Potions classrooms, hoping with every ounce of her being that she would be quick enough. She could hear herself panting, the thump of her heart pressing against her ribcage in protest, and feel the sweat on her brow. The fingers wrapped around her wand were quivering. Something, she wasn't sure exactly what, but something was wrong with this scenario. Her stomach was telling her so. And this time, she would listen to it.

Out of breath, Minerva reached the edge of the second floor. Her strides were brisk, but careful of where they landed, frightened at what she might come across here. The clapping of her shoes reached a stop.

There were two figures lying on the floor, and the wall--the polished stone wall, next to the girls bathroom held one brief message...

The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware.

Her eyes widened in horror, and her stomach dropped.

She looked down to the figures before her with apprehension; there was a Hufflepuff Prefect holding a small mirror in her left hand, a tube of lipstick in her right. It was strange... She was stiff and unmoving, almost as if she were carved from marble. But her eyes held shock, and her mouth gaped in fear.

And the second figure... The second figure...

"Bartemius!"

Her cry echoed around the corridor walls while Minerva flung herself on him. He was limp, unlike the other girl, and this scared her more than anything.

"Bartemius, get up! Bartemius--Barty, please get up!" She was shaking his limp body, pounding on his chest, her eyes desperately searching for any kind of movement. She was crying now, whimpering over his body like some little girl who was lost and couldn't find her mummy or daddy. Her breathing was to the point of hysterics when...

"Min--Minerva? What happened? Why am I on the floor?"

"Bartemius! Oh, thank heavens!"

Minerva threw her arms around his body, pulling him into a fierce embrace. She began wiping off her tears and laughing with relief; for a moment there she had thought he was dead. Minerva could feel Bartemius wrap himself around her tightly, kissing her forehead with tender affection.

They let go, now standing up to examine the girl. But there wasn't much to examine, really, other than that she couldn't move. Bartemius peered more closely at her face, then body angle, then to her face again; he was meditating on something.

"She looks...petrified..." he breathed while crouching by her, two fingers under his chin while his elbows rested on his knees.

Minerva turned her head to the wall, brushing the message with her hand. It was still wet with red paint, but it smelled like--

"It's blood!" Minerva cried in disgust. She and Bartemius looked at each other.

"We really need to get the Headmaster, Minerva."

Before they started to head to the Headmaster's office, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

"First, you need to get that petrified girl over there to the Hospital Wing; she's bound to need some medical attention." Tom glided out of the dark, looking quickly at Minerva and Bartemius, then to the Hufflepuff Prefect, and then back at Bartemius.

"Which makes me wonder," Tom drawled, raising an eyebrow, "what exactly were you doing with a petrified girl this late at night, Barty?"

Minerva raised her eyebrows, looking from one boy to the other, starting to wonder the same thing. Bartemius, however, looked confused, as if wondering why he was on the ground in the first place.

"I--I don't remember... And don't call me Barty."

"How coincidental. You don't remember--"

"Now wait just a minute here, Riddle! We don't know anything for sure yet. So it's best that you keep your suspicions to yourself! And I for one believe Bartemius." Minerva glared at Tom as if daring him to give her reason to curse him.

"Well, I for one, don't, Minerva. And your opinion's rather biased, since Bartemius is your--"

"My opinion is not biased, Riddle, thank you very much!" She edged toward her wand now, itching to use a Silencing Charm on him.

"And I'd rather you not be insulting my girlfriend, Riddle. Because if you do it again in my presence, I'll make you regret it," Bartemius intervened, looking coldly at him as if Tom were something on his shoe that he couldn't wipe off. Bartemius then glanced toward Minerva, softening his expression immediately.

"Minerva, we need to get the Headmaster to see this, or perhaps the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore would be easier to reach..."

"Then Professor Dumbledore it is."

Within a few minutes, the three of them were escorting Dumbledore from his office to the scene of the crime, Dumbledore eager to get there as soon as possible. The three students backed away, leaning on the corridor wall, watching Dumbledore work at examining her. The Professor kept muttering charms and counter-curses under his breath. Nothing seemed to work.

"You were right, Bartemius," Dumbledore breathed, "she was petrified...but by what or how...I cannot say..."

Minerva could feel the hairs rising off her body. She instantly grabbed a hold of Bartemius' arm on impulse. He then placed her hand into his, squeezing it tight, giving her a small smile that said, 'I'll keep you safe, I promise.'

"You're very lucky, Bartemius, that you were not petrified. There's a very strong curse on this poor girl, and only a potion made from mandrakes can revive her. You are...very, very lucky," Dumbledore mused while Minerva beamed up at Bartemius, thankful he had luck on his side.

But Tom...

Minerva glanced at Tom, who seemed to be sneering at Bartemius, clearly not happy Bartemius was lucky at all. And somehow, somehow, Minerva knew he was angry about it. As if something had gone wrong.

And it sickened her.

"Tom, Minerva; the two of you are to go to your common rooms straight away. I need to have a word with Bartemius." Dumbledore gestured him over while Bartemius gave Minerva a, 'Don't worry, I'll be fine,' look. But Minerva wasn't quite so sure anymore.

Tom and Minerva walked down the corridor, each keeping to themselves as their shoes clacked on the floor. Minerva was biting her lip the whole time; there was something prodding at her in the back of her mind. And when they finally reached the third floor staircase, Minerva stopped. She needed to know.

"Tom?"

He stopped as well. His face turned to meet hers; there was a hint of astonishment written on it.

"Yes, Minerva?"

"Why did you insist I come with you to the dungeons?"

There was no spite in her voice. She had tried to sound casual, hoping perhaps she could catch him off guard for a real answer. He looked her in the eyes, and slowly his face turned cold.

"I was bored, Minerva. And your overreaction to things can be amusing."

As Tom Riddle strode away from her, turning the corner while his Slytherin robes flapped back at her in a wave of farewell, Minerva pondered his answer. There was something lurking behind it, something that left an unpleasant taste in her mouth. ...Something much more sinister... Something, that could be summed up with one word.

"Bollocks."