Tres Tria

Tres Tria

By Fire & Ice

Chapter 4: An Advance

The next morning, Tom woke with a steely resolve to discover more about his parentage. The thing was; where to start? He had two names... well, three, if you counted the mention of a brother; Mariah Vida, Adrianna Feverfew, and another Vida family member-- first name presumably beginning with an 'L'-- in seventh year, assuming Louis' memory had served correctly. Tom wasn't entirely sure that he trusted Louis' memory; he wasn't the most reliable source, after all.

Tom decided as he gulped down his tea that his best bet was to find the brother. Mariah and Adrianna could all too easily have been married since they attended school, in which case the change in name would make trying to owl them directly pointless. Besides, he'd never used Gobnet before, and wasn't sure he trusted her with something like this. The whole 'owl' postal system seemed a bit dodgy to Tom. How was he supposed to feel comfortable entrusting something important to a bird?

Best get his facts straight before he went off to Gobnet.

Further grilling of Louis had proved fruitless--he evidently cared little for his sister's enamoured ramblings (not that Tom could blame him; he'd witnessed firsthand the utter boredom that settled over the room when teenaged girls got themselves started on the object of their affection)--although it seemed that he remembered her mentioning that Vida liked Quidditch, and that his sister, Felicity, played keeper for the Ravenclaw team.

Even if Vida wasn't on the team, Tom supposed, he could at least ask some Ravenclaws where he might find Felicity.

He wondered to himself what exactly he would say to either of them, assuming that he could find them in the rats-maze of corridors that formed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

All he needed was Mariah Vida's married name... and maybe the other girl's, Adrianna's, too... that would be sufficient to be able to owl them both, asking for details of his mother... and possibly father? However much Tom hated him, it would be nice to at least have a name, or even a face.

But how to phrase it? He had a rather odd image projected in his head, of him simply walking up to Luke, sticking out his hand, and saying "'Lo there, Luke! I've heard from a particularly unreliable source that your older sister was best friends with my dead mum! What say you give me her married name so I can get to reminiscing!"

That, rather obviously, wouldn't work. I suppose I'm just going to trust that to spontaneity. Something'll come to me when I need it to...I hope, anyway.

Tom had vague memories of where the Ravenclaw Loft lay from going in that direction with Louis before. It was near the Astronomy Tower, perched loftily above the rest of the school building, light and airy. He made his way towards it, keeping an eye out for any Ravenclaw students who looked as though they might be in their seventh year.

The first person Tom accosted was an irate-looking boy, who snapped at him that he had never heard the name, before bustling on, muttering self-importantly to the otherwise empty corridor. Nutter, Tom thought absently as he watched the boy round the corner. You certainly can find all sorts of oddballs around this madhouse, can't you?

Two older girls, who were exchanging friendly jibes, and would have ignored him completely if he had not interrupted them, soon appeared from around a corner.

"Excuse me, please?"

The taller girl, a blonde with clever features, smiled at him. "Hello there!" The other, a redhead, who seemed to watch him with her front teeth, nodded at him in friendly acknowledgement. They watched him, waiting for his query.

"Er... hello. Could you tell me, please, where... either Felicity Gilbert or Something-or-other Vida is?"

To his surprise, both girls started to giggle. "Something-or-other Vida? You must mean Luke Vida!" The redhead grinned at him.

"Yes. I think so," Tom said stolidly.

"Merry!" She turned to her friend, ignoring Tom, much to his great annoyance. "Ain't he that rather fetching Beater?" They started to giggle again.

"Rather!" The blonde girl called Merry turned back to Tom. "Why, what do you want with him, kid?" She seemed to want a reason why she should share confidential information with him. Honestly, Tom thought, rolling his eyes inconspicuously.

"I need to ask him some things. That's all." That's all, because it is absolutely none of your business, you nosy witch. He regarded the two stonily. This fact, however, either didn't occur to them, or they frankly didn't care.

"Of course you do. Why do I ask?" The other girl mocked him. "But, tragic as it is, the name Felicity Gilbert fails to ring even a distant bell..."

"Yeah, you know her, Rach!" Merry butted in, shaking her head in exasperation. "That girl with the curly hair! The sixth year, with brown, curly hair, about as tall as me? The one who plays Keeper for us, that's always throwing herself at Luke--"

"Oh, you mean Fij!"

"Who else would he mean, you silly bint?"

"I don't know; I don't think of her as a Felicity. It doesn't suit her."

"Well, suit her or not, you ought to know--"

"Yes, well, anyway," Tom interrupted desperately, lest the two girls should get completely side-tracked and continue in this way all day, "can you tell me where to find either of them?"

"Of course." Merry smiled at him and flipped her hair in a manner that suggested that any girl worth her cosmetics would have the Vida boy's exact location pinpointed at any given moment.

Tom hesitated for a moment, waiting for information that didn't seem to be coming. Merry grinned, waiting. She seemed to be baiting him. "Where, then?" Tom finally resorted to asking, after a very long hesitation.

"Quidditch pitch, naturally!" Merry giggled at Tom's foolish question. "Practising, I suppose; really, you don't get so amazingly amazing by sitting around in your common room!" The two girls sighed in unison, and Rachel had melodramatically lifted her hand to her cheek.

"Of course." Tom resisted the temptation to lapse into total sarcasm, deciding that maybe not all Ravenclaws were as clever as they made out. "Thank you." ...for nothing, you vapid little girls he added mentally.

"No problemo, mate."

"You know where the Quidditch pitch is, do you?" Merry smiled at him, somewhat hopefully.

"Yes," Tom said, only half- truthfully. He'd only been there once, but he had a feeling that the large sports ground couldn't be too hard to find again, even on his own. And having one of these twits leading him there was not something he fancied.

"Pity." The two girls exchanged amused glances.

"There're no spaces on the team for anyone, in case you're wondering, by the way," Rachel informed him, giving him a bemused look. "Especially not for a ickle Slytherin firstie."

"I'd kind of worked that out for myself, thank you." Tom rolled his eyes.

"Well, okay then. Be seeing you, mate." Rachel waved him off.

"G'd luck with Luke. I just hope you don't get lost. It's easy to get lost when you don't know your way around. I remember I got lost once. Theo Green helped me find my way. He's such a darling." Merry grinned dreamily, probably imagining herself being guided by this Theo Green.

"Must be going now," Rachel reminded Merry, shaking her out of the stupor.

"Yep. Mustn't keep anyone waiting! Now, Rach, I heard James Prentice and Aidan Resner are going to be in the Entrance Hall in about fifteen minutes...if we get there early we might be able to--"

The two girls ducked off, presumably off to reapply their lip-gloss and assume their positions behind statues, lurking in ambush for the next attractive bloke who happened by. They were inexcusably mindless and irritating, Tom felt, and he was left with the overwhelming feeling that he needed to go and bang his head against a wall. Most likely, many times over.

Gathering up what patience he had left, Tom retraced his steps to the Entrance Hall. This took him quite a bit longer than it should have, as he had taken the wrong staircase and found himself at the base of the Divination tower. After begging information from a portrait (and listening to a long lecture on the importance of being aware of your surroundings) of an aged and slightly mad-looking Auror, he had resumed his trek.

When Tom finally reached the outdoors, faint shouts and shrieks echoed from his left, from the Pitch.

Retracting his hands back into the warm confines of his school robes, he began wishing he had remembered his cloak. As much as he longed for the thick wool, traipsing back to the dungeons and chancing torment in the common room was far more trouble than the cloak was worth.

As he peeked around the wood-and-canvas entrance frame, a chorus of oohs and aahs drifted down from the stands above him. Glancing up, he saw that two dozen or so spectators, mostly of the female variety, occupied the bleachers, all houses and most years apparently accounted for.

It was obviously an unofficial practice; not only were there a few Ravenclaws on brooms, three Hufflepuffs zoomed about, tossing the quaffle back and forth, and a single Gryffindor girl was performing dives, drawing gasps and murmurs of awe. There were no Slytherin players in sight.

When Tom took a seat, a gaggle of girls in front of him were whispering in what they must have thought were conspiratorial tones. The conversation seemed to be exclusively devoted to Quidditch, rather unsurprisingly.

"Can you believe those girls? It's so unladylike!" a freckle-faced Ravenclaw said to her neighbour, her voice ranging between a whine and a whisper. "And they're not even that good. Everyone knows the good girls don't play rough, dangerous sports. And yet they're the only ones he'll even look at, much less talk to. Felicity Gilbert especially. She's not even pretty! At least the other girl players are a bit cute. Why is she so chummy with Luke? It isn't fair!" she wailed.

"Mmm," her seatmate, a pretty girl with auburn hair and, apparently, zero interest in Quidditch, agreed congenially, her eyes never leaving a hefty-looking textbook that lay open on her lap. Tom shared her feelings, and found himself trying to peek over her shoulder. Whatever book she held, it had to be exponentially more interesting that listening to a teenage girl wail on about the unfairness of life and love.

Some of the others, however, didn't share her sentiment.

"They're so lucky!" a skinny Hufflepuff with dirty blonde hair and bony knees murmured, her voice laced with jealousy. "I wish I could play Quidditch. My mum and dad won't sign the consent form, though. I think it's positively stupid that girls have to have parental permission, but the boys can do whatever they please. Where's the justice in that?"

Most of the other girls' conversations were observations about the boys. Luke Vida was, by far, the most popular player on the pitch, if the sighing, smiling, giggling, and pointing whenever he passed were anything to go by.

"Excuse me," Tom tapped the freckly Ravenclaw on the shoulder. She seemed to be the best bet, as she had mentioned both Felicity and Luke, so she apparently knew who they were.

"Yes?" she said, twisting around to see him.

"Which players are Luke Vida and Felicity Gilbert? I need to talk to them, but I don't know what they look like."

"Oh, that's easy." She squinted at the players, shielding her eyes from the bright morning sun with her hand. "See the boy with dark hair? He's tall, very well built, and he looks a bit exotic." She paused and giggled nervously. "He's the only Ravenclaw holding a bat," she added, pointing. Tom followed her finger and made a mental note.

"And Felicity Gilbert," she muttered, dislike injected into her words. "Her. Long curly brown hair. She's chatting with Elspeth MacPherson, the Gryffindor Seeker. Near the goals. That's Gilbert." She carelessly waved her hand to where a tall brunette and a tiny black-haired girl in scarlet robes hovered at the far end of the pitch, apparently having an entertaining conversation, as they both started howling at some unknown joke between the two of them, their laughter carrying faintly into the stands.

"Right. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Freckles turned back around and resumed her conversation with her friend, who was still nodding agreeably whenever the freckly girl paused, waiting for some type of affirmation.

Tom stood up and returned to the entrance gate, waiting for one of his targets to leave the pitch.

Nearly two hours later, when Tom was seriously considering giving up for the day and going back inside, a group of approximately five people walked past him, chattering and laughing animatedly. A number of the girls from the stand followed behind, woefully trying to look as if they were doing anything and everything but stare adoringly into the group of Quidditch players in front of them.

Tom immediately recognised Luke in the centre, his height making him really hard to miss. Shaking off his chill-induced stupor, he stumbled after them, trying to worm his way into the mass.

"L-Luke! Luke Vida!" he stammered, trying to shove his way in between two Hufflepuffs. The crowd stopped, and Luke pushed his way through the others until he was standing in front of Tom. Luke looked down at him, a bemused expression on his face.

"Yeah? What is it, er--"

"T-Tom. T-Tom R-Rid-Riddle," Tom managed to get out between chattering teeth. For some reason, he felt incredibly cold all of a sudden.

"Oh--oh, you poor dear! You're freezing. Luke, how can you just stand there? The poor child is nearly blue!" a high female voice came from behind the two Hufflepuff boys. The Gryffindor girl, the one who had been laughing with Felicity, came hurrying up next to him. She quickly pulled off her scarlet Quidditch robes and wrapped him in it.

Tom pulled the body-warmed robes around him tighter, nodding gratefully at the tiny girl who stood scant centimetres above him. "Are you all right? You look absolutely terrible, not to be mean. How long have you been out here, kid?" She smiled at him gently, and Tom was beginning to think that not it was not all Gryffindors signed pacts with Satan upon their Sorting into said House.

"Erm--" Tom was loath to admit he'd been waiting around for nearly two hours in the cold, without his cloak. He'd mentally formed the sentence, and immediately discarded it because it sounded completely idiotic. "Not that long," he said vaguely, "and I'm fine. Thanks for this--" he indicated the cloak.

"Oh, not a problem. And, is there anything else we can help you with? You were looking for Luke?" She cast a suspicious glance back towards Luke, who was looking somewhat sheepish. "What can he do for you, er-Tom." She smiled brightly at him. "Oh, by the way, my name's Elspeth. MacPherson, if you're wondering, but just call me Ella, and that's Daniel Spade, and Christopher Tallmadge," she indicated the two Hufflepuff boys, who were smiling at her admiringly. They waved obligingly at Tom when Elspeth said their names, "And this," she tossed her head back to indicate Felicity, "is Felicity Gilbert, but everyone calls her Fij. And I suppose you know Luke," she finished.

"Right, Ella, lovely work." Luke said, picking up her hand. Elspeth looked up at him (quite a height difference there, Tom thought absently. From where she stood, Elspeth had an unrivalled view of Luke's stomach) and raised her eyebrows slightly.

Tom stole a look at Felicity, who seemed to be having an avid staring contest with Luke and Elspeth's joined hands. She looked none too happy about it.

Elspeth surreptitiously extracted her hand from Luke's. Luke looked down at her, and they seemed to carry on a silent dialogue over the next few seconds. Elspeth nodded over towards Tom, who voicelessly rejoiced.

"So, er, Tom, what can I do for you?" he asked awkwardly.

"Well, erm--" Tom considered for a moment, "My mum used to have an old school friend, named Mariah Vida. I was wondering if she's your relative, and, if she is, I'd like to know how to contact her."

Wow, that was much easier than I imagined. And I didn't even have to mention the fact that my mum is dead...

"Mariah--yep, that's my older sister. Here I'll give you her name and address. Does anyone have a quill and some parchment?" he asked, after turning out his pockets. He looked around at the other players, who all shrugged.

"Sorry, mate," Christopher said, indicating his lack of a school bag.

"I don't have one," Daniel added in.

"I don't, either," Felicity said cuttingly, obviously still sore about Luke's advances on Elspeth.

There was an excited twittering from the group of girls who had stopped a little behind them. Tom watched interestedly as a small scuffle broke out over a quill and a scrap of parchment that one of the girls had 'liberated' from the book sack belonging to the auburn-haired girl Tom had noticed in the stand. After a few seconds, the victor, a large, frowsy-haired brunette with a number of rather obvious spots, approached the players and shyly handed the writing tools to Luke.

"Thanks," he said quickly, as he took the quill and parchment and began to scribble something down. The girl frowned; obviously this was not her idea of adequate thanks. She returned to the group, greeted by the auburn-haired girl's hiss of "But what about my quill?!"

When Luke had finished writing, he held the quill out. The redhead scowled at the others before stolidly marching up to retrieve it. Luke handed off the quill indifferently, but immediately snapped his head back up when he caught sight of her. She was, apparently, more worthy of his attention than the brunette.

"Thanks," he said again, smiling in a way that seemed to set the girls behind into a twitter. "Er, Charlotte, isn't it? You're Fifth Year, right?"

"Pfft," Charlotte dismissed him, rolling her eyes. She turned on her heel and sauntered back to her friends, who were glowering enviously. Tom resisted the urge to cheer her on. Charlotte seemed to be much more intelligent than the others.

"Well, anyway, here you are, Tommy." Tom winced at the name. God, he hated it when people called him that.

Tom glanced down at the piece of paper. Well, useless or not, Luke had given Tom what he wanted.

"Well, if that's all you'll be needing...?" Luke trailed off.

"Yeah, that's it," Tom said curtly.

"Must be going then," Luke said airily, draping his arm around Elspeth, who made no move to shrug him off, although she did roll her eyes and smile lightly at Tom.

"Oh, you'll be wanting this--" Tom moved to extract himself from Elspeth's bright Quidditch robes.

"Oh, no, it's fine. Just leave them on the floor in your dorm; the house elves will get them back to me." She smiled. "See you around, kid."

As they moved off back towards the castle, Tom got his first chance to read over the note.

Mariah Black

12 Grimmauld Place

London