Savior of Darkness

Chapter 11: Possibly Worth the Wait

Mudbloods... deserved it...

The words didn't have to be repeated. They rang continuously in Percy's ears as he hauled Tom to his feet and rushed him to the infirmary, giving stern looks at any who stared.

As usual, the infirmary was busy in every sense but décor. Percy threaded his way through, depositing Tom where he was told. Tom, for his part, let himself be guided, an unhealthy sheen in his eyes. As Madame Pomfrey approached and bustled over Tom, Percy kept himself plastered against the wall, feeling chilled. The energy the septic setting gave off unnerved him. Tom soon seemed to be suffering a similar fate. As soon as Pomfrey touched him Tom visibly tensed, snapping out of his daze. His eyes wide and unblinking, he clearly hesitated to lie back. Percy took a long look at the other boy. He's afraid to sleep. It made sense. From what Percy had seen, Tom's mind wracked merciless havoc upon itself. To lose any further control, even in the natural state of sleep, had to be terrifying.

A young Ravenclaw across the room stirred and Nurse Pomfrey automatically turned in the student's direction. However, something - and Percy had a guess at what - stopped her. She turned back to Tom, then Percy, then the first year, her loose tendrils of hair whipping her cheeks. Finally, in a frazzled voice she said, "Percy, could you see what Cho needs? If it's serious, just, erm, stay there and I'll come."
Regardless of the request, Percy wavered long enough for a final, cautious look at his charge. Tom was busy drinking about seven potions Pomfrey was laying out for him. His face showed clear dissatisfaction, but no real pain. The chilling fog had also lifted from his eyes.

"A-hem." The pointed noise from Pomfrey snapped Percy to attention.

Treading across the hospital wing, he came up to the little girl. She had large black eyes that peered inquisitively up at him as a small lip protruded dubiously. Awkwardly giving her a smile he felt formal but Fred called corpse-like, he asked, "Are you in need of something?"

She paused so long he asked even stiffer, "did you understand me?"

"Yes."

He felt her studying him, not deeply, but curiously. He opened his mouth again, giving a furtive glance at Pomfrey. The girl followed his line of sight and asked, "Is he going to die?"

"No." The answer come out quite firmly, surprising Percy. Merlin, his nerves were rattled. In a softer tone he began again with, "he's just exhausted -"

"He looks like death. I've seen it in pictures." She gave a solemn nod. Her providing evidence in support of her declaration was similar to Penny and most Ravenclaws he knew. That brought a smile to his face as he asked, "May I ask your name?"

"Cho Chang," she said simply, and then added, "I already know who you are. You've got the Gryffindor prefect badge on, so you must be Percy Weasley."

Was he still wearing the badge? Percy's fingers went unconsciously to touch the gleaming silver. He shouldn't be surprised that he was. Really, he wore it all the time at Hogwarts. It was proper procedure. And, well... he just liked to. But it now made him self-conscious, and his voice gained some stiffness as he repeated, "did you need anything?"

She gave a small nod. "Some more water would be nice."

"I'd have to ask Madame Pomfrey if that is possible," Percy quickly said.

"For water?"

Bristling, he snapped, "Well I don't know what's wrong or what's going on. You want me to just blindly agree to something that may seem harmless when taking the time to ask a simple question -"

"You know, I'm not that thirsty..." She ducked further down on the bed, preparing for sleep or looking for the nearest exit away from him.

He was also glad for the excuse to leave. Giving her a small nod, he spun and returned to Tom's bed. Located there now were Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Snape. Tom himself was miserably holding a potion. One hand was resting on his stomach, and Percy winced in sympathy. Pomfrey might be effective, but her remedies were sometimes - often - less than pleasant. Percy felt guilty, as though Tom's current state was somehow due to Percy's inability to look out for him. Automatically Percy went to Tom's side, offering to place the glass upon the table. Tom seemed only too eager for a break from the medicine.

Professor Snape drew Percy's attention then with his familiar, if undesirable, voice. "Perhaps Mr. Weasley should take a break from assisting right now, Headmaster?"

Dumbledore shook his head, eyes calm as he carefully considered both boys. "No, Severus. I would rather do something a bit different. The exact opposite, to be right." A hint of a smile was somehow visible behind his beard. He pulled a chair up, lowering his body to Tom's level by sitting. He motioned for Snape to join him, and nodded at the glass upon the table. "Drink up, Mr. Riddle - if you can, I know, it is horrid - and Percy, would you please begin with what you saw?"

Feeling rather put on the spot, Percy's mind blanked. His jaw didn't work, and he nearly flushed as Snape's eyes rolled at his delay. Turning to Dumbledore for assistance, he found the Headmaster was not even focusing on him. Dumbledore's eyes were situated on Tom, who was cringingly sipping the potion. For one odd moment he reminded Percy of Ginny. His little sister had always worn the saddest puppy-eyes whenever their Mum had handed her a tonic, and then changed her expression to a stubborn scowl when the ruse didn't work. And yet, she never gave up on the effort to evade medicine, merely trying to perfect her pathetic appearance as their eldest sibling, Bill, had used with many successful outcomes. She'd been getting more efficient at it. In the last few years, Percy thought she'd surpassed even the twins in utilizing that gimmick in every area other than their mum's medical administrations. When any of them were sick, their mum wouldn't budge for anything. Still, Ginny had -

"Miming the experience is not working for me, Mr. Weasley. Care to explain your smile?"

Snape's voice was thin and pointed, jabbing at Percy and deflating the warm bubble of that memory until it lay flat and was discarded by his mind. Back he was to the infirmary, where his most recent failure lay before him. Tom looked pale - deathly pale. Without thinking, Percy shifted his gaze to the one who had snapped him back to this reality.

Snape's face was positively grey, a strained, pinched look to it as he held himself at an awkward angle. More puzzled than concerned, Percy squinted unconsciously, trying to decipher what could cause Snape to display such blatant pain. Before he made any sense of it, though, Snape turned his head, effectively blocking any clear view Percy might have had of him, while giving him a vicious glare from the one eye within Percy's sight. Probably it was the result of a first year's failed homework assignment.

Percy opened his mouth to apologize for staring when Tom's voice rang out.

"You look dreadful."

All three turned to Tom, and Snape's eyes widened briefly, and then seemed to glare internally. In avoiding Percy's eyes, he'd given Tom a clear view of his face. Tom was looking back at the Potions Master with seeming indifference. A moment passed, and then Tom reached his hand up to his own face, indicating. "The shadows right there, I mean. And the pallor? It -"

"I know."

Tom shrugged. "Only making sure."

At that point, Dumbledore raised his hand. "Tom, I'm sure Severus appreciates your concern. But right now, I would like to hear from Percy." Tom looked sullen for a moment, and then shrugged again, picking up his glass. Such behavior seemed odd of his charge, and Percy gave Tom a quizzical stare as Tom went on to speak.

"Fine by me." Then, as if realizing how petulant he'd sounded, he added, "Forgive me, Percy. I don't know why I intruded. I would say it was out of character..."

Percy almost laughed. True, Tom utterly irritated him at times. But in other situations, like this one, with riling Snape and mocking his situation, he put Percy at ease.

And then, at other times, he was saying Mudbloods deserved to die.

Percy's snort of laughter sobered into a shiver. Staring at Tom now, he couldn't image him saying those words. Certainly, Tom was a bit condescending at times, but... it was such a horrid thing to say. Surely he hadn't - he wouldn't -

He was just paranoid because Penny was so recently recovered. Dumbledore trusted Tom. Didn't he?
Suddenly Snape seemed like an easier object to rest his gaze upon, and the world a much less reasonable place for it.

Clearing his throat, knowing all three were awaiting his account, Percy began. "Well, Tom and I were in the library. I thought history might be a good subject to start with. Muggle history, mostly, since Professor McGonagall is working on the history of magic. Well, plain Muggle history and some history of Muggle interactions with magic -"

"Which books?" Snape interrupted. He lacked Dumbledore's ability to make such a cut-in not feel intrusive, but somehow Percy didn't mind that time. Perhaps it was due to Snape's intent gaze.
"Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles, Muggles Who Notice, and The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why Muggles Prefer Not to Know."

Snape and Dumbledore shared a look that Percy couldn't decipher. It didn't seem Tom could, either. They in turn gave each other frustrated looks, before Percy continued. "Anyway, then Hermione came into the library."

Again, Dumbledore was regarding Tom. Riddle, for his part, was watching Percy keenly.

"I spoke with her briefly, telling her she shouldn't be up and about just yet. I introduced her to Tom... well, he began the introduction himself, really -"

"How did he accomplish that?" Snape asked.

"He, well, he said that maybe what bothered her was the eyes." Percy had trouble collecting his words for a moment, remembering Penny. With three pairs of cunning eyes watching, it took him a moment to regain his footing. "I think he was recalling the fear Penny told me a few hours earlier. Of the - her accident. And then, after she'd left, he got that distanced look again and said that Mudbloods deserved to... erm, die." His voice couldn't do the words justice. Tom was the only to look surprised; Snape and Dumbledore wore stone masks. Upset again, Percy stalled. How much detail should he give? Dumbledore was no help; he was still calmly regarding Tom. Percy felt a surge of anger. Was he supposed to just say anything and everything?

Well, was he?

Surely not. Right?

At times, Dumbledore's methods were too much for Percy. Yes, the Headmaster looked quite calm and in control, but... well... he didn't make sense.

Calm down, Percy told himself, breathing deeply. He respected Dumbledore - as a Headmaster he'd given Percy much support. His voice more certain than he felt, Percy finished with, "And then, just after Hermione left, he seemed in pain and keeled over."

Tom's eyes flicked downward from facing Dumbledore and then Percy, a smile on his face. Before Snape's mouth expelled words, Dumbledore rose and said, "Thank you, Percy. I have gotten enough. Tom, you will remain here. Severus, please come with me." And with that, the Headmaster rose and left the infirmary, the potions master trailing behind him, watched by Percy and his charge.

Percy sighed. "Well. That seemed..."

"Pointless?"

"Uninformative for us."

"And that's not synonymous with what I said?"

"It's a tactful way to say it."

"Which is, in this case, akin to a frightened way. Perhaps not even consciously anymore, it's become such a part of you."

"I have no problem with ceasing censoring myself on certain things. Or some persons."

That smile. "Such as?"

You. "... Lucius Malfoy."

"Do tell."

"Well, for once thing, he's a pretentious arse of the highest degree. Two, if he had an independent thought aside from whatever elitist bigotry his family instilled in him his head might implode, which would cause serious bodily damage since it's already and always firmly shoved up his bum." Heat was rising from his chest, flushing his face and feeling good.

Tom was rising, tugging gently at his sleeve to pull him out of the infirmary, voice the same low tone, smoothly rolling with amusement. "And Professor Snape? I saw the look you wanted to give him."
"He's not nearly efficient enough to warrant his atrocious classroom behavior. It's me and not the cauldron's shoddy craftsmanship, indeed."

"And your esteemed Headmaster?"

"The man gave a litany of sock classifications my first year - wait, where are you taking me?"

"A birth canal of sorts. Do put that look away, I didn't mean in the literal sense." Sidestepping a group of students Tom paused, eyes focusing on something internal as he glanced about before hurrying down an unused corridor, stopping only at the dribbles of water forming under the door to a girls' lavatory.

"... You know, the school can equip you with a counselor." Tom wasn't paying him any mind, eyes still intensely focused on something Percy was certain he didn't want to see, but was frustrated he couldn't nonetheless. "Tom?"

"Quiet." The abrupt authoritativeness of that single word seemed to surprise them both, and he added, "I'm trying to think."

"Don't bother to let me know how you're getting on with that, really."

Whether he was angry at whatever he was musing on or Percy's commentary, Percy wasn't sure. In either case, Tom didn't respond, just narrowing his eyes and entering the lavatory before Percy could stop him. Sighing, Percy looked down the hall to see no one about, then stood in the doorway. "Get out. This is against the rules, and worse, it's just weird. Come on."

"It happened here." The tone... if there was one thing that truly spoke to Percy about Tom it was his voice. It was generally as controlled as his face, masked and carefully constructed, but there were often layers peeking through. As if his face was a thin though stony shield, truly just as deep as his skin. But his voice reverberated depths, volcanic earthy levels cooled at the top, coming out of a face that was just a young exterior of such a natural phenomenon.

"What happened?" Percy slides slowly in, one foot at a time, one hand still clasping the doorknob as if it were a lifeline.

The slick ground dampens the baggy hems of Tom's pants as he leans against the sink, responding to Percy while looking at his reflection in the mirror. He resembled the surroundings. There were odd cracks and discoloring surrounding the fixtures, as if something rebelled against being repaired. "I was here when someone whose aim as unfortunate as his aptitude Obliviated me."

Curious and nauseated, Percy stepped closer, abandoning the knob, his leaving fingers brushing the door closed. Tom continued on, pacing a bit, hands held out to frame the snapshot pictured in his mind. "I was here, the boy with a scar there... the girl -"

"Ginny."

"Ginny. Quite. Ginny was here, with your brother, and my overzealous Obliviator was hereabouts."
"Was not." The voice was too whiny to be Tom's, and definitely not his own. Both he and Tom turned to a back stall, surprise plain across their faces as the ghost of a young girl half-poked out a door, glaring at them. "If you're going to disturb me you could at least get things right. It's not like you met me already, to need to block out the horrid details."

Tom recovered first. "Who are you?"

A plaintive glare through glasses met him. "Do you want my name just to laugh at me?"

"I can't recall ever requiring a name to laugh at someone before. I can't recall laughing at someone, period. So it'd be reasonable, given that truth, to assume it's not in my nature, isn't it?"

The girl's brow furrowed beneath her bangs, her shimmering arms unfolding from being crossed against her chest. "I don't know. Do I know you?" Her eyes suddenly grew large - owled - behind the spectacles, her voice a breathy pout. "Tom. Are - are you a ghost, then?"

The calmly polite exterior of Tom's melted for a second, a hunger in his eyes taking hold before retreating behind the rocks again. "You know me."

"You were here that night." The girl came closer, floating her body in a crumpled form on the floor. "When the girl died... don't know why they end up here. I thought maybe she'd stay but she was already gone before I could ask. I was hiding, I couldn't see much, just that it was that nasty girl, but I thought she might be better when she was dead. I couldn't see her, though. Not really her. Just her body -"

"You know me. Yes? Tell me, who are you?" His voice was thinly clothing a sharp point, drawing Percy to his side though all his reason told him Tom was fairly harmless in this state.

Her chin trembled. "You don't remember me? But you... you spoke with me. You took me to the dance, the night I -" Her choked sobs and his and Tom's astonishment drowned out her last words. All their voices blurred together in bewilderment.

"I did?"

"You did?"

"He did."

"She surely is mistaken. I mean, I'm clearly not... good enough... for her."

"She said you did. But, perhaps she is lying."

"I do not lie!"

"There must be an explanation."

"Which is?"

"I. Can't. Bloody. Remember."

"You don't remember taking me?"

"You saw me get Obliviated!"

"I thought you'd remember that... nobody ever remembers Moaning Myrtle. But I thought better of you, Tom Riddle, even though you were a Slytherin. I thought better!" With a final wail, she dived down into the toilet, water exploding over both of them.

"... so you took -"

"Shut. Up."

Percy wrung the end of his shirt out. "No need to snap, I'm sure she has a very sweet personality somewhere. In fact, ormph -" Tom's hand clamped around his mouth, silencing him. Surprised at the contact Percy didn't struggle, remaining quiet long enough to hear a scurry behind them. Turning, they saw the door slightly askew. Both racing towards it, they peered out, seeing no one.

Feeling as if both their privacies had been invaded, Percy turned, mirroring Tom's grim image. "We have a name."

"Library."

~*~

Riddle. Tom Riddle. The diary - Ginny's diary, apparently... oh, I'm going to KILL them!

After her illuminating yet odd meeting with Tom and Percy, Hermione had spent the rest of the day searching down Harry and Ron. Rationally, if they weren't in the commons, they'd be on the Quidditch pitch, or at the Great Hall. When neither turned up, she inquired of a sickly-looking Fred Weasley of their whereabouts -

"I don't know."

And of Neville,

"Oh, oh Hermione, I'm so glad you're awake! I don't know about Harry or Ron, but I -"

Sighing, she'd said abruptly, "Thanks, Neville. I'll talk with you later, all right?" Feeling a bit guilty for the quick exit, she'd spun and headed back to Gryffindor even more annoyed. Of course, when she was looking for them, they'd choose to be someplace other than their usual hangouts.

When at the entrance, she paused, taking a deep breath. Her emotions were still rattled. She was desperate to find Harry and Ron, but if she was in a foul mood - or worse, simply emotional and near tears - well, it wasn't something she wanted them to fuss over. They had gone through enough. No, she was resolved to be calm and reasonable. Honestly, it was hours after she'd awoke, and she knew she was fine. Yes.

Once inside, though, tears sprang to her eyes. It was horrible. It was - it felt... horrible.

The common room, with its bright fire and warm coloring, always eased her. Stepping inside her House's private rooms, where Ron and Harry lived and they all studied - well, she studied and they mostly faked it - and where Percy gave his Prefect talk and Fred and George played tricks and made everyone smile even during exams and Angelina and Katie smiled at her when they all rose earliest out of any in Gryffindor and Ginny had just begun to carve out a niche but now never would and she herself had nearly never seen it again -

Her mind rambled on.

She felt... violated. Something had been taken she hadn't ever wanted to give up. Hogwarts just was different now that death had championed its way into Gryffindor. It was colder, more suspicious than intriguing. Staring about, she realized that she was bereft of the pure joy of her home.

Tom Riddle is fortunate to forget, if his past makes him feel anything like I do now, she thought with a sudden irrationality and bitterness she couldn't explain away. Simply she stood there, feeling anything but. Tears didn't fall; she felt them sit in her eyes as a sound mercifully broke through her thoughts.

"Hermione?"

She turned and the sound and fiercely hugged the speaker of her name. Ron gave a muffled sound of surprise, stiffening in her embrace. For a moment she didn't care. Then, embarrassment and guilt rose inside of her, and she quickly pushed herself upright. Oh, she was so stupid and selfish -

"Hermione, are you all right?" Ron's voice was careful, but clearly concerned. How could she have been irritated with him just minutes ago? "You look like death..."

Oh, right. That's how. He was the most insensitive, horrible pr- who was then staring back with an added layer of guilt.

"Oh, no, Ron, it's okay. I know what you meant. I mean, after a second I knew you didn't mean..." She felt inept for her mistake. His face had collapsed at his own insensitive remark. She had a good idea it wasn't just her that was on his mind. Guilt again filled her. The ceaseless wavering of emotions was dizzying, but she tried to ignore it and focus on what help. "Where's Harry?"

"He's coming. Dumbledore wanted to see him later, but he's coming back here first. We were looking into, you know. The Chamber." Ron's voice didn't break, though he gave very obvious focus on the word Chamber.

Hermione felt a bit awkward. Part of her wanted to pry every ounce of information Ron had on the whole event out of him. She thirsted for the explanation that would balance the months she'd lain frozen, and the loss of Ginny. True, she hadn't known Ginny well, but having herself deprived of the chance - and more, knowing she was her best friend's sister - was a reality that demanded a justification. And maybe learning of it all would show a way to ease Ron's pain and Harry's guilt.

But Ron looked exhausted. Not knowing what else to do she said, "You should go to sleep."

"I don't want to." The voice was sure, as if reveling in a certainty of something.

She was tired, too. Couldn't he see she was trying to help? She wouldn't give in to his baiting. She wouldn't. Well... not really. "I didn't say you wanted to, I said you should. Which you -"

"Should. I know. Contrary to what Snape says, I don't need to be told things a million times. And you should be in bed, too." Emotion was quickly rising to his eyes.

The outlet of the quibble overrode her hesitation on his slight decency of saying she should be in bed, too. "I didn't tell you a million. Don't exaggerate."

"Don't tell me what to do!"

"I didn't!"

"Oh? Don't exaggerate sounds pretty bloody -"

"Shut it." That voice caused both of their heads to turn.

Harry had just entered, carrying with him a somber quietness that chilled the heated exchange between her and Ron. Staring at him, Hermione couldn't help but compare him to the Gryffindor commons - to Hogwarts itself, really - and how it now looked. How they all looked.

"Where have you both been?" She stepped back to let Harry by, but none of them went far inside, remaining huddled near the exit.

Ron answered. "Library. Yes, we do know the way. D'you know, once again, it wasn't nearly as informative as the girls lavatory. I'm not sure which is more disturbing, that fact, or who we saw in there."
Ignoring the library jab, she asked, "What happened, then? Who did you see?"

"The library was a bust as Ron said, so we thought we might as well go to a direct source. And since Percy's not exactly giving with any information, we followed him and Tom." Harry leaned in more with a quiet intensity. "Moaning Myrtle knew him."

Hermione tried to sort it out in her mind. "Why would they go... he's retracing his steps. That's where he last was with his memory."

"He's probably better off without his memory. Myrtle said that he took her to a dance. A dance. With Myrtle." Ron shivered at the thought, Harry not denying the same sentiment at the thought. She couldn't, really, either.

Instead she said, "So Tom and Myrtle must've gone to school together. Well, that's obvious. Tom thought Hagrid opened the Chamber, Myrtle was killed by what was in the Chamber, they all must've gone to school together."

"Hagrid's been cleared though nobody else has been publicly caught for it. Tom was in the Chamber, and now we know he was close with both Myrtle and Ginny, the only two who didn't make it." Harry's voice was grim while speaking. "One of us should probably speak with Hagrid. Ron? See what he knows. And Myrtle..."

Ron nodded. "Harry, she seems to respond best to you." A wincing nod was the reply, and they both then turned to Hermione.

"I can go find whatever you both missed at the library."

~*~

Upon entering his mansion, Lucius wasted no time in discarding his cloak, throwing it upon his servant and sending the creature off with the simple word, "leave." His House Elf tremblingly nodded at the command, and then fled as fast as he could with the discarded cloak. Without even watching, Lucius added, "And it had better not drag on the floor." Minor shuffling and a faint whimper were heard as the elf no doubt redoubled its efforts to obey his command. Lucius truly cared little. His threat was nothing more than procrastination. But, it couldn't last forever - he had to get on with his duties.

Duty. Such a fascinating word. It vibrated in the mouth.

He entered his study. The room seemed innocent enough when others saw it. It wasn't guarded with crossbones, hidden in walls or possessing a trap entrance. No, any could enter, though his family and servants knew well enough he didn't appreciate it. Why he disapproved it, they hadn't a clue. Narcissa claimed it to be a male trait, to have a space all his own, and Lucius suspected many agreed. The room was elegant and formal with ebony bookcases and a stone fireplace, simple leather couches and scenic paintings. It was rather...'dull, father' as Draco said. Unhidden and plain, and therefore not seeming nearly so excitingly secretive.

Simple psychology. He would not needlessly, egotistically challenge others to catch him. Unlike some.
Alone in his study, Lucius uncloaked his more questionable objects, bringing forth only the ones he needed right then. The rest remained hidden in the illusion of the mundane.

Placing a small box upon the table, Lucius slides the engraved pin across the top, unlocking the glossy ebony casing. Taking out his wand, he mutters a spell, causing a shimmering, gooey blue shield to appear in the fireplace. Taking out the red triangle from the box, inhaling its champagne scent, he tosses it into the center of the web. Suddenly the air about him felt damp and heavy, his ears popping and moisture forming on his brow as the muffler took hold. Experimental magic - replete with side effects, but without restrictions.

Waiting, he watched the image of the Dark Lord form in his mirror behind the web. Through it the voice swam in and out, the shimmer adding to the effect that one of them was bobbing up and under the water desperately, though both their countenances belied such desperation.

"My lord. Nothing could be salvaged from the diary. Dumbledore must have broken its magic."
"One would suppose with your composed speaking you'd eventually say something of merit. Or at least accuracy."

Stiffly, "I speak the truth. It's -"

"Blocked. Not broken. I can feel it. I can feel him." Voldemort's eyes close, his expression appearing far more distasteful than pleased. "I've drawn what strength I could from him. He's of no use to me there. Not under Dumbledore's protection."

"What do you wish be done?" Lucius' breath caught on in his throat awaiting the response.

"I've sent out my request already. I expect a response as soon as a bee stops buzzing to him." The slitted lines that shadow for lips turned up.