Old Parchment and Green Ink

Old Parchment & Green Ink

by lelalee83

Chapter Five: It Must Be the Heat

"Mafalda!" said a voice behind Ron, one that Harry immediately recognised. "I've been looking all over for you." Tom Riddle stood in the middle of the corridor, wand in hand.

Mafalda turned, a mock smile on her face again. "Tom," she said. Her voice was as artificially sweet as her smile. "You've been looking for me?"

"I want you to join me in my compartment," said Tom. He looked at Ron, Luna, Hermione, and Harry. "You may all come as well. In fact, I insist." He turned and disappeared into an adjacent doorway.

Ron received a sharp poke in the back. Mafalda was urging him to follow.

Realising they were not being given a choice, Harry caught Ron's questioning glance and nodded. He knew they couldn't get off the train. They had to get to London. Therefore, they were going to have to share a compartment with Tom Riddle.

"Harry," Hermione whispered without turning around, and he gently grasped her elbow as they followed behind Luna into the compartment.

Tom was sitting by the window, and they all took their seats just as the train began to move. Ron sat next to Tom, with Mafalda on his right. Luna, Hermione, and Harry sat across from them.

Tom cleared his throat and looked around. No one made a sound. He smiled and leaned back in his seat, appearing completely relaxed. "I'm Tom Riddle," he said. "And you are..."

Sitting up straighter in her seat, "My name is Calypso Callugula," said Luna, even though Tom had been looking at Harry. She stuck out her hand, and Tom shook it.

"I'm Jane Harper," said Hermione, a tight smile on her pale face. Tom glanced at her and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. His eyes moved to Harry again.

For a moment, Harry said nothing; he simply looked at Tom, his face an expressionless mask. And then, "James Evans," he finally replied. He offered no handshake.

Tom gave him a slight nod.

Mafalda nudged Ron in the ribs with her elbow. "Roonil," he burst out. "Roonil Wazlib."

"Well, now that introductions are out of the way," said Tom, "tell me where you all are from, and why you are here."

"As we told Mafalda," said Luna pleasantly, "we're prospective students, and are looking for a school in which to continue our magical learning." Her voice softened. "We're all orphans, you see. Our guardian, Mrs. Lee, home schooled us because she couldn't bear to part with us. She's dead now." Luna bowed her head. "She died in a tragic knitting accident. Poor Mrs. Lee. She never was good with a needle."

"And now here we are," said Hermione, squeezing Luna's hand in a show of support.

"I see," said Tom. "I'm sorry for your loss." He sounded as though he really was sorry, but Harry knew better. "You know," he continued, "I saw a girl yesterday evening that looked very much like you, Roonil."

Ron looked, wide-eyed, at Harry, and then turned his nervous gaze to his hands clasped tightly in his lap. "I-I don't have a sister," he said shakily. "I'm an only child."

"Hmm," said Tom, staring intently at Ron. "Odd. It was an uncanny resemblance."

Harry realised, with a sinking feeling, that Tom didn't believe they were who they said they were.

"Once," said Luna, "I saw a one thousand year old painting that looked exactly like me." Everyone waited for her to say something more, but she turned and gazed out the window instead.

The rest of the train ride passed excruciatingly slowly, and despite Harry's worry no mistakes were made on their part. Nevertheless, he was very happy when the train pulled into King's Cross station.

"I'm glad that's over," said Ron, letting out a generous whoosh of air. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand on end. "When he said his name was Tom Riddle I thought we were done for."

"I was so nervous," said Hermione breathlessly as they exited the station. "You know, I think he could tell I was a Muggleborn."

Luna turned to Harry. "Are you going to tell me who he is now, and why you're all so afraid of him?"

"I'm not afraid of him," said Harry, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes.

"Of course you're not, Harry," answered Hermione quickly.

"Well, I am," said Ron. "And I don't care who knows it."

Luna looked from one to the other as they came to a stop on a crowded street corner. "Yes, but who is he?"

"Now is not the time to talk about it," said Hermione, glancing pointedly around. "We don't want anyone to overhear. They're all already looking at us because of our robes."

"What are we going to do?" asked Ron.

Hermione led them all across the street. "We'll have to buy some new clothes," she replied. "I thought of that, and I brought some Muggle money." She caught site of the twin expressions of uneasiness on Harry's and Ron's faces. "Don't worry," she smiled. "I'll help you two pick out something sensible."

"We're going to look awful," said Ron.

*****

"Would you two come out of there already?" shouted Hermione through the dressing room door.

"Just a minute!" Ron shouted back. A few seconds later he exited the dressing room, sighing loudly.

"Harry!" came Hermione's voice again.

Harry sighed, feeling very uncomfortable in the white, collared button-up he wore. His reflection sighed back. "Well, I suppose I'll have to go out there sooner or later," he said to it. He pushed back the curtain and walked towards the door, his black shoes clicking softly on the tiled floor. He was just about to open the door when it flew open. Ron stood on the other side.

"Better get a move on and let Hermione see you," he said with a roll of his eyes. "She was just about to come in and drag you out." He pointed to his right, where Harry could see Hermione and Luna waiting. "Here he comes," he shouted.

Hermione finished what she was saying to Luna, and then turned around. Her expression of exasperation, either with Luna, Ron, Harry, or all of them, disappeared.

Harry tugged at his collar. "Is it that bad?" he said as he approached, mistaking her momentary silence for dislike.

"No," Hermione promptly replied. "No. You don't look bad at all." He fiddled with his unbuttoned cuffs. "Here, let me roll those up for you," she said. Her warm fingers lightly skimmed his arm as she did so. "Better?" Harry nodded, suddenly liking his new clothes much more than before.

"Come on, Hermione," said Luna, appearing on Harry's right. "Let's go find something for ourselves."

Hermione handed Harry a small wad of Muggle money, and then stepped away from him. She turned to Ron. "You and Harry pick out one more shirt and pair of trousers each. We'll meet you outside."

"Okay," Ron replied. "But hurry up!"

She and Luna disappeared among the numerous racks of ladies' clothes.

*****

The rattling buzz of automobiles, dust, and people impatient to get home filled the street. Ron kept glaring at people exiting the store, as though it was their fault the two girls hadn't come out yet.

"You won't make them hurry by doing that, you know," said Harry, feeling annoyed. The mugginess of the afternoon was beginning to get to him; sweat trickled down his nose, and his shirt was beginning to stick to his skin. There was also the fact that he was hungry.

"They're wasting time!" Ron shouted angrily, earning a few alarmed glances from passersby. He plopped down on a nearby bench. "If they don't come out in the next two m-"

"Here they come," interrupted Harry. He had heard Hermione's voice issuing from a throng of people exiting the store. A few seconds later they came into view.

"Wow," said Ron. "They look so...different."

Harry nodded in silent agreement, although his eyes were only on one of the approaching girls.

"Well? How do I look?" Hermione smoothed out the skirt of her blue, pin-striped dress. It flared slightly and fell to just below her knees. A navy blue velvet belt narrowed out her waistline. "I'll take that," she said, addressing Ron's goggle-eyed expression, "as a compliment." She adjusted her sunhat with a white-gloved hand, smiling all the while.

"Look at my new earrings," exclaimed Luna, pointing to the large, black-enamelled roses in her ears. She wore a black, short-sleeved blouse, and a red skirt with black trim along the bottom. Her blond hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, which was secured with a black silk ribbon. She gave a little twirl, holding one arm aloft like a ballerina.

"Wow," Ron said again, and Hermione gripped his hand in both her gloved ones, smiling up at him.

Harry suddenly began to feel annoyed again, and told himself it was just the heat. He cleared his throat and everyone turned to look at him. "We should get going," he said.

Hermione dropped Ron's hand. "This way." And they all followed her down the street.

*****

Hermione led the way to the Leaky Cauldron. Night had fallen by the time they all crowded through the front door and up to the counter. Tom the barkeeper, who in their own time was old and toothless, greeted them with a perfect smile and youthful face. Hermione paid for two rooms, and then gave one key to Ron.

"We can't go to bed yet!" he exclaimed. "We have to go look for Ginny in Diagon Alley."

Hermione sighed. "Ron, Professor Dumbledore said he didn't see Malfoy and your sister until the fifth of July. Today is the first."

"Well, what are we going to do until then?" he asked, his voice rising with each word.

"I don't know about the rest of you," replied Hermione, glancing around, "but I'm going to get something to eat, and then I'm going to bed."

"I couldn't agree with you more," said Harry.

"Yes, let's eat. I'm starving," said Luna.

Ron sighed and reluctantly followed the others.

*****

Morning, July 2^nd

Warm, golden sunlight slanted in through a thin gap in the curtains, falling across the sleeping form of Ginny Weasley. She was dreaming about being lost in a forest, cold rain soaking her hair and clothes. There seemed to be no colour anywhere; everything appeared gray.

A sudden flash of green, shimmering like fresh ink, caught her eye. It was a ways ahead of her, and as bright as an emerald.

The sudden smell of roses suffused the air as she began to run towards it; bunches of the potent flowers appeared on either side, crowding among the brush. They were beautiful shades of crimson, coral, and lavender. The trees and other plants around them appeared dull and lifeless in comparison.

Up ahead was the bright green something, and now that she was closer she could see that it was a figure wearing a cloak. Ginny stopped several feet behind, her breathing loud and harsh in her ears. The person did not turn around. She slowly approached, raising her hand in preparation to pull back the brightly coloured hood. Closer...almost there...anticipation reached a sickening point in her stomach.

Her fingers grasped the soft green cloth. She yanked it back.

A loud bang brought her into the waking world.

"Be careful, you clumsy imbecile! That was my great grandfather's!"

"Forgive me, sir."

Ginny slipped silently out of bed as the voices faded away. She quickly dressed in the same clothes she'd worn for the past two days, slid her feet into her shoes, and crept towards the door. What was going on? Malfoy had said no one used this place.

She pressed her ear against the carved, wood paneling. There was no sound except for the monotonous ticking of the clock directly across the hall. She opened the door a crack and peeked out. There was no one there.

Opening the door a bit wider, Ginny moved quietly out into the corridor and tiptoed in the direction she thought the voices had gone. There were no candles, nothing lighting her way. It was a little difficult to see, but she kept her eyes wide and her ears open. Silence pressed down on her like a heavy blanket.

A corner. Ginny stopped and prepared herself to peek around it. She leaned forward slowly.

Cold hands pressed themselves over her mouth from behind, stifling her scream of surprise, and roughly pulled her back.

"What are you doing?" a voice hissed in her ear. It was a familiar voice.

Ginny elbowed her captor in the stomach, and he let go with a soft cry of pain. "Get your icy hands off me, Malfoy!" She turned around and fixed the hunched over form with a glare.

"What did...you...do that...for?" Draco wheezed.

"What are you doing sneaking up on me in dark corridors?" she countered.

Draco stood up straight again, both hands still clasped over his midsection. "I came to tell you we have to get out of here. My grandfather is here."

"There's someone else," said Ginny, glancing over her shoulder. "Someone else is with your grandfather. It sounded like a young boy."

"I know," Draco replied.

Frowning, "Well, do you know who it is?" said Ginny. Draco did not answer her, but merely turned and began to walk briskly away down the shadowy corridor. "Malfoy, wait!" She half-whispered, hurrying after him. "Who is the other person?"

Draco stopped, and she almost ran into him again. Without turning around, "The other person is my father," he said.

*****

Having brought nothing with them except the clothes they wore, Draco and Ginny left the cottage as quickly as possible through the back way.

"Where are we..." began Ginny, but a familiar scent floated lightly on the breeze, and she trailed off in mid-sentence. Fleeting images tickled her brain: brightly coloured flowers, rain, and an emerald green something. A moment later the source of the scent crept over everything in her view. "The rose garden?" she asked. She remembered Malfoy showing it to her briefly the day before.

"It would seem so," said Draco. "This way."

Ginny stared at a bunch of lavender roses, their leaves and stems a glossy green. They bobbed gently, as though laughing at a private joke shared between them and the wind. She could almost see an image from last night's dream as she stared at them, their scent washing over her. She nearly had it...

"Weasley!"

Looking up, Ginny realised she had let Malfoy get so far ahead of her she couldn't see him anymore. "I'm coming, I'm coming," she said under her breath, and began to jog in the direction of his voice. A few seconds later he came into view. Judging by the expression on his face, she decided it was best to say nothing.

Draco sighed. It may have been an exasperated one, or it may have been a relieved one. Ginny thought it was probably a bit of both.

*****

A long, winding road of dirt stretched ahead, and Ginny, now covered from head to toe in a grimy layer of orange dust, could hold her tongue no longer. "Where are we going, Malfoy?" she said thickly. Her words seemed to stick in her dry mouth, and she tried not to think about how thirsty and hungry she was.

"I don't know," said Draco, trudging on ahead of her. He sounded as exhausted as she felt.

A long sigh escaped her parched lips. "That's nice to know." Ginny raised one filthy hand and pushed her sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes. She vaguely wondered if she hadn't streaked orange dirt across her forehead, but decided she didn't really care. Her clothes, dusty, sweaty, and smelly from a few days wear, far outweighed a smudge of grime on her face. Glancing up at Malfoy's back, she saw on his no-longer-white-shirt the faded purple stains she had made the day before; it was also sticking to his back, saturated with perspiration.

Suddenly, carrying on the stifling air, Ginny could hear a low rumbling noise. She stopped and listened for a moment. It was growing louder. "Malfoy," she said, shielding her eyes with one hand and staring off into the distance behind them. "I think I hear...it is! Look!"

Draco turned and stared as a rickety old wagon, loaded down with what looked to be junk, approached the two of them.

"Stop! Please, sir!" shouted Ginny, waving her arms above her head.

"Whoa," said the old driver, pulling on the reins. The wagon rolled to a stop.

Ginny stepped forward. "Please, sir. Could you give us a ride, just to the nearest town?" She hoped that she and Malfoy's appearance didn't lead to man to refuse.

The man, old and white-bearded, looked at them for a few seconds. "Get on in the back," he said, with a shake of his head. "I don' usually do this, but for you two I'll make an exception." He then added, "Both of you look so down on your luck, 'specially you, boy."

Draco ignored the man, and he and Ginny both climbed into the back of the wagon. "What is all this junk?" said Draco as soon as they started down the road.

"I suppose they're his belongings," replied Ginny. "Or maybe he sells these things to people." She examined a tarnished silver candelabra, it's surface almost black with age, and a wooden chair half-eaten by termites. "Or maybe not."

"What is the nearest town?"

"I don't know. Let me ask him." Ginny turned around. "Sir!" she shouted. "Excuse me, sir!"

"Eh?"

"Could you tell me, what's the nearest town?"

The old man paused for a minute, as though trying to remember. "Righ'. Almost forgot where we was goin'!" he said, laughing a little. "The next town is Harwich."

"Harwich?" repeated Draco. "That's only a few hours from London." He lowered his voice and leaned in closer, just in case the old man had exceptional hearing. "We can go to Diagon Alley."

Ginny nodded, while wondering how, even when someone was smelly and covered in dirt and sweat, he could still manage to look mildly attractive. She shook her head, as though trying to empty such thoughts out through her ears. The heat must really be getting to me.