Objects of Desire

Prologue

At the time, she was as nervous as all the others surrounding her, too distracted by this anxiety to give much care to anything else. Years later, however, she was able to look upon this memory more attentively, to almost savor the mind-numbing familiarity it attained as time went on. It was, after all, one of the few memories she had of him that remained untouched.

There had been no doubt, of course, that Dorcas Elinor Rookwood would attend Hogwarts. Her entire family were witches and wizards, save for one Muggle great-grandmother on her father's side, who had at any rate been most successfully hushed up. Her older brother Augustus was a Hogwarts student already, in Slytherin. However, like the other first-years who'd been lined up by a beaming, auburn-haired professor, she was naturally worked up over the question of which house she would belong to. Dorcas took some comfort in the fact that nearly all the other children looked worried too; so it wasn't just her insides that had tangled themselves into a churning knot. She watched as the others whispered, nudged each other, and glanced back and forth between the long tables, crowded with older students in varying degrees of attentiveness, and the stool where each first-year in turn settled the battered old Sorting Hat upon his or her head. She twirled a strand of brown hair around her index finger again and again, repeating those words silently in her head. Everyone is nervous. Nothing to be ashamed of.

"Meadows, Geoffrey!"

Dorcas watched as the straw-haired boy lifted the Hat to his head. It seemed to take some time for it to make up its mind, and she rocked back and forth on her heels. It won't take that long for me... it'll be over quickly... Without thinking, she rocked so hard she jostled the boy in front of her. He turned, his dark eyes fixing on her face.

"Please do not touch me."

Dorcas stepped back almost without thinking, the apology she had meant to say fading away as she looked at this boy. He was dressed shabbily, but he stood quite straight and tall and somehow looked rather intimidating. The look he gave her helped with this: it was so full of menace that she instinctively, if awkwardly, grasped at the new wand she had received a week ago. He held her gaze a moment longer, then turned back as though satisfied. Dorcas barely heard the Sorting Hat cry out "RAVENCLAW!" at last; she was watching this boy's back uneasily, though he seemed to have forgotten her presence as soon as he turned away.

There weren't many students left before her now, and they were going fairly rapidly. As Randall, Ruth pulled the Hat off her head and proceeded, grinning, toward the Hufflepuff table, it was now the menacing boy's turn. There was still some subdued chatter among the other students as his name was called ("Riddle, Tom!"), and Dorcas noticed that many of the professors seemed bored, eager for it all to be done with already. Few people were paying much attention to the Sorting anymore; perhaps it got boring year after year. The exception to this was the auburn-haired professor - Dumbledore - who had lined them up earlier. He was watching this boy in a way that seemed casual, yet Dorcas sensed an intent curiosity coming from him that hadn't been there when the other students were being Sorted. She watched with him as Tom reached out to pick up the Sorting Hat, his fingers brushing across the worn fabric.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The buzz of chatter ceased, replaced by a few gasps. Tom Riddle hadn't even put the Hat on, but it was able to Sort him anyway? A heavyset professor at the head table looked up in surprise, then shrugged good-naturedly and said something, laughing, to the woman sitting next to him. Tom himself seemed startled by the quick reaction, but his expression soon changed to one of calm satisfaction as he headed toward the table decorated in green and silver. Dorcas glanced quickly over at Professor Dumbledore, but his face was inscrutable now. (She felt a little surge of pleasure at being able to use "inscrutable" here, a word she had learned quite recently.)

"Rookwood, Dorcas!"

It was her turn now. As she approached the stool, a quick glance at the Slytherin table showed that both her brother and Tom Riddle were watching her. She gulped and reached for the Hat shakily. It remained silent until she had settled it snugly onto her head, at which point she heard a soft voice speak as though it came from her own mind.

No worries, my dear. You're quite an easy one. You've a good loyal streak, and you're brave in a pinch, though it's quite clear you're hopeless at subtlety and cunning. But mostly, you're clever, and you're curious, and almost morbidly thoughtful. Quite observant, too, I see. So I don't think it should be any real surprise that I'm going to say "RAVENCLAW!"

The polite smattering of applause rang in her ears as she took the hat off and headed toward her house's table. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a disappointed expression on her brother's face, but he smirked at her and turned to one of his friends when she looked his way. Tom Riddle, though, was still looking at her, and the intensity of his gaze unnerved her even as she seated herself facing away from him. She didn't think she had ever seen someone her age with such a calm, chilling expression.

Chapter One

He had to call her name three times before she even heard him.

"Dorcas Rookwood, if it's not too much of a bother, could you look away from that book and rejoin the human race?"

She glanced up, startled, to see Geoffrey Meadows smirking down at her. A little ways behind him, she could see his usual group of friends trying to flirt with the young librarian who'd just started this year, Irma Pince. Pretty as she was, she'd already developed a reputation for severity and occasional shrieks if she feared for the safety of a particular book.

"That's a relief. I was worried you'd been caught by a Sucker," Geoffrey said, sitting down next to her and leaning over to peer at the text. Dorcas sighed, though not very irritably, and brushed her hair over her shoulder.

"For your information, Geoffrey, there is no such thing as a Sucker. Nobody's ever proven that a book can transport its reader to some imaginary 'alternate universe'-"

"-Because nobody's ever come back after it happened to them!" Geoffrey insisted, his eyes wide. "Scorn all you like, Rookwood; I know about these things." She rolled her eyes, struggling to hide a smile at his earnestness, and he took it as encouragement to continue. "You need to take a rest from this love affair you have with cold hard facts, my dear girl, and consider that there might be more to life than impossibly obscure knowledge."

She found herself giggling at him. "Leaving aside how very un-Ravenclaw that sounded, and the cold hard fact that I am not your dear girl, what's so wrong with only believing in what's provable, solid?"

Geoffrey shrugged carelessly, as though the answer were so obvious he couldn't quite find a way to put it. "I don't know. Puts you in league with Binns, for one thing, and he's such a bore only you have the patience to pay attention in History. I'd suspect you of trying to kiss up, were it not for the unfortunate fact that there's nothing solid - ha, ha - left about him to kiss up to."

"Geoffrey! The man died last year - show some respect!"

"So? Doesn't seem to have bothered him all too much!" Dorcas laughed again at this last remark of his, and almost immediately regretted it: nearby students were looking up, bemused by the very idea of serious Dorcas Rookwood having a fit of the giggles. One boy in particular gave her a long, amused look before turning back to the intent conversation he was having with the cluster of students surrounding him.

"Nothing like Tom Riddle to get a girl all flustered, huh?" Geoffrey said, frowning a little. When Dorcas didn't respond, he groaned. "Good lord, girl, don't tell me you're actually fond of him and his Knights."

"His what?"

"Oh, the Knights of Walpurgis, that's what his gang are calling themselves these days. Supposed to sound intimidating or something, but I have to say it loses its effect when every girl in school has the words scrawled on her textbooks in little hearts. So you're one of the besotted too, then?" Geoffrey asked in a voice that clearly indicated his displeasure. Dorcas turned to look at him, startled, and he in turn blinked at her surprise. "What?"

"You're bothered by that idea," she said, confused. If Geoffrey flushed at this, it was only very slightly; Dorcas couldn't be sure.

"Bothered that one of the most brilliant witches in sixth year seems to be mad for a bloke who, while just as brilliant, is a bit lacking when it comes to common decency? You might say that." With an effort, he resumed his usual grin. "He's sure to sweep you off your feet and dash you off to some romantic rendezvous, and then who will I harass at the library? Who, I ask you? You might have a little consideration for me in all this."

"Honestly, Geoffrey, you're being absurd. I couldn't care less about Tom and his crowd. And he never seems to pay attention to girls anyhow - I think a romantic rendezvous would be too mundane for him. At any rate, he doesn't know me all too well." Upon reflection, Dorcas thought this seemed rather over-long when a simple denial would have sufficed, but it wasn't like that meant anything.

"Nobody knows you all too well, Dorcas," Geoffrey said, his expression more serious now. "Those cold hard facts of yours are more interesting than friends, I guess."

"Then why are you after me all the time?" Dorcas asked, stung. She always ended up like this, flustered by his presence as the conversation wound to a close. There was something about him she couldn't understand, and it was frustrating.

Geoffrey looked at her thoughtfully, considering. His friends seemed to have given up on Miss Pince and were hanging around impatiently, glancing over every once in a while. "You're interesting, Rookwood. I like talking to you," he said at last. "And I think you should talk to people more." Before she could think of any response to this, he glanced over at his friends and stood up. "I'd better get going. See you around, Rookwood."

He sauntered back over to his friends, suddenly at his ease again. Dorcas sighed, staring resolutely at her book once more, though she barely noticed the words on the page. Sometimes she wondered if she made him as ill at ease as he made her. She knew she was too quiet, too serious-minded, but she hoped he wasn't bored by trying to talk to her.

"What were you and the Muggle talking about?"

The voice was quiet and even, and right by her ear. Dorcas jumped, turning to see Tom Riddle's handsome face close to hers, studying it closely. "Tom! You frightened me. And Geoffrey has a wizard grandfather, he's not all Muggle."

Tom shrugged, his expression unchanging. "It's close enough. Were you talking about your reading with him?" He looked down at the book before her; in a library filled with worn, ancient books, this one seemed even more antiquated than most.

"Oh, no, he didn't ask me about that," Dorcas said, wondering why Tom was curious. "He just chats with me sometimes. Probably feels bad for the loner," she said, laughing and rolling her eyes the way people did when they were being self-deprecating.

"Probably," Tom said calmly, switching his gaze to her. "So what are you studying then, Rookwood?"

Trying not to show her surprise at his interest (though interest seemed an inappropriate word, as his expression was as detached as ever), Dorcas replied, "Oh, well, it's sort of a pet project of mine. It started with something Professor Binns was talking about in class earlier this year, about how Godric Gryffindor forged his sword for use in the war against the trolls shortly before the founding of Hogwarts?" Tom nodded, and she continued, feeling herself grow more excited. "And how he left it in trust to the school, and that it's the only confirmed relic of his known today, despite what various pawn shops might try to have one believe. Well, there have been reports about other missing relics belonging to the Founders, cropping up over the years, and some look more promising than others. I started using some of my free time to investigate this."

"Why, though?" Tom asked bluntly

Dorcas blinked and backpedaled, trying to regather her thoughts. "Oh... Well, it's interesting, isn't it? I mean, everyone's curious about what the Founders were like - I know I am - and actually verifying the existence of objects used by them - I mean, the sheer historical value alone!..." She trailed off as he smiled somewhat disdainfully. "It just seems fascinating, really," she added, in a voice that did not make it sound fascinating at all.

"I see. Very admirable," Tom said in a more pleasant tone. "And have you gotten far in your research?"

"Well, yes, I've made some progress," Dorcas said. "I've been going through various books that our textbook says make reference to something of each of the Founders'. Starting with Ravenclaw, of course," she added, smiling a little. "I must admit to a bias in favor of my house. Although I have read something of a necklace, or something, that belonged to Slytherin, but it was one of those things that gets passed down through the family line and consequently lost to public knowledge. Shame, really."

"Locket," Tom said automatically, an odd look upon his face. Dorcas wondered why his eyes flickered like that, why he tapped a ring he was wearing smartly against the tabletop.

"I beg your pardon?"

The look was gone, and it was just inscrutable Tom again, shrugging nonchalantly. "I believe I've seen a portrait of Salazar in our common room where he is wearing a locket, but I may be mistaken."

"Oh!" Dorcas gasped, her embarrassment completely forgotten. "Tom, you don't suppose there's any way I could come to your common room to see if it's true? Perhaps - even ask him about it?" After digging through dusty tomes for the past few weeks, a portrait that could answer one directly would be a wonderful stroke of luck!

Tom raised an eyebrow and regarded her as though he were shocked; as always, the force of his gaze was unnerving. "A good girl like you, Rookwood, should know better than that. Only students belonging to a particular house can enter that house's common room. I'm not about to lose points for Slytherin just so you can indulge your Ravenclaw curiosity."

Dorcas blushed. "Of course. I apologize, Tom." She watched as he stood to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow in Arithmancy, then," she said stiffly.

"Of course," Tom said, a slight inflection in his voice indicating amusement. "In the meantime, I hope you enjoy your research." Without saying a single unkind word, he still managed to make her feel thoroughly ashamed to have even brought it up. As he walked away, straight and tall as always, he paused, and turned to look back at her, something like a smile crossing his face when he saw she'd been watching him go. "You're a peculiar girl, Dorcas Rookwood. Terribly intellectual, as well," he said. She smiled immediately at the latter, as she always considered a remark like that to be a compliment, but as she did so he began to speak again. "That being so, it's no small wonder you haven't any friends."

And with that, he was gone.