Worth a Thousand Words

By their third anti-Dementor meeting, Tom and Hermione both suspected that they were doing something wrong. Neither one was accustomed to taking as many as three tries to get a new spell right -- much less three days, even if this one was quite advanced.

On the other hand, neither of them was lacking in either determination or obstinacy, so there were no plans to give up in the near future.

"Your turn again, Tom." Hermione was frowning at one of their books as if hoping that sufficient staring would prompt it to give further instructions. (cont.)

Tom nodded and readied his wand. "Expecto patro--"

Ron put his head into the classroom. "What on Earth are --"

"--Num!" Tom finished on something of a half-yelp, and his wand spat silver mist that dissipated like smoke.

"Oh." Ron blinked. "Why'm I not surprised you two would be at the Patronus Charm? And why," he added, turning severely to Hermione, "did I find out about it by accident?"

"We didn't want you to worry, and you know you would," Hermione said a bit sharply. "And Harry's not to know. He's got quite enough on his plate already this year."

"Not that we're having much success," Tom added, eyeing the end of his wand sourly. "It's supposed to have a definite shape, according to the book, but that bit of mist's the best either of us have been able to do."

"It's also supposed to be really hard," Ron observed, sliding uninvited into a seat. "Nobody studies it in school, and most people don't learn it at all unless they've got reason to expect to deal with Dementors. So, of course, this all makes perfect sense. Oh, and mist's better than nothing."

"Professor Dumbledore didn't get mist," Tom grumbled. "Not that I'm hoping for results like that, but, I dunno, I don't think two seconds of mist is going to impress a Dementor much."

"Probably not," Ron agreed entirely too readily. "And of course the Headmaster didn't get mist, he's Dumbledore. You're... twelve."

"Almost thirteen. And that's only subjectively. According to my birth certificate I'm nearly sixty-seven."

"Subjectively is all that matters for experience," Hermione said absently, "and squabbling over it won't help. Expecto Patronum." Nothing. She scowled at her wand.

"You didn't look like you were concentrating that time," Tom said. He turned to Ron. "Ginny said your dad's been up to Azkaban before -- oh, yeah, and we're not telling her about these experiments either, by the way -- but do you remember anything he's said about it?"

"Why not Ginny?"

"Same reason as not Harry," Tom replied promptly. "Bad reactions, enough to do already, and we'd rather know if we can do it. And it would help if you could tell us anything your father said about Azkaban?"

"All right, all right. ...He wasn't ever very specific. He came back looking...." Ron frowned. "Drawn. And he felt cold when we hugged him even though I think it was a warm day." He flushed slightly. "Ginny and I were pretty young at the time; I suppose that's part of why he didn't tell us much."

Tom frowned thoughtfully. "Well, we knew about the cold already. Has he ever mentioned anything about the Patronus?"

"Vaguely. What it is. I know you're supposed to focus on a happy memory -- but I'd think that's in the books."

"It is. And that might be part of the problem -- does it have to be particularly happy, or just, you know, happy? I'm not exactly spoiled for choice."

"The happier the better, I think. I'd imagine most people would pick the best ones, anyway. Easier to think of."

"I'm about through the easy ones. We've been at this an hour." He slumped into a chair.

"Think I'm starting to feel as tired as you look, Hermione. Anyone for sneaking down to the kitchens for a snack?"

"But --" Hermione began.

There was a startled noise from the doorway; apparently this was their day to be found. "What on Earth?" Seamus Finnegan's voice said; he looked straight at Tom. "You aren't Harry!"

Tom stared at him. "...Well spotted."

Seamus flushed. "Well, when you see a dark-haired boy hanging about with Ron and Hermione, the first thing you don't think is 'Oh, that must be Tom bloody Riddle.' What're you doing in here, anyway?"

"We're working on a surprise for Harry -- for his birthday," Hermione said swiftly. "Don't tell him."

"His birthday's in July, isn't it?"

"I like to plan ahead."

Seamus shook his head, amused. "Only you, Hermione. Right, well -- your choice who you associate with, I suppose. I was just curious. See you two in Charms." He ducked out.

"Well," Ron said after a moment, "we'd better come up with something good for Harry's birthday."

Tom glared halfheartedly after Seamus, then blinked as the glare put his eyes in line with the clock near the door. "Oh, no, is that the time? I'm supposed to meet Ginny for a Magical Creatures tutorial, and I left my bag in my dorm -- I've got to run." With a parting wave, he fit actions to words.

*****

Later that afternoon, at the end of an extensive Care of Magical Creatures tutorial, Tom wiped his hands together, dropped the brush into the nearby bucket, and stepped back, a little warm glow of satisfaction settling in his stomach. Hippogriffs weren't that bad if you were careful and respectful, he decided. Rather like policemen, except more intimidating, really. He supposed that was mostly the talons and wicked beak. He bowed one last time, and the chocolate-colored beast inspected his handiwork on its flanks, nodded solemn acknowledgement, and proceeded regally into the paddock.

"That was good, Tom. You're getting the hang of this, I really think you are. Not nervous this time, were you?" Ginny grinned at him from her perch atop one of the fenceposts.

"No, Miss Weasley," he answered, singsong, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed. "I think I used up all my nerves on Kiffy in detention, and then the Dementors...." Ginny shivered at his mention of the sinister creatures, but Tom was struck by a sudden thought. Kiffy. Dementors. He and Hermione had gotten absolutely nowhere trying to make the Patronus Charm work -- it seemed to require actual danger to be present, and "getting caught by a professor while trying to learn magic too advanced to be part of the Hogwarts curriculum" didn't qualify. (Though being startled by Ron Weasley mid-spell had been enough for one of his best wisps yet.) But Kiffy had known about Dementors; maybe she knew some other way to drive them off, or control them, or... well, whatever it took to keep them away from Harry and Ginny. "D'you suppose Hagrid'll let me visit her, as long as we're here? I've been too busy to come down like I told her I would."

"He probably would if you asked. I can't stay, though; I promised Ron I'd keep an eye on Crookshanks while he and Hermione went down to Hogsmeade this afternoon." She rolled her eyes.

"See you later, then." He and Hermione had agreed to keep their Dementor research a secret from Harry and Ginny anyway, so as not to worry them, so this was just as well.

Hagrid was weeding his vegetable garden when Tom rounded the corner of the cabin, but straightened up almost immediately, mopping his broad forehead with a checkered handkerchief. "Done with yer practice already, are yeh? What d'yeh make of the hippogriffs, then?"

"Yes. And, um... they're very impressive. Ginny says I'm doing better."

"Couldn' hardly do worse. I'll talk t'her about yer progress tomorrow. What did yeh want, then?"

Tom gulped. "Well, I was wondering if I could visit with Kiffy for a bit, while I'm here. I told her I would."

Hagrid grunted. "So yeh did. She's kipped out by the fire, I think. I've got the weedin' ta finish, but yeh can go on in if yeh like."

"Thanks. I won't be long, I just wanted to say hello and... things." Tom turned away and quickly opened the cabin door.

Fang was, luckily, off in a corner sulking; Tom got the distinct impression that Kiffy made the big hound nervous. The sphinx herself was curled in front of a roaring fire, doodling absently with a claw in her sand table. She smiled at him and wiped it clean.

It has been a while since you were here last.

"Well, I've been really busy -- I had a practice session for Care of Magical Creatures today, though, with the hippogriffs."

Proud, they are. You seem uninjured, however; it went well?

"Very well. I groomed a few of them."

I am glad. Would you like to play riddles?

"Actually... um, I had a question. But not a riddle. Do you know about the Dementors at the school?"

I have smelled them. And Hagrid is very upset by their presence.

"Well... so are Harry and Ginny -- everybody, really, but them particularly, and Hermione and I have been trying to figure out a way to protect them, drive the Dementors off or something, and I remembered your riddle about them from last time. Do you know any way of controlling them?"

Kiffy gave him a long, considering look before dipping her claw into the sand again.

Only Dark wizards wish to control Dementors. Are you a Dark Wizard, Tom Riddle?

"No! I mean... no, I'm not."

Then do not pursue that question any further, or you might become one. I have seen Dementors frightened away by a

Kiffy paused, thinking.

A silver thing. Many shapes, but all the same presence. Do you know it?

"The Patronus Charm. I've been trying to learn it, but it's really hard."

That is the only thing I know of that might help you. I am sorry.

"That's all right." Tom sighed. "Thanks anyway."

He left the cabin shaken enough that he very nearly walked into Hagrid without seeing him, and checked himself to turn just in time, manufacturing an apologetic smile that would probably have been unconvincing had Hagrid actually been looking at him properly. That was quite disturbing, really. No one should ever be so distracted as to fail to see Hagrid. Tom hadn't thought it possible.

He reoriented himself -- if he was that oblivious, he could have been on course to walk straight into the lake -- and headed for the castle. Hermione would probably be disappointed about this....

Hermione would probably be highly annoyed and say that even if there weren't any safe spells to control Dementors (which would reflect rather badly on the people in charge of Azkaban, at that), wanting to control them should hardly be considered evil if it was to protect people.

Tom had the uneasy feeling that rationalizing was a bad idea. Possibly this was why he was doing so in Hermione's voice, which probably didn't really help that much even if it was accurate.

A pair of older wizards passed him going the other direction, and a fragment of their conversation caught his ear. "Don't fancy carting anything like that lot again even if You-Know-Who really is gone for good this time."

"Too right," his companion answered. "Least they're safe here."

"I dunno, did you see those kids hanging around watching us bring 'em in? They say some of those Death-Eaters weren't as innocent as they made out, and their kids'd probably love to get a hand on You-Know-Who's stuff."

"Ah, those were Weasleys, you can tell by the hair. Weasleys're all right. C'mon, I'll buy you a butterbeer." And with that, they drifted back out of earshot -- but Tom froze, looking after them.

They hadn't recognized him, obviously. Not very surprising, even if the papers had made something of a fuss; without any such distinctive markings as Harry's scar, a slim dark-haired boy in work robes really did not stand out remarkably at Hogwarts. Fortunately. Tom swallowed and reminded himself to start walking; standing stock-still halfway between the gamekeeper's cottage and the castle would look odd.

He shouldn't be curious. Obviously the items had been Dark, from what the wizards had said. He wouldn't want them. Voldemort wouldn't have kept anything Tom might want.

Would he?

There was a chance he had. Sickening as it was to think of becoming... that, Voldemort had been Tom once, had remembered well enough to recreate Tom far too well for his own good, and there could have been something.

Or there could not. There probably wasn't anything safe, much less anything he'd want....

But he did want to know.

The... whatever it was had probably gone straight to Professor Dumbledore, but Tom wasn't sure he could look the Headmaster in the eye and ask for things that had belonged to Voldemort. There was another alternative, luckily. He didn't know Ginny's brothers very well, but he did know the only ones likely to travel in multiples and know to watch out for secret deliveries were the infamous twins.

And he wouldn't put it past them to have gotten a much better look at the shipment than anyone reasonable would think possible.

Finding them, now... that was going to be interesting. Perhaps he could ask Ginny... or wait for them after Gryffindor's Quidditch practice....?

He glanced up when a raindrop landed on his nose; the thick grey clouds were obviously going to spill more of them, so Tom quickened his pace toward the castle and slipped inside before it could start pouring.

"Did you leave our sister out in the rain?"

...Or he could run across the Weasley twins entirely at random.

"No, I stayed behind to talk to the sphinx; she had to go watch Hermione's cat." He paused. "This may sound kind of odd, but did you two get a look at some... package or something that was delivered to the school today?" Okay, so maybe that wasn't subtle. But Tom hadn't had very many possessions of his own, and had felt keenly the loss of his few treasures once he'd managed to settle in.

Both twins' eyebrows went up. "We did...."

"...But is it something you really want to know about?"

"I don't want a look at Voldemort's things because they were Voldemort's, if that's what you're asking." Ginny had told him one of the best ways to deal with the twins was to stay on the offensive. "I want to know if any of it used to be mine."

"Most of it looked pretty nasty."

"Didn't seem like anything you'd have had yet," the other added, nodding. "There were some quills that didn't look alarming, but they didn't look like anything special either."

"There was that one picture, though...."

Tom paled, ghost-white. "Picture? Of who?"

The twins regarded him with what looked like alarm. "How should we know?" one asked reasonably. "Don't faint."

"I'm not going to faint," he snapped. "What did it look like?"

"A woman," the other offered with a shrug. "Dark hair, fair skin -- didn't really get a good look. It did look quite old -- a bit knocked about on the edges." His eyes narrowed a bit at Tom, head tilting. "Who d'you think it was? Too old to be a girlfriend... your mum?"

Tom swayed slightly. It couldn't be... could it? Would Voldemort have kept it? He stared blankly at the twins for a moment, then turned and sped off toward Dumbledore's office at not quite a run.

*****