CHAPTER 6- A Visit From a Friend
1st November 1977
Albus Dumbledore sighed and tried to hide a smile as he confronted Madam Pince. It was the second time that week that the librarian had asked him to ‘sort that bane of her existence out’, meaning Hogwarts resident poltergeist, Peeves.
“Well, where is he, now, my dear Madam Pince? He seems to have vanished!” Dumbledore said, with as straight a face as he could manage. The librarian crossed her arms huffily and replied sulkily.
“That girl Evans cleared him off, which is more than I can say for you, Albus, when it comes to that-thing! Next time, I expect you to remove him from the castle. He has caused too much damage to me and to-to others…” she finished guiltily.
When she left, Dumbledore chuckled to himself. He knew very well who those others were; one other in particular. It had become quite a joke between students to comment on the relationship of Argus Filch and the Librarian.
Suddenly, a noise caught his attention, a rustling of paper. He followed the sound and was led in front of the Hogwarts Head Girl who intently reading a passage from a book. Recognizing the slanted writing of Ancient Runes, he said jovially:
“I do believe you have no note for that particular book, Miss Evans.”
The young woman froze at the sound of his voice and turned steadily into a deep red colour. She nodded awkwardly and handed the book to Dumbledore. He glanced at the cover, ready to hand it back with a wink, when he realized what this book was. A tumble of memories flooded his mind and he felt the need to steady himself. A few seconds later, his self-control had returned. He smiled again warmly.
“Miss Evans, you should be preparing for the Hogsmeade trip. Some students have already left but I have requested that Mr Potter wait for you. I wish for you to patrol the village.” Dumbledore hesitated for a fraction before continuing. “I believe there might be need for caution today, or at least in the evening, when I expect a certain- visitor.”
“Yes, Professor.” The girl seemed resigned to her fate. He could tell she did not wish to spend the outing in James Potter’s company. But Dumbledore knew otherwise. Lily Evans turned before she left the library. “Oh and good morning.”
“Good morning, Miss Evans.” Dumbledore responded calmly. As soon as she had disappeared, his eyes returned to the book. Today of all days… After that contemplation, he returned to his duties with Professor McGonagall until five o’clock. As the clock struck, he hurriedly walked to his office, still holding the book in his hands. As he turned the knob of the door, a voice said sarcastically:
“Well, Dumbledore, we thought we’d lost you.”
The Headmaster spared not a glance to the portrait of Phineas Nigellus, as he usually would have done. Phineas was the one he enjoyed talking to most (an argument or two was guaranteed in their conversations) but today he hadn’t the time. He could hear the portrait moodily muttering behind his back. Dumbledore laid the book down and reached a hand out to open a small cupboard. From there, he pulled out a small stone basin, with an illuminating fluid inside; the Pensieve.
“In trouble, are you? That’s the only time you ever use that thing,” Phineas sought for attention.
“I, myself, am not in trouble, Phineas. But if I do not do this, my students may well be,” Dumbledore said before plunging himself inside the bottomless fluid.
“Old fool,” Phineas muttered with venom. The rest of the portraits returned the compliment.
Dumbledore straightened his robes and took in the scene around him. He was, once again, in the library, only this time he was facing two people he would never ordinarily have faced; Tom Riddle and himself, although much younger. He chuckled at the state of his beard.
He could remember this night very well. It was in Tom Riddle’s fifth year of Hogwarts. And the Dumbledore of that time had found him doing something that a Prefect would not customarily be doing.
“Tell me, Tom. Is it usual for school Prefects to use their time for patrol in order to get some last-minute homework done?”
Tom snapped his head up. He had obviously been paying too much attention underlining something in his book to realise he wasn’t alone. His handsome face frowned. “I’m sorry, Professor. It’s just a translation for Ancient Runes that I haven’t quite finished. I was hoping to have it ready for tomorrow.” His expression betrayed no emotion, but Dumbledore knew he was hiding something.
“Then let me assist you. I consider myself quite apt at Runes. Other than Transfiguration, they were once my best subject,” he offered.
The boy’s face broke a little at that offer of help. Then he composed himself one more time. “No, sir, there really is no need. I’d like to manage by myself.”
At that, Dumbledore knew for certain that something was amiss. “Could I have a look at the book you are using, Tom?” His voice was mild, yet Riddle sensed the threat.
“Sir, I’d rather you didn’t.” Once again, the Dumbledore of fifty years previously sensed the challenge arising. The on looking Dumbledore watched quietly, remembering just how many times the teacher and student had played at this game.
“Hand me the book, Tom.”
The boy, recognising the authority of his teacher’s voice, put on an ugly expression and threw the book over. The Transfiguration teacher glanced at the book and then at Tom. “This is from the Restricted Section. And I doubt you have a note.”
Tom Riddle didn’t hang his head nor did he put an expression of defeat as any other student would have. He stood up and outstretched his hand. “Can I have that book, Professor?”
Dumbledore looked startled. “No, Tom, you can’t.”
Tom left from his studying table and walked from the library. “I’ll continue my rounds then, Professor?” The game continued.
“Yes, Tom. And I’ll see you tomorrow in class. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore.”
As Dumbledore returned with a daze to his office, he knew immediately that he was not alone. The visitor he’d been expecting had arrived. Tom Riddle could not have looked more different. He was wearing midnight dark robes and an inscrutable expression.
“I do hope you weren’t visiting a memory that includes me, Dumbledore. It would be highly impolite.”
The Headmaster didn’t shudder at the voice as anyone else would have done. He smiled sincerely and sat his desk, opposite Voldemort. The memory of his last visit was still quite vivid.
“You have not come to ask for a job again, surely Tom? I expect your current activities are much more time consuming.”
“They are,” Voldemort answered. “But I have come here for a short visit only. To warn you, Dumbledore.”
Dumbledore continued smiling. “To warn me?”
“Yes,” came the hideous voice. “To warn you. My followers are innumerable by now and not only in the adult wizarding world. Your faithful students have decided to join as well. I wanted you to know, so that, when the end does come, you will know it is your students, whom you so love, that will bring your downfall. Along with me, of course.”
“Dare not harm them, Tom. Or you will face me, alone. I know more about you now. And I know what you have deceived my students into doing. Your Horcrux is no longer a secret.”
Tom stood up instantly and stared at Dumbledore cruelly. A smile formed on his face. “If you know of my Horcrux, Dumbledore, then you are woefully ignorant. You shall never really know.”
Hogwart’s Headmaster watched his old student leave. Then, exhausted, he prepared himself for
some thinking.
“I never did like that boy,” commented Phineas airily.
A/N: Oh, it’s getting darker and darker isn’t it? And that word-game Voldemort played-Horcrux in contrast to Horcruxes- I hope you all got it. Hope you enjoyed it and anything not yet explained will be explained next chapter. Which will be soon! By the way-have you checked out the banner I made for Thrice Defied? Tell me what you think of my designing skills as well!