literature

Into the head: I hold my breath (14.5)

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Summary: Tom Riddle invites Harry to Hogsmeade when Lockhart turns up at the pub, distant and confused.

( First Chapter )  | previous: (truthful mirrors)

The weekend after Halloween was a Hogsmeade weekend. Just before meeting Ron and Hermione, Harry paced under the archways overlooking part of the castle. Harry counted the beams and support, looking out to where Sirius had been held before Buckbeak, Hermione and he had rescued him. Harry remembered his godfather’s face, and the way he hovered around anyone in Grimmald Place. He felt twinge of guilt, as he looked up at the blue sky and prepared to leave for the village.

“What are you doing up here, Harry?” Tom’s voice was quiet, and had an odd quality to it—hesitation? Curiosity? “I looked for you.” That curve of Tom’s lip… hunger, maybe.

“I’m going to the village in a bit. Are you?”

“Mmm. A little later, I think. There’s something I want to check.” Tom said carefully. He cleared his throat and shifted. “Could I… spend some time with you? At Hogsmeade, just the two of us. We could look around the shops, or have a Butterbeer…”

Harry stared blankly. “Just the two of us… Why? What’re you trying to hide from Ron and Hermione?”

Tom straightened his shoulders a bit. “I want to spend time with you, you prat. Without your friends trying to coddle you and get under foot. We don’t have to visit at Hogsmeade, if that’s what’s bothering you. The library, the Chamber or any other secret rooms you lot have discovered. Empty classrooms are difficult with Umbridge insisting on no less than six inches between boys and girls.” Tom looked amused, “and she’ll change it to boys as well if we’re seen.”

Harry nodded, thinking. Maybe he’d ask Dobby about a place they could go… The House Elf would surely know of a place out of the reach of the High Inquisitor. He shook his head, and looked off towards Hogsmeade. “You could come with us. You’re in Divination, aren’t you? We’re going to try guessing about some of the visitors at the pub by stealing glances at their palms. And doing this thing called ‘cold’ and ‘hot’ reading that I heard about on a Muggle program to make it more convincing…”

Tom looked at Harry inquisitively. When Harry didn’t elaborate, he said, “I’ll see you there, then.” Tom gave a charming smile, his gaze lingering on Harry.

“Your eyelashes are rather long. Your neck, too.” Harry pointed out without thinking. Then he flushed.

Tom laughed, the noise high and clear, melodic rather than eerie, but still Harry shivered, remembering another laugh. Tom, however, didn’t seem to notice. “I’ll see you there,” Tom said again, and gave a little bow before he withdrew.

Sometime later, Harry met Ron and Hermione and they made their way down the path. Ron grumbled all the way about the weight of his textbook and how they usually just made things up for Divination.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron! Harry’s actually trying to do the assignment. Just let him!” and fixed him with such an annoyed glare that Ron finally gave up.

“So. What’ve we got for homework? That palmistry review. And the dream diary. We’re meant to practice on five people…. How do we get someone to come over? Maybe I could just get a handprint off the table or something,” Ron looked at the table for signs of smudges.

“Excuse me,” Harry raised his hand, signaling the owner and barista, Madam Rosmerta. “Could we have three Butterbeers and a few minutes to read your palm?”

Madam Rosmerta threw back her head and laughed. “Well! I hadn’t heard you were interested in Divination, Mr. Potter. I’m sure if your dad had been, he would have asked me the same thing, love. Well. Maybe for a few minutes… I’ll be right back, dear.”

Hermione looked like she’d swallowed something sour. “Not you too,” she muttered.

Harry pulled his textbook out and flipped to the palmistry section. “Remember, it’s heart, head, life. Those are the three easiest to see, and the fate line down the middle is kinda fun.”

Ron blanched. “You mean for me to read her palm?”

“Sure. I’ll do Hermione, Tom… and Luna or Neville if I see them…” Harry nudged a bit of parchment over to Ron. "Here, look at this...it's from a muggle book. It's supposed to apply to most people..." Harry pulled a stack of parchment out of his bag and let it flutter on the table. He'd copied a few of the images onto the scraps, but some of his ‘copying spells’ were just as rickety and illegible as if he'd written it.

Ron squinted and picked one up. "You just going to read one of these randomly then?"

Harry shook his head. "Nah, they won't like the reading unless it's from a star chart or something. I'm trying to memorize them before she gets back." Harry replied. "But that's probably not going to happen, so..." he shrugged.

Hermione began to busily sort the notes into the separate lines, scoffing at some of them as she went. "These don't have any sort of proof, do they? And these could apply to anyone."

Harry read his notes aloud as if he hadn't heard her. "If their fate line starts at the life line, they're self-made... wait, was that right? And if it starts at the base of the thumb, family and friends are important... index to pinky means they’re in the public eye...a break is changing jobs. Crosses over the line foreshadow when they'll come across some opposition..."

"This is ridiculous. Your fate isn't written on your palm." Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, probably not." Harry agreed. "But if you spin it right, it sounds good." He tried not to laugh at Hermione's indignant expression.

"Not quite memorized, are we?" Madam Rosmerta said good-naturedly, smiling cheerily as she handed out the Butterbeers.

Ron turned scarlet. "Errrr...."

Madam Rosmerta only laughed. "Well then, I've got a few minutes before they'll need me, so I don't see why we shouldn't give it a try." Her eyes twinkled. "Your father would always try things like that too, you know, trying to distract me with a few laughs." She held out a hand to Harry, though, and not Ron.

Harry looked at her hand, "Your hands are very well cared for... my Muggle aunt has to use loads of hand creams with all of the washing up and things... does magic keep your hands nice?" Harry spotted the three lines and plunged on. "This line is your heart line...yours starts here, right on the side of your palm, and ends here, under your index finger. That means you've got a normal view of romance and love. Right, and this one's your life line...” Harry looked over at Ron. "I've forgotten that bit. Want to give it a go?"

Ron looked half-pleased, half-terrified. "Sure." He squeaked. "Life lines are really good, yeah, and yours is nice and long...and deep too. That means you're healthy." He stumbled over the basics.

Hermione sipped primly at her Butterbeer, torn between amusement and annoyance.

Harry promptly stopped listening when he noticed Professor Lockhart come in. He nudged Hermione. He nodded at Madam Rosmerta, who was looking at Ron with kindly attention, and made his way over, calling, "Be right back..." over his shoulder.

Hermione barely had time to shake her head.

"Harry!" Lockhart shifted from one foot to the next, smiling that toothy smile of his. "Yes, we are a bit overdue for a chat...I knew you'd come seek me out." He winked.

Harry didn't know what to make of that, so just said, "I just thought I'd come and talk." It was a spontaneous move that made Harry's heart speed up, and something about talking with the Professor here was nagging at him.

"Yes, yes. I dare say you're eager to be seen with me!" he chuckled.

"It's not that." Harry replied vaguely. "I don't care about being famous, Professor. You should have realized by now. It's just...it's November 2nd, and that's a...what is it called?"

Lockhart nodded seriously. "All Hallows’ Eve is followed by the Muggle All Saints Day, and that makes today All Souls Day. In the magical world, it's recognized as a day when the barriers are thinner, when we pay our respects to the deceased. Yes, yes, I did mention that last class didn't I? But I don't see what that has to do with me."

"I want to read your palms." Harry blurted out. "Er. Your palm. Just the one, you see."

"Do you! I'm afraid I don't put much stock in that sort of thing, Harry. You must understand... people trying to explain away my success, or arguing with my life's calling. You know, I was asked to join the--"

"Let's sit here." Harry said, dragging the Professor firmly by the hand. Lockhart only followed feebly, his smile wavering. Without the smile, his jaw looked weak, Harry noticed.

They sat.

"Er." Said Lockhart.

“Well, look, you've got a star here. Wow, I've never actually seen one of those...you either have had great success and good fortune, or you're lacking in confidence and have suffered a great misfortune." Harry poked the star. "Which do you think it is?"

"Success, of course. I am an amazingly successful wizard." Lockhart began to reclaim his smile before Harry interrupted him again.

"That's if it's on one of the main lines-- heart, life or head line..." Harry mused. “OK, life-line. Let’s see…you’ve got a double-life-line. That’s pretty rare too, you know. Um, that means you either have a twin—no? A soul-mate—er, right, not in a relationship, are you? Or are leading a double-life…” Harry stopped and wondered privately if Lockhart was a spy.

“Certainly not.” Lockhart sputtered. “Spies lead dastardly dangerous lives with very little acknowledgement, you know. It’s not for me, oh-no, I keep my heroics in the open. Why don’t you look at the fate-line?”

“The line breaks off suddenly here.” Harry observed. “Like someone cut it right off.”

Lockhart smiled weakly. "There are fairy-tales about thumbs and fingers going missing, you know? All sorts like that. I always wondered, what happens to a person’s fortune if part of their hand is cut off?

Harry kept glancing down at his tones and the textbook, looking at the variations listed about each line. "The Giant's Daughter loses a pinky." Harry supplied absently. "And Wormtail lost his whole hand, didn't he?" That thought struck him so suddenly it slipped right out before he even thought of who he was talking to.

But Lockhart wasn't listening. He was off on one of his Adventures, spinning a tale and withdrawing his hand. "Yes, fairies sometimes ask for odd things for a token. Nothing like a lock of hair or a vow, no. They might ask for your pinky, all right, or they might claim all of your life because of some silly mistake-- walking widdershins around a church, for instance."

Harry looked up. "That last one was Child Roland." He said. "I didn't know you knew fairy tales, Professor."

The door to the Three Broomsticks opened. Harry was looking at Lockhart at the time, and saw out of the corner of his eye one familiar dark-haired boy enter. Sharp eyes found him immediately.

Tom Riddle made his way over to where Harry and Lockhart stood. "Hello professor, Harry."

At the same time, someone said, "Oh, Gilderoy Lockhart! Could I please have your autograph?" a middle aged witch stepped between Harry and Lockhart, attracting even more attention to the novelist.

"Oh, I carry signed photos just for these sorts of occasions. Here you are! Can I add your name, Miss...?" Lockhart didn’t seem to have heard Tom at all. There were fewer people asking than had been reported at a book signing earlier that year, but Harry supposed it was because the people of Hogsmeade had already seen enough of the man.

"Thank you, thank you...” Lockheart hid his hands away from Harry, as though worried Harry might start up with the palmistry again. “Yes, where were we? Childe Rowland is a fascinating story, yes it is. The young boy is the last of his brothers to chase after poor Burd Ellen, who has been stolen away to the fairy's realm. But let me tell you this, as a man who's traveled far and wide, my dear boy." He leaned in close, his eyes sparkling madly in the dim light.

"I'm not going to kill everyone I meet on the Fairy Road." Harry said flatly. "Even if they do take a bird from me."

Lockhart giggled. "Er, no, not that bit. Yes, I imagine the fairy-tale meant 'good brand' as wand, and 'off with their head' meant, er, to Obliviate them, don't you think?"

Harry remained unconvinced.

Lockhart squared his shoulders and shifted, casting his gaze about the Three Broomsticks as though he expected someone to be listening. "Er, anyway, so if you find yourself in a strange land, presented with a Cup of mysterious power or a golden basin full of good foods, do not eat of it."

Harry leaned backward, surprised. “That’s what Merlin said in the story. And bird Ellen.”

Tom blanched, and pressed his lips together in a tight line, but in response to what? The advice Lockhart and Merlin had given? His usually controlled expression gave way to shock-- or perhaps, dread? But the Dark Lord's Horcrux, as he said he was, quickly schooled his expression into something more bored and average. His eyes searched the professor's face, and then shot to Harry. Harry wondered what he saw, what he had remembered.

Lockhart seemed to become aware of several curious and some disdainful students staring at him. Then his eyes flickered between Tom and Harry, and he began to make his way to the door, his face unreadable.

Harry was immediately suspicious. "Aren't you going to finish the fairy tale application to real Wizarding travels?" Harry called after him, but Lockhart was waving him off, out the door as fast as he'd come. It was really most mysterious.

Tom put a hand on Harry's elbow and glanced over at the table where Ron, Hermione, and Madam Rosmerta were still sitting. "Shall we follow him? Or go back to your friends?"

Harry got a stubborn look about him, remembering how both Snape and Tom interacted with Lockhart. "Follow him." Harry always had good instincts, and right now his gut was telling him to keep an eye on Lockhart. The fact that Tom had suggested it seemed to make it that much more attractive.

So they slipped out of the Three Broomsticks, bumping shoulders and moving quickly through the streets. It was a cold day, and the wind was blowing strongly, so it should have been easy to find Lockhart.

Instead, Harry found himself close on Tom's heels, intensely aware of their fingers-- which seemed to brush unnecessarily at times, and each instance left him distracted. He'd never felt so aware of anyone else.

“Bird Ellen was taken away because they walked widdershins around the church, you know. Taken away into fairy land… You haven’t been walking counter-clockwise today, have you?” Harry wondered if it was all the hurrying that made him flush, made his heart beat quickly.

"No." Tom replied. “Where did that man disappear to?”

Together they searched the crowds, looking for the blond man. “Let’s look over there…” Tom casually took Harry’s hand under the pretense of leading him through a crowd of shoppers.

But look as they might, they found neither hide nor hair of the Defense teacher.

"There's a goat." Harry pointed.

"That's the Hog's Head. Shall we go in?" Tom opened the door, gesturing for Harry to enter.

Once the two of them went in, Harry found it to be very different from Madam Rosmerta's establishment. He looked about with interest, noting the flurries of dust and the distinctly shady patronage. It was like a den of monsters, only most of them looked human. Ish.

"Quieter here..." Harry mused. He made his way to the bar, and plopped down on an open stool. Tom immediately followed suit, sitting next to him and immediately leaning close. Harry could feel his warmth, and smiled.

"What should we be looking for?" Tom mused lazily.

Harry shrugged. "We'll find Lockhart on the way out." He suggested. "After that, we can look for suspicious signs of Dark Uprisings in the corners of town and--"

Tom snorted. "No, we shall not. Trouble finds you without you looking for it, didn't you say?" He lazily drew his hands closer to Harry's, capturing one of them.

Harry tugged his hand free, but leaned in close. "So what did you have in mind?"

Tom's smile was slow and mischievous. "I want to know you." He said. "Tell me what you're afraid of... Tell me what you do besides school..." His eyes shone brightly.

Harry made an annoyed noise. "What is this, an interview?"

Tom snorted. "Fine. Don't tell me about yourself. What do you think of divination, then? Or the 'secret' club that Weasley girl is setting up?"

That caught Harry's attention. "What club?"

"Not sure. But by all the dark looks and exchanges, I'd say it has to do with the school's most neglected subject. Defense, of course."

"Ah. A dada club." (*2)

"What?" Tom frowned.

"This is not a pipe." Harry said helpfully.

"Right... Well. Don't you want to join the club?"

"You just want an insider informant," Harry accused.

"You're the one trying to confuse me by randomly insisting on not relevant...art movements." Tom said loftily. "Besides, Defense is your best subject. Why wouldn't you join?"

Harry considered this. "Because they think I'm mad, untrustworthy, and generally dislike it when I open my mouth?" Thinking about it made his stomach do strange things.

“That could prove to be a problem.”

"Don't sound so smug about it... why are you glad that I can't spend time with other people?"

"Which is it, Harry? I want an informant, or I want you all to myself? You're being... obtuse." Harry stuck his chin out, and Tom sighed. "Two Butterbeers please. From the bottle." Tom ordered.

The barkeep scowled at them, and with a long-suffering sigh, popped two Butterbeers in front of them. He collected their coins without a word.

The door opened behind them, but neither Harry nor Tom heard it. They had sipped the Butterbeer in salty, sweet, warm drafts, and looked at each other without speaking.

Harry noticed there wasn't anyone around them from school. The thought made his heart give a little hop. Harry was thinking about what Sirius had said when Tom spoke:

"Do you trust me?" Tom asked softly.

"Enough." Harry replied, eyes flicking to Tom's smile. He just had to lean in one scant inch, and he'd feel the soft breath, maybe brush with an eyelash or-- "I want to trust you. But it's... hard."

"That's rather foolish of you," Tom breathed, his lips parting as he leaned forward. "I don't trust anyone..."

Harry's heart beat quickly in his throat. It was like a small bird was caged there.

Tom was closer still. The moment was caught in glass.

Their lips met in a slow, cautious caress. Harry concentrated on the feeling of soft skin, the taste of Butterbeer and forgot everything but the sensation of the kiss. Harry wondered at the strange feeling he felt, magnetic and compelling, and perhaps…thoroughly unnatural. Magical perhaps. His lips tingled. “Oh.”

Tom turned his head though, breaking the contact there. Harry could still feel his heartbeat, quick and light. They still touched. Tom's eyes had gone blank though, and he muttered something Harry wasn't listening to.

Tom's hands fluttered, stopping on Harry's throat, forcing his attention. "Your pulse is elevated," He tilted his head back, watching Harry through slitted eyes. His tone was not loving, he had not whispered words of sweet nothing. "Your blood flows in his veins," Tom whispered. He touched his mouth to the back of his hand.

The voice came out of nowhere, clear and high. "Do you remember, then Riddle?" it was hallow, a pale imitation of his usual.

Harry toppled his chair over backwards, and drew his wand. He stared at
Professor Lockhart, his arm extended. Harry’s head hurt...

"Blood.... they bled you. Both of you, didn't they? That foolish rat of a man... and they actually wanted me to clean up afterwards... A clean wipe...."

A flash, and Harry saw the world through snake eyes, heat making up the majority of the image, but he saw things overlaid, recognized things as though everything was through his own eyes. Just an instant, a strong feeling-- such rage. Harry knew that He had to come-- to take back what was his.

And then the image was gone and the feeling passed.

"You were there." Harry whispered, horrified as realization and memory peaked in the wake of the waking-dream. "You were at the Graveyard."

Tom slid off the stool and stood. His hand clutched at the wand Harry had no memory of.

Lockhart’s face began to change. His handsome features lost definition all at once as he skin sagged and eyes bulged. It was as though something inside had snapped and rustled its way to the surface. Trying to get out.

Click, click…rustle.

“Boys.” Lockhart said in a low tone. “I begin to lose my patience with you…”

Harry backed off a few steps to look into mad eyes. “Professor, what do you mean?”

“You shouldn’t have said that.” Lockhart’s fingers were rigid and stiff, clambering spider-like and jerkily up the table.

“You’re not well.” Harry said.

“I’ve been not. Well for as long as you.” Lockhart snarled. “But no one cares about poor, ‘cowardly’ Lockhart. I know what the teachers think of me. I know how many people even thought about looking!” He spoke too fast. Far less like the lilting, ironic flare he used in class—more like Snape when he was really angry.

“You went missing.” Tom supplied. “Nobody came to look for you, and it upset you, understandably. But you’re doing all right. You’re no coward, Professor.” He said calmly, smoothly, as though talking down a beast. “I bet you could even undo the memory charm.”

Lockhart began to laugh. “Do you know where they hid my heart, Potter? ” ‘Riddle me that, said the giant to the youth, and you may have my daughter.’ Lockhart lunged, his mouth wide open, his fingernails raised to gorge flesh.

 

A sliver of a memory danced before Harry’s eyes. He was tied to the stone, looking on as Lockhart was made to watch as…

…as Tom Riddle’s throat was slit.




...tbc...

Next chapter: devils dance, hearts wander.

Chapter Title: Gossip at the Broomsticks and into the head...
Preview image: mine. (:

Family is doing much better this week. ♥ Haven't decided one way or another about where to post. ^^; but in case I decide it's easier to upload only to one platform, do make note of the Ao3 and ff.net links: Archive of our Own, and fanfiction.net

Archive:
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Thoughts? Icon #2 - Voldemort smile (Harry Potter)

Next: Devils dance, hearts wander.
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Leopold002's avatar
I've already said this... but you have my undivided attention!