Summary: The untold tragic love story of Tom Riddle and Genevieve A. D. Grindelwald and the quest of relinquishing darkness, in hopes, to not only save the wizarding world, but to reunite the most powerful family that destiny has ever seen.
The Prologue
Chapter One: The Scrapbook
Chapter Two: The Name
Chapter Three: The Manor
Chapter Four: The Hidden Message
Chapter Five: The Apartment
Chapter Six: Revival
Chapter Seven: Revelations Part I
Chapter Eight: Revelations Part II
Chapter Nine: An Alliance
Chapter Ten: Slytherin's Locket
Chapter Eleven: Hufflepuff's Cup
Chapter Twelve: Ravenclaw's Diadem
Chapter Thirteen: Nagini
Chapter Fourteen: The Ring and The Diary
Chapter Fifteen: Harry Potter
Chapter Sixteen: The Ritual
Chapter Seventeen: The Return of Tom Marvolo Riddle
Chapter Eighteen: A Journey to the Past: The First Year
Chapter Nineteen: A Journey to the Past: Third Year
Chapter Twenty: A Journey to the Past Part: Fifth Year
Chapter Twenty-One: A Journey to the Past: The Summer before Sixth Year
Chapter Twenty-Two: A Journey to the Past: Sixth Year Part I
Chapter Twenty-Three: A Journey to the Past: Sixth Year Part II
Chapter Twenty-Four: The Cracks Beneath Them: Sixth Year Part III
Chapter Twenty-Five: The Cracks Beneath Them Part II: Sixth Year Part II
summery: dean comes over to talk to you about his dad
Itâs a late Friday night, and you are getting ready for bed. You slip into your pink pajamas, and start to do your skincare. You walk into your bathroom, and as you start to wash your face you hear a rock hit your window with a soft thud.
You shrug and continue to wash your face, and then you hear the noise again. You roll your eyes thinking itâs a dumb bird.
You walk out our bathroom when you are done, and look out the window.
At the bottom you see Dean. You smile and open your window, and clubs up the ladder into your room. He lands with a thud on the floor, and you quickly shh him.
âHey, sweetheartâ he says but his usual cocky demeanor is not there itâs replaced with something else.
You give him a smile, and your heart flutters you have been in love with him since you met him. You want to tell him but youâve been friends with him long enough he doesnât do love or let people get attached.
âDonât you have some party to be at?â You ask because after all it is a Friday night.
He shrugs, ânah, Iâd rather be here with my best friendâ you roll your eyes, but you smile at him.
You miss seeing him outside of school, and when you try to make plans he always says he has a job, but last time you checked he was unemployed.
âWhatâs on your mind Deanâ you ask noticing him looking around nervously, you pat the bed spot besides you.
He gets up and sits next to you on the bed, and he lays his head on your shoulder. You stiffen becasue heâs never the one to really do âsoftâ things like this. Oh, so he says.
âMy dadâ he huffs out.
You know John can be sort of a harsh man to live with, and youâve seen part of it when you would sleep over with dean sometimes.
He starts to explain how John is being much harder on him than usual, and making Dean feel useless, and you notice he starts to tear up a bit.
He starts to talk about how he thinks and feels useless now because John is getting in his head. He tells me about how the things he does like random hook ups, and going to parties is just to feel wanted by people.
âHey, hey look at meâ you say softly and he looks at you, âyou are not useless Dean you are my best friend, and I care you so much I hate hearing yourself talk about yourself like thisâ
His eyes soften a bit, and you wipe his tears away while telling him he is more than what John says he is.
âI-I just canât keep living like thisâ he says voice hoarse, and he continues âI need to leave, and never look backâ
Your heat drops. He wants to leave, and this means you. You know it, and youâve seen this look on him before. When he saw Sam getting bullied. The look of pure determination.
You remember when he beat up Samâs bullies a few months back, and you remember patching up his knuckles after.
âHe expects me to carry all the weight of our jobsâ he sighs, and rolls into his back you turn of your lamp and lay next to him.
You want to tell him how you feel, but you know you shouldnât. So you think to yourself maybe tell him on graduation.
âI know that look sweetheart what are you thinking about?â
âOh nothingâ you lie.
He rolls his eyes then he starts to fall asleep. You slowly get out of bed, and get a blanket to cover him because heâs over the comforter and you donât want to move him.
You lay next to him, and whisper âI love youâ so quietly that you can barely hear yourself. You smile to yourself knowing Dean is here with you.
You slowly drift off to sleep happy that heâs there with you, and not at some dumb party getting drunk or with some girl who doesnât appreciate him like you.
The next morning you wake up to an empty bed, and assume heâs in the bathroom. You go to knock on the door
âDean?â you call out, and no answer.
Maybe heâs eating everything out the fridge, so you head downstairs. You check the kitchen and heâs not there.
You start to get worried this isnât like him to just leave you, you know he leaves one night with no warning, but world he do this to you?
You start to get worried and head back to your room frantically looking for a note. You donât fine one.
You start to tear up. Why would he leave? You then check your phone and see no messages from Dean, but you see one from Sam that reads
âSorry. Dean dropped out, and is not going to be back.â
Why didnât he tell you? you were always there to listen to him no judgment.
Then you see the bottom message:
âLose his number. His request.â
You start to cry. Why would he do this? You canât bring yourself to delete his number. You then remember his rule of not letting people get attached.
You drop to your knees, and hold your head in your hands. You just let it all out.
âMy deanâ you whisper brokenly.
He was all that you wanted, and it just vanished overnight.
You couldnât even tell him you loved him before he left.
Your everything was just ripped from you, and you feel empty without him.
You text him three simple words:
âI love you.â
You wait for a response from him, and then your phone finally buzzes with a message from him:
âYou got attached. Not my fault.â
You freeze looking your phone. Maybe you are reading it wrong.
Nope.
Thatâs it.
Then another message comes from him:
âI meant what I said. lose my number.â
You delete his number with tears streaming down your face.
You lost your Dean. The man you loved.
He doesnât get attached or do love. It one sided love the worst type of love.
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. Sixth Year Part III, unraveling the cracks that arise during times of difficulty and uncertainty.
WARNINGS: Some warnings that this chapter has are themes of parental conflict and manipulation, emotional distress and loneliness, magical transformation.
WORD COUNT: 5.2k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Splitting this section into two parts of Sixth Year Part III!
Previous Part| Next Part
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Cracks Beneath Them: Sixth Year Part III
The flat had fallen into a rare kind of peace. Soft rain tapped against the windows while the fire crackled low in the hearth, bathing the sitting room in warm amber light. Apollo slept soundly against Tomâs chest, bundled carefully in a silver blanket, while Artemis rested in Genevieveâs arms beside him. The twinsâ breathing filled the silence in quiet, uneven rhythms. For once, the world beyond the flat felt far away. No Grindelwald. No Dumbledore. No Knights of Walpurgis. No expectations. Just them.Â
Genevieve glanced over the top of Artemisâ head, watching Tom carefully rock Apollo with slow, awkward movements. It still startled her sometimes â seeing Tom Riddle, brilliant and terrifying Tom Riddle, pacing the floor at three in the morning because their son refused to sleep.
âYouâre getting better at that,â she murmured softly.
Tom looked down at Apollo, who had wrapped a tiny hand around one of his fingers. Something unreadable flickered across his face. âI dislike when he cries,â Tom admitted quietly. âI can never tell what he needs.â Genevieve smiled faintly. âHeâs a baby, Tom. Sometimes they cry for no reason at all.â Tom frowned slightly at that, as though dissatisfied by the lack of logic. âThat seems inefficient.âA laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
Tom looked up then, watching her smile with an expression so soft it almost hurt to look at. Moments like these frightened Genevieve in ways she could not explain. Because she could see the man he could have become. Not a monster. Not a dark lord. Just Tom.
She shifted Artemis gently against her shoulder. âYou know,â she said quietly, âthey calm down faster with you now.â
Tomâs brows lifted slightly. âDo they?â
âMhm.â Her smile deepened. âApollo especially. He already watches you constantly.â
Tom glanced back down at the sleeping infant in his arms, and Genevieve watched something dangerous unfold behind his eyes. Not cruelty. Fear. Raw and unfamiliar.
âWhat?â she asked softly. Tom was silent for a long moment before finally speaking. âI keep thinking about how easy it would be.â
Genevieve stilled. âHow easy what would be?â
His jaw tightened slightly. âTo lose this.â
The room suddenly felt colder. Tomâs gaze remained fixed on Apollo as he continued in a low voice. âOne illness. One attack. One mistake.â His fingers curled protectively around the blanket. âPeople lose everything every day, Genevieve. Families. Children. Entire bloodlines erased in moments.â Genevieve swallowed carefully. âTomâŠâ
âI wonât allow that to happen to us.â There was something unsettling in the certainty of his voice.
Genevieve had heard that tone before. Usually moments before he did something terrible. She rose slowly from the sofa and crossed toward him, Artemis sleeping peacefully against her chest. Sitting beside him, she rested her head gently against his shoulder.
âYou canât control everything,â she whispered.
Tomâs expression hardened almost imperceptibly. âWatch me.â
The words settled heavily between them. Genevieve closed her eyes briefly. That was the problem. Tom loved with the same intensity that he pursued power. Completely. Obsessively. Without limits. What frightened her was not that he loved their children too little.It was that he might love them enough to destroy himself trying to protect them.
Apollo stirred softly in Tomâs arms. Instantly, Tomâs expression softened again. The transformation was so quick it almost made Genevieve question whether she had imagined the darkness at all. Tom adjusted the blanket around their son with surprising gentleness.
âHe has your eyes,â he murmured.
Genevieve smiled faintly. âAnd your stubbornness.â
Tom huffed quietly in amusement. Across the room, the grandfather clock ticked steadily onward while rain continued to patter against the glass. For a while, silence returned between them. Then Tom spoke again.
âWhen I was a child,â he said quietly, âI used to imagine what it would feel like to belong somewhere.â
Genevieve looked at him carefully but did not interrupt. âI thought power would fill that emptiness.â His eyes lingered on the twins. âBut this feels different.â
Genevieve felt her chest ache. âThen stay,â she whispered. âStay here with us. Let this be enough.â
For a moment, she thought he might say yes. Truly yes. Tom turned toward her slowly, his dark eyes unbearably vulnerable.
âI want it to be.â
The honesty in his voice nearly broke her. But thenâ Far beneath HogwartsâŠHe felt it.
The Chamber. Waiting. Calling to him. The basiliskâs distant presence curled against the edge of his mind like a serpent stirring in sleep. Power. Protection. Control.
Tomâs expression shifted almost invisibly. Genevieve noticed anyway. And suddenly she understood something that terrified her more than anything else: Love could soften Tom Riddle. But it could not cure whatever lived in the darkest parts of him.
Tom leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against Apolloâs forehead before standing carefully. âI need to return to the castle for a few hours,â he said quietly.
Genevieveâs heart sank, though she tried not to show it. âNow?â
âIt wonât take long.â But she already knew. The Chamber was becoming another life he lived beyond her reach. Another secret. Another shadow she could not follow him into. Genevieve looked down at Artemis sleeping peacefully in her arms and forced herself to smile.
âAlright,â she whispered.
Tom stepped toward her, brushing his fingers gently against her cheek before leaning down to kiss her softly. For a brief moment, she kissed him back like nothing was wrong. Like love alone could still save them. Then he was gone. And the flat felt colder after he left.
The castle corridors were silent when Tom returned to Hogwarts. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, silvering the stone beneath his feet as he descended through the hidden passageways beneath the school. His expression was unreadable once more, every trace of warmth from the flat carefully locked away behind practiced composure. Yet Apolloâs tiny hand wrapped around his finger lingered stubbornly in his mind.
Tom clenched his jaw. Weakness. That was what attachment became if left unchecked. He had seen it happen to others â people ruled by fear because they loved something enough to lose it. But Tom refused to become helpless. The entrance to the Chamber slid open with a low groan at his command. Cold air rushed out to meet him. The basilisk stirred immediately, massive coils shifting through the darkness as Tom stepped inside. The creatureâs yellow eyes gleamed in the shadows, ancient and patient.
âYou called for me, Heir of Slytherin?â the serpent hissed.
Tom walked slowly toward the center of the chamber, his footsteps echoing endlessly. âI needed silence.â
The basilisk lowered its enormous head slightly, watching him carefully. Yet there was no silence in Tomâs mind tonight. Only Genevieveâs voice. Stay here with us. Let this be enough.
His hands curled at his sides. Enough. The word angered him. Enough was a lie people told themselves when they lacked the power to demand more from the world. Love did not stop death. Love did not protect families. Love did not preserve anything. Power did.
Tom stared up at the towering statue of Salazar Slytherin, shadows cutting sharply across his face. For the first time in years, fear had truly settled inside him. Not fear for himself. For them. Apollo. Artemis. Genevieve. The thought of losing them carved something raw into his chest. He remembered his time in the orphanage. The cold nights. Empty beds. Children disappearing without explanation. People dying like it meant nothing. No one had protected him. No one had chosen him. And now that he finally had something worth keeping, the terror of losing it consumed him more completely than he cared to admit.
The basilisk slithered closer. âYou are troubled.â
Tomâs gaze darkened. âThere are forces in this world that take everything from people,â he murmured. âTime. Death. Weakness. I will not allow them to take what belongs to me.â
The basiliskâs tongue flicked thoughtfully through the air. âThen destroy your enemies before they destroy you.â Tom closed his eyes briefly.
Simple. Brutal. Certain. That was the language the Chamber spoke. There was no hesitation. No mercy. No grief. A part of him found comfort here because the Chamber never demanded softness from him. Never asked him to be gentle or vulnerable or human. Genevieve did. And Merlin help him, he loved her enough to try. That was the unbearable part. He had tried.
The image of her holding Artemis beside the fire rose again in his mind, warm and golden and painfully fragile. Tom opened his eyes slowly. âI thought having them would change me,â he admitted quietly.
The basilisk tilted its great head. âAnd has it not?â
Tom looked toward the dark water pooling beneath the chamber floor. âIt has made me worse.â
Because now he had something to fear. Something to lose. Something capable of destroying him far more thoroughly than death ever could. The realization sickened him. The chamber fell quiet again. Then, a soft sound echoed faintly through the bond in his mind. Not the basilisk. A memory. Apollo crying. Tomâs expression faltered. He remembered the panic he had felt hearing it for the first time â the immediate, irrational need to fix it somehow. To protect him from anything capable of causing pain. He had never understood fathers before. Now he understood too well. Tom exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face.
âI need more time,â he murmured, almost to himself. He needed more knowledge. More magic. More control. Enough power to ensure that no one would ever be able to touch his family. Not Dumbledore. Not Grindelwald. Not death itself.
The basilisk watched him silently, ancient eyes reflecting the growing darkness inside him. And somewhere deep beneath Tomâs fearâŠVoldemort began to take shape.Not born from hatred. But from love twisted into obsession.
Far above the chamber, Genevieve sat awake in the nursery, Artemis asleep against her shoulder while Apollo rested in the cradle nearby. Rain continued softly against the windows as candlelight flickered across the room. She stared at the doorway Tom had walked through hours earlier. Waiting. Hoping. Still believing he would come back to her before the darkness swallowed him whole. But for the first time, Genevieve was beginning to realize that loving Tom Riddle and saving him might not be the same thing.
A month passed, and the warmth that had briefly settled over the flat began to rot at the edges. Tom still came home. But never for long.
At first, Genevieve told herself it was temporary. He was finishing school, attending meetings, preparing for their future. She tried to ignore the growing silence between them, the way his eyes drifted elsewhere during conversations, the way he held the twins like someone terrified to become too attached. Then the nights grew longer. Sometimes he disappeared until dawn.
Other times he returned smelling faintly of damp stone and candle smoke, shadows lingering beneath his eyes. He would slip quietly into the nursery, stand over Apollo and Artemis with that same possessive intensity, then vanish again before Genevieve could ask where he had been.Â
And she was tired. Tired of excuses, tired of waiting. Tired of feeling like she was raising their children alone while Tom chased ghosts beneath Hogwarts. The final push came on a storm-heavy evening in late March.
Rain battered the windows violently while thunder rolled through the sky above London. Apollo had been crying for nearly an hour with a fever, his tiny face flushed red against Genevieveâs shoulder as she paced the sitting room anxiously. Artemis slept fitfully in her cradle nearby. Walburga had already gone home. Kreacher had done everything he could. And Tom still wasnât there.
Genevieveâs nerves felt scraped raw with exhaustion. Her hair clung messily around her face, and dark circles lingered beneath her eyes from weeks of sleepless nights. The clock struck midnight. Then one. Nothing.
Apollo whimpered weakly against her chest. Genevieve closed her eyes, fighting back tears. âI know, sweetheart,â she whispered shakily. âMamaâs here.â The fireplace suddenly flared green. Tom stepped through the flames, cloak damp from rain, dark curls disheveled from the storm outside.
For one brief second, relief flooded Genevieveâs chest so powerfully it nearly hurt. Then Apollo let out another weak cry. And something inside her snapped. Tom immediately noticed the feverish child in her arms, his expression tightening.
âWhat happened?â
Genevieve stared at him in disbelief. âWhat happened?â she repeated quietly.
Tom moved toward her quickly. âGenevieveââ
âHeâs been sick for hours.â
Tomâs face darkened as he reached for Apollo instinctively, but Genevieve stepped back before he could touch him. The movement stunned him.
âGenevieve.â
âNo.â Her voice shook. Not from fear. From anger. Real anger.
Tom stilled completely. Apollo whimpered softly against her shoulder.
Genevieve looked exhausted beyond words, but her eyes burned fiercely through the dim candlelight. âDo you know how many nights youâve missed this month?â she demanded quietly.
Tomâs jaw tightened. âI had responsibilitiesââ
âAnd I had YOUR CHILDREN.â The sharpness in her voice sliced cleanly through the room. Even Artemis stirred faintly in her crib.
Tom lowered his voice carefully. âKeep your voice down.â
Genevieve laughed bitterly. âOh, now youâre worried about waking them?â
âGenevieveââÂ
âNo.â Her eyes filled suddenly with tears she refused to let fall. âNo, Tom. You do not get to walk in here after disappearing for days and act like nothing is wrong.â Tomâs expression hardened instinctively, defense slipping into place.
âI am doing this for our family.â
âThat is your excuse for everything!â Thunder cracked violently outside. Apollo began crying harder.
Tom took another step forward. âGive him to me.â
Genevieve recoiled immediately. âNo.â The word hit him like a curse. Tom stared at her.
âYou think I would hurt him?â
âThatâs not what I said.â
âBut you thought of it.â
Genevieve swallowed hard, shifting Apollo gently in her arms. âI donât even know who you are lately.âSilence. Heavy. Dangerous.
Tomâs face became frighteningly unreadable. âI am trying to protect you.â
âBy abandoning us?â His eyes flashed.
âYou think this is abandonment?â His voice lowered dangerously. âEverything I am doing is to ensure no one can ever touch this family.â
âAnd what good is protecting a family youâre never actually with?â The words landed harder than any curse could have.
Tom looked genuinely wounded for half a second before anger buried it. âYou donât understand the dangers around us.â
âThen explain them to me!â
âI canât.â
âBecause you donât trust me!â
Tomâs control slipped slightly. âIt is because I am trying to keep you safe!â
Genevieve shook her head violently. âNo, Tom. Youâre trying to control everything because youâre terrified.â
His face went cold. âYou know nothing about fear.â
Genevieve stared at him in disbelief. âNothing about fear?â she whispered. âI live every single day terrified that one morning you simply wonât come back.â
Tom looked away sharply. And that silence told her everything. Her voice broke.
âWhere do you go?â
Tom said nothing.
âTell me the truth.â Still nothing.
Genevieveâs tears finally spilled over. âYou promised me things would change after the twins were born.â
Tomâs jaw clenched. âThey have.â
âNo,â she whispered painfully. âYouâve just gotten better at lying to me.â
The room went deathly still. Tomâs expression darkened instantly. âI do not lie to you.â
Genevieve laughed through tears. âYou disappear constantly. You wonât tell me where you go. You come home looking like someone I barely recognize anymore.â Her breathing became uneven. âSometimes when you look at the twins, you donât look happy, Tom.â
That finally made him flinch. âYou look afraid.â Tomâs composure cracked then. Because she was right.
âI am afraid,â he admitted harshly. The confession stunned her silent. Tom ran a hand through his hair violently, pacing away from her. âYou think I donât understand whatâs at stake?â His voice grew sharper with every word. âOne mistake. One enemy. One weaknessâand they die.â
âThey are BABIES, Tom!â
âAnd the world destroys innocent things every day!â His outburst echoed through the flat. Apollo started crying harder. Artemis woke instantly. Genevieve stared at him, shaken.
Tom froze too, breathing hard. Then slowlyâ Genevieve stepped backward toward the nursery door. Away from him.
Tom noticed immediately. His face paled slightly. âGenevieve.â
She shook her head. âNo.â Her voice was quiet now. Terrified. âI wonât let them grow up around this.â
Tomâs expression became dangerously still. âAround what?â
She looked directly into his eyes. âThis darkness.â The words hit harder than she intended. For the first time all evening, genuine hurt flickered openly across Tomâs face. But Genevieve kept going. âWhatever is happening to youâŠâ Her voice trembled. âI cannot fix it.â
Tom stared at her like she had struck him. Genevieve shifted Apollo carefully against her shoulder and moved toward Artemisâ crib. âUntil you tell me the truth,â she whispered shakily, âyou are not coming near me or the twins.â Complete silence. Even the storm outside seemed distant now. Tom looked at her for a very long time.
Then finallyââYouâre choosing fear over me.â
Genevieveâs face crumpled slightly. âNo,â she whispered. âIâm choosing them.â
Walburga arrived at the flat just after dusk, the sharp click of her heels echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. The moment she stepped inside, she felt the shift in the atmosphere. The warmth that once filled the small home had curdled into something brittle and exhausted.
Kreacher appeared instantly at her side. âMistress Walburga,â he croaked quietly, wringing his long fingers together. âMistress Genevieve has not eaten much today.â
Walburgaâs expression darkened. âAnd the children?â
âThe little masters are asleep.â Walburga nodded once before moving deeper into the flat. She found Genevieve sitting near the nursery window, Artemis sleeping against her chest while Apollo rested in the cradle beside her. The fire had burned low. Shadows stretched across the room. Genevieve looked pale and tired. Not merely exhausted from motherhood, but worn down in a deeper way.
Walburga slowed at the sight of her. âYou look dreadful.â
Genevieve gave a hollow laugh. âThat obvious?â
Walburga sat beside her carefully, smoothing her skirts. âYou sent word. What happened?â For a moment, Genevieve said nothing. Her fingers stroked absentmindedly through Artemisâ curls as her eyes fixed on the darkened fireplace. Then finally, âWe fought.â
Genevieve swallowed hard. âI told him not to come near the twins.â
Walburga studied her carefully. âTell me everything.â
Genevieve closed her eyes briefly, as if reliving it physically pained her.
âHe disappeared again,â she whispered. âDays this time. No letters. No explanations. Nothing.â Her voice cracked slightly. âApollo had a fever two nights ago and I sat awake alone praying it would break while Tom was Merlin knows where.â
Walburgaâs expression sharpened dangerously.
âAnd when he finally returnedâŠâ Genevieve laughed bitterly. âHe smelled like the Chamber.â
Walburga blinked. âThe Chamber of Secrets?â she asked slowly.
Genevieve nodded. âI knew immediately.â Her grip tightened around Artemis protectively. âThereâs this awful scent down there. Damp stone. Blood. Something rotten. It clings to him now.â
Walburga leaned back slowly, piecing things together. âThe rumors were true,â she murmured.
Genevieveâs eyes shimmered with restrained tears. âI asked him what mattered more than us.â Her voice dropped. âAnd do you know what he said?â
Walburga stayed silent.
âHe said he was doing this for our future.â The bitterness in her voice made even Walburga flinch. âIâm so tired of hearing that,â Genevieve whispered. âEvery horrible thing he does is somehow for us.â Her eyes drifted toward the nursery. âHe looked at those babies like they were the only good thing heâs ever made⊠and somehow that terrifies me more.â
Walburga watched her carefully. âBecause now heâs afraid to lose them,â Walburga said quietly.
Genevieve nodded once. âAnd fear makes Tom cruel.â The room fell silent again. Then softly, âI thought loving him would change him.â
Walburgaâs face softened just slightly. âOh, GenevieveâŠâ
âI really believed it,â she admitted shakily. âWhen the twins were born⊠when he held themâŠâ Tears slid down her cheeks now. âI thought maybe this would save him.â
Walburga reached over, gently taking Artemis before the baby woke from Genevieveâs trembling. But Genevieveâs next words came out broken. âYou cannot love darkness out of someone who keeps feeding it.â Walburga said nothing for a long time. Because there was nothing kind enough to say.
Far beneath Hogwarts, Tom stood before the Basilisk once more. The creature coiled endlessly through the flooded chamber, enormous yellow eyes fixed upon him. Tom barely noticed the cold anymore. The Chamber had become familiar. Comforting. A place untouched by weakness. Untouched by guilt.
Yet tonight, Genevieveâs words echoed through him no matter how deeply underground he buried himself. Donât touch them. The words struck harder than any curse. His hand trembled slightly against the stone sink. The Basilisk hissed softly. Tom lifted his gaze toward the massive serpent.
âThey are vulnerable,â he murmured quietly. âWeak. Mortal.â
The Basilisk shifted. Tomâs expression darkened. âI will not lose them.â His eyes drifted upward toward Slytherinâs carved face. Immortality no longer felt like ambition. It felt necessary. Because now there was something worth surviving for. And that terrified him more than anything.
The abandoned classroom buzzed quietly with tension as the Knights of Walpurgis gathered around Tom. Abraxas stood near the front alongside Rosier and Avery, exchanging wary glances as Tom paced before them.
âThere are powers beyond ordinary magic,â Tom said coolly. âPowers that separate rulers from followers. Wizards from gods.â The room remained utterly silent. Tomâs presence had changed over the past month. It was much sharper, colder. Something inhuman lurked beneath his calm now. Even Abraxas noticed it.
Then suddenly, the classroom doors exploded open with a deafening bang. Everyone jumped to their feet. Walburga Black strode inside like a storm wrapped in black velvet, wand already drawn.
Tom stopped immediately. His eyes narrowed. âLeave,â he ordered the others coldly. No one moved.
Walburgaâs gaze swept across the room with disgust. âPathetic little sycophants.â
âWalburga,â Tom said dangerously. âYou are interrupting something.â
âOh, am I?â she snapped. âWonderful.â The tension shifted instantly.
Abraxas looked between them nervously. Tomâs voice dropped lower. âYou are overstepping.â
Walburga laughed sharply. âOverstepping? You abandoned your wife and children to slither through pipes chasing dark magic!â The room froze.
Several Knights exchanged shocked looks. Tomâs expression darkened lethally.
âCareful.â
âNo,â Walburga hissed, stepping closer. âYou should be careful.â Her wand pointed directly at his chest now.
âYou think fatherhood excuses your obsession? That loving them somehow justifies becoming a monster?â
Tomâs jaw clenched. âYou know nothing about what Iâm doing.â
âI know Genevieve cried herself sick waiting for you.â The words hit. Hard.
Tom visibly stiffened. But his voice remained cold. âThis is between me and Genevieve.â
âNo,â Walburga shot back. âIt stopped being private the moment your children started suffering for your madness.â
Tomâs magic crackled suddenly through the room. The torches flickered violently. Several Knights backed away.
âShe turned them against me,â he said quietly. Walburga stared at him in disbelief.
âNo, Tom,â she whispered harshly. âYou did that yourself.â Then Tom moved first. A violent jet of red light burst from his wand. Walburga deflected instantly. The classroom erupted into chaos. Spells exploded against stone walls as the Knights scrambled backward. Desks shattered apart beneath curses.
âYou self-righteous hypocrite!â Tom snarled, firing another curse.
Walburga dodged sharply. âAt least I donât pretend my cruelty is love!â Her spell collided against his shield hard enough to crack the floor beneath him.
Tomâs control finally fractured. âYou think I wanted this?â he shouted. âYou think I know how to be a father?â
Walburgaâs face hardened. âThen you should have learned before having children!â
Tom unleashed another curse violently enough to send bookshelves collapsing sideways. Breathing hard, he glared at her with raw fury. âI am trying to protect them!â
âBy becoming the very thing Genevieve fears?!â The words struck like a blade.
Tom froze. Only for a second. But Walburga saw it. And softened slightly. âThat girl loves you more than you deserve,â she said quietly. âBut she is reaching her limit.â
Tomâs chest rose and fell unevenly. For onceâ he looked young again. Just a terrified boy desperate not to lose the only people who had ever loved him.
Walburga lowered her wand slowly. âIf you continue down this path,â she said softly, âyou will destroy the very family youâre trying to save.â Silence swallowed the room. Then she turned and walked out. Leaving Tom standing motionless among the wreckage.
The flat had become a fortress. Genevieve stood in the center of the sitting room, wand raised as golden threads of magic curled through the air like burning silk. Ancient protective enchantments wrapped around the walls one by one, sinking into the stone with soft pulses of light. âProtego Maxima.â The windows shimmered faintly. âMuffliato.â The rooms dulled into silence. âSalvio Hexia.â The final ward sealed itself around the home with a low hum that vibrated through the floorboards beneath her feet.
Genevieve lowered her wand slowly, breathing harder than she should have been. Since the argument with Tom, paranoia had rooted itself deep inside her chest. Every creak of the building made her uneasy. Every unfamiliar face on the street below sent fear crawling beneath her skin. Not for herself. For Apollo and Artemis.
The twins were asleep in the nursery, curled together beneath silver blankets enchanted to stay warm. Their tiny breaths rose and fell softly in the dim candlelight. Genevieve lingered by the doorway for a long moment. Apollo stirred faintly in his sleep, tiny fingers twitching. Her chest tightened painfully.
âThey deserve safety,â she whispered quietly. A safety she no longer trusted anyone else to provide. Not Grindelwald. Not Dumbledore. And latelyâŠnot even Tom. Kreacher appeared beside her with a soft crack. âMistress called?â
Genevieve turned toward him quickly. âI need to run errands into Diagon Alley. Iâll only be gone an hour.â The house-elf bowed immediately. âKreacher will guard the little masters with his life.â Genevieve knelt slightly before him, her voice lowering. âIf anyone comes hereâanyoneâyou do not open the wards. Not even for Tom unless I return first.â Kreacher blinked slowly. Then nodded.
âAs Mistress commands.â Genevieve hesitated only briefly before pulling her cloak tighter around herself and apparating away with a sharp crack.
Diagon Alley was crowded despite the cold. Witches bustled past with shopping bags while owls swooped overhead through the gray afternoon sky. Genevieve kept her hood drawn low as she moved quickly between apothecaries and magical shops, gathering potion ingredients, infant supplies, and fresh parchment. But unease followed her the entire time. Like someone watching. She caught glimpses of dark coats in reflections. A figure lingering too long outside Flourish and Blotts. Another near Knockturn Alley. By the time she finished, her pulse had begun to race.
Youâre paranoid, she told herself firmly. Still, her grip tightened around her wand beneath her cloak as she hurried toward the apparition point. The alley behind the shops was empty. Too empty. Genevieve stopped abruptly. The silence felt wrong. ThenââExpelliarmus!â A bolt of red light shot from the shadows. Genevieve barely ducked in time as her bags exploded apart beside her, potion bottles shattering violently across the cobblestones. Three masked wizards emerged from the darkness. Her stomach dropped instantly. Grindelwaldâs followers.
Genevieve backed away quickly, wand raised. âWhat do you want?â
One of them laughed coldly. âYouâve kept the master waiting long enough.â
A curse flew toward her. Genevieve deflected it sharply, sparks exploding through the alley. Another wizard lunged from the sideâ âStupefy!â
He crashed backward into the wall. But the third grabbed her arm violently before she could apparate. Pain shot through her wrist. âEnough.â The voice froze her blood instantly. Gellert Grindelwald stepped from the shadows. Elegant. Terrifying. His pale eyes burned with fury. The other wizards immediately stepped aside. Genevieveâs breathing became shallow.
âPopsââ
âDo not call me that right now.â The quietness in his voice terrified her more than shouting would have.
Grindelwald approached slowly. âYouâve ignored my letters.â
Genevieve swallowed hard. âI have children nowââ
âAnd I asked for information.â His gaze sharpened dangerously. âInstead, I hear nothing while Albus continues moving against me.â
Genevieve shook her head quickly. âI donât know anything useful anymore. He barely tells me anythingââ
âLiar.â
The word cracked through the alley. Genevieve flinched visibly. Grindelwald stared at her coldly, disappointment and anger twisting together beneath the surface. âI protected you.â He stepped closer. âI gave you homes. Resources. Safety.â
His expression darkened. âAnd now you test my patience.â
Before she could react, âCrucio.â Agony exploded through her body. Genevieve screamed. She collapsed onto the wet cobblestones instantly, every nerve in her body igniting in unbearable pain. Her fingers clawed helplessly against the ground as the curse ripped through her muscles. She could not breathe. Could not think. The world shifted towards pain. Her screams echoed through the alley.
âPleaseââ The curse lifted suddenly. Genevieve crumpled forward violently, gasping for air through sobs.
Grindelwald crouched beside her slowly. âYou disappoint me.â
Genevieve shook uncontrollably. âT-the twinsâŠâ she choked out. âPleaseâŠâ
Something flickered in Grindelwaldâs expression at the mention of the children. But it vanished quickly.
âYou will give me information on Albus Dumbledore,â he said quietly. âOr next time, your children will not grow up with a mother.â
Genevieveâs eyes widened in horror. âNoâŠâ
Grindelwald grabbed her jaw sharply, forcing her to look at him. âThis is your final warning.â Then slowly, he pressed the tip of his wand against her collarbone. Genevieve whimpered. A sharp slash of magic carved through her skin instantly. She cried out as burning pain seared across her shoulder, the mark glowing briefly like molten silver before settling into an angry scar. Tears streamed down her face.
Grindelwald stood. âRemember who you belong to.â Then he turned away.
Genevieve didnât wait. With shaking hands and blurred vision, she forced herself upright and apparated blindly.
She landed hard somewhere unfamiliar. Cold rain poured against her instantly. A forest. Dark. Empty. Genevieve collapsed to her knees, sobbing violently as her entire body shook from pain and terror. Her shoulder burned horribly beneath torn fabric. Her fatherâs words echoed over and over inside her skull. Your children will not grow up with a mother. A broken sound escaped her throat. She had to get home.Â
Hands trembling uncontrollably, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small enchanted key Walburga had given her months ago. The emergency portkey.
Genevieve clutched it desperately. âPleaseâŠâ The portkey activated instantly.
She crashed onto the flatâs floor moments later. The force knocked the breath from her lungs.
Kreacher appeared immediately with a horrified shriek. âMISTRESS!â
Genevieve tried to stand but collapsed again, sobs tearing from her chest uncontrollably now. The nursery door burst open from the noise. Apollo began crying instantly. Then Artemis. Their cries shattered what little composure Genevieve had left.
She curled inward on the floor, clutching at her bleeding shoulder as panic consumed her entirely. âKreacherââ
Her voice broke violently. âKreacher, lock the wardsâlock everythingââThe house-elf vanished instantly to obey. Genevieve dragged herself weakly toward the nursery doorway. Toward her children. Because in that momentâterrified, shaking, bleedingâthere was only one thought left inside her mind. He will never touch them.
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. Sixth Year Part II.
WARNINGS: Some warnings that this chapter has are themes of parental conflict and manipulation, emotional distress and loneliness, magical transformation, and mild violence in the form of dueling practice.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am backkkk! I also just graduated college yesterday and defended my undergraduate senior thesis, passing with distinction. Wow this past year and half has been insane. I hope you are excited for this chapter as I am :))
WORD COUNT: 11k
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Chapter Twenty-Three
A Journey to The Past: Sixth Year Part II
The Great Hall buzzed with quiet morning chatter, the clinking of silverware and the rustle of parchment mixing with the hum of student conversations from those who stayed during the break. Tom and Genevieve sat at the Slytherin table, a plate of breakfast spread before them. Genevieve was hunched over a piece of parchment, quill in hand, her face etched with worry and concentration. Tom watched her, his own breakfast untouched. Genevieve dipped her quill into the inkwell, her hand trembling slightly. She was writing a letter to her father, Gellert Grindelwald, responding to his demands in his previous letter. The memory of their encounter in the Forbidden Forest still haunted her, and she knew she had to tread carefully. She needed to keep herself, Tom, and their unborn child safe.
"Dear Pops," she wrote, the words flowing reluctantly from her quill. "I have considered your demands and will comply with your requests. I only ask that you leave Tom and our baby out of this. I will provide you with the information you seek, but I need your word that they will be safe. I hope you understand the position I am in. Best Regards, Genevieve."
Tom noticed the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders were hunched and her brow furrowed. He reached out and placed his hand over hers, stilling her quill. She looked up, her eyes meeting him. "Gen, you don't have to do this alone," Tom said softly, his voice filled with concern. "We'll find a way to keep all of us safe."
Genevieve managed a small smile, appreciating his support. "I know, Tom. But he won't stop. Not until he gets what he wants. I have to protect you and our baby."
Tom squeezed her hand gently. "We'll protect each other. Iâll protect all of us, I promise."
They finished their breakfast in silence, the weight of their situation hanging over them. Tom's presence was a comforting anchor for Genevieve, and she felt a flicker of hope in the midst of her fear. Once they had eaten, Tom suggested a walk around the grounds, hoping the fresh air would help clear their minds. As they strolled through the castle's vast grounds, the morning sun casting a warm glow over the landscape, Genevieve felt some of her tension ease. Tom held her hand, his grip firm and reassuring. They walked in silence for a while, each lost in their thoughts.
"Tom," Genevieve said after a while, her voice breaking the quiet. "Do you think we'll ever have a normal life? Away from all of this?"
Tom glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know, Gen. But we'll find a way eventually. We'll do whatever it takes to give our child a safe, happy life."
Genevieve nodded, her heart swelling with love and determination. "You're right. We will." As they continued their walk, they found themselves by the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the place where so much had changed for them. Genevieve shivered at the memory, but Tom's presence beside her gave her strength.
The grand halls of Malfoy Manor gleamed with the glittering decorations of the Yule season. Opulent chandeliers cast a warm glow over the assembled guests, their laughter and chatter mingling with the soft strains of classical music. Tom and Genevieve made their way through the crowd, Genevieveâs arm looped through Tomâs as they navigated the maze of conversations and social obligations.
Genevieve wore a fixed smile, her unease hidden behind a mask of politeness. She followed Tom as he greeted various influential guests, his charm and eloquence making him a favorite among the attendees. Despite her discomfort, Genevieve knew how important this networking was for Tom's ambitions. âTom, Genevieve,â Abraxas Malfoy approached with a welcoming smile, his blonde hair impeccably styled. âMy parents would like to meet you, Tom. Genevieve, may I borrow him for a moment?â
Genevieve hesitated but nodded. âOf course, go ahead. Iâll grab a drink.â
As Tom was led away, Genevieve made her way to the refreshment table, grateful for a moment to herself. She picked up a glass of water, taking a small sip as she glanced around the room. It wasnât long before she spotted Walburga Black, standing alone with a drink in hand, her eyes scanning the room with a look of mild disdain.
Genevieve made her way over, greeting Walburga with a nod. âHello, Walburga. Enjoying the party?â
Walburga smirked, her dark eyes glinting with amusement. âEnjoying? Not quite the word Iâd use. These events are dreadfully dull my dear. The only interesting part is seeing whoâs dressed the best, and thatâs hardly a challenge.â
Genevieve laughed, knowing Walburgaâs competitive streak when it came to fashion. âWell, you do look stunning, as always.â
âThank you, Gen. You look quite lovely yourself this evening,â Walburga replied, raising her glass in a mock toast. âSo, how are things with Tom?â
âThings are fine,â Genevieve replied, sensing there was more to Walburgaâs question. âWhy do you ask?â Walburga leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. âThereâs been some interesting gossip circulating. Apparently, Parkinson is desperate for Tom to break up with you. Sheâs even got her parents considering a betrothal. I take it she wants to steal your man.â
Genevieve couldnât help but smirk. âTom would rather jump off the Astronomy Tower than see let alone marry Parkinson. Trust me, she doesnât stand a chance.â Walburga chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. âItâs amusing, though, how desperate some people can be. Pureblood politics at its finest.â
Genevieve nodded, her smile genuine for the first time that evening. âIndeed. Itâs a game Iâm glad Tom and I donât have to play.â As they chatted, Genevieve felt a sense of camaraderie with Walburga, despite the latterâs typically aloof demeanor. It was a small comfort in the sea of unfamiliar faces and tedious conversations. After some time, Tom returned to Genevieveâs side, his expression relieved as he took her hand. âEverything alright?â he asked, his eyes searching hers.
Genevieve nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. âYes, Iâm fine. Just catching up with Walburga.â Tom nodded, his tension easing as they continued to make their way through the crowd, Genevieve by his side. Despite the eveningâs formalities, they found small moments of connection and support, drawing strength from each other as they navigated the complexities of their world.
The Great Hall buzzed with the usual post-Yule break energy, students sharing stories of their holidays and eagerly catching up with friends. Tom and Genevieve sat at the Slytherin table, plates filled with a sumptuous dinner. Tom noticed Genevieve picking at her food, a thoughtful expression on her face.
âWhatâs on your mind?â Tom asked, leaning in closer.
Genevieve looked up, her eyes meeting his. âI have to see Madam Pomfrey for a check-up tomorrow.â
Tom's brow furrowed with concern. âIs everything alright?â
Genevieve nodded. âYes, just a routine check-up. Itâs nothing to worry about.â
Tomâs expression softened, but he didnât let go of his concern. âIâll come with you.â
Genevieve shook her head. âYou donât have to, Tom. I can manage on my own.â
Tom, not budging, replied firmly, âI donât mind. Itâs my duty as the father, and I want to be there.â
Genevieve smiled at his determination, feeling a wave of affection for him. âAlright, you can come.âÂ
The next day, after their classes, Tom and Genevieve made their way to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey greeted them with a warm smile, ushering Genevieve to a bed for the check-up. âWell, letâs see how everything is going,â Madam Pomfrey said, waving her wand over Genevieve. A soft, glowing light emanated from the tip of her wand, bathing Genevieveâs stomach in a warm glow.
Tom stood by Genevieveâs side, holding her hand as they both watched Madam Pomfrey work. After a few moments, the matronâs eyes widened in surprise, a delighted smile spreading across her face. âCongratulations, Genevieve,â Madam Pomfrey said, her voice filled with excitement. âYouâre not just having one baby. Youâre having twins!â
Genevieveâs eyes widened in shock. âTwins?â
Madam Pomfrey nodded, her smile widening. âYes, a boy and a girl. Both are healthy and growing well.â
Tom squeezed Genevieveâs hand, his eyes filled with a mix of astonishment and joy. âTwins,â he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Genevieve felt a rush of emotions, tears of happiness welling up in her eyes. She turned to Tom, who was looking at her with a newfound sense of awe and love. âWeâre having twins,â she said, her voice trembling with emotion. Tom pulled her into a gentle embrace, resting his forehead against hers. âAstounding isnât it?,â he said, his voice filled with wonder.
Madam Pomfrey gave them a moment before speaking again. âYouâll need to take extra care, Genevieve. Make sure you get plenty of rest and follow all the instructions Iâve given you. If you need anything, donât hesitate to come to me.â
Genevieve nodded, her heart swelling with gratitude. âThank you, Madam Pomfrey.â As they left the hospital wing, Tom kept his arm around Genevieve, their steps in sync. The revelation of having twins had brought them even closer, a shared sense of responsibility and excitement filling the air between them.
Back in Tomâs room after the check-up, the atmosphere was filled with a mix of anticipation and contentment. They lay side by side on the bed, the soft glow of candlelight casting gentle shadows on the walls. Tom absentmindedly traced patterns on Genevieveâs arm, both of them lost in thought about the news they had just received.
âCan you believe it?â Genevieve finally broke the silence, her voice soft. âTwins.â
Tom smiled, turning to look at her. âI know. Itâs incredible.â
Genevieve sighed happily. âIâve been thinking about names,â she said, glancing at Tom to gauge his reaction.
Tomâs curiosity was piqued. âOh? What names do you have in mind?â
Genevieve smiled, her eyes sparkling. âI was thinking⊠Maybe we should name them after the twin gods and goddesses. You know, Apollo and Artemis.â
Tomâs face lit up with a grin. âApollo for our son,â he said, the name rolling off his tongue with a sense of certainty. âI like that. Strong, powerful⊠fitting.â
Genevieve nodded enthusiastically. âAnd Artemis for our daughter. The goddess of the hunt, the moon, and chastity. Independent and fierce.â
Tomâs smile softened, a look of admiration in his eyes. âApollo and Artemis,â he repeated, as if testing the names. âItâs perfect.â Genevieve reached out, intertwining her fingers with his. Tomâs expression grew serious, a hint of vulnerability showing through his usual composed demeanor. âI want to give them everything we didnât have, Gen. A real family. Love, security⊠a future without the shadows of our past.â
Genevieve squeezed his hand reassuringly. âWe will, Tom. Weâll create a life for them thatâs full of love and possibilities. Together.â
Tom nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. âTogether,â he echoed.
Genevieve shifted closer, resting her head on Tomâs shoulder. âDo you think theyâll be like us?â she asked quietly.
Tom looked thoughtful. âI hope theyâll be better,â he said. âStronger, wiser⊠but most importantly, I hope theyâll know theyâre loved. That they have parents who will always be there for them.â
Genevieve smiled, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. âThey will, Tom. They will.â
Over the next few weeks, Tom and Genevieve were inseparable. They spent every free moment together, studying in the library, walking around the grounds, and even sneaking into the kitchens for late-night snacks. The news of their twins had created an unbreakable bond between them, and they were determined to face everything together. Their close relationship did not go unnoticed. The members of the Knights of Walpurgis, particularly Abraxas Malfoy, grew increasingly confused and suspicious of Tom's absence from their meetings and his apparent neglect of their shared goals.
One evening, as Tom was heading back to his room to meet Genevieve, Abraxas intercepted him in a deserted corridor. Abraxasâs face was set in a mask of controlled anger and confusion. "Tom," Abraxas called, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "We need to talk."
Tom halted, his expression calm and composed. "What is it, Abraxas?"
Abraxas stepped closer, lowering his voice. "You've been distant. Ignoring meetings, not giving us direction. What's going on?"
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained his composure. "Are you questioning my leadership, Abraxas?"
Abraxas hesitated but pressed on. "We just want to know why you've been so preoccupied. The group is concerned. We haven't had a meeting in weeks, and we feel... abandoned."
Tom's gaze hardened. "You feel abandoned? Do you think I have nothing better to do than hold your hands through every little concern? I have more important matters to attend to."
Abraxas's face flushed with indignation, but he held his ground. "We are your followers, Tom. We deserve to know what's going on."
Tom stepped closer to Abraxas, his voice dangerously low. "You deserve nothing. You follow me because you believe in the vision I have laid out for us. You do not question me. You do not doubt me."
Abraxas's eyes flickered with a mix of anger and fear. "We just want to know when the next meeting is."
Tom smirked, his eyes cold. "The next meeting will be tomorrow night. And let this be a lesson to all of you. Questioning my leadership comes with consequences. You will all receive punishment for your lack of trust and faith."
Abraxas swallowed hard, nodding. "Understood."
Tom turned away, dismissing Abraxas with a flick of his hand. "Good. Now, leave me. I have more important matters to attend to."
As Tom continued on his way, his thoughts were already turning back to Genevieve. When he reached his room, he found her sitting on the bed, reading one of her textbooks. She looked up and smiled as he entered, her eyes bright with affection.
"Hey," she said softly. "Everything okay?"
Tom nodded, his stern expression softening as he approached her. "Just dealt with some insolent fools."
Genevieve set her book aside and stood, wrapping her arms around him. "Well, at least you can relax now."
Tom held her close, burying his face in her hair. "Thank you."
Genevieve closed her eyes and hummed. âYouâre welcome.â
Tom stood at the front of the abandoned classroom, his eyes sweeping over the assembled Knights of Walpurgis. The tension in the room was palpable; the members shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. He had summoned them for a meeting, and they knew they were about to face his wrath for their recent questioning of his leadership.
"Sit," Tom commanded, his voice cold and authoritative. The Knights quickly took their seats, their eyes fixed on Tom. Abraxas Malfoy sat near the front, his face a mask of apprehension. Tom let the silence stretch, building the tension even further.
"You have all disappointed me," Tom began, his voice calm but laced with menace. "You, who claim to be my loyal followers, have shown doubt and disloyalty. You question my absence, you question my decisions, and worst of all, you question my leadership." He paused, letting his words sink in. The room was deathly silent, the only sound the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
"I have been preoccupied with matters that are far more important than holding your hands through every minor inconvenience," Tom continued, his eyes narrowing. "I do not owe you explanations for my actions. You follow me because you believe in the vision I have laid out for us. That should be enough." Abraxas shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and Tom's gaze locked onto him. "Abraxas, you were the one who confronted me. Stand up."
Abraxas stood, his face pale. "Yes, Tom."
Tom stepped closer, his eyes boring into Abraxas. "You will receive the first punishment, as a lesson to the others."
Genevieve walked cautiously through the Forbidden Forest, her heart pounding in her chest. The shadows of the towering trees loomed ominously, but she pushed forward, knowing that her father, Gellert Grindelwald, was waiting for her. She finally reached the clearing where he stood, his imposing figure shrouded in darkness.
âPops,â she greeted, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. Gellert turned to face her, a cold smile spreading across his lips. âGenevieve, my dear. Itâs been too long.â
She nodded, taking a deep breath. âI have information for you.â
His eyes gleamed with interest. âGo on.â
âI overheard Albus talking about Credence. Heâs in contact with Newt Scamander to find him.â
Grindelwaldâs expression darkened. âDid Albus say anything else?â
Genevieve hesitated, then added, âHe didnât go into much detail, but itâs clear heâs desperate to find Credence.â
Gellert paced thoughtfully for a moment, then turned back to her. âYouâve done well, Genevieve. But I must ask, why are you telling me this now?â
She met his gaze, her resolve unwavering. âBecause I need you to swear to leave me, Tom, and our children alone if you want me to continue spying for you. I need your word, Pops.â
His eyes narrowed, but after a moment of consideration, he nodded. âVery well. I swear to ensure your protection, and that of Tom and your children. You have my word.â
Genevieve let out a breath she hadnât realized she was holding. âThank you.â
Gellert reached into his coat and pulled out a small, ornate key. âHere,â he said, handing it to her. âThis is the key to one of the Grindelwald family homes. You can live there over the summer. Iâll have rooms prepared for the arrival of your twins.â
She took the key, her fingers trembling slightly. âThank you, Pops.â
He stepped closer, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. âLay low from Albus. Heâs not to be underestimated.â
Genevieve nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. âI will.â
Gellert stepped back, his gaze piercing. âIâll be waiting for more information. Weâll reconvene when you have something new to report.â
Abraxas, who was still shaking from the curse that he had received, nodded. "Yes, my lord."
"Good," Tom said, his voice icy. "Let that be a reminder to all of you. Questioning my leadership comes with severe consequences."
He turned his gaze to the rest of the group. "The rest of you will also be punished. Each of you will write a detailed report on why loyalty and trust in leadership are crucial. I expect these reports on my desk by the end of the week. Fail to deliver, and you will face worse consequences than Abraxas." The Knights exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to speak. Tom's authority was absolute, and they knew better than to challenge him further.
"Do I make myself clear?" Tom demanded, his voice sharp.
"Yes," they chorused, their voices subdued.
Tom's expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained hard. "Good. Now, remember this lesson well. I do not tolerate disloyalty or doubt. You are here to follow me and execute my vision. Nothing more." With that, Tom turned and strode out of the room, leaving the Knights in a tense silence.Â
Genevieve knocked lightly on Tom's door, her heart racing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She hadn't seen him all day, and so much had happened that she couldn't wait to share with him. When Tom opened the door, his eyes lit up at the sight of her, and he stepped aside to let her in.
"Hello doll," he greeted her, his voice softening as he closed the door behind her.
""TomâŠthe twinsâthey started kicking as soon as you spoke to me. It was like they recognized your voice." Genevieve replied, her eyes shining with joy, smiling as she took in the familiar surroundings of Tom's room. It was a sanctuary for both of them, a place where they could escape the chaos of the outside world.
Tom's expression softened, and he sat down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her belly. "Really? That's amazing, Genevieve." He leaned in closer, his voice a tender whisper. Tom moved to place his hands over her belly, kneeling down in front of it, and whispered, âHello little ones.â
Genevieve's heart swelled with love as she watched Tom interact with their unborn children. She placed her hand over his, feeling the connection between them strengthen. "Itâs such a surreal moment. I feel like they were trying to tell me something, to remind me that we're all in this together."
Tom nodded, his eyes meeting hers with a deep sense of understanding. "We're a family, Genevieve. And we'll do whatever it takes to protect our children."
She smiled, feeling reassured by his words. "Speaking of protection, I had a rather intense encounter with my father today. Gellert found me and tried to convince me to stay at one of his safe houses. He gave me a key and everything." She pulled the small, ornate key from her pocket and showed it to Tom.
Tom's expression darkened slightly at the mention of Gellert. "Did he threaten you?"
Genevieve shook her head. "No, but he was very insistent. He thinks it's the best place for me to be safe, but I don't trust him. I don't want to be under his nose, constantly watched and manipulated."
Tom nodded, understanding her concerns. "I've been thinking about that too. We need a place where we can be truly safe, away from any potential threats. Walburga mentioned that she could help us find a secure location. She understands the importance of discretion and wouldn't mind assisting us."
Genevieve's eyes lit up with hope. "That sounds much better than relying on Gellert. I trust her more than my father when it comes to our safety."
Tom squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Then it's settled. I'll speak with Walburga and make the arrangements. We'll find a place where we can be safe and start our new life together."
Genevieve felt a weight lift off her shoulders, relief flooding through her. "Thank you, Tom. I feel so much better knowing we have a plan."
Tom smiled, his eyes warm with affection. "We're in this together, Genevieve. Always."
Genevieve leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. "How was your day? Where were you? I missed you."
Tom hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing his words. "I had classes, as usual. Potions with Slughorn was interesting, as always. And I have a Slug Club meeting tomorrow evening."
Genevieve raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Slug Club, huh? You're moving up in the world."
Tom chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Something like that. Slughorn likes to keep an eye on his favorite students."Â
Genevieve nodded, satisfied with his answer. "I'm glad you're doing well. You're going to be an amazing father, Tom. I just know it."
Tom wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "And you'll be an incredible mother, Genevieve. Our children are lucky to have you."
Genevieve's room was bathed in the soft glow of the evening sun as she sat by the window, gazing out at the grounds of Hogwarts. She was lost in thought when a gentle knock on the door pulled her back to reality.Â
"Come in," she called, turning her head to see Walburga Black stepping into the room.
"Genevieve," Walburga greeted with a warm smile. "I heard the news. Congratulations on the twins."
Genevieve smiled, feeling a rush of happiness. "Thank you, Walburga. It's been an overwhelming but wonderful experience so far."
Walburga crossed the room and took a seat on the edge of the bed, her eyes sparkling with genuine happiness for her friend. "I'm so happy for you. Twins, can you believe it? You and Tom are going to be amazing parents."
Genevieve laughed softly. "I still can't quite wrap my head around it. But thank you, Walburga. Your support means a lot to me."
Walburga reached out and squeezed Genevieve's hand. "Of course. You're like a sister to me, Gen. I want to help in any way I can."
Genevieve's heart warmed at the sincerity in Walburga's voice. "Actually, that's part of why I wanted to talk to you. Tom and I have been discussing where we can go to be safe. We need a place that's secure, but also close enough to the Ministry for Tom."
Walburga nodded thoughtfully. "There are a few options near the Black manor that could work. We could put the house under a Fidelius Charm to ensure your safety and privacy."
Genevieve felt a surge of relief. "That sounds perfect. Can you tell me more about the places you have in mind?"
Walburga leaned back slightly, considering. "Well, there's a flat on the edge of our street. It's small, but cozy, and it has its own garden. It's far enough from my home to give you privacy, but close enough that you can easily reach out if you need anything. It's also close to a couple of hidden pathways that can get you to the Ministry quickly and discreetly."
Genevieve nodded, picturing the cottage in her mind. "That sounds ideal. And with the Fidelus Charm, we'll be well-hidden."Â
Walburga smiled. "Exactly. And my family has always been good at keeping secrets."
Genevieve laughed softly. "Thank you, Walburga. You've been such a good friend to me. I don't know what I'd do without you.â
Walburga's expression softened, and she looked at Genevieve with a mixture of affection and concern. "Genevieve, you've always been there for me too. Remember when I was going through that rough patch with my family? You were the only one who understood, who didn't judge me."
Genevieve's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Of course I remember. We've always looked out for each other."
Walburga nodded, her voice gentle. "And we always will. I know things have been difficult, with everything going on. But you're strong, Genevieve. Stronger than you realize. And with Tom by your side, and the twins on the way, you'll find a way through this." Genevieve felt a tear slip down her cheek, and she brushed it away, smiling. "Thank you, Walburga. Your words mean so much to me."
Walburga wrapped her arm around Genevieve in a comforting hug. "We're family, Gen. And family sticks together. We'll get through this, and we'll make sure you and Tom and the twins have a safe and happy home." Genevieve hugged her back, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. "I know we will. With friends like you, how could we not?"
Tom Riddle smoothed the front of his robes, ensuring he looked impeccable as he made his way to Professor Slughorn's office for the evening's Slug Club meeting. The air was filled with the faint scent of polished wood and old parchment, a comforting ambiance that Tom had grown accustomed to during his time at Hogwarts.
Upon arriving at the office, Tom found the door ajar and the sound of cheerful chatter drifting out. He stepped inside, greeted by the sight of Professor Horace Slughorn bustling about, ensuring that everything was perfect for his prized guests. The room was adorned with opulent decorations, and a table laden with sumptuous food and drink stood at the center.
"Ah, Tom, my boy!" Slughorn called out, his face lighting up as he spotted Tom. "So glad you could make it. Come in, come in!"
Tom smiled politely, inclining his head. "Thank you, Professor. It's always a pleasure." Slughorn placed a hand on Tom's shoulder, guiding him further into the room. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Tom Riddle. One of the brightest students I've ever had the pleasure of teaching. Truly exceptional."
Tom's fellow students, a mix of current and former members of the Slug Club, turned their attention towards him, expressions ranging from admiration to curiosity. Tom felt the familiar surge of satisfaction that came with being in the spotlight. He knew how to play the part, how to charm and impress.
Slughorn continued, his voice brimming with pride. "Tom here has a brilliant future ahead of him. Mark my words, he'll go far. In fact, he's already made quite an impact. Tom, why don't you tell us about your latest achievements?"
Tom nodded, his expression humble but confident. "Thank you, Professor. I've been focusing on my studies in the field of Dark Arts and magical theory. Recently, I've been delving into some ancient texts that offer fascinating insights into advanced spellcraft." There were murmurs of appreciation from the crowd. Slughorn beamed. "See? I told you he was exceptional. And that's not allâTom's also been excelling in Potions. He's already surpassed most of his peers."
Tom acknowledged the praise with a modest smile. "I've been fortunate to have excellent teachers and access to some rare ingredients. It's been quite the journey." As the evening progressed, Slughorn made sure to keep Tom in the center of attention. He introduced him to influential alumni, showered him with compliments, and encouraged others to listen to Tom's insights on various topics. Tom navigated the conversations with ease, always knowing the right things to say, the right moments to interject, and the right people to impress.
As the meeting drew to a close and the guests began to disperse, Slughorn pulled Tom aside. "Tom, my boy, I'm so proud of you. You have a rare gift, and I have no doubt you'll achieve great things."
Tom inclined his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Professor. Your guidance has been invaluable."
Slughorn patted him on the back. "Nonsense, nonsense. It's your own brilliance shining through. But remember, Tom, it's not just about talentâit's about the connections you make, the people you surround yourself with. Keep that in mind as you move forward."
Tom nodded, his mind already calculating the next steps, the next moves in the intricate game of power and influence. "I will, Professor. Thank you for the advice." As Tom left Slughorn's office and walked through the quiet corridors of Hogwarts, he felt a sense of satisfaction. The evening had gone exactly as he had planned. He had secured the admiration and support of those who mattered, and he had reaffirmed his place at the top. But beneath the surface, Tom's mind was always working, always plotting. The future was wide open, and he intended to shape it according to his will. Slughorn's words echoed in his mindâconnections, people, influence. They were all tools, all pieces of the puzzle that would lead him to his ultimate goal.
And Tom Riddle was nothing if not a master at solving puzzles.
Genevieve sat at a large wooden table near the back, her books and notes spread out before her. She was engrossed in her studies, her brow furrowed in concentration, when she heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching. She looked up to see Tom heading towards her, carrying a few books under his arm and offered her a small smile.
âHello loveâ he said, his voice smooth and quiet.
She smiled back and whispered. âHey Tommy.â Tom sat down across from her, placing his books on the table. For a few moments, they both focused on their respective work, the silence between them comfortable and familiar. After a while, Tom glanced up, his gaze settling on Genevieve. âLove, Iâve been thinking a lot about the Slytherin bloodline lately,â he said, his tone casual but laced with curiosity. âI was hoping you might be able to tell me more about it.â
Genevieve looked up from her notes, her curiosity piqued. â Your bloodline? What do you want to know?â
 Tom leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with interest. âIâve heard some rumors about Salazar Slytherin and a monster from Abraxas and Theodore.â
Genevieve pondered for a moment before speaking. âWell, thereâs a lot of mystery surrounding Slytherin and his descendants,â Genevieve continued. âItâs said that he left behind a secret chamber within Hogwarts, known as the Chamber of Secrets. According to legend, it houses a creature that only his true heir can control. Slytherin supposedly created it to purge the school of Muggle-born students, whom he believed were unworthy of magical education.â
Tomâs eyes widened slightly. âDo you believe thereâs any truth to these legends?â
Genevieve shrugged. âItâs hard to say. But considering Slytherinâs affinity for snakes, many believe the creature to be a serpent of some kind. Perhaps a basilisk, given the rumors and the fear it instills.â
Tomâs interest was clearly piqued. âA basilisk... here at Hogwarts?â
Genevieve raised an eyebrow. âYouâre not planning to look for it are you? You know that while I understand you want to know about your family, thereâs darkness involved that could be dangerous.â
Tomâs expression was inscrutable. âIâve just been curious about the rumor. I promise I wonât look for it.â
Genevieve, face slightly relieved, asks Tom, âDo you promise me? Promise you wonât go looking for the Chamber.â
Tom replies to her, âI promise love.â
Genevieve hesitates for a moment, but then lets out a sigh and smiles. âThank you.â With that, she returned to her studies, her quill scratching against the parchment. Tom watched her for a moment longer, his mind clearly working through the information she had provided. Then, he too, returned to his books, the two of them falling into a companionable silence.
 Little did she know, however, that Tomâs curiosity was far gone, and he would set off to find the chamber and connect with his ancestral line. It was the only way for him to truly feel powerful that even Grindelwald wouldnât dare to mess with him nor his family. Tom would do anything that it took to protect his newfound family. A family that he had never once had and Merlin forgive him if anyone dared to touch or hurt Genevieve and the twins. He would raise hell on Earth if it was the last thing he could do. He had just to make sure she wouldnât catch him.
Over the next few weeks, Genevieve began to notice a change in Tom. His usual attentiveness and shared moments of study were becoming less frequent. He seemed preoccupied, often excusing himself for unexplained reasons, leaving her to wonder what was occupying his thoughts. While she knew that his academic responsibilities and the numerous Slug Club meetings could account for some of his absence, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more.
Genevieve decided to seek out Walburga for some much-needed guidance. They met in the dimly lit Slytherin common room, the flickering fire casting long shadows across the stone walls. "Walburga, can I talk to you for a moment?" Genevieve asked, her voice tinged with concern. Walburga, always perceptive, nodded and led her to a quieter corner. "Of course, Gen. What's on your mind?"
"It's Tom. He's been... distant lately. I know he's busy with his studies and the Slug Club, but it feels like there's something else. I'm worried," Genevieve admitted, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.Â
Walburga gave her a reassuring smile. "Tom is ambitious and driven, Gen. It's possible he's just caught up in his pursuits. But if you're concerned, maybe you should talk to him directly. Communication is key, especially now with everything that's happening."
Genevieve nodded, feeling slightly reassured. "You're right. I'll try to talk to him. I just hope it's nothing serious." Walburga placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure it will be fine. And remember, we're all here for you."Â
A few days later, Genevieve couldnât ignore the concern settling in her chest. One evening, as they sat in the common room, Genevieve set down her book and looked over at him.
"Tom, can we take a walk?" she asked gently, her eyes searching his. He hesitated for a moment but then nodded, rising to follow her.
They made their way to the Forbidden Forest, the cool air brushing against their skin as the moonlight filtered through the trees, painting silver patterns on the ground. Genevieve glanced sideways at Tom as they walked in silence.
After a few minutes, she spoke softly. "You've been distant lately. Is something wrong?"
Tom's steps slowed, and he glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "Thereâs been a lot on my mind. I didnât mean to worry you."
Genevieve stopped and turned to face him fully. "Tom, I understand if youâre dealing with something, but itâs hard not knowing whatâs keeping you so preoccupied. Iâm here for you, you know."
For a moment, Tom's gaze softened. He reached for her hands, his grip firm but gentle. "It's just school, and all the extra responsibilities. Iâve been overwhelmed with studying for exams and preparing for the future."
Genevieve's eyes narrowed slightly, her brow furrowing. "I know school can be stressful, but this feels different. You've handled pressure before without acting like this." She paused, her gaze sharpening. "Is there something you're not telling me, Tom? I can tell when you're holding back." Her voice softened slightly, but the weight of her concern lingered. "I'm here for you, but I need to know what's really going on."
Tom hesitated for a fraction of a second before letting out a quiet breath. He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled softly, though it didnât quite reach his eyes. "You worry too much," he said with a gentle laugh, pulling her close. "I promise, it's nothing more than exams. I just need to stay focused a little longer, and everything will be back to normal."
Genevieve relaxed slightly in his arms, her head resting against his chest. Tom pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his gaze drifting away into the shadows of the forest, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face before vanishing. Tom then led her a little further into the forest, where a secluded clearing awaited them. A blanket was spread out, and a small picnic lay waiting. Genevieve smiled as they sat down, the tension slightly still present, but slowly easing.
Genevieve spoke softly. "I've been thinking a lot about the twins. The due date is coming up soon, and Walburga's parents have offered to help. Their house-elf Kreacher could assist with the children while weâre in classes. Theyâre even willing to establish a Floo Flame connection from our room to the flat."
Tom listened carefully, nodding. "The Black family has been incredibly supportive. Weâll have everything we need to keep the children safe and cared for."
Genevieveâs expression shifted, worry flickering in her eyes. "But what about my father? I'm scared of what he might do."
Tom squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Genevieve, as long as I'm around, nothing will happen to us. I promise you, I will do everything in my power to protect you and our children."
For a moment, Tom's composed exterior cracked, revealing a rare vulnerability. "This is the first time I've ever felt like I belong somewhere. Like I'm wanted. I never thought Iâd be this close to having a family."
Genevieve reached up to gently touch his face. "You do belong, Tom. And you are wanted. We're in this together." Tomâs lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. In the moonlit clearing, they sat together, the weight of their worries lifting slightly as they found comfort in each otherâs presence.
A cool draft snaked through the ancient corridors beneath the castle, stirring the dust that had settled over centuries. Tomâs footsteps echoed softly against the stone as he pressed forward, wand raised, his pulse quickening. He traced his hand along the cold, damp wall, feeling the serpentine carvings that whispered secrets of the past.
"Open," Tom hissed in Parseltongue, and the wall before him groaned in response, parting slowly to reveal the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. His eyes gleamed in the dim light as he stepped inside, the vast underground cavern stretching out before him. The air was thick with age and magic, a place untouched by time.
He descended the steps cautiously, his heart hammering in his chest. At the far end of the chamber, the great stone face of Salazar Slytherin loomed, its features cold and imposing. Tom drew closer, his voice a low murmur in the ancient tongue. "Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four."
A deep rumble filled the chamber as the mouth of the statue opened. From the darkness slithered the Basilisk, its massive form coiling as it emerged. Its scales shimmered faintly in the torchlight, and the sound of its movements sent shivers down Tomâs spine. He met its gaze without fear, knowing the deadly power it held in those yellow eyes.
"You are magnificent," Tom whispered, reverence lacing his words. The Basilisk's eyes narrowed, sensing its masterâs intent. "Rest now. Your time will come soon enough."
Meanwhile, far above in the flat that the Black family had graciously provided, Genevieve hummed softly as she arranged the nursery. The crib sat by the window, draped with a silver canopy, and small enchanted mobiles spun lazily above it. Soft blue and green hues painted the walls, charmed to shift gently like the sea under moonlight. Kreacher scurried about, muttering to himself as he polished the silver frames on the mantel and straightened family portraits that now held places of honor.
Genevieve smiled softly as she smoothed out a blanket over the crib. "Thank you, Kreacher. I donât know what weâd do without your help."Â
The house-elf bowed deeply. "Mistress Genevieve is too kind. Kreacher serves, as Kreacher must. The little ones will be most fortunate to have Mistress and Master Tom."
She stepped back, surveying the room with a critical eye. A stack of neatly folded baby clothes sat on the dresser, while a collection of children's books rested on a low shelf within easy reach. Genevieve gently traced the edges of a silver rattle that Walburga had gifted, feeling the weight of the new life growing inside her. Each day, she made small adjustments, adding personal touches â a soft knitted blanket from her childhood, a carved music box that played a lullaby her mother once sang.
The fireplace crackled softly, bathing the room in a warm glow as Genevieve settled into a chair by the hearth. Absently, she rubbed her growing belly, feeling the faintest of movements beneath her hand. She imagined the twins sleeping peacefully in the crib, the room filled with quiet laughter and whispered lullabies.
Her mind drifted to Tom, wondering what occupied his thoughts lately. He had grown more distant, though he tried to hide it behind soft words and rare smiles. She trusted him, but there was something unsettling in the way his gaze lingered too long in the shadows.
A faint knock at the door pulled her from her reverie. Walburga Black stood at the entrance, elegant as ever. "I thought Iâd check in on you. How are things coming along?"
"Everything's almost ready," Genevieve said, gesturing around the room. "Itâs starting to feel like home. Thank you, Walburga. I canât tell you how much this means to us."
Walburga waved her hand dismissively but smiled. "Family takes care of its own. You and Tom will need the support once the little ones arrive."
Walburga stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the room approvingly. "Youâve done well here. A stable home is important. It will give Tom something to anchor him."
The air in the flat felt colder than usual as Genevieve paced by the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the mantel. Midnight. Tom was lateâagain. The soft pop of Kreacher appearing by the hearth startled her. "Mistress should rest. Master Tom is often late. This is nothing new."
Genevieve frowned. "Thatâs the problem, Kreacher. Itâs becoming too familiar." She turned away, her thoughts racing. Tom had barely spoken to her outside of classes, always disappearing and slipping away. She tried to ignore it, but the distance between them grew with each passing day.
The next morning, she caught up to Tom outside the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. "Tom," she called, catching his arm. "We need to talk." Tomâs eyes flickered with irritation but softened quickly. "Not now, Genevieve. I have something to attend to."Â
"You always have something to attend to," she pressed, lowering her voice as students passed. "Slug Club, meetings with people I don't even knowâI'm starting to wonder if youâre avoiding me."
Tom exhaled through his nose, glancing around. "Youâre overthinking things. I told you, I have been busy with studies and plans for us. Important ones. You need to trust me."Her brows furrowed. "Trust isnât the issue. Youâre hiding something."
Tom stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If I told you everything, you wouldnât understand."Genevieve stared at him, trying to read the distance in his eyes. Before she could respond, Tom brushed past her and disappeared down the corridor.
Later that evening, as she sat by the fire, a sharp knock echoed through the flat. The door creaked open, and Professor Dumbledore stepped inside, his blue eyes piercing through the warm glow of the room.
"Genevieve," he greeted, his tone calm but heavy. "We need to talk."
Genevieveâs heart sank. She gestured for him to sit, but Dumbledore remained standing. "Father, what is this about?" Dumbledoreâs gaze hardened. "I know youâve been corresponding with Gellert." Genevieveâs blood ran cold. Her lips parted, but no words came.
"Do not deny it," Dumbledore continued gently but firmly. "Iâve seen the letters. Heâs using you to gain information, Genevieve. Why are you doing this? I thought you didn't want to partake in our matters."
She swallowed, the weight of her fatherâs disappointment pressing on her chest. "I- I can't tell you...I'm sorry Father but it's not because I want to."
Dumbledoreâs eyes softened for a moment, but the sternness remained. "I understand my dear. But if he is threatening you, I need to know." Genevieve looked away, shame blooming across her face. "I justâŠI need to do this on my own."
Dumbledore approached, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I understand, but trust me when I say Grindelwaldâs redemption is not in your hands. You must step away from this." Genevieve nodded, though doubt lingered. As Dumbledore left, her gaze drifted to the clock once more. Tom was still not home
Down beneath the castle, Tom stood alone in the Chamber of Secrets, his fingers trailing over the carved stone. The Basilisk slithered in the shadows, waiting. Tomâs voice echoed softly in the chamber. "Soon. Weâre close now."And far above, Genevieve sat in silence, the fire crackling softly as the distance between them continued to grow.
The next morning, Genevieve made her way to the hospital wing alone, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. A dull ache settled in her chest â not from her pregnancy, but from the weight of Tomâs absence. She quietly approached Madame Pomfrey, who greeted her with a warm but curious expression.
"Ah, Miss Dumbledore. Is everything alright?"
Genevieve nodded faintly. "I just wanted to check on the twins⊠Iâve been feeling more tired lately."
Madam Pomfreyâs gaze lingered on her, concern evident. "Of course, dear. Come sit. Letâs take a look."
Genevieve eased onto one of the beds, and Madame Pomfrey performed a few quick spells, her wand glowing softly over Genevieveâs abdomen. "Youâre progressing well. But Iâd say youâll be due within the next few days. The babies seem eager to meet you."
Genevieveâs heart fluttered, but the joy was tinged with sadness. "Thatâs good to hear⊠I just wish Tom could be here to hear it."
Madame Pomfrey paused for a moment, then carefully lowered her wand. "I see. Has he been distant lately?"
Genevieve looked away, twisting her hands in her lap. "Yes. I barely see him outside of classes. Itâs like heâs always somewhere else. I know heâs busy, but⊠I thought this would bring us closer."
Madame Pomfrey sat beside her, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "Men can sometimes withdraw when they feel uncertain or overwhelmed. But you mustnât let yourself bear this alone, Genevieve. A pregnancy, especially with twins, is no small matter."
Genevieveâs eyes welled up. "I know he cares⊠but it feels like Iâm carrying this on my own."
Madame Pomfrey squeezed her hand gently. "Youâre stronger than you realize. And when the time comes, you wonât face it alone. Iâll be here, and so will those who care for you."
As Madame Pomfrey helped her sit up, her eyes softened again. "Is Tom not with you today?"
Genevieve lowered her gaze. "No⊠heâs busy. He has⊠other things."
Madame Pomfrey hesitated but nodded kindly. "Well, donât hesitate to call for me when the time comes. You wonât be alone."Genevieve offered a grateful smile, though as she left the hospital wing, the emptiness beside her felt heavier than ever.Â
The fire crackled softly in the flat, casting warm light across the sitting room. Genevieve sat in a cushioned armchair, one hand resting protectively over her stomach. Walburga Black sat nearby, knitting quietly, her sharp eyes flicking toward Genevieve every few moments.
"You should be resting more," Walburga said, her tone soft but insistent.
Genevieve let out a quiet sigh, gazing out the window at the moonlit sky. "I can't rest. Not when I feel like I'm doing this alone."
Walburga set her knitting aside and leaned forward. "Tom? He's still absent?"
Genevieve nodded, her eyes glistening. "I tried talking to him. He always brushes me off, Walburga. I barely see him outside of class. Even when I do, it's like he's somewhere else. I'm scared I'll be alone when the babies come."
Walburga frowned, her expression darkening. "You wonât be alone. Iâll be here, and so will Kreacher. Tom⊠Tom has his obsessions, but he will come around."
Genevieve swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "I don't know if he will. Heâs been secretive. I feel like heâs hiding something from me, something important. And my father⊠if he finds out Tom hasnât been here, heâll be furious. I canât handle that right now."
Walburga reached out, gently taking Genevieveâs hand. "Your father may be powerful, but he wonât touch you here. And as for Tom, I know he cares for you. Whatever heâs doing, he will regret not being here if he misses this."
Genevieve gave a weak smile, squeezing Walburgaâs hand. "Thank you. I donât know what Iâd do without you."
Before Walburga could respond, Genevieve shifted in her seat, a sudden sharp pain radiating through her abdomen. She grimaced, gripping the arm of the chair.
"Genevieve?" Walburgaâs eyes narrowed with concern.
Genevieve took a shaky breath. "I think⊠I think itâs starting."
Walburga shot to her feet, immediately moving toward the fireplace. "Iâll floo for Madam Pomfrey. Kreacher!"
With a soft pop, Kreacher appeared, bowing low. "Mistress calls Kreacher?"
"Find Tom. Now. Tell him Genevieve is about to give birth," Walburga ordered, her voice sharper than usual.
Kreacher glanced at Genevieve and vanished.
Deep beneath Hogwarts, Tom Riddle stood alone in the Chamber of Secrets, the faint hiss of the basilisk echoing through the stone walls. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he traced his fingers along the carvings of Salazar Slytherin. The power of the chamber wrapped around him like a shroud, but for the first time, it felt distant, hollow.
A strange unease prickled at the edges of his thoughts. He pushed it aside, ascending from the chamber and returning to the castle halls.
As he approached his room, the silence unsettled him. When he pushed the door open and found the space empty, a cold weight dropped in his chest. The room felt untouched, as if Genevieve had not been there for hours.
"Genevieve?"
Silence.
Tomâs jaw tightened, his pulse quickening. His mind, sharp and calculating, struggled to maintain composure. His hands curled into fists as shadows played against the stone walls.
With a crack, Kreacher appeared beside him. "Master Tom, you must come. Mistress Genevieve is giving birth. She is at the flat."
Tomâs heart lurched. Without hesitation, he swept past Kreacher, his strides long and urgent, practically running to the nearest floo connection.
Back at the flat, Genevieve clutched Walburgaâs hand, her breathing labored. Madam Pomfrey had just arrived, her wand at the ready.
"It wonât be long now, dear," Pomfrey reassured her, gently wiping Genevieveâs brow.
Genevieve groaned softly, tears forming at the edges of her eyes. "Where is he?"
Before Walburga could answer, the fireplace flared green, and Tom stepped through, his eyes locking onto Genevieve immediately.
"Iâm here," he said breathlessly, kneeling at her side.
Genevieve met his gaze, relief washing over her. "Youâre late."
Tom took her hand in his, his grip firm but trembling slightly. "I wonât leave you again."
As another contraction hit, Genevieve squeezed his hand tightly, her fear lessening just slightly as he remained by her side.
Hours passed, and the room felt like it held its breath. Tom rarely took his eyes off Genevieve, watching every movement, every pained expression. He had faced dark magic, controlled ancient creatures, but nothing had shaken him as much as seeing her vulnerable.
"Youâre doing well, Genevieve," Madam Pomfrey encouraged, carefully monitoring the twinsâ progress. "The first one is nearly here."
Genevieve gasped sharply, gripping Tomâs hand with all her strength. "Tom⊠I canâtâŠ"
"Yes, you can," Tom whispered, leaning close, his forehead brushing against hers. "Youâre stronger than anyone I know. You can do this."
Genevieve bit down a cry, pushing as Madam Pomfrey directed. A faint wail filled the room moments later.
"A girl," Pomfrey announced, swaddling the infant and handing her to Walburga, who smiled warmly. "One more to go."
Tomâs eyes shimmered as he glanced at the newborn, his mask of control briefly lifting. "Sheâs perfect."
Genevieve gave a weak smile but tensed again as the next contraction hit. Tom held her tightly as the second twin arrived, crying loudly.
"A boy," Pomfrey declared, handing the child carefully to Tom. For a moment, he stared down at the infant in his arms, something unfamiliar stirring in his chestâan emotion he couldnât name.
Genevieve, exhausted but relieved, leaned her head against Tomâs shoulder. "We did it."
Tom glanced at her, his usually guarded expression softening. "Yes. We did."
Madam Pomfrey busied herself tidying up, leaving the twins resting in their cradles. Genevieve watched them through half-lidded eyes, her body heavy with exhaustion.
Tom remained at her side, gently brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Sleep. Iâll stay here."
Genevieve smiled faintly. "You better." Her voice was barely above a whisper as she drifted into sleep, the sound of the twins' soft breathing filling the room.
The next morning, as the flat lay quiet, Walburga found Tom standing by the cradles, gazing at the twins with an unreadable expression.
"Theyâre beautiful, arenât they?" she said softly.
Tom didnât respond immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the infants. "I wonât let anything happen to them. Or Genevieve."
Walburga stepped closer, folding her arms. "You shouldnât have left her alone."
Tomâs jaw tightened. "I didnâtâ"
"You did," Walburga interrupted, her voice cold and calm. "She felt abandoned. I was the one wiping her tears, Tom. Not you. Where were you? What could possibly be so important that youâd leave her to face this alone?"
Tom's gaze hardened, though his voice remained level. "I had responsibilities, Walburga. Things you wouldnât understand."
Walburgaâs eyes narrowed. "Try me. What responsibilities outweigh being there for the mother of your children?"
Tom hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying, "I was ensuring our future. Genevieveâs and the twins'."
Walburga stepped closer, her eyes flashing. "Donât insult me with half-truths, Tom. I know you too well. This wasnât about the future. This was about youâyour obsessions, your ambitions. And she paid the price for it."
Tomâs expression flickered, but his eyes narrowed as he straightened his posture. "I wonât justify myself to you, Walburga. Genevieve understands more than you give her credit for."
Walburgaâs lips curled into a thin, dangerous smile. "Understand? Is that what you tell yourself at night when you choose secrets over her? I see the guilt in your eyes, Tom. You can deny it all you want, but you know you failed her."
Tomâs jaw tightened. "I didnât fail her. Iâm building something for usâfor the children. Sheâll see that in time."
"Time," Walburga snapped, stepping closer. "Time is exactly what she didnât have while she carried those twins alone, waiting for you to notice. Donât stand there and act like youâre noble."
His hand clenched at his side, but his voice remained calm, if cold. "You forget your place, Walburga. This isnât your concern."
"It is when she cries to me instead of you. It is when she fears giving birth alone." Walburgaâs tone cut through his defenses like a blade. "Donât hide behind your pride, Tom. You may be able to deceive others, but you canât fool me."
For a moment, the air between them felt sharp, tense. Tom held her gaze, but finally, his shoulders dropped slightly. "I should have been there. I know that."
"You know it," Walburga said softly, the steel still present in her voice. "But you need to show it. Prove it to herâbecause next time, she might not wait for you. And if she doesnât, I wonât blame her. Because if you hurt her again, Iâll make sure Genevieve understands she doesnât have to bear this alone. And sheâll realize that some of us will always stand by her, even when you wonât.""
Tom met her gaze, and for once, he didnât argue. "I understand. It wonât happen again."
Walburga nodded sharply. "Good. Because she deserves better. Remember that."
Genevieve stirred awake, the soft golden light of morning spilling gently through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. The flat was silent, save for the distant murmurs coming from the twinsâ room. She lay still for a moment, feeling the weight of her exhaustion, but curiosity and maternal instinct nudged her upright. Careful not to disturb the bundled infants nestled close by, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded softly toward the source of the voices.
As she approached the nursery, the murmuring grew clearer. Walburgaâs distinct, clipped tone drifted out, followed by Tomâs quieter, more measured voice. She paused just outside the door, watching them unnoticed for a moment. Tom stood near the crib, one hand resting lightly on its edge, his gaze fixed on the newborns. His expression, usually cold and guarded, had softened, and in that fleeting instant, Genevieve saw something rareâan unspoken tenderness.
Her voice gently broke the silence. "Is everything alright?"
Tomâs hand pulled back slightly as he turned toward her, his eyes unreadable once again. Walburga, however, offered a small reassuring smile. "Everythingâs fine, Genevieve. Theyâre sleeping peacefully. We were just watching over them."
Genevieve stepped into the room, brushing past Tom as she approached the cribs. Her fingers lightly grazed the edge of the crib, tracing delicate patterns along the wood. She leaned over, gazing down at the tiny faces nestled beneath soft blankets. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt the prick of tears behind her eyes. "I still canât believe theyâre finally here," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Walburgaâs sharpness from the previous night had mellowed, her expression softening. "Youâve done well, Genevieve. How are you feeling?"
Genevieve let out a quiet sigh, her fingers brushing lightly against the hand of the baby girl, who stirred faintly in her sleep. "Tiredâmore than I thought possible. But⊠happy. It feels like everything makes sense now."
Tomâs gaze lingered on her for a brief moment before he spoke. "You should rest more. Iâll stay with them."
Genevieve offered a small, hesitant smile and shook her head. "I will...but I want to be here with them."
Walburgaâs eyes gleamed with curiosity. " Genevieve, you need to rest more, you deserve it. I do have to ask, what are their names?"
Genevieveâs hand drifted to the infant boy beside his sister, her touch feather-light as she brushed his tiny curls. "Apollo and Artemis," she said softly, her voice laced with quiet conviction. "I wanted names that spoke of strength and protection. I want them to grow up knowing they were destined for greatness."
Walburga smiled, her arms folding over her chest as she glanced fondly at the twins. "A fitting choice for children of your bloodline. Theyâll carry those names with pride, no doubt."
Genevieveâs gaze didnât waver from the cribs, her heart swelling with a fierce yet quiet determination. "They deserve nothing less," she whispered, as if making a silent vow to the children before her. In that moment, the room felt warmerâfilled with the quiet promise of new beginnings.
Later that afternoon, Genevieve sat near the window, cradling Artemis in her arms while Apollo rested in the crib nearby. The soft cooing of the infant was the only sound in the flat as Kreacher busied himself in the kitchen, preparing dinner with quiet efficiency.
Genevieve gently guided a bottle to Artemisâ lips, watching as her daughter latched on eagerly. As she rocked the baby, her gaze drifted absently out the window, following the distant silhouette of Hogwartsâ towers against the fading light. Tom had returned to the castle earlier, determined to attend classes and collect notes for them both.
Yet, as the hours passed, Genevieve felt a growing weight settle in her chest. The flat felt larger, quieter without him.
"Mistress should eat," Kreacher muttered as he shuffled past, setting down a tray with warm stew and bread.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Genevieve replied softly, though she made no move to touch the food. Her thoughts lingered elsewhereâon Tomâs absence, on the increasing distance she felt between them.
She sighed quietly, shifting Artemis to her shoulder as she gently patted the baby's back. How could she reach him? Whenever she tried to bring up his long disappearances, Tom brushed her off with vague reassurances. His isolation weighed heavily on her, and despite Walburgaâs help, she feared facing the birth and now motherhood alone.
Her gaze drifted to the empty spot near the fireplace where Tom often sat when he was home. Tonight, it remained cold, untouched.
"I need to talk to him," Genevieve whispered, though she wasn't sure if the courage would come when he returned.
Tom sat in the back of Slughornâs classroom, barely paying attention to the professorâs lecture on advanced potion theory, which caused both his classmates and even Professor Slughorn to look over at him, puzzled, considering he would always sit at the front and be much more proactive in his participation. His quill scratched absently at the parchment, but the notes felt meaningless. His mind kept driftingâto the flat, to Genevieve, and to the twins he had barely spent time with.
He thought of Genevieveâs tired face, the quiet way she held herself whenever he returned from long absences. There had been joy in her eyes when the twins were born, but beneath it lingered something elseâsomething that haunted him.
His chest tightened at the memory of her soft voice asking where he had been. He could offer no real answer, not without unraveling the carefully constructed web he had spun. She deserved honesty, but the truth would drive a wedge between them he feared they could never bridge.
On top of that, he wasnât ready to be a father. Not truly. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, suffocating. He had spent years pursuing power, control, and legacy. Yet now, faced with something fragile and real, he felt powerless.
Tomâs eyes flickered to the window, where the sun dipped lower behind the towers. He needed to see her.
The lecture ended, and Tom gathered his books hastily, striding through the corridors with increasing urgency. He needed to return to the flat, to reassure himself she was alright.
Genevieve stirred at the sound of soft cries coming from the nursery. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she slid out of bed and wrapped her robe around her. As she padded quietly down the hall, the faint creak of the rocking chair reached her ears.
Peering into the nursery, she found Tom, his figure slightly hunched as he cradled Apollo in his arms. His movements were awkward but gentle, his gaze fixed on their sonâs small face, as if searching for an answer to calm him. Tomâs brows were furrowed with concentration, and he barely seemed to notice Genevieveâs presence until she stepped closer.
"Here, let me take him," Genevieve whispered, reaching out for Apollo. Tom hesitated for a brief moment before carefully handing the baby over. "Can you grab Artemis?"
Tom nodded, lifting Artemis from her crib with more ease than before, and followed Genevieve to the small kitchen. She worked swiftly, heating two bottles and handing one to Tom. Together, they fed the twins in silence, the soft sucking sounds of the babies filling the quiet flat.
As Apolloâs eyes began to droop, Genevieve shifted her gaze to Tom. His face was drawn, shadows lingering beneath his eyes. He hesitated, as if wrestling with unspoken words, before finally breaking the silence.
"Iâm sorry," Tom said softly, his voice barely audible. "For being away. For everything."
Genevieve met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Why, Tom?" she asked gently, but there was a quiet weight to her question. "What is more important that you had to take care of?"
Tom lowered his eyes to Artemis, gently adjusting the blanket around her tiny form. "There are responsibilities I've been juggling⊠things I thought mattered. But every time I walk through that door and see you and them, I realize how misplaced my priorities have been. Nothing matters more than this. Than you."
Genevieve said nothing for a long moment, but as the twins drifted to sleep, she simply nodded. "I hope you mean that."
Tom swallowed hard, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic vulnerability. "I do, Genevieve. I swear to you, Iâll make this right. You and the twins will be my priority from now on. I wonât leave you behind again. I canât⊠not when you mean everything to me."
Summary: The untold tragic love story of Tom Riddle and Genevieve A. D. Grindelwald and the quest of relinquishing darkness, in hopes, to not only save the wizarding world, but to reunite the most powerful family that destiny has ever seen.
The Prologue
Chapter One: The Scrapbook
Chapter Two: The Name
Chapter Three: The Manor
Chapter Four: The Hidden Message
Chapter Five: The Apartment
Chapter Six: Revival
Chapter Seven: Revelations Part I
Chapter Eight: Revelations Part II
Chapter Nine: An Alliance
Chapter Ten: Slytherin's Locket
Chapter Eleven: Hufflepuff's Cup
Chapter Twelve: Ravenclaw's Diadem
Chapter Thirteen: Nagini
Chapter Fourteen: The Ring and The Diary
Chapter Fifteen: Harry Potter
Chapter Sixteen: The Ritual
Chapter Seventeen: The Return of Tom Marvolo Riddle
Chapter Eighteen: A Journey to the Past: The First Year
Chapter Nineteen: A Journey to the Past: Third Year
Chapter Twenty: A Journey to the Past Part: Fifth Year
Chapter Twenty-One: A Journey to the Past: The Summer before Sixth Year
Chapter Twenty-Two: A Journey to the Past: Sixth Year Part I
Chapter Twenty-Three: A Journey to the Past: Sixth Year Part II
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. Sixth Year Part I.
WARNINGS: Some warnings that this chapter has are themes of parental conflict and manipulation, emotional distress and loneliness, intense emotional connection (alluding to intercourse), magical transformation, and mild violence in the form of dueling practice.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's a long chapter but buckle up :))))
WORD COUNT: 12.2k
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Chapter Twenty-Two
A Journey to The Past: Sixth Year Part I
The platform at Kingâs Cross Station was bustling with students and parents saying their goodbyes, the familiar scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express standing ready to depart. Genevieve stood near the entrance, scanning the crowd for Tom. She wore a deep emerald cloak, her hair pulled back into a loose braid, giving her an air of casual elegance. She felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of seeing him again, and the anticipation of their sixth year at Hogwarts.
"Genevieve!" a familiar voice called out. She turned to see Tom approaching, his dark eyes glinting with a rare hint of warmth. He moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he reached her.
"Tom," she greeted, her smile widening. "Ready for another year?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, his tone light. "Shall we find a compartment?" They navigated through the throng of students, eventually finding an empty compartment towards the back of the train. Tom stowed their luggage in the overhead racks while Genevieve settled into a seat by the window. Once everything was secure, Tom sat across from her, stretching out comfortably.
"So," Genevieve began, "what courses are you taking this year?" Tom leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Advanced Potions, naturally. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes. I've also added Arithmancy. What about you?"
"Pretty similar," she replied. "Advanced Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, and Ancient Runes too. I'm also taking Advanced Charms and focusing on some independent studies in magical creatures and advanced rune magic."
"Sounds like we'll be seeing a lot of each other," Tom noted, a teasing glint in his eye. "Try not to get sick of me."
Genevieve laughed softly. "As if that's possible. Besides, who else would put up with your brooding and ambitious plans?"
Tom's smirk deepened. "Who indeed?" The train lurched forward, and they watched as the station began to slip away. Genevieve turned back to Tom, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Speaking of brooding, you seemed rather cheerful today. Miss me over the summer?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps a little. Your letters were a welcome distraction from the dullness of the orphanage."
"Iâm glad to hear it," she said, leaning forward slightly. "I missed our conversations. And practicing spells alone isnât nearly as fun."
"Well, now that we're back, we can resume our dueling practices," Tom suggested. "I have a few new techniques I'd like to try."
"Oh, I'm sure you do," Genevieve teased. "Just try not to be too disheartened when I beat you."
Tom chuckled. "Confident as ever. I admire that about you, Genevieve. But we'll see who comes out on top." They continued to banter, the conversation flowing easily between them. They spoke of their ambitions, their plans for the year, and the challenges they expected to face. The tension of their secrets and shared confidences hung in the background, but for now, they allowed themselves to simply enjoy each other's company.
As the hours passed, the scenery outside the window changed from bustling cityscape to rolling countryside. The compartment grew quieter, more intimate. Genevieve leaned her head against the window, watching the world blur by, a contented smile on her face. Tom watched her for a moment, a rare softness in his eyes. "Itâs going to be an interesting year," he said quietly.Â
"Indeed it is," Genevieve agreed, turning to meet his gaze. "But as long as we face it together, I think weâll be just fine." Tom nodded, a silent promise passing between them.Â
The Great Hall buzzed with excitement as students filled the long tables, eager for the start of another school year at Hogwarts. The enchanted ceiling mirrored the clear night sky, twinkling with stars as the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin. Tom and Genevieve sat together at the Slytherin table, surrounded by their fellow housemates. The air was thick with anticipation and the smell of the delicious feast that awaited them.
Tom leaned closer to Genevieve, his voice low and teasing. "Ready to see which unfortunate souls get sorted into Gryffindor this year?"
Genevieve smirked, glancing up at the staff table where Dumbledore sat, his eyes twinkling as he surveyed the students. "I just hope there are a few with enough brains to be sorted into Slytherin. We could use some fresh talent."
Tom chuckled, his eyes following hers. "Talent or potential allies?"
"Both," she replied, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Though I suppose weâll have to see who can actually keep up with us." As Professor Dumbledore brought out the Sorting Hat, the hall fell silent. One by one, the new students were called up, the hat placed on their heads, and their fates decided by the magical relic. Tom and Genevieve watched with interest, occasionally exchanging amused glances and quiet comments.
"Think weâll get any decent ones this year?" Genevieve asked, her tone playful.
"Unlikely," Tom replied dryly. "But we can always hope."
When the Sorting Ceremony concluded and the tables filled with food, Tom turned his attention back to Genevieve. "So, about our study schedule," he began, spearing a piece of roast chicken with his fork. "We need to be more disciplined this year. Especially with the NEWTs coming up."
Genevieve nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "Agreed. Iâve already mapped out a preliminary schedule. Potions practice twice a week, Defense Against the Dark Arts every other day, and I thought we could dedicate Sundays to advanced rune magic and Occlumency."
Tom raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Youâve been busy."
"Well, someone has to keep us on track," she replied with a wink. "Besides, I want to make sure weâre both prepared. No distractions."
Tomâs expression softened slightly, a rare occurrence. "I appreciate it, Genevieve. Truly. And Iâll make sure we stick to it."
She smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through her. "Good. Weâll be unstoppable." They continued to eat, discussing their upcoming classes and the various professors. Tomâs eyes occasionally drifted to the head table, where Dumbledoreâs piercing gaze seemed to settle on them for just a moment too long.
"He always suspects something," She replied, her tone darkening slightly. "But as long as weâre careful, he wonât have anything concrete to act on."
Tom nodded, determined. "Then weâll just have to be smarter. Stay ahead of him."
Genevieveâs lips curved into a small, approving smile. "Exactly."
Tom and Genevieve walked through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the echoes of their footsteps the only sound breaking the silence of the castle. The feast had ended, and students were making their way to their respective common rooms, buzzing with excitement and exhaustion from the dayâs events. Tom and Genevieve were deep in conversation about their plans for the year when they rounded a corner and came face to face with Professor Dumbledore.
"Genevieve, a word, if you please," Dumbledore said, his voice gentle but firm. Genevieve's heart skipped a beat. She exchanged a quick, almost imperceptible glance with Tom, whose expression remained impassive but whose eyes flickered with curiosity and concern.
"Professor," Genevieve replied politely, "it's getting late, and we have classes tomorrow. Perhaps we can talk another time?" Dumbledoreâs eyes, twinkling with a mix of understanding and curiosity, studied her for a moment. "Of course. But do remember, my door is always open should you need to talk."
"Thank you, Professor," Genevieve said with a respectful nod. "Good night."
Dumbledore gave them both a slight nod before turning and walking away, his long robes swishing softly in the quiet corridor. Tom and Genevieve continued their journey to the Slytherin common room in silence, the tension between them palpable.
As soon as they entered the common room, the greenish glow from the lake outside casting eerie patterns on the walls, Tom turned to Genevieve. "What was that about?" he asked, his voice low and measured. Genevieve sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It doesnât matter, Tom. I just didnât want to talk to him right now."
Tomâs eyes narrowed slightly. "Genevieve, if thereâs something importantâ"Â
"Itâs nothing that canât wait," she interrupted, her tone a bit sharper than she intended. Softening, she continued, "I promise, itâs nothing you need to worry about. I just didnât want to deal with my father tonight."
Tom studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Very well. But if you need to talk, you know Iâm here."
Genevieve managed a small smile, appreciating his concern. "I know, Tom. Thank you." They stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. Finally, Genevieve broke the silence. "We should get some rest. We have a lot to do tomorrow."
Tom nodded in agreement. "Good night, Genevieve."
"Good night, Tom."
Tom and Genevieve sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall, the morning sun casting a golden glow through the enchanted ceiling. Breakfast was laid out in abundance, but Genevieve picked at her food, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
"Is something wrong?" Tom asked, glancing at her plate. "Youâre barely eating."
Genevieve sighed, pushing her scrambled eggs around with her fork. "Everything smells weird this morning. I canât explain it, but itâs making me nauseous."
Tom raised an eyebrow, a mix of concern and skepticism in his expression. "Are you sure youâre not just imagining it? The food smells fine to me."
Genevieve shook her head, looking a bit frustrated. "I know it sounds crazy, but itâs true."
Tomâs concern deepened. "Do you want to go to the infirmary? Maybe Madam Pomfrey can figure out whatâs going on."
"No," Genevieve said quickly, shaking her head again. "I donât want to miss classes already. Iâll be fine."
Tom hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Alright, but if you start feeling worse, promise me youâll go to the infirmary. Even if itâs during class."
"I promise," Genevieve replied, managing a small smile. "Thanks, Tom." They finished breakfast, Genevieve barely touching her food, and made their way to their first class of the day: Advanced Potions with Professor Slughorn.
The classroom was filled with the familiar scent of brewing potions as Slughorn greeted them cheerfully. "Good morning, class! Today, weâll be covering three very important potions: Draught of Living Death, Amortentia, and Liquid Luck."
He gestured to three cauldrons simmering at the front of the room. "Who can tell me which potion is which?"
Tomâs hand shot up. "The first one is the Draught of Living Death, the second is Amortentia, and the third is Liquid Luck."
"Excellent, my boy!" Slughorn beamed. "And what can you tell us about Amortentia?"
Tom explained, "Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in existence. It causes a powerful infatuation or obsession in the drinker. Itâs distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen and spiraling steam, and it smells different to each person, depending on what attracts them."
"Very good, very good!" Slughorn praised. "Now, letâs see how you all fare with brewing these potions."
As the students worked on their potions, Tom noticed Genevieve sneaking glances at the Amortentia cauldron. When Slughorn asked them to smell their potions, Genevieve leaned in, her eyes widening as she caught a familiar scent.
Tom, however, frowned slightly. "I canât smell anything," he muttered, his expression puzzled.
"Nothing at all?" Slughorn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Slughorn nodded thoughtfully. "Interesting. Well, excellent work on your potion, Mr. Riddle. And donât forget, the next Slug Club meeting is coming up soon. Be sure to let the other members know."
Class ended, and Genevieve waited outside for Tom. When he emerged, they headed to the library together.
"What did you smell in your Amortentia?" Genevieve asked curiously.
Tom glanced at her. "I couldnât really smell anything. Just a faint hint of vanilla, but nothing specific."
Genevieveâs expression faltered slightly, but she quickly masked her disappointment with a smile. "Interesting."
Tom, noticing the subtle change in her demeanor, frowned. "Is there something wrong?"
She shook her head, her smile brightening. "No, nothing at all. Just curious, thatâs all." Tom wasnât entirely convinced, but he let it go. They spent the rest of the day in the library, discussing their plans for the year and teasing each other about their classes. Despite the lingering questions, the companionship and comfort of each otherâs presence made the day pass more pleasantly.
The library was a haven of quiet, filled with the soft rustle of pages and the muted whispers of students deep in study. Tom and Genevieve had settled into their favorite corner, a secluded nook near the Potions section, books and parchment spread out before them. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the high windows, casting a warm glow over their work.
"I'm going to grab a book on advanced potion ingredients," Genevieve said, pushing back her chair. "Be right back."
Tom nodded, barely looking up from his own notes. Genevieve wandered through the aisles, running her fingers along the spines of the dusty tomes until she found the section she was looking for. She pulled out a book on Amortentia, her curiosity about Tom's inability to smell anything during their potion lesson gnawing at her.
She flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning the text. Suddenly, a passage caught her attention: "In rare cases, individuals who cannot detect any scent in Amortentia may be products of the potion themselves. The use of Amortentia for creating or enhancing individuals is strictly prohibited and illegal outside of academic study."
Genevieve's stomach churned. The words swam before her eyes, a cold dread settling in her chest. She clutched the book, feeling a wave of nausea wash over her. With a hurried glance around, she made her way to the bathroom, her mind racing.
In the bathroom, she barely made it to the sink before she retched, the acrid taste of bile burning her throat. She stood there for a moment, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady her breathing. The nausea subsided, and she rinsed her mouth, splashing cold water on her face.Â
After a moment, she felt well enough to leave the bathroom. As she opened the door, she was startled to find Tom standing there, his expression a mix of concern and impatience.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her.
Genevieve forced a smile, though her stomach still felt queasy. "Yes, I'm fine. Just needed a moment."
Tom didn't look convinced. "You should go to the infirmary. Itâs not normal to be feeling like this."
"I'm fine, really," Genevieve insisted, trying to sound reassuring. "I don't want to miss any more study time."
Tom sighed, clearly not happy with her dismissal but choosing to drop the subject for now. "Alright, but if you feel worse, Iâm taking you myself."
Genevieve nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of what she had read. "I promise." They returned to their corner in the library, but Genevieve's mind was elsewhere. The revelation from the book haunted her, casting a shadow over her thoughts. She glanced at Tom, wondering if he had any idea about the implications of what she had discovered. But for now, she decided to keep it to herself, unsure of what to do with this new, unsettling information.
As they resumed their studies, Genevieve couldn't shake the feeling of unease. The quiet of the library seemed more oppressive, the shadows deeper. She glanced at Tom again, feeling a pang of protectiveness mixed with fear. Whatever the truth was, she would find a way to uncover it. For now, she focused on the present, pushing her worries aside and immersing herself in the world of potions once more.
Tom and Genevieve quickly solidified their status as the top students in their year, their combined brilliance drawing the admiration and envy of their peers. They excelled in every subject, from Transfiguration to Defense Against the Dark Arts, but their true passion lay in Potions and the Dark Arts. Their competitive drive fueled their academic success, but it was their personal bond that kept them grounded amidst the whirlwind of school life.
Despite their busy schedules, Tom and Genevieve spent as much time together as possible, exploring each other's minds and hearts in the sanctuary of their shared sanctuary in the Forbidden Forest. They laughed, studied, and shared moments of vulnerability, learning about each otherâs hopes and fears. However, beneath the surface, secrets festered, threatening to unravel their relationship.
Tom's evenings were increasingly consumed by clandestine meetings with the Knights of Walpurgis. In the shadowy corners of the Room of Requirement deep within Hogwarts, he plotted and planned. His quest for immortality had not waned; instead, it had intensified. Nott had provided him with invaluable information about his father and grandfather, the mysterious and powerful Gaunt family. Tom was determined to visit them, convinced that uncovering his lineage would bring him closer to his ultimate goal. He praised his followers for their loyalty and diligence, their success in gathering such crucial information strengthening his resolve.
Meanwhile, Genevieve was struggling with her health. She often felt nauseous and lightheaded, but she stubbornly refused to go to the infirmary. Her stubbornness extended to her relationship with her fathers. She ignored Dumbledore's concerned letters, as well as the more cryptic and demanding missives from Gellert Grindelwald. The pressure from both sides was overwhelming, and she chose to bury herself in her studies and her time with Tom instead of confronting the growing tension in her life.
One evening, after an exhausting day of classes, Tom and Genevieve found themselves alone in the Slytherin common room. The fire crackled softly, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
"How are you feeling?" Tom asked, concern lacing his voice. He had noticed her growing pallor and the shadows under her eyes.
"I'm fine," Genevieve replied, her tone a little too brisk. "Just tired. Nothing to worry about."
Tom frowned but decided not to press the issue. Instead, he changed the subject. "I've been learning some interesting things lately."
Genevieve looked at him, curiosity piqued. "Oh? Like what?"
Tom leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I've found out more about my family. The Gaunts. I'm going to visit them. I need to know more, and I think they hold the key to my future."
Genevieve nodded slowly. "Be careful, Tom. There's a lot of power in that bloodline, but also a lot of madness."
Tom smirked. "I can handle it. Besides, it's a necessary step for my plans."
Genevieve sighed, feeling the weight of her own secrets pressing down on her. "I need to tell you something too," she said quietly. "I've been ignoring letters from my fathers. Both Dumbledore and Grindelwald. They each want me to do something for them, and I can't keep playing both sides. It's tearing me apart."
Tom reached out, taking her hand in his. "You have to do what's best for you, Genevieve. Don't let them control your life."
She squeezed his hand, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Tom. I'll figure it out. But for now, let's just focus on us."
Tom and Genevieve often sought refuge in the Forbidden Forest, away from prying eyes and the demands of their lives at Hogwarts. Tonight, the forest was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the moon casting silvery beams through the canopy of ancient trees. As they walked, Genevieve was visibly upset, her emotions simmering just below the surface.
"It's infuriating, Tom," Genevieve ranted, her voice quivering with anger. "He acts like he knows everything, like he can control every aspect of my life. I'm not his pawn. I'm not some tool to be used in his schemes."
Tom listened patiently, his brow furrowed. "What happened this time?" he asked softly, already knowing she was referring to Dumbledore.
"He wants me to spy on Gellert again," she spat out, her hands clenched into fists. "As if playing both sides isn't tearing me apart already. He doesn't understandâhe doesn't care about the toll it's taking on me."
Her frustration seemed to reach a boiling point. Her face turned an alarming shade of red, and Tom noticed her eyes starting to change, the pupils narrowing into slits. Before he could react, Genevieve's form began to shift and grow. In a matter of moments, she had transformed into her dragon form, scales glittering in the moonlight, a menacing but beautiful sight.
"Genevieve!" Tom shouted, but it was too late. She let out a roar, a sound that echoed through the forest and shook the trees. Fearful that she might lose control and cause chaos, Tom stepped forward, his mind racing. Remembering his gift, he spoke in Parseltongue, the hissing language flowing naturally from his lips.
"Genevieve, calm yourself. It's me. You need to relax. I'm here with you." The dragon's head snapped towards him, eyes narrowing. But his voice seemed to have an effect. Slowly, she lowered her massive head until her forehead was pressed against his. Tom could feel the warmth emanating from her scales.
Genevieve, still in dragon form, let out a soft grunt and gently lifted Tom with her claw, placing him on her back. Tom, startled, clung to her scales.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice tinged with both awe and trepidation. In response, Genevieve spread her wings and took off, her powerful strokes lifting them high above the treetops. Tom's initial fear subsided as he looked around, the wind rushing past him. Below, Hogwarts and the surrounding grounds were bathed in a gentle, ethereal glow. The view was breathtaking.
As they soared over the Black Lake, Genevieve dipped lower, skimming the surface of the water before climbing back into the sky. The thrill of the flight, the sheer freedom of it, brought a rare smile to Tom's face. He felt a surge of emotionsâexhilaration, wonder, and a deep sense of connection with Genevieve. Eventually, Genevieve circled back towards the Forbidden Forest and landed gracefully in their usual clearing. She gently set Tom down before shifting back into her human form. Her face was flushed, and she looked down, embarrassed.
"I'm so sorry, Tom," she began, but he stopped her with a gentle touch on her arm.
"You don't have to apologize," he said, his voice unusually soft. "That was... incredible. Thank you for sharing that with me."
Genevieve's eyes met his, a smile tugging at her lips. "You've always been there for me, Tom. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Tom, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable, allowed himself a small smile. "And I don't know what I'd do without you, Genevieve. You're... you're more important to me than anyone else." They stood there for a moment, the air between them filled with unspoken words and mutual understanding. For the first time in a long while, Tom felt a sense of peace, a flutter of something unfamiliar and warm in his chest. It was a moment of clarity, of pure connection, that he knew he would cherish.
The sun filtered through the windows of the Great Hall, casting a warm glow over the students gathered for breakfast. Tom and Genevieve sat at the Slytherin table, a comfortable camaraderie evident in their banter. Tom, always observant, noticed Genevieve's slight blush as he teased her about the previous night.
"I have to say, Genevieve, seeing you that mad was quite a sight," Tom said with a mischievous smirk. "Maybe you should get mad more often."
Genevieve, blushing even more, grumbled, "Shut up, Tom.â Tom chuckled, enjoying the rare moments when he could make her flustered. But his amusement quickly turned to concern as he saw her wince, her hand moving to her stomach.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his tone shifting to one of genuine worry.
Genevieve took a deep breath, trying to mask the pain. "I think I need to head to the infirmary. This pain⊠itâs too much."
Tom's eyes narrowed with concern. "I'll go with you."
Genevieve shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, Tom. You should get to class and take notes for both of us. I don't want you falling behind because of me."
Tom frowned, not liking the idea of leaving her alone. "I don't want to leave you alone when you're in pain."
Genevieve reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. "I'll be fine, Tom. I promise. I'll meet you right after the infirmary. Besides, you know I'm right. We can't afford to both be behind."
Tom sighed, knowing she was right but not liking it one bit. "Must you always win an argument?" he mumbled.
Genevieve laughed softly, despite the pain. "You know I do."
Tom squeezed her hand before letting go, a reluctant smile on his face. "Alright, I'll see you after class. But if you're not there, I'm coming to find you."
Genevieve nodded, appreciating his concern. "Deal."
As she stood up to leave, Tom watched her go, his worry evident in his eyes. Genevieve gave him one last reassuring smile before heading out of the Great Hall, her pace quickening as the pain intensified. Tom watched her until she disappeared from sight, then gathered his books and headed to class, his thoughts constantly drifting back to her. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease, but he knew Genevieve was strong and capable. He had to trust her judgment.
Tom sat in Ancient Rune Magic, the dim light of the classroom casting long shadows on the worn wooden desks. Professor Octavius lectured at the front, his voice a monotone drone as he detailed the intricacies of ancient symbols. Normally, Tom would be enthralled by the lesson, his quill dancing across the parchment as he absorbed every word. Today, however, his mind was elsewhere.
He glanced at the empty seat beside him, the absence of Genevieve a constant reminder of his unease. She was supposed to be here, her keen mind and quick wit always an asset in class discussions. Instead, she was in the infirmary, and the thought gnawed at him, breaking his concentration. Tom tried to refocus, forcing his eyes back to his notes. The pages blurred together, the runes losing their meaning as worry clouded his thoughts. He shifted in his seat, a tight knot of anxiety forming in his chest. He replayed the morning in his mind, Genevieve's pale face and the pain she couldn't hide.
"Mr. Riddle," Professor Octavius's voice cut through his reverie, sharp and expectant. "Perhaps you can enlighten us on the significance of the Elder Futhark in early spellwork?"
Tom's head snapped up, the professor's eyes boring into him. He straightened, his natural poise and confidence taking over despite his internal turmoil. "The Elder Futhark is significant due to its foundational role in ancient spellwork, particularly in the crafting of protective charms and divinatory practices. Its symbols are the basis for many modern runes used today."
Professor Octavius nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Correct. As you can see, the study of these ancient runes is crucial for understanding the evolution of our current magical practices."
Tom's answer had been automatic, a testament to his sharp intellect and extensive study, but it felt hollow. His mind immediately drifted back to Genevieve. He had to know if she was truly alright, if the pain had subsided. He felt a pang of guilt for not insisting on accompanying her. He managed to get through the rest of the class, though each minute felt like an hour. As the bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson, Tom gathered his things with uncharacteristic haste. He was usually one of the last to leave, often lingering to discuss topics with the professor, but today he had more pressing concerns.
Genevieve lay in the infirmary bed, her mind racing with the implications of what the matron had just told her. The past few weeks had been a blur of pain and nausea, the symptoms persisting despite her efforts to ignore them. Now, the matron was asking her a question she had never expected to hear.
"Genevieve," the matron began gently, "have you noticed if the nausea is all the time, or is it more pronounced at certain times of the day?"
Genevieve frowned, thinking back. "It's mostly in the mornings. I can barely stand the smell of food."
The matron nodded, her expression becoming more serious. "Have you been involved in any activity that could result in pregnancy?"
Genevieve's cheeks flushed crimson, and she lowered her eyes. "Yes," she admitted softly. The matron offered her a kind smile. "There's no need to be embarrassed, dear. Let's find out for sure." She reached for a vial of potion from a nearby shelf. "Take this. If the potion changes color, then it will confirm if you are pregnant."
Genevieve's heart pounded in her chest. She hadn't even realized that she had missed her time. Her hands shook slightly as she took the vial, the clear liquid inside glinting in the light. She drank half of the potion, as instructed, and handed the vial back to the matron.
"Now, we wait a few minutes," the matron said. "The remaining potion will turn color if you are pregnant."
As the minutes ticked by, Genevieve's mind swirled with thoughts. She hadn't prepared for this possibility, hadn't even considered it. She thought about Tom, his ambitions, and the life he envisioned. How would this change things? How would he react? The matron checked the vial, and Genevieve's stomach twisted with anxiety. She watched as the clear potion slowly began to change color. First, a faint tinge, then a more pronounced hue. Genevieve's breath caught in her throat. The potion had changed color. She was pregnant.
The matron turned to her, her eyes filled with understanding. "It looks like you are expecting, Genevieve. Congratulations dear."
Genevieve felt a wave of emotions crash over her: shock, fear, uncertainty. She barely registered the matron's next words.
"I'll give you these potions to help with the pain and nausea," the matron said, placing two small vials in her hands. "Take them as needed, and they'll ease your symptoms."
"Thank you," Genevieve managed to say, her voice trembling. She stood, feeling the weight of this new revelation pressing down on her. She needed time to process everything, to figure out how to tell Tom. She left the infirmary, clutching the potions tightly, and headed back to her room.
Once inside, she sank onto her bed, her mind racing. How was she going to tell Tom? She knew she had to, but the thought of his reaction filled her with dread. Would he be angry? Disappointed? She couldn't bear the thought of losing him, but she also couldn't keep this from him. Genevieve lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts. She needed to gather her courage, to face this head-on. She had to tell Tom the truth, no matter how difficult it might be.
For now, though, she needed to rest. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would bring some clarity, some sense of what to do next. As she drifted off, she clutched the potions the matron had given her, a reminder of the new life growing inside her and the new challenges that lay ahead.
Tom strode briskly through the corridors of Hogwarts, his mind occupied with thoughts of Genevieve. He had barely been able to focus on Ancient Runes, his thoughts continuously drifting to her. The unease in his stomach only grew as he approached the infirmary, hoping that Genevieve was feeling better.Â
Pushing open the infirmary doors, Tom quickly scanned the room, his eyes searching for her familiar form among the rows of beds. To his surprise and concern, she was nowhere to be seen. He approached the matron, who was busy tending to a student with a minor injury.
"Excuse me, Madam Pomfrey," Tom said, his voice steady but tinged with urgency. "I came to check on Genevieve. She was here earlier. Where is she?"
Madam Pomfrey looked up, recognizing Tom and giving him a reassuring smile. "Ah, yes. Miss Dumbledore was here earlier. She wasn't feeling well, but after some rest and a potion, she decided to return to her dormitory to rest more comfortably. She should be in her room now."
Tom nodded, a mix of relief and concern washing over him. "Thank you, Madam." He turned and made his way out of the infirmary, his pace quickening as he headed towards the Slytherin common room. As he navigated the familiar hallways, his mind raced with possibilities. What could be wrong with her? Why had she been feeling unwell for so long? He hated the thought of her suffering and not being able to do anything about it.
Finally, he reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Speaking the password, he stepped inside and immediately looked around, hoping to find Genevieve. The room was filled with students chatting and studying, but she was not among them. Tom headed towards the girls' dormitory entrance and waited, knowing he couldn't enter but hoping she would emerge soon.
After what felt like an eternity, the door opened, and one of Genevieve's roommates stepped out. She paused when she saw Tom, raising an eyebrow.
"Riddle, what are you doing here?" she asked, curious.
"I'm looking for Genevieve," he replied, his tone betraying his worry. "Is she in there?"
The girl nodded. "Yes, she's resting. She came back from the infirmary not too long ago. She looked quite pale."
Tom sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Thank you. Could you let her know I'm here?" The girl nodded again and slipped back inside the dormitory. Moments later, Genevieve appeared, looking tired but managing a small smile when she saw Tom.
"Hey," she said softly, approaching him.
"Hey," Tom replied, his eyes scanning her face for any sign of what was wrong. "I was worried. How are you feeling?"
Genevieve sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Better, I think. The matron gave me something for the nausea and pain. I'm just really tired."
Tom frowned, reaching out to take her hand. "You should rest more. If you need anything, just let me know."
Genevieve squeezed his hand, her smile more genuine this time. "Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it. I'll be fine, I promise. I just need some rest." Tom nodded, though he couldn't shake the worry that gnawed at him. "Alright. But if anything changes, or if you feel worse, promise me you'll go back to the infirmary."
"I promise," Genevieve replied, giving his hand another squeeze. "Now go on, get to class. I'll be alright." Reluctantly, Tom released her hand and turned to leave. "I'll check on you later," he said over his shoulder.
Genevieve watched him go, a small smile playing on her lips. Despite everything, she felt a warmth in her chest, knowing that Tom cared so deeply for her. She turned and headed back to her dormitory, determined to rest and regain her strength. There were still many challenges ahead, and she needed to be ready to face them.
The Great Hall buzzed with the lively chatter of students, the clinking of cutlery against plates, and the occasional burst of laughter. Tom and Genevieve sat at the Slytherin table, their plates laden with a variety of dishes. The flickering candles above cast a warm glow, adding a touch of enchantment to the evening. Tom watched Genevieve as she picked at her food, her face pale and her movements subdued. He couldn't shake the worry that had settled in his chest since earlier. Determined to get to the bottom of it, he leaned closer to her and asked quietly, "Was Madam Pomfrey able to figure out why you've been feeling ill?"
Genevieve froze for a moment, her fork hovering above her plate. She nodded slowly, her eyes not meeting him. "Yeah, she did," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She went quiet, the tension in her shoulders visible.
Tom's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her expression. "What was it?" he asked, his tone gentle but insistent.
Genevieve hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting a strand of her hair. "I'll tell you later," she said finally, glancing around the crowded hall. "When no one else is around." Tom nodded, sensing the gravity of her words. He couldn't help but feel a gnawing concern, but he respected her need for privacy. "Alright," he agreed, his voice steady. "We'll talk later."
They continued their dinner in relative silence, the unspoken tension lingering between them. Just as they were finishing their meals, Abraxas Malfoy approached their table, his presence commanding attention. With his immaculate blond hair and aristocratic demeanor, he exuded an air of confidence and superiority.
"Tom," Abraxas greeted with a nod, his tone formal yet familiar. "I wanted to extend an invitation to my family's annual Yule gathering. It would be an honor to have you attend."
Tom raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Thank you, Abraxas. I'll consider it," he replied, his voice smooth. As they spoke, Genevieve observed their interaction with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. She hadn't realized that Tom and Abraxas had grown so close. Abraxas's presence was usually reserved for a select few, and his offer to Tom was a testament to the growing influence Tom wielded among their peers.
Abraxas turned his attention to Genevieve, offering her a polite smile. "Genevieve," he greeted cordially. "I hope you're well."
Genevieve managed a small smile in return. "Thank you, Abraxas. I'm alright."
With a final nod, Abraxas excused himself, leaving Tom and Genevieve to their thoughts. Tom's gaze lingered on Genevieve, a flicker of concern in his eyes. "We should head to the common room," he suggested. "We can talk there."
Tom and Genevieve walked side by side, the soft hum of student chatter and the occasional clinking of cutlery from the Great Hall fading behind them. As they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Genevieve glanced around to ensure they were alone. With a flick of her wand, she cast a Muffliato charm, the spell ensuring their conversation would remain private.
Tom raised an eyebrow, sensing the seriousness of the situation. "What's going on, Genevieve?" he asked, his tone cautious.
Genevieve took a deep breath, her hands trembling slightly. "Madam Pomfrey found out why I've been feeling sick," she began, her voice shaky.
Tom's concern deepened, and he took a step closer to her. "What is it? What's wrong?"
Genevieve's eyes welled up with tears as she braced herself for the revelation. "Tom, I'm pregnant," she whispered, her voice breaking. For a moment, Tom was speechless, his mind reeling from the unexpected news. He stood frozen, his eyes searching hers for some hint that she might be joking, but he found only sincerity and fear.
Genevieve, seeing his silence, hurried to explain. "Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion to confirm it. It changed color, indicating I was pregnant. She said the nausea and the aversion to food are symptoms... I didn't realize it at first, but it all makes sense now."
Her tears began to fall freely, and she tried to wipe them away, her composure crumbling. "Tom, I don't know what to do," she sobbed. "I'm scared."
Tom's initial shock began to dissipate, replaced by a fierce determination. He reached out and pulled Genevieve into a tight embrace, holding her as she cried. "Hey, hey," he murmured softly, his hand gently stroking her hair. "Everything will be fine. We'll figure this out together."
Genevieve clung to him, finding comfort in his presence. "I don't know how we're going to manage this," she said, her voice muffled against his chest. "We still have school, and our futures... Everything is so uncertain."
Tom leaned back slightly, lifting her chin so she could look into his eyes. "Genevieve, listen to me," he said firmly. "We'll find a way. You're not alone in this. We'll make it work. Whatever it takes, we'll get through it together."
She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "But what about our ambitions, Tom? What about everything weâve worked for?"
Tom's expression softened, a rare vulnerability in his eyes. "None of that matters more than you and our child," he said quietly. "Our ambitions can wait. Right now, what's important is us, and making sure we're both okay."
Genevieve's tears began to subside, replaced by a sense of hope. She nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Thank you, Tom. I don't know what I'd do without you."
Tom returned her smile, though his own emotions were a whirlwind of fear and determination. "We'll be alright, Genevieve. We're stronger together than we are apart. And we'll face whatever challenges come our way, side by side."
She leaned into him once more, her head resting on his shoulder. "I love you, Tom," she whispered.
"I love you too, Genevieve," he replied, his voice filled with sincerity. "We'll make this work. I promise."
The morning sun streamed through the stained glass windows of the Great Hall, casting colorful patterns across the long wooden tables where students sat enjoying their breakfast. Tom and Genevieve sat together at the Slytherin table, their conversation peppered with moments of warmth and Tom's newfound overprotectiveness.
"I think I'll join the Advanced Potions class later," Genevieve said between bites of toast, her appetite finally returning after the potions Madam Pomfrey had given her. "I need to catch up on the latest brewing techniques Slughorn mentioned."
Tom nodded, his eyes never straying far from her. "Do you want me to walk you there?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
Genevieve smiled reassuringly. "Tom, I'll be fine. You don't have to worry so much," she said affectionately, patting his hand.
Just then, the soft flap of wings drew their attention to the arrival of Athena, Genevieve's owl. She dropped a letter neatly onto the table in front of Genevieve, who reached for it eagerly. The Ministry seal caught Tom's eye as Genevieve tore open the letter with a mix of anticipation and excitement.
"What's that?" Tom asked, leaning closer to see.
Genevieve's eyes scanned the letter quickly, her heart pounding with anticipation. A wide smile spread across her face as she read the contents. "Tom," she whispers, unable to contain her excitement, "I've been granted emancipation by the Ministry."
Tom's eyes widened in surprise and delight. "Really?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine happiness for her. "That's fantastic news, Genevieve!"
Genevieve couldn't help but laugh joyously, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "I know, it's incredible," she said, taking Tom's hand and leading him outside the Great Hall to a quieter corner of the castle.
She held up the letter for him to see, her smile bright and infectious. "No more being under my parents' thumb," she said, her voice tinged with relief and excitement. "I can finally make my own decisions, without their interference."
Tom gazed at her with admiration and pride. "Genevieve, I'm so happy for you," he said sincerely, pulling her into a tight hug. "You deserve this freedom."
Genevieve leaned into his embrace, feeling a rush of emotions. "Thank you, Tom," she murmured against his chest. "For everything." They stood there for a moment, enjoying the rare peace and happiness that seemed to surround them. For Genevieve, the path ahead seemed clearer now, filled with possibilities she had only dreamed of before. And for Tom, seeing Genevieve so happy filled him with a sense of contentment he hadn't known was possible.
As they finally pulled apart, Tom looked into Genevieve's eyes with a soft smile. "Let's celebrate," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Tonight, just the two of us."
Genevieve grinned, nodding eagerly. "I'd love that," she replied, her heart lighter than it had been in weeks.
Tom and Genevieve had become an unstoppable duo at Hogwarts, excelling in their studies and garnering praise from professors for their exemplary performance. They spent countless hours in the library, pouring over books, practicing spells, and perfecting their potions. It wasn't just their academic prowess that drew attention; their dedication and mutual support for each other were evident to everyone around them.
In the weeks leading up to the end-of-year exams, Tom and Genevieve were in high demand for study groups and tutoring sessions. Their classmates admired their diligence and often sought their advice on difficult topics. They seemed inseparable, sharing meals together, walking the corridors hand in hand, and stealing moments of laughter and conversation whenever they could.
One afternoon, Genevieve sat in her room, a mixture of pride and apprehension swirling in her mind as she looked at her growing bump. She carefully draped her transfigured cloak over herself, an illusion spell that hid her pregnancy from everyone but herself. It was a complex charm she had learned from an ancient runes book, and it required regular upkeep to maintain its effect.
As Genevieve adjusted the cloak, ensuring it concealed her condition seamlessly, she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. She knew she had to keep her pregnancy a secret, especially from Dumbledore and Gellert, who had been trying to reach out to her with increasing persistence. She avoided their attempts to talk, feigning busy schedules or rushing off before they could catch her alone.
Meanwhile, Tom was deep into his own secretive endeavors. He continued to meet with his followers, the Knights of Walpurgis, making plans and gathering information about his lineage. His determination to visit his family during the upcoming Yule break burned brighter than ever. With each passing day, he grew more focused and driven, the weight of his ambitions driving him forward.
One evening, Tom slipped away from the common room under the guise of studying in the library. Instead, he ventured deeper into the castle, where he knew a secluded spot to meet his followers. They gathered in the dimly lit room, their faces illuminated by flickering candlelight as they discussed their plans for the holiday break.
"I've learned more about my father and grandfather," Tom announced, his voice low but filled with authority. "We'll proceed with caution, but I intend to visit them during Yule break."
His followers nodded in agreement, their loyalty to Tom unwavering. They trusted his judgment and were ready to support him in whatever way they could. As they dispersed, Tom's mind was already calculating the next steps of his journey into the unknown.
Back in her room, Genevieve paced nervously. She knew she couldn't keep avoiding Dumbledore forever, but the thought of facing him and revealing her pregnancy filled her with dread. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her hands resting protectively on her belly.
"I'll have to tell him eventually," she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve. "But not yet. I need more time."
During the Yule break, Hogwarts was quieter than usual, with most students having gone home to spend time with their families. Tom and Genevieve found themselves with ample free time, which they eagerly used to explore the castle grounds and indulge in leisurely pursuits.
One frosty morning, Tom and Genevieve sat together by the Black Lake, wrapped in warm cloaks against the winter chill. The sun had just risen, casting a golden glow across the snowy landscape. They sipped hot cocoa from thermoses and watched as the lake shimmered in the early light.
"You know," Genevieve began, breaking the peaceful silence between them, "I think I'll head home today."
Tom turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "Home? Why today?"
Genevieve sighed, tracing patterns in the snow with her gloved finger. "I need to pack some things, and... well, I think it's time I told Dumbledore."
Tom nodded slowly, understanding the weight of her decision. "Are you sure you want to do it alone?"
Genevieve smiled gratefully at him. "I appreciate the offer, Tom, but this is something I need to do on my own. Besides, I'm sure he'll want to speak with me privately." They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, both lost in their own thoughts. Tom reached out and squeezed her hand gently, offering silent support. Genevieve leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort and strength in his presence.
After a while, they returned to the castle, walking hand in hand through the corridors. They passed deserted classrooms and quiet common rooms until they reached the entrance hall, where Genevieve hesitated.
"I'll see you later?" Tom asked softly, his eyes searching hers.
Genevieve nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, definitely. I won't be long." With one last squeeze of Tom's hand, Genevieve walked out of Hogwarts, the crisp winter air biting at her cheeks. She Apparated to her family home, a grand mansion tucked away in the countryside.
Tom Riddle stood in the dilapidated front yard of the Gaunt shack, he felt a mix of anticipation and unease. The bitter wind whipped around him, carrying with it the echoes of the past â a past filled with darkness and secrets that now confronted him head-on.
Morfin Gaunt, wild-eyed and disheveled, swung the door open with a creak. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Tom standing there, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he sneered, "What ya want, boy?"
"I'm here to see my grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt," Tom replied calmly, though he bristled at Morfin's contemptuous tone.
Morfin let out a harsh, grating laugh. "Oh, you're Merope's whelp, eh? Half Blood spawn," he spat, his lip curling in disdain. Before Tom could respond, the door behind Morfin swung open wider, and Marvolo Gaunt appeared in the doorway. His tall, stooped figure was clad in ragged robes, his piercing eyes fixed on Tom with suspicion and curiosity.
"What's this, Morfin?" Marvolo growled, his voice like gravel.
Morfin's smirk widened as he gestured mockingly toward Tom. "This 'ere's your grandson, Marvolo. Merope's bastard."
Marvolo's eyes narrowed as he regarded Tom. "What business do you have here, boy?" he demanded, his voice low and menacing.
Tom met Marvolo's gaze with cool composure. "I've come to speak with you, grandfather. May I have a few moments of your time?"
Marvolo hesitated, then with a grunt, he stepped back and gestured for Tom to enter. "Fine. But make it quick." Tom stepped inside the cramped, dimly lit interior of the shack, where the air was thick with the smell of decay and neglect. He glanced around briefly before turning his attention back to Marvolo.
"I want to know about my mother, Merope," Tom stated bluntly, cutting to the heart of the matter.
Marvolo's expression darkened, and a bitter sneer twisted his features. "Your mother was a traitor," he spat venomously. "She used a potion â Amortentia â to ensnare a Muggle and make him love her. Then she married him, thinking she could breed pureblood heirs for the Gaunt line. But he never loved her, even after the potion wore off." Morfin let out another rough chuckle from the corner of the room, his eyes glinting with malice.
Tom listened intently, his jaw tightening. He had suspected as much, but hearing the words spoken aloud still stung. "And my father?" he pressed, his voice steady despite the tumult of emotions within him.
Marvolo's gaze turned cold. "Your father is a filthy Muggle â that filthy man who cared nothing for you and that blood traitor of a daughter. He abandoned Merope when he discovered she was pregnant with you."
Tom's hand clenched into a fist at his side, but he remained composed. "I see," he said softly.
Marvolo sneered at him. "You'll never be a true Gaunt, boy. Half Bloods like you are a stain on our noble bloodline."
Tom's eyes flashed dangerously. "I have no desire to be a part of the Gaunt family," he replied icily, drawing his wand swiftly. Before Marvolo could react, a flash of green light burst from Tom's wand, striking Marvolo squarely in the chest. Marvolo Gaunt crumpled to the floor without a sound, his eyes wide with shock. Morfin, looking at Tom, shocked with a hint of fear in his eyes. Morfin tried to run, but Tom, still filled with adrenaline and anger, without thinking, pointed his wand at him and said, âObliviate.â Tom, then saw Morfin, knocked out, and altered his lost memory for Morfin to think he killed Marvolo.Â
Tom stared down at his grandfather's lifeless body, his chest heaving with a mixture of adrenaline and dread. What had he just done? Panicked thoughts raced through his mind, but amidst the chaos, he noticed something glinting on the floor near Marvolo's outstretched hand â the Gaunt family ring. Tom hesitated only for a moment before bending down to snatch it up, tucking it into his pocket along with Marvolo's wand.
Genevieve's voice trembled with emotion, âI can't do this anymore, Father. I can't keep being your pawn in this game with Pops.â
Genevieve interrupted him, irritated, âNo, you don't understand! I'm tired of being caught in the middle of your feud. I'm tired of being used as a tool instead of being your daughter.âÂ
Dumbledore spoke softly, âGenevieve, you know I care for you deeply. But I cannot allow you to endanger yourself any further.â
Genevieve's resolve hardened. âI've made up my mind. I've received emancipation from both you and Gellert. I'm leaving. I just canât do this anymore. I will not be your pawn any longer.âÂ
Silence hung heavy in the air as Dumbledore absorbed Genevieve's words, his expression a mix of sorrow, resignation, and disappointment.
Dumbledore finally said, âWell, that is rather disappointing. I thought it would take you another year, at the very least. I must admit Iâm going to rather miss having you around the manor.â
Genevieve rolled her eyes. âNo, donât do that. Itâs not going to make me stay with you. Iâll be staying with Tom, someone whoâs actually cared for me.â
âBut why do you want to leave? Iâve only ever done whatâs best for you. Iâve only ever cared for you.â
âYou say you care for me, yet Tom Riddle, whom you made out to be evil, has loved me more than you or Pops could ever have. True unconditional love.â
âHe has manipulated you, child! I know this because I know his tricks⊠heâs not to be trusted.â
âYou say that as if you havenât manipulated me either!â she exclaimed angrily. âYou may have given me shelter, education, and kindness, but all of that was just to keep me naive about your true intentions. Iâm not just some soldier you get to order around.â
âMy intention was never to make you a tool, Genevieve, it was simply to ensure that my plans go unhindered. I am working towards the greater good. I wish I did not have to keep these secrets from you, but I know it must be done. But now, to know that you have allowed yourself to be manipulated by Tom, who may I ask is he to you if not just another pawn in this great game of chess?â Dumbledore tried to reason.
âOf course, the greater good,â she scoffed. âAnd yet you are the one in charge of this great chess game, using all of us in the palm of your hands. Well, Iâm no longer letting you do that.â
âPlease. You donât know whatâs at stake here. But tell me⊠what do you think about this version of Tomof yours? Do you feel he truly loves you?â
She stared straight into his eyes. âHe does.â
Dumbledore pierced back at her. âYou believe it? Heâs not using you, as he has done to so many others? That he loves you? Truly and completely?â
âHe loves me, for me. He has finally let himself deserve to feel love.â
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in disbelief. âYou truly believe it. That he loves you. That you have won his heart. That he has not been deceiving you all this while?â
Genevieve straightened her back. âI do believe it. Iâm not stupid.â
âNo, I suppose youâre not. Youâre clever. Like Tom. And like me.â He paused. âAre you truly prepared to leave? Leave this life, your childhood, everything youâve known?⊠I know this isnât going to stop you, but surely you must understand the consequences of your actions?â he asked with a concerned tone.
She sighed. âYes, Iâve thought this through.â She said sadly, âI just canât deal with this anymore. The back and forth, having to choose between you or Father Gellert. To feel disappointment every day⊠from the fact that you both donât look at me as your daughter⊠I-I just canât.â
He sighed sadly. âYes. Perhaps itâs time I let you go, to find your own path. And youâre right, that was one of my biggest mistakes â not treating you as a daughter. Iâm so sorry that I never understood that that is what you wanted and needed the most. But I hope⊠I hope when your mindâs settled, we can reconcile. For you have always been special to me.âÂ
Genevieve sighed back. âFather⊠I hope you know that I donât hate you⊠I just donât want to keep breaking my heart in hopes that one day, youâll be there when I need you⊠maybe one day⊠we can reconcile, but right now⊠I donât think I can.â
âYes⊠yes, I understand. Can I ask you one last thing?â
Genevieve took in a breath, exhausted. âYes, Father.â
âDo you remember the secret I told you?â
âI do.â
âCan you promise me one last thing⊠for old time's sake?â he asked seriously.
She took a deep breath. âWhatâs the promise?â
âYou will not tell anyone. Under any circumstances. Will you promise me that?â
Genevieve contemplated until she decided, âI promise, Father. No one else will ever know.â
âThank you, child. Now, go ahead and collect your things from your room. The manorâs house elves will help you pack. I will miss you.â
She smiled solemnly. âI will miss you as well⊠Goodbye, Father.â
Tom arrived at the quaint, ivy-covered house of his paternal grandparents, still in shock from what had happened in the Gaunt House. He honestly didnât know why he didnât just head back to Hogwarts. The thought of being rejected again would send him into a spiral. The Riddle house was modest but exuded a warmth that Tom found oddly comforting. He approached the front door, his heart pounding in his chest. He knocked on the door, and a few moments later, it creaked open to reveal an elderly woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile.Â
"Hello, dear. How can I help you?" she asked.
Tom hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Hello, I'm Tom Riddle. I'm looking for my father. Is he home?"
The woman's eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Tom Riddle? Oh, my, please come in. I'm Mary Riddle, your grandmother. This is your grandfather, Thomas Riddle."
Thomas Riddle, an elderly man with a stern yet warm demeanor, appeared behind Mary. He extended a hand to Tom, who shook it firmly.
"Nice to meet you, Tom," Thomas said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Come in, come in."
Tom entered the cozy living room, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He had never known this kind of familial warmth before. Mary ushered him to a seat and offered him a cup of tea, which he accepted gratefully.
"So, what brings you here, Tom?" Mary asked, her eyes filled with curiosity.
"I... I wanted to know about my father. Tom Riddle Sr.," Tom said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Thomas and Mary exchanged a worried glance before Thomas spoke. "Your father... he's not an easy man to talk about. He should be here soon; he usually comes by around this time." As if on cue, the front door opened, and a tall, imposing man walked in. His sharp features and cold eyes immediately identified him as Tom Riddle Sr. He froze when he saw the young man sitting in his parents' living room.
"Who is this?" he demanded, his voice icy.
"Tom, this is your son," Mary said softly.
Tom Riddle Sr.'s expression darkened. "My son? You mean that blasted witchâs spawn?â
Tom stood up, meeting his father's gaze with a mixture of defiance and pain. "Donât call her that."
Tom Riddle Sr. sneered. "You think you can waltz in here and claim a place in this family? You are a mistake. A product of trickery and deception. You will never be my son."
Mary gasped, tears welling up in her eyes. "Tom, please. He's your flesh and blood."
Thomas Riddle put a comforting hand on his wife's shoulder but kept his eyes on his son. "Sheâs right, you know. You can't deny his existence."
Tom Riddle Sr. turned to his parents, his face contorted with rage. "I will not have him in my house. He is not welcome here. Leave," he said, glaring at young Tom.
Tom felt a surge of anger and hurt but managed to keep his voice calm. "I didn't come here to be welcomed. I came here for answers. If you won't give them to me, then I'll find them myself."
Tom turned to leave, his heart heavy with disappointment. As he reached the door, Mary called out to him.
"Tom, wait." She hurried over and pressed a small, old photograph into his hand. It was a picture of a young woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile. "That's your mother, Merope. She loved you very much. Don't let anyone make you feel like you don't belong."
Tom nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Thank you. I'll remember that." With one last glance at the family he never truly had, Tom left the house.
Genevieve sat curled up in Tom's room, a book resting on her lap. She had been trying to distract herself from the emotional turmoil of her encounter with Dumbledore back home, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the conversation. The room was dimly lit by a single lamp, casting soft shadows on the walls. She glanced at the clock; Tom should have been back by now.
When the door finally opened, Tom walked in, his face pale and eyes wild. He looked cold and distant, but also frantic, as if something terrible had happened. He moved to take off his tie and clothes, but his hands were trembling, and the tie wouldn't budge. Frustration etched itself across his features.
Genevieve closed her book and stood up, concern evident in her eyes. "Tom, are you okay?" she asked softly, taking a tentative step towards him.
"I'm fine," Tom snapped, not meeting her gaze.
Genevieve didn't believe him. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands shook as he fumbled with his tie. "Tom, please, talk to me. What happened?"
Tom's frustration boiled over. "I said I'm fine, Genevieve! Just leave me alone if you're going to be annoying and up in my business."
The words stung. Genevieve's heart clenched, and she fought back tears. "Fine," she whispered, turning on her heel and leaving the room. She closed the door softly behind her, the click of the latch echoing in the silence.
Tom stood there, his chest heaving with anger and frustration. He yanked at his tie, but it still wouldn't come off. His emotions spiraled out of control, and with a shout, he punched the wall, the sound of his fist meeting the plaster reverberating through the room. Pain shot up his arm, but he didn't care. He slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands, his breathing ragged.
Tears began to fall, mingling with the sweat on his brow. He couldn't keep up the facade any longer. The events of the day had overwhelmed him, and he felt like he was drowning in his own despair. The visit to his grandparents had gone horribly wrong, and now he had pushed away the one person who had always been there for him.
In the dim light of the room, Tom let himself break down. He couldn't remember the last time he had cried, but now he couldn't stop. The tears flowed freely, a release of all the pain, anger, and fear he had been holding inside.
After what felt like hours, he finally looked up, his vision blurred by tears. He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to compose himself. He knew he had to apologize to Genevieve, to explain what had happened, but right now, he couldn't even face himself.
As he sat there on the floor, a sense of loneliness washed over him. For the first time in a long while, Tom Riddle felt vulnerable, and it terrified him. He knew he couldn't do this alone, but he didn't know how to let anyone in, not even Genevieve.
Slowly, he wiped his tears and stood up, his legs trembling. He walked to the door and opened it, hoping that Genevieve hadn't gone far. He needed her more than ever, but he didn't know if he had already pushed her too far away.
Genevieve sat in her room, the silence around her heavy and suffocating. She replayed the moment in Tom's room over and over in her head, each time feeling the sting of his harsh words more acutely. She couldn't understand why he had pushed her away so forcefully. She needed air, space to think. Without another thought, she stood up, grabbed her cloak, and left the Slytherin common room, her feet carrying her towards the Forbidden Forest.
As she walked through the dark and twisted trees, she let the cool night air soothe her heated emotions. The shadows danced around her, and the moonlight filtered through the branches, creating an eerie, almost magical atmosphere. Deep in thought, she didn't notice the figure waiting by a tree until she was almost upon him. Startled, she froze as Gellert stepped out of the shadows, a cold smile on his face.
"Aren't you going to greet your Pops, my dear?" he asked, his voice silky and dangerous.
Genevieve forced herself to stay calm, though fear prickled at the edges of her composure. "Hello, Pops," she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.
Gellert's eyes narrowed. "Why haven't you responded to my letters?" he asked, anger simmering just beneath the surface.
Genevieve took a deep breath, summoning her courage. "I'm done being your spy, Pops. I won't play your games anymore."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Gellert's expression twisted into one of fury. "You insolent child," he hissed. Before she could react, he raised his hand and used Legilimency to invade her mind.
Genevieve tried to fight back, erecting mental barriers as best she could, but Gellert was too powerful. Her defenses crumbled, and he delved into her thoughts, rifling through her memories until he found what he was looking for. His eyes gleamed with triumph as he discovered her pregnancy.
"So my dear," he said slowly, a cruel smile spreading across his face, "you carry a child. How... interesting." Genevieve's heart pounded in her chest. She was about to respond when she heard footsteps approaching. She turned and saw Tom emerging from the trees, his eyes widening in shock as he took in the scene before him.
"Genevieve," Tom called, his voice laced with concern. He saw her bent over, clutching her head in pain, and his eyes darted to Grindelwald, who stood smirking nearby.
Genevieve looked at Tom, her eyes pleading. "Please, Pops," she begged, "leave me alone."
Tom's expression darkened, and he stepped forward, placing himself between Genevieve and Gellert. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice cold and commanding.
Gellert chuckled, a sound that sent chills down Genevieve's spine. "Ah, Tom Riddle," he said. "I was merely having a conversation with my daughter. I suggest you stay out of family matters."
Tom's eyes blazed with anger. "She is not a pawn," he spat. "Leave her alone, or you'll have to deal with me."
Gellert's smile faded, replaced by a look of disdain. "Very well," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "But this isn't over. Genevieve, remember this: you can never truly escape your family. Iâll be waiting for your reply, or face the consequences." With a final, piercing look at Tom, Gellert turned and disappeared into the shadows.
Tom immediately rushed to Genevieve, who was still clutching her head, tears streaming down her face. He gently took her into his arms, holding her close.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I should have been there for you. I shouldn't have pushed you away."
Genevieve sobbed against his chest, the fear and pain of the encounter with her father finally spilling over. "I'm so scared, Tom," she whispered. "He knows. He knows about the baby."
Tom tightened his hold on her, his mind racing. "We'll figure this out," he promised. "Together. I won't let him hurt you or our child. I swear it."
Genevieve looked up at him, her eyes filled with trust and love. "Thank you," she whispered. Tom pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his resolve hardening. He would protect her, no matter the cost. They would face whatever came their way, together.
Tom laid next to Genevieve on his bed, the moonlight casting a soft glow through the window. The tension from their earlier encounter with Gellert Grindelwald still lingered in the room, but the warmth of Genevieve's presence slowly began to soothe Tom's frayed nerves. He gently rubbed his hand over her arm, feeling the smoothness of her skin beneath his fingertips.Â
Genevieve closed her eyes, focusing on the calming rhythm of Tom's touch. Her breathing slowed, and she felt the tight knot of fear and anxiety in her chest begin to loosen. She had always found solace in Tom's presence, and tonight was no different.
"I'm sorry, Gen," Tom said softly, his voice breaking the silence. "I'm sorry for how I acted earlier. I shouldn't have pushed you away."
Genevieve opened her eyes and turned to look at him. "It's okay, Tom," she whispered. "I understand. We both have a lot on our minds."
Tom sighed, his eyes darkening with the memories of the day. "I need to tell you what happened," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Genevieve nodded, sensing the weight of his words. "I'm listening," she said, her voice gentle and encouraging.
Tom took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I went to Little Hangleton," he began, "to meet my grandfather, Marvolo Gaunt, and my uncle, Morfin. I wanted to know more about my mother, Merope."
Genevieve's eyes widened in surprise. "You actually found them?"
Tom nodded, his expression grim. "Yes. Morfin was the one who opened the door. He was furious at the intrusion and immediately recognized me as his sister's son. He called me a half-blood and spewed all kinds of vile insults." Genevieve squeezed his hand, offering silent support.
"Then Marvolo came out," Tom continued, "and I asked if I could speak to him. He grudgingly agreed and let me in. I asked him about my mother, about Merope. He told me how she used Amortentia to make my father fall in love with her, how they married and she became pregnant. But when the potion wore off, he abandoned her."
Genevieve's heart ached for Tom as she listened. "That's horrible," she said softly.
Tom's jaw tightened. "Marvolo called her a traitor and said I'd never be part of the Gaunt family. He... he made me feel like I was nothing, like I didn't belong anywhere."
Genevieve reached out and cupped his cheek, her eyes filled with empathy. "You belong with me, Tom," she said firmly. "You always will."
Tom's eyes softened as he looked at her. "Thank you," he whispered. "But it didn't end there. I... I lost control. I pointed my wand at Marvolo and... I used the Killing Curse. I killed him, Genevieve."
Genevieve's breath caught in her throat. "Tom," she said, her voice trembling, "why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Tom shook his head, tears glistening in his eyes. "I was scared. Scared of what you'd think of me. Scared of losing you."
Genevieve pulled him into a tight embrace, her own tears falling freely now. "I love you, Tom," she whispered fiercely. "Nothing will ever change that. We all have our demons, but we'll face them together."
Tom clung to her, his fear and guilt slowly easing in the warmth of her love. "I also found the Gaunt ring," he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder. "I took it with me, along with Marvolo's wand."
Genevieve pulled back slightly to look at him. "What are you going to do with them?"
Tom's eyes hardened with determination. "I'm not sure yet. But I know one thing: I won't let anyone use me or control me ever again. Not Marvolo, not my father, not anyone."
Genevieve nodded, her own resolve strengthening. "We'll figure it out, Tom. Together." Tom looked into her eyes, seeing the unwavering support and love in their depths. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, a silent promise that they would face whatever came their way as one.
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. The summer before Sixth Year.
WARNINGS: Some warnings that this chapter has are themes of parental conflict and manipulation, emotional distress and loneliness, intense emotional connection (alluding to intercourse), magical transformation, and mild violence in the form of dueling practice.
WORD COUNT: 3.9k
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Chapter Twenty-One
A Journey to The Past: The Summer before Sixth Year
Dear Tom,
I hope this letter finds you well. The days here at home have been long and solitary, with only my rune studies to keep me occupied. Iâve spent countless hours immersed in ancient texts, and Iâve made some fascinating discoveries. Did you know that some runes, when combined in specific sequences, can create powerful protective barriers? Iâve been experimenting with a few combinations, and Iâm eager to show you what Iâve learned when we return to Hogwarts.
Despite the excitement of my studies, the loneliness here is almost unbearable. I miss you terribly. The house feels empty, and I find myself wishing for our late-night conversations and shared moments by the Black Lake. I hope youâre doing well at the orphanage. How have you been spending your summer? Have you found any interesting projects to occupy your time?
Thereâs something I need to confess, Tom, something I can no longer keep to myself. I trust you more than anyone, and I need you to know the truth about my parents. For as long as I can remember, Iâve been caught in the middle of their conflicting ambitions. My father, Albus, and my other father, Gellert, have both used me to further their own causes. Iâve been a double spy, gathering information for both of them, trying to keep them from destroying each other while staying true to my own values.
Itâs exhausting, Tom. Iâm tired of being a pawn in their game. Iâve tried to help them both, but I canât keep living like this. The weight of their expectations and the constant fear of betrayal is wearing me down. I need to break free, to find my own path. I donât know how to do it yet, but I wanted you to know the truth. You deserve to know everything about me, even the parts Iâm ashamed of.
I canât wait to see you again. Being with you is the only time I feel truly understood and accepted. Please write back soon and tell me how you are. Your words mean more to me than you can imagine.
Yours always,
Genevieve
Dear Genevieve,
I was glad to receive your letter and to hear from you. Itâs reassuring to know that your rune studies are progressing well. I must admit, Iâm eager to see the new combinations and sequences youâve discovered. Perhaps we can experiment together when we return to Hogwarts.
Life at the orphanage is as dreary as ever. The days drag on, each one blending into the next with little to distinguish them. Iâve been passing the time with my own studies and a few projects Iâve been working on in secret. Your letters are a welcome respite from the monotony, a reminder that there is a world beyond these walls.
Your confession took me by surprise, though I understand why you felt the need to share it. The burden youâve been carrying is immense, and I can only imagine how difficult it has been for you to navigate the conflicting demands of your fathers. Know that you have my full support, no matter what. We will find a way for you to break free from this exhausting cycle.
Itâs clear to me that your fathers have underestimated you, as have many others. Your strength, intelligence, and resilience are unmatched. If anyone can navigate this treacherous path, itâs you. But you donât have to do it alone. Iâm here for you, always.
As for your feelings of being a pawn in their game, I understand your frustration. We all have our roles to play, but itâs essential to define those roles ourselves rather than let others dictate them. Together, we will find a way to ensure that your future is shaped by your own desires and ambitions, not those of others.
I miss you as well, more than words can express. The thought of seeing you again is one of the few things that keeps me going through these dreary days. Until then, hold on to the knowledge that you are not alone. We will face the challenges ahead together, just as we always have.
Yours,
Tom
Genevieve stood outside the iron gates of Wool's Orphanage, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. She had decided to surprise Tom with a visit, hoping to brighten the dreary days of summer for both of them. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the gate and made her way to the front door. When Mrs. Cole answered, Genevieve put on her most charming smile. "Hello, I'm looking for Tom Riddle," she said politely.
Mrs. Cole raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Wait here," she said, and disappeared into the depths of the orphanage.
Moments later, Tom appeared in the doorway, his expression one of surprise and curiosity. "Genevieve?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Genevieve smiled widely. "Surprise! I thought I'd come and take you away from here for a bit. Get your things." Tom didnât hesitate. He grabbed his belongings, stuffing them into a bag with quick, efficient movements. A few minutes later, they were walking out of the orphanage together, the sunlight casting long shadows as they headed towards the bustling streets of London.
Genevieve led Tom to a secluded alley where they could apparate unnoticed. With a firm grip on his arm, she whispered the spell, and in a blink, they found themselves standing in front of a charming, old-fashioned house surrounded by lush gardens.
"This is my home," Genevieve said, watching Tom's reaction carefully. "No one but us and my house-elf, are here for the summer." Tom's eyes widened as he took in the grandeur of the house and the peacefulness of the surroundings. "It's beautiful," he admitted, his usual composure softened by genuine appreciation.
Genevieve smiled, pleased by his reaction. "Come on, there's something I want to show you."
She led him through the house and out into the expansive garden. The air was fragrant with the scent of blooming flowers, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the trees. They stopped in a clearing surrounded by vibrant plants and a small pond that reflected the sky like a mirror.
"Stay here," Genevieve said, stepping a few paces away. She took a deep breath, focusing on the power within her. As Tom watched with a mixture of curiosity and concern, Genevieve's form began to shift. Her body elongated, her skin turning into glittering scales of blue and silver. Within moments, she had transformed into a majestic dragon, her wings spreading wide and her eyes gleaming with an otherworldly light.
Tom's mouth fell open, astonishment replacing his usual guarded expression. The dragon before him was both awe-inspiring and beautiful, and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare. Genevieve let out a soft, rumbling growl before shifting back into her human form. She stood before Tom, breathing heavily, her eyes searching for a reaction.
"I discovered this ability after an argument with my father," she explained. "I was so angry, and suddenly I transformed. I realized that I inherited these powers when I was made. I'm part dragon, Tom."
Tom took a step closer, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "Part dragon," he repeated, the wheels of his mind turning. "That's... incredible, Genevieve."Â
"There's more," she continued. "I found out that I can speak to snakes. I'm a Parselmouth, like you." Tom's eyes widened further, the surprise giving way to a calculating look. "A Parselmouth?" he echoed. "How did you discover that?"
Genevieve smiled wryly. "I stumbled upon a snake in the garden after changing form, and without thinking, I started talking to it. The words just came naturally. Think it has to do with being part dragon, the mother of snakes and all."
Tom nodded slowly, absorbing this new information. "This is remarkable," he said softly, his voice tinged with admiration. "You possess extraordinary powers, Genevieve." Genevieve reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "And now you know. There's no more secrets between us, Tom." He looked into her eyes, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Thank you for trusting me with this," he said. "It means more than you know."
Tom and Genevieve wandered through the grand halls of her mansion, the echoes of their footsteps creating a soft symphony in the spacious corridors. The house was a testament to centuries of magical heritage, filled with artifacts and secrets waiting to be discovered. Genevieve led Tom to one of her favorite places in the mansion: the expansive library.
The library was a marvel, with towering shelves that reached the ceiling, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the room. Genevieve's eyes sparkled with excitement as she pulled Tom towards a section dedicated to ancient magic.
"Look at this," she said, her voice filled with enthusiasm as she grabbed a thick, leather-bound book titled Runic Mysteries and Enchantments. She opened it to a page she had bookmarked, revealing intricate diagrams and symbols. "These are rune spells, some of the most powerful and ancient forms of magic."
Tom's eyes widened with interest as he examined the pages. "I've read about runes, but I've never had the chance to study them in depth. They seem fascinating."
Genevieve nodded eagerly. "They are. Let me show you how to perform one." She traced her finger along the symbols, explaining their meanings and the incantations required to activate them. "This one, for example, is a protection spell. It creates a barrier that can deflect almost any attack." She handed Tom a piece of parchment and a quill. "Try drawing this rune. The key is precision and intent." Tom took the quill and carefully replicated the rune, his concentration evident in the furrow of his brow. Genevieve watched him with a mixture of admiration and curiosity. When he finished, she nodded approvingly.
"Now, speak the incantation," she instructed.
Tom recited the ancient words, and the rune on the parchment began to glow with a soft, blue light. A shimmering barrier appeared around them, flickering with magical energy.
Tom's eyes widened in amazement. "It worked," he said, a hint of pride in his voice.
Genevieve grinned. "Of course it did. You're a natural."
Tom looked at her, a question forming in his mind. "Won't we get caught by the Ministry for doing magic outside of school?"
Genevieve smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Not here. This house is protected by ancient wards that prevent the Ministry from detecting underage magic. We can practice as much as we want without worrying about getting caught."
Tom's face lit up with excitement. "That's incredible. We can experiment with all sorts of spells."
Genevieve nodded, her excitement matching his. "Exactly. Let's try some more." They spent the day immersed in the world of runes and spells, experimenting with different enchantments and protections. Laughter filled the library as they discovered the limits of their abilities, each spell bringing them closer together.Â
Genevieve taught Tom how to summon light with a simple rune, which cast a warm glow over the room. They worked on more complex enchantments, like creating a pocket of air underwater or setting invisible traps that triggered harmless illusions. As the hours passed, the library became a haven of magical exploration and shared knowledge. They took breaks, lounging on the comfortable chairs scattered around the room, discussing their future plans and dreams.
"I wish summer could last forever," Genevieve said wistfully, looking out the window at the setting sun.
Tom nodded, his eyes reflecting the golden light. "It's been... different. I never thought I could enjoy myself like this."
Genevieve smiled softly. "There's so much more to magic than power and control, Tom. There's wonder and discovery too. I'm glad we can share this."
Tom looked at her, a rare smile playing on his lips. "Me too, Genevieve. Me too." As the day turned into night, they continued their magical experiments, the bond between them growing stronger with each spell they cast. In that library, surrounded by the wisdom of the ages, they found a sanctuary where their magic and their friendship could flourish without fear or constraint.
As the evening sky deepened into a tapestry of stars, Tom glanced out the window and then at the clock on the mantel. "I should head back to the orphanage. It's getting late." Genevieve looked at him, concern etched in her features. "You don't have to go back, Tom. It's not safe to travel at this hour. Why don't you stay the night? It would be better."
Tom hesitated, weighing the options. The idea of staying somewhere warm and welcoming was tempting, but he was unaccustomed to such hospitality. Finally, he nodded. "Alright. I'll stay." Genevieve smiled and led him up the grand staircase to her room. It was a spacious chamber, adorned with soft colors and filled with books and magical artifacts. A large, comfortable bed dominated one side, while a plush couch sat near the window.
"You can sleep wherever youâd like," Genevieve offered. "I want you to be comfortable."
Tom nodded and set his things down, lying on the couch. He stared at the ceiling, the unfamiliar comfort making it difficult to relax. Across the room, Genevieve climbed into her bed, pulling the covers around her. They both lay in silence for a while, the night pressing in around them.
After a while, Genevieve whispered into the darkness, "Tom, are you awake?"
"Yes," Tom replied softly. "I can never really sleep."
Genevieve turned to face him, her eyes glinting in the dim light. "Why don't you come here? It might be more comfortable." Tom hesitated, but the genuine concern in her voice made him consider the offer. He reluctantly got up from the couch and moved to the bed, lying down beside her. Genevieve shifted closer, cuddling into him. The warmth of her body was a stark contrast to the cold loneliness he was used to.
"I'm not used to this," Tom admitted quietly, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "Being close to someone."
Genevieve wrapped an arm around him, her touch gentle and reassuring. "It's okay, Tom. You don't have to be alone." Tom lay still, the unfamiliar sensation of comfort and closeness washing over him. He could feel Genevieve's steady breathing, her warmth seeping into him. Gradually, the tension in his body eased, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt a sense of peace. Genevieve's presence, her warmth, lulled him into a state of relaxation he had never known.Â
She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opened them, she found herself lost in the depths of his gaze, a silent understanding passing between them. Without another word, Tom closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both fierce and tender. Genevieve responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as she melted into him. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, entwined in a moment of raw, unbridled emotion. The kiss deepened, their breaths mingling as they explored the newfound intimacy between them. Tomâs hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer, and Genevieveâs fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her as if afraid to let go. They broke apart briefly, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath. The room felt charged, filled with the intensity of their shared connection. "Tom," Genevieve began, her voice a soft murmur. "Shh," he whispered, placing a finger gently against her lips. "We donât have to say anything right now. Just⊠be here with me." Genevieve nodded, her heart pounding as she gazed into his eyes. The moment was perfect, suspended in time, a promise of what could be. They leaned in for another kiss, the passion between them undeniable, as the night continued to unfold, filled with possibilities.
As the first light of dawn crept into the room, Genevieve woke to find Tom still sleeping peacefully beside her. She watched him for a moment, marveling at how calm he looked. She knew that beneath his tough exterior, there was a boy who longed for connection, for someone to understand him. In that moment, Genevieve vowed to be that person for him, to stand by him and help him find the peace he so desperately needed. And as she lay back down, closing her eyes once more.
The scent of freshly baked bread and brewed tea filled the space, creating a cozy atmosphere. Genevieve poured tea for both of them, her eyes catching Tom's as he took a sip.
"Did you sleep well?" she asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
Tom nodded, almost shyly. "Better than I have in a long time. Thank you.â
Genevieve's smile widened. "I'm glad to hear that. I was thinking, before you head back to Wool's, we could spend the day in Diagon Alley. There's so much to see and do."
Tom considered the idea, a spark of curiosity igniting in his eyes. "That sounds...nice. I've only been there a few times."
"Then it's settled," Genevieve said, her excitement infectious. "We'll explore the shops, maybe pick up a few things for school." After breakfast, they gathered their belongings and set off for Diagon Alley. The bustling street was alive with the chatter of witches and wizards, the clinking of coins, and the bright displays of magical goods in the shop windows.
Their first stop was Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore. Genevieve led Tom to a section on ancient runes, her eyes sparkling as she pulled a book from the shelf. "This one has some fascinating spells. I thought you might like it."
Tom took the book, flipping through the pages. "It's incredible. Thank you, Genevieve."
They spent the next few hours wandering through the various shops. In the apothecary, Genevieve picked up rare ingredients for her potions, explaining their uses to Tom with enthusiasm. At Quality Quidditch Supplies, they admired the latest brooms and discussed the upcoming school matches.
As they walked, their conversation flowed effortlessly. They talked about their classes, their hopes for the future, and their shared love for magic. Tom found himself opening up more than he ever had before, drawn to Genevieve's warmth and understanding.
Tom hesitated, then spoke with a rare openness. "I want to find out more about my family, my lineage. There's so much I don't know. And...I want to make a difference, to change things."
Genevieve nodded, her eyes filled with empathy. "I understand. And I believe you will. You're incredibly talented, Tom. Just remember that you don't have to do it alone."
Tom smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile. "Thank you, Genevieve. That means more than you know." As the afternoon wore on, they continued their exploration, ending up at Ollivanders, where they marveled at the wands and the stories behind them. Finally, as the sun began to set, they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron.
Standing outside the pub, Tom looked at Genevieve, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance in his eyes. "I suppose I should head back now."
Genevieve nodded, her expression soft. "I wish you didn't have to go, but I understand. Just remember, you always have a place to stay if you want to get out of the orphanage."
Tom leaned in, surprising both of them with a quick hug. "Thank you, Genevieve. For everything." She smiled, watching as he walked away, her heart full of hope for the boy who had become so important to her.Â
Genevieve stood in her private potions lab, the air thick with the scent of herbs and simmering concoctions. The lab was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she could lose herself in the precise art of potion-making. She measured out powdered bicorn horn, carefully adding it to a cauldron bubbling with a thick, emerald liquid. A puff of smoke rose as the ingredients combined, releasing a sweet, earthy aroma.
Potions had always been a passion of hers, a delicate balance of science and magic. She found solace in the methodical process, each step requiring focus and precision. As she stirred the potion clockwise, she let her mind wander to the events of the past few weeksâTom's visit, their shared secrets, and the burgeoning feelings that had developed between them. But she quickly pushed those thoughts aside. She had work to do.
Once the potion was left to simmer, she moved to another corner of her room, which was set up for dueling practice. With a flick of her wand, practice dummies sprang to life, and she began casting spells at them with precision and power. "Expelliarmus!" she shouted, and the dummy's wand flew from its grasp. "Protego!" she cast, deflecting imaginary curses with a shimmering shield. The dummies fired back weak hexes, which she easily countered, her movements fluid and confident.
But it wasn't just her combat skills she was honing. Genevieve had recently discovered her natural ability as a Legilimens, a skill she knew she had to refine and protect. She sat cross-legged on the floor, her eyes closed, breathing deeply as she delved into the practice of Occlumency. The art of protecting one's mind from intrusion was crucial, especially given her precarious position between Albus and Gellert. She visualized mental barriers, solid and impenetrable, fortifying her thoughts against any unwelcome invasion.
As the day turned to evening, Genevieve rose from her meditative state and walked to her desk. She pulled out a roll of parchment, dipping her quill in ink. Her heart pounded as she began writing a letter to the Ministry of Magic, a document that would claim her emancipation from her parents. She chose her words carefully, detailing her reasons and her readiness to take control of her own life. The weight of her decision pressed heavily on her, but she knew it was necessary. Her double life was becoming increasingly dangerous, and she needed to assert her independence.
Once the letter was sealed with her personal wax seal, she attached it to the leg of her snowy owl, Athena. "Take this to the Ministry," she whispered, stroking the bird's soft feathers. Athena hooted softly and took off into the twilight, her white form disappearing into the distance. Genevieve watched until Athena was out of sight, then returned to her potions lab to check on her brew. The potion had turned a perfect shade of emerald, a sign that it was ready. She bottled it carefully, labeling it with a practiced hand.
As she cleaned up her workspace, her thoughts drifted back to Tom. She wondered how he was faring at the orphanage, if he was thinking of her as much as she thought of him. A part of her longed to write to him, to share her day and her progress. But she knew that for now, her focus had to remain on honing her skills and securing her future. Genevieve extinguished the lights in her lab, feeling a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. She had accomplished much today, but the path ahead was still fraught with challenges. With a deep breath, she headed to bed, determined to face whatever came next with strength and resolve. Tomorrow was a new day, and she would be ready for it.
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. Their Fifth Year.
WARNINGS: Some warnings worth mentioning are truancy, rebellion, feelings of betrayal, dueling, manipulation, etc. As the characters are aging, these warnings should be taken into account as the themes may get slightly darker with the intensity and build up of the plot. Furthermore, if any of these topics are touchy or uncomfortable, do not hesitate to leave the page or chapter. As well as, if anything pops up that is not mentioned in the warnings, let me know so I can properly add it to the warnings section!
WORD COUNT: 9.4k
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Chapter Twenty
A Journey to The Past: Fifth Year
Fifth-year Genevieve Dumbledore had always been a model student, known for her diligence and exceptional performance in her classes. However, as the school year progressed, she began to withdraw, skipping almost every class except for Defense Against the Dark Arts and Transfiguration. Her professors were perplexed by her sudden change in behavior, but none were more concerned than her father.
It was a chilly autumn afternoon when Professor Slughorn finally had enough. "Miss Dumbledore," he said, his tone a mixture of disappointment and concern as he found her absent from yet another Potions class, "I cannot allow this to continue."
Later that day, Genevieve found herself standing before her father's desk in his office, the familiar scent of lemon drops and old parchment filling the room. Albus regarded her with a mixture of sadness and sternness, his blue eyes piercing yet compassionate.
"Genevieve," he began gently, "Professor Slughorn has expressed serious concerns about your performance in Potions. He has requested that you receive tutoring."
Genevieve's heart sank. She had been avoiding Potions precisely because she found it increasingly difficult to concentrate nowadays while secretly working with her Pops, Gellert. On top of that, Albus had also asked her to spy not only on Tom, but Gellert as well. Over time, she had realized that they no longer were together, but even more, they both had made her complete their work. She was honestly exhausted and tired. She looked down at her feet, unwilling to meet her father's gaze. "Who will be tutoring me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Albus leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Tom has agreed to assist you. He is one of the best students in Potions, and I believe he can help you improve your grade."
Genevieve's stomach churned at the thought. She and Tom had grown apart over the years, their initial camaraderie giving way to rivalry and distance. The idea of spending mandatory time with him felt like a punishment. "I don't need tutoring," she protested weakly, though she knew it was futile. âI already know everything anyways, I donât see the point of having Tom to teach me stuff I already know.â
"Genevieve," her father said, his voice firm but kind, "this is not optional. You must attend these sessions if you wish to remain in good standing. Professor Slughorn and I both believe this is for the best." Her frustration boiling over, Genevieve bolted from the office, tears stinging her eyes. She ran through the castle corridors, her mind a whirlwind of anger and despair. She didn't want to be forced into this, didn't want to be seen as a failure.
Without thinking, she found herself heading towards the Forbidden Forest, the one place where she could escape the suffocating pressures of her life. The forest loomed ahead, dark and foreboding, but it was a familiar sanctuary. She slipped through the trees, the cool air biting at her cheeks as she ventured deeper into the woods.
Genevieve finally stopped near a small clearing, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She sank to the ground, burying her face in her hands. The forest was silent except for the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. Here, she could be alone with her thoughts, away from the expectations and judgments of others. As she sat there, the initial anger began to fade, replaced by a deep sadness. She missed the simplicity of her earlier years, missed the connection she had once felt with her father and even with Tom. She felt adrift, struggling to find her place in a world that seemed increasingly complicated and demanding.
As she sat there, her emotions began to overflow. She buried her face in her hands, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt so alone, so misunderstood. The pressure to succeed, to live up to the expectations of her family, was crushing her spirit. She let out a shuddering sob, her body trembling with the weight of her feelings. Suddenly, she felt a strange sensation, as if the very air around her was responding to her distress. She looked up, her tear-filled eyes widening in surprise. The trees around her seemed to be moving, their branches bending and intertwining to form a protective canopy above her. She watched in awe as flowers began to bloom, their delicate petals unfurling in the dim light. Spider lilies, their ethereal beauty captivating, sprang up around her, their luminescent glow casting a soft yellow light on the clearing.
Genevieve stood slowly, her hands reaching out to touch the flowers. As she did, she felt a surge of magic, a deep connection to the forest around her. It was as if her very essence was pouring into the ground, creating this sanctuary as a reflection of her innermost desires. The yellow glow intensified, enveloping her in its warm embrace. She felt a sense of peace wash over her, the anger and frustration ebbing away.
She wandered through the sanctuary she had created, marveling at the beauty of it. The flowers seemed to pulse with her magic, their glow a comforting presence in the darkness. The trees, now forming a protective barrier, offered a sense of security she had not felt in a long time. She found a soft patch of moss and sat down, leaning against the trunk of a tree. The luminescent light flickered gently, creating a soothing ambiance.
Genevieve closed her eyes, her body relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages. She let out a deep breath, her mind finally quieting. As she sat there, she realized that she had found a sanctuary not just in the forest, but within herself. Her magic had created this place, a testament to her strength and resilience.
As the night wore on, Genevieve's exhaustion began to take over. She curled up on the mossy ground, the soft glow of the spider lilies casting gentle shadows around her. She felt a profound sense of belonging, as if the forest had accepted her as one of its own. The luminescent light dimmed slightly, creating a peaceful cocoon of warmth and safety. With a final sigh, Genevieve allowed herself to drift into sleep, her mind filled with dreams of the beautiful sanctuary she had created. The forest stood watch over her, its ancient magic intertwined with her own, ensuring that she would find solace and strength in the days to come.
When she awoke the next morning, the sun filtering through the canopy of trees, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She knew she would have to face her challenges, but now she had a place to retreat to, a sanctuary where she could reconnect with her magic and find peace. With a final glance at the beautiful clearing, Genevieve made her way back to Hogwarts.
Tom Riddle walked purposefully through the corridors of Hogwarts, his mind focused on the task ahead. It was the first day of his tutoring sessions with Genevieve Dumbledore, and he was determined to make the most of this opportunity. The situation was curiousâGenevieve, usually an exceptional student, had been missing almost all her classes. Professor Slughorn had requested that Tom tutor her in Potions due to her declining grades, and Tom was more than willing to oblige. He saw this as a chance to assert his superiority and, perhaps, uncover the reasons behind her sudden change in behavior.
When he arrived at the assigned classroom, Genevieve was already there, sitting at a desk with her arms crossed and a sullen expression on her face. Tom could see the tension in her posture, the defiance in her eyes. He suppressed a smirk as he approached her.
"Good morning, Genevieve," he said smoothly, taking a seat across from her. "I trust you're ready to begin?"
Genevieve glanced at him, her eyes narrowing. "Let's just get this over with, Tom," she replied, her tone flat. Tom raised an eyebrow, unfazed by her hostility. He opened his Potions textbook and began to ask her a series of questions, each one more challenging than the last. He took a perverse pleasure in watching her struggle to answer, his probing questions designed to unsettle her.
"Explain the properties of a Wiggenweld Potion," he asked, his voice cool and detached.
Genevieve took a deep breath, her frustration evident. "The Wiggenweld Potion is a powerful healing potion," she began, her voice tight. "It can heal serious injuries and even counteract the Draught of Living Death."
Tom nodded, but there was no satisfaction in his expression. "Correct," he said, then immediately launched into another question. "And what are the key ingredients in a Polyjuice Potion?"
Genevieve's eyes flashed with irritation. "Lacewing flies, leeches, powdered Bicorn horn, Knotgrass, fluxweed picked at the full moon, and a piece of the person you want to transform into."
"Very good," Tom said, his tone still devoid of warmth. He continued to test her, his questions becoming more obscure and detailed. Genevieve's frustration grew with each passing minute, her patience wearing thin.
Finally, she snapped. "I don't need your tutoring, Tom!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing off the classroom walls. "I'm only here because I'm being forced to. I don't need you to mock me or test me on things I already know!"
Tom leaned back in his chair, regarding her with a calculating gaze. "Is that so?" he said quietly. "Then why have you been skipping classes, Genevieve? This isn't like you."
Genevieve glared at him, her fists clenched. "That's none of your business," she spat.
Tom's eyes gleamed with interest. "Oh, but it is, Genevieve. You see, I've been asked to help you, and I can't do that if I don't understand what's going on.
"Why do you care that I'm not attending classes?" Genevieve asked, her voice edged with irritation. "It's not like it's any of your concern." Tom leaned back in his chair, his expression inscrutable. "It doesn't make sense," he said calmly. "Someone who was once at the top of the class is now at the bottom. Why the sudden change, Genevieve?"
Genevieve's eyes flashed with anger. "Maybe I just got tired of it all," she snapped. "Maybe I don't want to be top of the class anymore."
Tom raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "That's not a reason, that's an excuse," he said. "You and I both know you're capable of more than this. So what's really going on?"
Genevieve's fists clenched, her frustration boiling over. "Keep your nose out of my life, Tom," she spat. "You've been doing a great job of it since the end of first year, so why start now?"
Tom's expression hardened, but he remained silent, waiting for her to continue.
"Ever since we started at Hogwarts, you've been distancing yourself from me," Genevieve continued, her voice trembling with emotion. "You pushed me away, and now you have the nerve to act like you care? Just leave me alone." With that, she stood up abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. She stormed out of the classroom, her footsteps echoing in the corridor.
Tom watched her go, a mixture of frustration and guilt gnawing at him. He had pushed her away, it was true, but he had his reasons. He hadn't expected her to lash out so vehemently, nor had he realized how deeply his actions had hurt her. For a moment, he sat there in silence, his mind racing. Then, with a sigh, he gathered his books and left the classroom, a newfound determination in his step. He wasn't sure how, but he knew he needed to make things right with Genevieve.Â
Genevieve trudged through the corridors of Hogwarts, her steps heavy with reluctance as she made her way to the library. As she entered the library, she spotted Tom sitting at a table, a stack of books spread out before him. His expression was one of mild curiosity, tinged with a hint of skepticism as he regarded her.
"Late, as usual," he remarked coolly.
Genevieve bristled at his comment, her rebellious spirit flaring to life. "I'm not here because I want to be, if you must be reminded" she retorted defiantly. "And I certainly don't need your help like I told you the other fifty times."
Tom arched an eyebrow, his gaze unwavering. "Oh? And yet here you are, assigned to me for tutoring in Potions," he countered with amusement.
Genevieve clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to snap back. She knew he was right, but she refused to let him see her vulnerability. "Fine," she muttered through gritted teeth. "Let's get this over with."
With a resigned sigh, Tom gestured for her to sit opposite him. As they delved into their studies, their interactions were filled with tension and animosity, their academic rivalry simmering just beneath the surface. Despite their bickering, Genevieve couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of her mind. She was rebelling against her father and everything he stood for, and yet, deep down, she couldn't help but wonder if she was making a grave mistake. But for now, she pushed those doubts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand as she begrudgingly allowed Tom to tutor her in Potions.
As the weeks went by, the tension between Tom and Genevieve began to ease during their tutoring sessions. Tom's initial aloofness softened, and Genevieve's rebellious spirit calmed. Their conversations became less combative, and a tentative camaraderie started to form. One evening, as they finished going over a particularly complex potion, Tom looked at Genevieve with a contemplative expression. "You've really improved," he remarked, a hint of genuine admiration in his voice.
Genevieve glanced up, surprised by the compliment. "Thanks. I guess it helps having a decent tutor," she replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
Tom hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "You know, we have a Defense Against the Dark Arts exam coming up. I was thinking... Maybe we could study together?"
Genevieve's eyes widened slightly, caught off guard by the invitation. Slowly, she nodded. "I'd like that," she said, her smile growing warmer. "It's been a while since I've had a study partner."
Tom's eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, they shared a mutual understanding. "Great. Let's meet in the library tomorrow after dinner?"
"Sounds good," Genevieve agreed, feeling a flicker of the old connection she once had with Tom. In the days that followed, Genevieve returned to her classes, sitting next to Tom. Though she wasn't as involved as she used to be, her presence was a dramatic shift from her previous absence. Her grades began to improve, reflecting her renewed commitment to her studies.
During one of their study sessions, Tom looked at her thoughtfully. "It's good to see you back in class," he said quietly.
Genevieve nodded, her gaze steady. "I realized I can't keep running away from everything," she replied. "Besides, I have to keep up with my academic rival."
Tom smirked, a rare glint of amusement in his eyes. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
The Room of Requirement had taken on the appearance of a grand dueling chamber, its high ceilings echoing the sounds of spells being cast and the flicker of wand light. Tom and Genevieve faced each other, their expressions determined and focused.
"Ready?" Tom asked, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of intensity.
Genevieve nodded, her grip on her wand tightening. "Always."
They began with basic spells, testing each other's reflexes and precision. As their duel progressed, the spells became more advanced, their movements more rapid. The air crackled with magical energy as they pushed each other to their limits.
"Stupefy!" Tom shouted, but Genevieve deflected the spell with a swift flick of her wand.
"Protego!" she countered, casting a shield charm just in time to block his next attack.
The duel continued, each spell cast with increasing ferocity. Finally, Genevieve saw an opening. Summoning all her focus, she cast her spell with precision and force. "Expelliarmus!"
Tom's wand flew out of his hand, clattering to the ground several feet away. He stood there, momentarily stunned, his expression darkening with anger.
"You disarmed me," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.
Genevieve, panting slightly from the exertion, lowered her wand. "It's just practice, Tom," she said, trying to defuse the tension. "We were bothâ"
"Just practice?" Tom interrupted, his eyes blazing with fury. "You think this is a game?"
Genevieve frowned, taken aback by his reaction. "Tom, calm down. It was a fair duel."
Tom's hands clenched into fists. "Fair? You think I don't see what you're doing? Working with Dumbledore, trying to undermine me?"
"What are you talking about?" Genevieve said. "I'm not working with anyone against you. We're friends, remember?"
Tom laughed, a bitter sound. "Friends? Is that what you call this? You, the daughter of Dumbledore, playing nice with the rest of us while secretly carrying out your father's agenda?"
Genevieve's eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. "That's not entirely true, Tom. I've never betrayed you."
"You've been lying to me, all along!" Tom's voice rose, filled with accusation. "Pretending to care, pretending to be my friend, all while spying for Dumbledore."
"Stop it, Tom!" Genevieve shouted back, her own anger rising. âI care about you, and I've neverâ"
"Liar!" Tom's face twisted with rage. "I don't need you, Genevieve. I don't need anyone!"
Silence fell between them, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. Genevieve felt a lump form in her throat, her heart aching at Tom's words. She took a step back, struggling to keep her composure.
"If that's how you really feel," she said quietly, her voice trembling, "then maybe I should just leave you alone."
Tom turned away, not trusting himself to speak further. As Genevieve walked towards the door, she paused, glancing back at him one last time. "I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for, Tom. But you won't find it by pushing everyone away." With that, she left the room, the door closing softly behind her. Tom stood alone, his anger slowly fading, replaced by a deep, unsettling emptiness. He bent down to retrieve his wand, his thoughts a chaotic storm of regret and confusion.
Genevieve stumbled through the dense undergrowth of the Forbidden Forest, her vision blurred by tears of frustration and hurt. The echoes of her argument with Tom still reverberated in her mind, each cutting word carving deep into her wounded heart. He ridiculed her, accusing her of working with Dumbledore against him, of betraying their friendship for the sake of her father's agenda. Genevieve's heart twisted with anguish as she listened to his words, each one a painful reminder of their fractured bond. She had tried to defend herself, to reason with him, but Tom's anger was relentless, his words like barbed wire digging into her skin.
But what hurt the most was the fact that it was true, she was working with her father to spy on him. However, she never had revealed anything to betray him as she was growing tired of her fatherâs relentlessness to prove Tom was a danger. It was a bitter reminder of their diverging paths, of the growing chasm between them, especially with her wavering loyalty to both Albus and Gellert. Everything was building up so quickly, and it became too much. As the argument reached its peak, Genevieve couldn't bear it any longer. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she had fled into the forest, seeking solace amidst the ancient trees and whispered secrets.
Now, as she stumbled through the shadowed depths of the Forbidden Forest, Genevieve felt the weight of her despair pressing down upon her. She sank to her knees, her sobs echoing through the silent woods, a poignant symphony of pain and regret. In that moment of vulnerability, Genevieve felt utterly alone, the echoes of Tom's accusations still ringing in her ears. She didn't know how to mend what had been broken between them, didn't know if their friendship could ever be restored. All she could do was cry, lost in the wilderness of her own emotions, yearning for a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness that surrounded her.
As she knelt there, her tears soaking into the forest floor, the world around her seemed to shift again. The trees bent and engulfed her, creating her sanctuary once again. Genevieve looked around in awe, her sorrow momentarily forgotten as she took in the sanctuary. She could never get enough of how magic was able to do wonderful things. The beauty of it all was overwhelming, a reminder of the power she held within her. She lay down on the soft bed of flowers, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. As she drifted off to sleep, the last thought that crossed her mind was a fleeting hope that she could somehow find a way to heal the rift between her and Tom, and perhaps, mend her own fractured heart in the process.
The soft rap of knuckles against the wooden door echoed through the silent corridor, breaking the stillness of the evening air. Genevieve sat on the edge of her bed, her heart heavy with the weight of recent arguments and hurtful words exchanged with Tom. She knew it was him standing outside her door, seeking reconciliation, seeking forgiveness.
"Go away, Tom," she called out, her voice tinged with a mixture of sadness and frustration. There was a moment of hesitation, a pause that stretched between them like an unspoken plea for understanding. Then, with a resigned sigh, the door creaked open, revealing Tom standing on the threshold, a bouquet of daffodils in his hand. He felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his chest as he met her eyes, her hurt and anger mirrored in her gaze.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice tinged with slight remorse as he held out the flowers as a peace offering. "I shouldn't have said those things. I shouldn't have let my anger get the best of me."
Genevieve's eyes flickered to the bouquet, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite herself. She moved aside, wordlessly inviting Tom into her room, her heart aching for reconciliation, for the restoration of their fractured friendship. Tom stepped inside, his movements hesitant, uncertain. He approached Genevieve slowly, his eyes searching hers for any sign of forgiveness. When she reached out to accept the flowers, he felt a surge of relief wash over him, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness of their recent discord.
"Thank you," Genevieve whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she met Tom's gaze, her eyes softening with warmth and understanding. Tom swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion as he watched her. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reached out to embrace her, his arms wrapping around her in a hesitant embrace.
At first, his touch was stiff, his movements rigid with uncertainty. But as Genevieve leaned into his embrace, he felt himself relax, felt the tension melting away as he allowed himself to be enveloped in her warmth. They stayed like that for a while, two lost souls seeking solace in each other's embrace, their hearts slowly healing as they began to rebuild the fragile bonds of friendship that had been tested by the storms of their own making.
Tom couldn't help but think about the irony of the situation. He, who prided himself on being detached and self-reliant, now found comfort in the very person he had pushed away. The realization hit him hard, but he embraced it, knowing that this moment was a step toward mending what was broken.
"I'm glad you're here," Genevieve said softly, her voice muffled against his shoulder.
Tom nodded, his chin brushing against her hair. "Me too," he replied, his voice steady now, filled with a newfound determination.Â
Tom and Genevieve walked along the shore of the Black Lake, the still water reflecting the darkening sky. The air was cool, carrying the scent of pine from the Forbidden Forest, and the sound of their footsteps mingled with the distant croaks of frogs and chirping of crickets. They had spent more time together since the incident in the Forbidden Forest, their friendship slowly mending as they shared more conversations and moments like this.
As they strolled, the pureblood Slytherin boys â Malfoy, Nott, Rosier, and a few others â passed by. They nodded to Tom, their expressions a mix of respect and acknowledgment, but none of them bothered him or Genevieve.
Genevieve observed the interaction, her curiosity piqued. "When did you become acquainted with them?" she asked, glancing at Tom.
Tom's expression remained unreadable, his eyes fixed ahead. "I just did," he replied, evading the question. After a moment, he added, "I've been thinking about something else."
"Oh?" Genevieve prompted, her curiosity growing. Tom stopped and led her to a secluded area, away from the prying eyes and ears of other students. He turned to face her, his expression serious. "Genevieve, there's something I haven't told anyone. I can speak to snakes. It's called Parseltongue."
Genevieve's eyes widened in surprise. "You can speak to snakes?" she repeated, her voice hushed with awe.
Tom nodded. "Yes. And from what I've learned, it's a rare ability. I don't think I'm just a Muggle-born. I need to know more about my lineage."
Genevieve nodded in understanding, her mind racing with possibilities. "Why do you think this power means you're not a Muggle-born?" she asked gently.
Tom's gaze hardened with determination. "Because it's a gift associated with Salazar Slytherin. If I have this power, it means I might be related to him. I need to find out who my family is, where I come from."
Genevieve took a deep breath, her mind whirring with thoughts. "Tom, I can help you. I have access to resources and knowledge that might aid in your search. My father, he... Well, he knows a lot about the magical world and its histories."
Tom's eyes flickered with a mix of hope and suspicion. "Why would you help me?"
"Because we're friends," Genevieve said simply, her gaze unwavering. "And because I believe in you. I believe that finding out where you come from is important. But promise me, you'll be careful. Don't let this search consume you."
Tom studied her for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Thank you, Genevieve. I appreciate it." As they continued their walk by the lake, a newfound sense of understanding settled between them. They talked about plans and theories, Genevieve offering to research in the library and talk to her father discreetly. Tom, in turn, shared his suspicions and the little clues he had gathered so far.Â
The Yule break at Hogwarts brought an eerie quietness to the castle, a stark contrast to the usual bustling corridors filled with students. Genevieve and Tom were among the few who stayed behind, their footsteps echoing in the empty hallways. As the cold winter wind howled outside, the air inside the castle crackled with tension.
Genevieve confronted Tom in an abandoned classroom, her eyes piercing through his facade of secrecy and deception. "Tom," she began, her voice steady but laced with urgency, "I know what you've been doing. I know about the Horcruxes."
Tom's expression darkened with rage, his eyes narrowing as he tried to mask his shock. "How did you find out?" he demanded, his voice seething with anger. "Who told you?"
Ignoring his question, Genevieve pressed on, her focus unwavering. "Do you even understand what you're doing, Tom? The consequences of splitting your soul so many times? Do you know what it does to you?"
Tom's eyes flashed with determination, his jaw set. "It's the only way," he replied, his voice cold and resolute. "The only way to become the most powerful sorcerer alive. To ensure that I never die."
Genevieve's expression softened, her eyes filling with a mix of anger and concern. "No, Tom," she said softly, shaking her head. "It's not the way. You donât understand the true cost of what youâre doing."
With a heavy heart, she reached into her cloak and withdrew a small package. Handing it to him, she murmured, "Happy Birthday."
Tom took the package, his fingers brushing against the smooth surface of a journal engraved with his full name. His eyes widened in surprise. "How did youâ?"
Genevieve interrupted, her voice gentle but firm. "I found out who your family is. Your mother was Merope Gaunt, daughter of Marvolo Gaunt, and sister to Morfin Gaunt. Heirs of Salazar Slytherin himself. She named you after your father and grandfather. I thought you should know."
Tom stared at her, his mind reeling with the revelation. "Merope Gaunt... Marvolo Gaunt...," he muttered, the names foreign yet strangely familiar. "Heirs of Salazar Slytherin." As Genevieve turned to leave, Tom was left standing there, a maelstrom of conflicting emotions swirling within him. No one had ever known when his birthday was, yet Genevieve had found out, somehow. The weight of the journal in his hands felt heavy with meaning.
"Genevieve," he called after her, his voice softer now, tinged with something almost like vulnerability. "Why did you do this? Why help me?" She paused, looking back at him with a mixture of sadness and determination. "Because despite everything, I believe there's still good in you, Tom. I want you to see that before it's too late."
Tom watched her walk away, feeling a gnawing emptiness and uncertainty. Running his hands through his hair in frustration, he let out a heavy sigh. His mind was a storm of thoughts and emotions, a chaotic blend of anger, confusion, and a sliver of something he hadn't felt in a long timeâhope. With a sense of unease settling in his chest, he turned and headed to his room, seeking clarity amidst the chaos of his thoughts. The journal felt like a lifeline, a connection to a past he had never known. But more than that, it was a reminder that someone still cared. And that, perhaps, was the most terrifying revelation of all.
As Tom stared at the journal in his hands, the weight of Genevieve's words hung heavy in the air. The flickering light from the fireplace cast dancing shadows on the walls, reflecting the turmoil within his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of disbelief at the revelation of his ancestry, nor could he ignore the unsettling truth of her warnings about his pursuit of power. For the first time in a long while, Tom found himself grappling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, there was the burning desire for power, the relentless drive to carve out his own destiny and become the most powerful sorcerer the world had ever seen. The dream of immortality and control had been his guiding star for so long that the mere thought of relinquishing it felt like a betrayal to himself. But on the other hand, there was Genevieve â wise, strong, and unwavering in her convictions. Her words had pierced through the thick armor of his ambition, reaching the vulnerable core he had buried deep within.
Her opinion mattered to him more than he cared to admit. He had always admired her resilience, her intelligence, and her unwavering sense of right and wrong. She was the only one who dared to challenge him, who saw through his facade and confronted him with the truth. And yet, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt at the thought of disregarding her warnings, of risking everything for the sake of his own ambition. Genevieve's presence had always been a grounding force in his life, a reminder that there was more to the world than just power and conquest.
As he sat there, lost in thought, a realization began to dawn on him. Perhaps there was more to life than power and ambition. Perhaps there was something worth fighting for, worth sacrificing for â something that transcended the pursuit of greatness. Genevieve had shown him a glimpse of a different path, one where strength and compassion could coexist, where power was not an end but a means to protect and nurture.
With a newfound sense of purpose burning within him, Tom made a decision. He would find Genevieve, he would seek her counsel, and together, they would face whatever challenges lay ahead. For in Genevieve, he saw not only a friend, but a kindred spirit â someone who understood the complexities of his soul, someone who saw beyond the mask of darkness he wore. She had believed in him when no one else did, and now he needed to believe in himself and the possibility of redemption.
He rose from his seat, the journal clutched tightly in his hand, and set off to find Genevieve. The corridors of Hogwarts were silent, the stillness of the Yule break amplifying the sound of his footsteps. Each step was a testament to his resolve, a declaration that he was ready to confront the truth and forge a new path forward. The journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with challenges and inner demons, but with Genevieve by his side, he felt a flicker of hope.
As he approached the common room where he knew she would be, Tom's heart pounded with anticipation. He paused at the door, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. Genevieve looked up from her seat by the fire, her eyes widening in surprise.Â
"Tom?" she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.
"Genevieve," he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. "I need to talk to youâŠI need your help."
She studied him for a moment, her eyes softening with understanding. "Of course, Tom. I'm here."
Genevieve led Tom through the winding paths of the Forbidden Forest, the familiar crunch of leaves underfoot and the occasional rustle of hidden creatures providing a soundtrack to their journey. The deeper they ventured, the more the ancient trees seemed to lean in, as if eager to witness the unfolding of something magical.
"This way," Genevieve said softly, her voice a gentle guide through the dense undergrowth. She held Tom's hand, guiding him with a sureness that spoke of countless visits to this hidden sanctuary. Tom followed, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to a rare sense of anticipation.
As they reached a secluded clearing, Genevieve paused, taking a moment to breathe in the familiar scents of earth and foliage. She turned to Tom, her eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. "I want to show you something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Tom nodded, his curiosity piqued. He watched as Genevieve closed her eyes, a look of deep concentration settling on her features. She raised her hands, palms facing outward, and began to murmur an incantation. The air around them seemed to hum with energy, and the ground beneath their feet responded to her call.
Slowly, the trees around them began to bend and weave together, forming a protective canopy overhead. Flowers of every hue burst forth from the forest floor, their vibrant colors painting a breathtaking tapestry. Delicate spider lilies adorned Genevieve, their ethereal glow adding to the otherworldly beauty of the scene. A soft, yellow luminescence suffused the clearing, casting a warm, magical light.
Tom watched in awe as the sanctuary took shape, the full extent of Genevieve's power and creativity on display. He had always known she was gifted, but this was something extraordinary. His heart swelled with a mixture of admiration and something deeper, something he had tried to deny for far too long.
In the depths of the Forbidden Forest, where the ancient trees whispered secrets and the air crackled with magic, Tom Riddle found himself standing before Genevieve, his heart laid bare. "Genevieve," he began, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "there's something I need to tell you. Something I've realized, something I've been trying to deny for far too long."
Genevieve looked at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What is it, Tom?"
Taking a deep breath, Tom gathered his courage and spoke from the depths of his soul. "I admire you, Genevieve. More than words can express. More than I ever thought possible for me." Genevieve's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never expected to hear such words from Tom, never dared to hope that he could feel such deep emotions.
"But how can that be?" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. "You've always... I never thought..."
Tom reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. "I know I've been distant, cold even. I know I have no reason for you to believe me⊠But you, Genevieve, you broke through the walls I've built around my heart since the day I met you on the train⊠You showed me that I'm capable of feeling, in a way I never thought possible. I admire your strength, courage, and wisdom. Youâre much stronger than I could ever be, with everything youâve dealt with⊠I wish I could say that I am the man you deserve but Iâm not. You deserve someone better than me, but I am a selfish man. I donât think I can bear thinking of you with someone else⊠I just want you.â
Tears welled in Genevieve's eyes as she listened to Tom's heartfelt confession. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of the forest and the enchantment of their shared sanctuary, she knew that she felt the same way.
"I love you too, Tom," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. And then, without another word, they leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender kiss that ignited a fire within their souls. As they kissed, flowers bloomed around them, and spider lilies danced in the gentle breeze. In the garden-like sanctuary built by Genevieve, in the heart of the Forbidden Forest, a place where both Tom and she escaped in the midst of the chaos that brewed at Hogwarts, they found solace. In that moment, Tom and Genevieve knew that they were meant to be together, bound by a love that transcended time and space, and that nothing could ever tear them apart.
Genevieve approached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, her heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. It had been months since she last saw Gellert, her father, and the prospect of their secret meeting filled her with a sense of purpose. As she neared the designated spot, she saw his tall, imposing figure waiting in the shadows.
"Pops," she greeted softly, her voice barely carrying over the rustle of leaves.
Gellert Grindelwald turned, a rare smile breaking across his stern features. "Genevieve, my dear. It's good to see you."
She stepped closer. "I have news. About father and the Minister."
Gellert's expression darkened at the mention of Albus Dumbledore, his old adversary. "What have you learned?" Genevieve took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "I overheard a meeting between him and the Minister. They're becoming increasingly suspicious of your movements. They're planning to intensify their efforts to locate and stop you."
Gellert's eyes narrowed, his mind racing with possibilities. "And what exactly did they discuss?"
"They discussed a plan to deploy more Aurors to areas where they suspect you have strongholds. They also mentioned using Legilimency to try to track down your followers." Genevieve paused, gauging her father's reaction. "Father seemed particularly intent on preventing any further recruitment into your cause."
Gellert's face hardened. "Of course he would be. He fears the power of a united wizarding world. But we cannot let him succeed. We need to stay one step ahead."
Genevieve nodded. Gellert placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm. "You have done well, Genevieve. Your efforts are invaluable to our cause. But remember, this is a dangerous game we're playing. You must be vigilant."
"I understand, Father," she replied, her voice steady. "But what are you going to do next?
Gellert's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light. "Iâll need to create distractions, draw their attention away âŠAnd we must continue to gather allies, those who believe in our vision for a better world."
Genevieve's mind raced with possibilities. "I can spread misinformation, lead them on false trails. And I can continue to gather intelligence from within Hogwarts." Gellert nodded approvingly. "Yes, that will be crucial. But be careful. Dumbledore is cunning. He will suspect any unusual behavior."
"I'll be careful," Genevieve promised. "But I won't let him stop us."
Gellert's expression softened slightly, a rare moment of paternal pride shining through. "I trust you, Genevieve. Together, we will change the world. I'll keep you updated," Gellert said finally, stepping back. "Until then, my dear. Be safe."
With a final nod, she turned and made her way back towards Hogwarts, her mind already plotting their next move. She knew that the road ahead would be fraught with peril, but she was ready. For her father, for their cause, she would face whatever came their way.
Tom Riddle stood in the dimly lit room of an abandoned manor house, its grandeur now faded and shrouded in darkness. Around him, a group of young menâhis closest followersâgathered in a tight circle. They were the Knights of Walpurgis, handpicked by Tom for their ambition, cunning, and unwavering loyalty. Each one of them wore a silver serpent pendant, a symbol of their allegiance to Tom and the cause he had envisioned.
The room was silent, save for the crackling of a small fire in the hearth. Tom's piercing gaze swept over each face, ensuring he had their full attention. His presence was magnetic, commanding respect and fear in equal measure.
"Tonight," Tom began, his voice smooth and cold, "we stand at the threshold of a new era. Our generation has the potential to reshape the wizarding world, to rise above the mediocrity that has plagued it for centuries."
Abraxas Malfoy, standing to Tom's right, nodded eagerly. "We've already begun to sow the seeds of change, Tom. Our influence is growing within the Ministry, and more wizards are beginning to see the truth of your vision."
Tom's lips curled into a faint smile. "Indeed, Abraxas. But we must not be complacent. Our goals extend far beyond mere influence. We seek to establish a new order, one where the pure-blooded wizarding families reclaim their rightful place at the top. A world where power and bloodline are respected above all."
Rosier, his dark eyes gleaming with ambition, leaned forward. "What is our next step, Tom? How do we ensure our vision becomes reality?"
Tom's gaze hardened. "We must act decisively and strategically. First, we need to consolidate our power within Hogwarts. Our younger members must be groomed to take key positions within the school. From there, we will extend our reach into the Ministry, ensuring our allies are placed in influential roles."
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Tom continued, his voice growing more fervent. "We will also begin to acquire powerful magical artifacts. Objects that can amplify our abilities, give us an edge over our enemies. And we must not forget the importance of fear. The wizarding world must know that to oppose us is to invite destruction."
Nott, a lean and calculating figure, raised an eyebrow. "And what of Dumbledore? He remains a significant obstacle. His influence and power are considerable."
Tom's expression darkened at the mention of the Hogwarts headmaster. "Dumbledore is a formidable opponent, but he is not invincible. We will undermine his authority, sow discord among his supporters. And when the time is right, we will strike. But for now, we must be patient and meticulous in our actions."
The room fell silent, each member absorbing the weight of Tom's words. They knew the risks involved, but their loyalty to Tom was unwavering. He had promised them power, respect, and a place in the new world he envisioned.
"Remember," Tom said, his voice now a soft, menacing whisper, "we are the architects of the future. Our actions will be the foundation upon which the new wizarding order is built. Together, we will achieve greatness. We will become legends."
The Knights of Walpurgis raised their wands in unison, a silent pledge of their commitment to Tom and the cause. As the meeting concluded, they filed out of the room, each one carrying the weight of their shared ambition and the knowledge of the darkness that lay ahead. Tom remained behind, staring into the flickering flames of the hearth. His mind raced with plans and possibilities. He was determined to leave his mark on the world, to transcend the limitations of his birth and become the most powerful wizard in history. And with the Knights of Walpurgis by his side, he knew that his vision of the future was within his grasp.
Genevieve sat in the quiet of her dormitory, the soft glow of the evening sun casting long shadows across the room. She knew it was time to report to her father. Their relationship had always been complex, tangled with layers of secrets and unspoken truths. Today would be no different. She took a deep breath and made her way to the Headmaster's office, her mind racing with the conversation she had had with Gellert.
As she approached the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance, she whispered the password and ascended the spiral staircase. The door to Dumbledore's office stood slightly ajar, and she could hear the faint rustling of parchment within. She knocked lightly, pushing the door open when she heard his gentle voice beckon her inside.
"Genevieve, my dear," Dumbledore greeted her warmly, his eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles. "What brings you here this evening?"
Genevieve stepped into the room, her heart pounding. She closed the door behind her and took a seat opposite her father. "I spoke with Pops," she began, her voice steady but laced with underlying tension.
Dumbledore's expression remained calm, but she could see the flicker of concern in his eyes. "And how did that go?"
"I told him about your meeting with the Minister," she admitted, watching for his reaction. "I passed on the information about the increased Auror presence and the use of Legilimency."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. "And how did he react?"
"He was, as always, determined," Genevieve said, choosing her words carefully. "He believes he can stay one step ahead of you. He's planning distractions to draw your attention away from his true intentions and gathering more allies."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "And do you believe he can succeed?"
Genevieve hesitated, her loyalty torn between the two men she loved. "He is clever, and his followers are devoted. But you are always ten steps ahead, Father. I have faith in you."
Dumbledore sighed, the weight of the world evident in his tired eyes. "Genevieve, my dear, this game we play is dangerous. Your position is perilous, and your heart is torn. I wish it didn't have to be this way."
Genevieve reached across the desk, her hand resting on his. "I know, Father. But I believe in Gellert's vision for a better world. I believe in you too. I just want to help both of you."
Dumbledore's eyes softened, and he squeezed her hand gently. "I understand, Genevieve. But you must be careful. Gellert's path is fraught with darkness, and the lines between right and wrong can easily blur."
"I will be careful," she promised. "But I need you to know that I trust Gellert. He's my father too, and I believe in his cause."
Dumbledore studied her for a long moment, the silence between them heavy with unspoken emotions. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. But remember, Genevieve, the most important thing is to stay true to yourself. Do not let the darkness consume you."
"I won't," she vowed, her voice firm. "I will do whatever it takes to help both of you. I just hope you can understand that." Dumbledore's gaze was filled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. "I understand, my dear. And I trust you. Just promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise," she said softly.
With that, she rose from her seat, giving her father one last look before she turned to leave. As she walked back through the corridors of Hogwarts, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She had done what she believed was right, but the path ahead was uncertain. All she could do was hold on to her convictions and hope that, in the end, her actions would lead to the better world both of her fathers envisioned. As she made her way back to the Slytherin common room, she couldn't help but feel the weight of her dual loyalty pressing down on her. She was caught between two powerful men, each with his own vision for the future. But she was determined to find her own path, one that would honor both of her fathers while staying true to her own beliefs.
Genevieve stood at the edge of the clearing in the Forbidden Forest, the sanctuary she had created glowing softly in the moonlight. The trees formed a protective canopy above, their branches intertwined like the fingers of old friends. Flowers blossomed around her, their vibrant colors a sharp contrast to the darkness of the forest. She glanced at the path leading to the clearing, her heart heavy with anticipation and a hint of worry.
It wasn't like Tom to be late. She looked around at the sanctuary, taking comfort in the beauty of the place she had crafted with her magic. Spider lilies swayed gently in the breeze, and the luminescent glow of the flowers gave the clearing an ethereal quality. She sighed, her breath forming a small cloud in the cool night air. Finally, she heard footsteps approaching. Tom emerged from the shadows, his expression carefully composed. Genevieve's heart leaped with relief and a touch of irritation.
"You're late," she said, trying to keep her tone light but failing to mask her concern.
Tom smiled, a practiced and charming smile. "I'm sorry, Genevieve. I got caught up in...some last-minute work."
Genevieve eyed him skeptically but decided not to press the issue. She knew Tom had his secrets, and while it bothered her, she trusted him enough not to pry. Instead, she took his hand and led him further into the clearing. They settled on a patch of soft grass, the flowers around them glowing softly. Tom laid back, staring up at the night sky, while Genevieve sat beside him, her fingers playing with a nearby flower.
"Do you ever think about the future, Tom?" Genevieve asked after a long silence, her voice soft and contemplative.
Tom turned his head to look at her, his eyes reflecting the luminescent glow of the sanctuary. "All the time," he replied. "I think about the world we're going to build, the power we'll have. I think about how we'll change everything."
Genevieve nodded, her gaze distant. "And what about us? Do you think about our future?"
Tom's expression softened, and he reached out to take her hand. "Of course, I do. I want you by my side, Genevieve. Together, we'll be unstoppable."
Genevieve smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She laid down beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. "I just want to make sure we're doing the right thing," she whispered. "Sometimes, I worry about the path we're on."
Tom wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. "We'll be fine, Genevieve. We know what we're doing. We're meant for greatness." They laid there in silence, the sanctuary around them a testament to the magic and bond they shared. The night air was cool, but with Tom's arm around her, Genevieve felt a comforting warmth. Despite her lingering doubts, she wanted to believe in Tom's vision, in the future he painted for them. As the hours passed, they talked about their dreams and ambitions, about the changes they wanted to see in the wizarding world. Genevieve shared her hopes for a future where they could live free of fear and oppression, while Tom spoke passionately about power and legacy. Eventually, exhaustion overtook them, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, the sanctuary standing watch over them. For that night, at least, the outside world and its troubles seemed far away, and Genevieve allowed herself to believe that together, they could face anything.
The Great Hall was alive with the vibrant chatter of students, the long tables laden with an extravagant feast. The end-of-year celebration at Hogwarts was always a grand affair, with the enchanted ceiling reflecting a clear night sky dotted with stars. House banners draped the walls, but tonight, the green and silver of Slytherin were particularly prominent, heralding their victory in the House Cup.
Genevieve and Tom sat side by side at the Slytherin table, surrounded by their jubilant housemates. The atmosphere was electric, filled with laughter and cheers. Genevieve picked at her food, her mind elsewhere. She glanced at Tom, who was engaged in a conversation with Abraxas Malfoy and a few other Slytherins. When he caught her eye, he excused himself from the group and turned his attention to her.
âYouâve been quiet tonight,â Tom observed, his eyes searching hers.
Genevieve forced a smile. âJust thinking about the summer.â
Tom arched an eyebrow. âExcited to go back home?â
Genevieve sighed, shaking her head. âNot really. Itâs just going to be me, alone for the most part. Studying and learning advanced rune magic. My fathersâŠwell, theyâre busy with their own affairs, as usual.â
Tom's expression softened slightly, though his eyes remained calculating. âRune magic, huh? Thatâs impressive. Youâll be miles ahead of everyone by the time weâre back.â
Genevieve shrugged. âMaybe, but it feels like a hollow victory. Iâd much rather be here, with you.â She looked around the Great Hall, the festive atmosphere doing little to lift her spirits. âItâs just...I hate being alone, and at home, itâs soâŠisolating.â
Tom reached out and took her hand, his touch surprisingly gentle. âYou know, we can always write to each other. Youâre not alone, Genevieve. Besides, Iâm sure we can find ways to see each other over the summer.â
Genevieve smiled, the gesture reaching her eyes this time. âIâd like that.â
Just then, a hush fell over the hall as Dippet stood to make an announcement. The Headmasterâs eyes twinkled as he looked out over the assembled students. âAnother year has come to an end, and what a year it has been. But before we all depart for our respective homes, thereâs one last piece of business to attend to. The House Cup.â
A murmur of anticipation rippled through the hall. The hourglasses displaying the house points had been covered earlier, adding to the suspense.
âThis yearâs House Cup goes toâŠâ Headmaster Dippet paused, allowing the tension to build. âSlytherin!â The Slytherin table erupted in cheers and applause, the green and silver banners shimmering more brightly as they unfurled above them. Genevieve joined in the applause, her earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten in the wave of house pride.
Tom leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. âSee? Weâre unstoppable together.â
Genevieve laughed, a genuine sound that cut through the noise. âYes, we are.â As the celebration continued, Tom and Genevieve resumed their conversation, discussing their plans in more detail. Genevieve spoke of her rune studies, her voice tinged with a mix of excitement and dread.
âIâve been working on some ancient runes,â she said. âTheyâre fascinating, but I wish I had someone to share it with, someone who understands.â
Tom listened, his eyes thoughtful. âIâve been meaning to delve deeper into runes myself. Maybe you can teach me a few things when we meet up.â
Genevieve's eyes sparkled at the prospect. âIâd love that.â
As the night wore on and the celebration showed no signs of stopping, Genevieve felt a warmth spread through her. Despite her worries about the summer, she realized that with Tom by her side, even the loneliest days would be bearable. They had their differences, and there were still secrets between them, but in that moment, their bond felt unbreakable. When the feast finally came to an end and the students began to disperse, Tom and Genevieve lingered a little longer, savoring the last moments of the school year. As they walked back to the Slytherin common room, hand in hand, Genevieve couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. The future was uncertain, but for now, she had Tom, and that was enough.
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. Their Third Year.
WARNINGS: Some warnings worth mentioning are some dark themes (manipulation, bullying, etc.), life of a double agent (spy), lying, academic rivalry but not explicit nor extreme. Furthermore, if any of these topics are touchy or uncomfortable, do not hesitate to leave the page or chapter. As well as, if anything pops up that is not mentioned in the warnings, let me know so I can properly add it to the warnings section!
WORD COUNT: 2.2k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hehe Happy reading <333
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Chapter Nineteen
A Journey to The Past: Third Year
Third year at Hogwarts had brought with it a noticeable shift in dynamics for Tom Riddle and Genevieve Dumbledore. The friendship that had blossomed during their first year seemed a distant memory now, replaced by an unspoken chasm between them. Tom had distanced himself from everyone, including Genevieve.
Genevieve, once the enthusiastic and optimistic girl who believed in their shared journey, found herself increasingly left in the dust. She had tried to maintain their connection, approaching Tom with the same warm smiles and open conversations that had marked their early friendship, but his responses had grown colder and more dismissive with each passing day.
One day, Genevieve made her way through the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the echoes of her footsteps mingling with the distant murmurs of students. As she approached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, she noticed a commotion up ahead.
Peering around the corner, Genevieve's eyes narrowed as she saw Malfoy and a group of older Slytherins surrounding Tom, their voices dripping with contempt and superiority. Tom, ever composed, stood his ground, his expression a mask of icy indifference as he faced their taunts. His stance was firm, his jaw set in a stubborn line, but Genevieve could see the tension in his shoulders and the tight grip he had on his wand, a silent testament to his readiness to defend himself.
Without a moment's hesitation, Genevieve stepped forward, her wand held firmly in her hand as she cast the Flipendo spell at Abraxas Malfoy, sending him stumbling backward with a yelp of surprise. The other Slytherins recoiled in shock, their bullying tactics faltering in the face of Genevieve's unexpected intervention. Her presence commanded attention, her eyes blazing with a fierce determination that left no room for doubt about her intentions.
"What's going on here?" Genevieve's voice rang out, clear and authoritative. She stepped between Tom and the older students, her posture radiating confidence and defiance. "Last I checked, we were all supposed to be on the same side."
Malfoy, recovering from the spell, sneered at her. "This has nothing to do with you, Dumbledore. Riddle needs to learn his place."
Genevieve's eyes flashed with anger. "And you think you're the one to teach him that? By ganging up on him like cowards? Pathetic, just like your coward of a father."
Malfoy, argued back, visibly angry, âHow dare you talk about my father that way!â
Genevieve smiled, âOh did I hurt your feelings? Are you going to tell dear daddy about it?â
Abraxas, his arrogance momentarily deflated, scowled but made no move to challenge her further. The group slowly dispersed, muttering under their breaths, but none daring to meet her gaze.
Tom, though visibly taken aback by her interference, maintained his cool demeanor as he brushed himself off, his eyes betraying a hint of confusion, upset at the fact out of anyone, it was Genevieve who stopped them. "I could've handled it myself, Dumbledore," he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration.
Genevieve turned to him, her gaze piercing and unwavering. "I know," she replied simply, her tone leaving no room for argument. "But Slytherins protect their own. Even Malfoy should know that, Riddle."
With that, Genevieve turned on her heel and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She had acted on impulse, driven by a mix of anger and a deep-seated belief in fairness. She didn't wait to see Tom's reaction, knowing that he valued his independence and might resent her for stepping in. Yet, she couldn't ignore the sense of satisfaction that came from standing up for what she believed was right.
Tom watched her retreating figure, a sense of curiosity and admiration stirring within him, mingling with the lingering confusion of her unexpected act of solidarity. He was used to facing his battles alone, accustomed to relying solely on his own wits and abilities. Genevieve's intervention challenged that notion, introducing a new dynamic that left him both intrigued and unsettled. He was trying so hard not to associate with her, especially Dumbledore.
With a sigh, he shook his head and made his way to the library, his thoughts consumed by the enigma that was Genevieve Dumbledore. As he walked, he couldn't help but replay the scene in his mind, the way she had stood up to Malfoy and his cronies without a trace of fear. It was a rare display of courage and loyalty, qualities he hadn't expected to find in her.
Despite his initial frustration, Tom found himself reassessing his opinion of Genevieve. She was more than just a fellow Slytherin; she was someone who embodied the ideals of their house in a way that was both fierce and honorable. For the first time in a long while, Tom felt a glimmer of genuine respect for another person, a feeling he wasn't quite sure how to handle.
As he settled into a quiet corner of the library, Tom opened his book but found it difficult to focus. His thoughts kept drifting back to Genevieve, her unwavering gaze and her unyielding stance. She had defied expectations, not just his but those of their housemates as well. In a world where alliances were often fleeting and self-interest reigned supreme, her actions stood out as a beacon of something different, something potentially powerful.
Tom resolved to keep a closer eye on Genevieve, to understand what drove her and what she might bring to his own ambitions. And as much as he prized his solitude, he couldn't deny the intriguing possibility that her strength and loyalty could prove valuable allies in the future.
Genevieve made her way to her fatherâs office, her heart heavy with questions and an underlying sense of unease. The corridors of Hogwarts seemed endless, and the familiar stone walls did little to alleviate the storm of emotions within her. She had been harboring questions about Gellert for some time, and today, she was determined to get answers.
Reaching the entrance to Albus Dumbledore's office, she whispered the password, and the stone gargoyle leapt aside to reveal the spiral staircase leading to her father's domain. She ascended quickly, her footsteps echoing in the silence.
"Come in, Genevieve," Albus called as she approached the door. She stepped inside to find him seated at his desk, surrounded by stacks of parchment and ancient tomes. His eyes, though kind, seemed weighed down by unseen burdens.
"Father," she began, her voice steady but edged with uncertainty. "I need to talk to you about Pops."
Albus looked up from his work, a flicker of apprehension crossing his features. "What is it, my dear?"
Genevieve hesitated for a moment before pressing on. "Why haven't I seen him? Why is he never here? Heâs always been such a significant part of my life, and now... he's just gone."
Albus sighed, a deep and weary sound. "Gellert is pursuing his cause, Genevieve. His ambitions and his beliefs have taken him down a path that... I can no longer be a part of."
She frowned, confusion mingling with the sadness in her eyes. "But why? Why can't he be here with us? Why can't we be a family?"
Albus leaned back in his chair, his expression carefully neutral. "I have many responsibilities here at Hogwarts. My duty is to this school, to my students. Gellert has chosen a different path, one that I cannot follow. It's as simple as that."
Genevieve, still naive and trusting, nodded slowly. "I understand, Father. Itâs just... hard to accept."
Albus reached across the desk, taking her hand in his. "I know, my dear. It's hard for me as well. But we must carry on and focus on what we can do here and now."
She offered a small, resigned smile. "Of course. I'll do my best."
"Speaking of which," Albus continued, his tone shifting slightly, "I have a favor to ask of you."
Genevieve perked up, eager to help. "What is it, Father?"
Albus's eyes grew serious. "I need you to watch someone for me. Tom Riddle... he requires special attention."
Genevieve's brow furrowed in confusion. "Watch him? Why? We donât even talk anymore.â
"Tom is a complex individual," Albus explained. "He has immense potential, but he also harbors a darkness that concerns me. I believe that with the right guidance and companionship, he can be steered towards a better path. You are in a unique position to offer that companionship."
Genevieve considered his words, her mind racing. "You want me to spy on him?"
"Not necessarily a spy, but a watchful presence. Someone who can observe and influence him in subtle ways. Itâs a delicate task, but I believe you are up to itâŠdespite no longer being close as you once were."
She nodded slowly, the weight of the responsibility settling on her shoulders. "I'll do my best, Father. I'll watch Tom."
Albus smiled, a touch of relief in his eyes. "Thank you, Genevieve. Your help means more than you know."
As she left the office, Genevieve couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story about Gellert, but she trusted her father's judgment. And now, she had a new task to focus onâone that could shape the future in ways she couldn't yet comprehend.
In Transfiguration class, Genevieve focused intently on the lesson, her quill moving swiftly across her parchment as she took meticulous notes. Professor Dumbledore was explaining a complex spell, and Genevieve's mind raced to absorb every detail. She could feel Tom's eyes on her, and she knew he was watching, just as she was keeping an eye on him.
"Miss Dumbledore, if you would please demonstrate the Vanishing Spell," Professor Dumbledore called. She stood, her wand at the ready. With a graceful flick and a murmured incantation, she made the rabbit before her disappear. The class erupted in applause, but she barely registered it, her eyes flicking to Tom to gauge his reaction. Tom's expression remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of determination. When it was his turn, he executed the spell flawlessly, earning equal praise from the professor. He cast a sidelong glance at Genevieve, who met his gaze with a small, knowing smile.
In Potions class, the competition was even fiercer. Professor Slughorn had set a particularly challenging assignment: brewing a Draught of Peace. As the cauldrons bubbled and the scent of various ingredients filled the room, Genevieve and Tom worked in near silence, each trying to outpace the other. Genevieve added her ingredients with practiced precision, her eyes flicking occasionally to Tom's station. She noted his technique, mentally comparing it to her own. He was meticulous, almost obsessively so, and she couldn't help but admire his skill even as she plotted to surpass him.
Tom, for his part, was equally observant. He watched the way Genevieve measured and stirred, noting her methods. There was a subtle elegance to her work that he found both intriguing and infuriating. He wanted to outshine her, to prove that he was superior in every way. As they finished their potions, Professor Slughorn moved around the room, inspecting their work. When he reached Genevieve, he beamed. "Excellent work, Miss Dumbledore. A perfect Draught of Peace." Genevieve's heart swelled with pride, but she kept her expression calm, offering a polite nod in thanks. She glanced at Tom, who was next in line.
Slughorn examined Tom's potion, his expression one of mild surprise. "Another excellent brew, Mr. Riddle. Well done." Tom's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. He met Genevieve's gaze across the room, and for a moment, there was a flicker of mutual respect between them. Outside of class, the rivalry continued. Genevieve often found herself watching Tom, trying to decipher his intentions. He was brilliant but distant, and she couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something. She began to discreetly follow him, noting his movements and the people he spoke to.
Tom, meanwhile, was equally intrigued by Genevieve. She was talented, of that there was no doubt, but there was a lightness to her that he couldn't understand. She seemed genuinely kind, something he found perplexing in a Slytherin. He kept a close eye on her, trying to understand what drove her.
One evening, as Genevieve was leaving the library, she noticed Tom slipping into a hidden alcove. Curiosity piqued, she followed quietly, peering around the corner to see him poring over an ancient, leather-bound book. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, and she knew he was delving into something significant. She made a note to find out what that book was, her determination to uncover Tom's secrets growing stronger. She turned and walked away, careful not to make a sound.
Tom, sensing he was being watched, glanced up just in time to see Genevieve's retreating figure. He frowned, wondering how much she had seen. He knew she was curious about him, just as he was about her, and the thought both unnerved and excited him. The days turned into weeks, and their competition continued unabated. They pushed each other to excel, each silently spurring the other on to greater heights. And through it all, they remained locked in a dance of rivalry and intrigue, each determined to uncover the other's intentions while guarding their own.
SYNOPSIS: The memories of Genevieve and Tom back at Hogwarts. Part One of how they first met.
WARNINGS: Some warnings worth mentioning are some dark themes (manipulation, bullying, etc.) but not explicit nor extreme. Furthermore, if any of these topics are touchy or uncomfortable, do not hesitate to leave the page or chapter. As well as, if anything pops up that is not mentioned in the warnings, let me know so I can properly add it to the warnings section!
WORD COUNT: 6.0k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize for the long wait but with research this summer, its been a lot! But I have been writing pretty much all the parts in chunks so, be prepared for multiple posts being uploaded! Happy reading <333
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Chapter Eighteen
A Journey to The Past: The First Year
In the musty room of Wool's Orphanage, the air was thick with tension and the faint, lingering scent of fear. The sun had long since set, casting elongated shadows across the cold, stone floor. Tom sat on the edge of his narrow bed, his dark eyes fixed on the door, listening intently for any sign of approaching footsteps. His heart still raced from the earlier confrontation, a mix of exhilaration and anger coursing through his veins. He had sent the snake, a creature he seemed to have an innate connection with, to attack the older boys who had been tormenting him. He could still hear their screams and the frantic commotion as the snake slithered after them, its fangs bared.
The matron, Mrs. Cole, had found him almost immediately after the incident, her face pale and pinched with fear and anger. She had dragged him up the stairs, her grip painfully tight on his arm, and thrown him into this room, locking the door with a final, resounding click. Now, the only sounds were the distant murmur of the other children settling for the night and the steady drip of a leaky faucet somewhere down the hall.
Tom's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. He knew he was different from the other children â he had known it for as long as he could remember. But today was different. Today, he had felt a surge of power, a sense of control that he had never experienced before. He had commanded the snake with his mind, willed it to attack, and it had obeyed without question.
A small, twisted smile played at the corners of his lips as he replayed the scene in his mind. He reveled in the memory of the fear in the older boys' eyes, the way they had scrambled and screamed. They would think twice before bullying him again. But alongside the satisfaction, there was a gnawing unease. He had always been able to do things, strange things, but this was different. As the hours dragged on, the oppressive silence of the room began to weigh on him. He lay back on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling, his mind still racing. He didn't know how long he would be locked in here, but he knew one thing for certain â he would not be broken. He was stronger than them, all of them, and he would find a way to prove it.
A soft hiss broke the silence, and Tom sat up, his eyes scanning the room. In the dim light, he saw the familiar, sinuous form of the snake he had summoned earlier. It slithered across the floor towards him, its tongue flickering in and out, tasting the air. Tom reached out a hand, and the snake coiled around his arm, its cool scales a comforting contrast to the harshness of the room.
"Hello, my friend," Tom whispered, a strange sense of calm washing over him as he watched the snake. "Did you enjoy our little game?" The snake's eyes glinted in the faint light, and Tom felt a connection, a bond that was deeper than anything he had ever experienced. It was as if he could understand the snake, and it could understand him. He knew, in that moment, that he was not alone.
The wind swept through the overgrown garden, rustling the leaves of ancient trees that had stood watch over generations. The old stone manor was silent, its shadows long in the late afternoon sun. In a secluded corner of the estate, a young girl stood poised, wand in hand, her face a mask of determination.Â
Genevieve was not like other children her age. At eleven years old, she already possessed a keen understanding of magic, thanks in large part to the rigorous tutelage of her father, Gellert Grindelwald. Today, as with many days, they stood in their makeshift dueling ring, a small clearing surrounded by hedges that shielded them from prying eyes.
âAgain,â Gellert commanded, his voice cool and unyielding. He stood tall, his presence imposing despite his deceptively calm demeanor. His eyes, sharp and assessing, never left his daughter as she prepared to cast her spell. Genevieve's fingers tightened around her wand, her knuckles white with the effort. She raised her arm, her mind racing through the incantations she had practiced endlessly. âExpelliarmus!â she shouted, the tip of her wand glowing with the spell's energy.
Gellert deflected the spell effortlessly with a flick of his own wand. âYou must focus, Genevieve. Your opponent will not give you a second chance.â
She nodded, her face flushed with frustration but also with the drive to improve. She adjusted her stance, feet firmly planted on the ground. Her father's relentless training was something she both resented and cherished. It was his way of preparing her for the harsh realities of their world.
âProtego!â she cast the shielding spell, her voice steady, the barrier shimmering into existence before her.
Gellert wasted no time, sending a series of hexes and jinxes her way. The air crackled with the energy of their duel, each spell lighting up the twilight with brief flashes. Genevieve blocked and deflected as best as she could, her movements growing more fluid with each encounter.
Though, Gellert was relentless. He sent a particularly strong stunning spell her way, and Genevieve, though quick, was a fraction too slow. The spell hit her shield, shattering it and sending her sprawling onto the ground. Her wand flew from her hand, landing several feet away.
Gellert approached her slowly, his expression unreadable. âDo you yield?â he asked, his tone demanding nothing but absolute resolve.
Genevieve, gasping for breath, shook her head. She reached out for her wand, the grass cool and damp under her fingers. She felt the familiar warmth of the wood as she gripped it once more, pushing herself back to her feet.
âI do not yield,â she said, her voice firm despite the trembling in her limbs. She raised her wand again, ready to continue.
Gellert's eyes flickered with a rare hint of approval. âVery well. Show me your strength.â
Genevieve steeled herself, drawing upon the last reserves of her energy. She visualized her spell, focusing on the intent behind it. âStupefy!â she cried, sending the stunning spell straight towards her father.
This time, Gellert did not block it. Instead, he sidestepped, dodging the spell with ease. He retaliated with a non-verbal incantation, a powerful spell that crackled through the air with an almost palpable force.
Genevieve tried to shield herself, but exhaustion had slowed her reflexes. The spell struck her squarely in the chest, knocking the breath out of her. She crumpled to the ground, her vision swimming.
âEnough,â Gellert said, his voice softer now. He approached her, kneeling beside her as she struggled to sit up. âYou have done enough for today.â
She looked up at him, her chest heaving. âI wasnât strong enough,â she said, frustration lacing her words.
He shook his head, a rare gentleness in his gaze. âStrength is not merely about power, my dear. It is about resilience, the will to keep going despite the odds. You did not yield, and that is where true strength lies.â
Genevieve nodded, absorbing his words. She accepted his offered hand, and he helped her to her feet. Despite the pain and exhaustion, a sense of pride blossomed within her. She had faced her father, one of the most powerful wizards of their time, and had not given up.
âCome,â Gellert said, guiding her towards the manor. âYou need rest. We will continue another day.â
As they walked, Genevieve leaned on her father, feeling the warmth of his presence. She knew their training would only become more challenging, but she was determined to grow stronger, to live up to his expectations and her own. For now, though, she allowed herself a moment of reprieve, the bond between father and daughter a quiet comfort in the fading light of day.
Tom Riddle sat in his small, sparsely furnished room at Wool's Orphanage, staring out the window at the dreary, rain-soaked streets of London. The other children had long since given up trying to befriend him. His strange, inexplicable abilities frightened them, and they whispered behind his back, calling him a freak. Tom didn't care. He knew he was different, special. The other children were beneath him, mere insects in his path.Â
A knock at the door interrupted his brooding thoughts. He turned, his dark eyes narrowing. Mrs. Cole, the matron of the orphanage, stood in the doorway, a severe look on her face. Next to her was an older man with long silver hair and a beard, dressed in strange, old-fashioned robes.
"Tom," Mrs. Cole said sharply, "this is Professor Dumbledore. Heâs come to speak with you." Tom's mind raced. Who was this man? A doctor come to lock him away in a psychiatric institution? His jaw tightened. He wouldn't let that happen.Â
"Professor," Tom repeated, his voice dripping with skepticism. "What do you teach?"
Dumbledore stepped forward, his blue eyes twinkling with an unsettling calm. "I teach at a school for people like you, Tom. People with unusual abilities."
Tom's eyes narrowed further. "A school for freaks, you mean?"
"Not at all," Dumbledore replied smoothly. "A school for wizards." Tom's skepticism turned to intrigue. A school for wizards? Could it be that there was an explanation for the strange things he could do?
Dumbledore smiled slightly, as if sensing Tom's thoughts. "Yes, Tom. You are a wizard."
Tom's heart leapt. For the first time, he felt a spark of hope and excitement. "Prove it," he demanded, his voice eager but guarded.Â
Dumbledore's smile widened. With a flick of his wand, the wardrobe in Tom's room burst into flames. Tom gasped, stepping back, but the flames did not consume the wood. Instead, they danced harmlessly, illuminating the room with a warm glow.
Tomâs eyes widened. "How did you do that?" he whispered.
"It's magic," Dumbledore said simply. With another flick of his wand, the flames vanished as quickly as they had appeared. "And you, Tom, have magic too."
Tom swallowed, his mind racing. This explained so muchâthe strange incidents, the things he could do that no one else could. "I knew I was different," he muttered to himself, then looked up at Dumbledore. "So, what do you want with me?"
Dumbledore's expression grew serious. "You have great potential, Tom. But you must learn to control your abilities and use them responsibly. At Hogwarts, you will be taught how to harness your magic, but there are rules and expectations."
Tom's eyes flickered with defiance. "I don't need to be controlled."
"Discipline is necessary," Dumbledore said firmly. "Speaking of which, I believe you have some items that do not belong to you."
Tom's face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Dumbledore's gaze did not waver. "Open your wardrobe."
Tom hesitated, then slowly approached the wardrobe. He opened it, revealing a small collection of trinkets and items he had stolen from the other children. He turned back to Dumbledore, his face set in a scowl.
"You will return these items to their owners," Dumbledore said calmly. "And I will know if you do not."
Tom's anger flared, but he could see that Dumbledore was not to be trifled with. He nodded reluctantly. "Fine."
Dumbledore's expression softened slightly. "Good. Now, let me give you all the information you need to prepare for Hogwarts. You will need to gather your school supplies, and here is how you will get to Diagon Alley."
Tom listened intently as Dumbledore explained everything. Despite his anger and resentment, he couldn't help but feel a growing excitement. This was his chance to escape the orphanage, to prove that he was special. As Dumbledore finished, Tom decided to reveal one more secret. "I can speak to snakes," he said quietly, watching Dumbledore's reaction closely.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered with surprise and curiosity. "Is that so? Fascinating. That is a rare ability, Tom, even among wizards. It is called Parseltongue."
Tom felt a surge of pride. He was rare, special. "Will that help me at Hogwarts?"
"It may," Dumbledore said, his tone thoughtful. "But remember, Tom, with great power comes great responsibility. Use your abilities wisely."
Tom nodded, though inside, his mind was already racing with possibilities. He would go to Hogwarts. He would learn everything he could about magic. And he would show everyone just how powerful he truly was. As Dumbledore turned to leave, he glanced back at Tom. "I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, Tom."
Tom watched him go, a determined glint in his eyes. This was the beginning of something new, something extraordinary. And he would seize it with both hands.
Genevieve sat cross-legged on the floor of her father Albus Dumbledore's study, her eyes wide with excitement. The room was filled with the smell of aged parchment and the soft glow of candlelight, casting dancing shadows on the walls lined with ancient books and mysterious artifacts. Albus Dumbledore, in his elaborate robes, sat in an armchair, his piercing blue eyes twinkling as he regarded his eager daughter.
"Father," Genevieve said, her voice filled with anticipation, "can we practice that advanced Transfiguration spell again? The one where you turn objects into animals?"
Albus smiled warmly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Of course, Genevieve. But remember, Transfiguration requires not just skill, but also concentration and intent. You must focus on the object and truly visualize the transformation."
Genevieve nodded vigorously, her face determined. She picked up a small, plain teacup from the table beside her and placed it on the floor. Albus watched as she closed her eyes, her brow furrowing in concentration. She raised her wand, murmuring the incantation under her breath. With a flick of her wrist, the teacup began to shimmer and warp, transforming into a small, hopping frog.
Genevieve's eyes flew open in delight. "I did it!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.
Albus chuckled, his heart swelling with pride. "Very well done, my dear. Your progress is remarkable."
Genevieve's smile faltered slightly as she looked up at her father. "Father, I'm so excited to attend Hogwarts. But there's something I've been wondering about."
Albus raised an eyebrow, his expression curious. "Oh? And what might that be?"
"Why don't I ever get to see you and Pops spend time with me together?" Genevieve asked, her tone innocent but tinged with sadness. "I know you're both very important and busy, but it feels like you always have separate matters to attend to."
Albus's smile faded just a touch, replaced by a look of gentle sorrow. He sighed, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Genevieve, Gellert and I have indeed tried to spend more time with you together. But our individual responsibilities often keep us apart. We both have important work to do, and sometimes that means we can't be in the same place at the same time."
Genevieve looked down at the frog she had transfigured, her fingers gently tracing its smooth back. "I understand, Father. I just... I miss you both."
Albus's heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He leaned forward, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. "I know, my dear. And I promise, we both love you very much. We are always thinking of you, even when we can't be with you."
Genevieve nodded, a small smile returning to her face. "Thank you, Father. I just wish things were different sometimes."
Albus nodded, understanding her feelings more than she realized. "We all do, Genevieve. But remember, you are destined for great things. Your time at Hogwarts will be filled with wonder and discovery. You will make friends, learn incredible magic, and become the remarkable witch you are meant to be."
Genevieve's eyes sparkled with renewed excitement. "I can't wait, Father. I want to learn everything I can. Maybe one day, I can help you and Gellert with your important work."
Albus smiled, a mixture of pride and a touch of sadness in his eyes. "I have no doubt you will, Genevieve. Now, shall we try another Transfiguration spell?"
Genevieve's face lit up with enthusiasm. "Yes, please!"
As they continued their practice, Albus couldn't help but marvel at his daughter's potential. He knew that her journey was just beginning, and despite the complexities of their lives.
Tom Riddle stood at the entrance of Wool's Orphanage, his suitcase in one hand and a letter in the other. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale light over the quiet street. He took a deep breath, savoring the moment. This was the day he had been waiting forâthe day he would leave this place behind and start a new chapter of his life.
The journey to King's Cross Station was uneventful, the rattling of the tram and the bustling noise of London providing a stark contrast to the silence that had often filled his life at the orphanage. When he arrived at the station, he carefully followed the instructions Dumbledore had given him. Platform 9Ÿ. It sounded absurd, but Tom was accustomed to the unusual.
He observed the station with sharp, calculating eyes, noting the flow of travelers. His gaze fell upon a family of redheadsâchildren chattering excitedly as they pushed their trolleys towards the barrier between platforms nine and ten. They disappeared in a blink, and Tom's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Clutching his suitcase, he walked briskly towards the barrier and, without hesitating, stepped through.
The sight that greeted him on the other side was a marvel. The platform was alive with color and sound, the scarlet steam engine of the Hogwarts Express billowing smoke into the crisp morning air. Wizarding families crowded the platform, their voices merging into a cacophony that Tom found grating. He navigated through the crowd with a scowl, annoyance prickling at the back of his mind.
He observed the families around him, noting their affectionate farewells and animated conversations. A pang of something akin to jealousy flickered through him, quickly suppressed by his disdain. He was better off alone, he told himself. He didnât need anyone.
Tom found an empty compartment towards the rear of the train. He stowed his suitcase above the seat and settled in, pulling out a book he had borrowed from Dumbledoreâs library on their first meeting. It was a book on the history of magic, a subject that intrigued him deeply. He began to read, losing himself in the words and the promise of power they held.
The noise outside the compartment was muffled but persistent. Childrenâs laughter, parents calling out last-minute instructions, the occasional whistle of the trainâit all seemed so trivial to Tom. He focused on the text before him, absorbing the knowledge with an intensity that belied his age.
Genevieve stood on the platform at King's Cross Station, filled with excitement and nerves. It was September 1st, 1938, and it was her first day to go to Hogwarts. Her father, Albus Dumbledore, stood beside her, his presence comforting amidst the bustling crowd of students and families. However, there was a slight bit of disappointment that Gellert was not here to send her off. She had told him to attend both her and her father, but nevertheless, he was not there.Â
"Are you ready, my dear?" Albus asked, his blue eyes gentle as he looked down at his daughter.
Genevieve nodded, filled with anticipation and uncertainty swirling within her. "I think so, Father," she replied softly, clutching her trunk tightly.
As they approached the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten, Genevieve glanced up at her father, a question lingering on her lips. "Father, where's Pops?" she inquired, searching the crowd for any sign of her other father, Gellert.
Albus's expression softened, a hint of sadness flickering in his eyes. "He couldn't make it today, my dear," he explained gently. "He's busy with other matters."
Genevieve's shoulders slumped slightly, disappointment tugging at her heart. She had hoped that Gellert would be there to bid her goodbye, but she understood that his duties often took him away. They both walked through the barrier, where they were engulfed by various families rushing and running around, ready to send their children to their new home for a while.
Albus knelt down to her height, a small smile playing on his lips as he reached into his pocket. "Here," he said, offering her a lemon drop candy. "For the journey."
Genevieve's face brightened at the sight of the sweet treat, and she accepted it with a grateful smile. She hugged her father tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping her.
"Good luck, my dear," Albus whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I know you'll do great things at Hogwarts."
With a final wave and a whispered goodbye, Genevieve boarded the train, her heart filled with a mixture of excitement and sadness. As the train pulled away from the platform, she watched her father's figure fade into the distance, a sense of adventure and anticipation swelling within her.
As the Hogwarts Express chugged along the tracks, Genevieve stood by the window of one of the train cars, waving goodbye to her father until the bustling station disappeared from view. A sense of excitement mingled with nervousness bubbled within her as she realized she was truly on her way to Hogwarts.
"Um, excuse me," Genevieve said softly, her voice carrying a hint of hesitation. "Do you mind if I sit here?"
The boy glanced up from his book, a scowl forming on his lips as he prepared to admonish her for interrupting his reading. However, as his gaze met hers, he froze, captivated by the mesmerizing sight of her two-colored eyes.
After a moment of silence, the boy's expression softened, and he nodded slightly. "Uh, sure, go ahead," he muttered, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.
Genevieve offered him a grateful smile as she moved to sit down. "Thank you," she said softly, smoothing her robes as she settled into her seat. "I'm Genevieve Ariana Grindelwald Dumbledore. It's a pleasure to meet you."
The boy regarded her skeptically for a moment before reluctantly introducing himself. "Tom Riddle," he replied, his tone guarded as he recalled Albus Dumbledore, wondering why his spawn was wanting to sit next to him.Â
Genevieve nodded politely, unfazed by his cautious demeanor. "Nice to meet you, Tom," she said, her smile warm and genuine. "Are you a first year as well?."
Tom, caught off guard by her continued conversation, reluctantly nodded. "Yes," he replied tersely, wondering why she seemed so intent on speaking to him.
Genevieve's smile remained undiminished by his reticence. "I hope we are in the same house," she remarked optimistically.
Tom merely nodded in response, hoping that she would take the hint and allow him to return to his book. He had little interest in engaging in conversation, especially with someone he had just met. Sensing his desire for silence, Genevieve turned her attention to the window, watching the scenery whiz by as the train sped towards Hogwarts. They sat in companionable silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts.
However, after a time, Genevieve began to grow restless. Bored of staring out the window, she decided to practice a bit of magic to pass the time. With a flick of her wand and a whispered incantation, she conjured up a delicate lily flower in her hand. Tom, though he tried to maintain his facade of disinterest, couldn't help but be impressed by her display of magic. He watched in silent awe as she performed the spell with ease, his curiosity piqued despite himself. As Genevieve's attention returned to the flower in her hand, she glanced at Tom, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
Tom, despite his best efforts to remain indifferent, was impressed. He watched the spell with silent awe, his curiosity piqued. Genevieve glanced at him, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "It's just a simple spell," she said modestly.
Tom nodded, unable to hide his interest. "Where did you learn that?" he asked, his tone more curious than he intended.
"My father taught me," she replied. "Both of them, actually. They want me to be well-prepared for Hogwarts."
Tom's mind whirled with questions. Both of them? What kind of family did she come from? And why did she seem so intent on talking to him? He found himself wanting to know more, despite his initial reluctance.
As the train continued its journey to Hogwarts, Tom watched Genevieve with a mix of curiosity and suspicion. She was a mystery, one he intended to unravel. For now, he would listen, learn, and bide his time. She might hold the key to understanding more about this new world, and he was determined to uncover every secret it had to offer.
As Genevieve's name was called, she felt a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through her veins. Walking up to the front of the Great Hall, she took a deep breath, her eyes scanning the room as she approached the Sorting Hat. The enchanted ceiling above mirrored the night sky, twinkling stars casting a serene glow over the sea of eager faces. She could see her father, Albus Dumbledore, at the staff table, his expression composed yet subtly encouraging.
Genevieve sat on the stool, and the ancient hat was placed upon her head. It seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if pondering her fate. The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. Then, finally, the hat proclaimed, "Slytherin!" A wave of happiness washed over Genevieve. She had hoped for Slytherin, the house known for its ambition and resourcefulness, traits she admired deeply.
She made her way to the Slytherin table, where she was greeted warmly by some of her new housemates. The silver and green of their robes shimmered in the candlelight, and the table erupted in applause. However, she couldn't help but notice the absence of the usual sparkle in her father's eyes as he applauded her sorting from the staff table. A fleeting shadow of concern crossed his face before he masked it with a polite smile.
As the sorting continued, Genevieve's attention was drawn to a particular student to be sorted, Tom Riddle, whom she sat with on the train. She watched intently as he approached the Sorting Hat, his demeanor calm and composed. To her surprise, the hat wasted no time in proclaiming "Slytherin" for Tom as well. Genevieve joined in the applause, clapping enthusiastically along with some of her fellow Slytherins.
However, her joy was short-lived as she noticed the disdainful glares directed towards Tom from some of the pureblood students. One particularly vocal boy, Abraxas Malfoy, sneered and leaned towards his friends. "A Muggleborn in Slytherin? How disgraceful," he muttered loudly enough for those around him to hear.
Genevieve felt a surge of anger. Without hesitation, she confronted Abraxas, her voice clear and unwavering. "He was sorted into Slytherin because he belongs here, just like the rest of us. His heritage does not define his worth."
Abraxas faltered under her unwavering gaze, silenced by her unexpected defiance. The other Slytherins around them watched with a mix of surprise and approval. Tom, meanwhile, observed the scene with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, his curiosity about the girl who had come to his defense piqued even further.
Abraxas, recovering slightly, tried to retort, "And who are you to decide who belongs here?"
Genevieve's eyes flashed. "I am Genevieve Dumbledore, and I believe in respect. If you have a problem with that, then perhaps it's you who doesn't belong here."
A murmur rippled through the table at the mention of her full name, a name that carried weight and history. Abraxas, clearly taken aback, muttered something unintelligible and looked away, effectively ending the confrontation.
Tom watched as Genevieve sat back down, her expression calm but resolute. He couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and admiration for her. In a world that often judged him harshly, she had stood up for him without hesitation. As the sorting ceremony continued and the Great Hall filled with the excited chatter of new students, Tom felt a spark of hope. Perhaps Hogwarts would be different. Perhaps, with allies like Genevieve, he could truly find a place where he belonged.
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of introductions and celebrations. As the feast drew to a close, Genevieve caught Tom's eye from across the table and offered him a small, reassuring smile. He returned it with a nod, silently vowing to himself that he would prove his worth to those who doubted him and to the girl who had believed in him from the start.
Genevieve walked briskly through the corridors of Hogwarts, her heart racing with excitement and nerves. Today, she will be receiving her first-year Transfiguration exam results. The class was taught by none other than her father, Albus Dumbledore, which made the stakes feel even higher. She wanted to make him proud, to earn his validation, and to show that she was capable and worthy of her name.
As she entered the Transfiguration classroom, the familiar sight of students chatting and settling into their seats greeted her. She spotted Tom Riddle already seated at his desk, engrossed in a book as usual. She gave him a small nod of acknowledgment before taking her seat beside him.
The room gradually quieted down as Professor Dumbledore entered, his presence commanding yet kind. He carried a stack of parchment in his hands, the results of their recent exam. Genevieve's nerves intensified, but she kept a composed expression, determined to face whatever the outcome might be.
"Good morning, class," Dumbledore greeted warmly. "I have your Transfiguration exam results here. I must say, I am very impressed with the overall performance. Well done, all of you."
He began calling out names, handing each student their marked exams. Genevieve's heart pounded louder with each passing name, until finally, "Genevieve Dumbledore."
She walked up to her father, her steps steady, and accepted the parchment from his hands. Their eyes met briefly, and she saw a flicker of pride in his eyes. Returning to her seat, she unfolded the parchment with trembling fingers and saw the grade written at the top: Outstanding. A bright smile spread across her face, her hard work and dedication had paid off.
Tom glanced over at her, his expression unreadable. He then looked down at his own exam results. There, in neat script, was an E for Exceeds Expectations. He felt a pang of jealousy, but he quickly masked it, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.
"Congratulations, Genevieve," Tom said, his tone measured and polite. "An Outstanding is quite an achievement."
Genevieve beamed at him, her excitement palpable. "Thank you, Tom! I'm really happy with the result. I put in a lot of effort, and it feels great to see it pay off."
Tom nodded, forcing a smile. "You deserve it. Well done."
Inwardly, Tom was marking her as an academic rival. She had outperformed him, and while he respected her abilities, he couldn't help but feel a competitive edge sharpening. Genevieve, however, remained oblivious to his internal calculations, her focus entirely on her achievement and the pride she hoped her father felt for her.
As Professor Dumbledore continued handing out results, Genevieve's thoughts were a whirlwind of joy and relief. She had proven herself in her father's subject, a significant milestone in her journey at Hogwarts. Tom, on the other hand, was already planning his next steps, determined to surpass her in the future. For now, he would congratulate her and watch, waiting for his moment to rise above.
After class, as students filed out, Genevieve lingered for a moment, catching her father's eye. "Thank you for the lesson, Professor Dumbledore," she said formally, but with a hint of personal pride in her voice.
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with warmth. "You did exceptionally well, Genevieve. Keep up the hard work."
She nodded, her heart swelling with joy at his words. As she and Tom walked out of the classroom together, she felt a newfound confidence. Hogwarts was a place of learning and growth, and she was ready to embrace every challenge that came her way.
Tom walked beside her, his thoughts a complex mixture of admiration and determination. Genevieve was a formidable student, but he was resolved to prove that he could be even more formidable. As they made their way to their next class, an unspoken rivalry began to take shape, setting the stage for many future challenges and triumphs.
The Great Hall was abuzz with excitement as the final feast of the school year commenced. Banners in green and silver adorned the walls, celebrating Slytherin's victory in the House Cup. The long tables groaned under the weight of an extravagant feast, and the air was filled with the sounds of clinking cutlery, jubilant chatter, and laughter.
Genevieve sat among her fellow Slytherins, her face alight with triumph. She had worked hard all year, and their house had finally won. She glanced over at Tom, who sat quietly beside her, his expression reserved as always. Despite his usual aloofness, she had come to see him as a friend and was eager to share in their victory.
"Isn't it fantastic, Tom?" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm evident. "We won! I knew we could do it."
Tom looked up from his plate, offering her a small, forced smile. "Yes, it's quite an achievement," he replied, his tone measured.
Genevieve, caught up in the moment, leaned in to give him a celebratory hug. "I'm so happy! We did it together!"
But before she could embrace him, Tom stiffened and held up a hand, his expression turning cold. "Don't," he said bluntly. "I don't like to be touched."
Genevieve paused, a bit taken aback, but quickly recovered, rolling her eyes playfully. "Alright, alright," she said, still smiling. "No hugs for you then." She settled back in her seat, her spirits undamped. "I can't wait to win again next year," she continued, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "And I'm so looking forward to going home for the summer. It'll be nice to have a break, but I'll miss Hogwarts."
Tom nodded, forcing another smile. "Yes, it'll be nice to have a break," he echoed. In truth, he dreaded returning to Wool's Orphanage, but he didn't want to bring down Genevieve's mood. She was so full of life and excitement; he couldn't bear to spoil it for her.
"I'm sure next year will be even better," Genevieve went on, her optimism unwavering. "We'll come back stronger and win the House Cup again. Maybe you'll even warm up to the idea of a hug by then."
Tom's smile became slightly more genuine, despite himself. "Maybe," he said, though he doubted it. As the feast continued, Genevieve chatted happily with their housemates, basking in the glory of their victory. Tom listened, contributing occasionally, but mostly he observed, his mind wandering to the upcoming summer and the challenges it would bring.
For now, though, he chose to focus on the present. The Great Hall was filled with joy and celebration, and Genevieve's infectious enthusiasm was hard to resist. Despite his reservations about returning to the orphanage, he found a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that he would eventually return to Hogwarts, to this place of learning and ambition, and to the girl who had become an unexpected ally.
As the feast drew to a close and the students began to disperse, Genevieve turned to him one last time. "See you next year, Tom," she said with a bright smile.
"See you next year, Genevieve," he replied, his voice softening. He watched her go, her figure disappearing among the throng of students, and for a moment, he allowed himself to feel a flicker of hope for the future.
SYNOPSIS: Genevieve and Tom have been reunited after years of separation and turmoil. Leading Tom to her room, Genevieve creates a space where they can finally confront their past. Tom, grappling with the revelation of his transformation into Voldemort, learns of Genevieveâs survival and the trials she endured at the hands of Dumbledore, who had hidden her away to prevent her interference with his plans. Later on, as everyone is getting used to Tom's presence, curiosity intrigues them all, especially Hermione on how he even learned about Horcruxes in the first place. Tom and Genevieve decide that their story deserves to be shared.
WARNINGS: Some warnings worth mentioning are some dark themes (manipulation, isolation, death, regret, guilt, etc.) but not explicit nor extreme. Furthermore, if any of these topics are touchy or uncomfortable, do not hesitate to leave the page or chapter. As well as, if anything pops up that is not mentioned in the warnings, let me know so I can properly add it to the warnings section!
WORD COUNT: 1.6k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hope you have been enjoying this fanfic as much as I am! This is not the last chapter, I need to figure out titles for the next set of chapters I will be writing...hehe....the story is definitively not over at all, just the beginning now that our love Tom is backkkk! Ahh, anyways happy Reading.
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Chapter Seventeen
The Return of Tom Marvolo Riddle
Genevieve led Tom up the stairs to her room, each step filled with unspoken words and memories. The door closed softly behind them, sealing them in a space that felt suspended in time. The room was filled with the remnants of Genevieveâs life during their years apartâbooks, trinkets, and keepsakes from a time when Tom was just a haunting memory.
Tom looked around, taking in the surroundings. His eyes were drawn to a photograph on the bedside table, a picture of the two of them from years ago. They were smiling, their faces radiant with youth and love. He picked up the scrapbook, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. âI remember this day,â he said softly. âWe went to Hogsmeade and spent the entire afternoon at the Three Broomsticks. You insisted on trying every flavor of Butterbeer they had.â
Genevieve laughed, a sound that was both joyous and tinged with sadness. âI couldnât believe there were so many variations. You were so patient with me, even when I spilled Butterbeer all over your new robes.â
Tom chuckled, setting the photograph back down. âThey were just robes. You were worth it.â He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. âI still canât believe youâre here, Genevieve. All those years I thought you were gone. How did you survive?â
Genevieveâs smile faded, replaced by a more serious expression. She gestured for him to sit down on the bed, and she joined him, their knees almost touching. âIt wasnât easy. After Dumbledore set the attack on me, I figured he wanted me out of the way but didnât want to risk killing me outright. He imprisoned me, made it look like I had died. I was kept in a secret location, guarded and isolated.â
Tomâs hands tightened into fists. âDumbledore⊠I should have known. He always had a way of getting what he wanted. Iâm so sorry, Genevieve. I failed you.â
Genevieve reached out, covering his hands with her own. âNo, Tom. You didnât fail me. We were both victims of his manipulations. But weâre here now, together. And thatâs what matters.â Tom looked down at their joined hands, his thumb gently stroking her skin. âYou always were the stronger one, Gen.â
She smiled softly. âEven in the darkest moments, you always kept me going.â
Tomâs gaze lifted to meet hers, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and regret. âI became someone Iâm not proud of, Genevieve. I did terrible things, all in the name of finding power, of defeating death. But none of it mattered without you. I lost my wayâŠAfter our fight, I was going to tell you that I was giving it all up entirelyâŠI was going to give up the meetingsâŠeverythingâŠt-then you were there on the floorâŠI didnât know what else to do.â
Genevieveâs eyes were full of understanding and compassion. âI know Tom, we both made mistakes. But we have the opportunity to start over. We can make things right, together.â
He nodded, his expression softening. âTogether,â he repeated, the words a promise and a hope. âTell me, Gen, what has happened so far?â
Genevieve leaned back slightly, her gaze distant as she recalled the past couple of months. âI was found by Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Hogwarts students sent by Dumblefore to defeat his creation.â
Tom furrowed his eyebrows and said, âWho?â
Genevieve sighed, âLord Voldemort.â Tomâs eyes had widened, nearly out of their sockets. Genevieve looked at him before continuing, âYes, I know about that. You made all the Horcruxes that you promised you wouldnât.â She said bitterly.
Tom, gaping, and bewildered, âI-I truly did?â
Genevieve, understanding the situation, asked, âYou canât remember either canât you? You truly canât remember that you created the Horcruxes?â
Tom sighed, trying hard to collect his memories. âI canât. I only seem to remember up to your death. I truthfully donât remember anything elseâŠlike so much is missing. I can only recollect some memories at the moment.âÂ
Genevieve nodded, âI didnât even remember much until I looked at the scrapbook. Iâve gained some recollection but thereâs a lot I am still trying to piece together.â
Tom, understanding, nodded, âAs if we were blocked from our own mindsâŠand when you try to remember, but it feels empty.â
Genevieve, completely agreeing, said, âExactly. There is probably much more that Albus did that we donât know.â
Tom, bitter, replied, âOf course. Heâs always tried to find a way to control everythingâŠbutâŠdo you really mean that Lord Voldemort is real?â
Genevieve said sadly, âYes, itâs true love. You did it.â
Tom, exhaled, with disappointment within himself, âIâm sorry Doll. I never meant to truly break my promiseâŠbut if he is alive, how am I even here?â
Genevieve smiled, âI found all of your Horcruxes. I remembered the ones that you had already made during our time at Hogwarts. Then, I realized you either had made more with items of importance to you. So for the last couple of months, Iâve had help from Harry, Ron, and Hermione to find them and we didâŠI studied my ancient magic, especially rune magic. Practicing to mend your soul again, bring you back to me.â
Tom smiled, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. âYou were always the brilliant one. Iâm so proud of you.â
She blushed slightly, a warmth spreading through her. âI had to be. For you. For us.â
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared history settling around them. Then Tom spoke again, his voice hesitant. âSo, Voldemory? Whatâs your plan?â
Genevieve looked at him, her eyes filled with determination. âWe defeat him. Tom, you and I both know him much better than anyone else..His plansâŠhis weaknesses. We can end him as he is now mortal once I brought you back. I canât do this on my own. I need your help Tom. Not only just to defeat him but I want to be with you again. All this time apart, Iâve been waiting for this day.â
Tom nodded, a sense of peace washing over him. âOkay. Weâll figure out the best way to bring him down, reveal the truth, and live in peace. As long as we are together, we can handle anything.â
Genevieve leaned in, resting her forehead against his. âI love you, Tom. I always have, and I always will.â
He closed his eyes, savoring the moment. âAnd I love you, Genevieve. More than anything in this world.â
The dining room was alive with the warmth of firelight and the murmur of conversation. Genevieve and Tom descended the stairs, hand in hand, their fingers intertwined as if to reassure each other of the reality of this moment. Tomâs black robes swayed with each step, a compliment to Genevieveâs dark blue attire. As they entered the room, all eyes turned toward them.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were already seated, the table laden with a hearty meal. Nagini observed Genevieve and Tom with an almost serene curiosity as they came into the room.
Tom took his seat next to Genevieve, his hand resting gently on her thigh under the table. He began to dig into his food with a natural ease that contrasted with the tension still lingering in the room. Harry's eyes lingered on Tom, filled with a mixture of curiosity, distrust, and confusion.
Noticing Harry's intense gaze, Tom looked up and met his eyes. "Is there something bothering you?" he asked, his tone even but with a hint of challenge.
Harry blushed and stammered, "No, Iâit's just... sorry. It's just weird."
Genevieve laughed softly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. Tom looked at her, a question in his eyes. "What's so funny, Genevieve?"
She shook her head, smiling. "It's just... your bluntness. Your presence here is unsettling them." Harry cleared his throat, grateful for the interruption. "It's just strange for us to see you and not confuse you with Voldemort. He killed my parents, my friends... so many people I cared about."
Tom's expression softened with understanding. "I understand. I am not proud of what I became. The beginnings of Voldemort started with me, yes, but I am not that person anymore. My soul is whole again, and I promise I will do everything I can to help you defeat him."
Genevieve added, "Tom is not Lord Voldemort now that his soul is whole. He is mortal, and that makes Voldemort vulnerable. Together, we can end this."
Hermione, ever the curious one, leaned forward. "Tom, how did you even learn about Horcruxes in the first place?"
Tom's eyes grew distant, as if recalling a painful memory. "It's a story that not even words can fully explain," he said softly.
Hermione nodded, sensing the weight of his words. "I understand."
Tom looked around the table, his gaze settling on each of them in turn. "How about I show you? Me and Genevieve's story."
Everyone's interest piqued at his suggestion. Genevieve smiled warmly. "There's a Pensieve in the other room," she said, standing up and gesturing for them to follow. They moved to the adjacent room, where an ornate stone basin sat on a pedestal, shimmering with a silvery liquid. Tom and Genevieve exchanged a glance, their hands still entwined. Tom took a deep breath, then placed his wand to his temple, drawing out silvery threads of memory. Genevieve did the same, and together they added their memories to the Pensieve. The surface of the liquid swirled, reflecting a myriad of emotions and events.
"Ready?" Genevieve asked softly, looking at the group.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione nodded, stepping forward with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. One by one, they leaned in, and the room dissolved into a whirlwind of memories.
SYNOPSIS: For the purposes of not spoiling anything, hehe...It is officially time for the ritual. The ritual that will either bring back Tom Riddle, or one that will cause chaos.
WARNINGS: The following passage contains some themes of death and resurrection and some themes of trauma. If there are any others that need mentioning that I was unable to catch please let me know!
WORD COUNT: 3.7k
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think you will be pleased with this chapter...that's for sure....Happy Reading luvs!
TRANSLATION: âDissipata animae fragmenta redeant ad unitatem. De tenebris ad lucem, anima vaga, revertere. Vincula animae franguntur, libertatem inveniunt. Animae divisae simul redeant et corpus inveniant. Ab umbris in lucem, tota anima reviviscat.â (Latin)
âLet the scattered fragments of the soul return to unity. From darkness to light, wandering soul, return. The bonds of the soul are broken, let them find freedom. Let the divided souls come back together and find their body. From the shadows into the light, let the whole soul come back to life.â (English)
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Chapter Sixteen
The Ritual
The morning light filtered through the dusty windows, casting a muted glow over the ancient rooms. In the library, Genevieve was surrounded by an array of books, scrolls, and magical instruments. She had been up since the peak of dawn, meticulously preparing for the daunting task ahead: extracting the pieces of Voldemort's soul from Harry and Nagini. Genevieve knew that rune magic was a precise and ancient art, demanding unwavering focus and skill, as her father Gellert had once said. She had spent years studying its intricacies, but the stakes had never been this high, at least with so many years without practice due to her state. Nonetheless, she took a deep breath, centering herself before beginning the complicated process.
First, she laid out a large piece of parchment on the table, its surface blank and waiting. She dipped a quill into a pot of specially prepared ink, a deep red hue that shimmered faintly. The ink was a crucial component, infused with phoenix tears and basilisk venom she found in the secret apothecary built into the Black house, which when combined is potent enough to interact with the fragments of Voldemort's soul. Genevieve began by drawing a large circle, the foundational boundary for the runic array. She moved with practiced precision, her hand steady as she inscribed the outermost symbols, each one representing protection, containment, and purification. These runes would form the barrier to keep the extracted soul pieces from escaping or causing harm.
With the circle complete, Genevieve added inner layers of runes, each set corresponding to specific magical properties. There were runes for severance, to carefully cut the soul fragments from their hosts, and runes for transfer, to safely move the fragments into prepared vessels. The final set of runes were for healing, to mend the spiritual wounds left behind. As Genevieve worked, she recited incantations under her breath, the ancient words resonating with the power of the runes. The air around her seemed to hum with energy, the magic taking shape in response to her efforts.
Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were trying to keep their minds off the gravity of the situation. They had set up a makeshift game room in the drawing-room, hoping to find some distraction in each other's company.
Ron dealt a hand of Exploding Snap, his movements quick and practiced. "Alright, who's ready to lose?" he said with a grin, trying to inject some levity into the tense atmosphere.
Harry rolled his eyes playfully. "You wish, Ron. I've been practicing."
Hermione, sitting across from them, managed a smile. "Just try not to blow up the table this time, okay?" They played several rounds, the familiar game providing a welcome respite from their worries. The cards snapped and crackled, and laughter occasionally punctuated the air as they bantered and teased each other.
After a particularly explosive round, Ron leaned back in his chair, looking thoughtful. "Do you think Genevieve will be alright? I mean, this rune magic stuff sounds intense."
Hermione nodded, her expression serious. "It is. But if anyone can do it, it's Genevieve. Sheâs been studying this for years. We have to trust her."
Harry sighed, his thoughts drifting back to the library. "I know. Itâs just... hard to sit here and wait."
Hermione reached over and squeezed his hand. "Weâre all in this together, Harry. Sheâll call us when sheâs ready. For now, we need to keep our spirits up, especially you Harry. Being relaxed helps the transfer to be efficient without any form of resistance." As the day wore on, they shifted from games to conversation, reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts, sharing stories of past adventures, and discussing their hopes for the future. They shared memories that helped ease their anxiety, if only for a while, as they continued to enjoy their time together, despite the troubles in the outside world, just this once.
Back in the library, Genevieve was nearing the final steps of her preparation. The runic array was complete, glowing faintly with the power imbued in each symbol. She double-checked her work, ensuring that every line was perfect, every rune precisely where it needed to be. Satisfied, she moved to the next phase: testing the array. She retrieved a small, inert object, a piece of old jewelry, and placed it in the center of the circle. Chanting softly, she activated the runes, watching as the energy flowed through the array. The jewelry glowed briefly, the runes flaring with light as the magic interacted with the object.
After a few moments, the glow subsided, and Genevieve carefully examined the jewelry. It was unharmed, the runic magic having performed as expected. She allowed herself a small smile of relief. The array was ready. With the preparations complete, Genevieve knew it was time to gather the others. She left the library and found Harry, Ron, and Hermione still in the drawing-room, their conversation fading as she approached.
"It's time," she said, her voice steady but solemn. "Weâre ready to begin the extraction." The trio exchanged glances, their earlier levity replaced by resolve. They followed Genevieve back to the library, where the runic array awaited. The room felt charged with anticipation, the significance of the moment heavy in the air.
Genevieve turned to face them, her expression calm but determined. "This will be difficult, but weâve come this far. We can do this. Trust me."
Harry nodded, stepping forward. "Letâs finish this."
Back in the library, the room was bathed in a soft, golden light as Genevieve prepared for the ritual. The runic array on the parchment glowed faintly, the complex symbols resonating with the magic imbued within them. On the table, two necklaces lay side by side, their simple designs belying the monumental task they were about to undertake: becoming the new vessels for the pieces of Voldemort's soul.
Harry and Nagini stood nearby, their expressions a mix of apprehension and determination. Genevieve motioned for them to take their places. "Please, sit facing each other," she instructed, her voice calm and reassuring. "This will allow the energy to flow more smoothly during the extraction."
Harry and Nagini complied, sitting down across from one another with the necklaces between them. Genevieve positioned herself at the head of the table, her wand in hand, and took a deep breath, centering herself.
"This process will require you both to remain as relaxed as possible," Genevieve said, her eyes moving from Harry to Nagini. "Do not move, no matter what you feel. The runes will guide the extraction, but any sudden movements could disrupt the ritual."
Harry nodded, his jaw set in determination. "We'll do our best."
Nagini, her demeanor composed, added, "We trust you, Genevieve."
Genevieve smiled, âThis may feel uncomfortable but I guarantee you both, you won't have to deal with having his soul inside you any more.â
Harry smiled, âWeâre ready.â
With that, Genevieve began to chant softly, the ancient words of the incantation filling the room. She moved her wand in a precise pattern, tracing the runes in the air. The runic array on the parchment responded, the symbols glowing brighter as the magic activated.
A soft, pulsing light emanated from the necklaces, signaling the beginning of the extraction. Genevieve directed her wand toward Harry first, her movements fluid and exact. She could feel the resistance as she gently coaxed the fragment of Voldemort's soul from within him, the dark energy struggling against the pull of the runes.
Harry's eyes fluttered closed, his breathing deep and steady. He felt a strange sensation, like a cold wind swirling inside him, but he remained still, trusting Genevieve to guide the process. Slowly, the dark energy began to flow out of him, drawn towards the necklace. The runes glowed brighter, their light intensifying as the fragment was transferred into the new vessel. With a final, soft incantation, Genevieve completed the extraction. The necklace pulsed with a dark light for a moment before settling, the fragment securely contained. She exhaled slowly, relief washing over her as she turned her attention to Nagini.
"Well done, Harry," she whispered, her voice steady. "Now for the next step."
Nagini met Genevieve's gaze, her eyes calm. Genevieve repeated the process, her wand movements precise and her incantation steady. The runic array responded once more, the symbols flaring to life as they worked to extract the second fragment of Voldemort's soul. Nagini felt a similar cold sensation, the dark energy swirling within her as it was drawn out. She remained perfectly still, her breathing controlled. The fragment flowed from her into the second necklace, the runes glowing fiercely as they completed the transfer.
With the final incantation, Genevieve sealed the fragment within the necklace. The room seemed to exhale with her, the tension easing as the ritual reached its conclusion. The necklaces lay on the table, now containing the dark fragments of Voldemort's soul, their task complete.
Genevieve lowered her wand, her shoulders relaxing. She looked at Harry and Nagini, both of whom were now free from the burden of the Horcruxes. "It's done," she said softly, a small smile of triumph on her lips. "You both did wonderfully."
Harry opened his eyes, feeling lighter than he had in years. "Thank you, Genevieve," he said, his voice filled with gratitude. "I can't believe it's over."
Nagini nodded, her expression serene. "You've done something remarkable, Genevieve. We can move forward now."
Genevieve's smile widened, relief and hope shining in her eyes. "This is only the first step, but it's a crucial one. With the Horcruxes contained, we can now focus on bringing Tom Riddle back. The next part is something that I will have to do alone. I cannot have you here."
Harry, curiously asked, âWhy is that?â
Genevieve turned towards him, âI canât risk putting anyone else in danger for the rest of the ritual. The runes are complicated and if gone wrong, the vessels may burst and attach to anything alive other than the conjurer. That would be no good. It would be much more difficult, impossible even to remove a full set of horcruxes from a human being. Itâs best if you all just waited outside.â
Harry wanted to interject but Nagini beat him to it, âWe understand, just be careful.â
Genevieve nodded, âOf course. I promise you both, everything will go just fine. If anything does happen, know that at least I will be alright.â
Harry, still unsure, says, âPromise?â
Genevieve smiled softly, âI promise Harry.âÂ
Harry, defeated, said, âOkay. Weâll be in the other room if you need anything.â
The soft hum of magical energy was still lingering in the air after Genevieve's successful extraction of the Horcruxes. As she prepared for the next phase of the ritual, Harry paced restlessly in the adjoining room, his mind racing with concern. He couldnât shake the uneasy feeling that leaving Genevieve to perform the ritual alone was a mistake.
Ron, Hermione, and Nagini watched him, understanding his worry. Hermione was the first to speak, her voice gentle yet firm. "Harry, you need to calm down. Genevieve knows what she's doing. She's powerful and experienced in rune magic. She wouldn't proceed if she wasn't confident she could handle it."
Harry stopped pacing, running a hand through his hair. "I know, Hermione, but this is different. Extracting the Horcruxes was one thing, but bringing Tom Riddle back to life? It's dangerous. What if something goes wrong?"
Ron stepped forward, placing a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "Mate, I get it. I do. But Genevieve is smart. She's been planning this for a long time. She wouldn't take unnecessary risks. And besides, we've all seen what she's capable of."
Nagini, her voice calm and soothing, added, "Genevieve is not alone in this. She has our support and the knowledge she's gathered. She knows when to stop if something goes wrong. You have to trust her, Harry."
Harry sighed, the weight of his anxiety pressing down on him. "It's just... we've been through so much already. I can't bear the thought of losing her too. What if Voldemort's soul fragments fight back? What if they hurt her?"
Hermione moved closer, her eyes full of empathy. "I understand, Harry. We all do. But remember, Genevieve is the one who discovered the Horcrux in you. Sheâs the one who figured out how to extract them. If anyone can handle this, it's her. Sheâs been preparing for this moment."
Ron nodded in agreement. "And we're right here. If she needs help, we'll be ready. But she needs us to trust her right now."
Harry looked at his friends, seeing the same determination and faith in their eyes that had carried them through countless battles. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. "You're right. I need to trust her. I do trust her. It's just hard."
Nagini offered a small, reassuring smile. "Itâs natural to worry about those we care for. But worrying won't help her. Believing in her will."
Harry nodded slowly, feeling a bit of the tension ease. "Okay. I'll try to stay calm. But if anything goes wrong, weâre going in to help her."
Hermione squeezed his arm gently. "Of course. But for now, let's give her the space she needs to work. We have to have faith in her abilities."
With a final, deep breath, Harry tried to let go of his worry. "Alright. Let's wait here, then. And keep our ears open, just in case." As the group settled into a tense vigil, the door to the library remained closed, a silent testament to the weight of the task Genevieve was undertaking. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation and concern, but also with a thread of hope. They had come so far, and now, more than ever, they needed to trust in the strength and wisdom of their friend.
Inside the library, Genevieve stood over the runic array, her hands steady and her mind focused. She knew the risks, but she also knew the importance of the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, she began to relax, meditating, feeling the ancient magic respond to her. The room was filled with an eerie stillness as Genevieve was ready for the final phase of the ritual.Â
The Horcruxes, now contained within two ornate necklaces, lay on the table before her. The runic array she had meticulously prepared glowed faintly, the ancient symbols pulsing with latent power. She took a final deep breath, grounding herself in the knowledge and preparation that had led to this moment. It was time to bring Tom Riddle back to life, to mend his fragmented soul, and set the stage for Voldemort's ultimate defeat.
She began by placing the necklaces in the center of the runic array, positioning them precisely according to the intricate pattern she had studied for months. The room seemed to hum with energy, the air thick with anticipation. Genevieve raised her hands, her voice steady as she chanted the first incantation. "Dissipata animae fragmenta redeant ad unitatem." The runes flared to life, casting an otherworldly glow across the library.
With each step, the ritual grew more intense. Genevieve's voice grew stronger, the power of the incantations filling the room. "De tenebris ad lucem, anima vaga, revertere." The necklaces began to vibrate, the fragments of Voldemort's soul responding to the call.
Sweat beaded on Genevieve's forehead as she moved to the next stage, her focus unwavering. "Vincula animae franguntur, libertatem inveniunt." The runic symbols pulsed brighter, the light shifting from a dark, ominous hue to a softer, more radiant glow. The atmosphere in the library began to change. What had been a heavy, oppressive energy transformed into something lighter, more hopeful. Genevieve could feel the dark magic being purified, the fragments of Voldemort's soul being drawn out of their vessels and into the center of the array.
She took a deep breath, knowing the most critical part was at hand. "Animae divisae simul redeant et corpus inveniant." The light intensified, swirling around the necklaces in a brilliant vortex. As she uttered the final incantation, her voice rang with power and determination. "Ab umbris in lucem, tota anima reviviscat." The room was flooded with blinding light, the dark magic fully transformed into pure, radiant energy.
When the light subsided, the runes on the floor dimmed to a gentle glow, their task complete. In the center of the array, where the necklaces had been, layed a figure. Tom Riddle, not the twisted visage of Voldemort, but a young man Genevive once knew, his features unmarked by dark magic. He looked around, disoriented, his eyes wide with confusion and a hint of fear. Genevieve stepped back, her breath coming in heavy gasps. The ritual had taken a toll on her, but she had succeeded. The vessels were empty, and Tom Riddle was there before her, his soul mended and whole. She couldnât believe it. He was back.Â
She reached towards him slowly, and said, âTom?â
Tom turned around to the voice in front of him. He truthfully couldnât believe his eyes. The last time she was in front of him, was the day he had lost everything. He didnât want to believe she was there, she was dead in his arms the last time. There was no possibility that Genevieve was alive.Â
Tom gulped, tears on the verge of escaping, âGen?â He said quietly.
Genevieve smiled, tears in her eyes, âYeah Tom?â
Tom closed his eyes, tears escaping. He thought that this was a dream. âIâm dreaming. You died in my arms. Youâre not here. Youâre a figment of my imagination.â He said as he was shaking his head.Â
Genevieve moved to grab his hand. She had to show him that this was, in fact, real. âNo, Tommy, I am here. Iâm alive. Grab my hand love.â
Tom, filled with confusion but relief, opened his eyes as Genevieve laid her hand over his. Feeling she was real, he moved his other hand to cradle her face. He caressed her cheek, taking it all in that Genevieve was really in front of him. âYouâre alive? Youâre really here?â
Genevieve moved to caress his cheek, enjoying feeling his warm touch again, âI really am here.â
Tom moved forward, leaning for their foreheads to touch. He let out a sigh that he didnât realize he was holding on to. For a moment, he just relished the feeling of his lover next to him, not wanting to let go. He furrowed his eyebrows, âBut how? You werenât breathing in my arms⊠I triedâŠy-you were so paleâŠand DumbledoreâŠhe didnât fucking do anything. That blasted oaf-â Tom stated furiously, body shaking as Genevieve interjected, âI know my love. He did this. He planted this whole plan to separate us and made it seem I died, but I didnât. He locked me up in hopes for those he wished for to find me and destroy youâŠbut I made them realize who my blasted father wasâŠand now look. Youâre back here with me.â Genevieve held Tomâs face in her hands, staring into his eyes.
Tom looked deep into her eyes, and he knew that she was real. Her two different colored eyes radiated with passion and longing just as much as his eyes did. For so long, he had felt lost. Lost without the one person who understood him and loved him, even with his flaws. âIâve missed you Doll.â
Genevieve smiled, sobs fighting to get out, recalling the last time they were together. For she had wished that their last encounter wasnât a fight. âI-Iâve missed you too, my love.âÂ
Tom, letting go of his tears, happy that he was finally with Genevieve again, and leaned forward to kiss her. Genevieve reciprocated the kiss, gentle but passionate, filled with an eagerness from the years apart. Simultaneously, a yellow glow had emitted, a symbol of their love radiating from both of their magical cores. Even their cores knew that their two souls had bonded to each other once again, as it had many years ago, in their secret sanctuary.Â
Genevieve let go to stare back into Tomâs eyes. She said, âLetâs get you into some better robes. I have so much to catch you up on.âÂ
Tom smiled softly and nodded. âOf course my dear.â With that, they moved to stand up to head to the other room.
Outside the library, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Nagini waited anxiously. When the light had poured from under the door, they had held their breath, hoping for the best. Now, as the glow faded, they exchanged nervous glances.Â
That is when they heard the doorknob turn. The sight that greeted them was almost surreal. Genevieve moved to stand at the center of the room, visibly exhausted but triumphant. And standing next to her was Tom Riddle, hands held together, looking more like the young man he once was than the dark lord he had become.
"Genevieve," Harry said softly, his voice filled with awe and relief. "You did it."
Genevieve turned to him, a tired but satisfied smile on her face. "Yes, it's done.â Hermione and Ron stepped forward, their expressions a mix of amazement and caution. Nagini watched from the doorway, her eyes unreadable.
Tom Riddle, now fully aware of his surroundings, looked at the group before him. He seemed to be grappling with the situation, wondering whom the people around him were. He looked at Genevieve for some help.Â
âWeâll talk in a few. For right now, I have to catch Tom up on a few things and then we can continue to discuss our next plans. I'll help with dinner shortly,â Genevieve said.
Nagini was the first to speak, âTake your time. I know you both have so much to discuss. We can handle dinner.â
Hermione nodded, âOf course, donât worry about that Genevieve. Youâve already done so much. Weâll be in the kitchen if you need anything.â Harry and Ron both nodded.
âYeah, you should also get some rest. I think we can wait another day before anything,â Harry said with a beaming smile.Â
Genevieve bowed her head slightly in gratitude, âThank you all. Weâll be down shortly.â With that, they left to head to the kitchen as Genevieve led Tom up to her room up the stairs. The weight of their mission still heavy but now imbued with a renewed sense of hope, they knew that the end was in sight. They had taken a crucial step towards victory and it was only a matter of time that the end of darkness would be near.
SYNOPSIS: In the aftermath of retrieving Voldemort's diary and ring, Grimmauld Place is a blend of relief and tension. The group spends the day analyzing the Horcruxes, speculating about the final piece. Genevieve isolates herself, pouring over old texts in the library, her unusual behavior noted but unchallenged as the others are too engrossed in their task. As night falls, Harry experiences a vivid vision of an enraged Voldemort, jolting him awake. Instinctively, he heads to the library and finds Genevieve, who, after some hesitation, reveals a devastating truth: Harry is the final Horcrux. The next morning, Harry and Genevieve share this revelation with Hermione, Ron, and Nagini. Genevieve reassures them that having all the Horcruxes in their possession means they've completed the first part of their mission. Genevieve outlines the next steps: extracting the Horcruxes from Nagini and Harry and transferring them into different vessels. The final, dangerous part of their plan involves resurrecting Tom Riddle with his full soul to ensure Voldemort is mortal and can be completely destroyed.
WARNINGS: None really, aside from Harry's vision with Voldey Moldy
WORD COUNT: 1.3k
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Chapter Fifteen
Harry Potter
The atmosphere in Grimmauld Place was a strange mix of relief and tension. After successfully retrieving the diary and the ring, the group had spent the day analyzing the Horcruxes and contemplating what the final piece could be. Genevieve, however, seemed unusually withdrawn, often retreating to the library to pore over old texts and scrolls. Her behavior did not go unnoticed, but everyone was too engrossed in their work to question her.
Harry, Hermione, Ron, and even Nagini spent hours discussing possible locations and objects that might be the final Horcrux. As the day wore on, their conversation grew more speculative and less productive, frustration creeping in. Genevieve, meanwhile, isolated herself further, her mind preoccupied with a truth she had yet to reveal.
Nightfall brought a stillness to Grimmauld Place. The house's usual creaks and groans seemed muted as exhaustion settled over its inhabitants. Harry, however, found no rest. In the depths of his uneasy sleep, he experienced a vivid vision: Voldemort, eyes blazing with fury, pacing a dark room and smashing objects in his path. The intensity of the Dark Lord's anger jolted Harry awake.
Breathing heavily, Harry got out of bed and instinctively made his way to the library. He pushed open the door and found Genevieve sitting alone, illuminated by the soft glow of a single lamp. Her face was a mask of contemplation and worry. Hearing his footsteps, she looked up, her eyes meeting him with a mixture of surprise and resignation.
"Harry," she said softly, "what are you doing up?"
"I could ask you the same," he replied, trying to gauge her mood. "I had another vision. Voldemort is furious. Itâs like he knows weâre getting closer. Are you okay?"
Genevieve gestured to the chair next to her. "Sit with me, Harry. We need to talk." A sense of foreboding washed over Harry as he took a seat. He could tell from her tone and the gravity in her eyes that whatever she was about to say would change everything.
Genevieve took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "Harry, thereâs something you need to know. It's something I've been trying to come to terms with, something I've been trying to figure out how to tell you."
Harry leaned forward, his heart pounding. "What is it?"
She hesitated for a moment, then continued. "Iâve been thinking a lot about why you can see into Voldemortâs mind, why you can sense the Horcruxes. It didnât make any sense why someone like him would grant you such abilities. After everything weâve discovered and after some deep digging and reflection, Iâve come to a conclusion. A terrible one."
Genevieveâs voice trembled slightly as she spoke. "Harry, you are the last Horcrux."
For a moment, there was silence. Harry stared at her, trying to process the weight of her words. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Remember the night your parents were killed?" Genevieve began, her eyes locked onto his. "The night Voldemort tried to kill you and the curse rebounded? Well, that night, I believe a part of his soul latched onto the only living thing in the room. You. It was an accident, but you became a Horcrux. Thatâs why ever since he came back, you gained a connection to him. A connection like Nagini has to him as well."
Harry's mind raced, fragments of memories and thoughts colliding. "That's why I can see his thoughts," he murmured. "Why I feel the Horcruxes."
Genevieve nodded. "Yes. Itâs why youâve always had that connection to him. Itâs why you could speak Parseltongue, why youâve been able to sense when heâs near."
Harry leaned back, feeling as though the wind had been knocked out of him. The truth was both devastating and surreal. "So, what does this mean? What do we do?"
Genevieve reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. âWe found the last Horcrux. And we can take it out of you. But you needed to know the truth before anyone else. You deserve to know.â
Harry nodded slowly, the enormity of the revelation settling over him. "Thank you, Genevieve, for telling me."
She squeezed his arm gently. "Of course. I wish I wouldâve told you sooner. But now we can finally bring an end to all this.â
Harry smiled softly, âYeah, we completed our mission.âÂ
Genevieve smiled back, âWe did.â
The following morning, the tension in Grimmauld Place was palpable as the group gathered for breakfast. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on Harry and Genevieve, and they knew it was time to share the revelation with the others. The kitchen, usually filled with the comforting clatter of plates and cutlery, was unusually quiet.
Harry and Genevieve exchanged a glance as they took their seats at the table. Ron, Hermione, and Nagini looked up expectantly, sensing that something significant was about to be discussed.
"Everyone," Harry began, his voice steady but solemn, "thereâs something we need to talk about. Genevieve and I had a long conversation last night, and she figured out something crucial about our mission."
Hermione and Ron leaned in, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. Nagini, watched with a calm, composed demeanor. Genevieve took a deep breath and continued, "After much thought and analysis, I realized that the reason Harry has been able to see into Voldemortâs mind and sense the Horcruxes is because he is the last Horcrux."
A stunned silence filled the room. Hermione's eyes widened in shock, and Ron's jaw dropped. "Harry is a Horcrux?" Hermione whispered, her voice trembling. "How... how is that possible?"
Harry nodded, his expression resolute. "It happened the night Voldemort tried to kill me. When the curse rebounded, a part of his soul latched onto me. It was an accident, but it made me a Horcrux."
Ron looked bewildered, struggling to process the information. "Blimey, Harry. Thatâs... thatâs insane."
Nagini, however, remained unfazed. "I figured as much," she said nonchalantly, drawing surprised looks from the others. "The connection you share with Voldemort is too strong to be anything else."
Hermione, her analytical mind racing, asked, "So what does that mean we do now? Isnât it potentially difficult knowing a Horcrux has a vessel that is not an inanimate object?â
Genevieve smiled reassuringly. "We have all the Horcruxes here. Weâve completed the first part of our mission. The next steps involve extracting the Horcruxes from Nagini and Harry and transferring them into different vessels. I will handle the extraction process."
Ronâs eyes narrowed with concern. "And then what? Whatâs the next part of the plan?"
Genevieve's expression grew serious. "Once the Horcruxes are safely extracted and contained, our next step is to bring Tom Riddle back to life. To defeat Voldemort once and for all," Genevieve explained. "By resurrecting his counterpart, with his full soul, we can ensure that Voldemort is vulnerable and mortal, and can be taken down by the one who knows him best. Only then can we destroy Voldemort completely."
Ron looked skeptical. "But isn't that incredibly dangerous?"
Genevieve nodded. "It is. But itâs the only way to ensure that Voldemortâs soul is entirely destroyed. We need to make him whole again to end him for good."
Harry looked around at his friends, seeing the fear and determination in their eyes. "Weâve come this far. We canât turn back now. We need to see this through to the end."
Hermione reached out and placed a hand on Harryâs arm. "Weâre with you, Harry. Whatever it takes."
Ron nodded, his expression resolute. "Yeah, mate. Weâll do this together."
Nagini, her voice soft but firm, added, "I will do everything in my power to help. We must succeed."
Genevieve smiled, feeling a surge of hope and solidarity. "Thank you all. Weâll need to be precise and careful, but I believe we can do this. Letâs prepare for the extraction and the final battle ahead." As the group finished their breakfast, the weight of their mission settled over them, but so did a renewed sense of determination. They had faced impossible odds before and emerged victorious. Together, they would face the final challenge and bring an end to Voldemortâs reign of terror, no matter what it takes.
SYNOPSIS: After an exhausting day, Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve, along with Nagini, prepare a plan to retrieve two crucial Horcruxesâthe diary and the ringâby traveling back in time. Over a modest dinner, they discuss the complexities of their mission. Just as they finalize their plans, Ron returns after a long absence, bringing renewed hope and determination to the group. The next day, armed with their Time-Turners and a meticulously crafted strategy, Harry and Hermione journey to the Chamber of Secrets while Ron and Genevieve head to the decrepit Gaunt shack. Both teams succeed and return to the present, narrowly avoiding detection and maintaining the timelineâs integrity. When the group returns, they celebrate their success, having secured two more pieces of Voldemort's soul without causing any ripples in time. Their victory brings them one step closer to their ultimate goalâdefeating Voldemort and restoring peace.
WARNINGS: Some violence and danger are present in this chapter, as well as suspense and anxiety inducing sciences, but not too much. Let me know if there are any warnings or trigger warnings that I should add :)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it's been taking too long for me to update. I've been working on summer research and that takes up a lot of time but never fret, I will make sure to update as soon as I can. Happy Reading :))
WORD COUNT: 2.3k
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Chapter Fourteen
The Ring and The Diary
The long, mahogany table at Grimmauld Place was laden with a modest but hearty dinner. The flickering light of candles added a warm glow to the otherwise dark and dreary kitchen. Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve sat around the table, finally taking a break after an exhausting day of research. Nagini, an unexpected guest, also gathered around the table, enjoying her human form once again after many years stuck in her serpent form.
"Pass the mashed potatoes, please," Harry said, reaching out to Hermione, who obligingly handed over the bowl.
"Who knew researching Horcruxes would be this draining?" Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "We're making progress, though. I can feel it."
Genevieve took a sip of her tea, her eyes twinkling with a mix of exhaustion and amusement. "Indeed. Weâre close to figuring out how to safely retrieve the diary and the ring without altering the timeline too drastically."
Harry nodded, his forehead still creased with concern. "It's just... we need to be absolutely certain. One wrong move and we could cause irreparable damage."
Nagini shifted slightly, drawing their attention. Hermione glanced at her expression, a mix of wariness and curiosity. "It's still surreal having you here, helping us. I donât think any one of us expected this," she murmured.
Genevieve smiled. "Stranger alliances have been formed in times of need. She's proven herself, hasn't she?" Before anyone could respond, the front door creaked open. Harry and Hermione exchanged puzzled glances as the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall. Suddenly, Ron appeared in the doorway, looking weary but determined.
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, leaping from her chair. She rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck. "I've missed you so much! Are you okay?" Ron hugged her tightly, his face lighting up with a tired but genuine smile. "I'm fine, Hermione. Missed you too."
Harry was next, crossing the room to clap Ron on the back before pulling him into a hug. "Good to have you back, mate. We were worried."
Genevieve watched the reunion with a warm smile, her hands cradling her teacup. "Welcome back, Ron. Your timing couldn't be better." Ron, looking around at the gathered group and even sparing a cautious glance at Nagini, grinned. "I see things have changed a bit since I left." Hermione pulled back slightly, her eyes shining with relief and affection. "We've had a few surprises. Come, sit down. You must be starving."
 As Ron took a seat at the table, Harry passed him a plate piled high with food. "We've been working on a way to retrieve the diary and the ring intact. It's been challenging."
Ron nodded, his face serious. "Sounds like I came back just in time, then. I've been doing some thinking too. Maybe I can help."
Hermione reached out, placing her hand over Ron's. "We can definitely use all the help we can get. But for now, letâs eat and catch up." The conversation flowed easily after that, filled with laughter. They shared stories, both old and new, the warmth of their friendship a beacon in the otherwise dark and uncertain world they faced. Even Nagini seemed to relax, her posture less tense as she observed the group. Genevieve, watching the scene unfold, felt a glimmer of hope. As the evening wore on, the exhaustion of the day melted away, replaced by the comforting presence of friends reunited. The challenges ahead were daunting, but for now, they had each other. And that was enough.
In the dimly lit family room, the air was thick with anticipation. Genevieve stood at the center, her eyes fixed on the group seated around her. Harry, Hermione, and Ron listened intently, while Nagini sat quietly to the side, her gaze sharp and focused.
"Thank you all for gathering here," Genevieve began, her voice steady and resolute. "Weâve made significant progress, and now it's time to discuss the plan to retrieve the diary and the ring. These Horcruxes are crucial to our mission, and we must handle this delicately."
Harry leaned forward, his brows furrowed. "So, how do we do this without messing up the timeline?"
Genevieve took a deep breath. "Weâll split into two teams, each responsible for retrieving one Horcrux. The key is to not venture too far back in time. Weâll aim for the most recent moments that allow us to make the switch seamlessly."
Hermione, ever the logical thinker, interjected, "But even small changes in the past can have significant impacts. How do we ensure we don't alter history?"
"Transfiguration," Genevieve replied. "We will transfigure the damaged Horcruxes to appear undamaged. This way, when we make the switch, the timeline remains unaffected as much as possible. The illusion must be flawless. For the case of the diary and the ring, Iâll have to also cast a few spells and rune magic to maintain its dark nature. Therefore, it would still allow the past Harry to seemingly destroy the diary and Dumbledore would still end up cursed, which would still lead to his deathâŠI know this may make anyone uneasy, so I will perform the magic myself, the rest of us will just make the switch. "
Ron nodded slowly, though his expression was still one of concern. "So, who goes where?"
Genevieve unfolded a piece of parchment on the table, revealing a detailed plan. "Harry and Hermione will retrieve the diary from the Chamber of Secrets. Ron and I will handle the ring at the Gaunt shack. Nagini will stay here to monitor our temporal positions and ensure we all return safely."
Nagini, her voice smooth and calm, added, "I'll be your anchor. My connection to Voldemort's magic gives me a unique sense of the Horcruxes' presence. I can guide you back if anything goes wrong."
Harry exchanged a glance with Hermione. "How close to the actual times are we talking?" Genevieve traced a line on the parchment. "For the diary, just a few days before Harry destroyed it in the Chamber. For the ring, moments before Dumbledore retrieved it. Close enough to minimize the risk of detection, but not so close that we canât avoid our past selves."
Hermione bit her lip. "But what if something goes wrong? What if we can't switch them in time?"
"Weâll have contingency plans," Genevieve assured her. "Weâll carry a small reserve of Polyjuice Potion, and I have a few spells up my sleeve that can buy us some time. But we must stay focused and move quickly."
Ron, though still looking hesitant, finally spoke up. "Alright. But what about the ripple effects? How do we deal with those?"
Genevieve smiled reassuringly. "The ripple effects will be minimal if we do this correctly. By transfiguring the damaged Horcruxes and replacing them at the exact moments, the timeline will remain stable. The key is precision and speed."
Harry nodded, the resolve in his eyes clear. "We can do this. We have to."
Hermione took a deep breath, her determination shining through. "I'm with you."
Ron, though still a bit nervous, squared his shoulders. "Count me in."
Genevieve looked at them with pride. "Then it's settled. We leave tomorrow at dawn. Prepare yourselves and get some rest. This will require all our strength and focus." The group dispersed to their respective rooms, each lost in their thoughts. As Genevieve watched them go, she felt a surge of hope.With careful planning and a bit of luck, they would retrieve the Horcruxes. The clock ticked softly in the background, a reminder of the time that was both their enemy and their ally. But for now, they had a plan.Â
The library of Grimmauld Place seemed to shimmer as the group activated their Time-Turners. The air around Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Genevieve swirled with a golden light, the familiar sensation of time travel pulling them away from the present. The room blurred, and their surroundings changed in an instant.Â
Harry and Hermione found themselves standing in a dark, damp corridor deep beneath Hogwarts: the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. The musty smell of ancient stone filled their nostrils as they took in their surroundings. Simultaneously, Ron and Genevieve landed outside the decrepit Gaunt shack. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the overgrown grass whispered under their feet as they approached the door.
Nagini watched the clock intently, her eyes never leaving the second hand as it ticked. She held her own charm tightly, ready to respond to any signal from the group, or to send a signal the second danger was prevalent.
Harry glanced at Hermione, who nodded. "Let's move quickly," he whispered.
They pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the Chamber. The air was filled with the eerie echo of their footsteps. Ahead of them lay the lifeless body of the basilisk, and on the far end of the room stood the statue of Salazar Slytherin, with the small, black diary lying on the floor.
Harry pointed to the diary. "There it is. Just like we planned."
As they started moving towards the diary, they heard a faint echo of voices from the entrance to the Chamber. Harryâs heart sank as he recognized the voiceâhis own, younger self.
"Quick, hide!" Harry hissed. They ducked behind the nearest column just as younger Harry and Ginny, accompanied by the shade of Tom Riddle, entered the Chamber. The younger Harry was trying to save Ginny, oblivious to the presence of their older counterparts.
Hermioneâs eyes widened. "We can't let them see us."
They watched as the younger Harry ran towards the exit, only to be halted by the menacing figure of Tom Riddle, who began to taunt him. The older Harry and Hermione had to wait for the right moment, staying hidden in the shadows.
As Riddleâs taunting grew louder, the older Harry saw his opportunity. He turned to Hermione. "We need a distraction." Hermione nodded and whispered an incantation. A small explosion echoed through the Chamber, causing younger Harry and Riddle to look towards the source of the noise. Taking advantage of the distraction, older Harry dashed towards the diary. However, as he reached out, the giant serpent began to stir. The basiliskâs eyes flickered open, and it hissed in rage, sensing an intruder.
"Hermione, the basilisk!" Harry yelled, keeping his eyes averted.
Hermione quickly cast a series of blinding spells towards the basilisk, attempting to drive it away without looking directly at it. The basilisk, now enraged, slithered towards the source of the spells, buying Harry precious seconds. He grabbed the diary and swiftly replaced it with the transfigured version. Just as he completed the switch, the basilisk lunged at him, forcing him to dive out of the way.
From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Riddleâs shade notice the commotion. The older Harry had to remain unseen; any interference could jeopardize their mission. He scrambled back to Hermione, who was still battling the basiliskâs attention.
"Let's get out of here," Harry said, his voice tense and urgent.
They moved stealthily towards the exit, but as they approached, the younger Harry turned around, sensing movement. Hermione quickly cast a Disillusionment Charm, making them blend into the surroundings just in time.
The younger Harry shook his head, dismissing it as a trick of the light, and continued his confrontation with Riddle. The older Harry and Hermione edged past them, hearts pounding, until they were finally clear of the Chamber.
"That was too close," Hermione whispered, still shaking from the encounter.
Harry nodded, holding the intact diary tightly. "But we did it. We got the diary." They hurried back to their Time-Turner rendezvous point, ready to return to the present with their prize. Despite the close calls and the danger, they had succeeded in their mission, leaving the timeline intact and the Horcrux safely in their possession.
Meanwhile, Ron and Genevieve crept into the dilapidated shack, the air thick with the smell of rot. The interior was dark and foreboding, with broken furniture and debris scattered across the floor.
"Stay close," Genevieve whispered. "The ring should be hidden somewhere inside." They carefully navigated the shack, every creak of the floorboards making Ron's heart race. Suddenly, they heard a rustling sound from one of the corners.
Ron froze. "What was that?"
Genevieve motioned for silence and slowly approached the source of the noise. She found an old, ragged cloak covering a small box. Inside, the ring lay nestled in a pile of dusty rags.
"I found it," she whispered, carefully removing the ring and replacing it with the transfigured replica. "Let's get out of here beforeâ", A loud crash echoed through the shack as a piece of the ceiling gave way. Ron and Genevieve jumped back, their hearts pounding.
"Time to go," Ron said, his voice shaking.
They hurried out of the shack, the ring safely in Genevieve's possession. As they reached their rendezvous point, they activated their Time-Turners, ready to return to the present.
Naginiâs eyes remained fixed on the clock. The seconds felt like hours as she waited for any sign from the group. Suddenly, her charm began to glow softly, signaling that they were returning.
In a rush of golden light, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Genevieve reappeared in the library of Grimmauld Place. They were slightly disoriented but relieved to be back. Nagini immediately rushed to their side, her eyes scanning each of them for any signs of trouble.
"Did everything go as planned?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Harry nodded, holding up the intact diary. "We got it."
Ron grinned, pulling the ring from his pocket. "And this too. Everything went smoothly."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief, her shoulders relaxing. "No disruptions. We made the switches perfectly."
Genevieve smiled, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Excellent work, everyone. We did it."
Naginiâs tense expression softened into a smile. "Well done. Now, let's secure these Horcruxes and find the last one, so we can get this thing out of me." The group shared a collective sigh of relief, the weight of their mission lifting. They had succeeded in their perilous journey into the past, retrieving the crucial Horcruxes without altering the fabric of time.
SYNOPSIS: Harry Potter is tormented by a vivid and terrifying vision of Voldemort's venomous snake, Nagini, attacking an unknown victim. The dream leaves him shaken and drenched in sweat, struggling to comprehend its implications. At dawn, he urgently wakes his friends, Hermione and Genevieve, to share the horrifying details. Genevieve, piecing together the clues, is struck by the realization that Harry himself is a Horcrux, a fact that adds a new layer of danger to their mission. Their investigation leads them to Godric's Hollow, where Harry's parents were killed. There, amidst the tranquil snow-covered village, they encounter Bathilda Bagshot, who seems to recognize Harry and beckons them to follow her. However, the tension escalates when Bathilda transforms into Nagini, leading to a frantic escape. In a desperate attempt to protect her friends, Genevieve grabs Nagini and apparates away, leaving Harry and Hermione to return to Grimmauld Place alone. As they anxiously await Genevieve's return, the weight of their mission and the ever-present threat of Voldemort loom larger than ever. Their resolve is tested, but they know they must continue their quest to find and destroy the Horcruxes before Voldemort gains the upper hand.
WARNINGS: Violence and Gore, Graphic Descriptions, Dark Themes, Emotional Distress, Supernatural Horror, Death (Harry's parents) Mental Manipulation. These warnings are intended to prepare readers for the intense and sometimes disturbing content within the story.
WORD COUNT: 5.1k
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Chapter Thirteen
Nagini
In the dead of night, Harry Potter lay in fitful slumber, his dreams plagued by visions of darkness and danger. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through his mind, cutting through the veil of sleep like a knife. He gasped and thrashed in his bed, his forehead beaded with sweat as he struggled against the torment of his vision.
In the depths of his mind, Harry found himself thrust into a scene of chaos and fear. He stood in a dimly lit room, the air thick with the stench of decay and malevolence. Across from him, Nagini, Voldemort's venomous snake, coiled menacingly, her eyes fixed on her prey with lethal intent. Harry's heart raced as he watched helplessly, his every instinct urging him to intervene. But he was powerless, a mere observer trapped within the confines of his own mind. Nagini struck with blinding speed, her fangs sinking into the flesh of her victim with a sickening crunch.
The sound echoed through Harry's consciousness like a thunderclap, jolting him awake with a start. He bolted upright in bed, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. The image of Nagini's attack lingered in his mind, haunting him like a ghost. Shaken to the core, Harry stumbled out of bed, his limbs trembling with adrenaline. He paced the room restlessly, his thoughts racing as he grappled with the implications of his vision.Â
As dawn broke on the horizon, Harry remained lost in contemplation, the weight of his burden heavy upon his shoulders. He knew one thing for certain: the darkness was closing in, and he could no longer afford to ignore the warning signs that lingered in the recesses of his mind. Harry moved to get Hermione and Genevieve awake to warn them of his vision and ask what it could mean.
As the first light of dawn filtered through the windows of Grimmauld, Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve gathered in the cozy sitting room, their faces etched with concern. Harry began to recount the harrowing vision he had experienced in the depths of the night, describing in vivid detail the sight of Nagini attacking her unfortunate victim.
Hermione listened intently, her brow furrowed with worry as she processed Harry's words. "That's terrible, Harry," she murmured sympathetically. "But you have to block your mind to prevent Voldemort from invading your thoughts again. You can't let him manipulate you like that."
Harry's frustration simmered beneath the surface as he nodded in reluctant agreement. "I know, Hermione," he replied, his voice tinged with irritation. "But it's not as easy as just flipping a switch. Voldemort's connection to me is...complicated."
Genevieve's curiosity was piqued by Harry's cryptic words, and she couldn't help but interject with a probing question. "What do you mean, Harry? What connection do you have with Voldemort?"
Harry hesitated, his gaze flickering between Hermione and Genevieve as he grappled with how much to reveal. Finally, he sighed, knowing he couldn't keep the truth hidden any longer. "Ever since my first year at Hogwarts, I've had this...connection with Voldemort," he explained reluctantly. "It's like... a part of him lives inside me. And when he came back to life, the connection became even stronger. I can see into his mind, and he can see into mine." Genevieveâs eyes widened, realization in her mind. She thought, âSo that's how heâs able to sense the HorcruxesâŠhe's a Horcrux himself."
The weight of her revelation hung heavy in the air, the truth of it sinking in with each passing moment. Genevieve's mind continued to reel with the implications of Harry's connection to Voldemort, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place with startling clarity. Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over Genevieve, her stomach churning with a mixture of shock and revulsion. Without a word, she bolted from the room, her footsteps echoing down the hallway as she sought solace in the bathroom. Alone in the sitting room, Harry and Hermione exchanged a worried glance.
Genevieve sat on the edge of the bathtub, her mind swirling with a whirlwind of emotions. The revelation of Harry being a Horcrux himself had hit her like a ton of bricks, shattering her perception of their mission and the stakes involved. She couldn't shake the weight of the truth, the knowledge that Harry was unwittingly carrying a piece of Voldemort's soul within him. As she sat there, lost in thought, Genevieve couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration bubbling up inside her. Frustration at Dumbledore for entrusting such a monumental task to a mere child. Frustration at herself for not realizing the truth sooner. And most of all, frustration at the fact that this all could have been prevented. That the loss of Harryâs parents and the many victims of Voldemort, would have never happened had her father not been stuck up on his own arse.
But amidst the frustration, there was also a glimmer of determination, a resolve to see their mission through to the end. Genevieve knew that they couldn't afford to dwell on Harry's connection to Voldemort, not when there were still Horcruxes out there waiting to be found and destroyed. They had to press on, to finish what they had started, and remove the horcrux out of Harry. With a heavy heart, Genevieve made her decision. She would keep Harry's secret for now, focusing instead on finding the remaining Horcruxes before confronting him with the truth. Especially, with Voldemort sending visions to control and warp Harryâs mind.Â
As she stood up to leave the bathroom, her frustration boiled over, her magic surging with an intensity she couldn't control. With a flick of her wrist, the mirror hanging on the wall shattered into a thousand pieces, the shards clattering to the floor in a symphony of broken glass. Genevieve stared at the shattered reflection before her, the pieces of the mirror reflecting back the fractured pieces of her own soul. In that moment, she realized the true weight of their mission. But she also knew that they were not alone, that they had each other to lean on in the darkest of times. Genevieve took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom determined to find the rest of the horcruxes, as soon as possible.
After fixing herself in the bathroom, Genevieve emerged feeling more composed, her resolve strengthened by her decision to keep Harry's secret for the time being. As she reentered the room where Harry and Hermione were waiting, she offered them a reassuring smile, hoping to put their minds at ease.
"Are you alright, Genevieve?" Hermione asked, her concern evident in her voice.
Genevieve nodded, her smile widening slightly. "Yes, I'm fine. Just needed a moment to collect my thoughts."
Harry looked at her, his green eyes searching her face. "You sure?" he asked, his tone filled with concern.
Genevieve nodded again, more firmly this time. "Yes, Harry, I'm sure. I just had a lot on my mind. But I'm feeling much better now." Hermione glanced at Genevieve, sensing that there was more going on than she was letting on, but decided not to press the issue for now.
"Alright then," she said, her voice brightening. "What's our next move?"
Genevieve took a deep breath, her mind already racing with plans and possibilities. "I think we need to focus on finding a way to retrieve the destroyed Horcruxes," she suggested. "We know that they were destroyed, but that doesn't mean they're gone for good. There must be a way to bring them back, to undo the damage that was done. Otherwise, if we canât find a way to fix them, weâll need to find the intact vessels." Harry and Hermione nodded in agreement, both eager to continue their quest.
"Let's start by doing some more research," Genevieve suggested. "Maybe there's a spell or a potion that can help us reverse the damage on the other side of the library."
Hermione's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect of delving into more magical research. "I'll get started right away," she said eagerly, already reaching for a nearby stack of books.
As the trio sat together, exhaustion weighing heavy on their shoulders after a long day of research and planning, Harry suddenly felt a sharp, searing pain shoot through his scar. He winced, his hand instinctively flying to his forehead as he grimaced in discomfort. "Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked, concern etched in her voice as she leaned forward, her eyes searching his face for any sign of distress.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as the pain subsided, but the memory of the vision lingered in his mind, vivid and haunting. "I...I saw something," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Genevieve's eyes widened with alarm as she watched Harry closely, sensing the gravity of his words. "What did you see?" she asked softly, her own voice tinged with concern.
Harry swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry as he struggled to find the words to describe the images that had flashed before his eyes. "It was Nagini," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "Attacking someone. But then it changed. I saw... I saw Voldemort. He was... he was there, in Godric's Hollow."
Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock as she processed Harry's revelation. "Godric's Hollow?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.Â
Harry's mind raced as he tried to make sense of the vision, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. "That's where it happened," he realized, his voice filled with a mix of dread and determination. "That's where Voldemort killed my parents. That's where it all began."
Genevieve nodded solemnly, the weight of Harry's words settling heavily on her shoulders as she considered the implications. "It makes sense," she agreed, her voice soft but resolute. "Godric's Hollow was a place of significance for Voldemort. It's where he first marked you as his equal, where he tried to end your life." Hermione looked between her friends, her mind spinning with the implications of what Harry's vision could mean. "So you think there's a Horcrux there?" she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
Harry nodded, a steely determination shining in his eyes. "I do," he affirmed. "And we need to find it before Voldemort does." Genevieve and Hermione exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the urgency of their mission. "We'll leave in a couple of days," Genevieve declared, her voice firm with resolve. "We can't afford to waste any time."
A few days later, the trio stood at the edge of Godric's Hollow, the cold December air biting at their faces as snowflakes gently drifted down from the dark, starless sky. The village was quiet, wrapped in a peaceful stillness that seemed to contrast sharply with the turmoil brewing within each of them. Christmas Eve lights twinkle from the windows of the quaint cottages, casting a warm, festive glow across the snow-covered streets. Genevieve, Harry, and Hermione huddled together, their breath visible in the frosty air as they made their way toward the old cemetery. Harry led the way, his heart pounding in his chest as they approached the graveyard where his parents were buried. The memory of his vision, the flash of green light and the sight of his parents' lifeless bodies, haunted him with every step.
"We need to be careful," Hermione whispered, her voice barely audible over the crunch of snow beneath their feet. "If there really is a Horcrux here, we can't risk alerting You-Know-Who."
Genevieve nodded, her eyes scanning their surroundings for any signs of danger. "Agreed. Let's split up and look for any clues that might indicate where the Horcrux could be hidden."
Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. "I'll start and check near the graveyard," he said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him. "Maybe there's something there that could give us a hint." Hermione squeezed his arm reassuringly. Genevieve offered him a small, encouraging smile before they separated, each of them moving to different parts of the cemetery. The ancient headstones loomed like silent sentinels, their inscriptions barely visible in the dim light. Harry knelt beside his parents' graves, tracing his fingers over their names carved into the cold, weathered stone. After a while, Genevieve and Hermione moved to stand right next to Harry.
Hermione looked at him and smiled, tears forming in her own eyes, when she moved her wand to conjure flowers to surround his parentâs graves. They stayed in silence for a bit, until they moved away from the tombstone, and walked through the snow, Genevieve walking a bit behind them. They passed by many different graves and headed back towards the now dark church and the out-of-sight kissing gate.
"Harry, Hermione, stop," Genevieve said, standing right behind them.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked.
They had only just reached the grave of the unknown Abbott, "There's someone there. Someone's watching us. There, over by the bushes." They stood quite still, gazing at the dense black boundary of the graveyard. Harry and Hermione could not see anything, "Are you sure?" Harry asked.
"I saw something move," Genevieve had her wand out, hidden slightly behind Harry, waiting to see who was there.
For a moment, nothing happened, "Let's go, if it were a Death Eater, we'd be dead already, or at least fighting against them," Harry said.
"Alright," Genevieve said. She looked at Hermione and saw that she was on edge. Harry walked ahead and he walked up beside Hermione, putting an arm around her shoulders to lead her forward. As they exited the graveyard, Genevieve noticed they were meandering back towards Harry's former home. On the way, she looked at every cottage they passed, but none of them stuck out to her.
When they arrived at the Potterâs old home, they were all filled with an anxiousness and uncertainty for what laid ahead. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since James and Lily were killed. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart, âThat's where the Killing Curse backfired,â Genevieve thought, âwhere Lily gave her life for Harry.â They stood at the gate, gazing at the wreck of what was once a cottage like the others around them.
"I wonder why nobody's ever rebuilt it?" Hermione asked.
"Maybe you can't rebuild it?" Harry suggested, "Maybe it's like the injuries from Dark Magic and you can't repair the damage?"
"Or it was left like this as a reminder of that night," Genevieve said, just as Harry touched the gate, and it turned out that his answer was the correct one. A sign had risen out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeds, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:
On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives.
Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse.
This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family.
"You were right about it being left like this intentionally," Harry said. All around the neatly lettered words, scribbles had been added by other witches and wizards who had come to see the place where The Boy Who Lived had escaped. Some had merely signed their names in Everlasting Ink; others had carved their initials into the wood, still others had left messages. The most recent of these, shining brightly over sixteen years' worth of magical graffiti, all said similar things.Â
Good luck, Harry, wherever you are.
If you read this, Harry, we're all behind you!
Long live Harry Potter!
"Brilliant," Harry muttered quietly. The snow creaked to the side of them. They turned to see a heavily muffled figure hobbling up the lane toward them, silhouetted by the bright lights in the distant square. Genevieve had kept her wand primed, just in case. Even though it was hard to make out, she thought the figure looked to be that of an older woman, someone she thought she recognized. She was moving slowly, though that could've been to keep herself from slipping on the snowy ground.
Her stoop, her stoutness, her shuffling gait all gave an impression of extreme age. Genevieve knew at once who this was supposed to be, and who in fact, was related to her. She walked ever closer to the ruins of the home, and when she was about 10 yards away from them, she was looking right at the ruined cottage. The ruins were invisible to Muggles, so this told them she was not a Muggle. She turned to them after a while and beckoned them to follow her.
Did she know who they were? Was she waiting for them all these long months? Did Dumbledore tell her to wait for Harry to come along, as he would no doubt do so? Genevieve figured maybe it was this woman that had been in the shadows of the graveyard. When she saw her motion again, more vigorously, she asked, "Are you Bathilda?"
She nodded to her and beckoned again. Genevieve took a step towards her, but she remained unmoved until Harry and Hermione also followed. The moment they did, she turned at once and began to hobble back the way they came. Leading them past several houses, she turned in at a gate. Genevieve couldnât believe that this was her aunt. She had never had the chance to meet her and she couldnât believe that she was still alive.
They followed Bathilda up the front path through a garden nearly as overgrown as the one they had just left. She fumbled for a moment with a key at the front door, then opened it and stepped back to let them pass.
Genevieve couldn't tell if it was her or her home that had a horrible smell to it, but it caused her to wrinkle her nose as she stepped past her. Once they were all inside, she closed the door behind them, her knuckles blue and mottled against the peeling paint, then turned and peered into Harry's face. Genevieve could see her face now that it was more visible; her eyes were thick with cataracts and sunken in folds of transparent skin, and her whole face was dotted with broken veins and liver spots.
The odor of old age, of dust, of unwashed clothes and stale food intensified as she unwound a moth-eaten black shawl, revealing a head of scant white hair through which the scalp showed clearly.
"Bathilda?" Harry asked.
She nodded again before shuffling past them, pushing Hermione aside as though she had not seen her, and vanished into what seemed to be a sitting room.
"I'm not sure about this," Hermione breathed quietly.
"Look at the size of her, I think we could overpower her if we had to," Harry said, âListen, I should have told you, I knew she wasn't all there. Muriel called her 'gaga."
"Come!" Bathilda called from the next room.
Hermione jumped and clutched Genevieve's arm, "It's okay, Hermione," she said and led her behind Harry into the sitting room.
Bathilda was tottering around the place lighting candles, but it was still very dark, not to mention extremely dirty. Thick dust crunched beneath their feet, and Genevieve's nose detected, underneath the dank and mildewed smell, something worse, like meat gone bad. She wondered when was the last time anyone had been inside Bathilda's house to check whether she was coping. She seemed to have forgotten that she could do magic too, for she lit the candles clumsily by hand, her trailing cuff in constant danger of catching fire.
"Let me do that," Harry offered as he gently took the matches from her. She stood watching him as he finished lighting the candle stubs that stood on saucers around the room, perched precariously on stacks of books and on side tables crammed with cracked and moldy cups.
Genevieve looked around the room as Bathilda fumbled with some logs for the fire, and she heard ever so quietly, "Tergio," and looked over at Harry. He quietly stepped over to see what he was looking at. There were some photographs that likely had thick layers of dust on them seconds before Harry muttered the spell. They noticed some pictures were gone from the largest and most ornate frames.
She saw Harry snatch up a photo that was near the back. In it was a golden-haired, merry faced young man arm-in-arm with a young Albus Dumbledore, the same one Harry had seen back in Umbridge's Office.
"Mrs. - Miss - Bagshot?" Harry asked, his voice shook slightly as he did,
"Who is this?"
"Harry, I know who that is, tha-" Genevieve was about to tell him, but when Harry spoke again, he realized he wasn't listening.
"Miss Bagshot?" He asked again, and they both turned to see that she was watching Hermione help with lighting the fire. "Who is this person?" He asked again as he advanced toward Bathilda, photo in hand.
Bathilda looked up at his voice just as the fire danced to life in the fireplace.
She peered at it solemnly, then up at Harry. At this point, Genevieve became suspicious about Bathilda and remained quiet. She wanted to see if Bathilda knew.
 "Do you know who this is?" Harry asked calmly, but loudly so she could hear him, "Do you know his name?"
She made no indication she heard him speak at all, she merely peered at Harry, "Who is this man?" Harry asked slowly again.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.
"This picture, Hermione, it's the thief, the thief who stole from Gregorovitch! Please," he turned to Bathilda again as he spoke, "Who is this?"
Bathilda shuffled a few steps closer to Harry; with a little jerk of her head, she looked back into the hall.
"You want us to leave?" Harry asked. She repeated the gesture, this time pointing firstly at him, then at herself, then at the ceiling.
"Oh, right...Hermione, Genevieve, I think she wants me to go upstairs with her."
"All right, let's go," Hermione said, moving to go up the stairs, but Harry stopped her.
"Just me," he said.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.
"I can tell by looking at Miss Bagshot," he said, looking right at her. She nodded, and Harry accompanied her. When they left the room, Hermione turned to Genevieve, "What was that about?"
"That person Harry was asking about, he never mentioned to me how he knew that he was a thief,â Genevieve said, "But there is something wrong with Bathilda. The person Harry was talking about was my father, Gellert. I wonder what made him say that."
"I don't know, he never mentioned it to me or Ron," Hermione said.
"My father stole something from Gregorovitch, the wand maker?...that canât be rightâŠWhy would he want to steal from a wand-" Genevieve stopped, unsure of what exactly could be so special about Gregorovitch. She was mid sentence, when they suddenly heard Harry yelling, "He's coming! Hermione, he's coming!"
They both looked at each other, knowing exactly what Harry meant; Voldemort was on his way. Genevieve and Hermione rushed up the stairs and saw that Bathilda Bagshot was actually not Bathilda Bagshot at all, but there was now a Snake upstairs with Harry, and they both knew it to be Nagini. Genevieve aimed her wand at Nagini, "Immobulus!" She yelled, and it caused Nagini to freeze just enough to back off long enough for them to grab Harry. The time to be gentle had long passed, she grabbed Harry roughly by the shoulder and pushed him with Hermione toward the window, "Jump!" She yelled, she knew Hermione would apparate Harry back to the Grimmauld. Then, Genevieve heard a loud crash, telling her they jumped out of the window. She saw Nagini, prepared to strike, when another figure was seen flying from the sky about to enter the home; it was Voldemort. She felt the similarity between Nagini and Voldemort in such a short instant. She decided to do something absolutely crazy. She aimed her wand at Nagini and yelled, âAccio.â The second she unleashed the spell, she turned and grabbed Nagini and apparated out of the house, heading away from Grimmauld Place.
Harry and Hermione stumbled into Grimmauld Place, their breaths ragged and their hearts pounding from the narrow escape at Bathilda Bagshotâs house. The dark, decrepit walls of the old house seemed like a safe haven compared to the horrors they had just faced. They leaned against the door, trying to catch their breath. Hermione clutched her side, where a jagged tear in her coat revealed a scrape from their frantic dash.
"Are you okay?" Harry gasped, his voice rough from the cold night air.
"I think so," Hermione replied, wincing slightly as she inspected her wound. "What about you?"
"Iâm fine," Harry said, though his mind was already racing with a new worry. "But... where's Genevieve?"
Hermioneâs eyes widened with realization and fear. "She was right behind us," she said, her voice trembling. They turned to look back at the door, hoping to see Genevieve appear at any moment. The silence of the house pressed down on them, amplifying their anxiety.
"She must be okay," Harry said, trying to reassure himself as much as Hermione. "Sheâs strong. Maybe sheâs just... sheâs coming." Minutes stretched into what felt like hours as they waited, their fear growing with each passing second. The memory of Naginiâs attack replayed in Harryâs mind, and he shivered at the thought of Genevieve facing that horror alone.
Hermione began pacing, her worry palpable. "We need to do something," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "We canât just stand here."
Harry nodded, his jaw set in determination. "Weâll give her a few. If she doesnât come, weâll have to go back."
Genevieve stood in the cold, deserted house, the chill of the night seeping through the cracked windows. She glanced around, making sure they were truly alone. Nagini, still reeling from the shock of the attack, coiled menacingly on the dusty floor, her eyes glinting with malice. Genevieve knew she had only moments before the serpent recovered enough to strike.
With a swift flick of her wand, Genevieve cast a freezing spell, "Immobulus," freezing Nagini in place. The serpent's body stiffened, and Genevieve wasted no time conjuring a sturdy cage around her. Nagini's eyes darted wildly, filled with a mixture of rage and fear. Genevieve took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She approached the cage cautiously, her wand still at the ready. In a calm, soothing voice, she began speaking in Parseltongue, the ancient language of snakes.
"Nagini, can you underssstand me?" Nagini's eyes locked onto Genevieve's, a flicker of recognition passing through them.
"Yesssss," she hissed, her voice filled with anger. "What do you want from me, witch?"
Genevieve knelt beside the cage, her expression gentle but firm. "I know you weren't alwayssss like thissss. You were human once, weren't you? You ssserved my father before, Gellert Grindelwald."
Nagini's body tensed, her eyes narrowing. "Yessss," she admitted reluctantly. "I wassss cursssed. Now I ssserve my new massster, the Dark Lord. He promisssed to make me human again." Genevieve's heart ached with empathy. She leaned closer, her voice soft and earnest. "He'sss lying to you, Nagini. He usssing you assss a vessssel for hisss sssoul, asss a weapon. He will never make you human again asss long asss he livess."
Nagini's eyes flickered with confusion and doubt. "How do you know thisss?"
"Because I know him," Genevieve replied. "I know hisss true nature. He only caresss about himsself and hisss power. He will never keep hisss promisse to you."Â
The serpent's gaze wavered, a hint of vulnerability breaking through her fierce exterior. "What do you want from me?"
"I want to help you," Genevieve said, her voice filled with sincerity. "I can remove the sssoul fragment insside you. I can break the curssse and help you become human again. But I need your trussst."
Nagini's eyes bore into Genevieve's, searching for any hint of deceit. After a long, tense moment, she finally nodded. "Alright," she hissed. "I will trussst you. But if you betray me, I will kill you."
Genevieve nodded, accepting the terms. She waved her wand, lifting the freezing spell and opening the cage. Nagini slithered out, her movements cautious and wary.
"Firsst, promissse me you won't harm anyone," Genevieve said firmly.
"I promissse," Nagini replied, her voice a mix of exhaustion and resolve.
Genevieve took a deep breath, focusing her magic. She murmured an incantation, her wand glowing with a soft, ethereal light. Slowly, she began the delicate process of bringing Nagini back to her human form, keeping the soul fragment intact to prevent alerting Voldemort. The serpent's body convulsed as the dark energy was drawn out, but Genevieve remained steady, her concentration unwavering. Nagini's body relaxed, her eyes closing in relief.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling with gratitude and pain. Nagini was back to her human form.
"You're human now. I will still need to extract the soul fragment but now wouldnât be the best time," Genevieve said softly. "We have a lot more to do before I remove his soul from you. It might take a bit of time but I never back out of my promises. We need to defeat him, together."
Nagini nodded, her determination matching Genevieve's. "Let's end this," she said. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Genevieve, her savior. With a nod of understanding, Genevieve took her hand. "Let's go," she said, and with a swift motion, they apparated to Grimmauld Place.
They arrived in the old, dark house, where Harry and Hermione waited anxiously. Their expressions shifted from shock to hope as they saw Genevieve and the newly transformed Nagini.
âGenevieve, what happened?â Harry asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Genevieve smiled, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes. "We have a new ally," she said. "Nagini was the horcrux in your vision. She still has a fragment of his soul but once we find the last three, weâll be able to complete our task. Sheâll help us figure out the rest and take him down."
Hermione stepped forward, her eyes filled with determination. "Welcome," she said to the former serpent. "Together, we'll bring him down."
Nagini nodded, a new sense of purpose in her gaze. "Together," she agreed. And with that, their mission took on a new sense of urgency and hope, just almost at the finish line, to bring back Tom and to end Voldemort, once and for all.
SYNOPSIS: With renewed hope and a plan in motion, Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve set their sights on the next step in their quest to defeat Voldemort and find the next Horcrux. Ron contemplates his decision of leaving his friends behind. As they discussed their strategy late into the night, the weight of their mission felt lighter, buoyed by the knowledge that they weren't alone in their fight, recruiting another member in their mission.
WARNINGS: Themes of loss, danger, and uncertainty present in this chapter, there are moments of emotional intensity and suspense. Additionally, there are elements of fantasy and magic intertwined with the narrative.
WORD COUNT: 1.4k
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Chapter Twelve
Ravenclaw's Diadem
As Genevieve drifts into the realm of dreams, a familiar scene unfolds before her eyes. She and Tom are wandering the halls of Hogwarts, their laughter echoing off the stone walls as they playfully tease each other. There's a sense of warmth and camaraderie between them, a bond that transcends the chaos of the outside world.Â
But then, Tom's expression shifts, his eyes alight with excitement as he whispers in her ear, âLetâs go to the Come and Go Room.â Before she can protest, he's already taken her hand and is pulling her along with him, his determination palpable. They arrive at the Room of Requirement, its form shifting to accommodate their needs. As the door swings open, Genevieve is met with a sight that takes her breath away. The room is filled with an array of trinkets and treasures, each one more intriguing than the last.
She can't help but tease Tom, her words laced with playful banter as she jokingly asks, âThought you were going to ask the Room for a bed like last time.â Tom's response is quick, his smirk matching hers as he fires back with a sly remark of his own. âThat can still be arranged.â He moves closer to her face and says, âBut you and I know we wonât leave if we do.â
Genevieve playfully rolled her eyes, and slightly pushed his shoulder and started to walk around the room. Tom, still smirking, started to follow right behind her. Together, they explored the room, their eyes alight with wonder as they examined each item with fascination. But then, Genevieve's gaze lands on a small box tucked away in the corner, its contents hidden from view. She calls out to Tom, excitement bubbling within her as she beckons him over.
Tom says, âWhat is it, love?âÂ
Genevieve replies as she inspects the box. âIâm not sure. Shall we open it?â Tom merely nods and slightly inches forward next to her. They open the box together, and in an instant, their breath catches in their throats. There, nestled within the velvet lining, lies Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem, its beauty captivating and its power undeniable. But before they can fully grasp the significance of their discovery, Genevieve is jolted awake, her heart racing as she gasps for breath. The remnants of the dream cling to her mind, the image of the Diadem burned into her memory. With a sense of urgency coursing through her veins, Genevieve realizes that the Diadem is back at Hogwarts. Without hesitation, she leaps from her bed and rushes to wake Harry and Hermione, knowing that time is of the essence.
Moving swiftly through the silent corridors, Genevieve reaches Harry and Hermione's rooms and gently knocks on the door. She hears movement from within, and moments later, the door creaks open to reveal Harry's sleepy face, his glasses askew.
"Genevieve? What's wrong?" Harry asks, his voice thick with sleep.
Genevieve wastes no time, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I had a dream about the Come and Go Room at Hogwarts. I saw Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem there."
Hermione, who had been roused by the conversation, steps forward, her eyes widening. "The Diadem? Are you sure?"
Genevieve nods fervently. "Yes, it was vivid, like I was really there. We need to go to Hogwarts.
Hermione nods and asks, âBut how are we going to get in or even the diadem at all? Me and Harry are wanted, youâre supposedly dead, and we donât know whatâs going on inside?â
Harryâs brain lit up just as Hermione finished her sentence. âWhat about the DA coin? What if we reach out and ask for help to find the diadem on the inside from someone we can trust.âÂ
Hermione beamed, âYouâre right. We can maybe ask Neville for help! Heâs most likely to be at Hogwarts right now.â
Harry, dumbfoundedly confused, asked, âWhy Neville out of everyone?â
Hermione moved to smack Harryâs head with a book. âBecause Neville is the only one who we know who is at Hogwarts right now that would rather die than rat us out. He found the Room of Requirement before any of us. He can find the diadem for us.âÂ
Genevieve then spoke, âThen we can retrieve it during Yule break. Once he has it, you can tell him to keep it hidden in his room until he goes back home.âÂ
Harry smiled and nodded. âThen letâs see if he answers us.â
Ron sits on the edge of the bed, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty and guilt. Outside, the world moves on, oblivious to the internal turmoil raging within him. Hermione's face flashes in his mind, her eyes filled with worry and disappointment as he left Grimmauld Place. Guilt gnaws at him, twisting in his gut as he remembers the hurt in her voice when she called out his name. But amidst the guilt, there's also a deep-seated fear, a fear of being left behind, of being overshadowed by Harry and Hermione's brilliance and courage. Ron knows he's not as talented or as brave as his friends, and the thought of holding them back weighs heavily on his mind.
As he contemplates his next move, Ron's gaze drifts to the worn backpack sitting on the floor. Inside are a few meager belongings, remnants of a life left behind. He knows he should go back, face his friends, face Hermione, but the thought fills him with dread. With a heavy sigh, Ron rises from the bed and moves to the window, peering out into the night. The street below is quiet, the only sound is the distant hum of traffic. It's a world away from the wizarding world he knows, and yet, it feels strangely comforting in its familiarity.
But deep down, Ron knows he can't stay hidden forever. He knows he has to face his fears, face Hermione, and make amends for his actions. With a newfound resolve, he gathers his things and sets out into the night, determined to find his way back home, back to his friends, and back to the person he knows he can be.
Harry sat in his room, clutching the DA coin in his hand, his heart pounding with anticipation. He knew this was risky, but he had to reach out to Neville, their trusted friend who now resided at Hogwarts. With a deep breath, Harry activated the coin, watching as the gold token glowed faintly in the darkness before him. Moments passed, each one feeling like an eternity, until finally, a message came through the silence.
"Harry? Is that you?"Â
"Yeah, Neville, it's me," Harry replied. "Listen, I need your help with something important."
"Of course, Harry, anything," Neville responded. Harry wasted no time, quickly explaining his request to Neville, outlining the details of their plan to retrieve Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem from the Room of Requirement.
 "I'll do it, Harry," he wrote back determinedly. "I'll visualize the diadem in a room filled with trinkets and make sure to hide it in my luggage. I won't interact with it any more than necessary."
Relief flooded through Harry as he went to thank Neville through the coin. "Be careful, Neville," he warned. "And don't let anyone see you."
"Don't worry, Harry," Neville assured him. "I'll make sure everything goes smoothly." Harry took a deep breath and moved to gather in the cozy sitting room to share the news he had received from Neville.
"Guys, I have something important to tell you," Harry began, his voice carrying a sense of urgency that immediately caught Genevieve and Hermione's attention.
Hermione looked up from the book she was reading, her brow furrowing with concern. "What is it, Harry? Is everything alright?"
Harry took a deep breath, his excitement bubbling beneath the surface. "Neville got back to me," he announced, unable to contain the grin that spread across his face.
Genevieve's eyes widened with interest, her curiosity piqued. "What did he say?"
"He's going to help us find the diadem," Harry revealed, his words filled with hope. "He's going to look for it in the Room of Requirement, hide it in his luggage, and bring it back here for us." A wave of relief washed over Hermione's features as she processed Harry's words. "That's wonderful news," she exclaimed, a hint of excitement creeping into her voice.
Genevieve smiled, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Harry," she said sincerely. "This could be the breakthrough we've been waiting for."
Harry nodded, a sense of determination settling over him. "We're getting closer, guys," he declared, his voice ringing with conviction. "With Neville's help, we'll have the diadem in no time."
SYNOPSIS: Back at Grimmauld, tensions rise with the presence of a Horcrux, as Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve figure out the rest of the objects that Tom turned into vessels of his soul. Ron, feeling the rouse of the darkness of the Slytherin locket, starts an argument leading toward a scuffle between him and his best mate. Ron leaves to head back home, leaving Hermione and Harry devastated. Genevieve comforts the two as she figures out the next location to search for a Horcrux and goes on a mission to enter Bellatrix Black's vault to successfully find and retrieve Helga Hufflepuff's Cup.
WARNINGS: This chapter contains scenes of dark magical objects, arguments, scuffles between friends, trauma, loss, guilt, and the use of an Unforgivable curse (Imperius Curse).
WORD COUNT: 5.6k
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Chapter Eleven
Hufflepuff's Cup
Back at the library, Genevieve had placed the locket in a safe place, knowing how dangerous and dark the object was. Now the trio and Genevieve were investigating the next set of horcruxes they needed to find. It was obvious that the Diary and Locket were the first two, and Genevieve had suspicions of Tomâs ring to be another horcrux due to his connection with them. The other four were going to be the mystery to solve.
"We need to think like Tom," Genevieve murmured, her eyes scanning the pages of an old grimoire. "He wouldn't choose just any object for his Horcruxes. They must hold significance to him. Aside from his lineage, I know Hogwarts is very important to him.â
Harry, his mind racing, asked, "But what kind of objects would he choose to represent Hogwarts? Itâs not like there is much aside from the castle."
Hermione's eyes lit up as she rifled through a stack of books. "Wait, the Founders of HogwartsâŠThey each had treasured possessions, didn't they?"
Genevieve's gaze sharpened as she considered Hermione's words. "Yes, you're right. Salazar Slytherin's locket was already one of them, and represented Tom and his family. Arenât there others as well?"
Hermione reached for a large tome titled "A History of Hogwarts" and began flipping through its pages. "According to this, Godric Gryffindor had a sword, which Harry fought the Basilisk with, Helga Hufflepuff possessed a cup, and Rowena Ravenclaw always wore a diadem."
Harry's eyes widened with realization. "So, aside from Slytherin's locket, the other trinkets most likely became Horcruxes."
Genevieve nodded in agreement. "Exactly. And given that Gryffindor's sword only presents itself to someone with courage and in need of the sword, it's unlikely to be a Horcrux. That leaves us with Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem."
Hermione's fingers traced the words on the page as she read aloud, "Helga Hufflepuff's cup was a treasured artifact passed down through generations of her descendants. And Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem was said to enhance the wisdom of its wearer."
Genevieve's eyes gleamed with determination. "Then those must be our next targets. We need to find Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem before Voldemort does."
Harry clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "Agreed. We'll search every corner of the wizarding world if we have to. We can't let Voldemort succeed. Then the three heard something and in an instant, saw the lights go out, making the three jump only for Ron to come with the Deluminator.
"One problem, we donât know where the trinkets are." Ron said and he put the lights back on. "Yeah, I'm still here. But you three carry on. Don't let me spoil the fun." Ron told them and Harry gritted his teeth. Genevieve took a step back to observe what was going to happen and noticed that he had the locket around his neck. She asked herself, How the hell did he get it? I locked it in the desk drawer.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked him.
"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. Not according to you, anyway." Ron told him.
"Look, if you've got something to say, don't be shy. Spit it out." Harry said to him, irritated.
"Alright, I'll spit it out. But don't expect me to be grateful just because there's another damn thing we've gotta find." Ron said and Harry narrowed his eyes at him.
"I thought you knew what you signed up for, Ron."Â
"Yeah. I thought I did too." Ron told them.Â
"Well then Ron, I'm sorry but I don't quite understand what you're trying to say to me." Harry exclaimed sarcastically to him. "What part of this isn't living up to your expectations? Did you think we were gonna be staying in a five star hotel? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Thought you'd be back with your mum by Christmas?"
"I just thought, after all this time we would've achieved something. I thought you knew what you were doing." Ron mouthed to Harry, and Hermione exchanged looks to Genevieve with worry. "I thought Dumbledore told you something worthwhile. I thought you had a plan."
"I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed we found a Horcrux already." Harry told him with anger.
"Yeah, and we're as close to getting rid of it as we are finding the rest of them." Ron retorted back to me.
Genevieve went towards Ron. "Ron. take the Horcrux off. You have no idea what youâre saying. Just give it to me.â She said with her hand stretched toward him.Â
"Do you know why I listen to that radio? To make sure I don't hear my mumâs name, or my dadâs or Fred or George or Ginny." Ron said frustrated.
"What, you don't think I'm not listening? You think I don't know how it feels?!" Harry shouted at him in frustration.
"No, you don't know how it feels! Your parents are dead! You have no family!" Ron shouted at Harry, like a slap to a face. He felt extremely angry and dived and started hitting Ron. A brawl had started. Genevieve rolled her eyes at the immaturity of the two boys. Merlin help me if I have to deal with this shit all over again, she thought of as she recalled how Tom and Malfoy would do the exact same thing back in her time.Â
"Stop. Stop!" Hermione shouted at them.
"Fine, then go!" Harry shouted at him with anger. "Go, then!"Â
"Fine." Ron said and took off the locket as he grabbed his bag and scowled at Hermione and Harry.
"Ron." Hermione said to him.
"And you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Are you coming or are you staying?"Hermione just stood still, conflicted.
 "Fine I get it. Iâve seen the both of you recently.â Ron jabbed.
"It's not like that." Hermione said to him. "Ron you're angry and I get it but you have to calm down." Hermione said but Ron walked out, and Hermione moved to reach him. Hermione ran out for him when they heard a WHOOSH. Ron was gone.
In the quiet solitude of Grimmauld Place, Genevieve found Hermione sitting alone in the dimly lit library, her eyes red-rimmed from tears and her expression drawn with sadness. The tension in the air was palpable, a lingering reminder of the argument that had just unfolded between Ron and Harry.
Approaching her with a gentle smile, Genevieve took a seat beside Hermione and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey there, Hermione. Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with concern. Hermione let out a shaky breath, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know, Genevieve. Everything just feels so... complicated right now," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion.
Genevieve nodded in understanding, her gaze warm and empathetic. "I know, Hermione. It's been a rough day," she replied, her tone soothing. "But you're not alone. We're all here for you, no matter what." Hermione offered a weak smile, grateful for Genevieve's comforting presence. "Thanks, Genevieve. It just... hurts, you know? Seeing Ron and Harry fight like that. I hate seeing them at odds with each other."
Genevieve squeezed Hermione's shoulder gently, her expression filled with compassion. "I understand, Hermione. It's never easy when the people we care about are at odds with each other," she said softly. "But remember, Ron and Harry have been through so much together. They'll work things out eventually."
Hermione nodded, her features softening as she took comfort in Genevieve's words. "You're right, Genevieve. I just...I just wish Ron wouldnât have left like that," she admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. Genevieve smiled reassuringly, her eyes shining with understanding. "Horcruxes tend to do that. Theyâre vessels of the darkest parts of one soul. And in the meantime, if you ever need someone to talk to or just a shoulder to lean on, I'll be right here," she promised, her voice filled with sincerity.
Hermione's smile grew more genuine, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "Thank you, Genevieve. I really appreciate it," she said, her voice soft with gratitude. With a comforting squeeze of Hermione's shoulder, Genevieve offered her friend a reassuring smile. "Anytime, Hermione. We're in this together, remember?" she said, her voice warm and supportive. As they sat together in the quiet of the library, Hermione found solace in Genevieveâs company, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment. And amidst the turmoil and uncertainty, she knew that Genevieve was someone who she could count on to unbear the weight sheâs carried all along.Â
The darkness of the night cloaked in an eerie stillness as Genevieve made her way through the dimly lit corridors. The weight of the day's events hung heavy on her shoulders, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. As she wandered the ancient halls, her thoughts turned to Harry, wondering how he was coping with everything that had transpired. Turning a corner, Genevieve spotted a faint light emanating from the Black Tapestry room. Curiosity piqued, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, her gaze falling upon Harry pacing back and forth, his expression clouded with frustration and sadness.
"Harry?" Genevieve called out softly, her voice breaking the silence of the room.
Startled, Harry turned to face her, his eyes tired and weary. "Genevieve," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "What are you doing up at this hour?"
"I could ask you the same thing," Genevieve replied, her tone gentle as she approached him. "I couldn't sleep. And it seems like you're having trouble too."
Harry let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "It's Ron," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our fight earlier, and I just can't shake this feeling of guilt."
Genevieve placed a comforting hand on Harry's arm, her eyes filled with empathy. "Harry, it's not your fault," she said firmly, her voice laced with conviction. "Remember what I said about the Horcrux? It has a way of magnifying our darkest thoughts and emotions. Your fight with Ron was a result of that influence."
Harry nodded, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "I know, but... it's hard not to blame myself," he admitted, his voice wavering with emotion. "Especially after everything that's happened."
Genevieve took a step closer to Harry, her expression softening with compassion. "I understand, Harry. But you have to remember that you're not alone in this. We're all here for you, no matter what," she said earnestly, her voice filled with sincerity.
Harry looked at Genevieve, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I miss him, Genevieve," he confessed, his voice cracking with emotion. "I miss Sirius so much. And every time I think about what happened... it just hurts."
Genevieve pulled Harry into a comforting embrace, holding him close as he let out a choked sob. "I know, Harry. I know," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing presence in the darkness. "But you have to remember that it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to save him."
Harry clung to Genevieve, his shoulders trembling with emotion. "But it wasn't enough," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with tears. "I failed him."
Genevieve shook her head, her heart aching for his pain. "No, Harry. You didn't fail him. You fought for him with every ounce of your being," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "And even though he's gone, his memory lives on in you. You carry his legacy with you, always." Harry buried his face in Genevieve's shoulder, seeking solace in her comforting embrace. For a moment, they stood together in the darkness, finding strength in each other's presence. And as the weight of Harry's grief began to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope.Â
She says softly, âIt's late. You should get some rest.â
Harry said, âI know, but I can't seem to quiet my mind.â
âI understand, but pacing around won't solve anything. Sometimes, you just need to let go of your worries and trust that things will be better in the morning.â
âEasier said than done.â
âI know, but you need to take care of yourself. You've been through so much already. You deserve some peace.â
âI just can't shake this feeling of uneasiness.â
âI get it. But worrying won't change anything. Right now, what you need most is rest. Trust me, things always look better after a good night's sleep.â
âOkay, you win. I'll try to get some sleep.â
âThat's the spirit. I'll be right here if you need anything. Goodnight, Harry.â
âGoodnight, Genevieve.â Harry says as he yawns. He moves to head back to sleep, leaving Genevieve standing in the room with her own racing thoughts.
As Genevieve stood before the Black Tapestry, her gaze fixed upon the intricate threads that wove together the history of the ancient family, her mind was a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The dreams haunted her still, vivid and unsettling. Two children, innocent and full of life, torn away from her grasp in a cruel twist of fate.Â
And then there was Tom. His anguished outcry, his desperate plea for her return, echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain. The memory of his pain cut deep, a sharp reminder of the bond they once shared, before everything fell apart. But amidst the sorrow and the uncertainty, there was a flicker of determination burning within her. She refused to let despair consume her, refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to engulf her.
For she knew that she had a purpose, a mission that transcended her own pain. She would bring Tom back, no matter the cost. She would defy fate itself if she had to, to see him standing before her once again. The path ahead was fraught with danger, filled with obstacles she could scarcely imagine. But she would face them head-on, with unwavering resolve and unyielding determination. For Tom was her everything, her reason for being. And she would not rest until she had him back by her side, where he rightfully belonged.
As Genevieve's eyes scanned the intricate patterns of the Black Tapestry, tracing the lineage of the ancient family through the ages, her thoughts swirled with a mixture of curiosity and unease. The most recent additions to the tapestry caught her attention, the two Black sisters standing out amongst the myriad of names and faces of Bellatrix and Narcissa. She also seemed to notice that someone had been blasted off the tapestry. Genevieve closed her eyes and hummed. She touched the blasted hole and let her magic run through her fingers and not a second later, she saw that she fixed it. Another sister appeared before her, Andromeda Black. Genevieve couldn't help but wonder what had happened.Â
But as her gaze lingered on their names, a sense of foreboding washed over her. The sisters were entwined in a web of darkness and deceit, if she knew the Blacks at all, and she sure did. Their lives were shaped by forces beyond their control. Genevieve tore her gaze away from the tapestry, feeling a sense of disquiet settle over her. Leaving the room behind, she made her way through the corridors, her steps guided by a sense of purpose. She sought out Walburga, the matriarch of the Black family, hoping to glean some insight into the secrets that lay buried within the ancient walls.
As she approached Walburga's portrait, she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. She had questions that needed answers, truths that needed to be uncovered. And she would not rest until she had unraveled the mysteries of the past, and perhaps, a glimmer of hope for the future.
Genevieve stood before the imposing portrait of Walburga Black, her former friend and confidante. The stern-faced woman in the portrait regarded her with a mixture of suspicion and disdain, her lips drawn into a tight line.
"Walburga," Genevieve began tentatively, her voice echoing softly in the quiet hallway. "I need to speak with you."
Walburga's expression softened slightly at the sound of Genevieve's voice, a flicker of recognition crossing her features. "Genevieve," she replied curtly. "What brings you here?"
Genevieve hesitated for a moment before pressing on, her curiosity outweighing her apprehension. "I wanted to ask you about your nieces â Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. What happened to them?"
A shadow passed over Walburga's face at the mention of her nieces, a mix of sorrow and regret clouding her eyes. "Ah, my dear nieces," she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. "They were once the pride of the Black family, shining examples of pureblood heritage." She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "Bellatrix, the eldest, was always the most fervent in her devotion to the Dark Lord. From a young age, she showed a ruthless determination to prove herself, to earn his favor at any cost." Genevieve listened intently, absorbing every word as Walburga recounted the tale of her nieces' descent into darkness.
"Andromeda," Walburga continued, her voice tinged with regret, "chose a different path, one that led her away from the family's traditions and into the arms of a Muggle-born wizard. She betrayed our bloodline, shaming us all with her disgraceful actions." \Genevieve frowned at the harshness of Walburga's words, sensing the pain that lay beneath her facade of disdain.
"And Narcissa," Genevieve prompted, her curiosity piqued by the mention of the youngest Black sister.
"Narcissa," Walburga sighed, her voice heavy with sorrow. "She too was ensnared by the machinations of the Dark Lord, but her motives were driven not by loyalty, but by love. She sought to protect her family at all costs, even if it meant aligning herself with forces beyond her control."
"And now," Genevieve murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "the family is but a shadow of its former self."
Walburga nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on Genevieve with a newfound respect. "Indeed," she replied. "But perhaps there is still hope for redemption, for a chance to reclaim what has been lost." Genevieve nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Andromeda and the difficult choices she had been forced to make. The conflict between family duty and personal desire was a familiar one, and she couldn't help but admire Andromeda's courage in following her heart. For it was never an easy feat to defy family beliefs and tradition.
However, hearing that Bellatrix was devoted to Tom drew suspicions to Genevieveâs mind. To give up your freedom and to follow his counterpart entirely at such a young age only made her wonder, if Bellatrix was as loyal as Walburga said she was, and knowing Tom, he would give only his few and most loyal followers the most important tasks. Tasks, that could mean protecting a horcrux. Genevieveâs eyes widened at this idea. However, she would need confirmation from both Walburga and Harry and Hermione before anything.Â
With one final question, Genevieve asked Walburga, âWhom did your nieces marry?â
Walburga said, âWellâŠBellatrix married Rodolphus Lestrange. Andromeda married a MugglebornâŠbelieve his name was Tonks or something along those lines. Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy.â Genevieveâs eyes narrowed at the mention of a Malfoy. She despised the Malfoy lineage, especially Abraxas. She recalled the times that he would torment Tom, only for him to be a slimy git and later on wanting to follow Tom for his power and his connection to Slytherin himself.
Genevieve thanked Walburga, âThank you dear friend, you have helped me a great dear.â
Wlaburga nodded, âNot a problem my dear but I must say, you never mentioned how you are alive.âÂ
Genevieve smiled, âLike I said, itâs a long story. Nonetheless, when time is on our side, Iâll tell you all of it. Think of it as a favor I owe you for your insightfulness.â
Walburga smirked, âOnce a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Very well, good luck Gen. Toujours Pur.â
As the morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Grimmauld, Genevieve bustled around the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast for Harry and Hermione. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air as she moved about with practiced efficiency. Harry and Hermione soon entered the kitchen, their tired expressions brightening at the sight and smell of the delicious spread laid out before them.
"Morning, Genevieve," Harry greeted with a warm smile as he took a seat at the table.
"Good morning, Harry, Hermione," Genevieve chimed, returning the smile as she set down plates of eggs and toast in front of them.
"Wow, this looks amazing," Hermione exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with delight as she took in the array of food.
Genevieve chuckled, pleased with their reactions. "Well, I figured we could use a good breakfast to start the day off right." As they dug into their meal, the conversation flowed easily between them, filled with laughter and camaraderie.
"So, any plans for today?" Genevieve asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
Harry shrugged, "Not much, really. Just going to try and decipher more of that mysterious note from R.A.B. and see if we can get insight to track down the next Horcrux."
Hermione nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Yes, and I was thinking we should revisit some of the books in the library. There might be some clues we've overlooked."
Genevieve nodded thoughtfully, "Harry, I've been meaning to ask you," she began, her voice gentle. "How exactly did you acquire the diary that turned out to be a horcrux?"Â
Harry paused, setting down his fork as he recalled the events of his second year at Hogwarts. "It was Ginny Weasley who had the diary first," he explained. "Lucius Malfoy slipped it into her cauldron when we were shopping for school supplies at Diagon Alley. Ginny became attached to it, but then strange things started happening. I found the diary in the girl's bathroom on the second floor. That's when I started writing in it, and that's when I met Tom Riddle."Â
Genevieve listened intently as Harry recounted his encounter with the memory of Tom Riddle trapped within the diary. She could sense the weight of his words, the lingering trauma of facing Voldemort's past self. "And then," Harry continued, his voice tinged with determination, "I destroyed the horcrux with the basilisk fang from the Chamber of Secrets. It was the only way to stop Riddle from regaining his power." Genevieve's eyes widened at the fact that maybe she was right. If Lucius had a horcrux with him, then Bellatrix would as well, being the protectors of objects of such dark magic, she knew that Tom most likely gave it to them without them knowing what they were hiding.Â
âThat must have been extremely difficult. Destroying dark magic is extremely difficult and dangerous.â Genevieve said softly.Â
âIt was,â Harry replied, âBut at the time, I didnât know what it was. All I knew is that I had to save Ginny.â
Genevieve smiled, âYou are extremely brave for that.â
Harry slightly blushed. âThanks, uhmâŠI guess.â
Genevieve then asked curiously, âSo Lucius Malfoy, is he a follower of Tomâs exclusive gang. Is he a Knight?â
Harry and Hermione were confused and furrowed their eyebrows. Harry said puzzled, âUhm, no heâs a Death Eater. He was there when Voldemort came back to life.â
Genevieve furrowed her eyebrows now, âDeath Eaters?â
Hermione interjected, âYeahâŠthose are what Voldemortâs followers are called. They bear the mark of a snake and skull.â
Genevieve eyes looked like they were going to barge out, âA mark? With a snake and skull? Where the snake comes out of the skullâs head?â
Harry, fumbling with his words said, âYeahâŠwait how do you know that?â
Genevieve sighed, âI drew something once of exactly what you described. I was going to get a tattoo, like the ones Muggles have. I thought they were fascinating and I thought it would be a perfect way to rebel against my fathers. I never expected Tom to make it a mark for his followersâŠbut I know if I was there still, none of this would happen. I think he became lost but I donât think it was just because of me.â
Hermione, curious, asked, âWhat do you mean?â
Genevieve, slightly frustrated at herself, âI donât knowâŠI remember many things but there are still some things I canât seem to recallâŠlike if I am missing memories.â
Harry, concerned, wondered and asked Genevieve, âDo you think you lost some of your own memories?â
Genevieve turned to Harry and took a deep breath, âNoâŠbut I think I might need time to recall them.â Harry and Hermione merely looked at her and wondered how much more suffering she would endure. Genevieve turned to them, and softly smiled, âDonât worry about me. Itâs most likely because I was asleep for so many years. Why donât you guys freshen up and weâll meet in the library later.â Both Harry and Hermione smiled and finished their breakfast before moving to get ready for the day.
Draped in dark robes that the great Bellatrix Lestrange would wear, Genevieve strode through the marble halls of Gringotts Bank with an air of authority. Her features shifted and morphed with each step, her magic disguising her true identity flawlessly.
"I wish to open my vault," she barked at the nearest goblin, her voice a chilling echo of Bellatrix's own.
The goblin hesitated, eyeing her warily. "You must show your wand," he insisted, his voice gruff with suspicion.
Genevieve's lips curled into a cold smile as she met the goblin's gaze. With a flick of her wrist, she cast the Imperius Curse upon him, bending his will to her own. "Lead the way," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. The goblin obeyed, leading Genevieve through the twisting corridors of Gringotts until they reached the imposing door of the Black vault. As they approached, the goblin spoke in hushed tones, moving to bang the bell to distract the Dragon that protected the vault. Genevieve told him to stop what he was about to do.
Genevieve smirked, her confidence unshaken. She stepped forward and hissed in Parseltongue, her words laced with ancient magic.Â
âI mean no harm oh great Mother of Snakes.â
The dragon, startled by her ability to speak its language, rumbled in surprise. âA Ssspeaker, there isss very few of you left.â
âYesss there are few left of usss. I only come to retrieve what is rightfully mine. If you allow me to passs of courssse.â
âGo ahead, my child.â Genevieve is able to head to the vault as soon as the dragon moves aside for her. Entering the vault, Genevieve's sharp eyes quickly scanned the dimly lit chamber. Galleons lay scattered across the floor, each one cursed to multiply upon touch. Ignoring the tempting glint of gold, she focused her attention on her objective.
There, nestled among the glittering treasures, she spotted it: Helga Hufflepuff's cup, gleaming with ancient power. With steady hands, she reached out and plucked it from its resting place, cradling it gently in her grasp. Safely stowing the cup in her satchel, Genevieve turned to leave the vault. But before she departed, she paused to bow respectfully to the dragon, gratitude shining in her eyes.
"Thank you Mother," she murmured, her voice sincere.
With a regal nod of its head, the dragon watched as Genevieve made her way back through the winding tunnels of Gringotts, her mission accomplished. As she emerged into the daylight, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. The next step in their quest was complete, and she was one step closer to bringing Tom Riddle back from the darkness.
Harry and Hermione pored over dusty tomes and ancient scrolls, searching for any clue that might lead them to the remaining Horcruxes. The air was heavy with the scent of old parchment and the weight of their mission hung over them like a shroud. Harry slammed another book shut in frustration, causing Hermione to glance up from her own research with a concerned frown. "Any luck?" she asked, her voice gentle.
Harry shook his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Nothing," he muttered, his frustration evident. "I can't believe we've been at this for hours and we still don't have a clue about where to find Hufflepuff's cup or Ravenclaw's diadem."
Hermione's brow furrowed in thought as she turned back to her book, flipping through the pages with a sense of determination. "We just need to keep looking," she insisted, her voice unwavering. "There has to be something here that can help us."
Harry nodded, though his frustration still simmered beneath the surface. "I just wish we had more to go on," he admitted, his tone heavy with frustration. Just then, Hermione's attention was drawn back to her book, her eyes scanning the words intently. But as she tried to focus, thoughts of Ron's well-being began to creep into her mind, distracting her from her research.
"Have you seen Genevieve?" Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts, causing her to startle slightly.
Hermione shook her head, her expression troubled. "Not since breakfast," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you think something's wrong?"
Harry shrugged, though his worry was evident in his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I just have a feeling that we could use her help right now." As Harry moved off to search for another book, Hermione turned back to her own research, trying to focus her attention. But the weight of their mission, coupled with her concerns for Ron, weighed heavily on her mind. Unable to fight off the exhaustion any longer, she let her head fall onto the pages of her book, succumbing to sleep as the words blurred before her eyes.
Genevieve wandered through Grimmauld, her footsteps echoing softly against the ancient walls as she made her way to the library. She had been on her way to give the exciting news to both Harry and Hermione when she stumbled upon Hermione, fast asleep amidst a pile of books. Gently, Genevieve reached out and shook Hermione's shoulder, rousing her from her slumber. Hermione jolted awake with a gasp, her eyes wide with confusion before they softened with relief upon seeing Genevieve.
"Genevieve!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice filled with joy as she moved to embrace her friend. But before she could, her expression shifted to one of reproach. "Where have you been? Harry and I have been worried sick!"
Harry entered the library just in time to catch Hermione's scolding, his brow furrowed with concern. "Yeah, Genevieve, we've been worried about you, you just disappeared" he added, his tone matching Hermione's. Genevieve smiled softly at their concern, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry for disappearing like that without saying anything," she began, her voice gentle. "But I needed some time to clear my head and think things through."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Genevieve held up a hand to silence her. "I promise I'm okay," she reassured them. "And I think I may have found a lead on where to find Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, their concern giving way to curiosity. "What did you find?" Harry asked, his voice eager. Genevieve beckoned them closer, her expression serious. "But first, we need to make sure we're all calm and focused," she said. "Because what I'm about to tell you is going to require all of our attention." Harry and Hermione nodded.
Genevieve stood before Harry and Hermione, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as she moved to show them Hufflepuff's cup delicately in her hands. The room fell silent as Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped in astonishment, their eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before them.
"H-how... W-whenâŠWhere did you find that?" Hermione stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing.
Genevieve's smile widened as she glanced between her two friends, excitement bubbling within her. "It's a long story, but let me explain," she began, her tone filled with confidence. "Remember how you told me that Lucius Malfoy had Tomâs diary and put it in Ginnyâs cauldron?"
Harry and Hermione nodded, their attention fully focused on Genevieve as she continued. "Well, it got me thinking. If Lucius had it and it was a Horcrux, then surely another member of his inner circle must have been entrusted with a Horcrux as well, without even knowing it."
Harry's eyes widened in realization, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "Bellatrix," he whispered, the pieces falling into place.
Genevieve nodded, her smile turning knowing. "Exactly. Bellatrix was one of the youngest followers of Voldemort and was fiercely devoted to him, just like Regulus. It got me thinking of the possibility that she was given a Horcrux to protect without even realizing what it was, especially if her cousin knew about them and Malfoy beared a Horcrux as well"
Hermione's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned in closer, hanging on Genevieve's every word. "But how did you know where she hid it?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.
Genevieve's smile turned mischievous as she recounted her daring adventure. "I had a little chat with Walburga," she began, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "The Black family always protected their most prized possessions in their vault. So, I disguised myself as Bellatrix and retrieved the Horcrux from the Black vault."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of awe, their admiration for Genevieve evident in their expressions. "That's incredible," Harry breathed, his voice filled with admiration.
Genevieve nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over her. "It was risky, but it was worth it," she said, her voice tinged with determination. "And now, we're one step closer to bringing Tom back and destroying Voldemort."
