The Start of Something New
The quiet humming of a customer, audible only to the next aisle over, weaved its tune into the tranquil air of the Second-Hand Bookshop in Diagon Alley, bringing with it a sense of peace and domesticity. Tom had never been a huge lover of music but strangely enough, he couldn’t despise the melody flitting through his ears as he skimmed through the potions book in his hands, going as far as to even lean his back against the bookshelf that separated the humming and himself so as to be able to catch every note that left in the light timbre of the stranger.
A frown decorated his lips when, minutes later, the humming grew softer in volume as footsteps behind him told him that the stranger was making their way out of the aisle. A shame then, he thought; it was rare that he found solace in anything musical.
Fate was a funny thing, however, when the muted tapping of shoes against the wooden floorboard didn’t leave his ears and instead turned to pass by his aisle, only for it to halt, the stranger’s tune cutting off abruptly in surprise. In the same feminine timbre, the voice greeted him brightly but hushed, careful not to disturb the calming buzz of the store. “Oh! Morning, Riddle.”
Tom blinked, struck dumbfounded in his place for a split second when his eyes fell onto the individual he had been sharing a comfortable space with, who so happened to be the tormentor of his mind for the past two months. Instinct won over him and he straightened up, plastering on a quick smile that exuded enough friendliness for most people as his brain rapidly reminded him of his plan to win over the individual now standing at the end of his aisle.
“Grace. It’s lovely to see you here, how has your summer been?”
“Wonderful! A much-needed break after O.W.L.s, I have to say. How have you been?”
Tom responded similarly. He made no mention of the sleepless nights he had been subjected to out of fear that his plans had derailed so much so that he would be imprisoned in Azkaban with a single slip of word from Thea to the authorities. Neither did he mention his perplexity and, he had to admit, gratitude for the gift that she had bestowed upon him. Despite his curiosity on certain titles that she had recommended, he had decided that it was yet the time to bring it up. “Are you here to browse for next year’s textbooks?”
“Yep! Was looking at charms previously, moving on to defence now…” At the slightest hint of indication that Thea was about to leave, Tom intended to intervene but was beaten to it when Thea looked at the open book in his hands, then at the category listing of the aisle that was plastered at the edge of the row of bookshelves. “Actually- are those the potions textbook we needed?”
Tom’s eyes flickered forward to the multiple book spines that spelt out the same title. “‘Advanced Potion-Making for N.E.W.T.s’, yes it is.” A pause. Then, “care to join me?”
The innocent brightness to the smile that Thea proceeded to flash him could almost – almost – convince him that everything that had happened to him with regards to her had been but a figment of his mind; that she hadn’t – spiritually – bore witness to his crimes and that everything she had done had been out of the goodness of her heart. But he knew better. She had ulterior motives to her actions and he would unravel her secrets one by one, or so he swore.
“Well, if you don’t mind me.”
“Not at all, Grace.”
Tom stepped aside to make space for the girl to overlook the various choices of the needed textbook. They settled into a momentary silence, before Thea subconsciously picked back up on humming a slow unfamiliar tune as she switched books.
To say Tom felt conflicted was an understatement. Here, in the cozy warmth of the bookstore and the soothing voice of one Theana Grace, he felt the rare comfort that he had always sought for throughout his life that he was never given. His psyche took the initiative to loosen up and heal, finding himself feeling relaxed and at ease in the close presence of Thea. Yet, his brain screamed at him to put his guard up, to reinforce it and let none of the wishy-washy emotions run around. This was Thea he was talking about – the girl who singlehandedly introduced an unpredictable variable to his life and always unfailingly rendering him confounded. The girl who currently held his life in her hands and yet, had made no move to damn it, choosing instead to tie blue ribbons around carefully folded paper cranes and gift them to him for reasons that escaped his understanding. He was unsure why his consciousness even welcomed her being so willingly. Perhaps she had bewitched him with her voice somehow? Salazar, he sounded insane.
Needless to say, this hadn’t been how he had imagined their next encounter to go. Initial plans were to track her down in the train ride to Hogwarts come September so that he could propose a partnership for potions class with her. Speaking of…
Once Tom had found a suitable copy for himself, he turned to regard Thea once again, regretfully putting a pause in her tunes. “Say, Grace,” he received a curious hum from the aforementioned girl as she looked at him, a questioning tilt to her head, “have you heard of Slughorn’s plans for the partnership system for sixth year?”
Eyebrows furrowing, Thea gave it a thought. “Can’t say I have. What’s going on?”
“He plans to have potions partnerships be permanent for the year, no more switching partners for every assignment unless he deems it necessary. Said that N.E.W.T.s potions would be a rather big jump from O.W.L.s and hoped that having a constant variable in potion-making would be of assistance to the students.”
“Oh.” A frown made its way to Thea’s lips as she wracked her brain for a classmate that would be willing to stick to her in potions for an entire year. She had thus far depended her partners on whoever had been left alone in situations where Slughorn hadn’t assigned her one. “If it helps then I suppose it’s not a bad thing…”
He knew of her lack of friends and had an inkling as to what had caused distress to her. Not a problem though, for he would rectify her dilemma.
“I was thinking, actually, if you’d like to be partners?”
Surprise flitted through her features before insecurity washed over her. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to hinder your potential.”
At this, Tom cocked an eyebrow, an amused smile lifting the corners of his lips up. “Says the girl whose potions Slughorn won’t stop praising in and out of class. Really, you ought to just accept his invitation to the Slug Club at this point. I’ve seen you in potions too – you’re certainly beyond capable to handle N.E.W.T.s.”
Another “oh” left her lips, different this time. Pink had dusted her cheek and she was now sporting a shy smile. Her hands tightened their grip on the book she held to ground her flustered state into reality, mind dizzy at the genuine praise because- Tom Riddle does not freely hand out compliments, thank you very much.
“What do you say?”
Snapping out of her spiral into something – who knows what – Thea accepted his proposition, grinning. “I’d like that, Riddle. Thank you for your invitation.”
A lopsided smile played at his lips, pleased with the outcome of the situation. He shifted to hold his book on one arm, reaching out his right for a handshake as if to solidify their new endeavour.
“I look forward to our partnership, Grace.”
“As do I, Riddle, as do I.”
Tom left not long after and the pair went off on their separate ways, not to come across each other again until they met briefly upon alighting the Hogwarts Express on the first of September.
The welcoming feast was as spectacular as ever. Dozens of fresh faces got sorted into their respective houses with amicable cheers and applauses celebrating the start of the new chapter in their lives. Following the yearly administrative opening, Dippet allocated a section to update everyone on the wellbeing of the victims of the rather recent petrification attack.
“We were fortunate that Madam Rosetta Flint and Professor Herbert Beery,” Dippet gestured towards the Hospital Wing’s matron and the Herbology professor on the staff tables, “had enough Mandrake Restorative Draughts in the making, in time to heal the students over during the summer break.”
Tom glanced at Thea, looking out for any reactions that she might let slip at the reminder of last year’s events. Sure enough, as if a lightbulb had clicked on above her head, her face lit up in realisation and she snapped her fingers together. To his utter surprise, a piece of familiar-looking, palm-sized paper appeared out of thin air and she snatched it mid-air before gravity had the time to act on it. Her other hand remained empty on the table so that ruled out the idea that she had used a wand to conjure the note. The practiced ease she had displayed in performing a spell non-verbally and wandless had played into Tom’s knowledge that Thea was magically advanced but just how powerful she was remained a mystery to him.
He watched as she did it again, waving her hand this time to produce a pen without so much as a blink. She wrote something down on the paper before stashing the pen away and then taking the paper in both hands. A tribute to her name, indeed, her hands moved gracefully and swiftly as they folded the paper again and again, eventually taking shape to be – as he had figured out – a crane. It told him just how familiar she was with this specific craft, the way her eyes had wandered to Dippet still talking behind the podium while her fingers continued their ministrations absent-mindedly.
Dread – and anticipation – took him hostage. For all the gentle way Thea had cared for the paper, it could be a threat to his life. A single word to the right person was all it took to figuratively end his life. He had no idea what the note said and Thea’s great aptitude for magic meant that he had no way of glimpsing into her mind without her noticing.
It was only towards the end of dinner, when hands were busy with cutleries and people’s attention were taken up by friends and food, did Tom learn of the recipient of the paper crane – himself. That much, he hadn’t been surprised, contrary to the others around him.
“Another gift then?” Lazarus Avery queried when a paper crane materialised in front of Tom suddenly. They had been told of the contents of the paper bag over letters during the summer.
Like a pack of meerkats, his circle of friends turned to look at the Hufflepuff table at once and Tom sighed at their idiocy to look – so obvious- Merlin, have some dignity!
A sheepish grin on his face, Edward Rosier nudged his chin towards the origami now in Tom’s hand. “What’s it say?”
Schooling his expression, keeping his trepidation at bay, Tom carefully unravelled the paper crane into the same squared paper as the others that he had kept in his notebook.
The Art of Bargaining with a Goblin: Etiquette. P.s. rare potion ingredients (i.e. from ancient magical creatures) can be expensive if you play your cards right and not get scammed by a goblin (pesky little bugger, they are).
A feat Thea had achieved, to render six men speechless with a single note. Dylan Mulciber was the first to break the still air, snapping the others out of their stupor. “How did we not think of that?”
“Exactly!”
“I know!”
They all shared the same incredulous expression, baffled by their ignorance of a goldmine.
“Trust Grace to constantly one-up on us with every tidbit she shares,” they grimace at Gallagher Nott’s words. It had been a never-ending circle of Thea surprising them with new things ever since her patronus had shown up in the women’s bathroom with Tom.
Five pairs of eyes pointed to Tom to gauge his reaction and he could only shrug, relieved. “At least it wasn’t a threat.”
Eugene Lestrange scoffed out a laughter, “a threat? If anything, it’s looking like she’s trying to help you. I mean- she’s essentially funded you with that note!”
Nodding, Rosier adds in, “if it wasn’t for the fact that all this has happened suddenly and that Grace is shrouded in mystery, I’d even say that she’s interested in joining us. It’s not every day that you find someone willing to keep silent like she’s been doing.”
Tom frowned. “There’s no telling what her motives are. She’s still too unpredictable to be considered an ally rather than a foe.”
“But to recommend a book on Lordship responsibilities though,” Lestrange whistled lowly, “says enough of where she stands with wizarding culture. As far as we know, non-purebloods don’t typically care about our customs.”
Scattered mumbles of agreement echoed back. Nott and Rosier, both of whom had an extensive library in their respective residence, had a chance to look through their archives of purebloods over the summer. There were no mentions of any ‘Grace’ families and Tom had seen her face enough times during past Christmas breaks to doubt the ‘purity’ of her magical blood; it wasn’t the norm for purebloods to spend Yule separated from their family after all.
When Tom spared a quick glance at Thea later as dinner wrapped up, the nonchalance she emanated was a sharp contrast to the chaos of emotions and thoughts wreaking havoc inside him. Never had a single person brought so much disruption in his life and he could not decide, as of yet, if she would draw his final breath or if she was Magic personified.