He Doesn't Even Go Here

The matronly woman who was fussing endlessly over Ginny continued to send Jack narrow-eyed looks. She had first insisted that Jack leave after he had ushered her in, and Jack had said something to the effect of ‘It’s my fault anyways, I should make sure she’s okay,' which had apparently done him exactly zero favors in the woman's eyes. 

“Well, Miss Weasley. It appears that you’ve undergone some, frankly, concerningly rapid draining of your magical reserves,” a stern look towards Jack, “It’s a miracle you’re not nearly dead on your feet right now. But whatever was done to counteract the effects of the drainage was only a temporary stopper to the symptoms. Luckily there are some short term spells I can cast to diminish them, but there’s a particular potion you’ll need to take in the coming weeks to fully recover.”

“It’s not serious, is it? My magic… it’s not damaged, right?” Ginny asked, her voice quiet and panicked. 

“No, no! Whatever spell was cast on you to curb your exhaustion and fever was cast quickly enough that the drainage could not permanently damage your magical core. But it very well could have been serious!” she said, and turned to Jack with a rather terrifying ferocity that was startling.

“And you! What in Merlin’s name were you thinking! Nevermind a boy of your age even being interested in such magic, experimenting with it unsupervised on a first year! Look at you—you must be in your… fifth, or sixth, and you haven’t learned common sense by now?” she snapped. Jack stood very still and pretended he wasn’t intimidated. 

“It’s a mistake I don’t intend to repeat,” he said dryly. He honestly didn’t, at the very least. He’d rather not be trapped inside of the diary again. And speaking of the diary, where on Earth was it? Ginny certainly didn’t have it, and neither did he. Perhaps it exploded—he hoped it exploded. Damned thing deserved it.

“I would hope so!” the woman said, affronted. She huffed, and soldiered on. “I ought to tell your Head of House! In fact, I will. I have to inform him of the potion required for Miss Weasley. You’re very lucky she seems to like you. If I were her, I would never allow you near me with a wand again!” 

Not that it would make a difference, considering Jack’s hideous wand's untimely disappearance. Jack watched as she cast a few spells over Ginny, had some quiet words with her, before moving to another part of the room. She did something with her wand, and Jack had to force himself not to startle embarrassingly as something that looked very much like Gollum appeared out of thin air, twitchy and alarmed as the woman spoke to it, before it vanished again. 

“Jack,” Ginny said, and he turned. “I can’t believe she’s sicking Snape on you. I don’t envy you.” Jack recognized that name, both vaguely from his pathetic knowledge of the commercial property Harry Potter, and from Ginny’s constant enough ranting about her nasty Potion’s professor.

“Perhaps it’s deserved. I did very nearly kill you, according to what she said.”

“That’s not what she said,” Ginny rolled her eyes, and adjusted in her bed. “I don’t know why you didn’t want me to tell her about the diary. I can’t imagine how dark the magic that trapped you in there must’ve been! I mean, you saw the way she was looking at you, she thinks you’ve attacked me, but it wasn’t your fault! And what if it’s got lingering effects? Have you even seen the thing since you escaped? I haven’t! What if someone else becomes trapped in it? I don’t—I can’t—!”

“It’s alright, Ginny.” Jack said, and when she didn’t look consoled, he stepped forward and placed a hand over hers, and Ginny went very, very red. Jack seriously wondered how handsome this bloke he was possessing was, because he’d had girls with crushes on him when he was 11, and none of them were nearly as affected as Ginny was. He’d yet to catch a look at his reflection, and it moved up higher on his list of priorities. Just below Number 1: Figure out who’s body I’ve snatched and learn anything at all about him, and just above Number 3: Learn a spell that is not Avada Kedavra or Wingardium Leviosa.

“I’ll look into the diary, for the both of us. Promise me you’ll keep it a secret for now. If the diary really is such dark magic, what if they take me away? You hardly want that, do you? I imagine everyone else is dreadful company compared to me.” he said. The concern on Ginny’s face abated a bit, and she offered a small smile. 

“Absolutely horrible, really.” she said.

“Atta girl.” Jack said, and she squeaked, turning her head to hide it in her pillow. Jack rolled his eyes and really began to hope that she’d get over this crush soon enough. Ginny wasn’t half bad a conversationalist, vicious and funny when she wanted to be; surprising considering she was barely out of the womb. It really hadn’t been this bad when he was a book and not, apparently, the most handsome teenage boy in all of the United Kingdom. Maybe she’d forget about it when she remembered how much of an arsehole he was.

The doors to the infirmary (or Hospital Wing, rather. Ginny had called it that.) burst open, and Jack turned to watch as a rather ugly looking man swept into the room, with long, dark hair, and wearing something that may have been a goth’s bedsheets. Ginny shuffled around in her bed, and when Jack looked at her, she was pretending to be asleep. Jack half thought about smacking her on the forehead, but the snappish looking conversation between Snape (?) and the woman working the infirmary ended, and the man was swiftly approaching the bed where Jack and Ginny were. 

Jack looked away from Ginny to give the man a look that hopefully conveyed boyish innocence, but likely just conveyed boredom like his coworkers often told him. He then wondered if he made a very scary expression instead, because the man utterly stopped in his tracks and gave Jack a very haunted sort of expression. He masked it quickly, but not so quickly that it escaped Jack’s notice entirely, and he couldn’t quite bring back the color that had drained from his face. Jack did wonder if there was much color there to begin with, though. 

“I’ve been told that one of my Slytherins has attempted to drain Miss. Weasely of her magic in some sort of moronic experiment,” the man said, very slowly. Though he hardly looked as ghoulish as he had looked a moment ago, something in the expression on his face was very eerie, and Jack nearly felt compelled to glance away. “And yet I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you before.”

There were a few ways Jack could take this information. Ginny certainly hadn’t recognized him when she had seen his face, and neither had the healer woman. If whoever Jack was masquerading as was supposed to be in this man’s House, and he didn’t recognize him, that meant—well, Jack actually had no fucking clue what that meant. This boy was unremarkable enough that the man didn’t recognize one of his own students? He didn’t exist until Jack had been transported into this world? The man also could’ve just been lying for fun. There was also the matter that Jack’s supposed-to-be-handsome face made the man look like he’d seen a ghost, so there had to be some kind of recognition there.

Worst case scenario, Jack ends up saying something very, extremely incorrect about who he’s supposed to be, someone catches on, and he just says he’s got amnesia and is sent off to a neurologist.

“I’m something of a special case.” Jack said. 

“A special case,” Snape droned, and looked at Jack in a way that suggested he was thinking about throwing a brick at him. “How so.” 

“I’m a transfer student,” he said. Snape obviously did not believe him, if the way his lip curled up in a sneer to reveal somewhat yellowed teeth was any indication.

“Two months into the school year?” 

“I’m a late transfer. Obviously.” Jack says.

“Obviously.” Snape repeated, in a new way, that suggested he was thinking about kicking Jack out of the window to see what would happen. “What exactly is your name?” 

“Jack—” he started, and very nearly said Jack Marnham, before remembering that he’d told Ginny that T.M. Riddle was his father. “Riddle.” he added, and felt very smart indeed for remembering.

 He was surprised to see that Snape went as rigid as a board and as white as bone, and the man ground his teeth together so roughly that Jack was pretty sure he could actually hear the bone wearing down. He obviously recognized the name, and Jack was incredibly agitated that he didn’t know what or who he was recognizing it from. Jack could lie well enough, it wasn’t hard, but it would be incredibly embarrassing if he started telling people nonsense when they knew the truth and were very rudely keeping it from him. 

“Perhaps you ought to see the headmaster then… Riddle.” he said sharply. He then turned and began moving very quickly towards the door. Jack had assumed that was a suggestion and turned back to still-pretending-to-sleep Ginny, something about the man being a bigger dick than Jack about to leave his mouth.

“Riddle!” Snape yelled, very urgently and very angrily. Jack sighed, and then felt embarrassed about it, because it was childish and tacky to sigh in exasperation. He followed after Snape, and actually managed to catch his own reflection in a mirrored changing screen that was tucked into the forward corner of the room.  His eyes widened in surprise—he didn’t look much like his old self at all. Perhaps he really was the most handsome teenage boy in all of the United Kingdom. Fucking hell. 

“Would you like a sherbet lemon?” Dumbledore asked, and pushed a tiny bowl towards Jack. He wore a genial smile, and a bit of a weird fucking look was in his eyes like he was on magical acid, and there was a twist to his face that suggested he wasn’t nearly as happy to see Jack as he was attempting to appear.

Jack eyed the candies for a moment, and then decided that he didn’t want the first thing he ate in months to be something that looked like it could’ve sat at the bottom of an old woman’s purse for thirty years.

“Not at all, really.” Jack said, and was unable to prevent the slightly disgusted curl of his lips. Dumbledore watched him over his glasses for a second, before taking one and popping it in his own mouth, and tucking away the bowl. 

“Very well. Severus has told me that you informed him of your status as a late transfer student. I do find this very interesting, considering I don’t believe a Jack Riddle ever had a transfer admitted to Hogwarts.” Dumbledore said. Dumbledore was one of the characters Jack had a vague idea of, and he’d figured he would be some sort of grandpa wizard. He kind of was, but Jack hadn’t imagined he’d so strongly project the aura of a teacher who doesn’t like you very much, but tries hard to keep that to themselves. 

“Well, I am a transfer student, considering I’ve got this uniform, yet haven’t attended Hog—Hogwarts until this year. I hear fifth year is very important.” Jack said. 

“Very important indeed. Your O.W.L’s should be this year.” Dumbledore said, with a very stony expression. 

“Exactly. My O.W.L.s. Everyone knows about the O.W.L.s, and it’s very important that I attain proper schooling for them. Anyways, my transfer should be very official. If you’d like to speak to Ginny Weasley, she knows all about it already,” Jack lifted a hand and looked at his nail beds. “Not that you have to, it would be very unprofessional of the school to not have it on record already, which you must.” 

Jack was aware that Dumbledore could definitely tell this was absolute bullshit, but he’d been in enough situations at work where he’d forgotten to add something important to a spreadsheet, or send an email, and rather than take the blame everyone already knew was on him, he hissed and spit at everyone else about their own incompetence until they either believed him or were so exhausted with his behavior that agreeing with him and moving along was the easiest decision. Jack hoped Dumbledore knew he could do this all day.

“One would think,” Dumbledore said, and folded his hands together. “And yet I have not heard of you, despite your insistence.”

Jack stared at him for a second, and decided to do something that was very risky. Jack didn’t really know anything about T.M. Riddle, other than the fact that he was apparently just as handsome as Jack and that Ginny had found him in the yearbook. Ginny, who had thought that Jack was just someone writing to her from another book and not trapped inside of the book, had found Riddle in a yearbook, one that supposedly had a date on it, one that had not raised any suspicion in her about Jack’s claims of the man being his father. T.M. Riddle could be dead, but he could also very well be alive, and therefore very confused if he suddenly heard that a boy named Jack was going around with his name.  But… Snape’s reaction to the name Riddle was obviously some form of alarm. If Riddle was somebody to be feared, then—

“The truth is I have nowhere else to go,” Jack said, and something about that made Dumbldore’s expression turn very severe. “I am not merely transferring for the sake of my O.W.L.s. In truth my mother has just died and I have been left with nothing.” Jack says. 

‘Sorry, mum. I’ve killed you.’ Jack thought about his real mother, a very stern woman who made very bland spaghetti. 

“And it’s not as if I can turn to my father .” he said, and stared very hard at Dumbledore. 

That worked, based on the shaken look on Dumbledore’s face. Jack felt very victorious and allowed himself to smile at the old man. 

“If you truly have no record of my transfer, perhaps it would be best to rectify that.” Jack said. Dumbledore stared at him as if he were very sad about something for a moment, before he effectively wiped the expression off of his face, and smiled softly at Jack. Jack felt his own smile falter. 

“Perhaps it would be. It would be remiss of me to turn someone in your situation away. Hogwarts will open its arms to you, Jack Riddle. I can only hope this school, and I, will do right by you.” Dumbledore said, quietly, and very gravely. 

The tone of that was decidedly fucking weird, but Jack didn’t really care what this man was privately thinking about the situation, because the conversation had basically gone in his favor.

“Brilliant,” Jack said, and felt a satisfied smile cross his face. He folded his hands across his lap. “Fucking brilliant.”