Chapter 13
As soon as Blaise had slammed the door furiously behind him, Hermione immediately turned to glare at Riddle, distaste and vexation pouring from her squinted eyes.
"Do you care to explain the meaning of that?" she asked, struggling to keep her tone as calm and collected as she wished it to be. Maintaining a cool temper was not exactly an innate strength of hers, but over the past few years - especially when having to deal with some quite despicably insupportable colleagues at the Ministry - she had made a conscious effort to be more patient and less hot-tempered.
Yet here was Riddle testing - if not torturing - her limits.
"The meaning of what precisely, Miss Granger?"
Hermione took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists.
"Don't feign ignorance, Riddle," she replied with a tense jaw. "I mean your manner of addressing Blaise."
The edge of his lip turned momentarily upwards, but his eyes betrayed him no emotion. They were an empty canvas - or perhaps one that had been erased.
"We are interrogating murder suspects, Miss Granger," he replied, almost humorously.
"They are my friends, Riddle!" she exclaimed, exasperated. "They might be suspects, but they are first people. Ones I have known since I was eleven years old. Stop treating them as inferior beings to yourself. You are not some great and powerful lord that can command over them!"
Something of a chuckle escaped him.
"Of course not, Miss Granger. I merely wished to acquire essential information for our investigation."
"And was there no gentler way of doing so?" she inquired sarcastically.
His gaze intensified. Hermione's eyes felt invaded, violated, annexed by his.
"It is not in my nature to be gentle."
Hermione swallowed and quickly looked down to the ground to compose herself.
"Just -" she began. "Just don't be so harsh with Ron now."
~
It was safe to say that Ronald Weasley appeared to be absolutely petrified as he walked into the room and sat down timidly in the chair Hermione indicated to him. His knees were shaking, and small beads of sweat had formed around his temples.
"Would you like a drink of water, Ro-?"
"- I didn't do it! I don't know anything! Oh, Mione, please tell him. You know me. I'd never do a thing like that. Never, never. Tell him, Mione, tell-"
"Ron," she said smoothly, attempting to soothe his nerves. Riddle looked at the wizard with a mixture of surprise and contempt.
He kept babbling away, having been too caught up in his uncontrollable flow of anxious words to have heard his friend speak.
"Ron!" she repeated, only louder and firmer.
He quickly snapped out of it and looked at Hermione, still as a stone.
"I asked if you should like some water, Ronald," said Hermione, perhaps a little patronisingly.
A red flush grew across his face and he sank a little into his chair.
"Oh, yes, thank you, Mione," he said with a small voice.
With a flick of her wand, a goblet of water appeared by Ron's side which he lifted gratefully and took a small sip from.
Hermione looked over to Riddle who gave her a small, encouraging nod and so Hermione began with the standard, preliminary questions that she had asked the two before him.
Of course, as Hermione knew, he had worked with Justin in group projects for Herbology back at Hogwarts and then there was all that stuff about him believing that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin in second year and then he got petrified and stuff. Oh and then there was all that bollocks with the Triwizard Tournament where the Hufflepuffs thought Harry was snaking - he apologised for the use of the term - Cedric. After that, they had mainly been on good terms, having been part of Dumbledore's Army together but they had lost touch soon after.
After dinner, he had gone to his room to read some of his quidditch magazines and went to bed shortly after so no, he could not have heard anything going on in that corridor.
Justin Finch-Fletchley had not been a smoker as far as he was aware, having never seen him engage in the practice at Hogwarts even when some of his muggle-born friends would smoke. However, Ron quickly added, the War had changed them all, so it was possible he could have acquired the habit in the past few years.
Now, for the part Hermione had been dreading. Rather reluctantly, she began:
"Do you remember what the last spell was that you used before I took in all your wands?" Hermione asked slowly and clearly.
Ron paused and thought for a second. He cleared his voice.
"Uh, ehem, uh, probably a ... a levitation spell or, or, or something to uh fetch my pyjamas from the other end of the room," he said, his voice beginning to quiver again. "I can't say for sure. My memory was never as good as yours, Mione."
Hermione held out his wand.
"Well, I ran some tests on all the wands, Ron, to see if the last spell that had been cast by each person could tell me anything useful."
His legs started bobbing up and down once again.
"And," he gulped. "Did it?"
Hermione paused and tried to make her expression as gentle as possible.
"Ron, I don't mean to alarm you, but-"
"Why was the last spell cast on your wand the killing curse, Mr Weasley?" Riddle interjected, a latent tone of menace embedded within his words.
Ron's face fell blank and his jaw dropped. His eyes began to water, the beads of sweat returned to his forehead and now his whole body was shaking uncontrollably, not just his legs.
"I never cast that spell! It's Unforgivable. Illegal. Never, never, never. No, this is all wrong. Hermione, tell him. You can't seriously think that I-"
He stopped, unwilling to finish that sentence.
"Ron, I-" Hermione began, unsure what she could possibly say in such a situation.
"This is your wand is your wand, is it not, Mr Weasley," interrupted Riddle once again, taking the wand from Hermione's hand, lightly brushing the surface of her palm in the process. He held it out before him, turning it slowly between his fingers and scanning it with his eyes. "14 inches, made of willow wood with, let me see, unicorn hair as the core?"
Ron remained silent, now completely still.
"I will repeat myself, Mr Weasley, is this not your wand?" he asked again, firmer and more demandingly.
"It is."
"And can you confirm where you believe your wand to have been between the hours of 2230 on the fifth of November and 0500 on the sixth of November?"
"I- I- I don't know," he quivered.
Riddle shook his head.
"Ah but you do, Mr Weasley. It was with you the whole time, was it not? It was in your pocket at dinner time, came with you to your room and you woke up with it the next morning. Is that not correct, Mr Weasley?"
Ron looked as though he might burst into tears.
"I didn't do this, Hermione," he whispered. "You know I didn't."
"Answer me, Mr Weasley," Riddle commanded.
Hermione had never seen her friend look like that. He looked as though he had been betrayed. In that moment, she realised that was precisely what she had done. Betrayed him. Any progress the two of them had made had now been entirely eradicated. Their discussion that morning: completely futile.
"Yes," he said with a small, broken voice. "It was with me the whole time."
She felt her heart shatter, the reverberations echoing in the empty air. Losing a friend sounded like that: loud and calamitous at first, followed then by a torturous diminuendo as those remnants, those memories slowly dissipated, leaving you only with the most solitary of silences.
It was clear to her that she could not both solve this crime and keep her same friendships, as she had been trying so desperately to do until that point. Life had given her yet another ultimatum. She thought she had been done with those. When will it stop?
"Thank you, Ron," she said, even though she wished she could say nothing at all and simply wrap her arms around him and somehow hold onto him forever. "That will be all."
He left the room without another word, nor another glance at his childhood friend.
~
"I need a moment, Riddle, if you don't mind."
He nodded at her with what seemed like concern, but how could she know? He was impossible to read.
"Of course, Miss Granger. Take as much time to yourself as you need."
Hermione made her way towards the door.
"I- I- won't be long."
She shut the door behind her and suddenly her legs failed her, and she found her back sliding down the varnished wood of the door, as if the ground was pulling her towards it with a chain. Determined not to make a sound, knowing that Riddle was only a few metres away from her, she held her mouth shut as the tears streamed from her eyes.
Pull yourself together, Hermione, she thought.
Gulping silently, she wiped the tears from her eyes and began taking deep breaths. She knew it was what she had to do. All her life she had been sacrificing her own happiness for the greater good. She would not choose to be selfish now. It pained her, beyond description, to have to accept that price that she knew she would have to pay, but she knew what she had to do. If she was to fulfil her promise to Justin, and to herself, she would have to continue this investigation and get to the bottom of it.
How she wished she had Ginny or Harry with her right now.
But they weren't here; she would have to get through this on her own.
Breathing deeply, Hermione rose to her feet. Before opening the door, she fixed her ponytail and smoothed down her white blouse. Within an instant she was back inside the room and sat beside her partner.
"Bring in Susan," she said.
~
"Hello," said Susan tentatively as she emerged slowly from behind the door.
"Hello, Susan," replied Hermione warmly. "Please take a seat."
Susan did as she was told.
Following her usual routine, Hermione began by asking Susan the exact same questions she had asked those before her.
Ever since the two of them were sorted into the same house at Hogwarts, her and Justin Finch-Fletchley had been very close friends. He was an outgoing, jokey, bubbly sort of boy who had always worked hard at school and been a loyal friend to her. He had been especially there for her when, well, what happened to her family happened. More than anyone else, in fact. He claimed not to be brave, but she thought that was absolute rubbish. His participation in the DA and the Battle of Hogwarts was proof enough of his valour. The two of them remained friends after the war, although were both so busy with work that they could not see each other as frequently as they might have liked.
Susan's eyes watered as she spoke.
After dinner, she had gone to her room, practiced some hairstyles on her hair, got ready for bed and then dozed off. No, she heard nothing at all going on in the corridor.
Oh yes, Justin Finch-Fletchley did smoke. In fact, it was with Justin that she had tried her first ever cigarette, when he had brought a pack with him after one of the holidays.
Did he try to hide the vice? Well, of course he did at Hogwarts. Couldn't have any of the professors finding out or worse still, have some whiney third years following him around everywhere, begging for a puff.
"Susan, I will now move onto some other questions. Namely, can you confirm that it was you who discovered Justin Finch-Fletchley's body?"
Susan nodded slowly.
"As far as I'm aware, I was the person who discovered Justin's body."
"And at what time did this occur?" Hermione pushed further.
Susan paused momentarily.
"Around 5 o'clock in the morning, I believe it was."
Hermione leaned forward in her chair and clasped her hands together.
"And what were you doing awake at that time and in Justin Finch-Fletchley's room?"
If Hermione had been attempting intimidation, Susan felt none of it. She answered the question without hesitation.
"I woke up from a nightmare. Justin knows I get them, ever since, well, the incident with my family. He would look after me back at Hogwarts when they would happen. That's why I went to his room."
Hermione shot a glance at Riddle. He was leaning back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, eyes glued on Susan - analysing her.
"What did you do when you found him?"
"I screamed, naturally. I had just woken up from a nightmare only to find myself truly living one. Then everyone then shot out of their rooms."
"Is that all that you did?" asked Hermione
"Yes, that is all," replied Susan.
"You did not touch him, move any objects in his room, cast any spells?"
Susan shook her head to each one and replied in the negative.
Hermione looked at Riddle and gestured in a way that beckoned him to add a further question if there was anything Hermione had missed.
"Thank you, Miss Bones," said Riddle, choosing instead to bring their interrogation to a close. "That will be all."
Susan nodded to the both of them, wished them a pleasant day and exited the room.