Chapter 12
Tom obviously hadn't taken the news well, as was expected. But, surprisingly, he hadn't thrown the Cruciatus curse around like candy either. Something was different about him, Harrison thought, assessing.
The man was ranting. And so, with practiced skill, he tuned the enraged Voldemort out as he considered him from a detached standpoint.
For one, his movement was far less erratic, seemingly more controlled than previously. He remembered his first meeting with Tom months ago, where the man had been manic, a crazed gleam in his eyes. Those eyes, Harrison shuddered.
His own eyes had been described as soulless by his relatives when he was growing up. Whispers of 'Devil's Child' had riddled his household for ages. But looking at Voldemort, he realized what they had meant. His eyes felt like they held no life behind them, perhaps a minuscule fraction.
They were haunting.
Yet, after months spent working with the man, he found that some life had returned to them. They were no longer as dull, gaining a bright spark to them.
Harrison found he preferred that version of Tom much more. He wondered what had happened for the man to be so- so dead?
"Harrison!" Riddle barked, and just like that, Harrison was back to reality.
"What." He bit out, annoyed. Sure, he'd liked the man enough to go to prison for him without actually knowing him (minus the years he stalked Riddle for days on end), but that didn't mean he appreciated the tone. As if Harrison was some bothersome child that needed to be dealt with.
It killed his whole vibe. They were equals. Except Riddle was more powerful, intelligent and overall more accomplished. Tomato, Tomahto.
"Fucking hell, do you even fucking realize how much shit we're in?" Wow. Harrison hadn't known Tom Riddle could swear this much in a sentence. Harry had always assumed the stick up his arse could only permit him one or two swear words a year, unlike a common, filthy peasant.
He chuckled at his thoughts, seemingly enraging Riddle further.
"Oh, I will ensure you're shipped back to jail once you've outrun your use." The man drawled, a cruel set to his tone.
"Blah, blah, blah," Harrison returned, bored. He felt confident or suicidal enough to challenge Tom today, "stop being a big baby about this and think from a logical standpoint. If Lady Lestrange had wanted to expose us, she would've blabbed to Dumbledore by now, not set up a meeting with Adelaide in an attempt to communicate with us.
And, considering she's a Lestrange, she's likely a dark witch who'd prefer us to succeed more than Dumbledore."
Riddle started at him, shocked. Speechless.
Harrison rolled his eyes, "you can stop with the exaggerated surprise. I've been learning under your wing for months now. Of course, I've learned to think things through logically. It was practically lesson one."
Finally, Riddle deigned to speak, "I had just assumed you weren't listening." he said simply before grabbing a spare piece of parchment and gesturing Harrison over. Bloody madman.
⁂
Adelaide felt like a bloody owl. Riddle and Harrison, the traitor, decided it was only prudent if she corresponded on their behalf, seeing as Lady Lestrange had felt to single her out first.
She was pissed, of course. The seer was a menace. Adelaide was being ordered amuck against her will, and Harrison seemed to do nothing about it, too busy simpering over the absolute maniac that's Tom Riddle.
Sure, she took immense pleasure in his pathetic pining. But today, she felt karma was getting her back for all the times she'd snickered as he'd stared at Riddle and accidentally admitted to stalking Riddle on numerous occasions.
Sue her. It was funny as shit.
The witch sighed heavily, perhaps a tad too dramatic, and raised her hand to knock on the gorgeous mahogany door. Really, doors shouldn't be this opulent.
Before her hand made contact with the door, it burst open, revealing a grinning Lady Hecate Lestrange.
I'm going to stab you in your sleep, she thought bitterly, plastering a fake smile on her face for appearance's sake. Despite what Lestrange might know about her, Adelaide still preferred to believe she still had reason to hide her true self.
Her increasingly murderous thoughts suddenly halted as she saw the room the seer had brought her to. It was eccentric, sure, but there was a messy elegance to it that stole her breath away.
Stained glass windows were the window to her soul and deepest affection causing her to fall in love further with the bewitching room.
Lestrange cleared her throat, hiding a chuckle behind a cough, "I'm glad you like my divination room." amusement coloured her words, and Adelaide's cheeks burned.
Then she noticed the crystal balls, tarot cards and other divination-related items scattered around, and she rolled her eyes. Divination had always been a load of bullshit to her, and, as loathe as she was to admit it, Lady Lestrange was making her question her beliefs on the subject.
Wanting to get this meeting over with so she'd never have to see the seer's unnerving --but gorgeous-- face, she quickly spoke, "I have a letter from my brother about our previous conversation. He regrets that he couldn't meet you in person, as he's dealing with family matters." She hurriedly said.
Lady Lestrange had no interest in letting the meeting end so soon, "Miss Rosier, is it?" she questioned, a twinkle in her eyes. Adelaide wanted to fucking scream.
Lady Magic, for whichever deed you're punishing me for right now, I beg for forgiveness! she pleads internally, forcing her outer exterior to remain calm, cool and collected. Judging by the seer's widening grin, she hadn't succeeded.
"I have no idea what you could possibly mean, my Lady."
"Oh, I think you know what I mean, Lady Peverell," she finished mockingly.
Annoying motherf-- "Nope! No idea. Are you feeling quite alright? Shall I call a healer?" faux concern riddled her voice. Acting had always come naturally to her when the circumstances called for it.
Exactly then, the seer found this the perfect time to flop down on the comfortable-looking sofa behind her, covered in plush pillows, "Aren't you tired of all these games, Lady Peverell?" she said with a childish pout gracing her lips.
Adelaide was confused by the sudden change in attitude, wondering what the woman was playing.
Ignoring the way Hecate was staring at her, Adelaide attempted to escape. This informal conversation was definitely not part of the carefully curated schedule Riddle had created for her to follow.
According to it, she should've left around ten minutes ago. Ugh. "I'm not entirely sure what you're playing at, Lady Lestrange, but I want no part in it. Feel free to directly contact my brother instead of me next time."
Finally, the seer's grin seemed to droop. Adelaide had never felt more accomplished!
"If you insist on playing the game longer, I suppose I will too," She said, a long, suffering sigh to accompany the declaration.
⁂
As soon as she'd stepped foot in the Peverell Manor, Adelaide was shocked to find Riddle in the living room, of all people.
He and Harrison had created a crime board of sorts, with papers stuck to a large, emptied wall and the red thread connecting them all into a web.
Like a muggle crime movie, she thought, laughing at the image, before quietly slinking past. It seemed they'd gotten closer without even realizing it. She silently took back every promise she'd made to karma and resolved to tease Harrison about this later when she'd managed to get some rest after the tiring encounter with Hecate.
Named after Lady Magic herself, Adelaide thought with slight wonder. The witch was-- something. Adelaide resolved to keep tabs on her. Lady Lestrange was clearly a highly important player.
Until then, if she dreamt about the infuriating seer that night, it was no one's business but her own.
⁂
Meanwhile, Tom Riddle's soul hummed, happy to be reunited with pieces that had long since been lost.