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Tom can take care of himself, she reassured herself. He will be fine. Maybe he will even be willing to talk to me when he returns. In the meantime, I wish there was something I could do to help Lord Severus and Lady Merope.
She sat down at her desk and tried to think. She had promised to Severus that she would not tell anyone about those memories of attraction to Merope that she had seen during the Occlumency lessons last summer. There would be consequences for breaking a magical promise... but perhaps this was an occasion when she should do it anyway.
The following day, Severus locked himself in his manor house to—well, to brood, but also to try to work out some things about Peter Pettigrew that were troubling him. So much was happening at once, and it was complicating his analysis, which was normally very much on target for any situation. This was harder to puzzle out. What was coincidental and what wasn’t? What were the facts?
Well, it was a fact that Rodolphus Lestrange had bullied the father of one of Tom’s friends into tricking his son to tell Tom about Sir Thomas Riddle. This was very likely Wilkes, since his visit had occurred right before Tom had stormed away to confront his father. And based on what Regulus Black said, the boy’s father is dead as well, killed by the people he was serving, Severus thought. That plot was obviously a way to release Merope from her magically-sworn wedding vows. They had thwarted it, had they not? Or was Pettigrew’s arrival part of a scheme to tear apart the couple?
Although Severus was generally inclined to be wary, he just could not reach that conclusion based on the available evidence. Pettigrew had turned up the day that Tom had gone to confront his father, which was suspicious, but he had told Merope about Godric’s Hollow and Lily the day after. He could not have sent an owl to anyone in that space of time asking what to do in response to their quick betrothal, because he was locked in the guest wing of the castle, and Merope’s strong wards on the castle prevented anyone from sending owls except people she had approved. For Pettigrew’s arrival to have been part of a grand Malfoy-Lestrange scheme to keep Merope single, they would have had to have known about the possibility of a match between Severus and Merope well in advance and sent him there with instructions to drive them apart. It didn’t seem plausible at all. But, most importantly, Pettigrew himself would have had to have been serving Malfoy and Lestrange as a loyal agent.
It wasn’t impossible, Severus thought, but he could not come up with a logical reason for why Pettigrew would do such a thing. He hated the dead Gaunts—fine. But why go to the Malfoys? He had never said anything in Severus’s presence suggesting agreement with the Malfoy family’s extreme blood-purist and pro-Norman views. Furthermore, at Hogwarts, he had been friends with the likes of James Potter and Sirius Black, who were unhappy subjects of a Malfoy. What would Pettigrew’s motive have been to turn against them? Severus could not come up with one, and in the absence of that, he had to shelve that idea.
Could he be operating as a lone wolf, gathering information for any "patron" who seemed interested, but not truly be on anyone’s side except his own? That seemed more plausible to Severus. Despite Pettigrew’s denial, Severus was still half convinced that Pettigrew had told Malfoy and Lestrange about his poisoning of Morfin Gaunt. For some people, coin would be motive enough to spill interesting information.
Let’s see, Severus thought. How would the sequence go? Pettigrew left the Gaunt family’s service five years ago, after they murdered his mother. That is a fact. However, he still could have had access to the castle, because Morfin Gaunt was a fool who was incapable of warding it effectively, and since I’m not a member of the family, I couldn’t do it unless he let me. In theory, Pettigrew could have returned as a rat and seen me making the poison three years ago. He didn’t care about Gaunt, certainly—but because he had palled about with Potter and Black, he had sucked on the venom they spread about me and had no loyalty to me either. But if he told Malfoy, it was not immediate. He would have held the information until pretty recently. Yes—this fits. It does not require him to be truly loyal to Malfoy, just opportunistic. This could be true. And self-centered opportunism explains perfectly well why he would tell Merope about what happened in Godric’s Hollow.
The suspicious timing of Pettigrew’s arrival was tougher. Severus really did not want to resort to coincidence as the explanation, but the alternative before him was indeed that Pettigrew had been ordered to come as an agent for someone. Could it be someone else? Severus thought. Someone other than Armand Malfoy? If he is an opportunist, it could be. What about the Longbottoms and others associated with Dumbledore? The Longbottoms’ oath to Dumbledore provoked Malfoy to declare that the High Master of Hogwarts may not accept the oath of fealty from anyone other than the other masters. They have some other endgame... but would that group gain anything by dividing Merope from me? Or dividing the Potters, for that matter? They are also part of that general alliance. Is Lily a problem somehow?
Severus dismissed this thinking; there simply was not enough evidence to initiate a serious theory. Could it be coincidence after all? Could it really be as simple as that—that Pettigrew heard of Merope’s decent and honorable rule, decided to give his old home another chance, and is simply trying to rise in her esteem by whatever means necessary? That seemed plausible too.
Severus rose from his seat, his forehead furrowing in thought. Whatever the truth might be, Pettigrew really should not be allowed unfettered access to the castle yet. It irritated him to no end that the rat was ingratiating himself to Merope based on his "honesty" after three years of avoiding his duties. An opportunistic information-gatherer would have all kinds of stories to tell about anyone he had observed, and as a rat, Pettigrew would have been in the position to observe virtually anyone who had not warded their dwelling against him. With a treasure trove of facts about various people, some of which would be blackmail material, he could pass himself off as "loyal" to anyone he wanted while playing people against each other and serving himself alone. That made sense to Severus—and although it was not as dangerous as having an outright agent for the enemy living in the castle, it still was not a situation that should continue unchecked.
Merope’s weakness is her lack of sworn magical vassals, Severus thought. Other than Pettigrew, I’m it. She has allies now—though apparently one of them was a traitor and is dead now—but they are not here, on the grounds. It’s so bad that we had to give carefully bespelled objects to the Muggle village leaders for defensive purposes. She won’t like it if I advise her to turn him off the grounds, but there must be something that can be done.
He sat back down to think more.
Tom Apparated outside the main gates of the castle. The potion that he had gathered rested safely inside the stoppered flask. He would analyze it and then determine his course of action based on the results. Whatever was at the bottom of that basin would be his.
"You are back early," Merope said coolly to him once he presented himself to her.
He gazed at her with an expressionless visage and offered a curt nod. "I reached the end of what I could do with the resources I had."
"And what does that mean?" she asked. "Did you attempt to get into Hogwarts to find the Chamber of Slytherin?"
Tom was momentarily startled. He eyed his mother. "Hermione told you about that, did she?"
Merope was not inclined to betray Hermione’s confidence, especially since she had thought of it independently herself. "Hermione didn’t have to," she said sharply. "I know that you are interested in family legends. Was that what you were doing?"
For a moment, Tom was tempted to lie and tell her yes. It was a decent cover story. However, he realized at once that she would scold him about it. "No, it wasn’t," he said. "I didn’t go north. I was interested in our ancestors who lived in the southwest of England and in Wales."
Merope studied him for a moment before deciding that he was telling her the truth. "Very well, then. I hope you also thought about what I told you."
And she scolds me anyway, Tom thought with a surge of frustration. Suddenly he just wanted her to let him go about his business, without further questioning or comment. "I didn’t spare it one second, actually," he shot back defiantly.
Merope’s eyes popped wide, and her nostrils flared. "That’s it. I am sick of your lip these days, Tom. Go to your room," she snapped.
Smirking to himself once he was out of her line of sight, Tom headed upstairs. That was exactly what he had wanted her to say, but he would stop in the castle’s potions laboratory first.
The castle had a Pensieve in the library, a beautiful bowl of copper that had turned green with age. The sides were chased with Celtic knotwork and sculptings of creatures both fantastic and mundane. There were curiously few snakes, Hermione observed, before remembering that Parseltongue had entered the Gaunt line only in the past hundred and fifty years. This bowl was much older than that. Hermione stood beside it, waiting for Merope’s arrival. She had asked the older witch to meet her in the library, before this object, because of something that she wanted to show Merope. That was all that she would say.
The doors to the library creaked open, and Merope entered quietly. She closed the doors behind her and walked over to the spot where Hermione stood over the Pensieve. Frustration was written in every line of her face, Hermione noticed with some dismay, but as she approached, she attempted to put on a smile.
"This Pensieve is beautiful," Hermione remarked in a low voice, attempting to be diplomatic and pleasant. She was suddenly very concerned that Merope, with the annoyance that she already felt, would regard this as a grossly inappropriate imposition.
The smile blossomed on Merope’s face. "Thank you," she said. "It is, isn’t it?" She paused, feeling vaguely nostalgic. "When I first decided to claim my title and return to this castle, I had forgotten about the beauty and scholarship inside its walls. Well—not forgotten, exactly, but other, less pleasant memories had taken over."
"I didn’t mean—" Hermione began to say.
"No, don’t worry," Merope reassured her. "I’m merely musing aloud." She raised her eyebrows at Hermione. "Did you happen to overhear what I said about my family when I... argued with Tom the night before last?"
Hermione shook her head. "You don’t have to repeat it to me if it’s that unpleasant." She gazed over the copper bowl anxiously.
Merope understood. "Of course, you wanted to show me something! I won’t dwell on it now, but you have obviously heard over the past three years that some members of my family were wicked people. They did not appreciate these books"—she gestured around the library—"or these ancient magical artifacts. But the complete history of the Gaunts is more subtle. There were the wicked and the mad... and then there were the brilliant and visionary. The family history is complicated... and even some of those brilliant and visionary ones did things we consider wrong now." A thoughtful frown appeared on her face. "Most people are complicated, I suppose."
"Yes," Hermione said eagerly, taking out her wand and pointing it at her temple. "They are... and that is exactly why I was going to let you see this one memory in particular." She hesitated. "It happened to me when I was learning Occlumency from Lord Severus last summer. I realize that what I’m showing you may seem meddlesome, and I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t...." She trailed off, breaking her gaze with Merope. "After what happened between Tom and me, I just can’t...."
Merope thought she understood. She waited as Hermione withdrew the silver thread of memory and placed it in the basin. Hermione stepped back and looked down, her face visibly flushed. Feeling compassion for the young witch, though not expecting to see anything as significant as Hermione obviously believed it to be, Merope stepped forward and leaned over the basin.
The memory swirled into an image of the room in the castle in which Hermione’s Occlumency lessons had taken place. From Hermione’s perspective, Merope watched as Severus scowled at Hermione, not in anger, but in concentration. Hermione was reliving that ugly event from her first week at Hogwarts, the one in which the Lestrange girl attacked her, and she was trying her best to prevent Severus from seeing it. At a point in the memory, the fuzzy images of Lestrange and Hogwarts dissolved away, leaving Severus in clear profile, gazing into Hermione’s light brown eyes with his dark ones. Then—Merope almost jerked out of the Pensieve at this shift—it was as though Hermione was the one performing Legilimency. Her field of vision seemed to shoot through Severus’s pupils, leaving her memory-self—and Merope beside her in the Pensieve—observing Severus’s thoughts.
Hermione’s memory-self gazed upon an image of Severus sitting at his desk. He was thinking hard about something—and Merope gasped as Hermione delved deeper into Severus’s thoughts in this moment. He was focused on... on her, Merope realized. He wanted to please her, to make her happy, to make her trust him... to make her care for him.
To make her love him.
The greatest day of his life was the day she had restored the title that had been so cruelly stripped away by her family. That was the day that he knew he might have a real chance with her. Then, later, Hermione’s memory-self—and, now, Merope—experienced the unhappiness he felt when Merope refused to consider annulling her marriage vows to Sir Thomas due to the unknown personal repercussions of breaking a vow and the fact that it would harm Tom. Severus had understood, though.
All this time, Merope realized, he had understood, and had been patient with the political considerations that kept interfering with the relationship that he wanted to initiate with her.
Merope drew away from the Pensieve, her eyes wide with surprise. She breathed deeply, gazing into the swirling silver, trying to reorder her thoughts. This... changed things. Finally she looked in Hermione’s direction, noticing with regret that Hermione was cringing and wincing.
"Thank you for showing me this," Merope said, trying to comfort Hermione. "I did not know... Severus is very good at concealing his emotions...."
"Whatever he may have felt for Harry Potter’s mother sixteen years ago, I don’t think he cares about her now," Hermione whispered, unable to meet Merope’s eyes. "There was nothing about her in that."
"No," Merope agreed, overwhelmed. "There wasn’t."
"He should have told you the truth about Godric’s Hollow," she said quietly, "but please, I hope you can forgive him. I can’t stand seeing...." She broke off again, tears in her eyes.
Merope moved to Hermione and enveloped her in her arms. Although Hermione was almost sixteen years old, Merope still wanted to comfort her as a daughter. "I’m very sorry about what you are going through with Tom," she said. "I wish I could help you as you just helped me."
Hermione twitched in Merope’s arms.
"I want you to tell me something," Merope said, "and I don’t want you to think about this in terms of what you perceive as your duty. I certainly don’t want you to concern yourself with what you believe Tom would want you to do, and I don’t want you to fear offending me, either. I want you to answer this only for yourself and what you would like. Tom has informed me that he told you about a bargain I made with him the day the two of you met."
"Next summer... do you want to go through with the wedding? Or would you rather break it off at that point, after you have finished your education?" Merope thought quickly. "You may change your mind, of course. I just want to know what you think right now." There was another reason, but she would wait until Hermione answered—and what she answered—before talking about it.
Hermione considered. She was not sure of her future if she did end the engagement. Would her parents scramble something for her quickly, a marriage to a stranger? They might, and what could she do about it? She certainly would not have any protection as a witch under Malfoy’s laws, and who knew what additional laws he might enact over the next year? If she defied her parents and chose to live as an independent, single witch, she likely would not be allowed to carry a wand at all. Even now, if she did marry Tom, she would not be allowed to have one in public after she had left Hogwarts. That was one of Malfoy’s new rules. Without that marriage, her future would be bleak indeed... but it was not just that practical consideration that troubled her.
If she ended her engagement to Tom, there would be virtually no chance that they would reconcile in the future. She was unhappy, certainly—but it was not because she was with Tom. It was because she wasn’t "with" him to the extent that she would prefer, the extent that they had once been close. She wanted that back, and it was at least possible that she could have it in a future that included him. She had not wanted to let him touch her until he had apologized for his bad conduct... but it was different for a married couple. A married couple, especially a noble couple, could be intimate strictly in order to have a child, whereas Hermione had done so out of desire and closeness to him—and had even taken the potion to prevent conception. She could allow it again once she was officially married, to start a new family... and who knew? Perhaps once Tom was out of Hogwarts, and had to devote his time to more serious matters than fantasizing about crowns and looking for ancient chambers, he would appreciate her again. And if he did not... then at least she would have children someday, and she would be in the same household as Merope, who was now more of a mother to her than her own mother.
She looked up at Merope. "I want to do it," she said firmly. "I want to have the wedding."
Merope studied her for a moment before nodding. A grim smile formed on her face as she released Hermione. "I’ll be honest with you now that you have said that, Hermione. That was what I hoped you would say. And, since you have, here is my promise to you. As long as you feel this way, and if nothing else changes, I won’t cut you off. It would be terribly unfair to you and I won’t do it. This takes precedence over what I told Tom three years ago, because as I explained to him the night before last, there is no good reason to terminate the contract. If this remains your wish, then I will make sure it happens. This, I swear to you."
She cupped Hermione’s cheek and smiled sadly at her before departing. Hermione stood silently, watching her leave, pleased that she would reconcile with Severus—and grimly relieved about her own future.
Severus was surprised when Merope showed up at the door to his manor house, but he could hardly deny his liege admittance. He showed her to the sitting room and flicked his wand to summon some of his wine bottles. She did not look angry, he observed as he cast the charm to uncork a bottle and pour the wine into goblets for them. That was promising.
Merope accepted her goblet and sipped the wine, her features showing approval as she tasted it. "Severus," she began, setting it down on a table. "I came here to... well, to apologize for my reaction to the information that Pettigrew gave."
Severus faced her. "You don’t owe me an apology," he said stoically. "You were right that I should have told you the truth about my part in Godric’s Hollow. I don’t know when would have been a good time to tell you about the Potters, because it didn’t seem that it would serve any purpose... the lad is considered James’s son, after all, and for all anyone knows, he really is. But I shouldn’t have deceived you about my own participation in the uprising."
Merope nodded. "I admit much of my anger was about the secrecy... and you were also right that I have kept too many secrets from my own son. We’re all Slytherins, clearly," she said with a dark laugh, "and we’re paying the price for keeping our secrets. But... we can make something good and even beautiful out of this present situation, and that’s what I want to happen."
Severus managed a smile. Merope was pleased, and she considered how to continue. She did not want to betray Hermione’s confidence, and she did not think that she needed to. Severus had feelings for her—very strong ones. She just needed to reassure him that she returned those feelings herself.
"I want to make that happen as well," he said quietly. "What do you mean, though, when you say that "much’ of your anger was about my secrecy? Was there something else?"
She sighed. This was going to be difficult, and nothing in Hermione’s memory had addressed it. "I suppose that "anger’ might not be the most apt word to use for it. The bit that concerns me is... this Lily was engaged to be married. Did you know that? Pettigrew described it as a "seduction’—is that true? And, I suppose, if it is true... then how can you reassure me? I realize it was sixteen years ago. Was it just youth?"
Severus glared at his own lap, then breathed deeply to cool the surge of anger that had arisen in him. He raised his gaze to her face. "Pettigrew misrepresented it," he said bluntly. "I didn’t think you would appreciate any details of how it happened... but since you asked, I will tell you. Lily said that she and Potter had had a terrible fight and that the betrothal was off." He noticed that Merope’s eyes widened in surprise at this information, but it encouraged him. "I won’t repeat what she said about him, but suffice it to say that it was completely in keeping with my own wretched experiences with the lout at Hogwarts. I felt sorry for any witch who had been ill-used by James Potter, and... yes... I was young and idealistic. I believed that the rebellion might actually succeed and that Lily and I could have a chance in the future. When Lucius Malfoy had it so brutally put down, I made sure that Lily would be safe and then fled back to Parselhall. We both agreed that the relationship could not continue, because otherwise I would have to account for how I met her, since she didn’t go to Hogwarts. It would be far too dangerous. A month later, Pettigrew mentioned that Potter had married her." He glanced down again, unable to look Merope in the eye for this next confession. "I... have reason to think that she had already consummated her engagement with Potter when I met her, so it’s quite likely that they were intimate again before their wedding. I genuinely don’t know who is the blood father of Harry Potter."
Merope tried not to think about just how Severus must have figured out that Lily had not been a virgin. She considered the rest of what she had just learned. "Do you think that Lily returned to James Potter because she was with child?"
"If she did, it couldn’t have been because of me. Not that soon. The wedding itself occurred a month after the rebellion, so they had been making plans during that month. If she decided to marry him because she was pregnant, then it happened before I met her. But I think they really did reconcile after the rebellion. She never tried to correspond with me afterward."
Merope thought about this. "She told you that the engagement was off," she murmured. "I wonder why Pettigrew implied otherwise? I suppose he might not have known."
"That is just exactly what I hoped you would mention," he said, his tone suddenly much more aggressive. "My lady Merope, I will be honest with you: I do not trust Pettigrew and I don’t think he should have free rein in the castle."
Merope drew back. "Severus, I think you are allowing your dislike of Potter and Sirius Black to influence you against Pettigrew."
"It doesn’t help," he admitted, "but I have other questions about him."
She folded her hands on her lap and gazed at him. "And they are?"
"Well, for one, where has he been for five years? Or—granting him the first two—where has he been for the three that you have ruled here? He knew that you were here. He admitted it under Veritaserum. He claimed he was wary of you because you were a Gaunt, but that doesn’t explain what he was doing. I wish I’d asked him when he had that potion in him."
"Well, you did not, and now he has taken the oath to me. I can’t risk alienating him by letting you question him under serum whenever you like, Severus. You must understand that. Do you have actual cause to suspect him of anything?"
Severus explained his theory that Pettigrew was an indiscriminate information-gatherer and opportunist. Merope regarded him patiently as he talked. When he was finished, she thought about what he had said.
"There may be something in that," she said thoughtfully. "A wizard who feels betrayed by his lord, and rightly so, and who feels that he has nowhere to go. I can see it, I suppose. However, he did return to this fief. He certainly attempted to buy my loyalty with his information, even if he exaggerated and misled about some details. I am resolved to give him a chance, Severus—though I will limit him to only certain areas of the castle. I’ve set the Muggle tradesmen to work on his old manor today. It should be ready soon, and he can live there."
Severus was not satisfied, but he realized that the discussion of Pettigrew was at an end for now. Better not to press his luck—or digress from the more important subject at hand. They would have more opportunities to talk about this later.
"Now," Merope said, much more warmth in her words, "shall we talk about our own "business’ once more?"
"I would be delighted," he replied, his voice deeper than usual, to his own surprise.
"Well," she said, "first, I am sorry for the way I handled it the night before last. It was cold and abrupt and I took you for granted. I shouldn’t have. I... am not sure I could have offered a heartfelt confession of love at that point—I mean, it’s not because I don’t—that is to say—" She broke off, feeling her face flush. That was certainly an unfamiliar sensation. "It had been a long and difficult day. I had to see young Wilkes off, Pettigrew had arrived, Regulus Black had arrived, I had received frightening news of my former husband’s death, and my son and I had just had a terrible fight over that. That’s all that it was. It wasn’t because I—" She broke off again, feeling the heat rise once more. What is this? she thought in embarrassment and exasperation. I haven’t had this happen since I eloped with Sir Thomas. I am too old for this—
Severus was watching her in surprise—and growing amusement—at this fragmented explanation and the accompanying change in the color of her face. "So you do deem yourself capable of a "heartfelt confession of love’ at a better moment, my lady?"
She stared at him indignantly, but a smile played at the corners of her lips.
"I beg your pardon," he said, grinning. "Merope, of course."
At last, a laugh escaped her lips. It was not very musical; her voice had never been the most melodic, but to Severus, it was the sweetest sound in the world. He decided to be bold. Rising from his chair, he crossed the short distance between them, took her hands in his, and gently pulled her from her seat. Her smile was lopsided and her cheeks were as pink as he had ever seen them. A girlish laugh slipped from her throat as he embraced her and quickly planted a kiss on the side of her cheek.
Tom scowled in frustration as he cast the spell to clean a cauldron. Yet another solvent had failed with the green potion. Tom had no more idea of what it was now than he had when he first saw it, even though he had tested twenty diagnostic potions or general-purpose antidotes on it, a drop or two of the green potion at a time. A bloodied rag lay on the table, because some of the diagnostic potions were rather obscure and required a measure of human blood. It had been useless.
He gazed at the flask, which now contained only a few drops of it. He supposed he could return to the cave to scoop up more, but that seemed like a failure of sorts. The cave might even seal against him if he returned for any purpose other than to claim the hidden artifact. I am going to return to Hogwarts soon enough, he thought, storing the flask on a shelf in his room. I can ask Slughorn about it. He may have some insight. The thought crossed Tom’s mind that Snape might also know what the green potion was, or at least, how to determine what it was, but he was not going to tell this to Snape.
Thinking about Snape irritated him now. Apparently the new vassal, Pettigrew, had told Mother some compromising information of some sort about Snape while he was away, but they had quickly patched up their differences. It was incredibly frustrating that Tom would have to deal with this wizard, who clearly did not like him very much, as his stepfather in a couple of months. Nothing is going right for me, Tom thought. Wilkes is played for a fool by his own father... and I really hate the idea of being manipulated myself by Malfoy and Lestrange. My father deserved what he got, but I still hate it. Someday they will pay for everything they have done. But right now, I have been used for their ends, Mother has lost an alliance... and nothing else is going right either. I couldn’t get to the artifact that must be in that basin, and I still don’t know what to do. I am no closer to finding Slytherin’s chamber, because Mother won’t remove her hexes from the books about later family history. Hermione continues to be stubborn, if she even cares anything about me at all. I don’t know what Potter’s associates are involved in. And Mother is going to marry bloody Snape.
Tom’s serpent familiar seemed to sense his irritation and slithered around his wrist. He glanced down at the creature and managed a faint smile. A reminder of his heritage always helped, at least a little bit.
The new year at Hogwarts began soon, much to Tom’s relief. His mother and Snape discussed wedding plans daily, and he could hardly stand it anymore. He didn’t like the idea of Snape with his mother—sleeping with his mother—but there was more to it than that. The two of them sat at the family dinner table, or the family parlor, or anywhere in the castle, really, making eyes at each other like.... Well, like Hermione and I used to, Tom thought irritably. However, the subtle displays of affection that he witnessed did not inspire him to change his own behavior. If anything, they had the opposite effect. The last thing that Tom wanted to do was to allow the sight of Severus Snape eyeballing his mother to influence what he did. He just wanted to get back to Hogwarts to take the remnant of his green potion to Slughorn, to meet with his friends again, and to seek out the Chamber of Slytherin.
Wilkes had written to him to tell him about his father’s shocking death. Tom had written back, his words cold as ice, explaining the circumstances of that death. Wilkes’s reply had been properly horrified and embarrassed—as well it should, Tom thought. He decided not to punish Wilkes for the deception; Wilkes had not known what he was doing, after all. His father had been the traitor and oathbreaker, and he had paid the ultimate price for it. Knowing that one’s father had died for treachery was a punishment worse than anything Tom could mete out. Wilkes was technically the title-holder now, but since he was not of wizarding age, his mother would act for him. She had already assured Merope of her allegiance, and she did not seem to have been involved in her late husband’s dealings with Lestrange.
Yes, Tom thought confidently as he Apparated with Hermione into the street of Hogsmeade, I have plans for this year.
Next to him, Hermione was resolving to herself that she too would accomplish some important things. She would learn to Apparate, and she would do it quickly. She would get better marks than Tom in as many fields of magic as she could. And she would consult with Luna, Harry, and her other friends as often as possible to find out what was going on with their families.
The very first evening after the pupils of Hogwarts had classes with the masters, something happened to further Hermione’s last resolution. She was coming down from the Astronomy tower, her star chart in hand. She had been the final student to leave the class, but that was only because she wanted to be absolutely certain that she got everything correct. When she reached the base of the tower, she was startled out of her own thoughts by the sound of a witch and a wizard having a heated argument. To her even greater surprise, she recognized the voices as those of High Master Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.
"I don’t care, Albus—I don’t like it!"
Hermione hid herself away in the shadows behind the arched entrance to the tower.
"Now, Minerva," Dumbledore said in a soothing voice, "you surely understand that they must say certain things to get what they desire—what we must have, if this plan is to succeed. It does not mean that they intend to follow through."
"You presume much, Albus." McGonagall’s voice was laced with anger. "You have blinded yourself to certain inconvenient truths about our so-called allies. I think they do believe what they are saying."
"That is a very serious accusation, Minerva." His tone was suddenly no longer soothing.
"But a valid one. Have you failed to see how every one of the boys currently here behaves? I assure you, I haven’t. Of all the people to negotiate on our behalf—"
"I cannot imagine what your objection is. He is a gentle, mild wizard."
"She isn’t, and in a matter like this one, he would do exactly as she asked him to! That’s all he has ever done, and she is genuinely the worst witch possible for this role!"
"This discussion isn’t appropriate for the halls of Hogwarts," Dumbledore said sharply. "In fact, as far as I’m concerned, it is at an end. I trust the assignments I have made." He turned and walked briskly in the direction of his own office. Hermione held her breath as McGonagall walked in the other direction, which took her right past the Astronomy tower entrance—but the older witch did not detect Hermione’s presence.
She waited several minutes to be certain that the hallways were clear before hurrying to the Slytherin common room, thinking hard and fast about what she had just heard.
"I really don’t know what that could mean," Harry murmured under his breath that evening after Hermione told him what she had overheard. Tom was not present in the common room at all, so they did not have to worry about his eavesdropping. "It certainly sounds as if Professor McGonagall is very unhappy with the parents of someone here...."

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