Wisdom and Victory {Fred Weasley}

Chapter 10

I don't think I've ever written such a vivid description of how to use a computer. Take notes :)

Victoria took one deep breath, clutching her wand and her notebook inside her cloak, before stepping outside McGonagall House, attempting to close the door behind her. Charlie poked his head round it before she could and she shooed him back inside. "And not a word of this to Mother," she added with a glare, before locking the scarlet front door.

She hurried down the road, that was littered with one or two other stone houses that towered up, making her feel exposed. It was nine o'clock on the second day of the Christmas holidays, and Victoria was already breaking the agreement she'd made with her mother. It didn't sit well with her - sneaking out - but as far as she was concerned, she was an adult, and she was always going to have to keep some secrets, wasn't she?

Turning into a field surrounded by many a towering tree, she concealed herself before turning and dispparating, finding herself in the side street just off Diagon Alley. She hurried through the bustling snow-packed street, full of last minute shoppers, before making her way through the ale-stinking pub and into muggle London. She thought they all looked rather odd, with their coats instead of cloaks. How were they keeping their fingers warm without huddling into the thick material like she did?

Marvelling no more than they did to her, she pushed through the equally busy streets, wrinkling her nose at the odd smells, and fast moving traffic that looked like lots of tiny trains. Maybe muggle studies would have been a good idea. She'd pick up a book from Flourish and Blotts on the way back, her Christmas present to herself.

Finally, after twenty minutes of walking, she found what she was looking for. A dated and worn building, with peeling letters above the grubby glass doors. The National Archives. It was in no way a new or old building, just one that sat firmly in the middle of time.

She stepped inside, inhaling the scent of ageing paper that she loved so dearly. It was like being back in the Hogwarts library. In truth, she couldn't think of a better place in the world. She stepped hastily towards the front desk, removing her gloves and smiling warmly at the woman sat there, who peered at her with distasteful curiosity. "I'd like to retrieve some files please," said Victoria pleasantly. "On somebody called Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Funny name," said the woman, not at all entertained. Victoria forced another smile. "Reference number?"

"Sorry?"

"Reference number," repeated the woman. "For the documents you need?"

"I don't have one, I'm afraid," she said, biting her lip and beginning to worry.

"You can get one from the computer," she said, pointing, before returning to whatever she'd been doing before.

Victoria followed her finger to a glowing row of cubes, each with strings coming out of them and connecting to rectangular boards with different shaped buttons on them, or else leading into the wall. She cast an uncertain glance at the woman, now deeply reabsorbed in her work, before stepping carefully over, removing her cloak and scarf as she did.

She sat on the stiff chair, the harsh white light glaring at her. She read the words on the box, narrowing her eyes and squinting at it. She could read, but books didn't usually glow at her. Search our archives:

  Underneath was a rectangle with a vertical line that flashed at her. She glanced nervously around, looking for some indication of what she was supposed to do. The woman at the front desk had her own bright box, and was pressing buttons on the rectangle underneath it in a seemingly random order. She glanced down at her own. Each of the buttons had a letter of the alphabet on it, and some had arrows or symbols on them that she wasn't willing to decode. On the bottom row was a long, narrow button that she pressed gently down. It made a clicking noise, and the flashing line jumped to the side.

She bit her lip, before pressing in the button marked 'T'. A lowercase 't' appeared in the box. Smiling, she typed out the rest of the name she wanted, putting spaces between the words. She sat back. Nothing happened. Had she broken it? There was a red square that read, Search, next to the rectangle. And what was this odd bread roll-shaped thing that had a string connecting it to the box?

Victoria picked it up, staring curiously at the beam of red light on its underside that spat into her eyes. Blinking stupidly, she put it back down on the table. The little arrow on the box shuffled a little upon the collision. She moved the blinding-machine again, and the arrow moved again. Concentrating, and sticking her tongue out a bit, she moved it over the red search square. It turned into a pointing hand. What did she do now? Not wanting to shift the finger anymore, she leant close to the arrow-mover. It looked like it had two large buttons on it, one left and one right, along with a partially submerged wheel. She pressed the first one, on the left and jumped as the screen flashed.

Eighty-six results for your search.

Victoria felt her eyes grow wide. Eighty-six? She didn't have all day. How many documents on You-Know-Who could there be? But upon closer inspection, not all of them read 'Tom Marvolo Riddle'. She frowned, looking at the reference number of the top result. It was far too long to remember. She pulled out her notebook, looking around for a quill. There weren't any, but there was a little discarded thing, the end of which looked like a nib. Was that ink inside it? Feeling rather stupid, she pressed the tip to her paper, and drew a line across the top of her page. That was cool, she hadn't even needed an ink pot! She quickly glanced back at the box.

The third result read, Tom Marvolo Riddle - Record - Wool's Orphanage. She quickly jotted down the reference number for that one, it had to be him. Using the arrow that pointed down, she looked for more, but it seemed that was all. Aside from one. Tom Riddle - Police Report, murder investigation - closed. Surely that would be worth a read? She wrote that one down, tearing off the corner of her paper, before handing it over to the woman with an unreturned friendly smile.