The Dark Lord's Seer

The Library

It was a cold morning. I could feel the chill even from beneath the blankets I'd burrowed myself into. I groaned as I willed my eyes to slowly open. More sleep. I needed to sleep for days. I shook my head from side to side: time to get up. I had to get started.

A few things ran through my mind as I struggled out of bed and into my bathroom. Firstly, if I saw Tom today - and I should anticipate that happening - then it was absolutely essential he not know I'd had a vision last night. No matter what, under any circumstances, could I allow him to find that out. And that meant that no matter how exhausted and achy I was, no matter how much every bit of me was crying out in agony, I had to hide it from him.

Of course, given the events that'd transpired between the two of us last night, if all else failed and he did detect something amiss, I could always blame it on our encounter. The bastard did physically assault me, on top of his usual sexual molestations.

On to the next order of business. Having washed my face and brushed my teeth, I headed into the bedroom, tugging on a pair of comfortable slacks and a sweater as I continued mentally preparing myself. I had to constantly be turning over the raven's clue in the back of my mind. I had to tease out the meaning of that as soon as I could, especially knowing as I did now that I was the determining factor of whether or not Tom would acquire Godric's sword.

I slammed my drawer shut and frowned. The Diadem was a lost cause. Though I hadn't seen its location, I'd very clearly seen Tom in possession of it. And unless some monumental change in the fabric of our universe occurred - not impossible, but astronomically low probability - then that was a done deal, a temporally sealed event. But the sword. If he wanted that sword, and I could keep him from getting it, I was going to do every goddamn thing I could to do so.

I cried out in pain as I bent over to slip on a fresh pair of socks. I cursed at myself - see, that. That's exactly the type of thing I need to hide. Do not let him see you struggle.

Standing back up, my brain continued racing forward: last but not least, as I'd be now doing at every opportunity going forward, I had to be on the lookout for Rashaad. For a chance to speak to him in private, no matter how brief. I had to know if I could actually trust him, and what he'd meant when he said we'd talk.

My summons came in the form of another small white envelope popping into existence and dropping down onto the bedside table. Oh, Tom. Nothing if not a wee bit predictable. I unfolded the parchment gently. One word. That elegant script, centred on the page: "Study." I nodded to myself, setting the parchment down. Remember: show no pain. An instructive hint for dealing with Tom Riddle on any day, not just today.

I arrived as quickly as I could, my legs crying out at me as I forced my way down the hall and to his study. And when I got there, I tapped gingerly on the double doors. They opened, just as I'd expected them to. He was alone, seated at his desk, one hand on his chin as he watched my approach. He didn't ask me to sit, and so I stood there before him, waiting patiently.

"I had an idea," he murmured, his eyes fixed intently on mine.

"Alright."

"Since we need to build your endurance for Divining..."

You need that. You, not we. You. So that you can exploit me.

But I didn't actually say anything, I just stared at him, waiting.

"There's a sizeable collection of books in my private library. Some of them are quite rare collectables on Divination and Augury."

So we're just going to ignore everything that happened yesterday? Fine by me.