palinode: a poem that recants a regretted statement or a previous poem.
Harry awakens to the sound of rattling windows. While the snow has stopped, the wind screeches relentlessly, a reminder that Scotland is still in the depth of winter. He checks the time; there’s an hour to go before midnight.
The decision is split-second. He takes out his new Firebolt, newly polished only that morning, and slips out of Gryffindor Tower. The castle is deathly silent, its inhabitants either asleep or sequestered inside cozy quarters. Harry doesn’t pass anyone on his way to the entrance hall, though he doubts he’d get into trouble even if he’s seen.
Before heading outside, he casts an Impervius Charm followed by a Disillusionment Charm, and then he takes off. The new model Firebolt is indeed a huge upgrade over his school broom, and the smoothness of the glide is little affected by the wind.
Harry has never seen Hogwarts at night from this vantage point, which is especially ethereal without the presence of humans and creatures, and with only a feeble moonlight to serve as illumination. A ghostly mist engulfs its grounds like a giant cloud, thickening and thinning at odd intervals, through which Harry catches glimpses of the lake and the forest.
Heedless of the cold, he urges the Firebolt to soar higher and higher in aimless lazy loops until he ends up at the part of Hogwarts that he seldom visits. There, some distance away from the repaired Wooden Bridge, resides a circle of large stones that is allegedly more ancient than the castle itself.
Something about the stone circle calls out to Harry, who nudges the broom into a descent and alights on the ground to find that Riddle has been drawn by the same aura. He stands before the stones, studying them intently.
Harry ends the Disillusionment Charm and approaches, his footsteps alerting Riddle to his presence even before he asks, “Can’t sleep either?”
Riddle doesn’t turn. “I don’t sleep.”
It’s always jarring to be reminded that Riddle isn’t actually alive.
“Is this where you spend time at night?”
“Sometimes, yes. This was one of my favorite haunts as a student.” Riddle rests his hand against the stone and lowers his head, as if he’s listening to it speak. “They say the stones predate the founders of Hogwarts.”
Following Riddle’s line of vision, Harry notices for the first time the faint runes etched on the rough stony surface, partially rubbed smooth with time.
“I heard from my friend Hermione once that it’s modeled after Stonehenge,” Harry says.
“It is indeed. Have you been?”
Harry shakes his head. He only knows it’s some famous ancient site in Wiltshire; in primary school, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had taken Dudley to visit while Harry spent the weekend with Mrs. Figg and her cats.
“It’s worth a visit in your lifetime. The arrangement of the stones, whether at Stonehenge or here, has deeper significance that we haven’t fully unraveled, even now. Go on,” Riddle says, lightly nudging Harry’s wrist, “you can touch the stones for yourself.”
He moves slightly to the side and removes his own hand. Carefully, Harry presses his palm against the stone, still warm from Riddle’s touch. The stone thrums, alive and vibrant in spite of its stolid appearance. Heart thudding from the odd intimacy of the moment, Harry glances at Riddle, who’s watching him with a half-smile.
YOU ARE READING
(Never) Let Me Go
FanfictionWhen Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for eighth year, he meets a new classmate: Tom Riddle. For better or for worse, he's the only one who does. this story is not mine. It belongs to Ailora, from ACHIEVE OF OUR OWN. this book is the first part of h...
