Timeless Charm (Tomione fanfic)

Chapter 29: Birdbath

Tom walked through the hallway, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet beneath him, he couldn't shake the sense of urgency gnawing at his insides. The corridors were eerily quiet at this late hour, the only sound the faint echo of his own footsteps reverberating off the stone walls.

Approaching Dumbledore's office, Tom hesitated for a moment, his hand poised to knock on the heavy wooden door. Despite the late hour, he knew Dumbledore often worked well into the night, his office a beacon of activity amidst the darkness of Hogwarts.

To Tom's surprise, the door swung open with a gentle creak, revealing the dimly lit interior of Dumbledore's office. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting ethereal patterns across the room. But as Tom stepped inside, he found the office eerily silent and empty, devoid of the usual warmth and vitality that characterized Dumbledore's presence.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Tom called out tentatively, his voice echoing softly in the empty space. But there was no response, save for the faint rustle of papers in the still air. Uncertainty crept into Tom's mind as he scanned the room, a sense of unease settling over him like a shroud. Where could Dumbledore be at this hour, and why was his office left unattended?

"Harry," the whisper floated through the air, barely audible yet unmistakable. Tom froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Harry? The name sparked a flicker of recognition in his mind.

Slowly, cautiously, Tom approached the source of the voice, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit room. As he drew nearer, he spotted a birdbath nestled in the corner, bathed in an eerie blue light. The voice, Hermione's voice, called out again, echoing in haunting whispers that sent shivers down Tom's spine.

"Hermione," he murmured under his breath, the realization dawning on him. The birdbath held memories, fragments of Hermione's past, suspended in time like ethereal wisps of smoke. Memories of a friend named Harry, memories of a world long gone yet still alive within the confines of the magical pool.

As Tom stood before the birdbath, a profound sense of reverence washed over him. He remembered Hermione's words, her comparison of him to Harry, and he knew he had stumbled upon something deeply personal, something to be respected and cherished.

With a heavy heart, Tom turned to leave, to give Hermione's memories the privacy they deserved. But before he could take a single step, a chilling declaration echoed in the air, sending a shiver down his spine.

"I need to save everyone from the dark lord, from Tom Riddle."

The words lingered in the air, heavy with a weight that seemed to anchor itself to Tom's thoughts, refusing to be dismissed. An unsettling surge of unease flooded through him as he pondered Hermione's unexpected call. Why had she whispher his name? Why had she intervened to save everyone from him? And the unsettling question persisted: how had Hermione discovered the name he had intended to use in the future?

Tom's feet trembled beneath him, a physical manifestation of his overwhelming apprehension. He hesitated, gripped by a fear that threatened to engulf him entirely. The notion of delving into Hermione's memories was daunting, fraught with the possibility of confronting a reality that shattered the facade he had constructed. The fear gnawed at him, whispering doubts about the authenticity of everything Hermione had revealed to him. Was it possible that it was all an elaborate deception?

With a heart pounding like a distant drumbeat, Tom slowly approached the birdbath in Dumbledore's office. His hands trembled as he reached out, fingertips grazing the cool surface of the water. The room was enveloped in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint echo of his own breath and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, which seemed to reverberate off the walls.

With a hesitant exhale, Tom bowed his head, letting his fingers trail along the edge of the birdbath before finally submerging his head beneath the still water. It enveloped him in its embrace, cocooning him in a world of muted sounds and distorted reflections.

Beneath the surface, his mind swirled with uncertainty and fear, mirroring the turbulent waters around him. Images and thoughts clashed and churned, threatening to overwhelm his senses. Yet, amidst the chaos, there was a strange clarity—a sense of revelation waiting to be unearthed.

As Tom lifted his head from the water, his hands trembled uncontrollably. "No, no, no," the words echoed relentlessly in his mind, each repetition striking a chord of denial within him. Denial of the truth he couldn't bear to face.

Hermione was from the future, and in that future, he had become a dark lord. The realization sent a jolt of conflicting emotions coursing through him. Would he feel relief at knowing his destiny, or would he succumb to anger, anguish, or pain at the depths of the deception?

His mind reeled as he grappled with the revelation. Hermione Pecquiry—no, Hermione Jean Granger—had manipulated his feelings, exploiting his vulnerability. She was a deceptive figure, a double-sided coin that had spun him into confusion and despair.

With a heavy heart and trembling knees, Tom collapsed to the ground, the weight of his realization crushing his chest, making it hard to breathe. The memory of the disdainful gazes of the Slytherin students haunted him, a constant reminder of the hatred they harbored for him once they knew his true nature. And it was all because of Hermione Granger, the one he had foolishly fallen in love with, the one who now seemed poised to betray him.

Forcing himself to stand, Tom staggered out of Dumbledore's office, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridors as he ran, desperate to escape the suffocating grip of his emotions. "No one loves you, Tom," the cruel whispers followed him, taunting him with their harsh truths. "Everyone hates you."

Driven by instinct, his feet carried him to the second-floor girls' lavatory—a place of solitude, a place where he once felt safe. But now, it held a deeper significance. It was the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, a refuge where he could retreat from the harsh realities of the world above.

With trembling hands, Tom pried open the entrance to the chamber, seeking solace in the darkness that awaited him within. Despite the uncertainty that lay ahead, he knew that within those hidden depths, he would find the answers he sought, the strength to face the betrayal that had shattered his world.

*****

Moments earlier, Archon stood in the girls' lavatory, a nagging hunch pulling at his instincts. He had a gut feeling that the door to the Chamber of Secrets was concealed within these very walls. Just as he was about to leave, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the empty room, prompting him to duck into one of the stalls, hiding in the shadows.

Peering through a crack in the door, Archon watched as Tom Riddle rushed into the lavatory, his usually composed demeanor shattered, his face twisted with distress. Archon's curiosity piqued. What had happened to the infamous Tom Riddle to reduce him to such a wreck?

As Tom moved about the lavatory, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings, Archon's attention was drawn to a particular stall. With a deft movement, Tom opened the door, revealing a hidden entrance concealed within. A rush of excitement surged through Archon as he realized what lay beyond—the fabled Chamber of Secrets.

A wicked smile spread across Archon's lips as he watched Tom disappear into the secret passage. Finally, after days of speculation and searching, he had discovered the elusive entrance to the Chamber. With a sense of triumph coursing through him, Archon stepped out of the stall and approached the hidden door, anticipation bubbling within him as he prepared to unveil the secrets that lay hidden within the Chamber of Secrets.