Pure

From, Home

Rain pattered at my window, waking me up. It was another cloudy, grey day, which was becoming more frequent as Christmas neared.

I secretly loved the rain. It was always cool and refreshing, like a constant breeze that snuck onto my eyelashes if I looked up at it. The rain made everything so much greener, and I loved the view of Hagrid's hut surrounded in mist while the chimney let out warm smoke from Hagrid's fire inside. I wished I could see his hut through the trees right now. I was sure Hagrid was feeling terrible in this time. Riddle must've gotten him expelled within the last year or so. I shook away that thought.

I didn't let myself think about Riddle as I got ready that morning. He was making things too complicated for my brain to keep up with. Last night had been one of the strangest nights I've had since I got to 1943. Riddle seemed so different, and I didn't know what to think about that. One minute, he was as I expected a young Voldemort to be, and then the next, it was like he was just a troubled orphan boy trying to figure out what he should do in his life. That orphan boy was the Riddle that I allowed myself to touch last night.

When I finished putting on my robes, I grabbed a copy of the book I was reading for Charms class, and went down to breakfast, prepared to sit alone at the Gryffindor table as I usually did. What surprised me, however, was that when I got to the Great Hall, a dark-haired wizard from the Slytherin table raised his hand and gestured for me to sit where he was sitting already. My mind raced in confusion, just like last night, but I couldn't think of a possible explanation to Riddle's odd behavior.

I decided to go along with it and and sit with Riddle. Maybe I could pull some secrets out of him. I did not allow myself to register that I was personally curious about Riddle as well.

"Good morning, Riddle," I said only as brightly as a Slytherin would, trying out his real name, instead of 'My Lord.' To my surprise, Riddle didn't even seem to notice.

"Morning," Riddle replied.

And that was it. That was the entire conversation we had. He simply turned back to his plate, which was fairly bare, and from time to time, would pick at it. I filled my plate, and started sipping on some pumpkin juice. We sat like this for quite some time, but what was odd was that I didn't feel uncomfortable in this silence. I looked around for Abraxas, but he was nowhere to be found, which was a good thing. I needed to talk to him, but I didn't want to see him when I was with Riddle. I also didn't see Clive, which was another good thing. I didn't know what I would do when I saw him. I'd feel guilty but I couldn't afford guilt. Riddle would sense it, and everything I worked towards getting close to him would fall apart.

I glanced at Riddle in between a bite of toast and noticed he was had opened a book and started reading from it. I frowned when I noticed our routines were disturbingly alike, and we even had very similar interests, even in regards to learning dark spells. I learned them to understand them and deflect them easier, not to cast them myself, but sometimes I wished I could use them. With the looming war back home, it would be nice to fight fire with fire... but then I remembered that I was doing just that now.

If Riddle had the opportunity to go into my time, he would be clever about it. He wouldn't reveal himself, he would charm everyone, including me, into telling him exactly how to succeed in his endeavors, and not get himself almost killed in the process. That was his specialty in this time. He could charm the living wits out of almost everyone, except for myself and Dumbledore. He didn't spend time socializing though, he was just pleasant enough for people not to become suspicious of him.

Riddle didn't regard anyone and no one ever approached him, but they always glanced at him for one reason or another. Most of the boys either stared at Riddle in disdain or confusion due to his aloof behavior most of the time.