The Thirteenth Hour

Chapter 6

I just pretend that I'm in the dark
I don't regret 'cause my heart can't take a loss
I'd rather be so oblivious
I'd rather be with you
In Your Eyes - The Weeknd

—
The rain which had started earlier in the week had cleared up, and as Luna returned to Ravenclaw Tower after leaving the library, the afternoon sun shone in through the windows. She chewed her lip thoughtfully as she moved through Hogwarts' familiar corridors.

She had considered every possibility a thousand and one times. The most drastic - killing Tom Riddle - was out of the question. She was not arrogant enough as to assume she knew what such an act performed in the past might do to the future, even though it seemed the simplest option, and she was too afraid to cause some negative consequence that she had not foreseen.

And besides that, she was fairly certain she couldn't muster up the hatred and Dark intent required to make the Killing Curse work properly. She was more likely to give him a stomach ache and get herself arrested several decades in the past for using an Unforgivable Curse...or even killed herself, if Riddle had time to retaliate.

Luna tossed her bag into an empty armchair in front of a sunny window in the nearly-empty common room, then sat in the chair next to it with a sigh. She twiddled one of her Dirigible plum earrings. Even knowing what she knew about the boy, knowing he would be the reason Harry and Neville didn't have parents someday, she did not feel hatred when she saw him sweeping around the castle in his school robes with his clear skin, sharp eyes, and even sharper tongue. Confusion, perhaps, at how such a bright and talented boy had become so twisted. But not hatred.

Dumbledore's words before lunch had spurred her to approach Tom in the library, and now she wasn't sure she had interpreted them correctly. Maybe Dumbledore knew that Tom was beyond help and he had meant something else entirely; maybe she was misunderstanding his words. Luna paused in playing with her earring. Was he beyond help?

What had Harry told them, when he had shared the news about the Horcruxes with them in whispers? That first time they discussed it, they had sat with their heads together, the six of them - Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Luna - pouring over each detail they knew, trying to piece it together. Luna recalled the nausea that had come over her that night, coming in waves as they talked.

And now...Tom was in his sixth year, nearly a man. He had opened the Chamber of Secrets in his fifth year, meaning the boy she was speaking to had already murdered Moaning Myrtle.

She swallowed. He had also already murdered his father, not one month ago. Had he already made his first Horcrux? Had he already made more than one?

Dumbledore didn't know these things, otherwise he wouldn't have given her such advice, if she was indeed interpreting his cryptic words correctly.

Luna felt foolish. She had approached him without thinking it through, an impulse which had done nothing more than draw more attention to herself, attention of the future Lord Voldemort. How was she to help someone who didn't want her help, who was a dangerous Dark wizard and murderer already? What redemption was possible for a fractured soul?

***

The weekend came, sunny and crisp. Tom spent nearly his entire Saturday in the library. In between long periods of doing his homework, he slipped into the Restricted Section to study those Dark things in which he was most interested, spinning the ring on his finger with his thumb as he read.

That evening after dinner, he glanced around the Slytherin common room and felt smothered. Instead of settling down with his usual group, he took his cloak from his dormitory, pinned his Prefect badge to the front, and headed back out into the castle. He made his way down to the entrance hall, then pulled one of the great oak doors open to slip outside into the night.