Seven Devils ★ T.M.R ★

Chapter Three

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T. M. RIDDLE
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A LONG WEEK passed. Outside, the spring sun streamed down on the fresh landscape and Marina began to see the lushness of summer encroaching on the grounds. Madam Pomfrey ruled the Hospital Wing with an iron fist, and as Marina grew stronger and began to venture outside her bed, her movements were under strict regulation – whether for concern for her recovery or on orders from Dumbledore, Marina couldn't tell. It amounted to the same thing anyway.

Marina resolved to request books from the library to fill her time. Boredom was a torture to which she was particularly vulnerable, having grown unaccustomed to it with videos, podcasts, and messaging to fill her downtime back in the 21st century. Madam Pomfrey supplied her with the textbooks listed on the first year's curriculum, and Marina read them ravenously. She had wanted to read these books since she'd first read The Philosopher's Stone at age 6, had gone over the acceptance letter time and time again, imagining she would receive her own at age 11. It felt like living out her childhood fantasy – over a decade later than expected but that didn't seem to matter anymore.

She had almost forgotten about her conversation with Dumbledore when he reappeared suddenly the following Friday, startling her where she lay with Adalbert Waffling's Magical Theory open on her lap.

"Jesus, sir," she exclaimed, clutching her chest. "I didn't think you could apparate in Hogwarts grounds?"

"A rule I am yet to break – you must have been very enthralled by that book to miss my approach," Dumbledore smiled, eyes twinkling. "I must say, I would be happy if half the first years took as much interest in their prescribed texts as you do."

"Well, it's a bit different for me isn't it," Marina said, tucking a scrap of parchment paper into the pages to mark her place before putting the book aside. "I don't have to read it."

"Indeed, curious how being told to do something makes it immensely less appealing," Dumbledore mused. "How do you feel? Madam Pomfrey tells me you are much recovered."

"Yeah, I feel pretty much normal," she smiled. "The bleeding noses have finally stopped, and my fingernails are back to their normal colour," She splayed out her hands out in front of her – only a hint of the angry reddish purple that had spread through her nail beds remained, lining the edge of her cuticles.

"Excellent news," he said cheerily. "I hope you don't mind but Madam Pomfrey has been taking extensive notes on your condition – we suspect you might be the first person to attempt and survive time travel of this degree. The last known individual only made it three years."

Although he said it in a warm tone, Marina felt a chill sink in her stomach. She hadn't even meant to 'attempt' it, as he'd put. Someone, or something had put her life on the line, and a risky line at that. "That's fine," she said feebly.

"Now then," Dumbledore said more seriously. "To discuss what you proposed last week." He sat down on the bed adjacent to hers and fixed her with an intense gaze. "What you suggested is a dangerous plan. There are any number of risks, opportunities for things to go awry, and unknowable variables. However..." He looked over the rim of this spectacles. "I must admit, you made some astute points. There is a sense to your plan, and in the criticisms that you dealt me. Perhaps in young Tom's case I did not conduct myself in the most... constructive manner."

Marina scoffed slightly, which Dumbledore blithely chose to ignore. "I only ask that you consider this; if we move forward with this plan, you must accept that in the case of failure, if Tom is unwilling – or unable to learn remorse – I am afraid I will have no other choice."