Seven Devils ★ T.M.R ★

Chapter Eight

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THE FLAW IN THE PLAN
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MARINA PAUSED IN front of the fireplace, tugging at her shirt nervously. Hands unable to stay still, she started smoothing down her hair, immediately followed by pulling on her own sleeves.

Her clock gave a dramatic sigh – seven on the dot. It was time. She filled a hand with Floo powder, outstretched it, but still she hesitated. Nerves had overcome her. Over the past week since their visit to the store, Dumbledore's letters had disclosed less and less detail on Riddle's progress. Although he had decided to allow her back into the meetings, Dumbledore clearly still did not trust her with too much crucial detail. Apparently, her little excursion with spilling the beans to Riddle was going to haunt her a lot longer than she'd expected.

She had very little idea what was waiting for her at the other end of the fireplace. Marina wished that her relationship with the Order was better than it was – it was hard having people who you had admired and dreamed of meeting look at you like you were an unpredictable liability. Knowing she was walking into what was bound to be a tense confrontation had hung heavy on Marina all week.

Trying to force down the thick feeling in her throat, Marina threw down the powder and said, "Dumbledore's office!" with as much force as she could. It didn't help that she could hear the tremor in her own voice.

She stepped into the room to find it dead silence and impossibly tense. McGonagall, Lupin, and Riddle sat in chairs arching around Dumbledore's desk, with two empty seats closest to her. One a token for Moody – who stood darkly against the far wall – and one waiting ominously for her. Dumbledore sat perfectly still, hands clasped on his desk, the diary sitting inches from him. Riddle's eyes were fixed on it, his jaw was tight. No one in the room looked happy.

"Ah, Marina," said Dumbledore with impressive nonchalance as he gestured to the empty chairs. "Please join us, we were waiting for you."

"Sorry," she murmured, sliding into the seat next to McGonagall. Across the semicircle of seats, Riddle's gaze briefly flickered over to her. They shared a loaded look before both turned to face Dumbledore. The room seemed to hold its breath.

"Let's begin," said Dumbledore softly. "There are several points of order to cover tonight. Let's begin with perhaps the simplest – the matter of Tom's accommodation. While this is not a pressing issue, once Tom becomes full corporeal, he will need a place to live."

"Why not Hogwarts?" asked Marina, confused.

Riddle looked suddenly very hopeful, but still remained silent. Marina realised she still didn't even know if he could talk yet.

"Absolutely not," Dumbledore said firmly. "There is old magic and powerful secrets in Hogwarts that Tom himself has admitted to hunting in the past. I'm afraid being here would offer unnecessary temptation..."

Riddle's expression returned to its former sullen stare, but he made no move to disagree. Perhaps it was something they had discussed in private. Marina felt helplessly out of the loop.

"Sir," she said slowly, "surely... isn't this one of those times..."

Lupin looked over at her. "Your desire to lead by example is commendable," he said tiredly, "but there is a line between acting in good faith and acting foolishly."

Marina nodded, feeling embarrassed. Both her contributions so far had been immediately shot down. She felt very strongly that no one was going to take anything she said very seriously anymore.

"The boy can stay with me," said Moody in his gravelly voice. "I'll keep an eye on him." His wild blue eye roamed over Riddle's form as if demonstrating his point.