The Patronus of Tom Riddle

Actually, Tom’s entire protest ended with his refusal to accompany Aola to the holiday. Having left his transport at the public broom-stand, he began to wander through the village without much purpose, glancing toward the road so as not to miss his beloved’s appearance. He had to manage to look as if he were having a wonderful and merry time without her, didn’t he? Hogsmeade was crowded: it seemed wizards from all around had gathered to have fun in their own circle, without worrying about eternal concealment. Happy children chased eggs; here and there, thin voices called out “warmer” or “freezing!” One such egg, red with silver spots, dashed across the boy’s path, nearly landing under his boot, and scurried into a flowerpot decorating the entrance to the tavern. Holding his breath, Tom carefully parted the stems and quickly covered it with his palm. “Hot!” it squeaked merrily beneath his fingers. Tom picked up the egg. The shell suddenly began to crack, and after a few seconds, a… very pretty pink chick was on his palm. It scratched its tiny beak with a tiny foot and chirped. The boy was surprised: previously, inside such an egg, he had only found something edible — chocolate, for example. But for a live chick to hatch, and a pink one at that — this was a first. “Oh, how wondel-ful!” a curly-haired little girl in a smart dress slowed down, nearly crashing into Tom, and jumped, clapping her hands and lifting her shining little eyes to him. “Here,” Tom handed over the fledgling, making sure the girl took it properly. After a moment’s thought, he turned the remaining shells into a bouquet of violets. When the spell weakened, they would become shells again. The Cinderella story didn’t lie: carriage into pumpkin, horses into mice. But until then, the flowers would delight the girl. “Thank you, sel!” the little one thanked him. So that was that… a child to some, but a “sir” to others. “You are welcome… Run to your mother,” Tom replied automatically. Lately, he hardly recognized himself… And suddenly, looking after the child, he thought that Aola would one day have just such a beautiful daughter. No, even more beautiful. Aola’s… and his. A little curly-haired angel with her mother’s eyes. Why not? He would be a good father… a real one. He would spoil his daughter, read her fairy tales, delight her with gifts… love her. With all his heart. And he would never leave her alone. He wouldn’t abandon her as he had been abandoned. Catching himself, Tom nearly slapped his forehead. What was he raving about?! What daughter? Who was he and who was Miss Meroving? Milady was simply playing with him… out of boredom in this backwater. Tom headed to the other end of Hogsmeade, where, according to the “heralds” screeching at every crossroad, the promised fair was already open and a traveling circus was giving a performance. Wizards aren’t surprised by tricks — they have plenty of their own — but who would refuse to look at a trained hippogriff or a manticore? On the large heath north of the village, between yellow islands of blooming gorse, bright tents, carousels, and entire rows of market stalls had sprung up. Tom had managed to see all this while still in flight. Laughter, music, the voices of traders and barkers, appetizing smells. Tom suddenly felt very hungry. He had been sulking and had missed breakfast so as not to fall under her charm and melt… prematurely. He already missed her and realized, to his considerable annoyance, that he would come running as soon as Aola beckoned with a finger. Her power over him both frightened and fascinated him. After wandering between the stalls, the boy bought some Scotch eggs — a traditional snack — and a slice of chocolate cake. Stepping aside, he looked around for a place to eat in peace. Near a large circus tent where a performance was already underway, a two-legged hyppotan* was entertaining the public with marksman-like archery. Tom at first took him for a faun, but the short grey fur on the lower part of his body and a long tail with a tuft convinced him he was mistaken. They say his closest relatives, the centaurs, live in the Forbidden Forest, but the boy had never seen them in the flesh. Having shot all his arrows, the creature paced majestically toward the target, clicking donkey hooves, refilled his quiver, and returned to his place. The audience applauded; coins showered into a small leather chest standing at his feet. The onocentaur was indeed a fine shot. They say they are incredibly short-tempered and arrogant. Cross such a one, and you won’t have time to pull out your wand. Measuring the people with a haughty look from his black eyes, the hyppotan drew his bowstring again. Trained muscles stood out sharply on his broad shoulders and back. The string sang, and the arrow pierced the very center of the target. Impressed, Tom sat on a rock nearby and unwrapped his parcel of food. Before biting into the golden-crusted egg, he shook it just in case and even breathed on it. He wouldn’t want anyone to hatch from it right in the process. But no surprises occurred — just tasty food, which the hungry student quickly and hungrily swallowed. After the cake and cider, his mood rose significantly, and Tom decided to have a look at the rare exotic animals. So as not to disturb the strollers with a strong animal scent, the cages and enclosures were set up closer to the shore of the lake, far from the fair. He would wander through the menagerie, and then the circus performance would begin anew. Having paid for entry and listened to a pile of instructions like “do not be rude to the hippogriff,” “do not look at the scitalis for too long,” and “do not feed sweets to the manticore or the leucrotta,” Tom moved leisurely between the imposing-looking cages. On each hung a warning about how one should behave near the animal. Around particularly dangerous specimens, besides thick bars, an energy barrier also glowed. One such caused Tom surprise. A bull like any other to look at, only with a horse’s mane. It stood there, chewing its hay. What was so dangerous about it? The sign with the name and description was blocked by the crowd. “Papa, is that a polny?” came from above. “No, sunshine, that is a bonnacon.” Tom turned and saw the very same little girl to whom he had given the chick, on the shoulders of a large, bearded man. “And why is thelle a balliel?” “Because it is a dangerous animal; it can cause harm if teased. Remember how you teased our Missy, and she scratched you?” “I won’t do it anymole…” The moment of sincere childhood repentance was interrupted in the most vulgar fashion — the bonnacon, irritated by the large influx of people, suddenly roared indignantly, plowed the ground with a hoof, and turned its tail to the public… Splat-splat-splat! Liquid manure flowed down the transparent blue dome. “Ugh!!!” The space in front of the cage emptied instantly. Curiosity prevailed over innate squeamishness, and Tom read in proud solitude that the bonnacon’s manure was also poisonous — it caused burns. Indeed… The formidable manticore turned out to be a sad beast with dull ginger fur and a face that indeed remotely resembled human features. It lay in the corner, head on paws, dozing. The poisonous sting on its scorpion tail seemed to have been removed. On the other hand, the scitalis — a two-legged serpent with a pair of long horns on an elegant head — turned out to be so beautiful that one could not look away: its skin shone and shimmered in the sun with all the colours of the rainbow. And its eyes were huge and velvety, as if of a deer. And, apparently, it possessed some kind of hypnosis, so a special attendant drove away over-enchanted spectators from the cage. By the enclosure with the harpies, Tom finally noticed his Aola… His heart immediately began to hammer as if he had run a cross-country race. Leave? Pretend he hadn’t noticed? He couldn’t… Lady Meroving drew him like a magnet. Dragon’s milk… How beautiful she was. Tom took a shaky breath. A stubborn hyppotan he was… he could have been walking with her. But he had to show some character! Beside Aola hung another Hogwarts orphan, Hagrid, and although he was younger than Tom — he towered over the crowd by a good two heads. A half-breed with heavy heredity, a giantess mother, brr… Though Rubeus hid it, his height and appearance gave him away completely. As did his fondness for all kinds of strange pets, for that matter. Last year he had secretly brought a squid to school in a huge bottle, kept it on the windowsill, and fed it small fish caught in the lake. And then he let the pet out for a walk in the bay, and that was the end of it. The teenager wandered the shore for a long time afterward, trying to lure the squid back, but the squid was no fool; it reasoned sensibly that there was far more room and food in the lake than in a bottle, and did not return. And now Rubeus was staring with such adoration at the hideous, squawking half-birds that Tom thought with irritation — he’s probably already considering whether to get one instead of a post owl. The harpies were trying their hardest — brawling, fighting, and throwing apple cores at the visitors. And they stank… worse than the bonnacon. People tried to lead children away from there quickly. From the harpy enclosure, Aola and Hagrid moved to the unicorn paddock. And here the girl suddenly frowned and clenched her fists. And the lanky teenager leaned down and began to say something to her in a low voice. Naturally, it wouldn’t occur to Tom to be jealous of him — he was too snotty and ridiculous. But Aola was spending her time on him and whispering about something! Tom’s annoyance grew… though, however you looked at it, was this not again the consequence of his own decisions and actions? Moving closer, he heard a fragment of conversation. “I shall speak with the owner…” Aola said and gave the boy a friendly pat on the shoulder. Exactly what she would speak about, Tom did not understand. Scarcely casting a glance at the unicorn, the boy noticed that the animal’s pride and ornament — its twisted horn — was sawn off short. The sad white horse gazed at the visitors with moist, velvety eyes. They do not love captivity… it is written in all the books. Trying to keep himself from being noticed, Tom followed Aola and her companion. In the fairground bustle, this was not difficult. After the menagerie, Miss Meroving exchanged a few words with the onocentaur and entered one of the tents belonging to the circus people, accompanied by him. She returned quite soon, extremely upset and angry. Tom knew his beloved well enough to realize this. After whispering with Hagrid, they dived between the closely packed tents, hiding from prying eyes. Tom was now being torn apart by no small curiosity. What were they planning? Trying to make no noise, Riddle crept after them on tiptoe. Hiding behind a fold of a tent, Tom saw Miss Meroving pull out her wand, whisper something… and Hagrid vanished. A Disillusionment Charm?! And then Aola turned around and asked sharply: “Are you not tired of spying yet, Mr. Riddle?” *Hyppotan — a centaur with a donkey half-body; some are two-legged.