The Patronus of Tom Riddle

“Attention! Everyone, put on your helmets! Additional protection will not go amiss. He has spent a couple of thousand years in captivity, gathering strength; he will scatter your energy field in seconds, and then what?” Aola strictly scanned the group of senior students huddled behind a low earthen rampart on the edge of the wasteland between the school and the Forbidden Forest. This was an improvised training ground for lessons involving dragons and other dangerous creatures. “Miles, does this not concern you? Is your head made of stone?” Aola looked sternly at the disobedient boy. “Howard, step behind the fence immediately!” A white pith helmet sat upon her own head, making her face look even fresher and more charming. Instead of her usual exquisite gown, she was dressed today in a simple blouse and trousers. They were quite formal, yet for Tom, they were associated with her clothing from the pavilion, and this evoked the most pleasant thoughts. “How is a helmet supposed to help?” the teenager chuckled, turning a grimy green military helmet in his hands. “It is a genie, after all.” “An Ifrit,” she corrected him. “A combat genie. And he can bite your head off without any trouble. If it is bare, he will swallow it easily. But with a helmet… perhaps he might choke on it, allowing your comrades to gain some time.” The older boys laughed, bravado surging before the pretty teacher. The girls gasped in fear. The main part of the crowd was present at the range only as spectators; Aola had no intention of letting just anyone near such a dangerous being. She had selected only the most capable and quick-witted. Tom, of course, was among them. He smirked, watching Miles turn pale, hastily pull on his helmet, and duck behind his friends' backs. “Jokes aside, everyone… debris and shards may fly. We have no need for injuries,” milady continued, ushering the particularly curious behind the earthen wall. Then she turned to the chosen few and asked: “Ready? Shall we release him?” They nodded in unison. Aola extracted a silver pitcher, blackened with age, from a canvas bag. She admired the engraving. “Look at how skillful and delicate the workmanship is! And do you see what seals the neck? It is the Seal of King Solomon.” She even snapped her fingers in delight — as if to say, top-quality goods. Indeed… compared to this, the thousand-year history of Hogwarts and its founders was but a trifle. Tom, who until this moment had been confidently composed, suddenly felt a slight tremor of nerves. Aola picked up the pitcher by its ornate handle and carried it to the center of the range, into a circle traced with ancient protective runes. Placing it on the ground, she flicked her wand and recited a sharp phrase in Ancient Aramaic. The brown sealing wax began to run, melting, while the girl walked quickly back to the students and cast a protective dome, ordering everyone to sustain it. At first, nothing unusual happened with the pitcher. Then it began to tremble, rocking harder and harder until it fell on its side. A thin stream of smoke hissed out of the narrow neck, thickening and gaining strength. Soon, black billows were pouring out of the vessel; the pitcher rang and bounced as if a swarm of pixies were playing inside. The escaping matter twisted into a vortex-like cloud. A clap of thunder roared, and an ugly face emerged from the smoke: a bald, bumpy skull, pointed ears, bloodshot eyes, and a huge mouth adorned with crooked fangs. Large gold rings dangled from the creature’s nose and earlobes. All of this sat atop a powerful neck and an even more powerful torso, while a pair of enormous curved swords graced its pillar-like arms. Exhaling a long tongue of flame, the genie growled something incomprehensibly terrifying and scanned the field with bloodshot eyes, searching for an enemy. Tom swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. “Well, any volunteers?” Aola asked. And Tom saw that there were none. Not a single one. All the senior students who had been showing off and laughing carelessly just five minutes ago were now cowering and averting their eyes. The genie noticed movement behind the rampart and lunged forward. The girls shrieked. The protection flickered and broke. But the creature hit an invisible wall — the signs drawn on the ground held — and he began to circle like a spinning top within the sphere left for him, snarling and cursing terribly in Ancient Aramaic. “Concentration! Do not let fear take over your consciousness!” Aola was always dissatisfied that almost all her students were unable to perform several magical actions at once due to a lack of internal self-discipline. She claimed this was common practice in the East, but then, the worldview and pace of life there were quite different, were they not? Meanwhile, the genie sheathed his sabers… and began to build something, either a bridge or a palace, drawing matter for it from unknown sources. “Well? Any volunteers? He will finish the magical bridge and calmly leave the circle,” milady said, restoring the protective dome over the frightened flock of genie-tamers. “When we went over the theory, there were more than enough brave souls.” “I will!” Tom tilted his chin up. “I will try, Miss Meroving.” He threw a contemptuous glance at his classmates and moved resolutely toward the newly-minted mason. Milady followed him but stopped a few meters behind to provide backup if necessary. Was he afraid? Of course. Would he show it to anyone? Never. The genie, noticing the brave soul, froze with a huge stone block in one hand and a trowel in the other. Tom approached, feeling the heat radiating from the creature, mixed with a stench. It smelled, as expected, of sulfur and, for some reason, scorched wool. The spirit of fire growled and spat a tongue of flame that nearly singed Tom’s face. The genie could not leave the circle, but spitting fire was perfectly possible. Dropping everything in his hands, he pulled his sabers from their sheaths and aimed them at the human. Keeping his wand hidden in his sleeve, Tom bowed ceremoniously. Of course, he could have immediately used the ancient Eastern spells he had memorized, but he wanted to surprise milady. Truly surprise her. She loved it when magical puzzles were solved without the use of magic, did she not? The monster rumbled something over his head in a dead language. Tom bowed once more and spoke loudly but politely: “I beg your pardon, most kind genie, but I do not understand your speech!” The creature scratched its bald head and pursed its lips. It closed its eyes for a moment. Then it spoke in broken but quite understandable English: “Who are you, you little gnat?! And where is the great King Suleiman who imprisoned me in this cursed vessel?!” “I am a wizard’s apprentice, respected genie,” Tom answered honestly. “And King Solomon, alas, has long since departed this world.” The genie gnashed his teeth. “Do you even know whom you dare disturb?! Do you know that I am the leader of all genies, a warlord, and Iblis himself bows to me when we meet?! Your scribbles will not hold my wrath! I will step out of the circle, kill and eat you, and then your cowardly friends!” He cast a fierce glance toward the rampart and reached for the trowel again. Boaster… Iblis bows to him, right, Tom thought, but aloud he said: “Is there no reward for me for freeing you? It is ungrateful to kill your savior. Did you truly enjoy sitting in a pitcher? And this circle is merely a small precaution.” The genie squinted. He thought it over. “Fine, so be it, I shall spare your life. But them,” a gnarled dark finger pointed at the group of students paralyzed with fear, their helmeted heads peeking from behind the wall, “I shall eat.” Then he suddenly sniffed the air like a pointer dog scenting game, his huge nostrils flaring, and he smiled predatorily. “Peri! I scent the smell of a Peri! Her, perhaps, I shall not eat… It has been a long time since I have had a woman.” You son of a bitch! Tom struggled to restrain himself from blasting the wretch with a heavy spell right between the eyes. “What about the three wishes?” Riddle continued, outwardly calm, though he was boiling with rage inside. “Have you read too many fairy tales?!” the genie was indignant. “I am a COMBAT genie, not some pathetic trickster from the stories of that clever girl!” “Very well…” Tom sighed submissively. “I shall erase the signs myself and release you, but can you not fulfill at least one tiny wish? I am an apprentice to a great sorcerer and possess much knowledge. But one thing I cannot understand — how could a giant like you fit into such a ti-i-iny vessel? Could you not climb back in for just a moment?” The genie’s bloodshot eyes rounded. Then he threw back his head and roared with laughter, his rings jingling. Tongues of flame erupted from his mouth. He laughed so hard he even dropped the trowel. “You, little gnat, take me for a fool?! Indeed, you have read too many tales… I climb into the pitcher, and you — thwack! — plug it back up. No… look for fools elsewhere.” “To hell with you then…” Tom finally snapped, extracting his wand from his sleeve. His diplomatic ruses had failed — a first! Hissing a spell he knew by heart, he threw an orange bolt of lightning at the villain. The genie, who had not expected such a turn and was already celebrating his freedom and anticipating a hearty meal, shrieked in surprise and darted around his invisible prison, trying to hide behind the bridge support. This was not like falling into the hands of an uneducated fisherman… At first, he tried to deflect the magical attacks, but Tom lashed him with the “Scourge of Solomon” once, then again, and then treated him to the “Reins of Bilam ben-Beor,” until the genie whined, begging for mercy. “O, great sorcerer! Forgive me for not recognizing you in my blindness and stupidity!” he wheedled, poking his face from behind the stonework with the most piteous expression he could muster. “I sat in that stinking vessel so long that I forgot your formidable name!” “Tom Marvolo Riddle,” the teenager stated with no small amount of satisfaction. “Great Master Tom Marvolo Riddle, ask for anything you wish — I shall fulfill any three of your desires!” For a second, Tom almost succumbed to temptation… but Aola had clearly explained that genie gold was fake, they themselves were cheats, and one was more likely to suffer from their way of granting wishes than to get what was desired. “The Peri! The beautiful Peri standing there, whose scent tickles my nostrils with its sweetness… Do you want her to be yours?!” the spirit of fire exclaimed passionately, still hiding behind the wall. “Enemies! Do you want me to kill all your enemies and conquer this country for you?” “She is mine already,” Tom murmured to himself, then added louder: “Uninteresting. Get into the pitcher! And clean up this mess after yourself.” “Not the pitcher!” the creature wailed, and Riddle had to treat him to another portion of the royal lashes. Sobbing like an offended child, the genie scattered the unfinished bridge. Small stones sprayed in different directions, drumming like rain against the helmet milady had insisted on. The spirit began to spin, turning into a black whirlwind, rotating faster and faster and being sucked into the narrow neck. When the last wisp of smoke vanished inside, Tom gathered the melted wax, sealed the vessel, and turned to the others. The crowd erupted in applause. Milady was already walking toward him, smiling with unconcealed pride. “Congratulations, Mr. Riddle, you handled that magnificently!” She offered him her hand. The boy lightly squeezed her delicate fingers. He wanted to kiss her right now, in front of everyone… “The trick failed, alas,” he smiled. “He was a tough nut to crack. But your magic was simply flawless,” her amber eyes looked at her admirer with such an expression… “I think we should celebrate your success,” she added softly, for him alone. Then she pressed her ring with the ducal crown into the still-warm wax. There had been the seal of Solomon; now there was the seal of Meroving. *Iblis — A genie who, through his diligence, attained a position close to God and dwelt among the angels, but due to his pride was cast down from heaven and became an enemy of God and men.