The Patronus of Tom Riddle

Tom’s days after the journey to the pyramid were filled with warmth, light, and endless happiness. Only one thing distressed him — now he knew exactly what he wanted and desired Aola with redoubled force, but she could not allow such things within the school walls, neither for him nor for herself. It was a pity… because the teenager’s wandering imagination drew scenarios that made him flush at the mere thought. He had always valued every minute alone with her outside of school as worth its weight in gold; now, they had become simply priceless. Time passed, and summer arrived. Exams were approaching, followed by the holidays for which they were already making joint plans. Aola wanted to introduce him to her father, and he no longer feared this meeting as he once had. Tom was under the care of the state; the orphanage director would only be glad to get the strange ward out of her sight, allowing him to stay for a couple of months at the Meroving estate. And in just another half-year, he would become an adult, and then… The whole world would be at their feet. Trouble, as usual, came unexpectedly. It was an ordinary June morning; students were eating breakfast, not forgetting to discuss routine school affairs — who had fallen in love with whom, who had prepared which cheat sheet for the upcoming exams, what dress to wear to the graduation ball. Tom was covertly making eyes at his beloved, hinting at the walk promised for the evening. Owls arrived, letters rustled, bringing their recipients pleasant and not-so-pleasant news. Snow-white Payam landed on the back of her chair and delivered a letter directly into her hands. Aola looked at the envelope and suddenly frowned. She opened it immediately, scanned the writing, and rose from her seat with an apology. Tom grew anxious — she had never left the dining hall like that before finishing her meal. Had something happened? Perhaps with her father? She had mentioned that milord was quite old. Dumbledore followed her out, and this worried Tom even more. After everything that had happened over the Black Lake, he regarded the Transfiguration professor with suspicion, even though Aola had assured him that Dumbledore had nothing to do with it. Could it concern the artifact she had brought to Hogwarts? He barely sat through the first period, ignoring everything the History of Magic teacher droned on about, and at the break, he rushed to her office. He knocked, received no answer, and entered anyway. The room was empty; hastily gathered papers and books lay in a box sitting lonely on the edge of the desk. His heart pounded — was she packing her things?! Where could she be?! At the Headmaster’s? In her bedroom? Tom barely suppressed rising panic and decided to check the Headmaster’s office first. However, Aola found him herself — she sent a note asking him to come to her in the Ravenclaw tower. Tom had never been to her bedroom before, and the first thing that struck his eyes, to his horror, were a trunk and a couple of suitcases already packed. They stood by the bed on the fluffy rug as silent witnesses to the impending separation. His heart constricted painfully — she was truly leaving! “Tommy, how good of you to come so quickly…” milady took his hands, looking into his eyes. Her own were full of sadness. “What happened, Aola?! Why are you leaving? Can I help you somehow?” Tom gripped her palms as if he expected to hold her in Hogwarts by force. “Something happened that requires my immediate presence on the continent. I cannot tell you more… forgive me.” “Is it for long?!” “I do not know yet, my dear. Likely yes. I do not want to give you false hope.” “But you will return?!” “I do not know… I undertook to fill in for your teacher while she was ill. Now, I believe Professor Galatea Merrythought will return to her duties.” This news literally stunned Tom… His beloved was leaving for good. Her place in the classroom would be taken by that wreck Merrythought. He would no longer be able to admire her elegant face and graceful figure every day, nor enjoy her company… farewell, sweet winged notes, walks, and kisses… it was a nightmare! How was he to live without her now?! Two bloody years! Tom did not notice when his eyes filled with moisture, and it spilled over, tracing two salty paths down his cheeks. He had no self-control. Tom Marvolo Riddle, the future Dark Lord, cried for the second and final time in his conscious life. “Do not leave me…” he sobbed, pressing her hands to his chest, to his racing heart. “I love you so much…” “Oh, come now, my dear!” she freed one palm and touched the damp trail on his cheek. “I am not abandoning you! Do not even dare to think so! I will write… I will visit you whenever time allows. Just finish your studies, pass your exams, and I will take you away. I hope I will have settled all the problems by then.” “Truly?” At that moment, Tom would have believed even the most ridiculous lie, and what milady said was quite plausible. “Of course… Here, take this as a pledge of my promise,” she hastily removed a chain with a medallion — it was a sun-wheel, the wheel of eternal life, one of the symbols of her ancient house — and placed it around his neck. “Let it protect you…” Her beautiful amber eyes filled with tears. Tom felt the piece of gold, warmed by her heat, slide down his uniform shirt. He had nothing to even give her as a keepsake… He embraced her impulsively, swallowing tears. She kissed him. That was how Gloria McGregor found them, entering the bedroom without knocking — kissing. She gasped and froze, not knowing whether to walk out and pretend she had noticed nothing or to be outraged. Tom was embarrassed and released the girl from his embrace, but immediately took her hand, making it clear that this was no mere fling but a serious relationship, even if not entirely approved by society. “Gloria, wait a minute outside the door; Mr. Riddle and I are having a private conversation,” milady did not even bat an eye, and the girl, who had already opened her mouth to lament, blushed and murmured, “Excuse me…” and slipped into the corridor. “Now there is definitely no turning back for you…” Tom exhaled. “To hell with it,” Aola waved it off and pressed her cheek to his chest. “Will you see me off?” Life at Hogwarts without milady turned into a dismal existence. Tom ate, slept, and went to classes like a somnambulist, on autopilot. Well, ate… he picked at his food with a spoon and greedily watched the birds flying into the windows — would Payam arrive? But the falcon was occupied with more important messages, and the first letter from her was brought by an ordinary Scops owl. Hello, my sweet boy. How are you feeling? Is everything well with you? Are you ready for your exams? Please forgive my long silence — I have fallen into a real whirlpool of events, and I have not managed to find a free, and more importantly, quiet moment to write a letter for a long time. Only, do not worry about me, please. Everything is fine. But for now, we must endure… If I manage to carve out time, I will certainly visit you this coming weekend. I will send a “dragonfly” by the Blue Stone. I do not want to be seen by Miss McGregor, so as not to cause you any trouble. I hope she is not giving you “soul-saving” lectures; it is quite unfair to face all that alone. I miss you very much, your company, our conversations and walks… I miss you so much, Tommy… I hope for a meeting soon. With love, your Aola. Encouraged by the promise of a meeting soon, Tom kissed the letter and cheered up. He passed his exams with “Outstanding,” which, in truth, no one doubted. Miss McGregor tried to start that “soul-saving” talk only once, but Mr. Riddle politely cut her off, stating that Lady Meroving was his fiancee and they intended to marry after he finished school, which sent the potential old maid into a complete stupor. She did not raise such topics again, and if she reported the information to the Headmaster, Aola’s departure reduced the possibility of a scandal within the school to zero, and the incident was closed. When the long-awaited “dragonfly” murmured that milady was waiting for him at the Blue Stone, Tom literally flew to the shore, almost a step away from coveted levitation. Seeing his beloved, he was stunned — instead of her usual beautiful dress, she was wearing a military uniform, and her magnificent curls were cut short. The new hairstyle suited her, of course, but the Merovingians were not called the “long-haired kings” for nothing. Neither the women nor the men of that house ever cut their hair; it was believed their special magical power was contained within it. After embracing her to their heart’s content, Tom did not fail to share this knowledge. “Oh, good heavens, those are just grandmother’s tales,” milady laughed, kissing him tenderly. “I feel no damage to my abilities.” “You went to the front after all?” Tom reproached, not understanding her drive to solve universal Muggle problems. Could not someone else, stronger and less charming, handle this dangerous business? “Do not scold me, Tom; your reproaches hurt so much,” she sighed. He did not want to hurt her. He was simply afraid for her. Tom had hoped his beloved would stay with him for the entire night, but when his caresses became too persistent, she gently pulled away and said it was time for her to go. She promised to stay for a couple of hours next time… kissed him tenderly and spread her magical wings. If only he could have known… And again there were letters, many pieces of paper soaked through with tenderness… There was a graduation ball without her. The holidays began, and the dismal orphanage met Tom without much joy. He was looking for work, no longer hoping he would spend this summer with his beloved. Then she went silent. Letters stopped coming, and after two weeks of oppressive, soul-tugging silence, he fell into such anxiety that he was ready to appear at her father’s estate in the most brazen way, without any warning. She had left him an image for Apparition, just in case. To the teenager trembling with anxiety, it seemed that “just in case” had arrived. The white falcon landed on the windowsill of his institutional room on the very morning Tom began to seriously prepare for the transition himself. “Payam!” he rejoiced at the bird as if it were a relative. But the bird cried out sharply, almost like a groan, flapped its wings, and dropped an envelope with a ducal seal onto the windowsill. Tom jumped for joy — at last, she had remembered him! He grabbed the envelope with trembling hands and opened it… A stranger’s handwriting. A stranger’s unfamiliar voice, deep and strong, belonging to a man accustomed to commanding others. Dear Mr. Riddle… It is with the deepest sorrow that I must inform you that my only daughter and your teacher, Lady Aola Meroving, perished a week ago while performing her duty to humanity in preserving peace on earth. Please forgive a grief-stricken father for not informing you of this mournful news sooner. My daughter regarded you with great tenderness, and… Perhaps there were other important words in the letter… but the lines were already swimming before the eyes of the stunned teenager, who had not yet fully grasped their merciless meaning. Aola was DEAD? How was that possible? Could eternal beauty and youth perish in the clutches of death? Tom rose from the narrow institutional cot on which he had been reading the letter. He staggered. He covered his face with his hands. The firemen arrived in time. The room that had burst into flames was extinguished. The teenager inside was not even burned; he had only inhaled carbon monoxide. He was sent to the Hospital of St. Phocas, a charitable hospital for the poor. Doctors predicted he would soon wake up and fully recover from the poisoning. But by evening, the lad began to rave and toss on the creaky metal bed, calling for some “lady.” The ward mate hobbled for the nurse. She held the handsome youth’s thermometer to her eyes and gasped — the glass tube showed a truly monstrous figure of forty-two degrees Celsius. She hastily uncovered him, wiped his still-childishly fragile body with alcohol, and hurried for the doctor on duty. The doctor, exhausted by a long shift, examined the patient again, scratched the bridge of his nose, and wrote on the medical chart — typhus. After all… an orphan. And what times were these? War. Who is surprised by typhus nowadays?