#helga's locket

[shortaki-prompts]

✨Helga 's Arnold Locket Dividers✨

Hmu if you'd like to see any other colors (Tumblr has that 10 image limit per post so TuT)

[dreaming-of-epiphanies]

Hey queen pretty please more kindred spirits

𝓚𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓼 - part 3

PART 1

PART 2

Description: The mission to acquire Hufflepuff's cup quickly gets out of hand. Luckily (or unluckily, depending on how you look at it) dark!reader is just as reckless as Tom when it comes to the Horcrux hunt.

A/N: I had to crack open my trusty copy of Half-Blood Prince to write this one. There's a few lines of dialogue copied directly from the book to keep it canon so I don't claim credit for those (mainly when Hepzibah is talking- not to give too much away of course). I honestly have no idea what's going on in this fic. If it doesn't make any sense let me know and I'll rewrite lol. Other than that I'm excited you guys are enjoying this series and so there'll be more to come.

Warnings: dark!reader and dark elements

“Hellebore?”

“Too easily traceable.”

“Weedorsoros?”

“Far too well-known.”

“Death potion?”

Tom gave you a look. “Are you being serious?”

You couldn’t resist it. “Deadly,” you said solemnly, and Tom rolled his eyes. 

“I would appreciate it if you saved all of your jokes for after we have decided which poison to use?” Tom requested, lips in a thin line, but you couldn’t help cracking a smile. 

“Oh come on, this is fun!” You exclaimed, swinging your legs over the side of his bed to face him with a coy smile. “Besides, you walked right into that one.”

Tom sighed. “I suppose I did,” he muttered, though he shot you another look when you opened your mouth to tell another bad joke. “But please- time is running out for us on this. We must focus.” 

“Alright, alright, you have my full attention now,” you assured him, pulling your potions textbook back onto your lap. “Where was I… ah yes. Hemlock?

“No. It leaves too much of a distinct trace.” Tom shook his head, turning a page. 

“Hm. Venomous Tentacula juice?” 

“And where do you propose we get that?” Tom countered, not even glancing up from his book. 

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “They’re native to Scotland so it wouldn’t be too hard to find-” 

“Yes, but the process of extracting the juice can take up to weeks, and we don’t have weeks,” Tom interrupted, sounding exasperated. “In fact, we have precisely…” he rapped his wand smartly on the blank calendar nailed above his desk. Previously hidden scribbles and dates appeared in a deep red ink. “...five days, four hours, and twenty-four minutes until I will be knocking on the door to Hepzibah Smith’s house.” 

“And how many seconds, Tom?” You remarked wryly, and Tom glared at you. 

“If you keep antagonising me, I will not let you come with me,” he warned, and you immediately fell silent. 

“Alright, point taken,” you grumbled as you resumed scanning the ingredients in the textbook. 

In less than a week, Tom was going on a mission to collect the next item he wanted to make into a Horcrux: Helga Hufflepuff’s cup. After what felt like forever of searching, Tom had finally tracked it down into the possession of a Miss Hepzibah Smith, claimed descendant of Helga and a collector of magical antiques. Over the course of a few months, Tom had befriended her and now had semi-weekly teas with the little old witch. 

From what he had told you, he had casually brought up his interest in magical artefacts a couple of times and bonded with Hepzibah over that. Hepzibah had reacted adoringly, doting on him and his penchant for trinkets like her. Despite this, she had yet to invite him to see the cup, and Tom was growing antsy. 

He was still searching for Ravenclaw’s diadem, as well as Slytherin’s locket, so this potential Horcrux being so close in his reach yet just out of his grasp was driving both him and you mad. He had half a mind to just kill her the second the door closed and take the cup, but you had thankfully talked him down (only after he’d had to convince you not to kill her for him). 

Either way, Tom had decided this would be their final meeting before he directly introduced his interest in the cup. Telling her he knew about it would be risky, but waiting could bring about any number of additional dangers. She was quite old, and if she died before Tom had a chance to steal the cup, who knows where it would go? She had a number of relatives who all wanted it and Tom was well aware the difficulty of acquiring it would only increase if one of them got their hands on it. So he was adamant about the time frame, and was enlisting your help to find and brew a poisonous potion to slip in her drink. She’d have to die after he stole the cup anyways. You had been looking for suitable poison for a while, but every idea he either vetoed or hated, and you were losing your patience. 

“This is useless,” you finally said, slamming the potions textbook shut and reaching for Venenata Potio: An Advanced Potioneer’s Guide to Treacherous Brews. It had more toxic potions and potion ingredients listed than normal potions books and was strictly prohibited at Hogwarts. 

“It is not useless,” Tom said reproachfully. “We have to at least make it look like an accident.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” you sighed, cracking the large book open. It was dusty and smelled faintly of mothballs. 

“Keep looking,” Tom advised. “We’ll find something. Eventually.”

Eventually could be a long fucking time, you thought irritably, but simply nodded and began to read. There was an entire chapter dedicated to poisonous plants and creatures, though you suspected the authors wrote it to let people know what to stay away from, not to willingly seek out. 

“Water dragon parasite venom… found in the- oh no, I am not going in the sewers for that,” you muttered in disgust, listlessly flipping through the pages. “Antimony… its melting point is six hundred and thirty degrees Celsius?! I don’t know how in the name of Merlin we’d reach that…”

You continued on like this for the better part of an hour, finding a seemingly perfect poison only to be disappointed two seconds later when you read more details about it. 

“This is impossible,” you groaned, impatiently leafing through more pages. “Nothing in here would- wait a second.” You cut yourself off as you spotted a picture a few pages back that caught your eye. You flipped back to it and scanned the ingredients and brew time. It didn’t look too complicated, and it also had a footnote: Not commonly used. Nothing is known to reverse its effects once they begin.

“Have you found something?” Tom asked when he became aware you were curiously quiet. 

“I think so,” you said slowly, sliding off of the bed and walking over to him. He took the book from you, scanning one finger down the page about the poison. 

“Moonseed Poison,” he mused, intently reading the page.

“It saps the nutrients from the body and weakens essential processes like blood oxygen flow, heart strength, and even rational thought processes,” you read. “And look- ‘when consumed, this poison acts within thirty-six hours, with symptoms only appearing within the last seven minutes before death.’ So by the time anyone realised, she’d have one foot in the grave!”

“It will have been long enough since my visit with her that no one would track it back to me,” he murmured in agreement. “And all you need is powdered moonstone, moonseed, and honeywater. They’re not readily available at potions stores, but they should not be too difficult to find.”

“It doesn’t take long to make, either,” you pointed out, gesturing to the paragraph with brewing instructions. “An hour to combine the ingredients at most, plus three hours in the moonlight. We could be done with that ages before your tea time visit!”

“We could,” Tom nodded slowly, then shut the book with a snap and looked up at you, eyes gleaming. “Well,” he said, “I believe we’ve found our poison.” 

༺ ✧ ༻

The afternoon of Tom’s visit with Hepzibah came all too slowly. Once the potion had been made, you were both more than ready to poison her and steal the cup. 

The plan was for Tom to ensure the cup’s location in the house, throw Hepzibah off the scent, and slip the poison into her drink before he left. However, this was all contingent on whether or not she actually showed him the cup. If she didn’t, Tom would directly ask to see it, which would be far too compromising should she die and the cup disappear. 

Although it wasn’t a fairly complicated mission, lots of things could go wrong- the elf could see Tom attempt to poison Hepzibah, Hepzibah herself could grow suspicious of his questions… there were too many risks. So you were highly uncomfortable with being left behind. 

“Are you sure you won’t let me come with you?” You asked for the millionth time, but Tom shook his head, just as he had every other time you’d asked. 

“You have only accompanied me twice before. She does not know you as well as she knows me and may be less inclined to show me the cup if you are there,” he explained, buttoning up his suit jacket. He had discarded his usual flowy robes for a smart black suit. Said it made him look more professional. You thought it made him look like a businessman, which Tom was anything but. His other robes made him seem like the ruthless killer he was, and you much preferred them. 

“But she might want to show it off to someone else too, and-” you tried one last time, but another look from Tom silenced you. “Fine,” you sighed, stepping in front of him to fix his tie. He really was horrible at tying them on his own. “I just want this to go smoothly.”

“Trust me, it will,” Tom said, placing his hands over yours. “In less than two hours, I will be standing back here with the cup.” 

You nodded. “I know,” you agreed quietly. “I don’t doubt it.” 

“Good,” Tom said, squeezing your hands before stepping back and picking up a small, unassuming clear vial of silvery liquid. 

“Hurry up!” You encouraged. “You don’t want to be late.” 

“Of course,” he said immediately, waltzing to the door. Before stepping out, though, he turned back to look at you. “I will get this cup,” he added quietly, an almost wild glint in his eye, “no matter what.” He held your gaze for a second more, his eyes flashing red, before he whirled out of the room and Apparated away with a crack! 

You stared after him, your throat feeling strangely dry. You really didn’t doubt that he would get the cup, but… he sounded reckless. If he did anything to risk the mission and safely securing the cup… you anxiously clenched your robes in your fists. He couldn’t be rash. If he was too thoughtless, he could accidentally leave a mark of his magic behind and the murder would be traced back to him. 

No, you reminded yourself. He won’t do anything to risk the security of this mission. He won’t… But you remembered the gleam in his eye, and the telltale flash of red you saw. Slowly, your eyes swept over to the remaining bit of potion in the small cauldron. 

“Damn it,” you growled, grabbing your wand off his desk and charming the potion into sugar like he had, before stalking towards the door. He might kill you, but you couldn’t let him go in there alone. He needed your help. 

༺ ✧ ༻

Hepzibah Smith’s house stood in front of you, painted a ghastly shade of pink with obnoxious red trimmings on the roof and underneath the windows. From where you stood behind a rather large bush, you heard pleasantries exchanged between Tom and Hepzibah as he handed her a bouquet of pink roses. 

“You naughty boy, you shouldn’t have!” Hepzibah cried, clapping her hands together and pulling them from his hands greedily. It had been your suggestion to bring the pink flowers- Tom would’ve brought red, but from the colour of the house along with her robes, it was clear she preferred pink. 

You watched through the window as Tom sat down, politely accepting a small tea cake and listening to Hepzibah chatter on. You kept your eye on the small house elf Hokey, and as soon as she tottered off towards the back of the house, you slipped from behind the bushes and crept around the corner. There, Hokey was refilling the tea kettle with water from a pump next to Hepzibah’s flower bushes. As quietly as you could, you slunk up the steps and into the house. You had to make sure Tom caught a glimpse of you. If he did, he would be brought back to his senses and not do anything risky. He trusted you, but also knew that if you were here he had to be extra careful not to do anything to tip the old witch off. 

Your plan was to sneak towards the corner of the living room and poke your head in just far enough for Tom to see, but this was quickly thrown off course by the sound of small footsteps. You darted behind a large cabinet just in time to see Hokey wobble back inside, this time towards the kitchen. With the house elf wandering around, you needed to hurry up.

Once she had gone, you slowly started to creep towards the corner of the living room again. Before you got too far, something caught your eye in the glass cabinet and you quickly doubled back to look at it. Crammed among countless other little trinkets was a medium-sized, yellow leather box with the initials H.H. etched on a gold plate. 

The cup, you realised. The cup was right there. You threw a glance in the direction of the living room. Would it be uncalled for to just… snatch it? Even if Hepzibah didn’t show it to him today, she was dead either way. Perhaps you could just…

Then you noticed something else. 

It was a long, flat box with that same leather cover, though this time in green. And inscribed on the gold plate of it were two letters: S.S. 

Your stomach dropped and your heart started racing as you realised what it was. The locket. Slytherin’s locket. What were the chances they were both here, in Hepzibah’s possession? Two potential Horcruxes, right in front of your face. It was too good to resist. 

Without thinking, you lifted your hand to the cabinet handle only to freeze when you heard Hepzibah’s voice ring out clearly. 

“Hokey, where are you?” She called, giggling. “I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure… in fact, bring both, while you’re at it.”

Before you could move, Hokey appeared in the doorway of the dining room. Her eyes widened into dish saucers as she saw you, hand inches away from the cabinet and clearly not supposed to be in there. 

You didn’t hesitate. You just plucked your wand from your pocket, whispered “Obliviate!” and then dashed towards the kitchen before she could spot you. 

You ducked under the counter until you heard Hepzibah talking to Hokey and Tom. Only then did you slip back towards the living room just in time to see Hepzibah pluck Hufflepuff’s cup from Tom’s finger and place it back in the box. You held your breath as she closed the lid, half expecting to see a flash of bright green light, but it didn’t come. You suspected it had something to do with the other box Hepzibah was holding now. 

Tom lifted the necklace from the box, admiring it as it glinted in the late afternoon light. 

“Slytherin’s mark,” he observed, sliding his thumb lightly over the S engraved on the locket’s face. He was gazing almost reverently at the necklace, his eyes gleaming red. 

“That’s right!” Hepzibah exclaimed happily, oblivious to the depth of his admiration. “I had to pay an arm and a leg for it, but I couldn’t let it pass, not a real treasure like that…”

You heard Hokey trotting back towards the living room after replacing the cup’s box, and knew it was now or never. 

Slinking forward a step, you tilted your head around the corner of the room just enough for Tom to catch sight of you. His eyes, still the unnerving shade of red you’d come to be familiar with, flicked up at the movement, widened slightly, and immediately snapped back to Hepzibah as she gently extracted the locket from his hands. 

“So there you are, Tom, dear, and I hope you enjoyed that!” She said cheerfully, laying the locket back down in the box, only for her movements to waver a second later when she saw the red flash in his eyes. “Are you alright, dear?” She asked uncertainly. 

“Oh yes. Yes, I’m very well,” Tom assured her, though his eyes said differently. You held your breath as Hepzibah continued to look at him, her posture slightly rigid.

“I thought- but a trick of the light-” Hepzibah began worriedly, but your attention was immediately switched from the conversation to the presence you sensed approached you. 

Whirling around, you clamped your hand on the house elf’s mouth and yanked her around the corner. 

“Silencio!” You hissed, and Hokey stared up at you with wide eyes. You had all of ten seconds. Concentrating as hard as you could, you placed the tip of your wand to the elf’s forehead and withdrew a shimmering trail of silver substance. You flicked your wand a couple of times, enchanting the memories to be remembered differently before replacing them in her head. Memory magic was one of the hardest things to learn. It was how you’d managed to Obliviate her once before without completely erasing all of her memories. Speaking of…

“Obliviate!” You whispered, just in time to hear Hepzibah call for Hokey to lock the necklace back up with the cup. 

The small house elf tottered away and you hesitated for a second before casting one last spell on her. You weren’t sure if you’d need it, but it may come in handy.

You slipped towards the front of the house again and ducked behind the bush you had been hiding behind previously, letting out a sigh of relief. That had gone surprisingly well. You waited for another twenty or so minutes- just long enough to make sure Tom didn’t kill her on the spot- before Apparating away. Tom arrived shortly after you, walking into the room with an air of great confidence and pleasure. 

“That went spectacularly,” he announced, shrugging off his suit jacket and pulling off his tie. “Except for the part where you showed up.” He shot you a look.

“I thought that went pretty well too,” you countered. 

“I had it under control,” he argued.

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “You looked absolutely mad leaving. Your eyes were red and that is never a ‘I got it covered!’ look. More of a ‘I’m going to kill her the second the door closes’ look.” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. She’ll be dead within the next week.” 

“Thanks to me,” you said, and Tom glanced over at you as tossed his tie at his desk. 

“How did you escape Hokey’s notice?” He asked curiously. 

“Oh, I didn’t,” you said casually. “But I enchanted the elf’s memories so she’ll remember putting something wrong in Hepzibah’s drink.”

You expected Tom to agree that this was a brilliant move on your part, or even to show you just how much he appreciated that by throwing you on the bed and-

“What?!” 

“What?” Your eyes grew wide as he marched over to you immediately. 

“I- you- you didn’t plant the remainder of the poison?” He exclaimed, looking almost crazed. 

“What? No, I- you didn’t poison her yet?!” 

The two of you stared at each other, slack-jawed, and then leapt into action at the exact same time. 

“I can’t believe you would-”

“You told me you were going to poison her today-”

“Now we have the elf to worry about? Really, this is just-”

“The one time you could’ve hurried up and killed someone-”

This argument went on as Tom charmed his tie and cloak back on with a snap of his fingers and you both stalked towards the door, pausing your bickering long enough to Apparate and then resuming in heated, whispered voices as you snuck around the back of her house. 

“Tell me, how are you going to sneak in this time?” Tom asked angrily when you saw the back door was closed. You shot him a look and waltzed right up to it. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” He whisper-shouted. You flicked your wand and then stepped to the side as the door sprang open not even a minute later. Hokey popped out, scurrying down the steps towards the hot water pump. 

You bit back a grin at Tom’s distraught expression as you dashed up the steps and into the house. You’d been smart enough to cast Imperio on Hokey before escaping the house earlier, and it had turned out to be useful, just as you expected. 

One vial of poison next to the sugar bowl later and you were back outside the house, waiting long enough to remove the Imperius Curse from Hokey before Apparating back with Tom. 

“I cannot believe you!” He raged as soon as the world stopped spinning. “Do you know how inconvenient this was? And dangerous? And-”

“Don’t lecture me on danger, Riddle-”

“You didn’t let me finish.” He glared at you, before taking a deep breath, and fixing you with a long stare. “Do you know how absolutely perfect that was?”

“Perfect?”

“Mmhm. It was reckless, and dangerous, and completely stupid to do, and yet you pulled it off.” 

“We pulled it off,” you corrected, flopping back on the bed. “We’re in this Horcrux hunt together. Besides, who would’ve thought we’d get the cup and-”

“The locket,” he finished, looking undeniably excited.

“Two Horcruxes.” You agreed, sitting up, and couldn’t help but let out a little squeal and throw your arms around him. 

He hugged you back tightly, pulling away just enough to say seriously; “We will have to figure out who to kill to make the locket into a Horcrux,” he warned. “I will kill Hepzibah to make the cup one, but I have not decided on the locket yet.” 

You shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll find someone,” you assured him. “But for now, I think a celebration is in order…”

“Hmm, I agree…” Tom smirked, crawling on top of you and kissing you feverishly. You wrapped an arm around his neck and a leg around his waist before breaking apart. 

“Let’s go find someone to torture?” You asked breathlessly. Tom nodded and pressed another kiss to your lips before drawing back and summoning his wand back into his hand. 

“Precisely. We can brainstorm ideas of who to kill for the locket Horcrux,” he said diplomatically, pulling his regular black robes on. 

“Sounds like the perfect afternoon,” you smiled, reaching up to kiss him once more before he opened the door for you. 

“Although, I do find something ironic,” he said, offering you his arm. You took it and looked up at him curiously. 

“And what’s that?”

“You berated me for looking reckless before I left, only to break and enter Hepzibah’s house less than an hour later.”

You grinned. “Ah, we’re just similar in that way,” you shrugged. “One could almost say we’re kindred spirits.”

“If you ever use that phrase again, I’ll hex you.”

“Not murder? You’re growing soft, Riddle. Maybe we aren’t so alike after all.”

“Shut up. My wand is already in my hand if you must know.” 

“Ah, back to normal.” 

A/N (again): This is somewhat inspired by the scene in Seven Devils by @sunder-soul when Marina breaks into the Malfoy manor, unbeknownst to Lucius and Narcissa. I'm rereading it (hence why that scene was on my mind) and it's even better than I remember.

Taglist: @viperify @m-mally @chamolore

[maybesomemilo]

I have spent literal months trying to figure out where this quote comes from… I know it’s tomarry, pretty sure it’s time travel but other than that, nada.

“Horcrux, Tom.” Harry snaps, feeling suddenly agitated, feeling irritation rush through him as he pulls Tom’s ring—the Gaunt ring—free from his hand to hold it out.  “Just like this.  Just like your journal.  Just like the diadem.  Just like the locket, Helga’s cup, Nagini.  I was a horcrux.” Tom will not stop staring. “I was your horcrux.”  Harry feels sick.  “And for that, I had to die.”

help

[metalomagnetic]

When do you think Tom stopped referring himself as Tom Riddle and started using Voldemort in his internal monologue?

(i have been thinking about this for weeks and i am curious about your opinion:)

I think once he started traveling, leaving Britain behind and everyone who called him/knew him as Tom Riddle.

Tom's identify slowly slipped away from him as decades passed by with no one saying his name, and him only offering 'Voldemort' to whoever asked.

I also think that once he returned to Britain and got in contact with people that knew him as Tom, he must have been acutely aware of 'Tom' again, in some form or another, even if no one (except Dumbledore) addressed him as such. But he knew they knew and it must have provoked interesting self-reflection.

Tom Riddle is never far away from him, since even his chosen name still spells Tom Riddle, if only rearranged. Every time he says 'I am Lord Voldemort' he is saying 'Tom Marvolo Riddle' and it never fails to amuse me.

He is very possessive of everything that belongs to him, even his hated muggle name. I believe that if he wanted to completely leave that behind, he'd have choses a different name, as opposed to going through the pain of rearranging his old one until he found a suitable form that didn't sound too ridiculous.

Three of his Horcruxes are directly related to Tom Riddle: the diary, the Gaunt ring, the Slytherin locket. Then Helga's and Rowena's artefacts are also tied in with Hogwarts, with his Slytherin heritage that he experienced as Tom Riddle. Nagini also ties in with that. Even Harry, though unknown as a Horcrux to him, is a half-blood, chosen and marked by Voldemort BECAUSE he is a half-blood. Like Tom Riddle. Every time he thinks of his Horcruxes or of Harry (both subjects must often cross his mind) he has no choice but to link them to Tom.

When he returns from Albania, the first location to pop into his head as a hideout is the Riddle Manor, even if he could have made Peter bewitch some poor muggles anywhere else to leave their house and take over. Even if he knows Dumbledore knows of his name, and his father's name, and the Manor can be compromised because of it, he still goes to Riddle Manor to get stronger.

I don't think there is any way to separate Tom Riddle from Voldemort completely, and even he knows that. Yes, after the first twenty or so years of his life, he goes by Voldemort and the older he gets the more comfortable he becomes with it, because Tom Riddle is a school boy, a shop boy, and Lord Voldemort is a dark lord that has power, but I truly do not believe he ever let go of Tom Riddle, deep down.

So, in his internal monologue, I don't think Tom was ever truly silenced.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 14 - Choice

@jegulus-microfic March 14 Word count 665

Previous part First part

Because Regulus didn’t need to get Remus back to the pack, they found themselves with a bit of free time. When Evan offered for them to all stay over if they wanted, his father was apparently in Romania for Voldemort and wouldn’t be back until the following week. 

Sirius and Remus instantly took him up on his offer and barely had time to say goodnight before Sirius dragged Remus out of Evan’s room and into another bedroom.

Barty looked at the clock on Evan’s bedside table. 

“They do realise it’s only 5 o’clock, right?” 

“I don’t think they care.” Evan snorted. 

“Well, anyway, what information have you found?” Regulus asked, trying to steer the conversation away from what his brother might be doing in the other room. James saw the grimace that had crossed his face and slipped out to put a silencing charm on their room as yet again Sirius and Remus had neglected to do so. 

He slipped back into Evan’s room just as Evan began telling them what he’d discovered. 

“Thank you,” Regulus whispered as he slid his hand into James’s and squeezed gently. 

“So, I managed to find out where he went after he left Hogwarts. He went to work at Borgin and Burkes for a while and then completely disappeared.”

“We went to the shop and basically charmed the pants off old Borgin, and he told us something very interesting.” Barty took over.

“Riddle, by all accounts, was a model employee, but then one of their best customers was found dead, and her house elf blamed for it.” Regulus had opened his mouth to complain about that. House elves couldn’t hurt their masters. It was all a part of the magic’s that bound them. “Yes, Regulus, we are well aware of House elf rules. However, the same day she was supposed to have died, Riddle handed in his notice and disappeared off the face of the earth.”

“But, Burgin also mentioned to us just as we were leaving that a priceless artefact went missing at the same time, and he’s convinced that Riddle took it.” Barty was grinning now. 

“Go on, what was it.” James had taken a step towards Barty, completely drawn in by their story.

“Helga Hufflepuffs cup.” Barty finished with absolute glee in his eyes. “Slytherins locket and Hufflepuffs cup. I bet MV turned it into a Horcrux as well, and my money’s on he found something of Ravenclaws and Gryffindors as well.” 

“What’s MV?” Regulus asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to work it out. 

“Mouldy Voldy!” Barty cackled at them. The other boys ignored Barty and looked at each other excitedly. They might not know where the Horcruxs were, but at least now they had an idea of what they were looking for. 

“I wonder what Ravenclaw has,” James said. “Gryffindor had a sword, but Ravenclaws a mystery to me.” The others turned to James.

“A sword?” Regulus said. “How do you know that? Do you know where it is?” 

“He has it in his portrait. But it’s been lost for hundreds of years.” 

“Just like Slytherin’s portrait in our Common room. Perhaps Ravenclaw has whatever her thing is in the Ravenclaw Common room.” Regulus mused aloud. He had a choice to make now of which artefact they tracked down next. Pandora came floating in, coming to stand beside her brother. 

“Ravenclaw had a diadem.” She said breezily.

“Pandora, how is it that you always turn up just when we need you?” Evan sighed. It had been the same story his entire life.

“Because I’m smarter than you.” She smiled as she kissed his cheek. 

“Do you know where it is?” Regulus asked, watching Pandora closely. 

“You might want to talk to the grey lady.”

“The ghost?” James looked confused. “Why would we want to talk to her?”

“Because,” Pandora rolled her eyes as she stretched out her hand and patted Barty’s hair flat. “She’s Helena Ravenclaw. Rowen Ravenclaw daughter.” Four mouths dropped open.  

Next part

[riverxsong-ao3]

The Betrayal (And Boon) of One's Own Biology

(Written as part of a Tom's Birthday fest for @yumeurl )

Tom was a Beta.

He knew this had to be true, because here he was in his seventies, and despite the fact that he didn’t look a day over twenty-five, he had yet to present as either an Alpha or Omega. It frustrated him, knowing that his secondary gender was so common, so bland. He had been so sure in his teens that he was destined to be an Alpha, to be something special, a symbol of power. But when his teen years left him behind he started to worry. There was still time, but when the years passed and he felt no physical changes, he knew his fate was sealed. Then he hit twenty-five, stopped aging thanks to his Horcruxes keeping him from anything that might kill him, and fell into a slump.

What was the point of it all if he wasn’t special? What was the point of his Knights, of his immortality? Of all his plans and schemes and tricks? What was the point of Voldemort? With this thought, the one that kept coming up, he quietly and unofficially disbanded the Knights of Walpurgis by scheduling their meetings more and more infrequently, until they weren’t really meeting at all. He settled in to the idea of an eternity of mediocrity, and though it stung, he worked diligently at his job at Borgin and Burkes, managed to nick a cup belonging to Helga Hufflepuff and, more importantly, the locket that was his heritage from an old, lecherous lady. He thought occasionally about leaving the country after this, but he had rent to pay and still needed to eat, despite that starvation could not kill him. So he worked, and he ate, and he slept, until one day he was informed that the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor was open once more.

So he bundled himself up and travelled to the castle, met with Dippet, and walked out a few hours later with a new job. Dippet, who’d denied him before, was more than happy to hire a man nearing his thirties, and no less a man who had gotten perfect N.E.W.T.s.

And so now here he was, at the end of the twentieth century, tenured in his position as Defense Professor, working under Dumbledore of all people, and he had very little to show for his original plans. It was at least something to know that he was influencing the next generation, identifying those students who showed an affinity for the Dark Arts and encouraging them to explore their talents.

But still. He was a Beta. A nobody.

He shook the thoughts away, the thoughts that all too regularly plagued him. He had time. He had, quite literally, all the time in the world. It was simply a matter of waiting and watching for the right opportunity. Dumbledore was aging, and the years were catching up with him. He would leave his post soon, and Tom would prop himself up as the ideal candidate to take the Headmaster’s seat. Or he would take the Ministry in a coup; word on the streets was that civil unrest was beginning to crop up in the wake of new laws being passed to elevate Muggle-born witches and wizards, thereby unsettling the careful balance of power that currently existed. Tom would bide his time and take advantage of this.

For now, though, he was grading papers.

[rachelfoleyisntdead]

Okay, yeah, I think it could be a thing, and here's why:

They are both unfalteringly loyal, they take ride or die seriously. Reiko asks 0 questions when Shao says he wants to be Emperor, and Li Mei is still loyal after her demotion and how they treat her like shit.

They respect each other. They are straight with each other. They are SO direct with each other, I love it.

They function in similar positions; he's the general's second in command, and she's the former head of the Umgadi. They probably spent a lot of time together, as the Emperor's personal guard and the general's second.

They work really well as mirrors/narrative foils/rivals.

Reiko expresses how skilled Li Mei is and that she's wasted on the constabulary... a lot. (I agree.) She acknowledges that these are compliments. This is probably the only way Reiko knows how to compliment someone: in a direct, albeit a bit patronizing, way.

I really like the idea of Reiko being frustrated that 1) the one woman who is as loyal and skilled as he is, he cannot have and 2) that her loyalty is rewarded with constant disrespect.

Also. She burns the fuck out of him. "The general wants you dead" "then why did he send YOU???" someone call Bi-Han, we need ice for that burn!!! Please, she is having none of his nonsense. I think it's great.

Pondering if Li Mei x Reiko could be a thing. Am I way off base or is this something?

[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Horcruxes as Seven Deadly Sins

This has been jabbing at my brain for a while, I need to get it out. Idk if someone has already done this.

This will only mention Christian, because I don't think I have enough knowledge about Greek, Roman or any other interpretation of the seven deadly sins.

So, Tom Riddle created seven horcruxes. (actually eight)

It is no secret that Tom Riddle was obsessed with power, because he never had anything of value and thought power was the remedy for his misfortune and a very depressing life. Splitting one's soul is already a sin itself because it's done by murdering someone. Tom Riddle Jr. (I think it's hilarious to call him that so what) created seven of them during various stages of his life. Without further ado, let's review his misdeeds chronologically.

The Diary

The first horcrux he created was by murdering Myrtle, an innocent Muggleborn Ravenclaw student. The basilisk did Tom's bidding. The diary becoming a horcrux is very interesing considering the timeline. He was in fifth or sixth year. By that time he figured out he was the descendant of Salazar Slytherin, but he did not yet know of the tragedy that brought him to life. He thought he was doing noble work by getting rid of the muggleborns and finishing what Salazar intended from the start. Years later, diary Tom talks to Harry about abandoning his filthy muggle father's name, but had Tom already visited his uncle by that time and found out about his parents? Or did Tom murder Myrtle earlier and then was told about his heritage as a diary by the actual corporal Tom? Because when he visited his uncle and found out his father was a muggle, he knocked his uncle out, went to the Riddle manor and killed his father and his grandparents. And stole the Gaunt family ring, which would also become a horcrux. Officially, the diary is considered the first horcrux, so we'll follow that. I will assign the diary the sin of wrath. Tom was angry at his muggle father, weak mother, deranged relatives who destroyed an ancient house and his childhood. However, he still holds his heritage in somewhat of a high regard because, frankly, what else he has left. He took out his wrath on regular bystanders who had no effect on his life. Teenage boy bottles his anger in his diary and holds petty grudges.

Marvolo Gaunt's Ring

Created after Tom spoke to Slughorn about splitting a soul in more than two pieces. A gaudy ring, not even a famous artifact, the last family heirloom of Gaunts. Even though his mother's side of the family was no less pathetic than his father's, Tom did not forsake it completely. He still hid his connection to them, but at least they provided him with the gift of parseltongue and magical talent. I think he was silently...grateful, for the lack of a better term. He felt no sympathy towards his mother even before he found out who she was, but he was grateful for her the way you can be grateful for someone who brought you to this world and gave you gift of magic and did nothing else for you. The ring represents the sin of pride because Tom was not honoring his family, he clung to his terrible ancestry. The word pride is not used as a bad thing in the modern context as much. You can be proud of something. That's not a bad thing, right? Well, in this case, it is. Tom was not ashamed of the things Gaunts did, he was ashamed how they ended up. If he was met with Gaunts who looked and lived like Malfoys but where ten times worse, he wouldn't hide his connection to them and would display his pride. Why else would he keep the ring if he didn't plan to use it. Sentimental reasons.

Salazar Slytherin's Locket

Envy. Tom tracked down the current owner of the locket, killed her and stole it from her. He was envious in a way of Hepzibah Smith, who lived luxuriously, was in touch of her pureblood ancestry, a descendant of Helga Hufflepuff. Meanwhile, Tom, who, in his opinion, should've been born with the same privileges, had to scramble for scraps his whole life and smile politely at others and be of service, instead of the other way around. A prince mistaken for a beggar, forced to live his life, found the crown jewel of his. And some old lady displayed it like it was her own. Technically, it was.

Rowena Ravenclaw's Diadem

Now, what business did Tommy have messing around with other founders' sacred artifacts? He had acquired "his own" ones. He could stop at three horcruxes. Surely, there were risks, consequences of such extreme magic, just take the locket and leave the cup, don't even bother with the lost diadem...Greed. He sniffed around and inquired about it while he was still in Hogwarts, charmed the Grey Lady Helena Ravenclaw to find out its whereabouts and went to bloody Albania to get it.

Why shouldn't Tom take the diadem and the cup as well? Why shouldn't he take other heirlooms and make it his? He's the greatest wizard of all time in the making. What can possibly rival his power? You get the point.

Helga Hufflepuff's Cup

Gluttony. Are we even surprised at this point? He went through all that trouble to get other items, the cup was literally lying right there next to the locket at Hepzibah Smith's house. I'm getting tired, I'm sorry.

Nagini

Sloth. The snake was already unnaturally loyal to him, he was actually acting affectionate towards it. Making a horcrux out of a living being was an unheard concept, but he'd done much weirder things already. The parselmouth and a snake, very original. His easiest and laziest horcrux, one more testament to his power and "pure" blood.

Harry Potter

Lust. Harry was a horcrux he never meant to create. On a fateful night when Voldemort nearly died of his own spell (the first time around), a small piece of his soul attached itself to the only living thing it could find, a baby. All of it, really, began with lust. An ambition gone bitter. Lust for power, immortality, desire to be remembered and stand out. Driven to insanity, orchestrated his own downfall. The lust for power, the only thing he could approximate with love.

[beirarowling]

J.K. Rowling's blatant transphobia cannot be dismissed in her portrayal of Salazar Slytherin as a transwoman. This is confirmed by Salazar's construction of the Chamber of Secrets. It represents what she most desires to own: a vagina. J.K. Rowling mistakenly believes that men cannot possess a vagina nor can women possess a penis. The basilisk, which penetrates the chamber, represents a penis. We also know this because it impregnates the sword of Gryffindor with basilisk venom. (The sword is another phallic figure, which suggests proof that men CAN get pregnant, yet J.K. Rowling is unwilling to have this conversation.)

Salazar Slytherin detests the cup of Helga Hufflepuff; for it represents the sacred chalice: the womb of a CIS woman. She instructs Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter, Helena, also a CIS woman, to steal her mother's diadem and bring it to her, for it represents the wisdom that J.K. Rowling believes only CIS women can grasp. These items are mockeries to Salazar, including the sword of Gryffindor, the sacred blade that represents what she longs to be free of (the sword could also be a tool to remove what prevents her from happiness.)

J.K. Rowling gave Salazar Slytherin a feminine item to own: a locket. This is further proof that Salazar Slytherin is a transwoman. The locket is also shown to attempt to strangle Harry Potter, portrayed by Daniel Radcliffe, who is a champion of trans rights. This is validation that J.K. Rowling views transwomen and trans rights activists as the biggest threats to humankind and that they should be eradicated.

If you are still clinging to these books or supporting this woman in any way (including thinking of your happy memories before she came out as a bigot) you are willingly participating in Nazism, sexism, racism, homophobia, and most importantly: transphobia. Do not give J.K. Rowling your support!

[tomionefinds]

Hello! I was wondering if you could find this fic based on my vague memory of it 😅

I remember it was about Hermione periodically visiting Tom throughout his life. I believe she eventually becomes his sort of sponsor, posing as a descendent of Helga Hufflepuff(?) and as repayment she only asked for his company (Tom thinking it involved sexual favours) and eventually gifting him the locket of Salazar Slytherin.

Even if you can’t find it, thank you for your time!! 🫶🏻

Hello anon 💕 you got us stumped with this one though I have a rec that might be it 🤔 ~ April Rose

Your Secret to Collect by Tempest E. Dashon

M | Completed | 168k

Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr was not someone that anyone wanted to get close to or trust. He was known for being cold and ruthless and unyielding. That is until he meets one untamed and unafraid witch who enjoys watching his temper as she says anything she likes to him. Savior or Destroyer...he was not sure but he was determined to find out.

[ennysue]

Bullying Jimmy Pesto Sr, only to dodge into an alley and bring out a locket with a poor quality picture of him and recite Helga Pataki-esque prose of lust and longing only to be startled by Little King Trash Mouth. We lock eyes and the he scurries away…

“He’s gonna fucking tell Linda!!!”

[aracelighda]

Shortaki Week Day/Día 3: Hey Roleplaying!

The 3rd day..., did someone say roleplaying? The next day Helga went to Arnold's house to hang out for a while, she was just getting used to his company, then Arnold had an idea to play some games to have fun, they went To the shed that Helga already knew since the last time she rescued her Locket, Masks, costumes and other things were found, Helga saw a Catwoman mask Which reminded her of the time they saved the neighborhood and Arnold was so in awe of Agent Bridget Let's say Helga was a little jealous of her calling her that way, so she surprised Arnold with a Batman mask Telling her that he was missing his catwoman and that he had her right in front of him

Footballhead? Is this a roleplaying situation?!

🐈‍⬛🦇🎀🏈🤭

[giiuliartt]

#thepatakisweek day 2 (I’m late whoopsie) - word prompt: Closet 🍬🚪

One of the things that always bugged me when watching Hey Arnold! was one of Helga’s main… “romantic” outlets, one of the few objects she could proclaim her secret love: the famous(and kinda creepy) ”Arnold gumhead”

As shown in “The Patakis” mini-Bible spin off, Helga would have gotten a scholarship at a very prestigious school due her creative art projects, that being photography, creative writing pieces and so on, as much as I’m thankful she got a ~healthier~ way to let her emotions out, I’d love to see what happened to her “Arnold collection” on #thepatakis .

In this piece, I imagined Helga deciding to throw everything “embarrassing” or “Arnold-related” away before emerging herself into writing her application letter (And therefore a “new Helga”) everything but- the Gum-Arnold and Her beloved locket (next fanart will be about so said locket!).

For young Helga, that closet was her safe heaven, from her family, from school, from the facade she created for herself, from everything. There, she could finally let go and be herself, before her final act, she locks herself once again in her closet and writes precisely the piece that settled the deal for her scholarship. Giving a proper beginning for Helga’s journey exploring her feelings more openly, while simultaneously a proper ending to young Helga’s dedication to her first love.

This is the my first piece for the #thepatakisweek , if you have no ideia what I’m taking about: hi! Did you know Helga almost had her own TV show? No? Then please watch the video at the end of this post (swipe right) with more details over #operationthepatakis 🎀@opthepatakis

[laylaylamode]

Do you have any Headcanons for The Callyieverse First Gen (aka parents to the next gens)?

Oooh good idea. 👀

Helga raised her kids to be independent but is secretly really protective of them. When they were in elementary school she'd go spy on them at recess while wearing a trench coat and a hat. They knew it was her but pretended not to see her out of embarrassment.

Arnold is pretty supportive of his kids' interest no matter how bizarre. He helped build Franny's green house and took her to out of city concerts even if he wasn't really into the music genre. For Mach he'd sit through hour long seminars and go to various bookstores hosting author visits.

Ching is superstitious and is very careful so that she doesn't affect Jia's future. For a long time Jia's bedroom didn't have a mirror because Ching feared that her soul would be trapped inside of it. Nor did she let Jia wear anything black or stand by doors facing North.

Abyo raised his daughters with the mindset of "if they never become a wife, they can be their own husband", and made sure that they were independent. Traditional parents would be upset if their daughters never married, but Abyo would be perfectly fine if his daughters wanted to live with him and Ching forever.

Ring Ring was very attentive whenever Dai Tai was ill. She'd cancel all her plans for the day and tend to her for however long it took to make her better. Sometimes Dai Tai would pretend to be sick just to experience Ring Ring's nurturing side.

The Ashley's all planned their pregnancies so that they would give birth around the exact same time. It was a very odd process but they convinced their husbands to go along with it. They also wanted their daughters' to be born in March so that their zodiac signs would be Pisces.

Rohnen (Edith's dad) likes taking pictures and is interested in photography. He owns a few Polaroid cameras and countless photo albums. Many of them feature Edith at various ages, which came from a mild fear that one day she might leave like her mother did.

Shannon (Edith's mother) doesn't like that Edith inherited her father's red hair, but she cut off a piece of it and keeps it in the locket that she always wears. It acts as a good luck charm and wards away bad luck.

[r3gulus-a-black]

Tom Riddle’s Diary

The Locket of Salazar Slytherin

Marvolo Gaunt’s Ring

Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup

The Diadem or Rowena Ravenclaw

uh what does this mean?

[coolbeans32]

Echoes of Destiny: The Serpent and the Phoenix

PAIRING: Tom Riddle x F!Reader (OC)

SYNOPSIS: Back at Grimmauld, tensions rise with the presence of a Horcrux, as Harry, Hermione, and Genevieve figure out the rest of the objects that Tom turned into vessels of his soul. Ron, feeling the rouse of the darkness of the Slytherin locket, starts an argument leading toward a scuffle between him and his best mate. Ron leaves to head back home, leaving Hermione and Harry devastated. Genevieve comforts the two as she figures out the next location to search for a Horcrux and goes on a mission to enter Bellatrix Black's vault to successfully find and retrieve Helga Hufflepuff's Cup.

WARNINGS: This chapter contains scenes of dark magical objects, arguments, scuffles between friends, trauma, loss, guilt, and the use of an Unforgivable curse (Imperius Curse).

WORD COUNT: 5.6k

Previous Part| Next Part

Chapter Eleven

Hufflepuff's Cup

Back at the library, Genevieve had placed the locket in a safe place, knowing how dangerous and dark the object was. Now the trio and Genevieve were investigating the next set of horcruxes they needed to find. It was obvious that the Diary and Locket were the first two, and Genevieve had suspicions of Tom’s ring to be another horcrux due to his connection with them. The other four were going to be the mystery to solve.

"We need to think like Tom," Genevieve murmured, her eyes scanning the pages of an old grimoire. "He wouldn't choose just any object for his Horcruxes. They must hold significance to him. Aside from his lineage, I know Hogwarts is very important to him.”

Harry, his mind racing, asked, "But what kind of objects would he choose to represent Hogwarts? It’s not like there is much aside from the castle."

Hermione's eyes lit up as she rifled through a stack of books. "Wait, the Founders of Hogwarts…They each had treasured possessions, didn't they?"

Genevieve's gaze sharpened as she considered Hermione's words. "Yes, you're right. Salazar Slytherin's locket was already one of them, and represented Tom and his family. Aren’t there others as well?"

Hermione reached for a large tome titled "A History of Hogwarts" and began flipping through its pages. "According to this, Godric Gryffindor had a sword, which Harry fought the Basilisk with, Helga Hufflepuff possessed a cup, and Rowena Ravenclaw always wore a diadem."

Harry's eyes widened with realization. "So, aside from Slytherin's locket, the other trinkets most likely became Horcruxes."

Genevieve nodded in agreement. "Exactly. And given that Gryffindor's sword only presents itself to someone with courage and in need of the sword, it's unlikely to be a Horcrux. That leaves us with Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem."

Hermione's fingers traced the words on the page as she read aloud, "Helga Hufflepuff's cup was a treasured artifact passed down through generations of her descendants. And Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem was said to enhance the wisdom of its wearer."

Genevieve's eyes gleamed with determination. "Then those must be our next targets. We need to find Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem before Voldemort does."

Harry clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "Agreed. We'll search every corner of the wizarding world if we have to. We can't let Voldemort succeed. Then the three heard something and in an instant, saw the lights go out, making the three jump only for Ron to come with the Deluminator.

"One problem, we don’t know where the trinkets are." Ron said and he put the lights back on. "Yeah, I'm still here. But you three carry on. Don't let me spoil the fun." Ron told them and Harry gritted his teeth. Genevieve took a step back to observe what was going to happen and noticed that he had the locket around his neck. She asked herself, How the hell did he get it? I locked it in the desk drawer.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked him.

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong. Not according to you, anyway." Ron told him.

"Look, if you've got something to say, don't be shy. Spit it out." Harry  said to him, irritated.

"Alright, I'll spit it out. But don't expect me to be grateful just because there's another damn thing we've gotta find." Ron said and Harry narrowed his eyes at him.

"I thought you knew what you signed up for, Ron." 

"Yeah. I thought I did too." Ron told them. 

"Well then Ron, I'm sorry but I don't quite understand what you're trying to say to me." Harry exclaimed sarcastically to him. "What part of this isn't living up to your expectations? Did you think we were gonna be staying in a five star hotel? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Thought you'd be back with your mum by Christmas?"

"I just thought, after all this time we would've achieved something. I thought you knew what you were doing." Ron mouthed to Harry, and Hermione exchanged looks to Genevieve with worry. "I thought Dumbledore told you something worthwhile. I thought you had a plan."

"I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in case you haven't noticed we found a Horcrux already." Harry told him with anger.

"Yeah, and we're as close to getting rid of it as we are finding the rest of them." Ron retorted back to me.

Genevieve went towards Ron. "Ron. take the Horcrux off. You have no idea what you’re saying. Just give it to me.” She said with her hand stretched toward him. 

"Do you know why I listen to that radio? To make sure I don't hear my mum’s name, or my dad’s or Fred or George or Ginny." Ron said frustrated.

"What, you don't think I'm not listening? You think I don't know how it feels?!" Harry shouted at him in frustration.

"No, you don't know how it feels! Your parents are dead! You have no family!" Ron shouted at Harry, like a slap to a face. He felt extremely angry and dived and started hitting Ron. A brawl had started. Genevieve rolled her eyes at the immaturity of the two boys. Merlin help me if I have to deal with this shit all over again, she thought of as she recalled how Tom and Malfoy would do the exact same thing back in her time. 

"Stop. Stop!" Hermione shouted at them.

"Fine, then go!" Harry shouted at him with anger. "Go, then!" 

"Fine." Ron said and took off the locket as he grabbed his bag and scowled at Hermione and Harry.

"Ron." Hermione said to him.

"And you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Are you coming or are you staying?"Hermione just stood still, conflicted.

 "Fine I get it. I’ve seen the both of you recently.” Ron jabbed.

"It's not like that." Hermione  said to him. "Ron you're angry and I get it but you have to calm down." Hermione said but Ron walked out, and Hermione moved to reach him. Hermione ran out for him when they heard a WHOOSH. Ron was gone.

In the quiet solitude of Grimmauld Place, Genevieve found Hermione sitting alone in the dimly lit library, her eyes red-rimmed from tears and her expression drawn with sadness. The tension in the air was palpable, a lingering reminder of the argument that had just unfolded between Ron and Harry.

Approaching her with a gentle smile, Genevieve took a seat beside Hermione and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey there, Hermione. Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice laced with concern. Hermione let out a shaky breath, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "I don't know, Genevieve. Everything just feels so... complicated right now," she admitted, her voice trembling with emotion.

Genevieve nodded in understanding, her gaze warm and empathetic. "I know, Hermione. It's been a rough day," she replied, her tone soothing. "But you're not alone. We're all here for you, no matter what." Hermione offered a weak smile, grateful for Genevieve's comforting presence. "Thanks, Genevieve. It just... hurts, you know? Seeing Ron and Harry fight like that. I hate seeing them at odds with each other."

Genevieve squeezed Hermione's shoulder gently, her expression filled with compassion. "I understand, Hermione. It's never easy when the people we care about are at odds with each other," she said softly. "But remember, Ron and Harry have been through so much together. They'll work things out eventually."

Hermione nodded, her features softening as she took comfort in Genevieve's words. "You're right, Genevieve. I just...I just wish Ron wouldn’t have left like that," she admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. Genevieve smiled reassuringly, her eyes shining with understanding. "Horcruxes tend to do that. They’re vessels of the darkest parts of one soul. And in the meantime, if you ever need someone to talk to or just a shoulder to lean on, I'll be right here," she promised, her voice filled with sincerity.

Hermione's smile grew more genuine, a glimmer of hope returning to her eyes. "Thank you, Genevieve. I really appreciate it," she said, her voice soft with gratitude. With a comforting squeeze of Hermione's shoulder, Genevieve offered her friend a reassuring smile. "Anytime, Hermione. We're in this together, remember?" she said, her voice warm and supportive. As they sat together in the quiet of the library, Hermione found solace in Genevieve’s company, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment. And amidst the turmoil and uncertainty, she knew that Genevieve was someone who she could count on to unbear the weight she’s carried all along. 

The darkness of the night cloaked in an eerie stillness as Genevieve made her way through the dimly lit corridors. The weight of the day's events hung heavy on her shoulders, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her insides. As she wandered the ancient halls, her thoughts turned to Harry, wondering how he was coping with everything that had transpired. Turning a corner, Genevieve spotted a faint light emanating from the Black Tapestry room. Curiosity piqued, she pushed open the door and stepped inside, her gaze falling upon Harry pacing back and forth, his expression clouded with frustration and sadness.

"Harry?" Genevieve called out softly, her voice breaking the silence of the room.

Startled, Harry turned to face her, his eyes tired and weary. "Genevieve," he said, his voice heavy with emotion. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Genevieve replied, her tone gentle as she approached him. "I couldn't sleep. And it seems like you're having trouble too."

Harry let out a weary sigh, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "It's Ron," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Our fight earlier, and I just can't shake this feeling of guilt."

Genevieve placed a comforting hand on Harry's arm, her eyes filled with empathy. "Harry, it's not your fault," she said firmly, her voice laced with conviction. "Remember what I said about the Horcrux? It has a way of magnifying our darkest thoughts and emotions. Your fight with Ron was a result of that influence."

Harry nodded, but the guilt still lingered in his eyes. "I know, but... it's hard not to blame myself," he admitted, his voice wavering with emotion. "Especially after everything that's happened."

Genevieve took a step closer to Harry, her expression softening with compassion. "I understand, Harry. But you have to remember that you're not alone in this. We're all here for you, no matter what," she said earnestly, her voice filled with sincerity.

Harry looked at Genevieve, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I miss him, Genevieve," he confessed, his voice cracking with emotion. "I miss Sirius so much. And every time I think about what happened... it just hurts."

Genevieve pulled Harry into a comforting embrace, holding him close as he let out a choked sob. "I know, Harry. I know," she murmured softly, her voice a soothing presence in the darkness. "But you have to remember that it wasn't your fault. You did everything you could to save him."

Harry clung to Genevieve, his shoulders trembling with emotion. "But it wasn't enough," he whispered hoarsely, his voice thick with tears. "I failed him."

Genevieve shook her head, her heart aching for his pain. "No, Harry. You didn't fail him. You fought for him with every ounce of your being," she said firmly, her voice unwavering. "And even though he's gone, his memory lives on in you. You carry his legacy with you, always." Harry buried his face in Genevieve's shoulder, seeking solace in her comforting embrace. For a moment, they stood together in the darkness, finding strength in each other's presence. And as the weight of Harry's grief began to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope. 

She says softly, “It's late. You should get some rest.”

Harry said, “I know, but I can't seem to quiet my mind.”

“I understand, but pacing around won't solve anything. Sometimes, you just need to let go of your worries and trust that things will be better in the morning.”

“Easier said than done.”

“I know, but you need to take care of yourself. You've been through so much already. You deserve some peace.”

“I just can't shake this feeling of uneasiness.”

“I get it. But worrying won't change anything. Right now, what you need most is rest. Trust me, things always look better after a good night's sleep.”

“Okay, you win. I'll try to get some sleep.”

“That's the spirit. I'll be right here if you need anything. Goodnight, Harry.”

“Goodnight, Genevieve.” Harry says as he yawns. He moves to head back to sleep, leaving Genevieve standing in the room with her own racing thoughts.

As Genevieve stood before the Black Tapestry, her gaze fixed upon the intricate threads that wove together the history of the ancient family, her mind was a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The dreams haunted her still, vivid and unsettling. Two children, innocent and full of life, torn away from her grasp in a cruel twist of fate. 

And then there was Tom. His anguished outcry, his desperate plea for her return, echoed in her mind like a haunting refrain. The memory of his pain cut deep, a sharp reminder of the bond they once shared, before everything fell apart. But amidst the sorrow and the uncertainty, there was a flicker of determination burning within her. She refused to let despair consume her, refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to engulf her.

For she knew that she had a purpose, a mission that transcended her own pain. She would bring Tom back, no matter the cost. She would defy fate itself if she had to, to see him standing before her once again. The path ahead was fraught with danger, filled with obstacles she could scarcely imagine. But she would face them head-on, with unwavering resolve and unyielding determination. For Tom was her everything, her reason for being. And she would not rest until she had him back by her side, where he rightfully belonged.

As Genevieve's eyes scanned the intricate patterns of the Black Tapestry, tracing the lineage of the ancient family through the ages, her thoughts swirled with a mixture of curiosity and unease. The most recent additions to the tapestry caught her attention, the two Black sisters standing out amongst the myriad of names and faces of Bellatrix and Narcissa. She also seemed to notice that someone had been blasted off the tapestry. Genevieve closed her eyes and hummed. She touched the blasted hole and let her magic run through her fingers and not a second later, she saw that she fixed it. Another sister appeared before her, Andromeda Black. Genevieve couldn't help but wonder what had happened. 

But as her gaze lingered on their names, a sense of foreboding washed over her. The sisters were entwined in a web of darkness and deceit, if she knew the Blacks at all, and she sure did. Their lives were shaped by forces beyond their control. Genevieve tore her gaze away from the tapestry, feeling a sense of disquiet settle over her. Leaving the room behind, she made her way through the corridors, her steps guided by a sense of purpose. She sought out Walburga, the matriarch of the Black family, hoping to glean some insight into the secrets that lay buried within the ancient walls.

As she approached Walburga's portrait, she braced herself for the inevitable confrontation. She had questions that needed answers, truths that needed to be uncovered. And she would not rest until she had unraveled the mysteries of the past, and perhaps, a glimmer of hope for the future.

Genevieve stood before the imposing portrait of Walburga Black, her former friend and confidante. The stern-faced woman in the portrait regarded her with a mixture of suspicion and disdain, her lips drawn into a tight line.

"Walburga," Genevieve began tentatively, her voice echoing softly in the quiet hallway. "I need to speak with you."

Walburga's expression softened slightly at the sound of Genevieve's voice, a flicker of recognition crossing her features. "Genevieve," she replied curtly. "What brings you here?"

Genevieve hesitated for a moment before pressing on, her curiosity outweighing her apprehension. "I wanted to ask you about your nieces – Bellatrix, Andromeda, and Narcissa. What happened to them?"

A shadow passed over Walburga's face at the mention of her nieces, a mix of sorrow and regret clouding her eyes. "Ah, my dear nieces," she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. "They were once the pride of the Black family, shining examples of pureblood heritage." She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "Bellatrix, the eldest, was always the most fervent in her devotion to the Dark Lord. From a young age, she showed a ruthless determination to prove herself, to earn his favor at any cost." Genevieve listened intently, absorbing every word as Walburga recounted the tale of her nieces' descent into darkness.

"Andromeda," Walburga continued, her voice tinged with regret, "chose a different path, one that led her away from the family's traditions and into the arms of a Muggle-born wizard. She betrayed our bloodline, shaming us all with her disgraceful actions." \Genevieve frowned at the harshness of Walburga's words, sensing the pain that lay beneath her facade of disdain.

"And Narcissa," Genevieve prompted, her curiosity piqued by the mention of the youngest Black sister.

"Narcissa," Walburga sighed, her voice heavy with sorrow. "She too was ensnared by the machinations of the Dark Lord, but her motives were driven not by loyalty, but by love. She sought to protect her family at all costs, even if it meant aligning herself with forces beyond her control."

"And now," Genevieve murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "the family is but a shadow of its former self."

Walburga nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on Genevieve with a newfound respect. "Indeed," she replied. "But perhaps there is still hope for redemption, for a chance to reclaim what has been lost." Genevieve nodded, feeling a pang of sympathy for Andromeda and the difficult choices she had been forced to make. The conflict between family duty and personal desire was a familiar one, and she couldn't help but admire Andromeda's courage in following her heart. For it was never an easy feat to defy family beliefs and tradition.

However, hearing that Bellatrix was devoted to Tom drew suspicions to Genevieve’s mind. To give up your freedom and to follow his counterpart entirely at such a young age only made her wonder, if Bellatrix was as loyal as Walburga said she was, and knowing Tom, he would give only his few and most loyal followers the most important tasks. Tasks, that could mean protecting a horcrux. Genevieve’s eyes widened at this idea. However, she would need confirmation from both Walburga and Harry and Hermione before anything. 

With one final question, Genevieve asked Walburga, “Whom did your nieces marry?”

Walburga said, “Well…Bellatrix married Rodolphus Lestrange. Andromeda married a Muggleborn…believe his name was Tonks or something along those lines. Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy.” Genevieve’s eyes narrowed at the mention of a Malfoy. She despised the Malfoy lineage, especially Abraxas. She recalled the times that he would torment Tom, only for him to be a slimy git and later on wanting to follow Tom for his power and his connection to Slytherin himself.

Genevieve thanked Walburga, “Thank you dear friend, you have helped me a great dear.”

Wlaburga nodded, “Not a problem my dear but I must say, you never mentioned how you are alive.” 

Genevieve smiled, “Like I said, it’s a long story. Nonetheless, when time is on our side, I’ll tell you all of it. Think of it as a favor I owe you for your insightfulness.”

Walburga smirked, “Once a Slytherin, always a Slytherin. Very well, good luck Gen. Toujours Pur.”

Genevieve replied, “Toujours Pur. Goodnight Walburga.”

As the morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Grimmauld, Genevieve bustled around the kitchen, preparing a hearty breakfast for Harry and Hermione. The aroma of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee filled the air as she moved about with practiced efficiency. Harry and Hermione soon entered the kitchen, their tired expressions brightening at the sight and smell of the delicious spread laid out before them.

"Morning, Genevieve," Harry greeted with a warm smile as he took a seat at the table.

"Good morning, Harry, Hermione," Genevieve chimed, returning the smile as she set down plates of eggs and toast in front of them.

"Wow, this looks amazing," Hermione exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with delight as she took in the array of food.

Genevieve chuckled, pleased with their reactions. "Well, I figured we could use a good breakfast to start the day off right." As they dug into their meal, the conversation flowed easily between them, filled with laughter and camaraderie.

"So, any plans for today?" Genevieve asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

Harry shrugged, "Not much, really. Just going to try and decipher more of that mysterious note from R.A.B. and see if we can get insight to track down the next Horcrux."

Hermione nodded in agreement, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Yes, and I was thinking we should revisit some of the books in the library. There might be some clues we've overlooked."

Genevieve nodded thoughtfully, "Harry, I've been meaning to ask you," she began, her voice gentle. "How exactly did you acquire the diary that turned out to be a horcrux?" 

Harry paused, setting down his fork as he recalled the events of his second year at Hogwarts. "It was Ginny Weasley who had the diary first," he explained. "Lucius Malfoy slipped it into her cauldron when we were shopping for school supplies at Diagon Alley. Ginny became attached to it, but then strange things started happening. I found the diary in the girl's bathroom on the second floor. That's when I started writing in it, and that's when I met Tom Riddle." 

Genevieve listened intently as Harry recounted his encounter with the memory of Tom Riddle trapped within the diary. She could sense the weight of his words, the lingering trauma of facing Voldemort's past self. "And then," Harry continued, his voice tinged with determination, "I destroyed the horcrux with the basilisk fang from the Chamber of Secrets. It was the only way to stop Riddle from regaining his power." Genevieve's eyes widened at the fact that maybe she was right. If Lucius had a horcrux with him, then Bellatrix would as well, being the protectors of objects of such dark magic, she knew that Tom most likely gave it to them without them knowing what they were hiding. 

“That must have been extremely difficult. Destroying dark magic is extremely difficult and dangerous.” Genevieve said softly. 

“It was,” Harry replied, “But at the time, I didn’t know what it was. All I knew is that I had to save Ginny.”

Genevieve smiled, “You are extremely brave for that.”

Harry slightly blushed. “Thanks, uhm…I guess.”

Genevieve then asked curiously, “So Lucius Malfoy, is he a follower of Tom’s exclusive gang. Is he a Knight?”

Harry and Hermione were confused and furrowed their eyebrows. Harry said puzzled, “Uhm, no he’s a Death Eater. He was there when Voldemort came back to life.”

Genevieve furrowed her eyebrows now, “Death Eaters?”

Hermione interjected, “Yeah…those are what Voldemort’s followers are called. They bear the mark of a snake and skull.”

Genevieve eyes looked like they were going to barge out, “A mark? With a snake and skull? Where the snake comes out of the skull’s head?”

Harry, fumbling with his words said, “Yeah…wait how do you know that?”

Genevieve sighed, “I drew something once of exactly what you described. I was going to get a tattoo, like the ones Muggles have. I thought they were fascinating and I thought it would be a perfect way to rebel against my fathers. I never expected Tom to make it a mark for his followers…but I know if I was there still, none of this would happen. I think he became lost but I don’t think it was just because of me.”

Hermione, curious, asked, “What do you mean?”

Genevieve, slightly frustrated at herself, “I don’t know…I remember many things but there are still some things I can’t seem to recall…like if I am missing memories.”

Harry, concerned, wondered and asked Genevieve, “Do you think you lost some of your own memories?”

Genevieve turned to Harry and took a deep breath, “No…but I think I might need time to recall them.” Harry and Hermione merely looked at her and wondered how much more suffering she would endure. Genevieve turned to them, and softly smiled, “Don’t worry about me. It’s most likely because I was asleep for so many years. Why don’t you guys freshen up and we’ll meet in the library later.” Both Harry and Hermione smiled and finished their breakfast before moving to get ready for the day.

Draped in dark robes that the great Bellatrix Lestrange would wear, Genevieve strode through the marble halls of Gringotts Bank with an air of authority. Her features shifted and morphed with each step, her magic disguising her true identity flawlessly.

"I wish to open my vault," she barked at the nearest goblin, her voice a chilling echo of Bellatrix's own.

The goblin hesitated, eyeing her warily. "You must show your wand," he insisted, his voice gruff with suspicion.

Genevieve's lips curled into a cold smile as she met the goblin's gaze. With a flick of her wrist, she cast the Imperius Curse upon him, bending his will to her own. "Lead the way," she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. The goblin obeyed, leading Genevieve through the twisting corridors of Gringotts until they reached the imposing door of the Black vault. As they approached, the goblin spoke in hushed tones, moving to bang the bell to distract the Dragon that protected the vault. Genevieve told him to stop what he was about to do.

Genevieve smirked, her confidence unshaken. She stepped forward and hissed in Parseltongue, her words laced with ancient magic. 

“I mean no harm oh great Mother of Snakes.”

The dragon, startled by her ability to speak its language, rumbled in surprise. “A Ssspeaker, there isss very few of you left.”

“Yesss there are few left of usss. I only come to retrieve what is rightfully mine. If you allow me to passs of courssse.”

“Go ahead, my child.” Genevieve is able to head to the vault as soon as the dragon moves aside for her. Entering the vault, Genevieve's sharp eyes quickly scanned the dimly lit chamber. Galleons lay scattered across the floor, each one cursed to multiply upon touch. Ignoring the tempting glint of gold, she focused her attention on her objective.

There, nestled among the glittering treasures, she spotted it: Helga Hufflepuff's cup, gleaming with ancient power. With steady hands, she reached out and plucked it from its resting place, cradling it gently in her grasp. Safely stowing the cup in her satchel, Genevieve turned to leave the vault. But before she departed, she paused to bow respectfully to the dragon, gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Thank you Mother," she murmured, her voice sincere.

With a regal nod of its head, the dragon watched as Genevieve made her way back through the winding tunnels of Gringotts, her mission accomplished. As she emerged into the daylight, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. The next step in their quest was complete, and she was one step closer to bringing Tom Riddle back from the darkness.

Harry and Hermione pored over dusty tomes and ancient scrolls, searching for any clue that might lead them to the remaining Horcruxes. The air was heavy with the scent of old parchment and the weight of their mission hung over them like a shroud. Harry slammed another book shut in frustration, causing Hermione to glance up from her own research with a concerned frown. "Any luck?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Harry shook his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. "Nothing," he muttered, his frustration evident. "I can't believe we've been at this for hours and we still don't have a clue about where to find Hufflepuff's cup or Ravenclaw's diadem."

Hermione's brow furrowed in thought as she turned back to her book, flipping through the pages with a sense of determination. "We just need to keep looking," she insisted, her voice unwavering. "There has to be something here that can help us."

Harry nodded, though his frustration still simmered beneath the surface. "I just wish we had more to go on," he admitted, his tone heavy with frustration. Just then, Hermione's attention was drawn back to her book, her eyes scanning the words intently. But as she tried to focus, thoughts of Ron's well-being began to creep into her mind, distracting her from her research.

"Have you seen Genevieve?" Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts, causing her to startle slightly.

Hermione shook her head, her expression troubled. "Not since breakfast," she replied, her voice tinged with concern. "Do you think something's wrong?"

Harry shrugged, though his worry was evident in his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I just have a feeling that we could use her help right now." As Harry moved off to search for another book, Hermione turned back to her own research, trying to focus her attention. But the weight of their mission, coupled with her concerns for Ron, weighed heavily on her mind. Unable to fight off the exhaustion any longer, she let her head fall onto the pages of her book, succumbing to sleep as the words blurred before her eyes.

Genevieve wandered through Grimmauld, her footsteps echoing softly against the ancient walls as she made her way to the library. She had been on her way to give the exciting news to both Harry and Hermione when she stumbled upon Hermione, fast asleep amidst a pile of books. Gently, Genevieve reached out and shook Hermione's shoulder, rousing her from her slumber. Hermione jolted awake with a gasp, her eyes wide with confusion before they softened with relief upon seeing Genevieve.

"Genevieve!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice filled with joy as she moved to embrace her friend. But before she could, her expression shifted to one of reproach. "Where have you been? Harry and I have been worried sick!"

Harry entered the library just in time to catch Hermione's scolding, his brow furrowed with concern. "Yeah, Genevieve, we've been worried about you, you just disappeared" he added, his tone matching Hermione's. Genevieve smiled softly at their concern, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry for disappearing like that without saying anything," she began, her voice gentle. "But I needed some time to clear my head and think things through."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Genevieve held up a hand to silence her. "I promise I'm okay," she reassured them. "And I think I may have found a lead on where to find Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, their concern giving way to curiosity. "What did you find?" Harry asked, his voice eager. Genevieve beckoned them closer, her expression serious. "But first, we need to make sure we're all calm and focused," she said. "Because what I'm about to tell you is going to require all of our attention." Harry and Hermione nodded.

Genevieve stood before Harry and Hermione, a triumphant smile playing on her lips as she moved to show them Hufflepuff's cup delicately in her hands. The room fell silent as Harry and Hermione's jaws dropped in astonishment, their eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before them.

"H-how... W-when…Where did you find that?" Hermione stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing.

Genevieve's smile widened as she glanced between her two friends, excitement bubbling within her. "It's a long story, but let me explain," she began, her tone filled with confidence. "Remember how you told me that Lucius Malfoy had Tom’s diary and put it in Ginny’s cauldron?"

Harry and Hermione nodded, their attention fully focused on Genevieve as she continued. "Well, it got me thinking. If Lucius had it and it was a Horcrux, then surely another member of his inner circle must have been entrusted with a Horcrux as well, without even knowing it."

Harry's eyes widened in realization, his mind racing to piece together the puzzle. "Bellatrix," he whispered, the pieces falling into place.

Genevieve nodded, her smile turning knowing. "Exactly. Bellatrix was one of the youngest followers of Voldemort and was fiercely devoted to him, just like Regulus. It got me thinking of the possibility that she was given a Horcrux to protect without even realizing what it was, especially if her cousin knew about them and Malfoy beared a Horcrux as well"

Hermione's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she leaned in closer, hanging on Genevieve's every word. "But how did you know where she hid it?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder.

Genevieve's smile turned mischievous as she recounted her daring adventure. "I had a little chat with Walburga," she began, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "The Black family always protected their most prized possessions in their vault. So, I disguised myself as Bellatrix and retrieved the Horcrux from the Black vault."

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look of awe, their admiration for Genevieve evident in their expressions. "That's incredible," Harry breathed, his voice filled with admiration.

Genevieve nodded, a sense of satisfaction washing over her. "It was risky, but it was worth it," she said, her voice tinged with determination. "And now, we're one step closer to bringing Tom back and destroying Voldemort."

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