I am Voldemort's friend

 Chapter Fifteen. Conversation with Tom

The "guardianship" over Tom has weakened somewhat — without the ability to read his thoughts and put their own into the boy's head, it is difficult to influence him. I don't think "Goblins, Dippet, Dumbledore and Co." will fall behind the last descendant of Slytherin, but now they are revising their plans. I don't know — maybe they're betting on potions, blackmail, or something else... We'll see.

At the beginning of the school year, as usual, I didn't start any intrigues. And if you think I'm the only one who's so smart... well, yes! After the holidays, the kids showed with depressing certainty, both verbally and non-verbally, that they were up to something. What do you expect from children... Strictly speaking, you can't blame them for that — Hogwarts is designed for learning, including intrigue. As a wizard with considerable life experience, I could see the attempts of the kids (including a significant number of older students), and the teaching staff could see them too. The young magicians themselves... well, they're just kids, and let's be honest, who can guarantee that the adults aren't using them to pass on useful information or misinformation? Exactly...

Tom looked pretty good against this backdrop — he didn't stand out, so I waited until the weekend, when Dippet and Dumbledore weren't in the castle, and followed him after lunch...

"After lunch, Tom glanced at his classmates with carefully concealed longing — on the advice of an unknown well-wisher, he had somewhat dampened his abilities and was now not exactly an outcast at Slytherin... But in essence, no one noticed him. Who would be interested in a Muggle-born or half-blood who was not recognised by his family? If only he had a bright magical gift or if he could show his true level of knowledge...

It couldn't be said that things were particularly sad — he had friends, even many of them. But when it came to close friends... that was worse. 

Getting up from the table, Tom slowly made his way towards the library, one of the few places where he felt comfortable. A short third-year student in a Ravenclaw uniform, whom the boy knew by sight, came out of an empty classroom into the corridor. Nodding in greeting, Robert struck up a casual conversation...

 "Going to the library? Me too, I've been assigned a stupid essay on herbology, and the information in the textbooks is somewhat contradictory. 

 "What is it?

 "Mushrooms, damn them," Tally said with annoyance.

Tom nodded understandingly — mushrooms were, in a number of ways, complete exceptions that had to be memorised. Take, for example, the fact that the same species of mushroom is edible in one area and poisonous in another*. They discussed mycology for a while and...

 "...I picked up Herbert Wessex's book On Mental Magic," Tom heard.

 "Mental?" he asked, trying not to scare him away.

 "Yes. You know — Occlumency, Legilimency..." With these words, Tally pulled a huge volume from the inner pocket of his robe, casually showing the precious handwritten book and the fact that the pocket of his ordinary robe had the properties of a bag or chest with folded space!

The boy's thoughts raced — he wanted to get his hands on such a treasure as a book... And also — information about the pockets... and...

 "Want to see?" Robert's voice reached him, "There are some funny moments in there." Like chickens on a string, the Slytherin followed the Ravenclaw, and a few minutes later they found themselves on the eighth floor — where even senior students were not recommended to go, because here Hogwarts could "play" with both space and the laws of physics. And sometimes — with time. 

But Tally felt very confident here, and they arrived at their destination... Tom only now realised that the Ravenclaw had been tapping something on the stairs, after which they were transported from the second floor straight to the eighth.

 "Want some?" Tally asked the Slytherin, entering an empty classroom without portraits and holding out a familiar wafer made of sprouted wheat in his palm. Riddle felt his eyes pop out of their sockets against his will...

 "Sit down," I suggest to Tom, and show him how, sitting down on the wide windowsill. I take out my pipe... Yes, I started smoking — I had to. I won't go into details, but I'll just say that I only smoke at Hogwarts — tobacco dulls my senses. After filling the pipe and lighting it, I silently blow out a ring of smoke.

Riddle is silent, but he can't hold out for long.

 "Is that you or...

 "Me. I gave you protection from Legilimency, and everything else too. 

 "Ah...

 "Let me give you a quick background, questions later.

The boy nods and sits down on the bench, tucking his left leg under him in a worn red boot.

 "It started... I can't say exactly when. But it was the goblins who started this whole thing. Those green-skinned little creatures are considered 'non-humans' for a reason." That is, races with which humans have been unable to find a common language. And it's no surprise — they are strangers on Earth and see humans as food. 

 "They really eat them...?"

 "Yes, they really do. And not only do they eat them, but they also use body parts in rituals, torture and so on. Not only humans, but also sidhe... everyone, in fact. The wars with them were literally a matter of life and death — with enemies like that, you can be sure they won't rest until they've reduced all other races to talking livestock. It's not even a religion or an ideology, it's goblin physiology.

I make myself comfortable, smoking my pipe. I don't think for long and... take out cups, sugar and tea, silently offering some to Tom. We make tea. It's chilly here, there's no heating, and besides warming spells, we need something like this.

 "Anyway, we fought them, we fought... And in the year 1600, by chance, or rather by outright treachery, the goblins captured first Hogsmeade, and then Hogwarts. 

 "I didn't know about Hogwarts," the boy says hoarsely, "only about Hogsmeade.

 "They keep quiet about the capture of the castle because that's where the Fall of Magical England began. The heirs of noble families were captured and... Their leaders were given an ultimatum.

Tom is visibly shaken by these revelations — the boy is intelligent and understands perfectly well what has been left unsaid.

 "I would... refuse.

I nod...

 "If it weren't for Hogwarts, many would have refused. But here... the heirs and offspring of pure-blooded families have been taken captive. Can you imagine how many... interesting things could be done by sacrificing them at the magical Source of the Castle?

The Slytherin's eyes widen in horror and the cup in his hands begins to tremble — he must have imagined it.

 "They surrendered, and thus the Gringotts Bank was born, where pure-bloods were OBLIGED to deposit their money, artefacts, Family Codes and so on for safekeeping. 

 "And then... nothing?

I shrug my shoulders.

 "Maybe there were attempts, but as you can see, the situation only got worse. You must understand that the goblins essentially have the mages by the balls. I'll say right away that I have no idea how the goblins control the wizards who work for them, knowing the plans of their... employers. 

 "I see. But... why... me?

 "Because you're a Slytherin, and Slytherins didn't study at Hogwarts back then, so they remained independent.

 "Slytherin?! Me?!

 "Gont is one of the branches of the Slytherin family. Let's talk about your family later, okay?

 "Y-yes...

 "The Gonts and a number of other families did not participate in the Surrender and, as a result, remained independent. Gradually, persecution began. Not only goblins participated, but also wizards. Some did so willingly and consciously, but most did so blindly, like a bulldog set on a trail. Gradually, people stopped associating with the Gonts, and they... became feral, to put it bluntly. More accurately, they degenerated. The fact that you were born beautiful, intelligent, healthy, and magically gifted is a miracle. Your mother, Merope Gont, apparently performed one of the now forbidden Rituals of Destiny, and it designated a Muggle as her husband...

 "But Muggles are animals!

 "Don't interrupt! Muggles are all the same, and the main thing is that they also have... Blood. So now you may be half-blood, formally, if you follow the Ministry's laws... But according to the Laws of Magic, you are pure. Let your relatives not recognise you... Yes, yes, they don't recognise you, but I don't advise you to go to them to argue and demand justice — I'm not sure they're to blame in this situation. The intrigue with the House of Slytherin has been going on for more than a century, so... mentalism, potions, or just the right words said at the right time. 

 "So I'm Gont and not Gont at the same time?

 "Once you enter the Force, you become a Gont by right of the Force and the House, regardless of your relatives' opinion. Actually, I wouldn't advise you to approach them at all.

 "Traps?

 "Definitely. So don't go near them and... let's try to make you look like a broken mediocrity.

 "Grr!

I'm brushing off my indignation...

 "IF this works, there will be HOPE that our enemies will postpone their plan to destroy or enslave the Slytherins.

 "So... it's like luring me into a bank when I'm older and giving me the 'Regalia of the Ancestors', while extracting the necessary oaths? – Riddle figured it out instantly.

 "Something like that. I wouldn't even rule out the possibility that they actually have some Slytherin artefacts. But you know... it's not worth losing your freedom.

Tom thought about it, mechanically sipping his cold tea. I warmed it up with my wandless non-verbal spell, and the boy nodded gratefully.

 "And what reason would your family have for helping me?" Riddle asked suspiciously a few minutes later.

I grunt understandingly — healthy distrust is our everything.

 "And with all the Founders' heirs, only the Gonts remain Pure and can take Hogwarts back under their control and start fixing the situation.

 "I see... As I understand it, the chances of that happening aren't very high, otherwise my ancestors would have taken advantage of it long ago, right?

 "That's right. But as long as the Gont family is alive and has not joined the Oath of Surrender, at least the castle does not belong to the goblins. And it's not hard to guess what will happen when they capture one of the most powerful Sources on the Island. So getting you out of the game or at least making you a little stronger is already a good thing. 

Tom grunted and hunched his shoulders...

 "What's wrong?

 "Yeah... when I think of all the intrigue, and going back to the orphanage every summer... 

 "Phew... I feel for you with the orphanage, I had to go there myself...

 "You?!

 "Me. I won't go into details, I'm sorry — family secrets. But I had to live on the streets for a while, so I got to know the orphanages well.

Tom's gaze warms — I've become a little closer to him.

 "The orphanage," I continue, "I'll try to help, but I can't promise anything. After my third year, it's unlikely, but after my fourth, there's hope. No details!

A pause...

 "Now about your strategy.

Riddle/Gont immediately became alert, putting his cup aside.

 "Pff... Let's try to pretend that your outstanding intellectual abilities were closely related to mentalism. This is actually quite a common phenomenon — practitioners of mental magic experience a significant increase in intelligence. The opposite could also be true.

 "So if I've kind of lost my mentalist abilities, does that mean I've gotten dumber? Tom looked frankly dissatisfied, which was understandable...

 "Yes," I say harshly, "you've gotten dumber. Not much... Although we can blame it on your deteriorating memory, that's also an argument. Next, in potion-making, numerology, arithmetic, and runes, you should be, if not the best, then one of the best. 

 "Yeah, I already am..." the boy said, offended.

 "But in charms and transfiguration, you need to 'sit down'.

 "It's like in the third year, the programme got harder and I'm just not doing as well?

 "Exactly. 

The Slytherin slumped — he already had a shaky position in the faculty, so studying was his only chance for self-fulfilment. 

 "I understand," he said grimly, "but... it sucks!

I smile sympathetically...

 "You think you're the only one? — and I unleash a cascade of non-verbal, fingerless spells, right up to the level of a third-year student. Riddle is stunned and watches me with wide eyes.

 "And it's not just me," I finish off Tom, "but many purebloods. In the end, IF you want to, you can shine at the FROG or OWL exams, and no one cares about the midterms.

 "So... yes..." the boy stammers, "I understand. But it's unfair!"

 "It's unfair," I agree with him, "do you think I want to waste my time in the Castle? But I have to — because politics, damn it... Getting to know purebreds in their natural habitat...

My companion giggles, and I successfully imitate Kettleburn.

 "And how am I going to convincingly show that I've gotten worse with the wand?

 "They'll isolate me," I pass him the vial, "a few drops on your palm, and the magic will leave your body with some effort, and you'll get some control with a reserve.

 "Ah...

 "I'll help you with the training programme (Tom nods approvingly), but there will be no spells or transfiguration beyond the Hogwarts curriculum this year. Don't get upset! You'll go through it with the isolate, with non-verbal spells, with other wands or without them at all.

The boy who had jumped up from the bench calms down and sits back down.

 "Sorry," he says hoarsely but sincerely, "I lost my temper, but then I realised that until I stop reacting like that, it's dangerous for me to learn spells beyond the programme — I might accidentally throw something unusual in the heat of the moment. And then there are the curious onlookers... So, it's the usual Hogwarts programme, but with a non-standard execution, plus Occlumency. Right?

 "Right. And also..." He pulls out a well-worn book called "Clever Household Charms for Unconventional Use." "Drip some blood on it."

With a knowing chuckle, Tom cuts his finger and touches it to the right spot. He opens the book...

 "This is about rituals, traditions and rites of pure-blooded families, why do I need this?

I struggle to keep from facepalming... But then I remember that he's just a kid and is looking for power he can UNDERSTAND. And here he is with rituals and ceremonies...

 "This is the BASIS of magic, and you will have to memorise the book BY HEART. And then you'll take exams, and you'll have to know it so well that you'll be able to quote the book from any page and any paragraph! Phew... sorry for the tone, but you pissed me off. No, I won't explain when you start studying it, you'll understand my reaction. 

 "Um... should I hide it?

 "Why? If you spill blood on it, you can read it, but for everyone else it will be "Clever Household Spells." If you don't spill blood on it, it will be just "Spells" for you. It's useful, by the way — there are lots of interesting examples of non-standard uses of standard spells. It will come in handy in everyday life and for self-defence.

Riddle hesitates, but sees that I'm about to leave, and decides...

 "Will we still... communicate like this?

 "Not really," I say, letting a little more regret slip into my voice than I actually feel, "at least not this year. If we can meet a couple of times a year without raising suspicion, that'll be fine."

The boy nods sadly — he's just found someone he can call a friend, and now... But it's okay, he walks away — secrets and intrigue add to your self-esteem when you're involved in them.

Tally left first, and Tom himself a few minutes later. The library... Once you've said you're going there, you'd better show up; no one cancelled classes. 

The situation looked... dangerous. The heir to Slytherin, a confrontation with goblins and the magicians who collaborate with them... or do the magicians not collaborate, but serve the goblins? But at least it's good that he knows about the situation. And it's also good that he has an ally."

The same type of mushroom is edible in one area and poisonous in another*" This is not fake, it is true. Mushrooms have a tendency to accumulate all sorts of things, so a lot depends on the soil composition and climate. Anyone who has been poisoned by ordinary butter mushrooms or birch mushrooms that grew (as it later turned out) near a factory or after a "dirty" rain will understand what I mean. 

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