"You've caused quite the stir," Dumbledore commented as he stood in front of their path. Tom bit the inside of his mouth as he was prone to do in front of the professor—he had to remember to hold his tongue back, after all. Even if it was extraordinarily tempting to rip the old codger a new one for assuming that Tom was to blame for everything. Dumbledore then glanced at Patil, eyes still bright, "Both of you have."

Patil's lips pursed, the witch was obviously uncomfortable from Dumbledore's attention but she remained stubbornly silent. Her behavior was strange; she hadn't bothered to be so tightlipped in front of the Unspeakables but her unease (distrust) of Dumbledore piqued Tom's interest. It implied that there was more to the story. Did Patil know Dumbledore? Of course, the wizard was an established fixture of Hogwarts—it was difficult to imagine the school without the old wizard looking at Tom in thinly veiled disapproval.

While Dumbledore didn't sigh, Tom would readily admit the professor looked weary with fatigue and apparent age. It was rather startling though he loathed to admit it, Dumbledore always looked untouched by time and everything else.

"I suppose the both of you have quite the story to tell," Dumbledore continued seeing as Patil had declined to open her mouth. He steps back a few paces, allowing the two to cross the threshold of the castle. "Follow me to the infirmary, Madam Jones is, unfortunately, visiting her sister but I'm sure I manage—"

"That won't be necessary for me," Patil interrupted, her voice soft but startlingly apparent. Tom found himself nearly frowning, his eyes trained on the blooming bruise on her face. It was nonsensically illogical to refuse healing even if it was offered by Dumbledore.

The professor was silent as he studied Patil's face, faintly lingering on the cut on her lip and the steady look in her eyes. Judging by how quickly the older wizard looked away, he too was uncomfortable by the witch's decision but he acquiesced. "Very well, but you are both more than welcome to freshen up in the infirmary before joining me for lunch. I'm afraid that large portions of the castle are currently hibernating—it would be best not to disturb it."

Washing up did sound rather glorious and while he was glad that Dumbledore wasn't going to immediately begin interrogating him, Tom's mind caught on something unusual. "And what exactly do you mean by hibernating, professor?" Tom asked, careful to keep his tone even and bland as it always was whenever he spoke to the old Gryffindor.

Dumbledore did not immediately answer as they walked through the halls much to Tom's irritation. Typical, always holding secrets. It was only when they were across from the infirmary's doors that Dumbledore spoke. "On the behest of myself and the Board of Governors, the castle's defenses have been fortified before the next term begins. It takes some time for the magic to settle."

Tom wished to ask so many more questions but the wizard ushered them through the doors brusquely without speaking any further.

It had become tradition—almost ritualistic—for Tom to bathe immediately after the Welcome Feast. Here at Hogwarts, there were no limits on hot water or soap or clean linens. It was no little relief or pleasure to see his clothes had been laundered and pressed in the time he had been soaking in the bath and that his shoes had even been shined, as shabby as they were. Yes, Tom was certain of it, there was nothing he loved greater than magic. He felt much more in control as he returned to the main room of the infirmary, even taking the time to wipe some of the now dried blood off of Maloney's ugly wand before keeping it readily tucked away. He still wanted his own of course but Tom had learned to be economical.

While Tom had gone to wash the filth off his person, Patil had, much to his disgust, unceremoniously collapsed into an empty cot as soon Dumbledore was no longer in sight. Tom had even wrinkled his nose considering the witch hadn't even bothered to change out of her soiled robes.

The witch was still lying on the cot when he emerged from the W.C., looking more like a lump of cloth rather than a person. Tom examined her still figure for a few moments as he allowed himself to idly wonder how a witch had managed to change so much of his life in barely a day's time. It was well in the middle of summer and yet here he stood within Hogwarts—something he had been told was impossible since his first year. He was no longer the only Parselmouth, a fact that he was still digesting rather carefully. Patil herself had confessed that she wasn't a traditional speaker but that didn't change the fact that she was still the clearest link to his heritage that he had. He had also, much to his fury, lost his wand but if he hadn't, Tom would have never realized how dependent on it he was. His neglect of honing his wandless magic was clearly a mistake and his complacency had almost cost him everything. He was well aware that they had both escaped by the skin of their teeth, and it was mostly due to Patil's obsession with a children's spellbook of all things. Tom had severe doubts he would have escaped so cleanly without her bumbling. Patil may be barely able to apparate in a straight line but she far surpassed expectations when it came to runes and sigils. That she hadn't simply abandoned him at the first sign of conflict had been foolish but Tom looked forward to exploiting that heart.

But first, he was better off in the library. He was not one to merely sit idle. Though Dumbledore had mentioned that most of the castle was apparently hibernating, that didn't mean Tom would blindly follow the old fool's words. He knew he could find a way, even with the faulty wand. He tore his gaze away from the sleeping witch as he walked across the ward, intent on leaving the infirmary. It was only as he reached the large wooden doors that he felt his joints begin to stiffen. Initially, he brushed it off as fatigue but as he neared the threshold, his legs began to seize up as though they had suddenly gained a mind of their own. Had Dumbledore placed a magical barrier on the infirmary's entrance?

Tom frowned, he hadn't noticed Dumbledore casting any magic as he had led them here but he supposed it was possible the old man had performed wordless magic without drawing his notice. There was a possibility that Patil had noticed as he remembered how she knew how far a radius Maloney had cast the Disapparition Hex. The fact that she had looked rather dumbfounded at Tom's question had been frustrating—yet another obvious thing that he didn't know.

He could likely break whatever barrier Dumbledore had installed but that was only if he had his true wand. Maloney's was barely serviceable, in fact, Tom wasn't even confident in calling it a wand. Still, Tom was no fool. As disgusting as it felt to hold it, a stolen wand was better than no wand at all. Besides, a wand that also couldn't immediately be linked to him had certain merits that couldn't be ignored. He'd save the wand of course but that meant not testing its abilities until absolutely necessary. Breaking it would entirely defeat its purpose. Reluctantly, he moved away from the door, feeling relief as he neared Patil's cot. Meddling old fool.

He sat on the cot across from the Unspeakable, stewing and brooding. But even that became tiring after a while—the infirmary was actually beginning to get warm from the sunlight that poured in. It was soothing alongside the inherent magic that he could feel from the stones of the castle—it lulled him until he too felt his eyes close in slumber.

When Tom woke, his eyes glanced over to her empty cot as he startled—not again—nearly jerking out of bed until his eyes latched onto her seated figure a short distance away. Patil sat in front of the windows that overlooked the grounds and as he rose, Tom very nearly snorted as he caught sight of the yellow frilly monstrosity she had obviously replaced her ill-fitting robes with. She'd bathed at least even if her robes were an eye-sore. She had left her hair open to dry and it hung like black sil—Tom stopped behind her, his jaw tensing.

It was only when he was practically standing behind her that she opened her mouth. She didn't bother to even look at him, fixating her attention on the empty grounds and the shimmering surface of the Black Lake. "Do you still have the wand?" she whispered, voice barely making a sound. "And I'd be careful with your words, the portrait is watching."

Tom froze in place and then forcibly eased the tension from his body. He rested his hand on the back of her wooden chair, the picture of nonchalance and his grip was deceivingly lax. He hadn't even noticed a portrait but he should have known better than to believe Dumbledore would simply leave them here unmonitored.

"Of course," he replied. Do you take me for a fool?

"He'll likely be calling for us now that we're both awake. Hopefully, we'll have a small window of time before the Unspeakables arrive if he hasn't called them already," Patil stated the words casually as she swept a lock of hair from her face.

Interesting, Tom thought. Patil didn't seem to trust Dumbledore overly much. What did she know? "Can't Dumbledore be trusted? He is the deputy headmaster, after all."

"Planning for contingencies is basic logic—his public position constrains him even if it isn't immediately obvious." Patil sighed.

"So you know him then?" Tom fished again—everyone and their mother trusted Dumbledore even the purebloods in Slytherin trusted his image. What could Dumbledore have possibly done for Patil to want to plan around him?

Patil ignored his question. "While we're here we'll have a slight reprieve from Maloney and his ilk but I doubt they'll give up so easily now that they've shown their hand to the Unspeakables. They'll want to tie up loose ends more than ever." Tom clenched his teeth even as Patil continued. "I will likely have to reveal your Parselmouth abilities to them and we'll have to present Maloney's wand as evidence."

Tom had often thought that his rage was like a suffocating frost that blanketed everything but hearing Patil just decide everything as though he was meekly going to go along made him feel as though his blood was boiling within his veins. Quick, sudden and thoroughly intoxicating. How dare this witch upend his life and then command him as if he was some peon.

"There's actually something I've been meaning to tell you—it's about when you first landed in my bedroom," the words fell out of his mouth smoothly like oil. "Well, it's something I need to show you, actually."

Patil shifted in her chair, her head turning slightly as Tom gripped Maloney's wand.

He waited until their eyes met—the single moment had been more than long enough for him to throw his magic into the shallows of her mind. He often equated it with fishing, watching the old men cast their lines out along the pier when he'd have the chance to wander the streets before supper. It had become rather routine at this point; common practice at Wool's and even on the stragglers that tend to trail after his coattails. He rarely needed more than a flicker of his magic to pull surface thoughts from those nearly-empty skulls.

But something went wrong.

His magic was suddenly being dragged inward; he felt a deep pull from the recesses of her mind as though a gaping abyss had taken hold of his magic and yanked on his thread of consciousness. Tom grit his teeth; panic alight in his heart as he scrambled to find purchase and stop himself from being dragged deeper into Patil's mind. He found himself nearly snarling at Patil's bright and glassy eyes which hadn't changed from their previously dazed expression. Is she doing this subconsciously? How is that possible?

He felt clumsy in his own body as he tried to move his eyes to look away—to break the connection before whatever it was swallowed him whole—but found himself almost leaning closer as his own eyes burned bright with magic.

And so Tom Riddle fell deep within the witch's mind as the silence in the infirmary stood witness.

"You shouldn't be here," a young girl's voice called out. Tom woke startled, grimacing as he realized he had awoken on dirt of all things. He rose with dignity even as he had to brush the dirt off his trousers—already cursing underneath his breath. Where in Merlin's name was—

"I said you shouldn't be here," there was a bit of imperiousness to the brat's tone this time. Tom tilted his head upwards to find a young girl sitting on a branch of a giant banyan tree—it was difficult to see how old she was considering how high up she sat as well as the fact that she was carrying a large tome almost bigger than her torso.

He had been lying in between its roots when the girl's voice had woken him. The tree itself was an earthen brown, covered in moss that ranged from a brilliant emerald to a strange lichen black. The air itself was damp, much like just after a rainfall. "Why are you here?"

Last he remembered he had been in the infirmary using Legilimency to view Patil's memories until he had been pulled here— the girl was likely a figment of Patil's mind. Tom frowned, gripping Maloney's wand with enough strength to nearly crack the wood. He had done his reading on Legilimency, of course, and had always been careful not to venture deeper into his prey's mind considering how easy it was to break someone's mind like a thinly-shelled egg. Not that Tom had cared overly much but it was a bit more difficult to hide the damage if they suddenly started drooling everywhere. But this, this had never happened before.

While he could likely use Maloney's wand to force his way out of her mind, there was a very strong chance that Patil's mind could trap him here. Something was anchoring his consciousness inside her mind—likely whatever had drawn him here in the first place—and until he found it he could be stuck here indefinitely. Tom had quickly learned a certain degree of cautiousness for strange magic considering the events of the past twenty-four hours and decided he needed to thoroughly investigate before attempting an escape.

"I can't quite see you," Tom lied making sure to use every inch of his charm, "and I'm not sure where I am. I'm lost, you see. Could you help me?" He flexed his grip on the wand.

The tree groaned suddenly and Tom realized that its many branches were actually moving with purpose. A large branch lowered and he took a closer look at the young girl. She was small, likely eight or so if the children at Wool's were anything to compare her to, and her twin plaits moved as she cocked her head to look at him. She had a large red tome in her lap though she was still too far away for Tom to read its title.

"You're lost?" Her voice rose in surprise. "But that's dangerous!"

The leaves in the banyan tree continued to rustle. Tom grit his teeth, his body tense as he answered, "Yes, unfortunately. Would you be so kind?"

He didn't trust the tree. If he had his own wand, he had no doubt he'd make short work of it and soon it would just be a pile of ash but Maloney's wand was just as likely to burn him. Considering the circumstances, it was best to save fire as a last resort.

She frowned for a moment as she nervously tapped the cover of the book. "Oh, I know!" Her face brightened as her smile revealed missing teeth. "I'll send you to her!"

Her? Perhaps she meant Patil's conscious form?

"That would be helpful." Tom gave her a gracious nod.

The girl nodded as she knocked three times on the tree branch she was sitting on. It made a strange hollow noise almost like a bell ringing and the sound practically vibrated in the air. A root nearby cracked as it rose from the ground and awkwardly twisted itself into a semicircle.

"There! Just go through that and it'll take you to her."

Tom had his reservations considering he could see through the arch the root had created and it looked completely ordinary. His jaw worked as he stifled a sigh. Everything with Patil had to be childish, he supposed.

"Much thanks," he gifted the child another smile before walking briskly towards the makeshift doorway. He allowed himself to pause for a moment before carefully leaning in and then disappearing.

The banyan tree began to creak loudly. The girl's smile dropped as she patted the branch. "She'll get rid of him, you'll see." The tree groaned again much to her displeasure. "Here, forget about him, I'll read you another story."

Tom stepped out onto the familiar roughly hewn floors of Hogwarts—it was captured so perfectly that for a moment he nearly forgot that he was actually still in Patil's mind. He found himself in the hallway near the Transfiguration Classroom. The halls were eerily quiet when he observed further and even the portraits were acting strangely. They didn't even bother to try to speak to him rather choosing to instead run to different portraits or conceal themselves within their landscapes. Tom couldn't recall a moment that he'd ever seen them do that before. Most times he regarded them as mere decorations but the sheer fear from their eyes unsettled him.

He walked further noticing the large gashes in the walls which exposed broken brick and dust and ash. The air itself was foul as well, thick with ash and metallic smell—something sulfur and perhaps iron. Multiple destructive spells, enough to nearly tear clean through the walls in some places, revealing empty and dusty classrooms. Something had tried to destroy the castle with mixed success. Tom's belly tightened in disgust, it reminded him too much of the shattered buildings and sheer devastation that resulted from the air-raids. Entire streets just obliterated. This had to be Patil's memories—something would come to Hogwarts and try to destroy it—try to snatch it from him.

His steps echoed through the hallway, causing his body to tense further. Maloney's wand stayed outstretched in his hand as he kept his mind diligent and alert for sudden movements. Living in the orphanage as well as subsequently conquering Slytherin house had long forced Tom to hone an instinct for such things. There were eyes watching him—eyes that didn't belong to the portraits. He cast a wordless silencio on his feet so that his footfalls gradually became quieter and quieter. It would be foolish to draw further attention to himself.

He moved quickly and carefully, trying to ensure that his back was never fully exposed as he walked through the corridors. He wasn't exactly certain where he was supposed to find Patil but he found himself gingerly moving to the location of the library. If this was truly a reflection of her mind and if she was as much as a swot as he thought she was, he'd likely find her there. It was, at least, the best place to start.

The Grand Staircase was thankfully still functioning but when he stepped off onto the third floor, he shifted his feet quickly so as to avoid the blood that was pooling on the floors. It was coming from the stone walls, trickling down and staining the portraits in a mockery of bright red paint. Certainly macabre, Tom noted dryly. But he assumed that a warzone would have more bodies than just empty hallways full of blood and cowering portraits.

Nonetheless, he remained vigilant and paused slightly as he realized there was a soft rattling noise coming from a nearby door. The door itself was otherwise unremarkable, painted similarly to the wallpaper in an attempt to hide in plain sight. Tom was not a coward but he was also cautious. He had not noticed any windows in his trek down the stairs or the hallways, a detail that unsettled him as the doorknob continued to shake. He held Maloney's wand in his hand, considering as—

The door opened just a crack, revealing a quarter of a round face and a single red-rimmed eye. He knew that eye—that was Patil's eye watching him from the other side of the narrow opening, her eye swollen from tears.

"Y-you shouldn't be here." Her voice trembled, sounding hoarse from over-use. "They'll find you. You need to hide."

Tom's eyes narrowed as he asked, "Who will find me?"

Despite the fact that he could not fully see her face it was obvious that she shook her head before attempting to withdraw into the closet. Tom stuck out a hand, holding the door so that she could not shut it completely. He allowed himself to ask once more, "Who will find me?"

This forced her into a small panic and she nearly started crying again as he felt her throw her entire weight behind the door, trying once again to close it.

"Why are you doing this?" She pleaded, her voice straining to remain a whisper.

"Tell me," Tom's voice was hard, "or I'll blast this door down."

His words thoroughly startled her and Tom nearly stumbled through the door as Patil completely pulled back. She was in Hogwarts robes, cowering behind several mops and brooms—admittedly strangely dull things to find within a magical school let alone a witch's mind—and by her stature and round face she looked no more than twelve perhaps but it was difficult for Tom to tell, the younger students all looked disturbingly small. This was likely not Patil's conscious form, probably just another impression of a memory of sort like the other one he'd met. At least this one was slightly older, perhaps he was getting closer.

She looked at him with large watery eyes as though she might burst into tears again and Tom found himself sneering in disgust. He never did like the sniveling of the younger children at the orphanage—especially the newly orphaned who still bemoaned the loss of their families. Just as Tom was about to open his mouth, however, a howl resounded through the castle and then several more erupted in sync.

Werewolves inside the castle? That should have been impossible but he was inside Patil's mind, of course, logic wasn't necessarily a requirement. The young Patil bolted, pushing him aside with surprising strength as she very nearly flew out the door of the broom cupboard like an owl set aflame.

Tom blinked, surely Patil's mind wouldn't truly conjure werewolves. Just a childish fear, likely, belonging more to a storybook than actual fact. He walked out of the broom cupboard, wand alight in his hand and decided to venture out and press on to the library. The younger Patil was gone; he couldn't even hear her footfalls despite the fact that she had ran away. Almost as though she had disappeared into the walls. He did not allow himself to be unsettled as he forced himself to focus—the library should only be a few more paces away and then he could find Patil and end this farce.

But as he turned the corridor, he was met with a wall of solid stone instead of the entrance of the library. Written on the stone (in blood of course because Patil's mind had to keep up with the theme) was a single line: "Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever."

Her skeleton? Did that mean Patil's skeleton? Was he viewing another memory or was this just another imagined nightmare? The Ravenclaw's mind was more morbid than he initially expected. He even tapped the stone with Maloney's wand as though to test whether Patil's mind would have created another mirror to hid the damned library from him but alas it remained steadfast and firm.

Tom stalked back to the stairs, footfalls heavy with frustration. Of course, nothing would that bloody simple. He stood on the stairs, pondering his next move as he caught sight of a figure on a different staircase moving in the opposite direction. The figure was dressed in bright turquoise robes trimmed in gold that sparkled under the candlelight of the large chandeliers overhead. It was Patil or at least another version of her. She was taller and likely older as well, dressed in expensive robes meant more for a ball rather than to attend classes or go to Hogsmeade. She seemed harried, judging by the frown on her lips and the nervous way she tapped the railing with her fingernails.

He found himself wanting to call out to her, just to confirm whether this was the real Patil or just another figment of her mind. And yet he found his mouth firmly shut, voice trapped in his own throat as he watched her frantically walk towards Ravenclaw tower with her skirt swishing as though she had hounds at her heels.

The trance broke and he quickly changed staircases, cursing when he realized he would have to wait for a particular staircase to swing back around so he could make it to Ravenclaw tower. The entrance to the Ravenclaw common room wasn't overly difficult to locate, in fact, he'd found the Knocker by chance one day while during Christmas holidays in his very first year. He had been surprised when the Knocker had given him a riddle to solve and was willing to allow him entrance so as long as he answered correctly. He had thought Ravenclaws foolish then and he still did—what use was a guard if it would just let anyone inside? How utterly moronic.

There was a firm frown on his face as stalked towards the entrance but he stopped mid-step as he heard a dull grating noise as though someone was dragging their untrimmed nails along a blackboard. It was coming from the hallway where the Knocker was located, just outside the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room. Tom shifted his head, positioning himself so most of his body was hidden by the corner of the corridor.

A figure stood perhaps close to seven feet tall, hirsute, and used their long yellow nails to rip at the stone and the Knocker. Werewolf, Tom's mind whispered in disbelief. Up until this point he had never seen anyone else in Patil's mind except copies of herself but there stood a werewolf half-transformed violently ripping at walls with awe-inducing strength.

This was just a memory, Tom told himself as he readjusted his grip on Maloney's wand. Even as the werewolf snarled and took hold of the door knocker and tried to rip it out the talons of the eagle. The eagle itself remained silent, not voicing a single sound of distress even as the bronze began to twist from the creature's grip.

Tom silently cast a Disillusionment charm on himself, biting his tongue as he felt the spell trickle over his skin. Not entirely ideal but he needed to distract the creature to gain access to Ravenclaw tower and while it was likely just another memory—Tom was not too keen on finding out how an injury in Patil's mind would translate to the physical world. If he was unlucky it'd send him back half-witted like Flint on a good day.

If he had his wand he would have conjured an animal—likely a rabbit, something fast that would invoke the werewolf's baser instincts to chase prey—but Maloney's wand still felt frail in his hands. Even the Disillusionment charm had caused the wand to physically tremble in his grip as though unused to the complex charm. Figured that a wand belonging to a nitwit would be just as useless as its owner. It led credence to the common saying 'the wand chooses the wizard.' When Tom made it out of Patil's mind, his first and foremost goal was to get his own wand back into his custody. He was never going to allow himself to lose it again—Dumbledore, the Ministry be damned.

So Tom settled for something simpler though crude. He cast a Bombarda at one of the chandeliers hanging over the network of staircases, the sound and resulting crash loud enough to draw the Werewolf's attention. The creature paused, standing up on its hind legs and sniffed deeply. Despite his faith in his own magic, Tom felt sweat on the back of his neck. It opened its human maw to reveal jagged, yellowing teeth and a long black tongue before stalking down the hallway on all four limbs; its gait leisurely predatory.

Tom allowed himself to inhale once he watched the creature go down the stairs and he carefully turned the corner to face the destroyed door knocker. Patil had a werewolf loose in her mind that was actively destroying her memories. It seemed to explain her almost nonexistent attention span. He removed the charm with a nonverbal finite incantatem, and studied the knocker as it continued to remain silent. How was he supposed to enter the tower now that the werewolf had destroyed it? It was even no longer capable of its ordinary function as twisted as the bronze now was.

Another dead end, Tom's expression soured. At this rate, it felt as though he was going to be stuck in Patil's mind for ages. Perhaps it was time to start blasting things until he found an exit. Brute force had always served his wandless magic well even if he never had much use for it once he had learned spells. Sure the entrance to Ravenclaw tower was likely heavily enchanted in the physical world but he doubted that in Patil's mind it would hold up to the same muster. Even if he had to tear the tower apart brick by brick, he would find her and return back to his own body. Even if it left Patil no better than a mindless corpse.

Just as he raised Maloney's wand, however, a deep discordant moaning filled the hallway. What followed next was not quite footsteps so much as the rattling of bones stumbling over solid stone, much like a puppet learning how to walk. Tom felt his throat tighten, he had read about them of course. Studied them extensively as fascinated as he was but he almost couldn't believe the crowd of Inferi that was hobbling up the staircase straight towards him. They stalked towards him on broken limbs, eyes wretchedly white and their pale skin stretched taut over brittle bone. Tom found himself with his back pressed against the eagle knocker, suddenly forced into a corner. There were too many of them—some of the quicker ones even crawling on top of the backs of others in their haste to reach him.

Fire was the only thing to stop an inferius. Fiendfyre, preferably, but with Maloney's blasted wand Tom doubted that particular spell would even spark. The Inferi were likely what the other Patil meant when she had warned him earlier. Fire poured out of the wand as he cast a silent incendio—the flame itself was almost blue in color in its brightness. Hopefully enough to melt bone or at least render it to ash. But even as diligently as Tom worked to keep the flame bright and hot, he felt Maloney's wand begin to sputter in his grip. Blasted fucking wand—

Tom pushed his magic, gritting his teeth as he felt his grip become slick with sweat. He held his breath because the smell of burning Inferi was enough to make him gag if he allowed himself to focus on it—Patil had likely faced the same group of Inferi if this was simply another one of her memories though he himself was beginning to doubt it. Of course, he had to fall into the one witch's mind infested with dark creatures.

He felt the wall behind him buckle as though the walls itself could not bear the weight of all these dark creatures piling into one space. Distantly, he heard the creaking of metal despite the fact that it was difficult to concentrate on anything besides the din of moaning from the inferi.

He very nearly dropped the wand as he felt a hand grip his shoulder and pull him backward, causing him to stumble back into the gaping light as he watched the wall rebuild itself as the inferi began to claw closer.

Despite the fact that he had passed through the entrance to Ravenclaw tower, it was very clear that Tom was no longer within the castle. No, they were somehow now outside in the bright sun walking amidst the clouds as birds flew overhead by the dozens. Tom paused as he observed further, no they weren't birds but rather books flying around flapping their covers like makeshift wings. Utterly nonsensical but otherwise harmless. If he strained his hearing, he could still hear the Inferi screaming in the distance.

Tom whipped around, smoke still streaming off of Maloney's wand as he retorted, "And I suppose you simply had to wait until the Inferi arrived to invite me in?"

"Are you always this charming or do you do this for all the girls you use Legilimency on?" Patil asked dryly as she folded her arms. This one at least resembled her conscious form complete with the monstrously frilly robes and the tinge of superiority in her tone. There was a faint sense of relief that Tom had difficulty admitting to feeling as he caught sight of her alert eyes. The other doppelgangers had the vaguest sense of confusion whenever they interacted with him as though they weren't certain why he was here in the first place. "I'd be more than willing to push you back out."

Tom smiled ruefully, Patil truly tested his limits like no other. He had never been caught so flatfooted before but he refused to give up any ground; he would win. "Careful Patil because as I remember it I still possess the wand." The moment he left her mind and was back in his body, he was going to Obliviate her and then cast Imperius, surely that would yield him immediate results.

She considered his words coolly as a gentle breeze swept over them. "Maybe but we're inside my mind as I recall." Her eyes were sharp and alert. "You'll need my help to leave even if you didn't need it to enter."

Patil didn't seem the slightest bit afraid of him or the wand in his hand, choosing to step forward even as he kept it pointed to her person. Patil's eyes were dark and daring and it sent a thrill up Tom's spine. They burned into his even as the tip of Maloney's wand pressed into the bows on the bodice of her ridiculous robes. A spell at this range would be devastating even if he cast something as gentle as Rictusempra, it could potentially force her into a laughing fit strong enough to crack her ribs.

"Did you find what you were looking for then?" Patil asked, her voice low and mocking. "I do hope that it was enough to sate your curiosity."

He had never met a witch so audacious before but her eyes held a confidence so assured that he could not dare to call her reckless. This was not stubbornness nor mere arrogance, no this went beyond that. Patil was certain of her victory and for a moment Tom envied her. He had been trying to embody that force of will and here this witch did it so effortlessly.

Tom's pulse in his throat jumped; it felt as though his blood was roaring in spite and heartily stoked ire. What he had found was that this witch was half-mad and utterly aggravating. Her mind full of secrets of the future but yet empty of any real value.

He knew he had to be careful even as much as he desperately wanted to cast a Bone-Breaking Hex at point-blank range the potential effects of pain on Patil's mind could prove destabilizing. Tom did not want to end up trapped in Patil's mind for the rest of his days—he had plans to execute, people to find, power to grab. So he would be prudent but there was no reason for him to be kind.

"Incarcerous."

"And how long have they been like this?" Augusta asked Dumbledore as she examined their two lost wards from a safe distance. The pair were standing near the window as though completely frozen in time, their expressions vacant and unseeing. At first glance, they almost seemed petrified but they had someone retained their coloring—Patil and Riddle were certainly still alive even if their chests were unmoving.

"I am unsure of the exact duration but no more than 15 minutes since you arrived." The older wizard was grave in his expression and Augusta still felt a bit awkward talking to him like this—Dumbledore had been her Transfiguration professor nearly twelve years ago—and it was difficult to speak with him as a peer rather than a student.

"And you haven't disturbed them?" Lovegood asked. He was the only one who dared to venture closer to the pair in that he stood a mere two steps away. Augusta wasn't certain how he managed that considering even from this distance she could feel their magic crackling and the strong smell of ozone. Her own magic was deeply unsettled and it made her want to edge towards the entrance of the infirmary rather than venture any closer.

"No that seemed rather ill-advised." Augusta couldn't fault Dumbledore, it felt eerie seeing them frozen like that even as their magic felt as though they were actively casting.

"No time anomalies," Croaker spoke out gruffly as he reviewed the data he'd collected with his Sundial. "Least we have one less thing to worry about."

"We should move them," Birch suggested. "The ambient magic of the castle might be heightening the reaction."

"Nonono," Lovegood quickly replied as he shook his head. "Introducing additional magic at this stage might tip the scales."

"Well, you certainly can't be suggesting just leaving them here, Phileas."

"Anything else strange?" Augusta pressed, ignoring the fact that the two were having yet another row. If they were to have another incident inside the castle—

"None that I noticed." Dumbledore sighed. "St. Deicolus stated the two had just been talking until they fell into a sort of trance." He gestured to the portrait which hung over the Mediwitch's office. The old hermit in the portrait merely shrugged in response to Augusta's cursory glance.

"Utterly fascinating," Lovegood continued. "It's as though they're warping magic around themselves almost like a shield!"

"Or a cocoon," Birch quietly suggested.

Lovegood abruptly turned to face his colleague, expression unusually serious as he nodded. "A transformation, or rather, a metamorphosis. Perhaps this is a natural development of their bond."

"There is nothing natural about this," Croaker asserted tersely.

"On the contrary, my dear Saul, some would in fact argue that this is a soul's natural state of being. That all souls would develop a bond like this so as long as certain criteria are met." Lovegood was calm even as he continued to wave his wand around the pair as a small ticker tape in the corner continued to spew out figures and symbols on long streams of parchment.

"Just so that I'm understanding correctly, neither of you have any clue of what's going on then?" Augusta hedged a guess.

Croaker blustered as Lovegood cheerfully responded, "Certainly not! It's all terribly exciting."

Rather than a large concentrated cluster of thick ropes, Maloney's wand burst into confetti as though Tom had just pulled a Christmas cracker rather than cast a spell. Suddenly the reason for Patil's irritating confidence became overwhelmingly obvious.

"You've never practiced Occlumency, have you?" Patil asked. "Magic works a bit different in the mind, it's the reason why Mind Magicks are so difficult to master in the first place."

She was an Occlumens, of course. Tom swore loudly and colorfully, mouth as rank as any drunk he'd heard on the street. Patil looked amused but that hard look in her eyes didn't waver.

He now only had his wits at his disposal and perhaps his charm as well though that was bit dicier considering Patil knew he had attempted to look at her memories. Wits then and sheer force of will. Even if he was in Patil's mind, he was certain that he would find a way to come out on top.

"No," Tom answered honestly. "Legilimency seemed more useful." Not to mention that he possessed a natural talent for it.

"It's actually rather remarkable how you've managed this far without a teacher," Patil commented. "Even more remarkable that you haven't managed to get caught." Her unspoken until now rankled him.

"Hogwarts does not offer a course so I made do." He half-smiled, venom dripping from his lips.

Patil sighed, her expression looked rather downcast for someone who had the figurative upperhand. It wasn't like she was trapped in his mind, after all. "Look I know you don't trust me and I certainly don't have any reason to trust you but there's something I need to show you. I think it's the reason why you fell into my mind even when you were just trying to do a cursory sweep of my memories."

She was correct, he certainly didn't trust her. But nothing about her expression indicated a lie and besides, why would she have any reason to do so? Maloney's wand was now just glitter and shiny bits of paper and he had no real access to the actual wand in here.

"Lead the way," he stated tersely as though he was allowing her to do so on his command.

Patil led him further into the open space and he followed sedately behind her, noticing that the clouds began to recede and gave way to moist, fertile soil. Not mud, exactly, no it was firmer than that and uneven with stone and unearthed roots. Alive in a way that the small victory garden of the orphanage never managed to be. Soil that knew it would absorb everything above in due time.

The roots grew larger and more concentrated—his eyes tracing them back to the large banyan tree he had first encountered in Patil's mind. It loomed giant in the distance, much larger than he recalled. But there was also something else that he didn't remember noticing the first time round.

"What is that?" Tom asked, watching diligently as a large silver serpent wove itself in and out of the banyan tree's roots and branches. The snake itself was growing larger in size the longer he remained staring at it. Its scales shined against the dark backdrop of the tree, twisting and curving until it became almost indistinguishable from the tree itself.

"Don't you recognize it, Riddle?" Patil asked, she too was watching the serpent with rapt attention. "That's your magic."

A/N: not edited; I'll likely add my notes at a later time but this already standing at 7.5k so... Wishing everyone safety and health in these strange, strange times. Would love to hear your thoughts about everything. It's a weird chapter that I was a little unsure about.