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A Certain Duty | | Author: | EliasOsiris | | Genre: | General | | Rating: | G | | Score: | 4.84615   | | Story: | Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction does not receive any compensation. The people and places are property of JK Rowling.
A Certain Duty
Evil, when we are in its power, is not felt as evil, but as a necessity, even a duty. Simone Weil
Tom Riddle sat small and quiet. The chair’s splintered caning scratched and bit into his back. Dirt grimed office windows, jammed shut against the late spring air made the room stifling with sharp smells of perspiration, dirt, and a trace of old gin. Dust rose in spiraling little waves on incoming shafts of sunlight. He watched the movement of one such ray sweep across the scarred wooden floor until it struck him square in the face. Nothing happened back there he thought irritably, nothing. His mouth felt full of old cotton, his shoulders itched terribly. Raising his hand the chair shrieked. Quickly he resumed his position, he didn’t want to be blamed for yet another disaster. He certainly didn’t want to attract any untoward attention. Please, he thought, let’s just get this over with. He heard footsteps and gripped the chair a little tighter. They sounded plodding like the matron’s, Mrs. Cole. A key scraped in the lock, a doorknob turned, heavy footsteps, and then a shadow long and thin appeared before him. He didn’t turn around. She hated him and wasn’t going to believe anything he had to say. He hadn’t done anything to Dennis Bishop and certainly not to Amy Benson, nothing at all. The shadow moved around the room, straightening this, moving that. Finally it stopped.
“Alright Tom,” said a strained voice “tell me what you did.”
“I’ve already told you. I didn’t do anything.”
An underfed cat-like face, pinched and mean came into view. “Well, you must have done something”, it hissed.
Tom looked into that face. He took a breath and focused very hard on those disbelieving eyes. His voice was calm, controlled. He felt a familiar tingling in his skin.
“I didn’t do anything to Amy or Dennis, we were just exploring the caves. There were a lot of bats and an old drunk. They got scared so I brought them back.”
“Oh, so they just got scared by a bunch of bats?”
“And an old drunk.” Focus he told himself, focus.
“Are you sure you didn’t put any funny ideas into their heads about those bats?”
“No.” Keep looking at her eyes. He could feel the tingling grow stronger.
“You didn’t fill their heads with scary stories like you do here every night?”
“No.” cried Tom jumping up, his focus now broken. Reading to the orphans every night wasn’t supposed to frighten any of them, it was supposed to take them away from this dreary place. Each night he exchanged their dull, dreary existence for that of Captain Nemo’s, or Jim Hawkins’, or Tarzan’s. Everyone liked it. They all looked forward to it, even Mrs. Cole. It was the only time anyone wanted to be around him at all. Mrs. Cole squeezed up her face.
“Well something happened”, she snapped advancing on him.
Tom sat quietly staring up at her. Nothing, he thought but the focus, the control was gone.
“You weren’t supposed to go into the caves.” She glared at him. His face was blank but he was concentrating very hard again. He felt the cold tingling beneath his skin. Staring into her face he saw her eyes go slightly blank.
“No supper for you tonight”, she barked at last. “Well go on, get out of here.”
Without so much as a backward glance he walked out of her office.
His room was dark and quiet when he got there. His stomach grumbled with hunger but he ignored it, he would have to, again. Without bothering to turn on the lights he quickly dressed for bed. A cheap brass compass bounced onto the bed. He closed his fingers around it. In the darkness he thought about what had happened that day and how it went so terribly wrong.
Rosy dawn nudged the orphans awake nearly an hour earlier than usual. Excitement was running high at the prospect of the annual trip to the seashore.
“Come on Tomcat, out of bed!” cried a mousey hair little boy. He skipped away backwards, laughing. Tom gritted his teeth. Stupid brat he thought. The sounds of someone stumbling and their accompanying howls filled the hall. Tom looked at his hands. They felt still. He shook his head and stood up. Together with the other children he filed down the hallway for breakfast. Mrs. Cole was in her usual state of frenzy. He took his usual place at the very end of a long table and watched as the rest of the children tried to avoid sitting near him. He watched them point and heard their whisperings. His hands tensed on his cup. Leave me alone he thought. This time it was a pug faced little boy forced to sit opposite him. The boy kept both hands on his food, never once taking his eyes off of Tom. The boy’s suspicion and distrust were written on his face; Tom glared at him. The boy suddenly shoved the entire piece of bread in his mouth and slopping more cocoa on his face than in his mouth, scurried off. Tom smirked. He then looked down at the curly blond cherub next to him. His smirk faded as robin’s egg blue eyes smiled up at him. He couldn’t resist one small smile for Amy. Mrs. Cole continued bustling about.
“Hurry up, hurry up,” she barked, “we’ll miss the train.”
Together with the other children he trooped down in the pre-dawn darkness to the train station. He felt himself being jostled towards the front of the line, which was fine with him. Squeezing themselves into as few compartments as possible the long ride to the seashore began. Tom tried ignoring the whining around him. Even on the train no one wanted to be next to old Tom or weird Tom or Tomcat or whatever they were calling him this week. Was it his fault that bad things tended to happen to people who picked on him? It’s not fair he thought. I’ve never done anything to any of them. At one point he even believed Mrs. Cole would make him stay at the orphanage, alone. The door to the compartment opened and Mrs. Cole brought, or rather threw nearly a half a dozen children in with him. After a few angry and irritated looks were exchanged the children reluctantly took their seats. Tom sat against one of the windows with four-year-old Amy Benson in his lap. Her silver blond curls tickled his neck as she excitedly called out every new sight as it passed. Tom’s arms came up protectively around her. Most of the older children had younger ones sitting on their laps. Tom ignored all the pointless chatter that had resumed around him. The compartment door again pushed open. Tom looked up and groaned inwardly. Dark brown eyes from amidst a mass of freckles grinned broadly. Tom looked out the window. Go away, he thought. The mischievous face at the door hesitated. That’s right, Tom thought just go away. He felt that strange tingling in his skin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy’s face go slack.
“Hey Dennis,” one of the girls in the compartment called out hopefully, “come on, join us!” The freckled face snapped back.
Tom glared as Dennis squeezed in close to the door. The cheerful round face glowed with pride. He pulled a small dented compass from his pocket.
“We’re headed north” he proclaimed knowledgably. “I know this beach”, he added. “My dad used to take me their all the time.”
Oh shut up, thought Tom. Just shut up about your dad, and the sea, and how you’re going to leave when he gets back.
“When is your dad going to get back?” asked a thin boy with straw colored hair.
“I’m not sure,” started Dennis, “he’s somewhere in the Pacific right now on a whaling ship.”
A whaling ship, thought Tom, oh that’s rich. Tom sneered. Dennis had not heard from his father for more than two years. Face it thought Tom, your dad’s not coming back. You’re an orphan just like the rest of us. His arms tightened around Amy. Either your parents abandoned you like Amy’s or they’re dead, like mine.
“Tom, you’re squeezing me too hard!” squeaked little Amy.
Tom looked down at the pretty little girl. Tom couldn’t understand how her mother just dropped her off at the orphanage one afternoon like so much baggage. For nearly two years Amy ran to the window every morning waiting for her mother to come back. In the beginning Tom found a cruel humor in her actions but after the days turned into months he felt a bitter guilt. He marveled at the childlike love and faith Amy had for her mother even when it must have been obvious, even to her that she had been abandoned. He had never known feelings like that. Amy was looking up at him. Reflexively he smiled down at her. She returned his smile and relaxed back against him. He leaned back into his seat and wondered when the other children would get tired of listening to Dennis’ rambling. Dennis had launched into yet another fanciful story about his father. The other children leaned forward excitedly. Ignoring Dennis’ story of pirate ships, ghosts, and buried treasure he watched as the scenery gradually slid from city into country.
All too soon the train was jostling to a stop and Mrs. Cole came banging down the aisle calling for everyone to collect their things and get out. There was a quick scramble for the door. Amy gripped tightly Tom’s hand as they all tumbled out.
The horizon stretched blue and cloudless. The ocean was dotted with small whitecaps crashing on the breakers. Overhead there was the kree kree of seagulls. Tom breathed deeply the sea air. It smelled of salt and sand. The sun felt warm on his face. Quickly, he stooped and stripped off shoes and socks, and rolled up his pant legs so he could walk in the surf. He wriggled his toes into the still cool sand. The ocean was crashing softly against the shore. He stared at the endless horizon. The sea breeze lifted his hair slightly. All at once he was Captain Nemo standing on the deck of his Nautilus. One day, he thought, like Nemo, I’ll be free. He sighed, one day he thought.
“Spring tides”, Dennis announced loudly jostling Tom out of his daydream. “The tide will be lower. We’ll be able to go out to the sandbars and look for shells or explore the caves.”
Amy looked up at Tom. “Could we explore the caves?” she asked pleadingly.
“Oh Amy, why do you want to go into some dark, damp cave?” he responded. “You can look for stuff on the sandbars instead.”
“We might find treasure!” she replied enthusiastically.
“Amy, there is no buried treasure here. Just a lot of rocks and caves with bats in them.” He flapped his arms for her and made a funny face.
“You’re wrong Riddle”, came a squeaky voice. “My dad told me pirates often hid their treasure in these caves. There’s a king’s ransom out here.”
“Bishop, there’s nothing out here except a lot of rocks, seagulls, and bats. Anyway, the old lady said to stay away from the rocks.”
“You’re just afraid. Come on Amy, I’ll take you. Your Tom cat is a scaredy cat.”
Tom’s eyes narrowed menacingly. Right, I’m the one who’s afraid he thought.
“Alright, you show us” he prompted.
Dennis again pulled the old and dented compass from his pocket. Pointing vaguely north he said,
“That direction.” Gathering up their shoes they headed out across the beach. The other beachgoers were soon out of sight. The three of them spent the better part of an hour searching the rocks for some sign of a cave but to no avail. Why do I let myself do this, he thought. The sun was hot across the back of his neck. A few seagulls flapped their wings noisily overhead. His eyes followed them across the sky and past the rocks. Still low in the sky the sun struck the rocks with golden daggers. He stared at the rock face unblinkingly.
“There’s your pirate’s cave Bishop”, exclaimed Tom haughtily.
“Where?” Dennis was looking in every direction.
“Right in front of you, what are you blind?” Tom couldn’t believe that standing a mere ten feet from the cave’s opening Dennis couldn’t see it.
“I still don’t see it.”
“Honestly Bishop, it’s hard to believe you’re descended from helmsmen if you can’t see what’s right under your nose. See”, Tom said grabbing him and pointing, “there’s even a mark on the cave.” Tom clearly saw the words GOREY marked on the cave with some symbols. Dennis was nearly standing in the cave mouth before he saw anything.
“I don’t see any marks, just a lot of cracks and watermarks”, Dennis replied at last. Tom sighed. You’re blind he thought, and you can’t read. What next? Amy was studying the cave entrance very carefully.
“You see it, don’t you Amy”, said Tom softly. Amy’s eyes were screwed up with concentration, her tongue just peeking out of her mouth. Raising her hand as high as possible she traced out the lowest symbol she could reach.
“A little”, she said at last. Well, thought Tom, you don’t know how to read yet but at least you’ve got eyes. Looking up at Tom she gripped his hand a little more tightly. He tenderly smiled down at her.
“Come on”, he said pulling her with just a trace of irritation. The cave was gloomy, but not dark. Water dripped down the sides. Tom heard the squeaking of bats and the scrabbling of many small animals. He made to step over a puddle when the hand holding Amy was yanked back.
“What now?” he asked angrily looking back. He was standing ankle deep in muck now. Both Amy and Dennis were looking nervously over their shoulders.
“Shouldn’t we be getting back?” asked Dennis “it must be nearly lunchtime.”
“Bishop, we just got here. See, the sun is still low. It’s nowhere near lunchtime. Didn’t your father teach you to tell time by the sun?”
Dennis pulled an ugly face. “Leave my father out of this.”
“Well come on then.” He took a few more steps but again, his hand was yanked back.
“I think I left my shoes on the sand”, Amy pleaded.
“Me too”, agreed Dennis.
“Shoes?” Tom looked at them with surprise and disgust. “You two wanted to explore these caves and now you’re worried about shoes? Your shoes are fine, don’t you remember? You left them high on the rocks.”
“There might be rabid bats in here”, stated Dennis flatly. “My grandfather once told me that you can get rabies from a bat bite. You foam at the mouth and go mad and …”
“Look Bishop, if you’re afraid, we can go back.”
“I’m afraid”, squeaked Amy. Tom looked down at her and squeezed her hand gently.
“Don’t be afraid Amy”, he said softly, “I won’t let anything or anyone harm you.” He glared into Dennis’ face.
“I’m not afraid”, mumbled Dennis unconvincingly. The three walked on in silence. Was it his imagination, Tom thought, or were the bats turning to look at them? He decided Amy’s and Dennis’ fears were starting to affect him.
The walls of the caves were smooth and covered with runes and pictures of some sort. There was a rabbit, something that looked like a dodo, an egg with a face on it, and something that looked like a cross between a cactus and a chicken. Tom felt that he should understand what they meant but he didn’t. It was if their meaning was just beyond his understanding or it was something he’d known a long time ago but forgotten. Whatever he thought of Dennis and his stories he’d been right about this cave. Someone had used it but Tom was fairly sure it wasn’t pirates. He looked down at his two companions. Curious, he thought, why aren’t they interested with the drawings? They were very impressive. He could hardly keep his eyes off them. A strange thought suddenly struck him, an absurd thought. Maybe Dennis and Amy couldn’t see what he could. Maybe he really was special and could see things that other people couldn’t see like Mozart could hear things ordinary people couldn’t. Or maybe he was, like everyone said, a little weird. Nonsense he thought, Dennis was simple minded and Amy was just afraid. He looked down at her again and patted her head.
“What’s up there?” Dennis cried out. The tunnel was definitely growing brighter. They entered what looked like a brightly lit alcove. A series of gours festooned one wall. Tom held his breath, he had never seen anything so beautiful. The water splashing down into the terraced basins kept up a steady rhythm, one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen. He knew that pattern. Suddenly, he couldn’t explain how, he felt he understood the carvings on the walls leading up to this cavern. Excitement overtook him. This is incredible he thought as he stared at the basins. I understand this. He let go of Amy’s hand and walked forward. He stretched out his hand to touch the largest stone basin.
“Please Tom,” whined Amy wringing her hands, “let’s go back. Now.” He ignored her focusing instead on the splashing rhythms.
“Come on Riddle”, came a louder whine, “I’ve seen enough.” Tom wasn’t listening; his fingers caressed the water. The splashing changed. The light seemed a little brighter too.
“Can’t you two see anything?” he snarled tracing out the runes engraved on the lowest basin. “Can’t you hear anything?”
“Sure, I see a lot of dirty water dripping onto some broken rocks. I hear a lot of filthy bats. There’s nothing here, we’re leaving”, cried Dennis. Tom could hear a note of panic in his voice. He heard Amy’s sniffles. Out of the corner of his eye Tom watched as Dennis grabbed Amy’s hand and started pulling her back into the tunnel. Run away you frightened little rabbits he thought, swirling his left hand in the water. He stared deeply into the basin. More runes swam into focus. Concentrating, he realized he could change the pattern of the splashing water. He could even change its color. He smiled to himself, the slithy toves gyre and gimble in the wabe, he thought. Yes they certainly do. It was Amy’s frightened scream that broke his focus. Water slopped over the basin rim. What was Dennis doing to her he thought angrily as he spun round splashing more water onto himself. Angrily, he dashed back into the gloomy tunnel. He nearly collided with Dennis after a dozen steps. Someone was blocking the exit.
“What are you brats doing here?” demanded a raspy voice.
No one spoke. Tom felt Dennis grab the back of his shirt, Amy pressed closer to him.
“Well?” came the hoarse voice again. A man emerged into the thin light. At first glance Tom thought the man was some kind of beach wanderer. His short choppy hair was streaked with grey, his face puffy and flushed. He wore mismatched clothes that in addition to being ripped and torn were very dirty. Tom noticed he wasn’t especially tall, only about a head taller than himself but there was a sinister look in his bloodshot eyes. He held a short stick aloft. Its tip glowed brilliantly. The man’s leering eyes traveled over all three of them stopping to linger on Amy. Tom heard Dennis whimpering softly behind him. The tramp chuckled. Tom drew himself up to his full height. He glared at the man.
“Welcome to my parlor”, rasped a dark voice. With that the stranger pointed the stick at them and whispered
“Serpensortia!”
Dozens of long black snakes suddenly appeared around them. The air was soon thick with their hissing. Tom felt Dennis’ nails bite into his back and Amy’s head burrow into his side. He lifted Amy into his arms. He wasn’t afraid. The man snorted. Tom looked angrily from man to snake. The largest snake reared itself up, hood open, fangs bared, preparing to strike. Grabbing his hair tightly, Amy turned away.
“No”, Tom hissed at the snake, “go away.” Inexplicably, the snake slumped to the floor. The others backed away. The man stopped his chuckling and looked curiously at Tom, horror dawning on his face. Tom felt an unknown flush of pride, of power. He felt Amy hug him more tightly. He stood straighter. Dennis however let go of his shirt. He was alternately staring up at him and down at the snakes. A warm breeze blew up from behind them. Tom heard the whirring of bats. He felt a power rising stronger within him. Before anyone could react, before the man could again raise his stick Tom hissed angrily at the snakes,
“There is your enemy. Get him.” Like some nightmarish hydra the snakes turned and struck at the man. Bats were suddenly everywhere, shrieking, swarming. The man was screaming and sending jets of light from his stick at the snakes, waving his hands wildly against the bats. Some disappeared in a puff of smoke but still more found their mark. Tom felt strangely confident, omnipotent. A darkly thrilling power flowed through him. He watched excitedly as the man disappeared under the cloud of bats and snakes. Coolly, he looked for a way out. Slowly he began to sidle along the side of the tunnel walls holding Amy and trying to drag Dennis along. Only six feet more to go when he heard the raspy voice.
“Not so fast my young friends.” The man, half-sitting, had propped himself up against the tunnel wall. His face and hands were swollen from bite marks but there were no more snakes to be seen. The man’s misshapen mouth and blackened teeth pulled into a leer.
“You’re not going anywhere.” Struggling to focus he pointed a shaky stick at them and mumbled something too soft for Tom to hear. A jet of pale yellow light hit Dennis first. Tom felt him stiffen then fall to his knees. The light hit Amy next. He felt her stiffen then fall back, banging her head on the rocks. She slid to the floor and lay quite still. Loathing suddenly swelled up inside him. He felt it pulsing through every cell in his body. A furnace fuelled by a thousand suns was erupting within his mind. He focused on the failing figure in front of him, its drooling, lopsided grin, its outstretched hand. There was a cold, hard tingling in his skin.
“Stop it!” he screamed. Anger and hatred like nothing he’d felt before surged from inside him. Every wrong, every betrayal, and every hurt he’d ever felt distilled into the one thought he suddenly hurled at the despicable creature in front of him. The man lurched as though struck by an invisible hand. His eyes suddenly bugged out. The breath caught in his throat. There was a strangled little gasp as his back arched and his eyes rolled up into their sockets. The man sank back against the wall; eyes still open, a single drop of blood dripping from his ear. Gulping lungfuls of air, Tom stared at the figure before him. His heart was pounding; the blood was rushing in his head. Bats were screaming all around him. Grabbing Amy a little more tightly he stepped away from the still form dragging Dennis behind him.
After the gloom of the cave the beach was dazzlingly bright. Breathing heavily Tom made his way down to the water. Dennis had fairly recovered but Amy’s eyes were still tightly closed. Her skin was cool. Tom lay her down in the wet sand. He noticed how covered with grime she was. Scratches and cuts covered her arms and legs. A fresh cut on her head bled freely. Some of his own hair was still tightly clutched in her fist. Oh Amy, he thought sadly, I’m so sorry, please wake up, please. Dennis was shaking his head drunkenly. His eyes were oddly out of focus. In one hand he held the battered compass. It slid from his grasp and onto the sand. Tom watched as Dennis stared at it incomprehensibly. He picked it up and looked at it. It was little more than a cheap toy. He returned his attention to Amy. She lay still and quiet. Tom pressed her small hand between his own. His eyes stung. The waves crashed loudly behind them. Her eyelids suddenly fluttered. He grabbed her by the shoulders.
“Amy” he whispered frantically, “Amy wake up.” Eyelids opened slightly to reveal dazed and uncomprehending eyes. Her eyes closed again but she was starting to feel warmer now. Tom scooped her into his arms and started back across the sands. Dennis followed mutely.
Mrs. Cole saw them first and giving a seagull like cry came bounding across the beach towards them. Tom watched her skirt flapping wildly around scrawny bare legs. He suppressed an urge to laugh. Dennis was staggering behind him, a great bleeding cut across his knee. His clothing was torn and dirty. His face streaked with tears and blood. Amy was lying still dazed in his arms. Tom opened his mouth to speak, to explain what happened but Mrs. Cole just swooped down on him, grabbing Amy roughly from his arms. She grabbed the little girl’s shoulders and shaking her frantically called her name over and over again. Amy’s head lolled back and forth. Tom stood there helplessly mute, suddenly aware of the growing crowd of people around him. He looked down at his feet, at his spotlessly clean pants and shirt. His appearance contrasted sharply with that of Amy and Dennis.
“Mrs. Cole,” he began slowly “we were just …”
“What did you do to them!” she demanded suddenly.
Caught off guard Tom blurted out, “Nothing, we were just exploring one of the caves.”
“There are no caves over there”, offered a bearded old man. “I’ve lived here all my life. I should know.” He looked as colorless and faded as the sand.
Everyone started looking suspiciously at Tom.
“Look”, he cried in earnest, “there is a cave over there. We went inside and they got scared of the bats, they ran out, got scared by some drunk and ---.” The old man shook his head again. “Nope”, he replied, “there just aren’t any caves over there.”
One of the older girls ran up, “Here’re their shoes”, she offered. “I didn’t see any caves. Nobody’s here but us.” A group of younger girls agreed with her.
Tom looked from one angry face to another, why were they all lying? “Look, I’ll show you” he offered. He started towards the rocks.
“You better get that little girl out of this heat, maybe to a doctor” suggested the old man again. Tom noticed he was dressed a lot like the man in the tunnel.
Mrs. Cole looked down at her. Amy’s eyelids flickered; she turned her head weakly towards Tom.
“Dennis,” barked the matron, “who did this to you?” Dennis shook his head slowly to look at her. His voice was slow and slurry. He stared back in the direction of the caves “He did”, he replied in husky voice before slipping to the ground and throwing up. Everyone slowly turned to look at Tom. Tom was shaking his head but no one was paying any attention to him anymore.
Alone and squeezed in amongst smelly farm folk the ride back to the orphanage seemed longer for Tom than the ride out. The power that had rammed through his body a few hours ago seemed like a distant memory. Why am I so different he thought miserably? Why can I see and hear things no one else can? Tarzan, he remembered unhappily, was about his age when he asked the same questions. When he too realized he was different from everyone around him and knew he would never be just like everyone else. Tom looked at the other passengers as if they too were suddenly members of a different species. Mrs. Cole questioned Amy and Dennis over and over and finally concluded they were too afraid of Tom to tell her the truth.
Sitting alone on his bed, he turned the cheap little compass over in his hands. Somehow he knew it really was a present from Dennis’ father and that it was very important to him. Someone had roughly scratched DB onto the back. He gripped the compass tightly. His stomach grumbled in hunger. I’m tired, he thought angrily. I’m tired of people hating me because I’m different. I’m tired of being punished for things I didn’t do. Better that they should be afraid of me and fear me for things I can do. Silently he got up and walked to the wardrobe. As he passed the darkened window he caught a glimpse of his own reflection. The face was cold, unsmiling and distant. Ignoring it he returned to the wardrobe. He took out the cigar box hidden in there and placing the compass inside returned it to its hiding place. Turning, he stared at the window again. He felt the familiar cold tingling in his skin, felt the sudden warm breeze behind him. The window cracked. It now reflected half a dozen cold, smiling faces. You owe me Bishop he thought angrily, and with that climbed into bed.
Necessary legal disclaimers: **Disclaimer: 'The characters of Tom Riddle, Mrs. Cole, Amy Benson, and Dennis Bishop are the copyright of JK Rowling and Scholastic Publishing, The characters of Captain Nemo and the Nautilus are the copyright of Jules Verne. The characters of Tarzan are the copyright of Edgar Rice Burroughs and Ballantine Books.'**
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