Quiet loomed about the library, stifling the air and whatever remote dust particles that were wont to hang about. The first shades of evening filtered through the vaulted windows, casting the shelves and their occupants in an eerie shade of grey. The tables and chairs, laden with the trappings of knowledge and the half-hearted attempts to attain said knowledge, had long since been abandoned in favor of Friday-night.
In a distant, half-forgotten alcove, the tip of a single wand shone with a silvery light, its owner following its steady glow with a meticulousness that bordered on obsession. His features, lit from below, glowed a pale blue, and cut a striking contrast against his dark robes and even darker eyes. He was engrossed in his work. The accompanying stillness suited his needs perfectly.
Who would pour over Oblivitates: Memoria in Perpetuum in anything but silence? He mused to himself as he read over his notes. A smile broke across his face. He almost had enough work to write his own!
He shook his head. That would have to wait for another time he thought as he stretched the muscles in his neck. They were stiff and sore and protested the sudden movement. His eyes were sore, too. Or at least, he assumed so as everything in his vision started to sway.
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but the haze grew steadily worse. It started to ripple and then wave, and then pulled. The room seemed to stretch, swallowing in on itself at every seam.
And then suddenly, crack! It flashed like lightening, and a gale-force wind erupted across his notes, churning the pages into a mass vortex. It whirled up, down, and around him. It tore at his eyes, his face, his throat. The force surrounded him, filling him until he felt ready to burst.
Tom screamed and then was gone.
And just as quickly as it came, it left.
The piles of parchment that had been whipped into a storm, flapped and fluttered to the floor. The books lay in disarray on the table, with the chair leaning awkwardly against the wall.
However, amidst all the academic ruin, the tall, lanky form of Tom Marvolo Riddle was nowhere to be seen. He had vanished from Hogwart's school library, and if the shelves had anything to say about his whereabouts, they were being conspicuously quiet about it.
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