Authors Note: Hello, welcome and thank you for giving this story a try. This is the first story I post (yay) and I would be really grateful if you'd share your thoughts with me. Criticism, suggestions, ideas etc. would be helpful and really appreciated. This is a M rated Gin'n'Tonic AU so expect Ginny and Tom, mature themes and a twist in Rowling's universe.
Let's get this show on the road:
Prologue: You-Know-Who
Tom Marvolo Riddle was deep in thought.
If one were to add powdered asphodel to an infusion of wormwood AFTER bringing it to a slow boil, would one still create a Draught of the Living Dead or would the heat negate the effect of the asphodel? Would the potion derived from this process be useless or a milder form of the Sleeping Draught? But maybe if one were to crush the asphodel into a rough powder, the heat would integrate the powder, however not completely, and one would still end up with the Draught of the Living Dead? And if one would work with this hypothesis, what would happen if the asphodel was added whole? A stronger Sleeping Draught than the Draught of the Living Dead? Was this a possibility? How would a body react when ingesting such a potion? He had to test it, had to...
"What the fuck Riddle? Get your head out of the fucking clouds and wrap this up!"
Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody. Such a charming man. And he certainly had a way with words.
Sighing, Tom stored his thoughts on potion making for later reflection and focused back on his present situation. Right, Bellatrix Lestrange. The insane witch was dancing and twisting around him, her black locks in a wild disarray, eyes bulging out of her sockets and spittle flying from her mouth along with manic cackles and high pitched shrieks. Moreover, she was throwing Unforgivables at him like Dumbledore threw lemon drops at his favourite students.
Could one really fault him that, when faced with such an appalling sight, his thoughts drifted to more pleasurable pursuits?
'And certainly more challenging ones, too.' Tom thought sardonically.
Because for all her famed prowess on the battlefield Tom was simply bored out of his mind after only one minute of duelling her.
She was fast on her feet, certainly. Also seemed to have the stamina. And the power and accuracy behind her spells was indeed impressive.
'If only she would use more than the Unforgivables and the occasional Blood-Boiling-Curse. A shame, really. And here I was hoping for a challenge...'
Smiling wryly, Tom's wand of yew twitched in his hand.
Once. Bellatrix's wand flew out of her hand.
Twice. Iron shackles bound the witch, suppressing her magic.
Thrice. Because Tom really did not want to listen to her degenerated screams anymore.
Looking around he noticed that Moody had overpowered and bound her husband, Rodolphus Lestrange. The same fate had already met his brother, Rabastan, the last of the Lestrange trio. Ronald and Ginevra Weasley holding him at wand point.
"Showing off again, Riddle?"
Ronald. Yes, one could argue that their working relationship, though professional, was a bit...strained. It was a mutual dislike, born from their very first day at Hogwarts together and carrying on through three years of Auror training and four years being colleagues in the 'Special Homicide Division'. Though to be fair Tom completed his Auror training in only half the time and after working a while with the regular forces approached the Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour and the Head of the DMLE, Amelia Bones with the idea of a special unit, focusing on cases of homicide. Amelia Bones was smitten with the idea, and possibly also with Tom's charm. Scrimgeour was not. But ever the pragmatist Scrimgeour agreed in order to get the zealous Tom Riddle out of his hair and eliminating the young wizard's threat to his position. As an added incentive, the SHD was put under the supervision of Moody whom everyone thought... well, mad. Undoubtedly Scrimgeour hoped to put aside all the misfits and trouble-makers in the department, thus securing his position. Unfortunately for him this backfired spectacularly. There was not a single case the SHD didn't solve, not a single murderer who escaped. And the people simply loved them. Minister Fudge came regularly to bask in the glory of the "defenders of our community", as the Daily Prophet put it. Young Aurors entered the forces with the wish to be eventually accepted into the SHD, the Wizengamot bend their backs for them. Pay-raise? No problem. A secretary? Of course. Bigger office space? Naturally.
Yes, Tom Riddle thought he had it all. A job appropriate for his talents, power over fawning politicians, money, fame and according to Rita Skeeter also "cheekbones that cut right into every woman's heartstrings".
"Are you laughing at me Riddle?"
Ah, Weasley was still there. Pity. Tom's smug smile only widened, resulting in Weasley's face turning into an unbecoming red, clashing horribly with his hair.
"Shut it, Ron!"
Trust Ginevra to spoil his fun and judging by her glare, that lost its effect completely due to the twitching corners of her lips, knowing it too.
A single raised eyebrow conveyed his message: 'But he really is too easily riled up.'
Tom roughly translated her eye-roll and accompanied snort as: 'I know. I am his sister, duh.'
Their silent conversation was interrupted when they both quickly spun around, erecting a Shield Charm in a split second, having two stinging hexes crashing against them.
"Constant vigilance!" was Moody's barked reaction.
Maybe they should get back to the situation at hand. Lestrange manor. All three Lestranges subdued. The rest of their team down in the dungeons to free the muggleborn witches and wizards who were down there for a nice, little holiday of torture.
"Alastor, why don't Ginevra and I go down to the dungeons and look why the others are taking so long? I am sure Ronald and you have the situation in hand."
"Yes, you do that lass. And look out for traps, remember..."
"Constant vigilance!" Ginevra finished for him.
"None of your cheek Missy. Off you go." Moody's harsh words were contradicted by the gruesome sight of his scarred lips twisting into a smile.
"So what were you thinking about when you should have been duelling the banshee?" Ginevra inquired, while walking briskly by Tom's side in the direction of the dungeons.
"Powdered asphodel."
"Right...care to elaborate?"
"I may have thought of a method to enhance the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead. Of course I have to verify my suspicions with extensive experiments. However, I am confident that it is possible."
Ginevra mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "You are sure that Snape and you are not related?".
Whatever clever comeback formed on the tip of Tom's tongue was never revealed because his name was called in a tone of voice usually only used when referred to deities.
Which was only appropriate in Tom's not so humble opinion.
"Tom, we were just about to send a patronus up to call you. We need your help."
"When don't you, Draco?"
Before Draco could try to find an answer to this purely rhetorical question, Ginevra decided to stop this train of thought before it fully left the station and asked in what way Tom's help was needed.
"We can not open the dungeons. We broke the main wards: anti-intruder, anti-portkey, the basic stuff. However there seems to be one ward left, stopping us from entering."
The 'we' in Draco's little speech referred to the rest of their team: Draco Malfoy, obviously, who caused quite the scandal among the pureblood elite when he decided to embark on a plebeian lifestyle after Hogwarts and work for his money. Maybe the first Malfoy to do so in several hundred years. Even though his parents voiced strong disapproval for their son working like some commoner at first, they now were quite proud of their son who showed 'strength of character', 'Slytherin ambition' and 'a sense of duty towards their community seldom found in one so young'. Apparently they always wanted Draco to embark on a career independent of the family fortune. Who knew? And if Lucius and Narcissa reached this conclusion after a long talk with Tom, who might have suggested that Draco working in the Ministry would help their public image and create new contacts and that, surely in a few years when Lucius decided to run for Minister, would come in quite handy, well who could fault them for their loving support?
Nymphadora Lupin, who preferred to be called by her maiden name of Tonks for reasons Tom never cared enough about to know. After her pregnancy and the birth of her son Scrimgeour decided to put her into the SHD because of her clumsiness and because he simply didn't like her. Rumour has it that the Head of their department is a closet racist and strongly disagreed with one of his Aurors marrying a werewolf. It was Scrimgeour's loss because -yes- she is clumsy and Tom could hardly tolerate her cheerful and constant chatter but she is also the only current Metamorphmagus in Britain and despite being a Hufflepuff, quite the accomplished duellist. Must be the Black blood in her, for her mother Andromeda was a daughter of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, who decided that she didn't want to stay 'Toujours Pour' and married a muggleborn, getting herself disowned in the process.
The last member of their team was only slightly more tolerable than Ronald in Tom's opinion. Which placed him somewhere between a flobberworm and a garden gnome. Harry Potter also went to Hogwarts the same year Tom and the youngest Weasley boy did. Together with a muggleborn witch, Hermione Granger (who Draco lovingly called the 'mudblood know-it-all' in private) they were called the 'Golden Trio' by their fellow Gryffindors. With what unprecedented feat they acquired this nickname would perhaps forever elude Tom. Ronald's intelligence was sub par, his spell work mediocre and his manners non-existent. Granger was at least somewhat intelligent but terribly self-assured of her own intelligence and superior morality (Tom clearly remembered her quest to free the Hogwarts House-Elves). Potter was a decent duellist but his only real talent lay in Quidditch. And playing childish pranks. And being obnoxious. And being self-righteous. And...Tom really could fill books with things detailing Potter's inferiority.
While he went down a trip on memory lane, Ginevra had taken a closer look at the ward, blocking the dungeon doors.
"It's a blood ward. Only those keyed in can pass. To deactivate them we'll need a small amount of compatible blood and then we can deactivate it with standard ward breaking methods."
"Blood wards are illegal.", Potter declared with furrowed brows.
"Yes, who would have thought we'd find anything illegal here?" Draco could never pass up on an opportunity to bait Potter or his friends.
Potter gritted his teeth: "What I was trying to say Malfoy..."
"Boys break it up! While you bicker the people down there are waiting for us to help them." Motherhood apparently had an effect on Tonks.
"Ok, Draco or Tonks. If one of you would?"
Ginevra's announcement and outstretched hand was met with silence and three blank faces.
"Err, Ginny why Tonks or Draco?"
In situations such as this one Tom dearly hoped that Potter would do the world a favour and would never produce offspring.
"Well, who is probably keyed into the ward? Think, Potter."
The raven haired male visibly bristled at Tom's tone but bit out: "The Lestranges. But this doesn't help us because..."
"Because you obviously lack the capacity to think. I am aware."
"You bastard...you..."
"Tom! Harry! Stop it! Now!"
"Ginny!", Potter sounded positively scandalized, "He always belittles everyone and acts like he is the second coming of Merlin himself. I won't stand for this anymore..."
"I know Harry but Tonks is right: now is not the time. Bring it up with Moody after the mission. Tom can you explain without insulting everyone or shall I?"
"I shall refrain from further comments on Potter's substandard intelligence.", because he was feeling generous today. "All three Lestranges are probably keyed into the ward. Bellatrix Lestrange, however, does not have Lestrange blood since she married into the family. She was born a Black. Meaning the ward should also be compatible with Black blood. And who here is part of this illustrious family through their mothers?"
Draco and Tonks glanced sheepishly at each other.
"One tries to forget any blood relation to Bellatrix.", the Malfoy heir declared.
"What a charmingly dysfunctional family we are, cousin Draco.", the Metamorphmagus tried to joke.
The blond tried to scowl at Tonks' familiarity but he was fooling no one. Publicly Narcissa Malfoy may have denounced her 'muggle-loving' sister and expressed no wish to meet her niece but in reality the two sisters visited regularly for tea and gossip. It was an open secret among the pureblood elite.
"So who of you will do the honours?", Ginevra inquired again.
Draco held out his hand, palm facing up and with a slice of Ginevra's wand a cut appeared. With a clench of his fist several drops of blood dripped onto the ward line. While the skin on Draco's palm knit back together, Tom twisted and pulled on the strings of magic composing the ward. For a blood ward the design appeared to be rather simple, comparable to a braid. It seemed the Lestranges felt secure in their belief that the ward would hold as long as it was protected by their blood. How naive. With a last twirl of his wand Tom unravelled the last strand of magic and the ward disintegrated.
It was nearing midnight when all members of the 'Special Homicide Division' met in their meeting room at the Ministry in order to wrap up their final report on the Lestrange case. After the wards in the dungeons were down the prisoners had to be identified and they received basic medical attention. While Tonks, Draco and Potter then proceeded to bring them to St. Mungo's with a pre prepared portkey, Tom and Ginevra used the time to check the dungeons for further evidence. Not that they needed it. The Lestrange trio would almost certainly receive the Dementor's Kiss. Meanwhile Moody and Ronald secured the captured trio at the Ministry's holding cells and returned to check the rest of the mansion for anything incriminating enough to be used by the prosecution when the two wizards and the witch were to be tried. After they were through with the manor it was put under Ministry wards, enabling anyone from entering. In theory. Because Tom was sure these standard Ministry wards were meant as a joke.
'Luckily for society I refrained from a career as a criminal.', Tom silently mused.
Later Ginevra and her brother went to catalogue the gathered evidence. The others were still at St. Mungo's questioning the victims and waiting for the Healer's written reports. This meant Moody and Tom would have a little chat with their three guests. Under the influence of Veritaserum they confessed everything in gory detail.
All in all the case was closed for them. The criminals were caught, the victims freed, the evidence gathered. Were it not for the ultimate bureaucratic obligation of pouring every minuscule detail into forms and reports, Tom would already be at home testing his theory on the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead. Alas, sacrifices were necessary to appease the monster known as the Ministry of Magic, which fed off completely useless and redundant paperwork.
"All right, that's it. Everybody sign and then you can go home. Good work.", Moody had to be quite tired if he was this generous with his praise.
"Say Tom, what are your plans for tonight?", Draco inquired.
"Well, it occurred to me today that there might be a possibility to enhance the potency of the Draught of the Living Dead by..."
"Tooooooooooom! Don't be a bore!"
Tom, quite frankly, failed to see what would be boring about testing a new and potentially revolutionary potions theory. But Draco was funny like that.
"And what do you propose as an alternative form of night time entertainment?"
The Malfoy heir smirked, "Glad you asked. There is this new club in Knockturn Alley and everyone will be there tonight. Pansy simply ordered me to bring you." This was accompanied by a rather childish waggling of Draco's eyebrows.
"And why exactly should I follow orders from the likes of Parkinson?", it seemed his former House mates forgot their place. No matter, he simply had to remind them what was acceptable behaviour when dealing with him.
"It wasn't meant as an order, more like a...suggestion. And come on, you know what this means."
Of course Tom did know. However he wanted the pleasure of watching Draco squirm, while trying to say that Parkinson wanted Tom to bed her, without actually using the words. Not that Tom had any intention of doing it. He'd get nothing out of it. Pansy Parkinson, while not unattractive wasn't a great beauty either. Her family was neither particularly rich or influential. And the only interesting grimoire out of their family library, had fallen into Tom's hands when he did actually bed her, back in their sixth year. And that particular incident was so unsatisfying that Tom vowed he'd only ever sleep with her again if he'd get a Founder's item out of it. And if black-mail, coercion and stealing wouldn't work beforehand.
"No, Draco I don't know what this means. Please enlighten me."
"Well...uh...Pansy...I mean she...and you..."
"Is Pug-Face your girlfriend, Riddle?", By Merlin and Morgana if Ronald wasn't Ginevra's brother, and she for some unfathomable reason fond of him, he'd have had a potentially lethal accident years ago. That and everybody would immediately suspect him. And Ronald Weasley would never be the reason Tom Riddle went to Azkaban.
"As if!", scoffed Ginevra. Forcefully. Now that was...interesting.
"Your sister is right, Ronald. Ginevra knows my cold and shrivelled heart beats only for her. Alas, she rejects my every overture.", Tom sighed dramatically.
Silence. In which Ronald took the opportunity to mimic a gold fish rather accurately, opening and closing his mouth in rapid succession. Draco and Tonks smirked. Moody rolled his good eye. Potter's eyes grew so large, that Tom feared for a moment he would have to put them back in his head by magic. And Ginevra...blushed? Indeed, her cheeks turned a lovely rosy colour, hiding the freckles around her nose and contrasting with the rest of her milky skin. Tom was...thrilled. Maybe he should be worried that after all those years her blushes started to affect him but he would rather focus on making her blush more often. In the last few months, he found that Ginevra's blushes produced the most delightful warmth low in his stomach. Like a pint of warm butterbeer. It was a guilty pleasure he allowed himself to have. Others listened to Wizard Soap Operas on the radio, he would make Ginevra blush. No big deal.
"You stay away from Ginny...You hear me Riddle?", so Ronald did not have an apoplectic attack and unfortunately regained his ability to speak. Life simply wasn't fair sometimes.
"Circe, Ron calm down. Tom is pulling your leg.", Tonks laughed.
"Oh...", with great relief Tom noted that Ronald's blushes had no effect on him whatsoever, except mild disgust maybe. Otherwise he surely would have needed the help of a professional mind healer.
"And what exactly are you still doing here kiddos? I think I said you can go.", With those words Moody complimented them out of the office into the empty halls of the ministry. The group walked leisurely toward the lifts. Draco was whining, trying to convince Tom to go to this club with him. Ginevra asked Tonks questions about her little son, gushing over pictures of the little metamorphmagus. Ronald and Potter were quiet. Suspiciously so. Tom glanced at them. Ronald gave Potter, what appeared to be, encouraging looks and occasional pats on the back. Potter seemed to be steeling himself, drawing deep breaths and clenching his jaw. The last time he looked this ridiculous was right before their potion N.E.W.T's. What in the name of magic was Potter up to? Although Draco was often childish and immature he was also a Slytherin and therefore noticed Ronald's and Potter's abnormal behaviour. With a pale raised brow he silently asked Tom's opinion. As an answer Tom shrugged imperceptibly. While they waited for the lift to arrive Draco decided to lay the bait:
"Nervous, Potter? You look like a horde of dark wizards is waiting in the Atrium."
"Shut up, Malfoy! I'm just tired."
Of course. And Tom admired Dumbledore's fashion sense. This was interesting. Not that Tom cared about Potter's private life but every weakness he could use against him he would. With a great show of nonchalance Potter leaned against the wall and addressed Ginevra:
"Say Ginny: what are you doing tomorrow evening? It's just if you don't have any plans I thought we could have a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks."
Well, now Tom did care. This was preposterous. Potter acted like a third-year asking his crush out to Hogsmeade for the first time. And Ronald was nodding his head vigorously in the background as a show of support. Besides Ginevra was his best friend. First friend. Only friend maybe if Tom discounted Draco. She would never go out with this pathetic excuse of a wizard, knowing that Tom despised him since Hogwarts...
"Sorry Harry. But tomorrow I'm meeting Tom for our weekly catch-up. Some other time maybe."
"Oh, okay...sure..."
The arrival of the lift saved them all from further embarrassment. To be honest Tom had forgotten that his weekly meeting with Ginevra was the next day but he certainly wouldn't complain. And if he wouldn't have showed up, Ginevra would have tracked him down. Wouldn't be the first time.
'That's right Potter. My company is always preferable to yours.', he thought with great relish.
1st September 1992, Hogwarts Express
Slowly platform 9 3/4 was filling with people. Mothers tearfully hugged their children goodbye. Owls hooted and cats nearly tripped people. Young Tom Riddle sneered from his window seat in an empty compartment. He had arrived an hour before, every minute not spend at the orphanage was a blessing after all, and promptly changed into his school robes. The green and silver striped tie knotted perfectly, robes with the serpent emblem without a crease and dark chestnut hair neatly parted, he was the epitome of a pureblood heir. Unfortunately he wasn't. Riddle wasn't a pureblood name after all. A fact that he had quickly learned during his first night in the Slytherin dormitories. Mudblood they had called him, insinuated that he didn't belong, that he was inferior to them. He would show them, prove them that he was better, that they were inferior to him. True to this resolution Tom Riddle had taken Hogwarts by storm. Top of all classes, nearly winning all their house points alone, favourite of every teacher: so talented, so charming, so helpful. Quickly he had made a name for himself around school. The other houses envied Slytherin for this perfect student and outside of the Slytherin common room the other snakes did not attack him. Within the privacy of the dungeons however, he was still scorned, ridiculed and attacked. While the upper years were more reserved in their antagonism the other first years seemed to view making his life harder as some form of crusade. Trying to hex him while he slept. This only led him to look up and cast protection wards around his bed. Stealing, hiding and destroying clothes and books from his trunk, motivated Tom to put a neat little curse on his things, which would give the person who touched them without his permission painful, electrical shocks. Throwing hexes and jinxes at his back while he sat studying in the common room resulted in Tom perfecting a variety of shield charms. Despite all their failed attempts they never seemed to learn, so Tom decided to give them a lesson they wouldn't forget. During his life Tom had already learned several truths that were far beyond comprehension of other 12 year-old children. Number one: people fear and revere power. This lesson became clear to him after he had hung Billy Stubbs' rabbit from the rafters. They knew it was him but didn't know how, they couldn't prove it. And that made them angry. But also so, so afraid. They older children stayed far away from him after that, their eyes wary and downcast, never meeting his own piercing blue ones. When they talked about him in hushed tones their fear hung heavy in the air, like smoke so thick Tom could taste it on his tongue. But beneath their suffocating fear lay an undercurrent of something else: adoration. They realised Tom could do things they couldn't do, couldn't even comprehend. And faced with Tom's strange powers came the wish to get a share of them, to profit from them. Soon they drowned in the heady essence of fear and adoration, instead of bothering him or calling him names they started working for him: if they stole a certain book for Tom from the local library, he would open the safe were the confiscated cigarettes of the older teens were stored. If they gave up their pocket money, he would break into the local liquor store at night for them. They probably convinced themselves that this was a partnership but Tom knew better. He called the shots. And he gladly reminded them of this fact when it became necessary.
Lesson number two: cut down the leader and the rest will follow. This he learned when Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop got expectations of grandeur. They thought they could lead and Tom would follow. How mistaken they were. Nevertheless during the summer before he learned he was a wizard, Tom had a small mutiny on his hands. Some children did not want to do his bidding anymore, hiding behind Amy and Dennis for protection. And the two simpletons fancied themselves as the ones in power. Then came the orphanage's yearly trip to the sea. It was easy to convince Amy and Dennis to follow him into the cave at low tide. He was terribly persuasive after all. They thought they could scare him down there, maybe rough him up a bit. How foolish. How naive. Since that day the two rarely spoke again and fell obediently back in line. Tom admitted to himself that he maybe went a bit too far. After all the old hag Cole noticed that Amy and Dennis were a bit...traumatized. But Tom achieved what he set out to do: since the cave incident nobody questioned his supremacy again.
It was time that his Slytherin year mates went through the same learning process the children at Wool's did. That Tom had power way beyond them was an irrefutable fact. For maximum impression Tom looked up some flashy curses in the library. Nothing forbidden but borderline dark...and painful. To identify their leader was easy: Draco Malfoy swaggered around the castle if he owned it, his two gorillas Crabbe and Goyle always in tow. He was the instigator behind all pranks on Tom, loudly questioning his blood-status and bragging about his family's money and influence. Tom supposed that Draco was sufficiently talented and powerful. After putting him in his place he'd make a useful follower. One evening while Draco held court with the other first years in front of the fireplace in the common room, Tom deemed the stage set. It had started to snow that day and rather then spent the day outdoors, the majority of Slytherin house preferred to spent the evening inside. Just as well, after this no one in Slytherin would dare to question Tom's power ever again.
"Malfoy!", Tom practically cooed. The fact that this was a necessary lesson for his house mates, didn't mean that Tom couldn't enjoy himself.
"What do you want, Mudblood?"
By now the common room had turned silent with anticipation of the impending confrontation.
"Just a chat, Malfoy, just a chat. It has come to my attention that there seems to be a misunderstanding. And we can't have that, can we?"
"A misunderstanding?", the blonde sneered. "And what about?"
"Well, you seem to be under the misapprehension that it is acceptable to try and hex me, to steal and destroy my things, to call me names. I merely wish to rectify this."
The Malfoy heir laughed a dirty little laugh and many Slytherins snickered along.
"What are you going to do about it, Riddle?"
"What indeed?", Tom felt into himself, drawing, coaxing his magic out. He didn't need a wand, he had always willed his magic to do his bidding, even before he knew what his power was. For a moment nothing happened and some students began muttering in the background wanting the fight to go ahead. Truth was, the fight was already over. Malfoy's breathing became laboured, his hands loosened his tie and popped open the first button of his shirt. Sweat started to form over his pale eyebrows.
"What are... you doing?", he rasped. "Stop...it..."
A dark and sinister grin spread across Tom's face, shocking many a bystander. This boy who grinned sharply with too many teeth and had a dark abyss beyond his pupils couldn't possibly be the same boy who smiled so prettily and charmed the teachers with words drenched in honey.
"Make me."
By now sweat ran in little rivulets over Malfoy's face. He opened and closed his mouth in long, raspy breaths in an effort to gulp oxygen into his lungs. Standing up only made the world spin before the Malfoy heir's eyes and in a tangle of robes and limbs he crashed to the floor. Pansy Parkinson screamed and Crabbe and Goyle tried to take threatening steps toward Tom. Before they took their second step, Tom's magic lashed out at them, throwing them over the entire length of the common room. With a sickening crack they hit the stone wall and crumpled to the floor in large, meaty heaps. Meanwhile Malfoy's face had turned rather blue and his eyes had rolled so far back, that only the white was visible. Murmurs went through the crowd:
"...without a wand..."
"...feel the magic..."
"...dark...powerful..."
"...what spell is this..."
"...impossible...first year..."
When Malfoy's legs started twitching a few older years, friends and relatives of the other first years, pulled out their wands and shot colourful spells at Tom. Casually the blue-eyed boy let his own wand drop from his sleeve into his hand and retaliated. When the last spell colour faded two third-years, one fourth-year and one fifth-year lay on the ground covered in burns, rashes, boils, cuts and bruises. One first-year remained standing.
"I think," Tom softly spoke into the quiet, "that I have effectively made my point, why it is not acceptable to harass me."
With one sweep of yew, Malfoy's lungs mercifully filled with air. In his haste to consume as much of the blessed, life granting sustenance the boy nearly choked on his own saliva and his crumpled form was wrecked with harsh coughing fits.
"Now that this misunderstanding is out of our way I hope our future interactions will be more pleasurable, Malfoy."
From this evening onwards dynamics changed in Slytherin house. Tom had become the undisputed king of the first-years and all older students also showed the proper deference to him. Suddenly his blood status didn't seem to matter anymore. His power and intelligence were prizes that the other Slytherins coveted. Everyone wanted a piece of Tom, his attention, his favour. Malfoy, predictably, took some time to come around. First he was afraid, becoming white as a ghost as soon as Tom looked at him and trying to not be in a room with him alone. Then Draco took to sulking, throwing pouting glances when Tom sat in the common room surrounded by other Slytherins. Finally he seemed to realize that -no- the dynamics would not change back to what they were, and -yes- if he wanted to amount to something in Slytherin House he would have to get back into Tom's good graces. This Draco tried to achieve by surreptitiously sitting near Tom in class, in the library, in the Great Hall and the common room. When this action did not result in negative repercussions he started to take part in talking to Tom again, asking his opinion on everything from politics to Quidditch and not so subtly flattering him. Much to Tom's amusement, who then decided that the Malfoy heir had properly atoned for his sins and would now get a chance to show how he could be useful. Surprisingly Draco, once properly guided and taught by Tom, showed great promise underneath his exterior of a spoilt and whiny child. He had a natural grasp for the art of potion making, courtesy of his Godfather Severus Snape, the famous potion master, a profound understanding of politics and social dynamics and was quite a talented dueller, who had no problem with learning spells that the Hogwarts curriculum considered too unsavoury for its students. All in all Draco quickly made his way to the top again, becoming Tom's right hand man, thus gaining authority over the other Slytherins. Moreover Tom found himself surprised that he also started to enjoy the vicious humour of the blond and his never ending quest to make life for their Gryffindor year mates unbearable.
And now Tom was sitting in an empty compartment of the Hogwarts Express, before his second year at school, waiting. The others would come to him. As soon as this thought finished, the compartment door banged open. However it wasn't a fellow Slytherin who entered but a little girl with the reddest hair Tom had ever seen.
"Oh excuse me, mind if I sit here?", the red head asked and without waiting for a reply plopped into the opposite seat. "Thank you I have to hide from my brothers or I might actually murder them. They act like nesting dragons and I am the egg just because I'm the youngest and the only girl, you know?"
Tom certainly did not know but was spared an answer by his new companion who appeared to be under the conviction that she could prattle on.
"Are you a first year too? What house do you think you'll be in? I think I'll be in Gryffindor, my whole family has been there. But I think the other houses might be alright too, except Slytherin.", she spoke and wrinkled her freckled nose.
Now Tom felt insulted, first this girl disregarded his personal space and displayed an astonishing amount of lack of manners and then she managed to insult him and his house. All in under three minutes.
"I am starting my second year. I am in Slytherin.", Tom ground out with a rather pointed glance towards his silver and green tie.
"Oh...", the girls face took on the colour of a ripe tomato. " I mean Slytherin is not a bad house per se but um, well..."
"Well what?"
"Well, my brothers said every evil wizard has been in Slytherin and they are all rich and spoilt snobs and are all totally into this blood supremacy nonsense.", proclaimed the girl and met his gaze defiantly.
Tom did not know what drove him to the spirited defence of his house. Maybe the fact that it was the first place he considered a real home. Or the fact that his comrades in Slytherin served to amuse him and were rather useful. Or the fact that he strongly identified himself with the ideals of his house: ambition, cunning, cleverness.
"The same brothers who act like nesting dragons? You said they are in Gryffindor so their issue with my house might be a simple case of house rivalry. And while I have to concede that there are many students from old families with rather conservative views on the issue of blood supremacy, to say that we are all rich and spoilt blood supremacists is a terrible generalization. Same as saying, for example, that all Gryffindors are brash and arrogant. Besides I am neither well off nor a pureblood," as much as it hurt to admit that " and still am in Slytherin. On the issue of all evil wizards being Slytherins, this is a misconception. Granted many Slytherins are more open-minded concerning Dark Magic but in most cases it is more of a family tradition. Besides Dark Magic does not equal evil. And concerning Slytherin alumni: do you know why the Order of the Merlin, first class is presented on a green band? Because Merlin himself was most likely in Slytherin and you wouldn't call him an evil wizard, would you?"
At the end of his little speech Tom realized that he was slightly out of breath. He could not remember when he last had been this impassioned about something. If ever. The girl, however, sat wide eyed and gaping, displaying a mix of intrigue, scepticism, embarrassment and defiance.
"So you are saying Dark Magic isn't evil?", she finally exclaimed with an air of disbelief about her.
"Yes I am. The issue most people have with the Dark Arts is that they believe that they solely consist of spells designed to hurt and kill. Magic in itself however is all about intent. I could maim or kill with legal spells just as easily if I put my mind to it. In fact I could use spells Hogwarts students learn in their first year, Diffindo for example to cut someone's throat or main arteries or Incendio to set somebody on fire. Furthermore what the Ministry considers Dark Magic and real Dark Magic are two different things. The Ministry for example includes every kind of Blood Magic into the Dark Arts, when in reality Blood Magic is only really old, practised by the druids of old and is still legal in many countries, most notably in Africa and South America."
The red head seemed speechless. "How do you know all this?"
"Books.", was Tom's dry reply.
"And you are not making this up?"
"Check for yourself if you don't believe me. In fact check for yourself anyway and don't just go and repeat widespread opinion just because it is politically correct."
The girl seemed less defiant and more genuinely curious now. "You said intent matters but with what good intention can one use Blood Magic?"
"Warding for one. Blood wards only admit people with the same or nearly the same blood. The druids for example used it to protect their family homes or local villages. Another discipline involving Blood Magic is Healing. Blood of family members can enhance the potency of different healing potions and blood willingly sacrificed by family or friends can counter act several curses."
"Wow...I didn't know that. You would make a really good teacher, you know?"
But before Tom could answer the compartment door opened again and Malfoy entered.
"Tom! I hope you had a pleasant summer and...", the boy with the silver blond hair trailed off when his eyes fell on the red head opposite Tom.
"And what do we have here?", Draco sneered, "Hand me down robes, freckles and red hair. You must be another Weasley. Merlin, how many of you are there?"
A Weasley? As in the stiff fifth-year Gryffindor Peter or something? As in the Weasley twins, the bane of every teachers existence? As in Ronald Weasley the blundering idiot in their year? Well, the red hair and the talk about several brothers should have clued him in but Tom supposed that he was quite distracted by their conversation. And he didn't necessarily mind.
The red haired girl tossed her fiery curls over her shoulder with a dramatic flair and managed to look at Malfoy like he was something under her shoe. "Yes I am a Weasley. And since you are a blond ponce you must be a Malfoy. Tell me is this your natural hair colour or do you bleach?", she inquired with a saccharine smile.
Involuntary the corner of Tom's lips curled up. The girl had spirit.
"Why you...", Draco's pale complexion had acquired some colour now and his sneer threatened to become permanent.
"Draco, behave!"
"But Tom, she is a Weasley!", this was said as if it explained everything. And for Draco it probably did. The feud between the Weasley's and Malfoy's was common knowledge after all. And going by the Weasleys Tom did personally know it would have, too. But, possibly against every rule of the universe, Tom did not mind this particular Weasley. Au contrair, he did find that he quite enjoyed talking and explaining things to her. Maybe he really had teaching potential.
"Yes Draco, behave!", cooed the female Weasley sweetly. Suddenly her head snapped back to Tom so fast that he feared for a moment that she would snap her own neck. "Wait, your name is Tom?"
"Yes."
"And you are a second year Slytherin and hang out with Malfoy?"
"Obviously.", where was she going with this?
With a cat that got the canary grin she then asked: "You are not Tom Riddle by any chance, are you?"
"Yes I am.", he narrowed his eyes. "Is this a problem?"
"Merlin, no!", she laughed gaily, "This is brilliant, actually. Ron couldn't shut up about you this summer. Always going on about what a stuck up prick you are. But Percy said that you are a genius. And Fred and George said they tried to prank you but never succeeded so it must be true.", with a spring in her steps she made for the compartment door, "Just wait until I tell Ron that I had a nice chat with you and actually found you quite nice. Maybe he'll get an aneurysm."
Totally ignoring Draco she left the compartment.
"Wait!", Tom called out.
"Huh?", her head appeared back into the compartment.
"I didn't catch your name."
"Oh. The name's Ginny."
And that's the prologue. Reviews would be really appreciated.
Chapter 1: The Dark Mark will be up on Sunday January, 22.