Of Snakes and Souls
His robes dangled down, hanging slightly off his hunched form as he scribbled furiously into the notebook in front of him. His stride was effortless despite the book blocking most of his vision, younger students hurriedly scattering from his path as he stalked by.
Everything had to be perfect. The slightest mistake could irrevocably effect his plans. Looking up to make sure the coast was clear, his dark eyes quickly surveyed the hallway. Satisfied there was no one nearby, he hastily made his way into the girl's bathroom, closing the door behind him and locking it with a flash of his wand. It was a spell of his own devising, one that most common unlocking charms wouldn't open. That wouldn't stop one of the professors from getting by it, but he was hopeful it would slow them enough that he could hide any evidence.
Making his way to the sink, he cast a silencing spell on the sink and the door before clearing his throat and hissing loudly. The gangly, pale-skinned teenager was quickly greeted by the sight of dust billowing outwards as the sink transformed itself into a dark shaft, stale air oozing out and overpowering his nostrils.
Putting his wand to his throat, he quietly thanked Kettleburn for having taught him the spell for increasing one's volume. All it took was a mention of the potential use in scaring off aggressive magical creatures, and the professor nearly fell over himself teaching it to the class as a safety measure.
"Arise, Creature of Slytherin! Come to your master," He hissed, a sneer covering his visage as he heard the rustling begin.
He had nearly died the first time he'd attempted to summoned the basilisk to him, not knowing quite what 'Slytherin's creature' was supposed to be. A snake had been the safe assumption, but seeing the massive basilisk was still a shock to his system. It took a bit of trial and error, along with the threat of a rather rambunctious rooster, to cow the monster and suitably convince it that he was of proper Slytherin blood. In the end, though, he found himself with one of the most dangerous magical creatures in the world at his beck and call. He had even persuaded it to keep its eyes closed when near him so long as he was alone, to remove that potential risk.
Calmly watching the dark tunnel as the sound of slithering grew closer, he controlled his heartbeat as the head of the beast begin to emerge from the shadowy tunnel. As confident in himself as he was, showing any animal fear was a general no-no, let alone an apex predator like a basilisk.
When it had finally settled much of its bulk in the tunnel, with the entirety of its head dominating the area of the bathroom where the sink had previously been, Tom began hissing to it, giving it the instructions for tonight. He planned on gradually increasing the number of students he had it target, but for tonight he was still content to stick to one. He wasn't quite ready to deal with the full might of the Ministry if it was brought in to deal with the attacks, and expulsion would ruin several of his plans.
"And what do you think you're doing in the GIRLS bathroom?" A bratty voice echoed out from behind him, causing his eyes to widen, and the snake to turn its head to look past him. Turning to shout at the foolish girl, he was met by a sudden scream and a sickly thud before he could so much as tell her to close her eyes.
He closed his eyes, feeling warm bile beginning to creep up his throat. It was never supposed to go like this. The basilisk was supposed to petrify people, to keep attention off him while he worked on creating a horcrux. Targeting muggle-born students allowed him to push forward the pureblood agenda, without affecting anyone who had family that would cause enough of an uproar to truly warrant the school being closed. The death of a student though? Muggle-born or not, this would cause utter chaos. No one could look past this.
Looking over at her, he felt himself grow slightly dizzy. He had known the girl. Not well, she was a Ravenclaw student two years below him, but he'd helped her once when she had been struggling with a transfiguration paper. It was a necessary duty of being a prefect, and while she could be rather annoying, she had thanked him profusely for the help and later found him to give him a chocolate frog as thanks for the grade she received on the essay.
A warm tear began to roll down his cheek before he furiously wiped it off with the back of his hand. He had a ritual to perform, and if he waited much longer then he would never be able to. Judging by his reaction to this, he wasn't sure he would ever be able to muster up the strength to commit another murder, grandiose plans aside.
He grabbed the journal in front of him, figuring that it would have to do. A quick hiss at the serpent still lurking behind him sent it careening back down the tunnels towards the pipes that led into the school. He needed the distraction now more than ever. If any professor came now… Riddle shook his head. He couldn't embrace the negative thoughts. He had to have his head firmly on his shoulders if he was going to make this work.
Looking into his journal at the page he had been writing in on his way to the bathroom, he steeled himself and began the process to split his soul into two.
As he said the final word of the necessary chant, he felt a sharp pain bloom in his chest, quickly growing to hurt more than any pain he had ever felt. Every molecule in his body felt like it was being ripped apart and then haphazardly shoved back together by an angry child. Falling to his knees, Tom began violently retching, panic nearly overtaking his carefully constructed self-control at the bright red flakes of blood that covered the floor where he had been coughing.
Just as he was beginning to think he had made a terrible miscalculation, the pain was suddenly gone, leaving him gasping desperately for air. There was an odd emptiness in his chest. There was no other way to describe it.
He slowly reached down to the diary in front of him, which was glowing slightly with a dark, unearthly light. The rush of power he felt when he touched it caused a grotesque smile to stretch its way across his face. This was everything he had hoped for and more. Glancing over at the dead body cooling on the bathroom floor across from him, he found his grin growing wider. What a privilege for her to give her life for this. How had he ever shed a tear over this inconsequential little ant?
The answer came to him immediately. He hadn't cried over the dead witch. Tom Marvolo Riddle had. And he wasn't Tom Riddle anymore, prefect, top of his class, liked by many and respected by all.
He was Lord Voldemort, all-powerful and immortal.
A/N: Thanks for reading everybody. Tossed out this one-shot I wrote a year or so ago in an attempt to spark myself back into writing. Feel free to leave a review if you liked it, or if you didn't - It was really just an attempt to explore a bit of Tom Riddle's past, which we really don't get to see much of, other than what Dumbledore shares. Thanks again for reading, and have a great day.