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Hunted
By Gaerdir
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"If we act like prey, they'll act like predators." - Alyxandra Harvey
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Helga Hufflepuff was one of the greatest witches in the history of Magic.
Sadly, her line had dwindled to a small group of snobby wizards and witches who believed that ancestry would carry them to success.
At the forefront of these so-called descendants of the Founder, was an old, chubby witch named Hepzibah Smith. The woman herself was quite delusional, relying on her tiny house-elf to provide positive feedback about her appearance, and she always tried to convince herself she was younger and prettier.
Needless to say, she succeeded.
She was an immensely fat old lady wearing an elaborate ginger wig and a brilliant pink set of robes that flowed all around her, giving her the look of a melting iced cake. Still, she endeavored and tended to dab rouge on to her already scarlet cheeks. She wore tiny slippers, too small for her feet, to complete the delusion and convince herself entirely that she was very beautiful.
It's always the delusional people that are the easiest to prey on.
Tom Marvolo Riddle ghosted into the old witch's life like he had always been there. Tom was an astute boy, he knew what Hepzibah craved, and he gave it in abundance.
Attention. And flattery.
She had what he wanted. He would play this puny little game, this tiny meaningless hunt, until the pathetic witch gave in to her inner voice and told him what he wanted. It was cleaner that way. He would come out looking totally innocent, especially with that house-elf nearby.
And so he played.
He visited every two days, bringing gifts and complimenting her appearance. He brought her little trinkets to add to her mountain of collections. He had tea with her, and lavished attention on her, impatiently waiting for the end. He began to subtly imply that he was very interested in Founder's artifacts, and would be extremely happy to see one.
The poor thing began to think of surprising him with her family heirloom, Tom could see it. He was beside himself with triumph and giddiness. Finally, the endgame had come.
The foolish smile on the old witch's face as she eagerly drunk in his young face staring at the cup in awe only made the victory all the more sweeter. He watched as her smile faltered when he turned to her, a red glint flashing across his eye.
But as quickly as it came, the falter vanished, and Hepzibah smiled happily as he thanked her and went on his way, making his plans to return in the night.
Night fell.
A figure quickly stole into the household, got what he needed, and then set up the conclusion of the little game.
A quick memory charm allowed Tom to get away with cold murder, blaming an old, innocent house-elf who was then put to death.
Really, the delusional?
They're the easiest to hunt.
FIN