August 1970
Bellatrix walked briskly up through the gates and gardens of Malfoy Manor. Through the wrought iron and fine rose bushes she went, her boots padding all the way. She had only been a Death Eater for a few months, so she had been here but a scant few times. She had received an owl from Abraxas Malfoy to gather, though she had no idea why. Shouldn't she have received such orders from her lord and master, Bellatrix contemplated?
In any case, she opened the main door of the house, determined to obey, and she rushed inside. She went up the foyer stairs and through the first-floor corridor to the meeting room. Two dozen Death Eaters had gathered inside. There was no war yet, but there would be. These, the ones who had come today, were Lord Voldemort's early pledges. Mostly, they were the ones who had attended school with him and had been a part of his gang. That group included Bellatrix's father, Cygnus Black III, as well as Rudy Lestrange. Rudy's sons, Rabastan and Rodolphus, had been granted entry to the inner circle owing to their tough-boy personas. Others at the table now included Mulciber, Avery, Nott, Yaxley, and others who had done Tom Riddle's bidding at Hogwarts. As for Bellatrix herself, she'd been made a Death Eater because Cygnus Black had shared with his master stories of his eldest daughter's Dark, vicious cruelty.
Bellatrix took a seat now at the table, and soon enough, Abraxas Malfoy began to speak.
"It is my duty," he said, "to ask whether anyone here gathered has seen or heard from our master in the past two weeks."
The ensuing silence was positively deafening. Bellatrix felt queasy and nervous as she realised the implications of what was being said.
"I have tried every method I possess of getting in contact with him," Abraxas continued, "but I have heard nothing. Seen nothing. It seems that our master is missing."
"Perhaps he does not wish to be found," suggested Mulciber.
"What if he is in danger?" snapped Bellatrix.
"He is the most powerful wizard in the world," Cygnus reassured his daughter. "You think we could do something he could not?"
"What if he is in need of us?" Bellatrix demanded.
"He could call us through our Marks," Rabastan Lestrange reminded her. Bellatrix seethed.
"Then we should wait in silence for him?"
There was more helpless quiet then. Finally, Abraxas Malfoy said,
"I will be in contact the moment I hear anything. Or he will be. Until then, kindly notify the rest of us should you find anything out. Thank you."
Bellatrix frowned deeply as she rose from her seat at the table and stalked over to her father.
"What's become of him? I'm worried sick."
Cygnus threw his hands up. "There is nothing any of us can do, Bellatrix. He is a powerful wizard. He is more than capable of figuring out his own situation. He will return to us when it is convenient for him."
Bellatrix crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Are you certain, Father?"
Cygnus tipped his head and hesitated. "No, I am not certain. I am hopeful, which is the most any of us can be. Let's go home. It's late."
August 1945
Tom Riddle used his wand to Scour dust from the items on display in Borgin and Burkes. First, he cleaned a mummified foot, getting every bit of dust from the toenails and knuckles. Then he cleaned off a statue of a corpse reclining on a rock. He dusted an olive wood ring that was said to bring good luck, and then he Scoured an Everlasting Candle. As he worked, Tom contemplated that perhaps he ought to have done as everyone said and taken a Ministry position, after all. He was wasting away here in Borgin and Burkes, and it was only a few months after graduation. News of the Dumbledore/Grindelwald duel had dominated the papers and the Wireless ever since it had happened. All people cared about were heroes. Tom Riddle needed an opportunity to be a hero to the people of the wizarding world. He needed an opportunity to climb.
The bell above the door rang, and Tom looked up to see Evangeline Avery and Annina Mulciber come walking into the shop.
"Hello, ladies," said Tom in the most jovial voice he could manage. Evangeline and Annina were both pretty girls who had gone to school with Tom. "Can I help you find anything?"
Both girls giggled like mad, and Annina pushed her wavy hair out of her face as she grinned. Suddenly Tom realised they'd come for him, not for the shop's wares, and he sighed. He was rather used to this sort of thing, as it happened. Girls at school had flirted relentlessly with Tom, and even when he'd shown less than no interest, they'd persisted. He'd learnt how to be strategic with witches.
"I have just the thing to show you two today, actually," he said, gesturing to a shelf by the wall. "It's called an Everlasting Candle. Burns forever, and it smells however you'd prefer. Shall I show you?"
"Oh, certainly, Tom." Evangeline and Annina jostled for a position near Tom as he Conjured flame into the candle, and then he flashed them a winning smile as he asked,
"What does it smell like, Evangeline?"
"Ooh, this is like Amortentia," Evangeline noted. "Erm… smells like roses to me. Lovely."
"Warm vanilla biscuits to me," said Annina. "And you, Tom?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Like old books on a rainy day."
"How delightfully strange." Annina giggled ferociously, and Tom blew out the flame. He picked up the candle and cocked up a brow.
"It's only three Galleons to an interested party."
Evangeline raised her hand and followed Tom up to the front counter. She opened her purse and counted out three Galleons, which Tom put into the till before carefully wrapping and bagging the Everlasting Candle for Evangeline. She cleared her throat and said carefully,
"Are you busy tonight? Tom?"
Tom moved a bit more slowly as he handed her the bag. He chewed his lip and tipped his head.
"Miss Avery, are you asking me out?"
"Maybe I am," she grinned, her green eyes shining. Annina looked shocked. Tom smirked and nodded.
"I would very much like to meet you at the White Wyvern at seven. Thank you."
Evangeline grinned and nodded, her face flushing red. Now Annina looked mad with jealousy. The girls left then, sending the bell ringing again. Tom rolled his eyes, not at all looking forward to buying dinner for a clingy young witch.
"Tom, my boy." Mr Borgin came hobbling out from the back of the store, and Tom turned to him with a false, warm smile. Mr Borgin held out a necklace that looked like a pocket-watch on a long chain. "This is new inventory. Cursed. Find a good spot for it in the shop."
"Yes, Mr Borgin." Tom knew better than to ask exactly how the object was Cursed. If Mr Borgin didn't elaborate, then it wasn't Tom's business. He took the clock necklace and made his way out onto the shop floor, going to a glass display case full of jewelry items. He opened the glass door and slipped the chain of the necklace over one wrist, using his hands to move the jewelry inside the case around to make a new spot.
Suddenly the necklace slipped off of his wrist and hand, moving so quickly and deliberately that it seemed to fall of its own volition. It landed with a hard thud-crash, crackling into a hundred pieces. Even the brass backing of the watch shattered. Tom gasped and scowled, crouching and pulling his wand from its holster. He aimed it at the shattered, ruined watch and murmured, quietly enough so Mr Borgin wouldn't hear,
"Reparo. Reparo. Reparo." It wasn't working. The watch pieces didn't so much as twitch. Impulsively, Tom reached for the shattered pieces, something he would later regard as the most foolish thing he'd ever done. He pawed through them, thinking he was going to get sacked for this.
All of a sudden, his fingers went numb. He was profoundly dizzy, so he sat back on his bum and tipped his head back. He fell onto his back, smacking his head on the ground. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling quite ill. Everything was spinning. Then everything was whirling, pinching, yanking. Then everything was black, cold, and quiet.
When Tom opened his eyes at last, the dizziness and nausea had faded. He was in an armchair before an empty fireplace. He rose slowly and looked around the room. It was an office, he could tell at once. There were bookshelves on the walls. There was a desk. There were windows, outside which he could see expansive gardens. Tom's heart accelerated. Had those Cursed pieces been a Portkey? He'd been moved. Where was he? In someone's office? He walked over to the office door and opened it, stepping out into the corridor to find himself in somebody's grand house. Suddenly a tall, imposing figure with a queue of icy blond hair turned a corner and froze. His pale blue eyes gave him away at once - a Malfoy. He stared, his mouth dropping open, and he said in a voice of sheer disbelief,
"Tom?"
Author's Note: Yes, this is going to be a Tom Riddle/Bellatrix story. Get ready for it! I'm excited for this one, guys. Hope you are, too. Thanks for reading and so much love for feedback.