Title inspired by: "Watch your character, for it becomes your destiny." -Unknown
Prompt: Discovery, given as a Level One homework in Hogwarts Online by Professor Monse, Head of Slytherin House. Hope you like this, Professor!
Fulfils Challenge 23 on the "Bellatrix Lestrange: The Dark Lord's Most Faithful" forum. (Even though this is super late and the challenge is already over. :P)
Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.
Watch Your Character
If that Mudblood doesn't shut up about that dead toad of hers, I'll curse her, Tom Riddle thought sourly.
No, you won't, his less rash side instantly contradicted. You'd get into trouble for that, and that wouldn't do you any good.
Had the twelve-year-old been any less adept at masking his emotions, his classmates would have seen his face take on an expression of great annoyance, frustration and reluctant resignation. Patience was a virtue, yes, but that didn't mean he had to like it.
The classroom door swung open and Professor Dumbledore strode in, his violet robes billowing behind him. Some students looked up in alarm and instantly began racing to their seats; their efforts proved to be futile, however, as the professor stopped by Lisa and asked kindly, "What happened, Miss Kinsley?"
She sniffed, "M-M-My toad! I woke up this morning and he was d-d-deeeeeeead," she wailed, breaking into uncontrollable sobs again. Tom fought the urge to cover his ears.
"Professor Dumbledore?" This voice- inquisitive, almost a bit desperate- came from Jamie Grayson, who currently had her arms around her distraught best friend. "Is there anything you can do? You're a great wizard, can't you just bring Jackson back to life?"
Tom's ears pricked up; as much as he hated to admit it, the Gryffindor had just made a good point. Why couldn't magic bring things back to life? After all, it was magic…
The Transfiguration teacher smiled sadly. "Miss Grayson, have you ever heard The Tale of the Three Brothers?"
She shook her head, frowning confusedly, while several others in the class began talking excitedly, exclaiming, "I've heard that one!" or "How haven't you heard of it, Grayson?" or "Oh yeah, that's one of Beedle's tales!"
The whispers immediately died down as soon as Dumbledore raised one hand in the air. Even Tom felt compelled to stare at him; as much as he hated the old coot, he was as powerful as they came- less powerful than Tom would be one day, perhaps, but powerful, all the same.
"As Miss Grayson and a number of other students in this class have not heard the story," the teacher began, "I will tell it. It contains a valuable lesson that I believe you all should learn, and which applies directly to this situation."
As he strode to the front of the classroom, sitting down at his desk, the rest of the class sat down and, eventually, their excited murmurs died down. He looked each and every one of them in the eye- was it Tom's imagination, or was the stare he received longer than the others?- before beginning the tale.
"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight. In time, the brothers reached a river too deep to wade through and too dangerous to swim across," he began. The children fidgeted in their seats, listening eagerly; Tom, however, took out a piece of parchment and a quill, disappointed. He had thought that maybe a wizarding fairytale would be less cliché than a Muggle one; the beginning didn't seem too promising.
Tom Marvolo Riddle, he wrote on the paper.
"However, these brothers were learned in the magical arts, and so they simply waved their wands and made a bridge appear across the treacherous water. They were halfway across when they found their path blocked by a hooded figure. And Death spoke to them-"
"Death?" a Gryffindor boy spoke up loudly. "That's crazy! Death's not a person!"
Tom nearly scoffed. Of course Death wasn't a person- it was a story. It wasn't true. In fact, that was exactly what Dumbledore told the idiot boy- though, admittedly, in nicer words. Then the professor continued the story:
"And Death spoke to them. He was angry that he had been cheated out of three new victims, for travelers usually drowned in the river. But Death was cunning. He pretended to congratulate the three brothers upon their magic, and said that each had earned a prize for having been clever enough to evade him."
Some of the Slytherins snickered at this. Tom smirked to himself- Death was clearly a Slytherin.
"So the oldest brother, who was a combative man, asked for a wand more powerful than any in existence: a wand that must always win duels for its owner, a wand worthy of a wizard who had conquered Death! So Death crossed to an elder tree on the banks of the river, fashioned a wand from the branch that hung there, and gave it to the oldest brother."
I would like a wand like that, Tom thought to himself. The most powerful wand in the world, in existence... I would be invincible. People would have to worship me; I would be like a… like a king, or a lord.
His mind in the clouds, thinking about what he would change if he was all-powerful, he subconsciously wrote "Lord" under his name on his parchment.
Dumbledore went on, "Then the second brother, who was an arrogant man, decided that he wanted to humiliate Death still further, and asked for the power to recall others from Death. So Death picked up a stone from the riverbank and gave it to the second brother, and told him that the stone would have the power to bring back the dead."
Lisa gasped. Tom sat up a little straighter.
"And then Death asked the third and youngest brother what he would like. The Youngest brother was the humblest and also the wisest of the brothers, and he did not trust Death." Of course, the youngest is the smart one, Tom rolled his eyes. Just like in the Muggle fairytales, too. Preposterous. Dumbledore went on, "So he asked for something that would enable him to go forth from that place without being followed by Death. And Death, most unwillingly, handed over his own Cloak of Invisibility.
Tom looked down at his parchment. The word "lord," he only now noticed, could be made from some letters in his name, and there were still some left that he had not yet used. What could he make from them? A name, perhaps- the name he would use when he was all-powerful- I will be someday, I am sure of it- yes, that was a good idea. He needed something to do while he listened to the tale anyways.
"Then Death stood aside and allowed the three brothers to continue on their way and they did so, talking with wonder of the adventure they had had, and admiring Death's gifts. In due course the brothers separated, each for his own destination."
A 'V,' Tom decided. Very few people have names that begin with a 'v'… it will do more to set me apart from the others, who must look up to me. He wrote a careful V on his parchment.
"The first brother travelled on for a week or more, and reaching a distant village, sought out a fellow wizard with whom he had a quarrel. Naturally, with the Elder Wand as his weapon, he could not fail to win the duel that followed. Leaving his enemy dead upon the floor, the oldest brother proceeded to an inn, where he boasted loudly of the powerful wand he had snatched from Death himself, and of how it made him invincible.
"That very night, another wizard crept upon the oldest brother as he lay, wine-sodden, upon his bed. The thief took the wand and, for good measure, slit the oldest brother's throat.
"And so Death took the first brother for his own."
The class listened with rapt attention; Tom inwardly bemoaned the older brother's actions. Had he not been stupid, he could have used that wand for great things. Tom knew that if he had the chance, he would handle the wand much more intelligently than its old owner.
Old. That word looked better with an e at the end, really. Making a split-second decision, he wrote olde after the V. So now his name would be Lord Volde… what?
"Meanwhile, the second brother journeyed to his own home, where he lived alone. Here he took out the stone that had the power to recall the dead, and turned it thrice in his hand. To his amazement and his delight, the figure of the girl he had once hoped to marry before her untimely death, appeared at once before him.
"Yet she was sad and cold, separated from him as by a veil. Though she had returned to the mortal world, she did not truly belong there and suffered." Dumbledore turned his gaze towards Lisa and Jamie sadly, who nodded that they understood as tears streamed down the former's face, before going on. "Finally, the second brother, driven mad with hopeless longing, killed himself so as to truly join her.
"And so Death took the second brother for his own."
So that was the answer. What Dumbledore wanted the class to learn. Apparently, magic could not bring back the dead. But this is just a fairytale, Tom reminded himself. Who says that this Beedle character can't be wrong?
His mind raced into action, forming possibility after possibility, and he was so lost in his thoughts that he barely even registered the rest of the story.
"But thought Death searched for the third brother for many years, he was never able to find him. It was only when he had attained a great age that the younger brother finally took off the Cloak of Invisibility and gave it to his son. And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life."
The professor looked around at his pupils with almost apologetic eyes. "As you can see by the second brother's story, the dead are not to be brought back," he explained. "When a being dies, they are meant to stay wherever they go when they die, and magic cannot change that."
Why can't it? Tom thought. It's magic: it can turn a book into a horse, summon a pencil from another room, burn a cupboard without harming anything inside it, transport people instantly from anyplace in the world to any other place in the world. Dumbledore's powerful, but who is he to say that Death can't be beaten?
He scribbled mort onto his parchment- it was the French word for "death," after all.
Professor Dumbledore called out, all solemnities over and a benevolent smile on his face, "Now, let us begin the lesson. I fear that as I took up unexpected time with that story, we will have to work quickly, unless you would like more homework. Now, today we're going to work on Transfiguring plants into goblets; this will help prepare us for our next lesson, when we will Transfigure animals into goblets. Please, everyone, get in your pairs, and we will start."
Tom knew that he didn't have to move; one of his "friends" would come to him. Sure enough, a second later, he glanced over to see Lestrange sitting there. He nodded at the boy in acknowledgement before turning to frown at his parchment. There were two matters occupying his mind. One was the fact that there were three infuriating letters left that he somehow had to fit into his all-powerful name. The other was Death.
There's been no shortage of magical discoveries over the course of time, Tom thought, his young brain whirring. Who's to say that another one can't be made? According to this story, Death is seemingly invincible… But all that means is that he is a worthy opponent.
The solutions to both his problems clicked in his head at the same time. Smirking, he wrote down his last words on the parchment with a flourish and reread the short sentence:
I am Lord Voldemort.
Yes, yes I will be, he thought, his eyes flashing with anticipation as Dumbledore began the lesson.
XxxxX
In regard to the prompt- discovery- I know I didn't so much as put the word anywhere in the story; however, it is centered around a young Tom Riddle discovering his goal and, as a result, who he will become. In any case, I hope this qualifies- I want to earn points for the noble Slytherin House!
Hope you all liked it; I actually have a good feeling about this one, though I could be wrong. Thanks for reading; please review!
-Joelle8