You guys are lovely for reading and reviewing, if it weren't for you, I definitely would not have nearly as much motivation to keep updating! Here's a rare chapter from Tom's pov, don't get too used to it, we'll only be hearing from his side of everything on occasion. And if you're interested, I've posted a short drabble for our favorite Dark Lord's birthday. I hope you all enjoy!
With his promotion to prefect, Tom Riddle's fifth year was proving to be more pleasant than even his first year at the school. As usual, his classes were horribly simple and never proved the challenge he wished, but they were still interesting, as easy as they were. Magic, even the most artless of spells and potions would never cease to intrigue him. He wished to bury himself so far into this world of witchery that any lingering amount of muggle blood was far from his mind, so far that no one would ever know that he had ever seen the muggle world and their ugly, primitive ways first hand.
Being a prefect earned him a position of power and respect among the students of Hogwarts and he reveled in it. Compared to some of the other prefects, Tom was surprisingly fair and lenient. He, unlike some, did not deduct points from other houses simply because of long held rivalries and he certainly did not grant his own house points. He would not abuse this position in such lowly ways. No, instead, he held this power over the heads of those he disliked, always dangling the threat of lost points when they would step outside the lines. Always with a very true allegation of their wrongdoings, how they had went against this code or broken a horribly vague rule that, while the other students had never heard of it, certainly sounded like a rule that Hogwarts must have. And if he intended to befriend someone, gain their trust? What better to offer than the protection that befriending a prefect could provide? After all, Tom himself knew that the bullied and ignored often knew things, very useful and interesting things indeed.
The outcasts were not his only friends— not that he would truthfully refer to anyone with such a title—he also had another group. All from his year and house, these were students that he had befriended early on. None of them were all that bright, merely rather lacking in morals and more than interested in themselves and what the young Mr. Riddle could give him. Walburga and Orion, two second cousins from the Black family, betrothed to each other upon birth according to long standing traditions of blood purity. Walburga, a wiry girl with a severe face shared her harsh and off-putting personality with Orion, who in contrast, was bulky and intimidating thanks to his sheer size and hard set jaw. The two could hardly stand each other and the rest of the wizarding world was even worse off. Then, there was the young Malfoy, Abraxas, who with his long blond hair and father's money, went about acting as if he owned the school and everyone in it. He and the Black's associated because of family ties—no family in the Sacred Twenty-Eight outside of the Weasely's made it their goal to isolate themselves for even personal opinion did not trump the preservation of pure blood. And, after a while of tagging along with the dark haired pair, Abraxas had learned to hold his tongue and watch his audience.
Tom Riddle, with his sharp mind had made an easy time of befriending the trio. Hinting at preference for pure blood and actively avoiding them got them interested, continuing it kept them there. Being a prefect had merely cemented their choices, not that they could get out at this point.
No, they were more than just friends, they were followers. The Knights of Walpurgis; that is what they had come to call themselves behind closed doors, all hexed to protect from prying ears. Witches and Wizards that shared interest in dark magic and all the power it could bring, power that, with Tom's guiding hand could be shaped and used as he wished.
To everyone, this group, the Knights, were merely Tom's friends. Professors were happy to see that intelligent, orphaned boy finally with a group of friends all his own and so none thought to question when they did as Tom asked. Students, too charmed or intimidated by him, rarely even noticed. All just as Tom preferred.
The Hargrave family however, did not come so easily and never had. The first Hargrave he had encountered was not much different from the masses, or had seemed as much for four years. The sorting ceremony had provided him with a concise list of students in his year and even being so fresh to the wizarding world, he had known to take note of them—especially those sorted into his house. So when his name was called and the hat placed on his head said with no particularly pleasant tone, "Slytherin," he ran the list through his mind. Among many, Mazarine Hargrave had also been placed in his house. When the hat had been set on her unruly curls, the girl's bright smile had faded quickly, as unlike with many before her, the hat seemed uncertain and as a frown started to make its way across her face, she began to fail at keeping her voice down.
However, before she was able to hold an argument with that ratty brown hat, it had shut her up with a snappy, "Fine," before shouting out, "Slytherin!" While that seemed to please her, as her shoulders had dropped ever so slightly, she had still taken the time to toss it at the Professor who had set it on her head before stomping away.
He'd learned later, through overheard conversations, that she had two older brothers, one in their house, and another in Gryffindor. The Gryffindor child had been a disappointment to the family, as apparently, the family was a historically Slytherin group, and the boy was distinctly Gryffindor—loud, rowdy, and hot headed, but still horribly worried about what was "right" and "just". With her boisterous nature and hard headed ways, Mazarine was very similar to the Gryffindor boy, but still, it seemed that she had been different enough for the hat to be convinced she would fit with the snakes.
For most of their years however, Tom disagreed. She was not particularly intelligent—in most of her courses she put in only the bare amount of work necessary to keep her prized spot on the Quidditch team. The girl only excelled in two classes, transfiguration and defense against the dark arts, and anything that was not as interesting, she avoided like the plague. She had a childish sense of humor that took the form of hexes and jinxes thrown out in bustling halls and her excitement often came from breaking rules or going against social norms. After all, she had shocked the school when she stole a spot on an all-male quidditch team in her third year and she continued to hold her own in that arena. Tom thought her a simpleton and he was sure she thought him dull and overbearing.
Her Gryffindor brother, Declan, was only a year ahead of them, but even if it had not been for the house separation, Tom would have never even bothered with him. He was very open about his feelings on dark magic and on Muggle and Mudbloods. While still a member of a pure blood family and with thoughts still heavily steeped in their beliefs, Declan did not stand for violence toward their kind and was starchily against the use of dark magic in any manner. If anything, Tom considered him an annoyance and a possible obstacle to overcome if he were to get involved.
The eldest of the girl's siblings, Cowal, was two years ahead of them and reminded him of the Black cousins, but in all the most unpleasant ways. He was a stupidly cruel boy who looked down on just about everyone and rarely even bothered with respect where it was due. While it was clear the boy had his talents, had potential as a wizard, he was too caught up in himself to be swayed and so Tom did not bother.
However, Tom was finding himself having to reconsider some of his assumptions about the family. There was obvious unrest between the siblings, the youngest, Vaughnn seemed weak and sickly, Mazarine was acting out—becoming progressively less interested in playing her role in the family, Declan was branching away to pursue his own moral stance, and Cowal, so intent on being in control was lashing out at all of them. Mazarine, who for most of the time they had been at Hogwarts together avoided Tom, had developed a sudden interest in him. He would catch her staring at him in classes or she would happen into the library minutes after he when in previous years, he'd not seen her there once. Tom was not unused to interest from the girls at Hogwarts, not by a longshot, and if the girl had been merely infatuated with him, he would have never bothered to reconsider her, but that was not what this was.
The way she'd be looking at him was if she was attempting to pick him apart. As if he was hiding some secret she could only guess at. This did not frighten him though, for unless he wished it, she would never even be able to guess at the secrets he hid. She was trying though, and in her own way, trying to catch his interest as well. While she did not normally bother with her grades, it seemed that her highest marks were suddenly rising and she was not running far below him when it came to those courses. She was more active in their shared classes and if he caught her eye when she was staring her way, the girl didn't turn away immediately, nor did she blush as most of them would.
When he decided to return some of that interest, he found himself quite entertained. What on the surface appeared to be simple unrest was more like violent discord. Cowal's anger was manifesting not just in words, but in physical action, and Declan, normally well-mannered with everyone seemed to be on a hair trigger himself. And Mazarine, forced to play mother to her two older brothers, was stepping between them less and less frequently.
Little comments thrown here and there had Tom questioning his knowledge of this family and, this dissent, Tom decided, could be used to his advantage.