chapter three

Once Tom Riddle had exited the carriage, he allowed himself to twist the black ring around his finger agitatedly. The feral part of him screamed for him to slip inside, and kill the two girls sitting smugly inside--after all he had already committed three murders. What would two more do to hurt? But his plan was hurriedly discarded when the tea-lady came rattling past with her trolley.

He offered her a tight smile, which she responded to with gusto. It wasn't until she had passed him, did he let his mask slip. Women. They were so easy to decieve. One lingering look, a brushing of the hand and it wasn't long before they melted into a warm gooey puddle. Women were weak. But then the same could be said for men. For even allowing themselves to be seduced by such weak creatures like women.

Tom strode casually back to compartment F, making three pit-stops along the way. Once to confiscate a bag of Knoly-nuts, twice to reprimand first years into not having chanced into their uniform yet. By the time he reached his compartment, he had calmed down enough to open the door smoothly and greet his followers.

"Roldophus," he said quietly and watched as fear crossed the chubby boy's face. Avery, seated beside him, let out a breath of relief and collapsed happily into his seat. His worried expression changing into ease. "Avery," he snapped and watched with truimphance as the fear returned triplefold.

"Were you not responsible for placing the cruciatus curse on Glenda Rowenall?" The question sounded conversationally, and both Roldophus and Avery puffed out their chests in cockiness.

"Of course, my Lord," responded Avery, buffing his nails on his chest. "Did you not read the Prophet coverage? Didn't know who her mummy or daddy was, the last I saw of her."

Roldophus laughed out loud. Tom's eyes flickered to Roldophus before fixing scathingly upon Avery again. "Then perhaps you care to tell me why she is currently in compartment M, actually being able to string two words together, hmm?"

It was almost enlightening to see their faces morph into shock and horror as his words dosed their arrogance. Roldophus and Avery shared a horrified glance before hurrying to justify their worthiness.

"Sir, it was Roldophus whom actually delievered the curse. He is weak, my Lord. His curses are not strong enough-"

"Don't listen to him, my lord. He did not even try to give her pain once she was captured-"

"Enough!"

The command was forceful enough to stop Roldophus and Avery in their tracks. They blinked up at him with trepidation as he paced the carriage back and forth. Cutting a formidable figure, with his black robe swishing ethereally by his slim legs.

He paused for a moment, to glare down at the two imbeciles lucky enough to be called deatheaters. "You two will be punished in due course. I'd watch your every breath if I were you. It could be your last." Tom laughed mockingly before sending a quick stunner in their direction.

There was a page he had to check in The Legitimate way to being a Prefect, before the train disembarked. And for Glenda Rowenall's sake, the prefect rule had better be wrong.


By the time Roldophus had manged to come around, his master was sitting apposite him with an ashen-face, staring- no, glaring- at a book in front of him.

Avery was already stirring beside him when Tom looked up from his book grimly, his coal black eyes hooded. Catching a glimpse of the pair before him he snarled, making them both leap back in their seats, before getting up abruptly and hefting his suitcase from the storage rack.

The moment he stepped outside, Tom rearranged his ugly expression into one of polite disdain as a fourth year batted her eyelashes at him. He responded with a cruel smirk. Pushing past a huddle of second-years, one whom promptly fainted after seeing him, Tom searched over the heads of milling students for the familar shade of brown to catch his eye.

To his anger and frustration, he saw nothing. And promptly pushed a first-year over as she was reaching for her suitcase. Immediately she fell, and with the drama only a 11-year-old could possess began bawling her eyes out for a dribble of blood working it's way down her knee. Not knowing her assailant was a sixth year prefect, she looked beseechingly up at him as if silently asking him to bring her tormentor to justice.

Feeling cruel, and a bubble of mirth welling up in as he imagined placing himself under the cruciatus curse, he promptly turned on another first-year boy, and deducted sixty points. Tom firmly hoped the boy would end up in Gryffindor. Adding Porter's five points, the house would already be in the negatives before term even started.

The sorting ceremony did nothing to brighten his dampening mood, but there was a minor highlight when the boy he deducted points off was sorted into...."GRYFFINDOR!" The girl he pushed over, unfortunately was sorted into Slytherin and he watched in disgust as she attempted to gain some sympathy for her plight from the bloody baron. But then the tears she was spouting was clearly false, so maybe there was hope for the girl yet.

Not for the first time, he let his eyes wander to the Gryffindor table, and felt his hatred multiplying when he saw the empty seat by Porter. So Rowenall decided she could skip the opening feast, did she? By the time, dessert had arrived he couldn't stand the falsities any longer. Abruptly standing up, he ordered, "Bellatrix. Look after the first-years, will you? I need to go to the toilet."

Bellatrix definitely looked suspicious but did not question him as he strode out of The Great Hall, unstopped. Although he had the uncanny feeling the dotty Transfiguration teacher was following him with piercing eyes. Damn him. He was the only one yet to fall under his spell.

Tom took his time, making his way up the floors. Blasting doors open to classrooms with ease. The feast was yet to end for another hour and until then the entire castle would be empty to do what he pleased. And that involved tracking down one irritating, pesky little girl.

He felt powerful. Like he was hunting down prey, that had no chance of escaping. With every door he blasted open, and every bathroom he looked in, he could feel the anticipation growing stronger and stronger. At last he was on the fourth floor, facing the magnificent doors into Hogwarts Library itself. In the darkness, Tom could just make out the flickering of a lamp through the stained glass. He hadn't tried to mask his movements. He had wanted her to hear every last step. With amusement, he watched as the reflection of the lamp inside the library extinguish as if someone had hurriedly put out the flame.

"Bingo," he whispered, his mouth twisting into a cruel smirk.

thank-you norine. mwah mwah mwah. here's another speedy update. the rest of you? please fuel my passion and review :) need something to talk about? ok then. what did you think of voldy's excuse for getting out of dinner? lolz.