Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.
Edited and reloaded - 17 July 2013
Tomorrow's Bleeding
Tom slammed his trunk shut. He stared around the empty Head Boy room, taking in all areas to make sure he had packed everything. Upon finding nothing remaining in the room, he sat down on the bed.
It was his last night at Hogwarts. Tomorrow, he'd be kicked out of the only place he'd ever felt at home. Refusing to allow himself to dwell on that fact— nor the fact tomorrow he was falling asleep in a tiny, uncomfortable bed in his microscopic flat— Tom, reopened his trunk and pulled out one of the books on horcruxes.
He had not planned to steal the books from the library, but after decoding the information contained within, he did not want the information to ever be out of his possession. The only book he let go was the one he had borrowed from the Blacks. He almost chanced the curse, but it was written in Parseltounge and Tom was the only known speaker so he knew no one else would be able to read the book. He did not want anyone to know how to destroy the horcruxes he planned to make. The only person who knew he was interested in them was Slughorn.
It had been a grave mistake to ask the man about them. While he had gotten what he wanted from the man, the thought of seven horcruxes appalled the man. He had stared at Tom as if he did not know him. But, Slughorn was a Slytherin. He'd never tell anyone about Tom asking.
Little mind. Slughorn failed to see the magic with seven horocruxes. The strength. The power.
Tom knew how to make them, how to spell the storage units and much more than anyone else before on the subject matter. He did not see why people thought splitting your soul was so evil. It allowed one to remained tied to this world, tethered to life. Life was better than death.
And in keeping all known books (except one) in his possession, Tom would be invincible.
He pushed the books to the side, catching a glimpse of something he had not looked at in over a year: Calliope's trunk.
Dumbledore had given it to him, after going through it himself no doubt. Tom felt a surge of anger run through his veins.
He was ready to be done with that meddling fool.
Pulling out the shrunken trunk, Tom resized it. He opened the lid and stared into the trunk. Her first year books were there, except for the ones she had had on her. Her spare robes were folded neatly, along with her uniform. Her spare shoes were sitting on the bottom, next to her container of quills and ink pots. The thing he was most upset that was missing was the guitar he'd spelled for her. Tom had never been able to find it to destroy it when he'd hunted down all Atlanta Black's things related to that blasted song. He had no idea where Calliope had found it during the Christmas holidays and it was missing from the trunk.
Tom knew Dumbledore had it. He had requested Dumbledore return it to him, but Dumbledore pretended not to know what Tom was talking about.
"Bastard," Tom muttered.
He was about to slam the lid, when he noticed a bag. Her school bag had been missing, as she had it on her when she vanished. He pulled the mysterious bag out slowly, amazed Dumbledore had left this bag in the trunk when Tom realized what it was.
It was the bag of Atlanta Black, the girl who had appeared out of Tom's un-charmed, very Muggle diary. The girl Tom had erased and replaced with his sister.
The bag was made out of good quality leather. It was soft and smooth. He carefully opened the flap, flipping it back. It made a soft smacking noise. Within the bag were books— books from the future. He pulled one out. It was a Herbology text, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi.
Tom flipped the cover back and saw the last copyright date: 1986.
The other book was A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration. Copyright: 1968.
Tom frowned. He'd thought Atlanta Black had come from fifty years before his time? These books were all old and used. The transfiguration book was in horrible shape. The cover was almost falling off.
What did a child who clearly had money (based on the state of the bag and all her other belongings) doing with ratty, used books?
Tucking the books back into the bag, he riffled through her pieces of Muggle notebook paper, finding a rolled up scroll. Unrolling it, he found an essay she'd written for Herbology.
He was not impressed.
He threw it out.
Tom threw out all the Muggle notebooks filled with notes, only keeping the one that was clearly where she wrote her own words down. There were pages filled with random sentences, random words, random melodies.
No where was the melody or lyrics that haunted him. Those had clearly come to her once she was with him and never wrote them down in her notebook. He went through the bag, trying to find somewhere that song was written down on, but found nothing.
He had destroyed all evidence of that song.
Tom went through the entire bag. He found strange objects made out of a hard material that wasn't metal or wood. He turned one of these objects over in his hands a few times before putting it back in the bag. Tom was pretty sure it was supposed to be a mermaid, but it was too bright and colorful. And it wasn't ugly.
She also had a rubber ducky in her bag. Tom quirked an eyebrow.
At the bottom of the school bag, he found a rolled up robe. Unrolling it he found it was the robe she'd arrived in. She had never washed it, simply shoved it away in the bag. He had no idea where the rest of her strange, future uniform had gone, but it was not in the bag. Only the robe. He turned it around in his hands, studying it.
Tom eyed the Gryffindor patch on the front, dotted with her blood. He ripped the patch off the robe and fingered the it, tracing that stupid, roaring lion with it's red and gold stitching. Leering at it, an idea occurred to him.
He stopped leering.
Standing, he held the patch in the palm of his hand. He glanced back at his trunk, at the secret compartment he stored that charmed diary in. He eyed the books on horcruxes.
Smiling, he closed his hand around the patch.
He opened the diary and put the patch in. He cut a square of her robe, an area she'd clearly used to stanch her nose for an extended period. Grabbing his potions kit Slughorn had gifted him for graduation, he extracted her blood from the cloth. Looking at the tiny vial of red liquid, he smirked.
"I'll get you back, my pretty," he said to the empty room, shaking the contents.
He laughed a cold, high pitched laugh. It echoed around his room, fading away before it reached the hallways.