The Things You Learn
Tom Riddle learns about how to win friends and influence people, courtesy of Abraxas Malfoy and Thoros Nott. Written for the prompt "Before I met you".
I'd been listening to the other Slytherin boys for awhile now, hunting for social levers, when Thoros Nott shoved into Abraxas Malfoy, and Malfoy sneered "Mudblood" at him. It was clearly an insult, and Nott looked offended.
"Hey now," said Nott, "no need to get nasty."
Malfoy smirked. "Then stop acting like one."
I arched an eyebrow. "Mudblood?"
Malfoy arched an eyebrow right back. "You really were raised by wolves, weren't you?"
I shrugged. "So were the founders of Rome, more or less. Worked out well enough for them."
Malfoy flashed that smirk again. "Point. 'Mudblood' is someone whose bloodline is sullied by Muggles. Lesser than those with purer blood, who never interbred with filth."
"Lesser?"
"Lesser," said Nott. "The purer the blood, the better you are at magic, for one. Slytherin's heir will definitely be a pureblood. He'll be the strongest of us."
I smiled. This was almost too easy. "So if someone of unknown ancestry showed strong magical ability…?"
"We'd know their blood was pure, yeah." Malfoy's eyes glinted with arrogant interest. "So, Tommy boy, what can you do?"
I really hated when they called me that. I channeled that hatred into a familiar rush that built behind my chest wall, bursting like an invisible daggered net onto Nott, each point infused with a simple command: KNEEL.
Nott fell to his knees in front of me, a calm, glazed look on his face.
Malfoy stared. "Nott, what are you doing?"
I refrained from rolling my eyes. "He's kneeling because I'm making him."
Malfoy snorted. "Sure you are. You didn't say anything."
"Why would I need to say anything?"
"Because that's how it's done, of course."
"Is it? Why?"
"Why, he asks." Malfoy's mouth twisted in disdain as he poked at Nott. "Because that's the way it is, once you get past accidental magic."
The strain of the invisible daggered net was getting to me, and I let it go. The kneeling boy shook himself and stood up.
Malfoy crossed his arms. "Nott, what were you doing down there?"
Nott looked shaken. "I...I'm not sure."
"Riddle here says he made you do that."
Nott's shoulders tightened. "Of course not."
"Thought so. Riddle here was just grandstanding. Probably because he can't do anything." His eyes grew colder. "Probably because he's a half-blood."
I stared at the expensive silver serpentine clasp on Malfoy's cloak and cursed softly in the snake language so no one would hear how frustrated I was. "Oh, for fuck'ss ssake."
Malfoy and Nott froze.
Nott recovered first. "Hissing like a snake won't make us believe you can speak Parseltongue, Riddle. So just give it a rest."
"Parseltongue?"
Nott snorted. "The language of snakes."
"What's so special about that?"
Malfoy was looking at me with some consideration. "Slytherin could speak it. And so will his heir."
I smiled. "Because of the bloodline."
"Of course." Malfoy was definitely reconsidering his assessment of me.
I leaned conspiratorially towards them. "I'll just keep that in mind, shall I?"
