A/N A small In-between chapter. Not a real chapter, just something short I wrote in between studying when I needed a break. It's nothing too serious and has no plot. A real, more serious chapter follows it. But after my finals in two weeks. I just didn't want to make you guys wait so much to hear from me.


Chapter 48: Birdie

One year later.

Hogwarts.

"Charles!" Nott, his roommate and the son of the current Minister of Magic, called him. Charles stopped in the middle of the hallway and looked back. His roommate hurried up to meet him, stopping a moment to catch his breath after the long run. "Look I just saw Riddle and seriously man, hide. He's out to kill you."

"Oh, so it's just a normal day," Charles drawled, bored. "And I thought today would be different." It was like his roommates to exaggerate everything. Tom hadn't seriously tried to kill him in months. Practically a lifetime for the sociopath.

"No, no," Nott gasped, still out of breath, "This time I think he really means it," he said and there was true fear in Nott's eyes. Fear for Charles' safety.

"He always means it," Charles muttered, walking away. "Don't worry," he said for the benefit of his jittery roommate, they were always jittery when it came to Tom, with good reason.

"I can deal with him." Charles walked away without offering much explanation.

In a way, it was funny to think that his roommates thought he was the docile and helpless one. While Charles had never been a model student he was far from an incompetent one, but since he rarely sought problems or fights, he was thought as weak. Tom on the other hand had no trouble asserting his dominance through force and continually demonstrated to his peers he was the best in and outside of class.

"It was good knowing you pal," Nott yelled. Charles waved him away without much enthusiasm.

Charles entered the Great Hall for breakfast and immediately felt familiar eyes on him. He looked at the Slytherin table with disinterested eyes. Tom was at the center of the table; in the same spot he always sat but this time there was a large space around him. No one, not even his most devoted followers, wanted to be near him at the moment. The students might not feel Tom's magic as Charles felt it but they knew, deep inside them, it was not a good idea to be near Tom at the moment. Large waves of angry, dark magic cackled around Tom in a way that closely resembled a thunderstorm; Invisible to the naked eye but clearly felt in their overpowering fury. Charles met Tom's angry eyes with his own disinterested ones. Today he was in no mood to humour Tom's childishness. He made sure his eyes delivered the message before he walked off to the Gryffindor table to sit.

Since it was not an odd thing for Charles to occasionally sit with the Lions, no one batted an eye at the green tie in the sea of red. A few of his friends beckoned him to their side of the table with loud yells, making more than the usual ruckus, as if Charles was both blind and deaf.

"Longbotton that's my spot, sit somewhere else," Charles barked at the older boy. With Longbotton's large frame and tittle of Quidditch captain, not many dared to raise their voice above a whisper. It was what the older boy liked about the young snake, he was unafraid as the bravest of Gryffindor and never quailed at screaming at him. Longbotton laughed it off, pushed the person to his left and let the sit open.

"So Charles," Longbotton said with a wicked gleam, "we have this bet going around…"

Longbotton was interrupted by another burly boy, "about how long is going to take for Riddle to kill you."

"The Hufflepuffs are a bit more optimistic and their bet is if he is going to kill you."

"The Ravenclaws betted on the method." Charles eyebrows rose. His eyes travelled to said house meeting some guilty gazes. One of his friends, a tall blonde, winked unashamedly. Charles had no doubt she started the bet and put on the most gruesome method. She was a good friend.

"The Slytherins?" Charles asked with curiosity, his bad mood lifting slightly.

"We haven't heard anything from them since Sunday. I think they are too busy running for their life to care much about the bet."

Charles' eyes travelled the length of the opposite table, his eyes jumping the black spot he knew Tom to be, and for the first time really looked at his Housemates. They did look rather harried. Any loud noise making them jump and drop their utensils.

It was more of a feeling than any sound that had him looking up and towards the doors. A second later Abraxas entered. Apparently more informed with the situation than Charles, the blond immediately headed to the Gryffindor table without pause.

"One of those days, huh?" Abraxas asked with sympathy, pushing another boy to take his sit. If anyone understood being at the other end of a sociopath's wrath, it was Abraxas.

Charles sighed and stubbornly kept eating.

"What did you do?" Abraxas asked with curiosity.

"What makes you think I did something?" Charles asked as he speared a sausage and bit it angrily.

"Because you are avoiding him. If he was to blame, you would be flaying him alive."

"I don't want to talk about it," Charles muttered, spearing a carrot with his fork and biting it with force. Thankfully, Abraxas let it go.

Halfway through breakfast, Tom stood up abruptly and made his way to the Gryffindor table. Charles was surprised he lasted as long. The Gryffindor table hushed as Tom neared the table and it was completely silent by the time he was behind Charles. The students near Charles inched away, not knowing why they felt so much fear. The more sensitive ones looked pale and ready to vomit the closer Tom got. Having been witness to much worse fights, Abraxas looked on bored and continued with his breakfast.

"Dear brother," Tom said icily but quietly, "we need to talk."

"Can't," Charles replied as he took a bite off his bread. "Eating," he said with his mouth full and without taking his eyes off the plate.

Some students gasped in sheer horror. Tom's lack of mercy was well known among the students, even when the professors were still ignorant. Tom had done worse for far less offences. Charles felt a cold hand around his neck as he was brusquely yanked out of his chair. Charles stood up and faced Tom.

Since his back was to the students, no one saw Charles's rage-filled face or the smoke lifting from Tom's hand. The students only saw the two boys standing close without speaking a word before Charles stepped away from the table and walked out of the Great Hall. After a moment, Tom followed him.

The second Tom set foot out of the Great Hall a hand took him by the neck and slammed him to the wall. Strong wards covered them almost instantly.

"Tom," Charles warned, his voice calm but his eyes promising a slow death. A blast of pure dark magic slammed into Charles. The impact rattled his teeth, and the momentum sent Charles freewheeling through the air. Still moving Charles attacked Tom. Instinct was all that kept him oriented, his knees bending automatically to take the shock as he landed, leaving a trail of billowing dust as he slid to a stop. Tom's dark curse flew towards him at the same moment. Both curses slammed on an invisible wall that shook the foundations of the room.

"ENOUGH!" Dumbledore's powerful voice commanded, his wand in the air.

Charles landed in a defensive crunch and stayed there. Neither Charles nor Tom attacked again, but they did not leave their defensive post.

"Both of you," Dumbledore barked, "follow me."

Dumbledore turned around without waiting for a response and marched to his office. After a moment, Charles and Tom followed the enraged professor a few steps behind.

Charles glared at Tom and Tom glared back and pushed him hard enough that Charles bounced off the wall. Their silent scuffle continued all the way to Dumbledore's office

Dumbledore held the door open for both of them. The professor didn't fail to notice Charles' split lip or Tom's darkening eye. Dumbledore slammed the door once both boys entered, vowing to never leave them unattended even for the short walk to his office. Without saying a word he moved behind the desk and pointed to the two chairs in front of his desk. Stiffly, both boys sat.

Silence enfolded the room. Dumbledore took the moment to get a handle on his anger and to study both boys. While neither were looking at each other, they had at least stopped attacking. Under his watchful eye, the bruises that marred their skins lightened and disappeared. Taking with them all evidence of the fight. It was scary to think how powerful these two boys were. Sometimes the thought kept him up at night.

"Care to explain?" Dumbledore asked. Tom looked to a fixed point in the corner of the room and Charles to the floor. Neither seemed willing to break the silence.

Trying, and failing, to hide his irritation, Dumbledore held his silence for a few more moments. He was the first to break the silence. Experience has taught him that both boys could hold out their silence for hours.

"Mr Winter?" Dumbledore asked, looking at the boy over his half-moon spectacles. The boy made a huffing noise. To which Tom responded by sending him a sharp glare. The glare was responded with an eyebrow raise to which Tom responded by turning his head. Their silent conversation would have probably continued had not Dumbledore interrupted.

"Mr Riddle," Dumbledore received a glare for the surname, "explain why you were fighting."

Riddle only shrugged with one shoulder. Dumbledore cancelled his plans of a nice free morning and spent the next half-hour coxing them to talk.

"Do you know how it's like to live with someone who has absolutely no concept of personal boundaries?" Charles suddenly asked with clear irritation. His eyes still on Tom's.

"There's no need for boundaries because there's no need for you to keep secrets from me," Tom snapped, glaring at the boy.

"Do you even hear yourself?" Charles asked in disbelief. He looked at Dumbledore and his eyes clearly conveyed the silent message of: 'Do you see what I have to put up with?'

Tom Riddle moved sharply and for a brief second his face twisted in agony before shutting down. Charles noticed it and his eyes immediately sharpened.

"Is it your left leg?" Charles asked, all traces of previous anger disappearing.

"It's nothing," Riddle responded sharply.

"Let me see," Charles insisted. With that Charles kneeled in front of Tom and carefully pulled his trouser up.

"I've told you not to practice without stretching," the blue-eyed boy chided mildly while his hands searched Tom's leg for sensitivity. The leg automatically flinched when Charles touched a sensitive area. Charles clicked in disapproval before carefully massaging the leg.

"It wasn't –"

"The kick?"

Tom nodded.

"You overextended."

They continued talking in hushed tones. Never needing more than a phrase or a gesture to understand each other. Dumbledore sighed in resignation; his presence had been completely forgotten, as the two boys got lost in their own world.

A minute ago they wanted to kill each other. And now? Now Charles was hovering over the Riddle boy like an overprotective chicken and soothing pains wherever he found them. Dumbledore was not sure what he was missing from the equation that made it impossible for him to understand their interactions. He ended up sending them away without punishment and downing a headache-relieving potion. Punishment meant having to spend more time with them, and truthfully, it was more punishment for him than for them.


'I am Lord Voldemort' Tom wrote on the edge of the page. After countless of different combinations, he reached the perfect one. He felt a sense of satisfaction fill him like no other drug. For months he'd been looking for a name for himself and finally he found it.

"Voldemort," he whispered quietly. It rolled out of his tongue smoothly, like poison. It was perfect.

Charles curiously looked over from his own assignment to see what was absorbing Tom.

"Voldemort?" he repeated loudly and with much less reverence. Tom's left eye twitched in annoyance. The loud question brought Abraxas' attention to the conversation. "What's that?" Charles asked with his nose scrunched up.

Hesitantly, because this was important for him, Tom answered, "An anagram of my name."

For a moment Charles looked confused before his face cleared. "Flight from death?" Charles asked amusement colouring his voice. Immediately, Tom knew it had been a bad idea to share his brilliant creation. Charles and Abraxas shared a look before they exploded laughing. Tom's face coloured and darkened with slow burning rage.

It a high pitch wail, not unlike a woman's, Abraxas exclaimed, "Oh my Lord!" Before snickering.

"Don't mock it! This is a serious matter," Charles said seriously and Tom felt a bit of hope before it was ruthlessly crushed. "The Birds need a Lord as well." Tom had no idea how they jumped to birds, but if he knew anything about 'teasing' it was that it had no base in logic.

Abraxas snorted. "Lord of the Birds."

"Little birdy," Charles cooed before almost falling off his chair laughing. Abraxas gasping and holding his side. Tom's face darkened with rage.

"What Tom?" Abraxas asked, his face red, "Did someone ruffle your feathers?"

"Oh you are witty," Tom said sarcastically, his eyes promising a slow, torturous death. Sadly, neither boy had a self-preserving instinct and kept with the insults, each more ridiculous than the next.


In retrospect, Charles wasn't too surprised when he found himself, bound, gagged, and blindfolded on the deeps of the Black Lake. The ropes that bound him, seven to be precise, were unbreakable and the cave he was in complete darkness with the exception of tiny red numbers that were slowly counting down.

When he dragged himself from the lake, panting, dripping wet and with algae tangled in his hair he decided to stay a few hours outside to cool down because if he entered the castle right now, no one would be able to stop him until he killed his dearest brother. It was only the knowledge that later, much, much later, like years down the road he would regret killing Tom that calmed him. But he still debated with himself that a little regret later on was worth years of peace.

Charles entered the common room hours later, dry and with his uniform perfectly in place to find Tom sitting by the fire. Tom calmly looked up from the book he was reading to Charles' murderous glare.

"Oh don't be so dramatic, Charles dearest," Tom's voice was smooth and dark, filled with dark amusement, "it was just a little dip in the lake. Nothing but a friendly prank between brothers."

After two weeks of 'friendly pranks between brothers', things slowed down and on the third week things went back to normal to the eternal relief of their twitchy roommates. Tom never again considered changing his name. And Charles now regularly called him 'Birdie'… On the privacy of their own room or when Charles knew no one would overhear. He wasn't that suicidal.


A/N A small In-between chapter. Not really a chapter, just something short I wrote in between studying when I needed a break. It's nothing too serious and has no plot. A real, more serious chapter follows it. But after my finals in two weeks and then the time it takes me to write it. I just didn't want to make you guys wait so much to hear from me.

- Thank you all for all your reviews from last chapter and hope to hear your thoughts on this short "chapter". Did you like it? I had a lot of fun writing it.

- Do you prefer short chapter more frequently (as frequently as I can while not flunking med school) or long chapters with slow updates?