In Tom's humble opinion, the first Quidditch match of the year could not have gone better.

In all the five years Tom had known Aurora, he had never seen her so happy, and the fact he could take it all away from her at a moment's notice would have made him positively gleeful had he been able to feel as such.

He swore he could almost feel Aurora's elation when Raoul had thrown himself at her, the hot rage she always brought to him turning to just a warmness in his stomach for a brief moment.

As far as Tom was aware, he had Aurora Rosier in his grasp. Whether or not his assumption was correct was yet to be seen.

He knew he had time, it was still far too soon to say she'd come to him willingly, despite her eagerness towards Lestrange. No, Tom would drag this one out, and make it as painful for both parties as possible when decided it was time. It was far too good an opportunity to lose.

In the days following the Quidditch match, Tom had already discovered an oversight on his part when asking Lestrange to shack up with Rosier for the sake of the Knights. Not only did Lestrange hardly ever show up to meals or study sessions, but when he finally did he always had the blonde harpy in tow.

Every meal became a chore, Aurora actively ignoring Tom's existence whilst merrily engaging his other followers, glaring daggers at him any time he dared even breathe too loudly. Tom knew her hostility this time probably stemmed from his attempt to use Legilimency on her the morning of the match, and he hated to admit he probably deserved it.

He knew he had improved since returning to Hogwarts, given that he could slip in Avery's mind with little to no resistance now, and the boy gave no indication he had noticed. He was yet to attempt the same with Malfoy or Lestrange, given that both families were known to be natural Occlumens.

It was a silly thing to think he could slip past Aurora's walls if he hadn't even attempted to do the same to the boys, but he was far more inclined to purposely annoy her than to invade the privacy of those closest to him. The more Tom thought about it, the more her current annoyance towards him was justifiable. It didn't take away from how entertaining it was to watch her sneer at him over a coffee mug in the mornings was, though.

As much as Lestrange's habit to now plow into the dorm way past curfew with his robes half on and a stupid yet very satisfied smirk painting his face was incredibly vexing, Tom had to commend him on his success in ensnaring Aurora. The last meeting the Knights had had in October had Tom rather reluctantly congratulating him on his efforts.

Whilst the extensive lists of contacts that Malfoy, Avery and Nott had delivered to him had been useful, the only witch Tom even cared to put his effort towards capturing remained to be Rosier. She was far too captivating to let go, and Tom knew his draw to be near her was growing stronger by the day. He couldn't explain how, or why, but it was there in a full force far more often than he cared to admit.

Just like on the Quidditch pitch, however, the rage within him seemed to settle when she was near. She was no longer the catalyst for his anger but the suppressant. It was becoming warmer and calmer, clearing his mind instead of constantly feeling like there was fiendfyre eating away at his insides anytime she was with him. It was inexplicable, but the feeling was addictive.

Tom had spent so many years feeling nothing, yet within a matter of weeks, she had ripped through his life, knocking his whole world off-kilter. The only thing Tom could attribute to the sudden change was his knowledge of what he was doing to her. He had read enough about muggle psychology over the summer to know it was possible to condition oneself to feel a certain way in particular situations.

Surely, knowing that he had total control over her happiness was enough for his brain to conjure up all the positive emotions Tom was capable of, hence why he'd been feeling such a way.

He hated to admit there was a method in muggle findings, but it only made sense. It was a simple answer to a relatively simple situation.

Wasn't it?

Lessons for Tom had always been rather easy. He had supposed in First Year that his academic advantage came from the fact he had already had a muggle education before attending Hogwarts, but soon learned that he was, in fact, just magically superior to all of his peers. He was a natural wizard and all the teachers doted on him.

Except for one.

There was no wizard that Tom hated quite as much as he hated Albus Dumbledore. Not even his disdain for Aurora came close. Most saw the man as an idol, an exemplary wizard and genius set to defeat Grindelwald, but all Tom saw was a power hungry fool who hid his ambitions behind twinkling eyes and faux inspirational speeches to his classes.

But Tom was good. He did his part, he sat attentively in class whilst the professor rambled on about the dangers of Transfiguration without the proper care taken when casting, before going on to turn a pocket watch into a whistle. Tom had always found their obvious difference of opinion on what made magic 'dangerous' rather humorous.

It was in a Transfiguration lesson in mid-November, however, when Tom began to suspect his hatred of Dumbledore was shared. He had been sat at his usual desk at the front of the class with Malfoy next to him, when the sudden wash of warmth had come to him. It was nowhere near as intense as he normally felt, but still noticeable against his normal chill, so Tom had turned, and of course been greeted by the sight of Aurora, flanked by Lestrange and Black.

Her eyes looked positively feral, but her stride maintained her regular poise and nonchalance. Lestrange had his arm looped through hers and Black was muttering quietly in her ear as they stopped at the desk behind him, Dorea patting Aurora lightly on the shoulder before turning back to take her seat next to some Ravenclaw student who Tom hadn't bothered to learn the name of.

Aurora had practically slammed her bag down onto the table, and Tom quirked an eyebrow mockingly at Lestrange as if to ask what did you do to piss her off? Lestrange just put his hands up defensively, looking towards his girlfriend cautiously as he leaned forward towards Tom.

"Had to stop her from cursing some Gryffindor girl who called her the-" Lestrange cut himself off before looking back towards Aurora and lowering his voice once again. "The 'Slytherin team's slag.'" Lestrange's face scrunched up at the name as if the idea of having to share her was worse than her being insulted.

Tom just laughed.

"Why did you need to stop her?" he asked curiously, knowing full well she had no moral issue with cursing people herself.

"Suppose I just didn't want to have to deal with cleaning up the remnants of the girl when 'Rora was done with her," Lestrange said almost proudly, fully aware of what she was capable of. It was clear that in the few weeks they had been apart, Aurora hadn't lost her aggressive streak by any stretch of the imagination. Tom was about to formulate a response when Professor Dumbledore swept into the room, the students falling silent.

Lestrange moved back into his seat, and Aurora slumped forward, her chin resting on her hands and she seethed quietly. Tom turned his attention back to the front of the class, where Dumbledore had flicked his wand towards the board, the notes writing themselves on the content of today's lesson. It reminded Tom all too much of the first lesson he had had with Aurora that year, when she had used presumably the same spell to rewrite her essay.

As the lesson began, Tom could feel the warmth within his body slowly begin to intensify, building back up to how he normally felt in Aurora's presence. He quickly averted his gaze from where Dumbledore had been demonstrating how to summon a small flock of canaries, to glance towards Aurora. She was now sat back in her seat watching their professor with an unreadable expression that no longer conveyed whether she was still lamenting not being allowed to curse the girl who had insulted her.

It was in his moment of distraction that Dumbledore had decided to pick on Tom. He hadn't been as discreet as he thought he had. That or his professor was just a meddlesome bore who strongly disliked Tom. Possibly both.

"Mister Riddle, you've always proven to be quite proficient in this class, how about you demonstrate this particular charm for your peers?" the old man asked innocently.

Tom stifled a scoff. Proficient? Only one other student in Hogwarts' history had even beaten his marks in Transfiguration, some Gryffindor called Minerva who had graduated a few years before him. Instead, Tom just nodded in the wizard's direction as he stood, twirling his wand around his fingers before pointing it towards the space above his desk.

"Avis."

Just as Tom had expected, his execution of the charm was perfect. Six identical blue canaries shot out the end of his yew wand, before proceeding to fly in a small circle in front of him. Tom's facial expression remained fixed as he muttered a 'finite' and watched the small bird disappear as quickly as he had conjured them, not wanting to betray his smugness towards thwarting Dumbledore's obvious little plan to try and catch his off guard.

Dumbledore just continued to smile at him, eyes twinkling in a way Tom was certain held some more sinister intentions than just congratulating his student.

"An excellent demonstration of a rather tricky bit of magic, Mister Riddle," he addressed Tom directly before turning slightly to address the rest of the class as a whole. "Of course, the Bird Conjuring Charm is still among the easiest of those used to summon living creatures, but impressive nonetheless."

Tom noticed the slight bite in the end of the Professor's words but continued to look at him as though he hadn't just subtly undermined his abilities. The lesson continued as normal, Dumbledore instructing the rest of the class on the appropriate pronunciation and wand movement needed to perform the spell properly without actually allowing anyone to try. Tom sat quite bored, conjuring and vanishing his small flock of canaries until the Ravenclaw sat next to Dorea Black's hand shot in the air.

"Miss Clearwater?" Dumbledore acknowledged her.

Clearwater! That was her name, Tom thought.

"Yes, sorry sir. I suppose my question is quite unrelated to the lesson but I wanted to ask nonetheless. You see, my brother works at the Ministry and says they're all quite worried about Grindelwald's next moves. I know you're quite involved with the efforts to keep him under control, and I was just wondering if Hogwarts will remain safe should he decide to attack England?"

The entire class seemed to stiffen at the mention of the current Dark Lord's name.

But Tom didn't. Instead, he felt every ounce of warmth within him dissipate, replaced with the searing hot anger so fast he had to grip the sides of his desk to stop his body lashing out as a physical response to the change. He looked up at Dumbledore, as his knuckles began to turn white with the effort he was exhausting to remain still, to see the sparkle die from the man's eye. He released a deep sigh before answering.

"That's quite alright, Miss Clearwater, I assumed some student would ask sooner or later, if anything I was surprised nothing had been said thus far," Dumbledore chuckled slightly at that before his tone turned very serious. "But all I can say at this moment, students, is that Hogwarts is the safest place in Scotland. Whilst here, no harm can befall you, even at the hands of this so-called 'Dark Lord.' Do I make myself quite clear?" The class seemed to murmur in agreement.

Tom was still gripping his desk when he turned again, only to see that Aurora's seating position had changed once again. Instead of lounging back in her seat completely deadpan, she had leaned forward, her hands flat against her desk and her lip curled, jaw tensed and nostrils slightly flared. Lestrange looked alarmed at his girlfriend's sudden change of demeanour, but was slowly rubbing circles into her back.

She looked as angry as Tom had suddenly felt. He wasn't sure if the Professor had noticed the way his student was currently staring daggers at him, but he had swiftly moved the lesson on, his overly happy disposition back in place.

"Well, I suppose I ought to get all of you trying the charm, that is of course what we are here for. We'll go one at a time, as there's far too many of you for all of us to be conjuring a flock of birds at the same time. Alphabetical order. Miss Black, if you will," he finished, smiling at Dorea as she got to her feet.

One by one, each student in the class stood up, all conjuring their own flock to varying degrees of success. Some managed a flock slightly smaller than Tom's, maybe three or four canaries, some took a few attempts to conjure one bird. Where Tom would normally be feeling smug, he was instead continuing to stare at Aurora, his fingers slowly turning numb as his hold on the desk remained strong.

"Miss Rosier, it's your turn now," the professor said jovially, it now being clear he was oblivious to the look Aurora was fixing him with.

"Of course, sir," she smiled tightly as she snatched her wand off the desk and stood up, staring Dumbledore straight in the eye as she whispered the incantation.

The whole class seemed to draw in a sharp breath simultaneously at what shot out the end of her wand. Eight large, black ravens circled the air above Aurora's head as she lowered her wand, the side of her mouth quirking up into a half smile at the obvious shock on her teacher's face. Everyone was silent, watching as Aurora's flock flew in and out of formation, save for one Gryffindor boy who was sat in the back corner of the class, snickering to his friend.

"Always said that one was mental," he laughed, only just loud enough for everyone to hear.

Aurora whipped her head towards him, and Tom felt another jolt of heat rip through him, his grip faltering slightly and he swore he had never felt anything as strongly as he felt the current hatred boiling in his stomach as if letting go of the table would put the lives of those within the three-metre radius of him at risk of falling victim to his emotions. His gaze remained stuck to Aurora, however, who was now smiling sweetly at the Gryffindor in question.

Tom swore he heard her mutter something else, but before he had time to think on it, the ravens had made a V-formation and shot towards the boy one after another. He shouted a very impressive string of profanities before diving under the table to try and hide from the oncoming attack of the birds. It didn't work, of course, and he was left trying to swat away as many of the ravens as he could. Aurora just continued to smile.

The rest of the class had descended into screams at the sudden attack, no one quite sure of what had happened. Lestrange was staring at Aurora with a mixture of fear and adoration, and Black looked utterly fed up as she continued to write her notes, unfazed by the ruckus caused by her friend.

"FINITE." The class fell into silence once again as Dumbledore's voice boomed around them, the birds disappearing and leaving the Gryffindor boy whimpering under his desk as he registered that he was no longer under attack.

Tom watched Aurora turn back to face Dumbledore, her face now decorated with obviously fake surprise instead of a smile.

"I'm so sorry, sir, I believe I lost control of my birds at the sudden distraction and couldn't think fast enough to use the counter charm myself. Would you like me to escort Mister Jenkins to the Hospital Wing so that I might properly apologise for my lapse in concentration?" she asked sweetly, eyes wide with feigned concern.

Dumbledore made no effort to hide his concern as his brows furrowed at the girl in front of him, who had just displayed a level of magic unseen in most advanced wizards even in the Ministry's ranks. Not only that, but her magic had then attacked another student, though she had provided no evidence of actually charming the birds to do as much, covering her tracks in a truly Aurora Rosier fashion.

Tom found that part rather amusing, though he thought he might enjoy the show slightly more did he not currently feel an unfounded need to rip the heads off of all those currently in his presence. His grip on the desk tightened still.

"There will be no need for that, Miss Rosier," Dumbledore began, his eyes seemingly searching Aurora's face for something, though Tom was not sure what. "I'm sure Mister Edwards will be more than happy to take his friend down to Madam Marsite, won't you?"

He nodded towards the Gryffindor who was standing next to a trembling Jenkins, tugging him to his feet and quietly leading from the room. Tom knew that Aurora's offer had been empty, and it was clear Dumbledore knew the same.

At that, Aurora took her seat once again but made no effort to pick up her quill and continue. Instead, she crossed her hands over the chest and rested her head on Lestrange's shoulder. It appeared she felt the lesson for her was over. Tom, in turn, turned back to the front of the class, allowing himself to slowly let go of the table in front of him as he felt the heat within him settle slightly.

He was aware of the faint sting along the surface of his palms and fingers as he finished his notes that day but knew his focus was far from conjuring canaries. What was this girl doing to him? Tom knew he could only blame his feelings on muggle psychology for so long, but this had to be something else.

If Tom was not mistaken, he had felt what Aurora had felt. He wasn't sure how, or why, but there was no mistaking the connection between the way she had been looking at their professor and the way he had suddenly been almost crippled by the hatred to match.

When Dumbledore had told the class the lesson was over, Aurora had swept her belongings into her bag, grabbed Lestrange's hand, and practically frogmarched him out of the classroom. No one dared comment on her swift exit, but Tom didn't fail to notice the glances being thrown across the room. Even Malfoy was looking at Tom hesitantly, as though expecting some kind of direction as to how to proceed.

"Escort Black to Potions, it seems her friend has runoff." Was all he said to the blonde boy next to him.

Malfoy nodded before walking off towards Dorea, offering her his arm with his signature Malfoy smirk.

Tom knew he too ought to make his way to Potions, but was in no fit state at the moment. His heart was racing and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back. Where Aurora leaving would normally throw him back into his cold state, his body still felt as though it were on fire.

He would come up with some excuse when Slughorn asked about his absence eventually. Instead, he slowly repacked his satchel, making sure he was the last student in the room before exiting and making a beeline for the girl's bathroom on the second floor.