INTERLUDE V
Winter 1939
Tom had begun to wonder if he would ever be happy.
Ever since that early morning in Hyde Park, Tom had been nothing but excited at the prospect of attending Hogwarts himself one day. Far too many times he had stepped onto Platform Nine and Three Quarters, only to never get on the Hogwarts Express himself. All he had been able to do was wave at the locomotive that continuously took his brother away from him.
On the first of September of his own First Year, Tom had stepped onto that platform feeling as though his heart might burst from joy. No longer would he return to the London Citadel to endure the cold months with the Commander until Matthew returned to breathe life back into their home. No longer would he ask Matthew to take him to Hogsmeade during school holidays so that he could stare at the distant silhouette of Hogwarts from Hogsmeade Station.
No, now he was a Hogwarts student. Everything he had waited three years for, knowledge, friends, it was all about to come to pass.
Except it never did.
It started to go wrong on the Hogwarts Express. Matthew had assured him that First Years sat at the front of the train in order to make friends before their sorting. His brother had come home with stories about how he had made a dozen friends before even setting foot in Hogwarts, but the same couldn't be said of Tom.
When one boy had cracked open the door to his empty compartment, Tom had sat up eagerly, only to be disappointed when a second boy pulled him back. Through the still open door, Tom could hear what the second boy hissed at the first.
"You can't sit with him!" He hissed in what was supposed to be covert whisper. "He's the Muggle Killer!" The second boy, clearly a Muggle-born, looked baffled but he still gave Tom a wary look before following his friend down the train.
Before long, all the First Years knew just which compartment they needed to avoid. Tom wasn't sure why he was so disappointed. He should have expected this from how the Aurors of the London Citadel had treated him. He was more than aware that it was the Commander's word alone that prevented him from facing repercussions.
"They don't understand, son." The Commander had assured him gently during one of his good moments. "They think of Muggles like they are mere pets. As though they are incapable of ever harming a wizard." He gave a disdainful wave with his monogrammed cigar lighter. "Not even my men understand the true danger Muggles pose. I'll tell you this however many times you need to hear it. You meet violence with violence. You did the right thing that night."
They don't understand, Tom reminded himself, repeating it in his mind like a mantra. They don't understand.
Things only got worse when he was sorted. Tom had intended to go into Gryffindor, in order to join his older brother, but the Sorting Hat had other ideas. It had hardly touched his head when it called out, "SLYTHERIN!" for the whole world to hear.
No one at his table looked happy to hear it, but Tom hardly noticed as Matthew led a one-man applause until his Head of House told him off. His good mood didn't last, as later that night and in the months to come, the other Slytherins made it clear that he was not welcome amongst them.
It wouldn't have been all that bad really, as he had dealt with adversity his entire life, but there was one bully that stood out from the rest.
Joshua Briggs.
While the rest of his housemates were content to ignore him, and the rest gave him snide comments here and there, Briggs went out of his way to make Tom's life a living hell. Destroyed property, jinxes in the corridor, stolen homework and defaced library textbooks didn't just make Tom's life inconvenient, but his future as well. His grades were abysmal, and teachers weren't giving him a break about it.
His Head of House, Professor Slughorn, had done nothing for him. He asked for proof, but Briggs was a popular Third Year who had plenty of friends to cover for him, while Tom was a Half-Blood with a dark reputation, and a queue of people willing to tell lies about him.
More than once, him going to teachers for help had somehow led to him being in detention.
Matthew had gotten involved of course, especially as Briggs was in his year and something of a rival of his. Matthew had even gotten his friends involved, starting of weeks of brawls between the Third Year Gryffindor and Slytherin boys until Christmas, where they were threatened with expulsion if they continued.
Matthew's friends were happy to fight Slytherins, but they weren't willing to risk expulsion for Tom, who they didn't even like.
Tom had lied to Matthew and said that the bullying was all over now, because while he didn't doubt his brother's now famous duelling prowess, he didn't want him to get expelled. He was a First Year Cadet and an expulsion could ruin everything for him.
That very same night, Briggs had paid Tom a visit in his bed, waking him up by tracing his wand tip from his chin to his sternum. When he opened his eyes, Tom saw that Briggs was sitting in his bed with the curtains closed, so they could have privacy.
"I had Richards let me in." Briggs explained with a smile. Richards was the de facto leader of the First Year Slytherin boys, and he worshipped the ground that Briggs walked on. Of course, he would let him in. Tom was stupid to think that he would be safe in his own bed. "I want you to enjoy your holiday Riddle, because when the New Year arrives, I'm going to put you back to work."
Tom knew it was stupid, but he had to know. "Work?"
Briggs' smile dropped and brought his hand down, slapping Tom with an open hand for speaking out of turn. "Now that your brother," he stressed the word as though mocking their bond, "and his pathetic friends have been put back into line, it's time you got back to work as my favourite sandbag." He smiled wider than ever at Tom's expression. "Make sure you have a nice holiday, Riddle. I want you nice and rested for the new term."
Briggs left Tom's bed then with one last chuckle. Tom glimpsed the smirking faces of the other First Years boys before he could close the curtain, and he just knew that he would not be able to go back to sleep.
Tom had returned home with an idea in mind, but he made sure to keep it to himself as he knew that Matthew would not approve. When his brother had gone to bed on that first night, Tom knocked on the Commander's door for the first time since moving here four years previously.
"Does he make you feel unsafe?" The Commander asked. They sat in the kitchen in their pyjamas, him sipping hot coca, and his guardian smoking another one of his cigars. Tom had explained the entire situation to him, hoping that he could resolve it, but his first question had caught Tom off guard.
"Err...yes." He said, unsurely. Not of the answer, but of the Commander's reaction to it.
Instead of becoming upset like Tom had expected, the Commander simply leaned forward and said quietly, "That's what he's counting on." He regarded Tom carefully. "I could come up to the school and resolve this issue for you if you wish, but that won't stop the next bully."
"Then what will?" Tom asked desperately.
"The only way to stop being prey is to become the predator."
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Tom had it all planned out perfectly.
He lurked in the alcove that was halfway between the passageway that connected the school's basement and the dungeons. It was a favourite for Slytherins looking for snacks from the kitchens, but it had low foot traffic during this particular hour during this particular day.
The only person who walked down this passageway at this time was Briggs.
Tom had suffered almost six more weeks of relentless attacks against his person while he prepared his counterattack. Learning his target's schedule was the foundation of everything. He was nothing special when it came to spell work, but his Hornbeam wand seemed to sense his new resolve as it stopped hindering his magic and started amplifying it when he cast spells.
Unfortunately, he would not be using his own wand today.
Still, Briggs was almost always surrounded by sycophants and Tom did not even stand a chance in a fair fight against him one on one, so he needed to ambush him when he was alone.
As Briggs entered the passageway, Tom waited until he had passed to step out of the alcove. Briggs turned at the sound and his brow furrowed. "Richards, what are you-?" That was a far as he got before Tom's Nightmare Hex struck him right in the face.
It had taken almost every day of the Christmas Holidays for him to even get a reaction out this spell, but the Commander had assured him that if he practiced continuously then it would come to him eventually, and it had. Even using the wand of someone who hated him, his Nightmare Hex was enough to have Briggs on the floor, crying and screaming.
But that wasn't enough for Tom.
Pulling out the bat he had stolen from one of the Slytherin Beaters, Tom proceeded to take out months of fear and powerlessness out on Briggs' fragile body. He targeted the softest parts of his enemy as the Commander had advised, and he didn't forget the joints either. The kneecaps were the hardest part of the skeleton to heal aside from the skull and spine, and Tom made sure they were unrecognisable by the time he was finished.
After five minutes of swinging, he examined his handiwork. Briggs had long since soiled himself, and he was weakly sobbing through his squashed nose and toothless mouth, but the Nightmare Hex preventing him from losing consciousness. His limbs were clearly broken, and he was covered in his own blood, but it was the look in his one undamaged eye that Tom enjoyed.
The look of undiluted fear.
Feeling more powerful than he could ever remember feeling, Tom put the bat in the bag he had taken and hurried back to the third floor, where he had left the real Richards. With difficulty, Tom picked him up from the floor, put the bag containing the bat over his shoulder and slipped his wand back into his holster. Finally, he cast the Reviving Spell on him, before throwing the Commander's invisibility cloak over himself and making his exit, leaving the confused Richards behind him.
Tom headed to the library where he had made plans to meet with Matthew. He needed an alibi.
0-0-0-0-0-0-0
Later that night, Tom snuck into the Hospital Wing to finish the objective.
Closing the curtains around the bed, Tom sat down on one of Briggs' healing legs which woke him up. His scream would have alerted the matron if Tom hadn't pressed a pillow over his face. After a minute of furious struggling, Tom lifted it allowing Briggs to gasp for breath.
Before he could say a word, Tom pressed the tip of his wand against his throat. "Did you like my present earlier?" Tom asked. Briggs seemed confused, so Tom explained. "I asked Richards to attack you, as a personal favour to me. He's not the only one of your friends who's done something bad to you recently, is he?" Tom slowly nodded at Briggs look of realisation.
"How did-?" he was cut off as Tom delivered an open-handed slap across his face.
"You're going to St Mungo's tomorrow aren't you? So, your father can ensure that you family line doesn't end with you?" Briggs' face reddened and Tom smiled as he remembered how he had screamed when he had been hit in the softest spot of all. "I asked him to do that, because by the time your father excepts the inevitable conclusion that your moronic bloodline ends with you, I'll have completed my takeover of the lower year Slytherins."
It was true. Through the use of the invisibility cloak and copious amounts of Polyjuice Potion that were intended for Auror use only, but the Commander had given to him instead, Tom had learned more secrets in six weeks than he knew what to do with. He had enough blackmail material to last him until he could build something concrete.
Just like the Commander said.
Tom leaned in towards Briggs, and he enjoyed how the older boy tried, and failed, to get away. "You have a nice long break, Briggs. I want my new sandbag nice and rested when it returns."
With one last bounce on Briggs' still broken knee, Tom stood up and walked out of the Hospital Wing feeling like a whole new person.
The only way to stop being prey is to become the predator, the Commander had said.
Tom would live his life by those words.