"Again," he spoke coldly and emotionlessly unsatisfied with the lack of results. Sweat trailed down your forehead as you frowned in concentration. You didn't want to do this, you didn't want to hurt anybody.

"Avada Kedavra!" you tried again feeling your wand shake, but nothing happened. You were at it for hours, exhausted and drained, with no signs of improvement. Tom pinched the bridge of his nose, no doubt disappointed with your constant failure. He waved his wand and put the deer to rest, ending its short and miserable life. He slowly turned to face you, squinting his eyes in thought as he eyed you over. You didn't like that expression, it seemed like the Heir of Slytherin was up to no good.

It's been a few days since they left Hogwarts, since Tom brought the girl here. Days and still no signs of improvement with the Killing Curse. Punishment didn't seem to work, although it did motivate her quite a bit. He was pleased to see her frightened expression when she didn't do as was asked; the sight of her trembling figure gave him a sense of empowerment. However, he did need to change his tactics if he wanted her to succeed.

"That's enough for today," you heard him say, visibly relaxing at his words. Tom had you "practice" the Killing Curse on animals for three days now, constantly pushing your boundaries. At first he threatened you with the Cruciatus Curse, thinking that you were simply disobeying him. But as the time passed, you both realized that you simply...couldn't do it. Whenever you looked into the eyes of those unfortunate innocent animals, you saw nothing but fear, weakness, and despair-you saw yourself..

You had no idea why Tom was training you to become a killer. He was more than capable himself, so why would he need you? Was it part of his Dark Arts training? Ever since you came to this giant mansion, you've spent your time reading the ancient tombs, filled with knowledge missing even in the Restricted Section of Hogwarts library.

The information was fascinating, filled with forbidden curses and spells you couldn't wait to try. You constantly practiced in Tom's controlling presence for safety precaution. His dark overwhelming magic made you feel nauseous yet safe. Many of those curses required a practice dummy, a dueling partner which Tom more than happily provided. Of course, some of them were extremely dangerous, which would explain the necessity for live subjects-the animals.

You felt horrible for inflicting pain upon every single one of them, for having to watch the effects right before your eyes...for feeling childlike curiosity and impatience before trying out each spell. It was a conflicting vicious cycle that made you question your humanity, or what was left of it. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to finish what you've started, relying on Tom to bring peace to those helpless tortured creatures.

You closed your eyes hoping to get some rest, but those images kept coming back. The screeching, the whirling bodies, the blood… It was all too much to handle, it was all too soon. All you've ever wanted was to learn the ways of the ancient magic, not to use it against people. You mind kept telling you that it was a necessity, that great knowledge required sacrifices, but your heart disagreed. Your internal conflict was causing your lack of sleep, restlessly tossing and turning until you passed from exhaustion.

Eventually she managed to settle down, curling her body into a small ball on top of the couch. Tom's eyes travelled towards her body, eyeing over her deep breathes. The blue flames were slowly dying in the fireplace, coating the room in creeping cold. He sighed as he put the book down, conjuring a warm blanket and putting it over the girl's form. His eyes lingered on her face, taking in the details of her beauty. She was pushing herself, trying to master as many dark curses as she could in their limited amount of time. He was impressed with her enthusiasm to learn, but displeased with her hesitation to kill. If she didn't master the curse in time, all of his plans would be ruined. Tom gently rubbed her cheek seeing the girl frown in her sleep.

You were in the Chamber of Secrets again, running among the endless labyrinth, trying your best to escape the dark shadow chasing you. Your heart was pounding, your wand was missing, your clothes torn and dirty, your body tired. It seemed that no matter how fast you ran the dark figure would always be a step away, its creepy laughter filling you with despair. You turned the corner coming face to face with a dead end, having no place to hide. You hastily turned around, watching the figure stop, stepping into the light inch by inch, its wand pointing at you. Your eyes widened when you recognized that face, twisted into an evil sadistic scowl. It was you.

"Avada Kedavra!"

You jolted off your seat, sweat covering your forehead, breathing hard as you frantically looked around. You sighed in relief realizing where you were, realizing it was nothing but a nightmare. You looked over at Tom sitting across from you, completely calm and collected as his eyes danced across a tomb in his hands. It was in the middle of the night and the only source of light was a gentle magical flame hovering above Tom's figure.

"If you're asking for comfort…"

"I'm not!" You interrupted him quickly, turning your body away and facing the corner of the sofa. Your fingers curled around the blanket you didn't remember falling asleep with, frowning in confusion. Did Tom do this? He had a weird way of showing "affection." First he Crucios you, then he tucks you in? You couldn't be more bewildered. Tom sighed after a short pause.

"What do you want me to say? That it gets better?" you blinked, looking back as his eyes connected with yours. Was he talking about your nightmare? Was he probing your mind again? "It doesn't," he continued shortly after. "It gets easier to kill, easier to justify your own actions, but it never gets better… not until you abandon your humanity."

His face was emotionless and unreadable, his eyes cold and serious, yet somewhat melancholy. Why was Tom telling you this? Was he showing some sort of remorse for his actions? You were speechless as you continued to openly stare at him, trying to read his emotions behind the stone cold mask. It was clear that Tom was talking about the Killing Curse, but you never expected him to be so open about it. You always thought that Voldemort was heartless, ruthless, with no sense of pity or remorse for anyone, but Tom… Tom was different. Tom hasn't yet become the monster the magical world knew him to be, he hasn't committed all of those heinous crimes, he hasn't yet brought all that sorrow to the world. Regardless, he was still a murderer, and you must never forget that.

The next morning Tom was more distant than ever, his usually focused eyes staring into space, his restless fingers twirling his wand, contemplating something. It was unnerving to see him so hesitant, to see him unsure of himself. Whatever he was planning was giving you chills.

You were reading yet another book written in ancient Latin, too focused to notice Tom leaving the place. It wasn't long until you realized your solitude, attempting to leave your prison right away, only to be thrown back by a powerful magical force, your body harshly colliding with a wall. Of course he wouldn't leave you "unprotected," he must have thought through everything days ahead. You rubbed the hurt spot grumpily, deciding to go back to your book. Sure you could try messing with security enhancements, but you were unsure if you were skilled enough to actually break them. If anything this would result in punishment when Tom gets back. You frowned at your own stupidity, hoping "The Dark Lord" wouldn't notice your feeble attempts of escape. Who were you kidding? Of course he would. That goddamn genius.

It was midday and Tom still hasn't come back, filling you with worry and concern. Where was he? What was he up to? Was he alright? You scoffed at your own thoughts realizing how childish they were. There was absolutely no need to worry over Tom's well-being since he was more than capable of taking care of himself. Still, if anything happened to him you would be home-stranded for a long time until you either got out yourself or somebody found you.

You heard the door open, jolting right up to see Tom calmly walk in and drag something behind him, throwing it on the floor like a sack of potatoes. To your horror it was an old man covered in dirt, filth, and bodily excrements.

"Say hello to Oliver, your new assignment," Tom spoke lightheartedly with a sadistic smirk plastered all over his face. He lifted the silencing curse off the muggle who instantly began to plead for his life, having witnessed enough magic to realize he was in the clutches of more than abnormal people.

Tom's expression didn't change when the man clung to his feet, begging for his miserable life to be spared. Little did the muggle know, Tom wasn't going to be the one to fire the Killing Curse. Not this time.

"You may practice as many times as you wish. I will heal the damages," a look of disbelief and terror crossed the old man's face, his eyes moist and bloodshot staring at you. He now saw you as the source of all evil in this world and his inevitable death.

"Please, no. No, I can't," you shook your head stepping back, your eyes darting between the homeless man and the displeased Dark Lord. A look of hope crossed the muggle's face when he saw your hesitation and mercy, but it soon faded when the old man was hit with a powerful hex.

"Hope is a dangerous thing, darling. You shouldn't feed this man delusions," his sadistic eyes danced towards you, seemingly satisfied with your reactions as he continued to torture the poor muggle.

"Stop!" you spoke taking out your wand and pointing it at the wizard. Tom licked his lips when he saw angry but determined sparks in your eyes.

"If you want to torture this man so much, all you have to do is ask," he responded with a small smile seeing your dumbfounded and aggravated expression. That is not at all what you wanted. As if reading your thoughts Tom continued. "How is this any different from before?"

"You know how," you spoke back, feeling your hand shake in mid-air as you continued to point it at the Slytherin. Indeed he did.

"Doesn't knowledge require sacrifices?" the tone of Tom's voice was spiteful as he subjugated the muggle under more torture, his eyes never leaving yours for a second as he continued to use your own words against you. "Aren't you at all curious?" You felt bile rise up in your throat as the man whirled on the floor in pain, seething through his teeth. You noticed that Tom was using the same dark spells you have learned for the past few days, demonstrating their effects on human body. You couldn't be more disgusted and transfixed at the same time.

You wanted to stop him, to hex him into oblivion for subjugating a human being to such suffering, but you knew Tom could easily overpower you, punishing you with a round of Cruciatus for your "misbehavior." Your fear for your own safety was holding you back, which only made you feel more disgusted, only this time at yourself.

"I will not stop until you end this," Tom's serious eyes landed on yours, lingering there for the longest time. "Do you really want to see him suffer?" You stood motionless, unable to breath or even speak, terrified with sudden realization. Tom was going to torture this man until you showed him mercy...by killing him. Tears stained your eyes as you finally understood the motive behind his actions. Tom Riddle was willing to do anything to succeed, to help you master the Killing Curse, to make you into a monster like him. Why? Why was he so fixated on destroying whatever was left of your soul?

You covered your mouth and looked away when Tom sliced the man's abdomen, pulling out his intestines with wandless magic, twisting them in the air with his eyes fixated solely on you. Terrifying screams engulfed your surroundings, causing you to look back...straight into the eyes of the tortured victim who was pleading for release. His horrified face showed nothing but despair upon discovering his exposed jejunum, coated with blood and other bodily fluids. The more Tom pulled, the louder and more desperate the muggle's screams became.

"Please!" came a raspy voice his head tilting towards you, cheeks stained with blood and tears. "Make it stop!" Your wand hand was shaking. "Just do it!" You felt nauseous covering your mouth not to vomit. "Kill me!"

You couldn't stand to watch this anymore. Gripping your wand painfully tight, you stood up and pointed at the helpless muggles, your jaw hardening in decisiveness and pity. It was unfair to end his life this way, to kidnap him and use him in these sadistic Dark Arts practices. This man deserved so much more than pain and suffering. Tom has driven him to the point of near insanity. Nobody begged for their death unless they saw no other way… and there truly was no other way, not this time.

"Avada Kedavra!" your own voice was foreign to you. You watched as a green stream of light left the tip of your wand, hitting the homeless man straight in the heart, ending his movements, ending his suffering. You collapsed onto the floor, staring at your shaky hands, tears staining your eyes, sobs threatening to come out of your tightened throat. Your eyes darted towards the perpetrator, feeling nothing but disgust and hatred. Little did you know, those feelings weren't directly only at him but yourself as well.

"I knew you could do it," Tom spoke with a hint of pride in his voice, a small familiar smirk on his face. He conjured the body away, cleaning up whatever mess left behind. Your eyes followed his movements, your body shaking from rage as your curled yourself into a ball. He noticed your state and lowered himself to your level, quietly staring into your hate-filled eyes.

"Why?" you asked through your teeth, your voice cracking as more tears coated your cheeks.

"You know why," he replied calmly, his face serious, the mischievous twinkle you liked so much gone from his eyes. You clenched your fists, unable to hold back your uncontrollable sobs, burying your face in your arms so he wouldn't see you cry.

Tom watched her shake, feeling emotions he knew he shouldn't, knowing they would make him weak. The muggle's life meant nothing to him, so why did he feel so...empty? The results more than justified his techniques, he knew that. His aim was nothing but his pupil's progression in the Dark Arts. Lord Voldemort would call this lesson a success, but Tom Riddle could feel nothing but a setback.

He felt a painful aching in his chest the more he looked at her, the more he invaded her mind, the more he realized how she felt. He closed his eyes and brought her shaking body against his, wrapping his arms and magic around like a protective cocoon. She fought back, hitting his chest and shoulders repeatedly until she grew tired and gave into his forceful embrace, sobbing against his robes, having nobody else to comfort her but the the very person who caused her pain.