Chapter 24: Doll and Puppet

The eyes of others our prisons; their thoughts our cages - Virginia Woolf

It took hours till the door of the salon opened once more. Joelle looked up from the cold floor; she kept sitting in the exact same position throughout the night, only sparingly asleep here and then. Tom did not check again, or maybe he did, but Joelle did not notice. A few seconds were needed for Joelle to realize that it was not Tom who walked into the drawing room. It was somebody else.

"Hello Joelle," said the young man with black curly hair. "He wasn't lying. You haven't changed at all. You don't recognize me, do you?"

Joelle shook her head, taking a close look, then frowned. "Lestrange?"

"Ah. Here we go," Lestrange chortled and held out his hand to her. Joelle did not take it.

"Come on, I won't bite," he said, then simply grabbed her arm to pull her up. Joelle glanced at him for a little longer; Lestrange's tinge of clumsiness was somewhat gone. Her eyes wandered over to the door again, a tall blond man walked inside. This one Joelle recognized on an instant. "Avery..."

"Joelle." Said Avery firmly. His jawline has grown to be as prominent as his high cheekbones and he still had those cold blue eyes from back then.

"He told you two to take care of me," Joelle said knowingly. Lestrange nodded.

"Where is he?" Joelle asked. Avery and Lestrange glanced at each other, then back at her.

"Not important, doll." said Avery. His thin mouth pursed a little while Joelle glared.

"I might be the doll, but you are his puppet," she said darkly and with such a tone of finality that it resulted in an intense moment of eye contact with Avery, who pulled out his wand.

"Avery..." Whispered Lestrange on who Avery's eyes fell, silencing him before he looked back at Joelle.

"Careful," Avery muttered. "He gave us the permission to discipline you in case it's necessary."

Joelle chuckled, turning her face away as she stared out of the window. The sun was shining, snow glistening in the light. "To discipline me?" She asked rhetorically. "I see."

It appeared that the mere command of Tom was all it needed for these boys to act without questioning. Joelle could faintly notice the outlines of Avery and Lestrange that were reflected in the window; she saw how they gestured a little and had a nonverbal conversation, possibly about how to approach her next after the first approach failed.

Lestrange cleared his throat. "Look, breakfast is ready, you can-"

"I don't want to eat." Said Joelle simply. Avery nodded, obviously not planning on changing her mind. "As you wish," and off he walked, staring at Lestrange, clearly symbolizing him to move along. Lestrange looked at Joelle, towards the door, and eventually followed the blond male.

Joelle exhaled deeply, watching how the clouds blocked the sun from further lighting up the room. She sat down on the couch, glanced at the empty glass of wine on the table, then over to the shattered one that was still on the floor in pieces of burgundy liquid. She rested back, closed her eyes, and finally fell asleep.

Warmth and the sound of crackling fire was what caused Joelle to blink her eyes open again hours later. The orange light from the fireplace should have dyed the whole drawing room in a nice atmosphere, but the fake coziness only made her more nervous. Her gaze swept over to Tom, who sat on an armchair with a book that she did not bother to read the title of.

"Do you pay them at least? Your servants?" Joelle then asked. Tom glanced over to her, then to his book again. He closed it after another minute of silence, resting on his elbow as he watched her, as if she had not said a word, as if she was not actually there.

"I do," he then said. Joelle raised an eyebrow, but Tom went on. "Not with money. Something far more worth than that."

"Oh," said Joelle in fake awe. "How very noble of you."

Tom kept staring at her, then merely had a sip of tea upon which Joelle subconsciously shifted in her seat; fearing he would throw the cup. Tom's lower eyelids contorted, signs of passive amusement. He put the cup back onto the table; every movement of him seemed so elegant and controlled. Joelle was once more reminded of how much Tom has grown up. Whereas the younger version of him would've responded with a spiteful comeback, this Tom Riddle was far above discussions and pointless arguments.

"Where were you today?" Joelle then asked. Tom glanced at her, not feeling obliged to answer. Joelle very well understood why. He made her taste her own medicine - or did she ever tell him where she had gone those years ago?

"Marvolo..." Joelle tried again. "This is pointless..." She ran a hand through her hair. "I think we need to talk."

"Hn," Tom chuckled. "She wants to talk," he said amused, then turned his face towards her. "Go ahead."

Joelle stared, but did not know where to start. The lump in her throat made it impossible to find out.

"And that's why we don't talk," said Tom. "There is nothing left to say."

"I have so many questions..." said Joelle. She leaned closer to him. "Look at me, Marvolo, please..." She pleaded. Tom looked to her, calm and awaiting for more to react on.

"Why have you brought me here?" She asked. Tom smirked, shaking his head.

"How selfish of you to ask that question first," he said.

"I deserve to get an answer!" Joelle hissed.

"Not more than I did," said Tom firmly, his gaze fixed on her, and Joelle knew that he was and will continue to be too unforgiving to ever respond to any of her questions. Again, nothing was said. Until Tom made a plate of food appear.

"You will eat this," he said. It carried so much more depth than what he had once said when Joelle and he were on the train on their way to Hogwarts back then. Tom had told Joelle that she surely would not want to make him force her to eat. Now, Tom did not even need to say that he would force her, it was all hidden in the simple line of "you will". Joelle sighed, taking the plate, knowing she did not want to push Tom too much. She looked at the food.

"Waffles..." She said in surprise. "You're sharing these?" She asked with the tiniest of smiles, unable to hold back the memory. Waffles were Tom's favorite. She looked up to Tom, who hid his face behind the book again; and she did not dare to comment on the small grin she noticed on the corner of his lips.

"It's pumpkin cream soup," Joelle then said. "My favorite dish," she added at Tom's perplex face.

"Such a boring dish?" He asked before continuing to read again.

Joelle smiled. "Boring on the outside. The spices are what make a simple pumpkin cream soup taste different. I have never tried the same in two separate houses. Ellie's soup was very good, I can't make it, though," Joelle kept silent for a few seconds. "I never asked which spices she used..." She said softly, then shook her head at a thought. Why was she talking to Tom about pumpkin cream soups after so many years of not talking to him at all?

"You have grown so much," Joelle suddenly said. Tom glanced at her when she whispered "you have changed so much..."

"One of us had to change," said Tom simply, turning over the page. "And I'm glad it wasn't you."

"How do you want to know?" Joelle scowled. "We haven't talked much since you've kidnapped me. Maybe I have changed, too."

"Kidnapped you..." Tom chortled, then glanced to her with his hypnotizing eyes.

"I have changed..." Joelle whispered, maybe more to herself. Tom closed the book now, putting it down onto the table. He stared at her, watching her every move.

"You can't keep me here forever..." She whispered again. Tom smiled his cold smile, as if he knew something that Joelle did not know, and merely wanted to wait until she found out herself.

"It's late my dear. Come on," he said, getting up. Joelle hesitated at first, but followed nonetheless. At least in her sleep she could be free. It was the first time that Joelle was able to take a glimpse at some of the remaining parts of the manor; a beautiful place. They walked upstairs. Tom opened the door to a bedroom. It looked cozy and warm, but Joelle could not feel colder.

"A bathroom is connected to it as well," said Tom. Joelle nodded, her eyes were glued to the nightgown he had put on the bed. She walked in and did not turn around to Tom when he said "good night."

It was a lie Joelle had told herself. She was not free in her sleep. Tom visited her that night, even though not physically: Nightmares haunted her. When she screeched up loudly, awake from the dream, her last thought was spent on a simple realization. Tom had her. And he had her completely.

When Joelle opened her eyes again, she smelled the nice scent of food next to her on the nightstand. She sat up and stared at the sandwich, but didn't touch it. She wasn't hungry, and Tom wasn't here to make her eat it. She crawled out of the bed, was about to walk into the bathroom, but stopped when her eyes wandered out of the window once more. The dancing snowflakes gave her some rest at mind yesterday, today she knew they only danced so much. She remained standing there for a while, not even noticing the presence in the room until a hand rested on her shoulder. Joelle spun around, looking into the eyes of yet another unknown man.

"Who are you?" She asked and stepped back. The man smiled. Like Lestrange, he had black hair, but his wasn't curly. Black hair. Dark eyes. Was it...

"Black? Is it you?" Joelle asked. Black nodded faintly, then glanced over to Joelle's plate.

"You didn't eat," he commented.

"He's gone again, isn't he?" Joelle asked. Black nodded after a moment of silence. "That's right. I'll take care of you today," he said.

"Just you?" Joelle asked suspiciously. Black smiled. "For now it's just me, yes. Avery will come here in a bit."

Joelle grumbled upon the mentioning of Avery's name, causing Black to grin more. "Not too fond of him, are you?"

"He's very rude," said Joelle. She sighed gently, looking at the young man in front of him. "You're not evil. I know you're not," she said, but Black raised his hand in a manner to silence her. "Don't, Joelle. I have no choice," he said. "Let's not spend our time believing we do. Come." And with that, he walked off with her and downstairs.

"What are we doing?" Joelle asked when Black pulled her into a large library.

"Freshen up your theory on magic," he said. Joelle frowned. "He wants you to teach me?"

"The theoretical part for today, yes. He plans on teaching you magic in general," said Black. Joelle did not understand.

"Isn't that strange for him to want that? He gives me the opportunity to fight back," she said. Black merely paid her a pitiful smile.

"I think he will know what you plan before you know it yourself, Joelle. There are things you don't know-"

"Clearly don't know," said a voice from behind. Joelle spun around, looking into the cold eyes of Avery, who walked into the library. "There is no possible way you could win a duel against him if it came down to it, not in a million years of studying magic."

"Then why bother teaching me?" Joelle asked, crossing her arms, looking to the two young men. "What is it you know? Tell me!"

But of course, none of them said a word. Instead, Joelle was introduced to a variety of theoretical input - all of which was incredibly boring to her.

"Aconite's toxic was used whilst applying it to arrows or other sharp objects which were used to hunt wild animals such as wolves; that's why Aconite is known as wolfsbane," said Joelle. "I paid attention during the classes M-Tom took me to. Slughorn mentioned it during potions," she added when Avery and Black looked at her in confusion.

"Good," said Black, closing the book with a shrug. "You know most of the first year syllabus."

"The first, yes. But not the second. We will simply start with the second year the next time," said Avery, sipping on a cup of tea. Joelle ran a hand through her hair in desperation, she could not stand the fact that no answers were given to her, that state of emptiness that left her floating in the air of uncertainty.

A week passed, a week in which Tom has not appeared for even a minute. Joelle was not sure how to feel about it, was not sure how to feel about anything. Sure, she was slightly happy that he wasn't here, that she wasn't exposed to his coldness that smacked her across the face each time he looked at her. But it also left her with unanswered questions. Quite in fact it became so unbearable for Joelle to not know what was going on that she refused to eat the past two days' meals; a circumstance that made Lestrange incredibly nervous; he kept on muttering to himself about what Tom would do if only he came to know that Joelle was losing too much weight.

Driven, however, by curiosity as to find out more about this place, Joelle wandered around the manor at night. Avery and Lestrange were upstairs and asleep, leaving Joelle some room. She could not escape (and how often she tried she did not even count), but an urge to move along was still there, not yet died out.

She opened a door, looking into the what looked like a kitchen. It was roomy and beautiful, but definitely used to work in. Joelle glanced to the left and right, then suddenly gasped when she turned around.

"Oh my god!" Joelle yelped loudly as in front of her stood a tiny creature with bat-like ears, big brown eyes and a long nose. But as soon as she laid eyes on it, it was already gone, hidden under a table. Joelle's mouth was still gapped open, but she tilted her head to the side, looking to the thing she just saw.

"Hey you...Come here, I won't hurt you," she smiled. The creature looked at her, to the left and right, its big brown eyes insecure, but it eventually walked out of his hiding spot. Joelle couldn't believe her eyes.

"Oh my...what...who are you?" She asked, though more to herself. Her eyes widened when the creature spoke back.

"Patch. My name is Patch. He was told not to show himself to Miss Joelle, but he is very happy to meet her at last." The creature bowed. Joelle merely looked at it with big round eyes.

"Y-you can s-peak?!" She squeaked. Patch smiled widely.

"Patch is a house elf, Miss. He can speak when he is allowed to speak."

Joelle just shook her head in disbelief. She visited the lessons of magical history with Tom and faintly remembers something about elves, but hadn't imagined them to look anything like what was standing before her.

"But, but Patch, are you something like...a pet?" Joelle asked. Patch smiled brightly again.

"A house elf, Miss," he said, then lowered his head. "Master Riddle brought Patch here to serve him."

"S-serve?! You are his slave?!" Joelle yelled, causing Patch to duck and hold his arms above his head; a motion of which Joelle intuitively knew the elf wasn't a novice in. Tom must've scared and hurt Patch a dozen of times.

"That's what house elves do, Miss Joelle. It's our nature to serve," Patch said carefully, smiling again. Joelle ran a hand through her hair to cope with the information, then frowned upon a second glimpse. Patch was covered in bruises.

"Oh you poor little thing. Come here," she smiled, pulling the elf closer. Patch shuddered a little, his eyes kept squinting shut when Joelle carefully applied some water on his skin.

"Did he do this to you?" Joelle asked. Patch did not answer, he looked to the side, eyes moving up to her in insecurity.

"I promise I won't hurt you," Joelle smiled. "You must be freezing, too. It's winter and you're only wearing that rag."

"Which he will continue to wear as long as he serves me." Said another voice suddenly. Joelle looked up. Tom stood in the doorframe, good looking as always. She was not sure for how long he has been standing there; she did not even hear him coming.

"Haven't I forbidden you to speak to her?" He walked over to Patch with firm steps; the elf instantly hid behind Joelle. Joelle pushed out her chest, standing in front of Tom, glaring.

"Don't you dare hurt him!" She hissed. Tom looked into her eyes, down to the elf that peeked around Joelle's leg, and gave it a cold but all knowing nod before he looked up to Joelle, smiling calculatedly.

"Come," said Tom. He turned around, not even glancing behind to see if she was following, he simply assumed that she did. And she did, furiously so. As Tom walked ahead of her and Joelle stared at the back of his head, she felt an electrifying urge she could not resist. She stormed ahead, reached out her hand but just before it could collide with Tom's head he spun around and grabbed her wrist firmly, glaring.

"Don't make yourself unhappy..." Tom said in a way only he could make it sound like a threat. Joelle seethed with anger, Tom watched her chest heaving up and down in attempts to control herself; she was shaking, as was her voice.

"Two prisoners now, hm? How low can you sink!" She growled.

"You'll stay long enough to find out how low I can sink," said Tom cooly, letting go of her. Joelle panted, her breathing was so unsteady that Tom kept staring at her for another minute just to make sure she wasn't going to try anything again. He turned around when he was sure she wouldn't do anything for now, but he had not foreseen her next words.

"I don't think so, Tom," Joelle said in a dark tone. Tom stopped abruptly, he stared ahead, it took at least a few seconds for him to return, but when he did, his eyes were not narrowed but widened with shaking rage, and before Joelle knew it, he had slapped her harshly across the face. The sound echoed in the corridor they stood in, Joelle did not turn her head back to him.

Just by saying the name he loathed so much, Joelle was showing him how much she has truly changed - and how much her view on him did, too.