Big Thing Here: Please let me introduce you to my little baby Death Eaters. I love them so much, I hope you do, too. (Things are different, I don't wanna give it away. Bottom note should clear some things up.) Also, the wiki didn't say Theo's dad's name was Thoros but that's pretty much accepted in the fandom, so idk if I'm accidentally stealing or what? I'd ask to use the name if I knew who started it.


Chapter Twelve

He'd gotten them all to follow him with little effort. One perfect line, the right circumstances, and they were in his hand. Malleable to suit his needs.

For Orion Black, it was the promise of power. As the heir of the Most Ancient House of Black, and sense of self worth crushed by the weight of future responsibilities and the ire of his current paterfamilias; the boy had issues with inferiority, easily exploited. Black wanted influence over the ones who thought themselves powerful, so that for the first time he could be powerful.

Tom had wanted Black's name, and the authority it carried over magical Britain and beyond.

Abraxas Malfoy, wanted a seat at the table of the most powerful. His father was the head of one of the most impressive, if not the most impressive, wizarding businesses the world had ever seen. The head of House Malfoy had his hands in everything from medical research to tea production, to publishing. He controlled the media, and the government often bowed to his will, or they'd risk losing the economic stability that came with Malfoy's 'partnership.' Abraxas wanted himself at the helm, and he wanted Tom's regime to protect his interests.

Tom had wanted Abraxas' wealth, and his ability to mold public opinion to suit Tom's whims.

The Lestrange siblings, Lytherial and Lysander, wanted autonomy. They were both raised to be the perfect picture of pureblood children. They were both exotically beautiful with exceptional raw magical power and a penchant for the darkness lurking inside them, but their talents were hidden under their society facade. They spoke only when directly addressed. They kept their eyes down. And they were expected to quietly marry their cousins and produce pureblooded Lestrange heirs the moment they left Hogwarts. They were silent. But more than that, they were angry and vengeful. They were vicious and willing to do whatever necessary to keep themselves from a fate they considered worse than death.

Tom had wanted that unbridled hatred, that raw dark energy.

Enoch Avery had wanted notoriety. The Avery's were sacred twenty-eight, but they weren't as notorious as the Black's, the Malfoy's, or even the Lestrange's. He was frustrated at being overlooked, being seen as lesser next to the others. Jealous of the Black's claim of being the Most Ancient, covetous over the eccentric wealth of the Malfoys, suspicious of the Lestranges darker reputation. He was quiet, reserved, and yet he strove to be the best at everything, his school scores rivaled most everyone's but Tom's own.

Tom had wanted Avery's potential.

Zephyrus Mulciber wanted the Wizarding Government to shove off and allow him to practice the old religion in peace, without threat of being hauled away to Azkaban for the privilege. He wanted to express his devotion to Jupiter, even if that meant bleeding a muggle dry on the night of a full moon. He wanted to smear blood onto the soil in his greenhouses as an offering to the gods for a bountiful harvest, without worrying an Auror will slap him with a citation for practicing his religious freedoms.

Tom had wanted what knowledge and secrets of the old Roman Empire the Mulciber family hid away in their library.

Thoros Nott was young, two years behind the rest of them. His father, Cantankerous, emphasized blood purity and was a great, but silent, supporter of Gridelwald's purpose. Thoros was, like they all were, convinced that he was better, he was more, and that muggles had dared to alienate, demonize, and slaughter magicfolk in the strongly believed muggles must be stopped lest they try again. He was passionate about protecting magicfolk from the evils of the non magical world. Thoros Nott wanted to be the Minister for Magic, standing on the bare boned ruins of the non magical world.

Tom had wanted Thoros Nott's ruthlessness.

Yes, they'd all so easily fallen one by one into his inner circle. The few, the chosen, the powerful.

All but one.

Nina Fawley was not his follower. She'd made it abundantly clear from the time he'd approached her.

"You want sheep, and you wish to be their shepherd, Tom. I am no sheep, Odin has no use for sheep. I am a wolf, and we both know what happens when sheep and wolves collide."

He'd never been defied quite like that before.

Fawley was unlike the others. Ruthless like Nott, but tempered by kindness and compassion. She had magical knowledge of the old way, old magic left unremembered, like Mulciber. She wanted more to fade into the background than to be notorious like Avery. She had the same raw, dark energy that the Lestrange siblings had, but more refined in a way that she wasn't controlled by it. Her family was well known, powerful, and connected. Her grandfather was the Minister for Magic when they met.

He'd decided to collect her, and she'd defied him. Denied him. It was unacceptable.

So he tried again.

And again.

Until he'd worn her down and she'd decided… not to join him as a follower, as he preferred, but to befriend him. And he'd been all the better for it, truth be told.


September 1st, 1944.

From the moment he'd woken that morning Tom Riddle had a massive headache.

It began as a dull throb at his temples, and by the time he'd made it through the throngs of students and parents fretting and prattling over each, younger children screeching and older ones yelling out the windows of the train it had warped into a head splitting migraine. He fought to control the seething rage that welled within as he walked the length of the train to find his usual compartment.

He'd sent his Knights away from him when they'd converged on him as loyal dogs returning to their master always did, tails wagging and begging for a treat. They'd scattered with just the clench of his jaw, and he reveled in their jumpy departure as he drew his wand and darkened the windows.

He'd sat, eyes closed in the darkness for a while. The throbbing had just begun to ebb when the compartment door quietly slid open. The sweet and subtle smell, hits of bergamot and vanilla invaded his sanctuary. He languidly opened his eyes and raised a single eyebrow at the intruder, jaw clenched with thinly concealed rankor.

"Sorry to disturb you but we've got Heads duties in ten minutes at the front of the train." The girl spoke softly, so as not to aggravate him further, and smiled at him; completely unafraid.

Nina Fawley, Tom thought as he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back more comfortably in his seat, composed as ever, is the only person I'll let speak so plainly to me.

"Headache?" Nina asked, tossing her long platinum tresses over her shoulder and withdrawing her wand from the inside of her sleeve. "I worked on a charm to clear that up for you, if you like."

As he gave her a curt nod, she took a seat directly in front of him. The tip of her wand lit and her lips moved just slightly, forming the words but not speaking them. Tom had required every one of his minions to master non verbal magic. Some were better at it than others. His headache began to ease and he withheld a sigh of relief.

He'd never been great at healing anything. His proclivities lay in causing harm.

"When did you work on that charm?" He rose, aware that he had duties he'd agreed to. Head Boy would afford him all the luxuries of being the most trusted student in the school, and thus more unlimited access to the restricted section. More unlimited access to the entire school without threat of repercussion, as it were. "I could have used it this morning."

She tossed him an apologetic smile. "I was off to Diagon Alley before you woke. I wanted to check if the quills we prefer were restocked in time."

Tom held his hand out to her. She took it, he yanked her to him. She stumbled, but he didn't let her fall. "Do not leave without telling me again." His face was stern, dark eyes boring directly into her's; so light they reminded him of the Black Lake when it iced over in the winter, his words were irrefutable. A demand. "Now answer the question."

Nina narrowed her eyes and wrenched her hand from his. He thought he heard a muttered 'jerk' under her breath but decided to let it go. "I asked Oma the other day after that migraine you had on Sunday left you unable to eat."

She'd worried, of course she had. She was the only person who'd ever worried about him. Not about whether he was angry, or if he would hurt her, or what he would do to her if… whatever the situation be.

Nina Fawley simply worried if he'd eaten, if he'd been drinking enough water, or if his headache was unbearable and what could she do to help?

He'd lucked into this one. Tom had decided to begin amassing a network, knowing he'd outclassed every person in the school besides Dumbledore by third year, when he'd met Fawley. She'd been in a few of his classes, so upbeat and happy that she'd disgusted him.

It wasn't until a few months later that he'd seen her as anything but another unbelievingly cheerful Hufflepuff.

He watched her walk out of the castle into a blizzard, on a full moon and wearing thick white furs, black runes written all across her face and powerful, vibrating magic surrounding her like a protective shield.

Tom made it a point to learn from his mistakes. A point that was reiterated in the spring of his fifth year, when he'd realized he'd underestimated his little pet Puff. Still today, the memory serves as a warning.

He'd been cultivating her but she often sat with him in the library and talked about her upbringing.

It had only taken him a week to coax the girl into telling him what she was doing out of the castle during a blizzard.

"I worship the old Norse gods, specifically Skaði and Loki, and I practice Seiðr. There are... rituals that I do on certain moon phases and during each season. The Professors don't know, they're not exactly fond of Pagans magic at Hogwarts and I intend to continue, so I'd rather they didn't find out, Riddle."

Tom, who had been bored with what the standard Hogwarts curriculum had to offer, had been intrigued.

Over those first few months, he'd often hovered between dragging her away from the library to crucio her and leave her in a closet, and waiting patiently for her hyperactive energy to finally desist. He'd further decided it was best not to level curses at Fawley when he'd tried, and the curse rebounded immediately.

Her face had flushed with rage, leaning over him where he'd been blasted against a bookcase with bared teeth like a vengeful beast. "Do not ever treat me like one of your sheep, Tom Riddle."

Though she'd refused to join him, she did continue to meet with him, and teach him about her people, the Norsefolk. The more he learned from Fawley about the way her clan practiced magic, the more he coveted her strengths. But she wasn't ambitious like the rest of his followers. Power held no meaning to her, money was less than worthless, notoriety was laughable, and she already had her autonomy through her lifestyle.

He couldn't convince her to join him, no. But he'd managed to collect her all the same.

Tom Riddle rarely regretted anything. He'd poisoned the boy who'd called him a 'bastard son of some far reaching half blood' at eleven years old. The boy nearly died and he'd not cared but for the feeling of excitement he'd received when he'd gone by the hospital wing and heard the boy's mother's sobs.

He'd not felt a thing but utter, resplendent glee when Abraxas had choked on his own tongue while simultaneously tripping down four flights of stairs and breaking seven bones after telling Tom he was nothing but an impoverished cast off of the muggle world. He'd relished the fear from the other boys of his year as one by one they came to realize he was, and would always be, their superior.

When Tom cast the cruciatus on a second year who displeased him, he'd walked away with a small smile to ask Professor Babbling about a particularly challenging equation.

As the air raid sirens wailed overhead and he was forced out of the Orphanage, told to run to the newly erected bomb shelter down the road, he decided he regretted opening the Chamber of Secrets and flooding the entire castle.

The basilisk heeded his call, but after centuries of being locked into a relatively small chamber she'd been anxious to refamiliarize with the rest of the castle. The pipes were smaller than they had been, and she'd ruptured over a dozen while exploring. Headmaster Dippit had sent all students home, no exceptions, a week early for winter break.

He'd argued, hesitant to return to the awful building of his childhood and knowing it was unsafe due to the muggle war, but the Headmaster insisted and Tom had no choice.

Despite having cultivated quite a following at school, in the muggle world he loathed to admit he was merely another orphaned young man. Rage, deep and hot coiled inside as the first of many bombs hit the ground while he ran towards shelter surrounded by filthy muggles.

He had no part in this war, none of his kind did, yet Hogwarts had so easily released every student to return home without a care. As if they didn't know the turmoil of the muggle world, the destruction wrought upon London nightly since the fall of the previous year.

He noted in a detached way that he felt the sting of betrayal when he thought of how his followers were enjoying their additional week off from classes, and he just barely fought the bitter rage that grew deep within his chest.

Tom had barely a heartbeat to recognize the metal bomb dropping close, too close, to where he stood.

He was barely sixteen, Hogwarts refused to teach students apparition until they were seventeen. They restricted wand use out of school to exactly none, the wand in his pocket becoming a mere intricately detailed stick in the face of the law.

All he could do was watch and run as the bomb hit close to him and the shockwave of dust, stone, and grime threw him into the remains of the barber shop that once stood at the end of the street. He felt his body smack against stone and concrete, his head colliding with a sharp edge of jagged brick.

Tom fell to the ground in a heap, his head felt heavy, a hot liquid trailed down his face and he knew it was blood as it slid into his mouth, open only because he'd cried out in agony. He clutched his head and wrenched himself up, leaning against rubble and gathering himself even as his ears rang in a single, distracting tone.

Movement was life. Survival was the only thing on his mind as he hobbled towards the bomb shelter, he made it to the large metal door and banged, the vibrations of his hits reverberated through his fingers and his arms but no answer came.

"Tom!" Someone was shouting his name, he could barely hear it over the ringing.

A body, small and soft, wrapped around him and he nearly killed it on the spot for the transgression. "Portus."

He felt himself being ripped away through a portkey, even disoriented and injured he wouldn't forget this feeling.

He was lowered to what he expected was a bed, the air around him going from stale and polluted to crisp and floral. His body hurt so badly it was difficult to reorient himself.

"Nina.. what have you done?" A voice bellowed from somewhere to his left, his entire body throbbed and ached.

"Get Oma and Opa, I'll explain later!"

"Nina!"

"Now, Lucas!"

He gained enough presence of mind to assess his surroundings. The girl that held his hand tightly, and had rescued him from dying in a bomb raid, was Nina Fawley. The one person he'd been trying for three years to cultivate into his group of Knights. The only one to defy him.

The only one to reach out a hand when he was in desperate need of a rescue.

He supposed, at that point, Fawley must have thought of him as her friend.

She'd been worth the trouble she brought, he thought now, watching her run her wand up and down his body. His hurts began to ease.

"It's going to be alright Tom," she said to him, red faced and tears running down her face. Her body quivering with great, weeping sobs as she squeezed one of his hands in her free one. While the ringing in his ears was just dying down and he was able to hear her as she promised him. "I didn't know about the night raids, or you'd have never been there. You're safe now, and I'll make sure you don't ever have to go back. I swear it."

And he'd balked at the idea that someone actually gave a damn about him.

Nina hadn't lied. She'd made sure he never had to return to the orphanage, successfully convincing her grandparents, the disgraced former Minister for Magic Hector Fawley and his wife Therese Olson, to take him in as their ward.

In doing so he found a close confidante in Nina, and in the last year he'd come to truly accept her as a friend.

His only real friend.

She rolled her eyes at him and poked his temple gently with a forefinger. "Let me know whenever you need me to use it again."

Feeling much better, and a little playful, Tom pushed her away from him with a mock scowl before taking the lead out of the compartment. Head's duties called, and he'd pulled every bit of his influence with Dippit to share these responsibilities with someone he could trust. He wouldn't ruin it by allowing them both to be late on the first day.


The welcoming feast was as dull as ever, Dippit was well spoken but droll and Tom found himself focusing more on the new staff additions.

Irma Pince would have been a welcome change from the elves had she graduated a few years prior. As it stood he now had no need to sneak his way into the restricted section. Though, he thought, casting a glance over towards Nina on the other side of the hall smiling at one of her classmates, Nina might disagree. She'd been working on modifying a charm that permanently duplicates a document into a charm that would do so with an entire work.

(Hogwarts had a chokehold on hundreds of Old Norse documents from several centuries of their culture. Despite centuries of asking, Hogwarts staff and the board of directors had refused to return these works to their ancestral people. When Nina discovered this she'd been outraged, rambling in rapid Norwegian while Mulciber agreed on principle alone.)

The new Mediwitch, however, drew Tom's attention. She was on the opposite side of the staff table, closer to the Puffs, so he couldn't easily tell but it seemed like she was tense, as if the natural human's fight or flight inclination had been activated. Not, he mused, entirely unnatural when being introduced to several hundred people at once.

Mia Garder, she was introduced to the student body, from America, had traveled extensively on the continent. Two years as an emergency ward healer, and looking to further research here at Hogwarts.

She stood and bowed respectively to the students with poise.

Not nervous, then.

So… what had her so clearly frazzled? He filed that away, interest piqued.

"After you've brought the new intake to the common room I'd like us to get together in mine, to catch up on our summers." Tom said, taking a bite of his supper and glancing at his Knights. The Slytherin table was always quieter than the other tables and he was grateful, looking over that the Gryffindors as a few stood to throw rolls at each other, that his house was polite.

A few of his Knights stiffened and Tom's serene, society smile sharpened."Unless anyone objects." No one spoke. "Black? Avery?"

The two, straight backed, glanced at him in tandem.

"Of course not, Tom." Black was the first to respond.

A soft, bored sigh escaped Lytherial Lestrange. He glanced at her, encouraging whatever she wanted to say with a swift nod. She glanced back at Orion Black with a poisonous smile. "I saw Fawley on the train this afternoon looking quite charming in her shining new Head Girl's badge, Black. You must be so proud of your fiance."

Orion forced a polite smile, darting a cautious eye towards Tom before he responded. "Miss Fawley's accomplishments are a testament to her dedication and intellect."

Tom went back to cutting his chicken, an air of deadly calm around him. Whatever issues Orion Black had with his engagement to Nina were his own problem. Orion had expressed that he didn't wish to wed his cousin Walburga, and Tom had convinced Hector Fawley to negotiate Nina's betrothal to the next head of House Black. It wasn't a secret that Orion had feelings for Nina anyhow. So Orion got what he wanted out of the deal, and Tom would get a stronger hold over the House of Black with Nina at the helm.

He'd take whatever opportunity presented itself and move his people as he wished. Whatever side arrangements were their own to work out, so long as they didn't interfere with his plans.

His Knights sat on bated breath and he left them to their anxiety while he chewed his food and swallowed. "I expect you all in one hour."

A few minutes passed where no one said anything before those of his Knights who were Prefects, Abraxas Malfoy and Lytherial Lestrange for seventh year, Orion Black for sixth year, and Thoros Nott for fifth, removed themselves to lead the first years to the common room. The remaining Knights, Enoch Avery and Zephyrus Mulciber sat on either side of him as if they saw themselves as his bodyguards.

As if he needed babysitting. "Leave, be at the Heads dorm when I say."


As he pushed open the door to Nina's room, the soft feminine moans he heard had him turning right back around and walking out, but not before saying; "Our friends will be arriving shortly, Nina."

Rolling his eyes as he familiarized himself with the new dorm, Tom recalled the day he learned Nina was just as interested in cunnilingus as she was fellatio. His face a calm mask to cover his cold fury that he'd yet to enact the revenge he planned as one of his worst memories surged to the front.

Soon, he reminded himself. Soon they'd all be dead for it.

He'd been reading in Fawley's study. His now, he supposed. The former Minister Hector Fawley may have had little power left from his administration, but it wasn't hard for a sacred twenty-eight pureblood to pull some strings and get his granddaughter out of trouble for using underage magic. Even simpler was it for him to officially claim a magical child that resided in a muggle orphanage as a ward. Thankfully Tom had been able to get a message to Abraxas to control the media coverage, otherwise he would have had too much unwanted publicity. His jaw clenched at the thought.

He'd returned to the elder Fawley's cabin the summer between fifth and sixth year. The cabin itself didn't look like much on the outside, magic made plenty of additional space for several families to comfortably live there.

It was the view once you stepped out that could easily derail every thought you'd had about the quaint little home. Nestled into the bottom of a cluster of snow-capped mountains, the deep forestry emptied out into a clear blue lake, Tom had found himself speechless for the first time in his life.

Norway was stunning.

Nina had grinned at him and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the forest to show him a rock formation, a 'natural cluster of large hagstones' that her people gathered around during the solstices, using them to draw on natural energies and celebrate.

As it were, Nina only stayed with her grandparents on the weekends for her grandmother to instruct her on the ways of Seidr. Her parents and brother themselves thought the old magic a flight of fancy, something that held no merit in the face of today's modernized variants of the old ways.

Tom could see how much the elder Fawley matriarch and Nina disagreed with that assessment.

His reading was interrupted when the floo flared to life. Nina fell out, crumbling to a heep on the colorful handmade rug. He was out of his seat, book forgotten as it clattered to the ground, and to her side in an instant. Gently, more gently than he'd done anything in his life, he'd flipped her onto her back and tensed.

Nina's face was badly swollen, bruised and bloody. Her platinum hair was matted and covered in blood, a patch of it by her left temple missing. She had one eye slightly open, the other swollen shut, and trained on him as she grasped at his shirt with fingers sticking out in odd directions.

Someone had tortured her, and he felt the rage he usually kept so controlled begin to unfurl like white flames licking at his insides, igniting a beast that lay dormant waiting for its master's call.

Nina opened her mouth to speak but blood spilled from between her lips and she sputtered, trembling.

It had taken two hours for Therese to fully heal Nina, and then the girl still had trouble through the night as her ribs mended. Tom had felt a strange weight settle in his chest, like something heavy had made him its chair and with each hour Nina didn't wake it added another pound.

Therese had attempted contact with Nina's parents and found the floo into her son's home blocked. Hector was gone to France on business and wouldn't return for days yet. Tom's anger had not ebbed, and there were no answers currently forthcoming that could ease him as the only one with answers was unconscious.

His body was tense, so tense he'd worked himself into a massive headache. Nina Fawley belonged to him, and Tom took very good care of his belongings. He was going to murder whomever had done this, and he was going to find a way to make it agonizingly slow and intimate.

Nina finally woke after twenty-six hours. The weight began to lift as her crystalline eyes opened, only to immediately return when her tears built and fell. The rage came rushing back with brutal force and he stared as she wiped fresh tears from her kept his face serene as he leaned forward, meeting her gaze.

"Tell me who."

She'd worried her bottom lip between her teeth and he waited. Patience was one of his many great qualities. Eventually she spoke.

"Lucas caught me kissing a girl," she said, her voice so very quiet, "a half-blood girl from Beauxbatons whose family was visiting the Ministry. She was very pretty and we got along, I wanted to kiss her so I did. She liked it. He saw and…" she took a shuddering breath as tears welled up again. Tom waited. "Lucas saw and he told Father and when I got home later on he… he hurt me. He hurt me and screamed, and called me a queer and a stain on the House of Fawley and a disgrace."

Her twin brother had betrayed her, her father had nearly killed her.

"And your mother?"

Nina gave a hate filled laugh. "Mum told Father he should be sure not to get any of my blood on her new silk isfahan rug."

"Aren't your gods supposed to watch over you?" He asked, anger leaking into his facade.

Nina shrugged with a watery half smile that looked rather like a grimace. "I cannot command the Gods. They do as they will."

He'd been very very angry for some time now. Lucas Fawley had become a target, and had yet to feel the sting of Tom's ire.

But he'd not escape his fate for much longer.

A disheveled Ravenclaw walked out of Nina's room on shaky legs, she visibly paled when she noticed Tom standing near the bookshelves on the far wall, expressionless.

Nina emerged from the bedroom, swatted the Ravenclaws arse. "Leaving, remember? I know he's pretty but it's best not to stare, lest he dazzle you away from me." Nina said with a teasing wink at him from behind the girl. "Why don't you head by the library? It'll still be open for an hour."

With a bright blush, the girl unfroze and tapped her wand against her robes, righting her clothing before tearing out of the room with her head down.

"She'll be upset with me when she tries to get herself off tonight and realizes she can't." Nina laughed, looping her arm through his.

"How'd you manage that?" Tom asked, ignoring the sound of the dorm portrait slamming shut, leading them both into the common area.

"I'll show you," she said, tapping her ear with a finger and gesturing all around, "another time." In a lower tone he barely heard she said; "I can't get through his extra wards, I tried before Macdougal got here."

The walls had ears. Dumbledore, of course. Nina did well to discern that before they had a meeting with all his Knights.

Unwavering loyalty to him and only him, cautious disregard for authority, a people-pleasing attitude (with a hufflepuffs reputation, which made it so very easy for people to mistakenly trust her), natural intuition, and intelligence with the ability to put it to good use. And she argued with him. Defied him, when she felt it necessary.

She had a brain between her ears and she used it. The relationship they had was one borne of mutual respect, and though the inability to control her had frustrated him, he'd long since come to terms with the fact that if he wanted Nina Fowley in his corner concessions would have to be made.

"Did you see the fully stocked tea cabinet?" She gushed, releasing his arm and practically running past him to throw open one of the cupboards in the kitchenette, revealing everything needed to brew tea along with several variations of it. She looked at him, then back at the tea, then back at him with an exaggerated smile as their portrait opened and his Knights trickled in.

He huffed in faint amusement as she started pulling things out of the cabinet. "Everyone's getting earl grey!" She announced. A couple of groans sounded as Tom stepped away from the kitchenette to take a seat upon the available black leather armchair. With a wave of his wand the fireplace roared to life, dancing with controlled black fire, a substance Therese had taught him to use. Just as dark as fiendfyre but less volatile.

"Oh, and I also got the elves to bring us biscuits!" Nina said, levitating a tray of them over to the group as they situated themselves around Tom in the common room area.

"We just ate, Fawley," came a contemptuous complaint from Abraxas. "Are you trying to fatten us?"

As the tea set flurried about, fixing itself, Nina tossed a vicious smile at the Malfoy heir. "How else will I offer you to the old gods?"

Tom watched with wicked glee under his expressionless mask as Abraxas stiffened. The Malfoy heir had always been uncomfortable with Nina's openly pagan beliefs. Not because he disregarded them, but because he was afraid of them. He often had the same reaction when Mulciber began rambing in Italian.

"Saw the MacDougal girl running off toward the library, everything alright?" Avery asked Nina quietly in the kitchenette as the teaset floated over to the Knights and filled their cups.

Nina placed a hand on Avery's arm with a kind smile. "Yes, everythings great, Enoch, thank you."

Orion Black sat back with a scowl, arms folded as Nina took the empty seat next to him. "What's wrong with you?"

"You smell like pussy, Fawley."

"That's strange," she said with a congenial smile, silently waving her wand to clean her face and mouth, "given you're the only pussy in this room."

Both Zephyrus Mulciber and Lysander Lestrange choked on their tea, the latter's older sister tossing him a faint look of disapproval as she handed him her napkin.

With a snap of powerful, sinister magic, the entire room silenced. It rolled out like an incoming fog and gently receded half a second later back into Tom, nestling back against him like a tight glove.

Tom had effectively sliced through all of Dumbledore's spy warding. Nina knew it, but the others seemed confused as to why their Lord had unfurled his magic out of nowhere. The two shared a look, and Nina stood with her wand out, re-warding their dormitory in a way that suited their needs. He'd add his own later that night, Nina's warding wasn't as impressive as his but it would do for the time being.

"Dumbledore thought he could lace our rooms' warding with his own surveillance wards," Tom said in a bored tone, "quite the pest."

"I could poison him, if it would please you my lord." Lytherial offered, examining her perfectly manicured nails in detached disinterest.

"The idea has merit," Tom agreed, "but not quite yet. He may still be of use. Right now I want to know how your summers went." He glanced at Abraxas.

Abraxas cradled his tea cup in his hands, the picture of aristocratic poise. "The Malfoy holdings are in perfect order, my trips to the continent have established and solidified my place among our business partners."

"And how is your father?" Tom questioned.

"His health is declining rapidly, I'm afraid. The healers expect he won't make it to our graduation." He said it in a forlorn sort of way, but his eyes lit with malicious glee. He'd cursed his father with a particularly foul bit of dark magic that caused a degenerative and incurable disease to flay the man's insides.

Tom, for his part, gave a small pitying smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That's too bad."

"We managed to read through the last quarter of the Lestrange library, we've copied many of the tomes for your perusal, should the mood strike." Lysander Lestrange offered, taking Tom's attention from Abraxas.

The Lestrange's had a large collection of dark arts texts and scrolls in their library. "Do you have those tomes on you now, perchance? I'd love to read through them."

"Of course." Lytherial purred, pulling a shrunken parcel from an inner pocket of her robes and levitating it over to him.

Mulciber straightened and grinned over at Nina. "I managed to find the runes of one of Jupiter's temples. It was radiating old magic, you'd have loved it. I dug my way through some of it and found some relics that I was able to rescue."

Nina brightened considerably and smiled back at Zephyrus; "Oh! Bring them if you have time tomorrow, I'd love to see them."

Recognizing that these two could easily go on for hours if he didn't interrupt, Tom's eyes slid over Nott's smaller frame. The boy, now fifteen, had a slender build and had gained at least 8 centimeters over the summer. He was sitting back, one leg over the other with his cup raised to his lips and a fond smile over his features as he observed the gathered group. Thoros was quite the pleasant young lad.

If you were magicfolk, that was.

"Thoros, how was your summer?"

The boy lowered his tea to his lap with a serene smile. "It was well, thank you my lord. My father introduced me to several of his colleagues and found a tutor, a Durmstrang graduate, that helped me improve my duling skill."

Thoros had worked on his dark arts, then. And had possibly made contact with some of Grindelwald's people.

"If you'd like to continue, I'm sure Orion has some time to tutor you a few times a week if it doesn't affect your OWL studies. The rest of us will be preparing for our NEWTs, and won't have much time I'm afraid."

Thoros gave him a polite smile. "Yes, I would like to continue. Orion and I can worry over the details another time. Don't worry yourself so much about NEWTs, I've no doubt you'll all do quite well."

"Undoubtedly." Tom agreed, the word laced with a threat that had most of them stiffening.

"I spent most of my summer interning under Master Yosef Amun in Egypt. Curse breaking is more intriguing than I'd initially given it credit for. The great pyramids are littered with so much ancient magic it was nearly overwhelming." Said Enoch Avery, holding his tea cup out to be refilled.

So, Tom's hunch about Egypt crawling with Grindelwald supporters was correct. Of course. He'd have to consider postponing his travels to Africa for another few years. He had no desire to align himself with a dark wizard that would lose his fight soon enough. There was too much support rallied against him, he'd been too boisterous and flamboyant.

Just winning the aristocracy with the singular notion of rescinding the Statue of Secrecy wasn't enough to win one the world.

Tom would be more thorough than that, he would be undetectable until it was too late to oppose him.

"Orion? We've yet to hear from you."

"I managed to get Father to part with some of the old dusty Black ancestral magic tomes he'd hidden in his study." He'd broken through the wards and stolen the tomes, rather. "I've been through them, so you're welcome to borrow them when you're ready. I also wiggled free of my engagement to my cousin Walburga only to be caught back into another one with Fawley."

"Oh, we were bringing our engagements into this discussion?" Lytherial asked, arching an eyebrow.

Nina rolled her eyes, at some point in the conversation she'd backed up against the arm of the couch and buried her bare toes under Orion's thigh. In retaliation to Orion's comment, she freed one foot and kicked him until he collided with Zephryus who was sitting on Orion's other side.

She buried her toes under his thigh again as he righted himself, both scowling. "Better me than a third year girl you're related to, Black."

Sensing the conversation derailing, Thoros leaned forward from his seat on the opposite couch from the quarreling fiancées and placed his tea cup on the table between them. "And you, my lord? Did you and Nina get up to anything interesting?"

Tom fingered the Gaunt ring with an absentminded look that would fool anyone that wasn't in that room. "Nina and I were quite busy this summer."

Before he could get started, a house elf cracked directly into their common room. Tom looked at it with barely concealed contempt at the interruption.

"Whimsy is sorry for intruding. Whimsy was asked to get a Slytherin prefect, a first year be needing escorting back to the common room from the hospital wing."

"Of course, I'll be there momentarily." Tom said, and the elf cracked away.

"Allow me, my lord."

Tom waved Abraxas off and stood. "We should be preparing to end the night, in any case. I'll retrieve the first year and send him to bed."

Fifteen minutes later, Healer Mia Gardner brushed past him through her office door, and Tom thought her a fool for turning her back on him. Not a second later, her body turned so she could see him out of the corner of her eye, and she didn't allow him to get behind her again.

Not so foolish after all, then.


Original AN: Being in Hermione's mindset so long made it difficult to get into Tom's… Anyways; Nina is so much cooler than Bellatrix as a right hand. With Tom and Nina, think of a more sinister Harry/Hermione pseudo-sibling relationship. Nina and Lucas Fawley are what I'm calling "Butterfly Effect OC's" ; they're a direct result of Hermione making waves she didn't even know she'd made. I really wanted to make a Hufflepuff-go-bad because I've never seen one before. (Woo, subplots! Also, Puff/Snake friendships are my favorite headcanon.)

So Tom made a real friend/sister-like relationship. More about that friendship will be revealed over time. This chapter basically begins to show everyone a little of what has changed and starts setting up the Knights of Walpurgis. Orion wasn't a DE, canonically, but I wanted him for my plot so I made him one..

05/7/22: A note to those who read this before I yanked it down. The biggest issue with readers before was how much they all absolutely detested Nina. I've toned her down now, and I've changed a little about what had happened between Nina and Tom because some of those readers had a point, and much as I hate to admit it. I want to explain myself a bit, though. Nina is modeled after a friend of mine who passed away. Her character was my way of coping through that loss and therefore I took everything said about her very personally because she was deeply personal to me. A mistake in writing, I know. I don't expect everyone to like her, it's totally fine if you don't. But she is here to stay and she's integral to the plot moving forward.