A/N: I apologise for taking so long to post this chapter. This one took forever because (1) I was struck by the dreadful disease, Writer's Block and (2) Fanfiction.Net has been a bit unrealiable lately.
Incitata and Rage Point:: Many thanks (and hugs and kisses) for your plugs of this fic in the HP-Forum-That-No-Longer-Exists.
Nemesis: Hmm, we've spoken already, haven't we? But you haven't responded to my last email! ^_~
Aurora Lynn Rose: I'm not comfortable using profanity, so writing profanity (and all the other horrors) in this story makes me blush. You have noticed that I still haven't gotten around to actually spelling out the F word. Yep, Tommy is a bit sick, isn't he? More displays of sickness ahead, I'm afraid.
Iphigenia: No, I don't believe Riddle was born evil. I think the circumstances or environment (neglect and abuse) in which he grew up in made him into the evil thing that he is. You will learn more about his earlier years in later chapters. So, to answer your question, I believe nurture was responsible for Riddle's character.
PotionsMaster: Uh oh. I changed his birth date to the 24th. After I thought about it for awhile (I have a tendency to do that), I concluded that he was most likely physically born on the date of his rebirth (Book 4). It seems to make sense. Of course, JKR may later tell us he was born on Halloween or on the 13th of June. *sigh*
All: Thanks for being so patient, and many hugs and kisses for staying with this disturbingly dark fic. A dozen roses, of course, to those who submit a review.
Warning: Violence (of course), remarks of a racial nature, and implied nastiness.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter ideas, characters, and places do not belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Warner Brothers.
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Immortalis Dominus Dominatus
Part I: Alpha
by Auror5
~~~~~~
Chapter V: Draco Evigilo
"Where is Edmund?" he spat.
This was the third consecutive meeting Edmund Dulovo had missed since the Christmas holidays ended.
"He's in the infirmary," answered Garret Oblong.
"Again? How many f---ing times does he plan to go there?" Tom responded.
Normally silent Brett Mitchell surprised everyone by speaking. "He's gone mental," said the chubby, bespectacled boy in a soft voice. "He always shakes and chucks before the meetings."
"Aye, he does," said Garret. "He wakes us nearly every night thrashing and screaming. He doesn't even talk to us anymore. Spends his time crying in the Owlery, he does."
Isaac sniggered. "For his mummy?"
"Boo hoo hoo. Mummy, I want more money and things," added Timothy. "Please, Mummy. Boo hoo hoo. Boo HOO HOO. Ahhhhhh, boo HOO HOO. BOO HOO hoo."
A number of the boys laughed while Timothy continued to "cry" in an outrageous manner.
"Shut up!" Tom snapped.
The boys immediately complied.
Tom turned to Brett. "Tell the little prick that he better bring four Galleons with him to the next meeting."
Then he turned to the rest of the "soldiers" in the chamber. "Now I have an assignment for all of you. Find out who all the Mudbloods are in this bloody school. I want a list of their names, understand?"
"Yes, Master," they replied.
******
He saw her racing through the corridor just before he entered the library. Herbology had been cancelled on account of the blizzard raging outside the castle walls. The storm sent icy drafts to pool in unsuspecting corridors and high-pitched wails through the loose windowpanes. Her long, dark curls streamed out behind her as she ran.
"Melia!"
Gasping for breath, she halted.
He caught up with her.
"Please," Melia stammered, "I'm late for Potions."
"You know you aren't supposed to run in the corridors."
"I know," she whined with a flushed face, "but I'm awfully late. Professor Kemmis removes ten points for every five minutes we're late, and I'm," she glanced at her watch, "already seven minutes late. I must go."
Melia began to walk away from him at a rapid pace.
Tom slightly quickened his step to match her stride.
"You do know, Melia, that running in the corridors means fifteen points from Slytherin?"
Breathless, she retorted in a slightly exasperated tone, "You're a prefect. You wouldn't remove points from your own house. Just pretend you didn't see me."
Gazing down at her askance, he smirked at her flippancy.
"Oh I can't pretend to not see you, Melia," he said, softly. "But you're right. I do want Slytherin to win the House Cup."
She briefly gazed up at him, and then reached out to grasp the doorknob to her right.
Tom followed her as she stepped into the classroom. The second year Slytherins and Gryffindors looked up from their work as they entered.
"Mr. Riddle," Professor Kemmis exclaimed in surprise, "what brings you here?"
"I'm sorry for interrupting your lesson, sir. I was just escorting Miss Conrad to her class. I ran into her as she was leaving a girls' bathroom. She told me that she had taken ill in a toilet."
At her desk, Melia paused while removing articles from her bag and glanced up.
"Miss Conrad, are you feeling better now?" said Kemmis. "Do you wish to see Madam Salve?"
"Erm, no, sir," Melia demurely replied with a neutral expression on her face. "I'm feeling better now."
"All right. Since you were ill, I will not remove any points from Slytherin." He turned to Tom. "Thank you, Mr. Riddle, for seeing that Miss Conrad arrived to her lesson."
He nodded and left the classroom.
After supper that day, Tom sat in a dark corner of the common room speaking with Alvar, Miles, Uthman, and Max about Hogwarts' Muggle-born students.
"If I were on the Hogwarts Board of Governors," stated Uthman imperiously, "I would see to it that the rules were changed to state that Mudbloods aren't allowed here."
"I think," Tom said with circumspect, "that perhaps the environment should be made less welcome for them."
Max ginned. "Aye. Perhaps we should make it more difficult for them. They wouldn't like it so much if they were to become, er, accident prone."
"Or if they were always ending up on the wrong end of a curse," chimed in Miles.
"Or," said Alvar, "if they were constantly spending time in the infirmary with broken limbs."
"Or," said Tom with an odd gleam in his eyes, "getting killed."
"Erm, excuse me."
The teens glanced up from their circle and beheld Melia standing nearby with her friend, Rivers.
Shyly, Melia briefly glanced at the boys and then directed her attention to Tom.
"Erm, I just wanted to thank you for helping me earlier."
Tom gazed up at her and smiled. "You're very much welcome."
"All right. 'Bye." She raised her hand in a half-wave, and then she and Rivers moved off to another corner of the room.
He watched her go with a knowing smirk on his face.
"Who was the bird?" Uthman said, quietly. "And what did you do for her, Lord Voldemort?"
Still smirking, Tom turned toward Uthman and said, "Coaxed her to step on the path to her destiny."
******
"She's an Animagus, I've heard," commented Omin Strick as Tom and his friends sat at a table in the Three Broomsticks.
Sipping butterbeer, Tom closely watched Sheena Reese make her way over to a table occupied by her fellow Ravenclaws. She was an exotic appearing, lithe black girl with amber eyes and a complexion of that of dark chocolate. He was wondering what it would feel like to caress her bare skin when he noticed Colby Pinstripe sit beside her. Tom's features hardened with hatred.
"What form does she take?" inquired Max LaSalle with his mouth full of fudge cake.
"A panther," replied Daemon Strick.
"I'm surprised her kind have any magic at all," stated Miles.
"What do you mean by that?" said Alvar.
"Her kind were once slaves, you know. They're barbaric, inferior." Then he added, "I'm amazed that some of them were intelligent enough to have magic, and she's a prefect." Miles shook his head.
"Too bad the wizards and witches of her kind weren't made into slaves for us," said Uthman while gazing at Sheena over the rim of his goblet. "I'm sure they would be better servants than the damn house-elves we have."
"Excuse us. May we sit here?"
Completely engrossed in their conversation, the boys failed to see Skye Amberidge and Cynthia Darkling enter their space.
Skye tossed her long, straw-coloured hair and said, "May we? These are the only two empty chairs left in the whole place."
The boys shrugged. Skye quickly took the empty chair next to Tom.
"Hi, Tom," Skye said brightly while batting her thick eyelashes. "You were splendid in the Duelling Tournament. I knew you were going to win for our house. You're the best." Then she gave him her most winning smile.
"Thanks," Tom replied, half-looking at her.
"Did you finish your transfiguration assignment?"
"Yes."
"Indeed? Could you help me? Please, Tom? I am so lost in that lesson! Dumbledore makes it so difficult. Could you help me? Please say yes, Tom. I'll do anything for you, if you'd help me get high marks for this assignment."
He turned his full attention onto Skye.
Blushing slightly, her heart quickened its pace as the handsomest boy in the fifth year gazed into her pale blue eyes. After several more seconds elapsed, Skye began to feel slightly uncomfortable under his probing stare.
"Please, Tom?" Then she pouted in an attempt to make herself appear more alluring.
"All right."
"Oh thank you!" she gushed. "When can we start? How about the library, tonight? It will be mostly empty, so we won't have to worry about any distractions."
"No, not there. The common room after supper will be fine."
"But, Tom, it's always so noisy and crowded in there after supper. It would be better if we were in a quieter place."
With a trace of irritation, he responded, "I said the common room, Skye. If you want my help, you will meet me there after supper."
Crestfallen, she replied in a slightly injured tone, "All right."
Tom then dismissed her from his thoughts and consideration.
******
The soft hooting of the owls in the circular room atop a tower soothed his psyche. He stroked the snowy owl on his knee unmindful of the chill and odour of bird dung. Hundreds of miles away his mind drifted. On the back of his winged horse, Lancelot, he soared above an imagined landscape experiencing joy underlaid with a drowning depression.
In this tower, his mind's eye absorbing the beauty of a fantasy, he could escape the shame and fear by burying them in flight. He was unable to accomplish this feat in the castle proper, although he desperately tried. He wanted to seek solace from the unspeakable images and the overwhelming emotions they always brought. These torments crowded and battered his soul during the day and blackened his dreams at night.
Since the ruination, he kept his gaze lowered in the company of others. He did not want them to discover in his eyes what he had been attempting to submerge in the wake left by the part of him that simply died.
He fell to Earth when the door to the Owlery swung open.
It was he.
Forgetting the owl perched on his knee, the boy leapt up in fright and stumbled backward.
Musala, his snowy owl, loudly squawked once with indignation while swooping up towards a vacated ledge. One white feather slowly spiralled down to the floor.
The tall, fifth year with features distorted in anger grabbed him by the neck and roughly shoved him onto the straw and bone-littered floor. Then he straddled the boy.
Tears sprang from his eyes like the sudden fall of water from atop a cliff. The boy whimpered in pain as the scourge gripped his upper arms.
"Please. Don't," he stammered between sobs.
"Shut up, you f---ing bender," he snapped. "Why haven't you been attending the meetings?"
The boy continued to cry.
Tom grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked. He screamed as several strands tore free of his scalp.
"Answer me, Edmund!"
"I, I don't know," he sobbed.
"Liar!" exclaimed Tom, and then he slapped the first year.
Tom bent his face toward Edmund and whispered conspiratorially in his ear, "D'you want more punishment? You liked it, didn't you? You wished the holidays would never end, didn't you?"
Edmund squeezed his eyes shut as waves of shame engulfed him.
Tom stood and towered over him. "You will be at the meeting this Saturday, Edmund. And you will bring seven Galleons with you."
Trembling uncontrollably while sitting up, Edmund watched Tom leave the room as tears trickled down his face and robe.
The following day, Edmund discovered his beloved Musala's broken and lifeless body on the floor of the Owlery. Distraught with grief, he shrieked until the Head Girl, Minerva McGonagall, happened to enter the room. Then he fainted.
******
Roaming the seventh floor late one night in search of Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets, Tom spotted movement at the end of the corridor as he stepped out of a girls' bathroom. Stealthily, he went toward the direction in which he could barely hear footfalls. Once he reached the corner, he halted and then peeked around the wall. It was the second year Gryffindor some referred to as "Mountain Boy," "Giant," and "Troll." Tom quietly and rapidly approached the over seven foot tall thirteen-year-old.
"Hagrid."
Rubeus Hagrid quickly turned around to face the voice that called his name.
Tom observed that Hagrid wore a guilty expression and carried a small, blanket-wrapped bundle. Hagrid had nearly dropped this parcel when Tom startled him.
"What are you holding, Hagrid?"
"Nothin.' Jus' some food from the kitchens."
"Indeed? And what are doing up here so late at night? Isn't the Gryffindor common room on the opposite side?"
Hagrid frowned down at him. "What're you doin' here?"
"I asked you a question, you simpleminded fool!" he hissed. "You aren't allowed in this corridor, on this floor, at this hour! Do you understand, idiot?"
Hagrid simply glared down at Tom.
"Answer me, you bloody, thick-headed oaf," he snarled.
"I wasn' doin' anythin' wrong!"
"Fifty points from Gryffindor for roaming the castle after hours," snapped Tom. "If you don't remove your stupid, sheep face from my sight now, I will remove another fifty points."
With a combined angry, hurt glance at Tom, Hagrid swiftly left the vicinity.
******
"Where's Abby?"
The boys glanced at each other and shrugged.
"Clem, was she in lessons today?"
"Yes, Master."
"Then why isn't she here?"
"I don't know."
Annoyed, Tom looked around at the boys encircling him. "Did anyone see her after supper?"
"I did," responded Friedrich.
"Where was she?"
"In the common room with her friend, Greta."
Tom muttered, "Miss Orlen has some explaining to do." Then he waved his hand dismissively. "Did you all remember your assignment? It's due. Now."
One by one they gave him a piece of parchment with names writ upon it.
Late that night, on his way to Hogsmeade to observe a certain dame while she bathed, Tom spotted Abigail in a corner of the dark common room with textbooks opened before her. The glow from the single hovering candle painted her face warm gold.
Before she could glance up, Tom rushed over and brutally seized her upper arm. The flame from the candle almost winked out from the disturbed gust of air.
"Where were you?"
"Gerroff me!" Abby struggled to free herself from his painful grasp.
Tom shoved her to the floor.
"Where were you, bitch?"
"I don't want to be a part of your army anymore!"
"You swore, Abby! You swore eternal loyalty to me."
"And I said I don't want to be your soldier anymore."
Tom hit her across the face with his fist. Bright blood sprang from her nose.
Abigail briefly whimpered and then spat in Tom's face.
He grabbed Abigail by her flame-coloured hair and dragged her to her feet.
"Lemme go," she pleaded as Tom pulled her by the hair towards the stairs leading down to the dormitories.
Downstairs, he escorted her into a girls' bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door and removed his grip from Abigail's hair.
She attempted to escape, but he caught her before she reached the door. Tom then carried her into a spacious stall housing a toilet.
Flipping her over so that she hung head down over the toilet, he quietly said, "I ought to drown you, Abby."
"Go ahead. Then I would be free." Then she added, "Free from you."
He lowered her toward the toilet. For a moment, Abigail thought he would carry out his threat. Then he righted her and placed her upon her feet.
"You're not leaving me, Abby."
"I no longer want to be a member of your army, Riddle."
Tom shook his head. "You swore, Abby! You can't leave me. You promised me loyalty and faithfulness."
"I renege! You're evil, and I HATE you!"
He recoiled as though he had been slapped. Swiftly recovering, he grabbed her by the neck with both hands and began to squeeze.
Throttling Abigail, Tom shouted, "You can't leave me. I won't allow it. You swore."
Abigail struggled ineffectually to free her neck from Tom's grip. As her face and lips took on a bluish caste, her efforts ceased.
Distantly, as she succumbed to the enveloping darkness, Abigail heard Tom say, "Don't leave me. You're my true family."
******
A hundred footfalls above the Hall of Receeveth. Followeth the layn where it ends near the open vue of the land. In the chaymber wherith wytches groometh lys a spout wherith clensing water floweth. Look closelee, me frynd, for thyr ye will findeth a serpent. Speek to it and it will showeth ye the way.
Tom glanced up from the thick volume he had been reading and focused on the whispering coming from a nearby bookshelf. He thought he heard his name mentioned. Silently, Tom gathered his belongings and placed them in his worn book bag. Then he rose and cautiously walked in the direction in which he heard the voices.
"I just don't believe he's that way."
"Listen to me, Sheena. There is something wrong with Riddle. Don't let his charming smile fool you. Have you ever looked into his eyes?"
"No."
"I have. There's nothing there. They're empty, dead, dark. It is as though he doesn't have a soul."
"I think you're being too harsh, Colby!"
"Shhh! Madam Pince will be sure to throw us out if you don't keep your voice down."
"I still think you're being too unfair to him. We all know how much you hate him. Are you still angry about that duelling lesson of over a year ago?"
"This has nothing to do with bloody duelling!"
"Shhh!"
"He has pulled the blinders over your eyes, Sheena. Open your eyes and see what he really is behind his smiles."
"He's nice. That's what I see, Colby. He doesn't look at me with contempt like many around here do because of my dark colour."
"So, you would sell your soul to the devil because he has no problem with your race?"
"That's a horrible thing to say! I think you're prejudiced against him. You're jealous, that's what. Why don't you say so and stop pretending?!"
"Shhh! I'm not jealous of that bloody bastard. Why would I want to be like him, soulless and dark?"
"Stop saying that! He isn't that way at all. He's brilliant and always friendly to everyone. I see it. Even to the first years, he's cordial. The professors seem to love and admire him. He's so brilliant, always the top of the class. He always comes up with the best ideas in our prefect meetings. In our lessons, when we need partners, he always volunteers to be mine when you can't. Most don't want to be near me. I like him for that."
"Yes, of course. The professors all love him. He has his Slytherin admirers following him about Hogsmeade. Girls fawning all over him. It's disgusting. Yes, he treats you fine and dandy, Sheena, but what about his close friends, eh?"
"What about them?"
"Oh, so you don't know about his friends, eh? All of them are from families who are known supporters of Lord Grindelwald. Malfoy, LaSalle, Dougal, McKinley, all of them."
"It isn't Riddle's fault what his friends are."
"They are all from a long line of dark wizards. Why would he want to associate with people like that? Riddle's no better than they. He's worse, I tell you!"
"Shhh! He's a Slytherin. Who else would his friends be? If you are so concerned, why haven't you tried to become his friend?"
"Why should I? Why would I want to friend someone who is evil?"
"He's not evil!"
"Shhh! Believe what you want, Sheena, but if I were you I would not let his charms trick me. He's like Satan, he is...fooling everyone. Did you know that he is an orphan? I found out. He lives in a Muggle orphanage. He has no proper wizarding background. He has no family. He lives off the charity of others."
"Then we ought to pity him. It must be difficult for him to live like that, with no family to visit during the holidays. I feel sorry for him."
"Don't, Sheena. He's dark. Please, just look in his eyes, will you? Do it for me, Sheena."
"I think you aren't being fair to him, Colby. You just told me he grew up in an orphanage. It must have been horrible for him. I heard about those Muggle orphanages. Don't condemn him. He's not evil, perhaps lonely and sad. Mayhap you see sadness in his eyes, not darkness!"
"Shhh! I will tell you one thing: Not all of the professors are taken by Riddle's false charms. There is one who sees right through him like I do."
"And who may that be?"
"Professor Dumbledore."
"Oh come...."
At that moment, Tom stepped into view. He observed the abashed expression on Reese's face and the fleeting frightened one on Pinstripe's.
"Hullo, Sheena. Erm, I was wondering if you were on your way to the prefect meeting."
"Erm, yes."
"Then we can go together. I was on my way up."
"All right."
Halfway to the library exit, Tom glanced back and smirked at Pinstripe who was glaring malevolently at him.
******
"Where's Abigail?" he snapped.
The boys encircling him imperceptibly stepped back. They had spotted the fury in his eyes. Edmund cowered when Tom's gaze briefly settled upon him.
"Does anyone know where the f---ing bitch is? Tell me!"
"We don't know, Master," answered Jason quietly. "She was in all of our lessons today, and I saw her at supper."
"Did anyone see her after supper?"
The boys shook their heads.
"All right then. Miss Orlen will be severely disciplined for disobeying me. Until she returns, treat her as the bloody traitor she is, understand?"
The soldiers nodded.
"Make life miserable for her. I will not tolerate any deserters!" Then he shrieked, "You have all sworn complete loyalty to ME."
Uneasily, they stepped back.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he glared at each boy in turn. "Each of you have sworn eternal loyalty to me. You can never leave me. Never. Didn't my mark seal your loyalty, faithfulness, and obedience to me?"
Mutely, they stared at him.
"Answer me!"
"Yes, Lord," they replied in unison.
"You can never, ever leave me. You're bound to me by the scar on your arm.
"Now then. Daemon and Omin did you photograph all of the Mudbloods in this school as you were told?"
"Yes, Master," the teens chorused.
"Good. Give them to me."
The Strick twins each handed him an envelope.
Tom seized the sealed packages and briefly glanced inside each. "Good. Very well done. Both of you shall be rewarded."
"Thanks, Master."
"All of you are dismissed, except Isaac. Leave your Sickles with Alvar." Tom turned to Alvar. "Flog anyone who did not bring one Sickle. You have the whip, eh?"
"Yes, Lord."
"Good."
Isaac fearfully watched everyone slowly filter from the chamber.
Once the room had emptied, Tom closed the door and turned to Isaac who was visibly shaking.
"Please, Master, what have I done?"
"Nothing. I have a special assignment for you."
"Oh," Isaac exhaled with relief. "What do you want me to do?"
"First, I want you to photograph Colby Pinstripe. D'you know who he is?"
Isaac frowned. "I don't think so. What does he look like?"
"He's about my height. Has brown hair, blue eyes, and a broom-shaped birthmark on the side of his neck. He's a Ravenclaw fifth year. I will point him out for you tomorrow, all right?"
The boy nodded.
"Your second assignment will be given to you by the end of the week. I will give you an owl treat, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"You will go to the Owlery and feed it to Abigail's owl. Do you know which one belongs to her?"
"Aye, a Great Grey, Thebes."
"Yes, that's the one. You will feed the owl treat to Thebes. Make sure no one sees you enter the Owlery or spots you inside, understand?"
"Yes, Master."
"Good. You may leave."
******
Abigail missed the next meeting. Seething, Tom thought the death of her owl would convince her to return to him.
Glaring at Abigail from across the common room, he lowered his voice. "Uthman, Max, I have a task for you both."
"What is it?" said Max.
"That little redheaded witch over there is truly beginning to annoy me with her impudence."
"You wish for us to teach her a lesson?" Uthman replied with a grin that did not reach his eyes.
"Yes, indeed. Tomorrow, after lessons have ended for the day, follow her. Sit near her during supper. After supper, tell her that you want to speak with her. Then take her to our meeting chamber and beat her. Both of you. Don't leave any marks on her face, understand?"
"Aye, we do," Max responded. "She will be one hurting witch when we're done with her. Eh, Uthman?"
"Yes, indeed." He smiled widely.
"Remember, leave no marks on her face."
"Mahnnie, have you seen Rhiannon? I've been looking all over for her."
Startled, the teens glanced up at the girl who had spoken.
"What do you think I am?" Uthman snarled. "Rhiannon's keeper?"
Chloe glared at him. "You don't have to be so nasty, Uthman. I just asked!"
"Well, I don't know, and I don't care!" he snapped. "And next time, Chloe, don't interrupt our conversation. I'm sure Mother and Father taught their little princess better manners."
Chloe gave her brother a brief look of intense contempt and left.
Uthman watched her go. "Yes, it will be easy for me to teach Abigail a lesson. All I have to do is pretend that she is my f---ing little sister."
******
Tom wanted to kill her for defying him. I should have strangled the life from her when I had the chance, he said to himself.
He thought the severe beating Uthman and Max administered to Abigail would frighten her into returning to him. However he had not counted on her strong will. Tom vowed he would break it, even if he had to murder her.
While nearly the entire Slytherin house was in the Great Hall partaking of supper, Tom was standing in the second year girls' room. He went over to where he believed Abigail slept.
Yes, this is it, he thought after spotting the diary she usually carried around with her on the bed.
Tom took the diary and left.
In the fifth year Slytherin boys' dormitory, he opened Abigail's diary and flipped through the pages. Boring, little girl's stuff, he thought.
Tom turned to a blank page in the book and then removed the wand from his robe. He then picked up the quill on his night table. Pointing the wand at the hand holding the quill, he said,
"Ementior."
Then he began to write.
Late that night, while everyone slept, he silently entered the second year girls' room. He removed Abigail's diary from the pocket of his robe, bent, and carefully placed it under Greta's bed. Before exiting, he went over to where Melia slept and pulled back the curtains. Tom stared at her sleeping form for several minutes and then reached down to lightly stroke her cheek.
Melia frowned in her sleep while turning away from his caress.
******
"I still don't understand how it works, Tom," said Skye silkily.
Tom was explaining the intricacies of the Crippling Curse to Skye and Cynthia. He was becoming impatient with their feigned ignorance.
"Yes, you do. Don't play games with me, Skye."
"But...."
"You horrid witch! How could you?" screamed Greta.
Silence descended on the common room as everyone turned to see what the commotion was about.
Abigail leapt from her chair. "What are you talking about?" she yelled.
"This!" Greta waved Abigail's diary in front of her face.
Abigail reached out to grab the book but Greta prevented her from grasping it.
"It's mine! Where did you get it? I've been looking all over for it."
"Indeed you were, you horrid thing. Didn't want anyone to see what you wrote in it, did you?"
"What are you talking about? And I'm not horrid!"
"Aye, you are! You're a liar and no friend of mine. I thought you were my friend, Abby!"
"I am!"
"You're a LIAR," Greta shrieked. Then she turned to the audience. "She says I'm her friend, eh? Well, just listen to what she writes about her friends!"
Greta opened the diary and began to read.
Greta, she's my best friend and I like her very much. But she smells bad, sort of like a wet, dirty crup.(1) I can't stand her stink sometimes. Once I thought I saw lice in her hair. Her nose is far too long and pointy; else, she would be pretty, I think. Bathing regularly would be good for her, too.
"I stink, do I? Don't bathe? Have LICE in my hair?" Then her mouth trembled. "And so what about my nose! What about your million freckles and short, ugly, red hair?"
"I didn't write that, Greta! Honest! I didn't do it!"
"LIAR! It's in your diary and in your writing." Greta turned to look at one of the girls nearby. "Let's see what she says about you, Rose."
How could her parents name her Rose? She's anything but! Rose looks a lot like the hags found in our history book. She's horribly ugly and big for a girl. She even snores loudly in her sleep like a warlock. I do think she may have troll blood in her. Her parents should have named her Grunt.
The second year girl named Rose choked back a sob and lumbered as fast as possible from the common room.
Greta continued to read.
Ophelia looks like a scrawny, starving rat dragged from a pond.
Jason and Clem sniggered. Then Clem whispered, a bit too loudly, to Jason, "She does, doesn't she?"
Ophelia burst into tears and ran from the room.
I don't know what Melia sees in Rivers. Everyone can see that Rivers wishes she were Melia. She even tried to put curls in her hair once but the charm failed miserably. She ended up with immense folds and wrinkles on her face.
Several guffawed at this.
Standing beside Melia, Rivers blushed.
Rivers is pretty though, but she will never be as pretty and interesting as Melia. And she knows that. She will always be in Melia's shadow. She's also quite stupid. A flobberworm looks brilliant in comparison.
I found out that Jason and Clem are fairies.
"WHAT? That's a lie!" said Jason. "You LIAR! We aren't that way."
Greta resumed.
They are fairies. They spend all their time together, if you notice. You would think Jason would get tired of looking at Clem's beaver teeth after a while. I would. He looks like a ghoul, and he's the biggest coward I've ever known.
"Oh, I am, am I?" Clem glared at Abigail. "And you're a rotten, little, little...BITCH!"
"I DIDN'T WRITE ANY OF THAT! Please believe me. Please. I didn't write it!"
"Oh shut yer gob, Orlen. You've been caught," said a fourth year girl. "Carry on, Greta. This is very entertaining, almost as good as Quidditch, don't you think?"
A number of the students in the room expressed their agreement.
"Go on then," several older boys shouted.
"All right," said Greta.
Melia is a whore.
Melia blanched upon hearing this.
Aye, she is. Once, I saw her standing naked before the mirror and running her hands over her body. She told me that she wished one of the older boys would do that to her.
"That isn't true! I did no such thing. I don't want that!" Then she rounded on Abigail. "How could you make up those lies? You know they aren't true! How could you?"
"There's more," said Greta.
Melia wishes she had a lover. That's what she told me. She said that she could have any boy she wants because she's the prettiest girl in the school, and all the boys fancy her. But she only wants the older ones. She told me that sometimes she wishes she could sneak into one of the older boys' rooms and climb into one of their beds naked.
Many of the boys in the common room hooted and cheered.
"Oi, you are welcome to my bed any time," said Cole Rudyard, Tom's fellow fifth year.
Tears flowing down her cheeks, Melia shrieked, "I HATE you, you lying, filthy witch." Then she ran from the room with Rivers following close on her heels.
Tears standing in her eyes, Abigail shook her head. "I didn't write any of that. Honest. I'm telling the truth."
"YOU DID." Then Greta threw the book at Abigail. It hit her on the forehead and left a small bruise there.
Abigail whipped out her wand and pointed it at Greta.
"Now, now," said a seventh year prefect moving over to stand between Greta and Abigail. "There's no need for that, eh? The show is over my friends, Romans, countrymen, wizards, witches, and all that.2 Abigail, please leave. You've caused enough damage, wouldn't you say?"
With a brief despairing glance at those surrounding her, Abigail ran stumbling from the room.
A huge grin on his face, Tom watched her leave.
******
Despite all that happened, Abigail failed to appear at the next meeting.
Enraged, Tom furtively followed her after supper to the library, which had become her sanctuary.
Shortly after 10 P.M., Abigail rose to leave the library. Tom silently pursued her into the corridor. Before she reached the tapestry leading to the dungeons, Tom reached out and grasped her by the arm.
"Oh no. You're coming with me, witch," he said, softly.
Face pale with misery, Abigail glanced up at him. "I can scream, you know."
"But you won't." In a blink of an eye, he removed the wand from his pocket, pointed it at her, and said, "Mutus."
Silently, he marched her up many flights of stairs until they reached the top of the Astronomy Tower. They stepped out onto the roof and into the cold wind. Tom still gripped Abigail's arm.
He shoved her to the edge of the roof. Abigail stumbled and nearly fell.
"You've greatly disappointed me, Abby. I don't like to be disappointed. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Abigail opened her mouth to speak but only a small moan issued forth.
"Oh yes. I had forgotten." He raised his wand and uttered a spell.
"Now then. I will repeat my question: what do you have to say for yourself, Miss Orlen?"
"I still don't want to be a part of your army. Nothing you can do, Riddle, will make me change my mind."
"You swore, Abby. Do you really enjoy being without friends? I think not. But you will return to me."
"I won't."
Tom glanced up at the night sky. "There are many stars up there, eh? Make a wish, Abby. Wish upon a star!"
She stared at him as though he were mad.
"Should I gather that you've made your wish then? All right."
Tom rushed toward Abigail and roughly shoved her off the roof of the Astronomy Tower, the highest point of the castle.
Abigail screamed as she tumbled into space. The strong wind carried her cry away. She managed to halt her plunge by reaching out and grabbing onto a small, rusty pipe jutting out from the wall.
Standing at the edge of the roof, Tom stared down at the white face below him.
"Please. Please help me." The wind seemed to tear the words from her mouth.
Tom smiled when he heard the pipe she was barely clinging to begin to give way.
~~~~~~
(1)J.K. Rowling as Newt Scamander, Fantastic Beasts & Where To Find Them, (Scholastic Press, 2001), p8.
A/N: *shivers* I am beginning to scare myself silly.
(2)It looks like the seventh year Slytherin prefect has read Shakespeare (Julius Caesar).
Regarding the racial remarks by the rotten Slytherins: I apologise if I have offended anyone. My intent was not to hurt anyone but to show what sort of friends Riddle had chosen. Please accept my apologies.
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