International Wizarding School Championship (IWSC); R5

School: Beauxbatons

Theme: Write about a character's jealousy impacting their actions

Year: 5

Mandatory Prompt: [Emotion] Jealousy

Additional Prompt: [Dialogue] "I didn't leave because of (pronoun or name), but (pronoun) is/are the reason I never came back."

Word Count: 2995

AU: Same Age!AU, No Dark Lord!AU, Muggle!AU

Additional notes: I'm pretty sure that poison doesn't work the way I've depicted it does, but, for the sake of the story, please go along with it. Also, I'm pretty sure that you won't just hear your dead loved one again but again, please accept it for the sake of the story. Also, Tom is OOC because he retains his ability to love Harry. Harry and Lavender may be a bit OOC too. Lavender's death scene is also unrealistic, so...please excuse that.

Trigger Warnings: Accidental Murder, Attempted Suicide, Murder

Beta(s): Sloane, Ash


Tom waited for Harry by the playground. More than one child gave him weird looks because of his age which he ignored. Committing murder was bad. Harry wouldn't like it.

Tom beamed, the smile lighting up his face. Harry had arrived. However, the beam vanished when he saw a brown-haired girl walking with him. A girl was hanging off his Harry's arm, and Harry wasn't removing her. He needed answers.

Harry grinned a bit nervously. He must've seen how quickly Tom's expression had changed from happy to closed-off. The girl seemed completely at ease.

"Hello!" the girl said, and Tom instantly hated her. Her voice was too bright, too eager, too chipper. "I'm Lavender Brown. I've heard all about you, of course, from school and from Harry." She smiled, and he thought that the blinding white teeth should've come with a warning sign, 'Do Not Stare Too Long: Will Cause Permanent Blindness'.

Oh yes, he remembered her now. They both went to Hogwarts School of Talented Students. He had been forced to pair up with her in some physics experiments, and of course, she'd spent the entire time fussing about her nails rather than helping out.

"Have you now?" he asked.

Brown giggled. Giggled! He didn't know how Harry put up with her.

"Yes, he's told me all about you." She seemed seconds away from hopping. "He even told me the time when you—" Harry clamped his hand over her mouth, his face red like a tomato. While Tom appreciated the action of shutting her up, he wanted to know what Harry had told her about Tom.

"Yes, well," Harry coughed, averting his eyes and blushing slightly. "Point is, I want us to be friends. I hope you don't have a problem with that?"

Harry looked imploringly at him. How could Tom refuse when Harry looked at him with such a cute expression? He couldn't. So, although every molecule in his body protested otherwise, Tom fixed a smile on his face and said, "Of course I don't have a problem."

Harry's smile made it worth it.


Tom had thought being 'friends' with Lavender Brown simply meant that she would forcefully come along to wherever they went, and then Tom and Harry would forget about her and go on their merry way. However, the reality was not as pleasant. Brown did tag along, yes. And he did try to forget her, but that didn't mean Harry would do the same. Most of their 'hangouts' went something like this:

"Would you—" Before Tom was able to complete his sentence, Lavender would start babbling about something or the other, usually fashion, accessorizing or anything girly.

And, of course, Harry always indulged her, which often left Tom feeling left out. He couldn't even spend time with Harry alone as Brown had decided that she was Harry's personal parasite who had to travel with him everywhere while clutching his arm and dropping flirtatious comments left and right (the stupid, completely adorable oaf never understood them).

More often than not, Brown would look over to him and give the same smug smile that made him want to rip her head off her shoulders. But he didn't do anything, accepting everything with graceful dignity. After all, Harry wouldn't like it if Tom killed her.


Tom seethed with rage, seeing red. How dare she! Harry was Tom's, goddammit! Harry had been his ever since he had defended Tom—not that Tom needed defending, just that Harry was the first person to ever do that—against some particularly loathsome third years when they were both first years. No one in the entire school questioned this. Not his allies, not Granger and Weasley—Harry's 'friends'—not even their teachers! Why would this…this bint come out of nowhere, start hanging out with them—without his permission—and has the audacity to kiss Harry!

No one, no one was allowed to kiss Harry with the sole—sole!—exception of himself. Harry did push her away in record time and insisted she had too much to drink—they had been visiting a local bar where it didn't matter if you were a couple years under eighteen—but he swore he had seen her smug smile. Of course, Harry became angry when Tom mentioned this to him. Precious Lavender couldn't have done anything bad, now, could she? No! She was the ultimate angel while he was the demon.

It should've been him kissing Harry, goddammit! Not some chipper girl hell-bent on making his life miserable! Seeing her kiss Harry birthed a beast in his chest. It reared its ugly head and growled, wanting nothing more than to tear Brown to shreds.

Tom pursed his lips. Brown was becoming too much of a hassle. And with this new change…she needed to go. It wouldn't be that hard—he had done it before to punish his father and grandparents for leaving him in that infernal orphanage—and he knew how to get by undetected. Tom's eyes twinkled at the new challenge. And he had the perfect method in mind.


Tom invited Harry and Brown to the mansion in Little Hangleton which he had inherited when his father and grandparents had died. Since he was a minor, he was still locked in the hellish orphanage, but he could come here from time to time without adult supervision if he didn't stay the night.

After torturing his ears with Brown's nonsensical babbling, he, being the ever-gracious host, announced that he would be bringing tea and cupcakes. Of course, Ms I'm-too-good-to-glance-at-you Brown instantly jumped at the opportunity and all but banned him from entering his living room. Harry gave him an uncomfortable lopsided smile, and Tom plastered a smile on his face. He left.

Tom injected the poison into a separate bowl of chocolate for Brown's cupcake. The chocolate was quite poisonous and would kill someone who licked it in minutes. When she ingested the actual cupcake though, it would take several hours for her to die. There would be no trace that it was actually a slow-acting poison since it was very rare. Not many people had access to it—especially not a sixteen-year-old—and no one would think of a fast-acting poison made slow-acting. So it would be deemed as suicide, and he would be left unblamed.

Suddenly, Harry entered the room, blissfully without Brown.

"Tom," Harry said, as he grinned, no doubt at seeing Tom slaving away in the kitchen, "I didn't know you could cook."

"No," he deadpanned. "I just throw in stuff together and hope I don't give someone food poisoning."

Harry laughed, and Tom relaxed. It was good to fall back into the comforting, familiar banter. It had been days since they had some time to themselves.

"Ooh, chocolate!" Harry exclaimed.

Tom turned towards him in alarm. It was too slow though, as Harry had already dipped his finger in Brown's chocolate and licked it.

"Harry, no!" he cried out. But it was already done.

Not a minute later, Harry had fallen down, curling into himself in a fetal position. Blood spurted out of his mouth.

"Harry, Harry, can you hear me? Harry?" Tom asked desperately as he fell down onto his knees next to Harry and siphoned off as much of the crimson fluid as he could.

"Tom," Harry gasped out, his green eyes alight with pain and suffering. Tom tried to calm himself down; there had to be some sort of cure. He searched his mind frantically while Harry continued to groan and moan at the increasing pain.

Tom knew that with the level of pain Harry was experiencing, any normal person would be screaming their heads off. He had chosen this particular poison to make Brown suffer. But he had done no research on its antidote.

At last, Tom was forced to admit defeat and, with nothing left to do, he slipped to the ground beside Harry and held him close. Harry whimpered, sounding like a wounded kitten. Tom wanted to kick himself; how could he have been so stupid? How could he have not studied the poison's antidote? It was one of the most important things to do, in case he accidentally drank some of it—stranger things had happened. He had grown too arrogant, thinking himself above the rules set by serial killers like Grindelwald.

"Harry…Harry, please. Hold on," Tom begged. Harry's gasps for air became more desperate. Fountains of blood gushed out each time Harry coughed—far more than Tom could mop up. "You will be okay."

Harry gave Tom a weak smile which still somehow reached his eyes, making them sparkle. Tom knew that Harry didn't have much time left.

"Live your life to the fullest, Tom," Harry croaked out. Tom laid Harry's head down on Tom's lap.

"I'm glad to have you in my life," Harry continued.

"No, no, no, Harry," Tom said. "Don't say your goodbye yet. I'm sure there's some way to revive you."

Harry still smiled, completely at ease. It seemed like death didn't scare him.

"Tom?" Harry asked after a few seconds.

"Yes?" Tom said, halting in running his hand through Harry's silky soft hair.

"I—" Harry started coughing violently, vomiting up even more blood. With all his research, Tom knew that Harry was close to dying. Tom gently ran his hands through Harry's hair, trying to keep his tears at bay—he wouldn't cry! He wouldn't!

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Harry slowly but surely ceased coughing and closed his eyes. A few minutes later, Tom checked Harry's pulse.

Harry was gone.

Tom gently closed Harry's eyes and wiped up the blood. It almost looked like Harry was sleeping and would wake up at any moment.

But he was dead, and she was responsible. A simple poison won't work. He would need something more painful.


He entered the living room to see that Brown was twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Upon seeing him, she demanded, "Where is Harry?"

He glanced at her coldly. She didn't know what she had done. But still, he had to act nicely towards her, if only for a few more moments.

"Harry is in the kitchen"—which wasn't technically false—"and I wanted to show you something."

Brown's mud-brown eyes sparkled.

"Ooh!" she squealed, her behaviour changing abruptly. "What is it?"

Tom gave her a smile, which he hoped didn't look too strained, and said, "It's a surprise. You need to come outside for it."

He led Brown to the denser part of the garden. Tall trees and overgrown hedges fenced the house in, their large leaves serving as a canopy overhead. Wildflowers grew in the bushes, and nature had reclaimed the Riddle's garden for its own. After Tom had killed his father and grandparents, he had dismissed the family gardener to conserve the Riddle fortune. Today, however, it would serve as the perfect ground for murder.

"Wh-what is the surprise, Tom?" Brown asked in a wavering voice.

He smiled sardonically. "You'll see soon enough," he promised. He continued walking until he reached the spot where sunlight couldn't penetrate the thick foliage.

"Where is the surprise, Tom?" she asked, gaining a bit more confidence in her voice.

"Stand there." He motioned towards the patch of ground with an incredible amount of dry leaves. She followed the command without a second thought.

"First things first," Tom said as he slipped the lighter from his jeans' pocket. "I don't remember giving you permission to call me Tom. So, do not call me that."

"Bu-but," she stammered, "I'm your friend!"

"No," he denied. "You are Harry's friend."

"What's happened to you?" she cried out.

"You see," he started in a soft, lethal voice. He glared at her, daring her to acknowledge the malevolence that was directed toward her. "Today, because of you, something near and dear to me was lost forever. And you must pay the price."

"Wh-what do you mean?" she asked, her brows wrinkling.

"Oh, nothing," he said in an airy voice. "Just that I will kill you."

"What?" she screeched and, at that exact moment, he threw the lighted lighter towards her. It landed in the pile of leaves near her feet. The tongues of the hot flame ensnared her ankles, rendering her unable to move. Her eyes were wide, face pale. She was staring at him, her eyes seeming to wordlessly accuse him. He could see the fear, the pain in her eyes, but she didn't move. Shock, he supposed.

After a few crucial moments, she finally began to move—to get away from the roaring fire—but she couldn't. Her legs were too burnt to be able to function. She begged him to put out the flames, to see that she hadn't done anything. Tom simply watched on. The snake-like flames burned away her flesh, which dropped to the ground like molten wax, revealing the bones and organs within. He watched in fascination as the bones became charred and dropped to the ground. The organs shrank and tore apart, falling to the ground with a soft thump. Throughout this all, a steady stream of "Please" left her bawling mouth. Finally, the flames crept up to her face and charred it thoroughly. She gave her last agonizing scream of pure pain and suffering before succumbing to the powerful flames. At last, the only remains of Lavender Brown was the ash that fell softly to the ground.

After it was done, he burnt Harry too—he didn't want to, but he couldn't leave any evidence—and poured the poisoned chocolate down the drain and returned to the orphanage.


A week later, Brown and Harry had been declared as missing children. Tom was interrogated repeatedly, but the police hadn't been able to find anything.

Tom still was dealing with his own demons. Every night, when he went to sleep, he could see Harry being murdered, as if his brain had put that on repeat, and Harry's last words—the ones he couldn't say—being, "I am disgusted by you."

He had thought that he would be able to get over Harry's death—after all, it was an accident. However, with each passing day, his brain began to torture him in ways more painful than what Brown had suffered in her final moments.

With every ethereal night, he became more and more sure that he was the cause of Harry's death. After all, knowing Harry's love for chocolate, he could've just warned Harry not to eat any of the chocolate in that bowl. He could've done so many things to make sure Harry didn't die, but, in the end, he had done nothing.

Days passed, and he began to feel more and more restless. There—there was a hole in his heart, something he thought he never had. And he knew exactly why he had that hole. With every golden sunrise, something gnawed at the hole and made it even more painful. He held it in. Until, one day, it was too much. He couldn't handle it.

He knew exactly what he had to do.


Tom was at the edge of a cliff. He couldn't see the bottom—it was that high. There were no tourists as well, making it the perfect spot for his work.

He took a deep breath but, just as he was about to jump off, he heard something unexpected. He heard Harry's voice.

"Stop," Harry's voice said. "Don't do it."

"H-Harry?" Tom asked in disbelief.

"Yes, it's me, you idiot."

"H-how?"

"When one gets close to the spiritual world, someone who loves them can talk to them for a brief period."

"Harry." There was a lump in his throat. "I'm so, so sorry. I—"

"I know you're sorry," Harry's voice said kindly. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

"Why did you go?" he cried, sitting down on the rocky surface.

"I didn't want to," Harry reminded him.

"You left because of me," Tom moaned, closing his eyes.

"No. I didn't leave because of you, but you are the reason I never came back."

"Harry, I'm so, so sorry," Tom said.

"Don't feel bad, Tom. I'm happier than ever. I'm…living with my mom, dad, Sirius and Remus again. I couldn't be happier. Though, there is one thing amiss. It is more of a selfish desire, anyway."

"What is it?" Tom asked, for he couldn't think of Harry being selfish in his wildest dreams.

"You. You, Tom Marvolo Riddle. My life isn't complete without you."

"You…love me?" Tom felt so many emotions that he couldn't decipher them—happiness, sadness, elation—all were present. He prayed that this wasn't a dream.

"Yes."

"I love you too. So much," Tom whispered.

"Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

"How could you even love me?" Tom wondered.

"I don't know. I just know I love you, despite your many flaws. However, I don't condone you killing Lavender. She didn't know, and she wasn't responsible. You never had such an intense reaction when I spent time with Ron and Hermione."

"They didn't kiss you."

"Still."

"Sorry," Tom mumbled, his eyes on the ground.

"What is done, is done. You can't change it, but you can make sure to not do the same thing again." Which was basically Harry's way of forgiving Tom.

"I can join you, can't I?" Tom asked after a few moments of comfortable silence. "I have nothing left here."

"No. You will not join me for at least another fifty years. This is my order! You'll live a long and happy life. Then you'll join me. I'll be waiting for you," Harry said sternly.

"But, you won't be there for me. You were the only true person who was there for me." Tom cried out.

"And I will always be there for you. Whether you can or cannot see. Rest assured, I will find some way to murder you if you dare to commit suicide." Harry's voice sounded harsh, and Tom knew he would carry out his threats.

"You promise you'll never leave me?" he asked, sounding like an insecure five-year-old.

"I promise."


A/N: I hope you all enjoyed it. Please read/review.