Tom Riddle

Tom Riddle and Lucretia Black finished their prefect round and returned to the Common Room together. Since curfew was long past, the room was empty of students; the only sounds coming from the snap and crackle of logs in the fireplace. Out of habit, both walked towards the seating area set around the stone fireplace. Lucretia getting as far as the first sofa, before having to stop and cover a huge yawn.

"What is it about Fridays?" she asked. "I've deducted more points and handed out more detentions than for the rest of the week. Even Saturdays aren't this bad."

"Better get used to it. Hogsmeade weekends are supposed to be a lot worse," Tom teased as he passed her to get to his favourite seat.

Lucretia closed her eyes and let out a groan.

Tom dropped into the leather wing chair, the butter-soft leather cushions moulding to his shape as he settled into it. The warmth from the fire was already making him feel drowsy and he stifled a yawn. How long would Lucretia stay? They'd little in common, and tonight he'd much rather be alone. There was a book in his pocket, calling to him – literally.

When Dolohov had handed the small book to him, Tom had thought it was not much to look at. The cover was faded and worn, its pages yellowed with age and splattered with brown stains that looked suspiciously like blood. The title, too, was nothing special, 'Spells For The Fearless'. It was only when he opened the book and spotted the author's name that he realised it was something out of the ordinary.

Herpo The Foul.

That same author had written another book called 'Secrets of The Darkest Arts'. Tom had found that one tucked away in a neglected part of the Restricted Section when he'd been searching for the darker books. He'd spent days greedily devouring it and, as he'd read, realised why the librarian had placed it in a less accessible area. This book was so powerful that only the bravest and the most fearless would dare to use them.

Tom didn't have the time to read 'Spells For The Fearless' before prefect duty,but when he'd flicked it and his heart had leapt when he'd come across a spell he was especially interested in – the Immortality Spell. He'd stopped, his eyes skimming the description for the ritual required to create a horcrux. This one was far more detailed! He immediately had theurge to fake sickness, skip patrol, and just read, but he knew he still had to be cautious. Living forever took a great deal of forward planning. Dumbledore was already suspicious, and if he got a whiff of Tom's plans, he'd have his wand snapped. Tom had regretfully slipped the book into his robe pocket, and its presence had distracted him all evening.

"You know that it's going to become much worse?" Lucretia said, breaking into his thoughts.

Tom tensed, thinking she was talking about the effects of the book. His eyes sought hers and saw that she wasn't looking at him but admiring the silver ring she wore. He felt relief – she was still talking of their prefect duties.

"What? Why?" he asked, wondering if he'd missed part of the conversation.

She looked up in surprise. "With the Headmaster's announcement that due to Dementor activity in the area, all Hogsmeade visits are cancelled until further notice."

Tom snorted. Hogsmeade visits didn't interest him. With no money of his own, it wasn't a treat to visit shops and see others throw their money around. It wasn't important. His fingers traced the shape of the book sensing the darkness of it. What was important was...

Lucretia was waiting for his reply.

"Perhaps Dippet should ask for Buffy's help in dealing with them," Tom replied without thinking. His fingers curled around the book's spine. It thrummed with a dark power whenever he touched it. It wants me to open it. It wants me to conduct the rituals inside because it knows that I'm a great Wizard, and far more powerful than any who've held it before.

The long silence alerted him to all not being well. He looked up again, to find her grey eyes on him. Had Lucretia sensed the book? The Blacks were rumoured to have a huge collection of cursed objects. Did she know what it was he was stroking?

A laughing voice in his head, sounding amazingly like Malfoy's, said, 'She probably thinks you're fondling yourself, Riddle.'

Tom stilled – horrified that she might think that. Mentally crushing the voice, he put his hands on the chair arms where she could see them.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, resisting tapping his fingers in irritation. His voice was laced with just the right amount of concern. Too much and he'd appear nosy, too little and she'd think him uninterested. He must play the kind boy, always interested in other people's problems – and weaknesses.

"Walburga likes her."

"Her?"

Lucretia swished her robe and crept closer to him. "Buffy. Walburga is intrigued by her..."

Tom felt a twinge of pity for Buffy, quickly stifled. How much easier would his life have been if a member of a high-ranking Pureblood family had taken him under their wing?

"Well, she did save Rigel," he replied smoothly. A beat, and then he had to ask. "Is Walburga still pushing for a match between Buffy and her brother?"

The thought of Buffy becoming a Black repelled him. That family would stifle all her individuality and everything that made her special would be gone. Better if she allied herself with Caradoc... yet that thought was just as repellent.

Lucretia drew herself up. "We don't discuss such personal matters with people outside of our family. You should know that, Riddle," she enunciated, every inch the haughty Pureblood.

"Ah, my apologies." Tom used his meekest, most contrite expression. Inwardly, he seethed. Did she think him stupid? The darkness of the book had nothing on the darkness brewing inside him.

She let out a little huff, mollified by his false apology – a sign that she wanted to talk further.

"I suppose it's common knowledge that our family are indebted to her," she begrudgingly admitted. "It's also no secret that a marriage between the two would nullify the debt. "

"Buffy won't marry Rigel." A bald statement without the polite dressing of a Slytherin and very unlike him.

Lucretia was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't register his gauche reply. "Walburga has persuaded my father to research her parentage further – on both sides of the Atlantic. After certain comments made at the dinner table, he believes the Lovegoods are hiding something. It could be as simple as Hank Summers being a Squib."

Squib parents from Pureblood lines would drastically change Buffy's blood status. She'd be far more palatable to the Blacks' taste and worthy of a place on their precious family tree. And he was being told all this for a reason, he realised. The Slytherins never gave away information unless they expected something in return. Everything had a price. He forced an agreeable expression onto his face.

"May I be of help?" he asked, and smiled encouragingly.

"I know Walburga asked you to keep Buffy safe from... teasing."

He nodded. By teasing, she meant bullying. Slytherin was a harsh House to be in without the right connections. By rights, Buffy should have a target on her back almost as large as the one the Mudblood Travers had. As a Half-blood brought up as an American Muggle, and with all the Lovegoods' unconventionality, it really should have been a recipe for disaster for her– except it wasn't. Was that due to his and Walburga's influence, or down to Buffy's own self-confidence? Her death-glares were already legendary.

"What exactly do you know about Buffy, Tom?" Lucretia asked. She'd reached the fire and turned to face him before asking the question. To her right, a stone snake decorating the fireplace column took exception to her presence and lunged for her. Lucretia, with years of experience, stepped neatly away and avoided its sharp fangs.

"Foul human," it hissed, malice reflected in its stone eye. "You think you're good enough for Ssslytherin? Disssgraccce! If I were loossse, I'd ssswallow you whole."

Tom ignored the snake and kept his eyes on Lucretia. Did she know Buffy had been sent to Wools orphanage after being attacked by Von Kendrick?

"Very little," he replied smoothly, refusing to speak of life in the orphanage to her. "Her past is something of a mystery, even to herself."

"You really believe that?" Lucretia asked. She picked up a magazine that had been left lying on the arm of a chair and began to idly flick through it.

Tom saw the gesture for what it was and his smile tightened. She is playing the question down, pretending it isn't important to her, but it is. So the Blacks doubted Buffy's amnesia? Why? Why think she'd fake memory loss?

"She's always claimed to have amnesia as long as I've known her." He'd known her for longer than anyone else at Hogwarts knew her. "I recently heard that she's being troubled by nightmares from her past."

Lucretia eyed him over the top of the magazine. That must be news to her.

"One of the professors let it slip." The professor was Slughorn, who could talk the back legs off a donkey. "And, despite Buffy not continuing with Divination classes, Professor Trelawney has agreed to provide her with counselling."

"Trelawney!" exclaimed Lucretia.

Tom hmmed in response. He also thought it an odd choice.

"These nightmares, do they stem from the Von Kendrick attack or another in her past?" Lucretia asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter,

"You believe she's been attacked before?" That was a surprise. Why think that? Tom's eyes met Lucretia's and saw she was hiding something.

It was a gamble. A gamble that he rarely indulged in these days, for those with magic tended to know when magic was being used to influence them. "Tell me. Tell me, what you know." Each word heavy with pressure from his magic.

He felt a tide of anger from her that drowned out all coherent thoughts. Did she know what he'd done? Did she sense Legilimency? Then from behind all the righteous anger, came the thought, 'How dare the orphan boy tell me what to do!'

"I don't like your tone, Riddle," Lucretia snapped, her eyes hard and cold. She jerked her head and tossed the magazine onto the chair in disgust.

He thought he'd lost her, until she said, "But I'll tell you anyway."

Tom tried hard not to gloat. He wasn't sure if he'd succeeded, so he covered it by rubbing his nose.

"Madam Bones ran a series of tests and discovered Buffy's magic had been bound as a baby. Effectively, someone attacked her magical core, switching her magic off."

That made him sit up straighter. Was that even possible? Everyone knew that by stifling your magic you could create an Obscurius. He regarded her from under drawn together brows. "How do you know this? I don't see Madam Bones as being an informer." He sincerely doubted the Hogwarts nurse would break patient confidentiality.

"Madam Bones flooed to the Leaky Cauldron on her night off and met an old friend, a retired nurse. After drinking a few too many Firewhiskeys she admitted to running a diagnostic and getting an unusual result on a student who'd battled Grindylows. She believed it signified the remains of a spell on the individual's magical core. It could only be Buffy, no one else has fought Water Demons."

Tom nodded. "Go on."

Lucretia drew a deep breath and went on. "She had the misfortune to be overheard by someone who makes a living by selling information to the highest bidder. He knew Rigel had almost drowned in the Black Lake... You remember the short piece in The Daily Prophet written by Bernard Leach? Well, the informer got in touch with father, who paid him handsomely for the information."

"Does the Ministry know?" Tom thought they should investigate. He didn't care for babies in general, but the thought of this being done to Buffy angered him. Whoever had done this was powerful and dangerous. Wasn't it the Ministry'esjob to stop magic from being wrongly used?

Lucretia gave an elegant shrug. "Doubtful. The man in question tends to avoid authority. As for Madam Bones... The Binding Spell had broken. Proving it had ever been placed on her in the first place would be difficult." She hesitated, seemingly confused about why she was telling him this.

He couldn't leave it at that. Buffy was at risk, and he had to have all the information. Tom sought Lucretia's eyes, his magic spilling over as he gave her another mental nudge. "Go on."

"What if Walburga was right all along?"

He said nothing.

"Look at the speed Buffy has picked up magic. Her magic lacks finesse, that's true, but she overpowers it rather than under powers it. She can already read ancient runes better than most seventh-years, and she's shown she can handle Dark creatures. Possibly in a crude way, but still decisively. For a girl brought up without magic you'd think she'd be more..." she waved her hands, frustrated and trying to explain the point, "...reticent. Dare I say, less Gryffindorish. Not that I think Buffy is a Gryffindor, there's something darker about her. Even my father sensed it during dinner together."

Tom knew exactly what she meant.

"Then there's the gift of a very expensive broomstick given publicly," continued Lucretia. "A statement, if ever there was one. To us..."

Tom cocked his head at the 'us'. The Blacks certainly had their claws into Buffy.

"...it looks as if her father has found out that he has a little Witch at Hogwarts and he's about to make a paternity claim."

Tom considered this. How would it affect him if Buffy turned out to be a Pureblood? Would she like him less? Since she barely seemed to notice him, he doubted it. Would he like her more because of it? But before knowing that answer, he'd need to assess his current feelings, and he wasn't ready to go down that route yet.

He changed the angle of the question. How would having a Pureblood father affect Buffy? Tom remembered their time in London together, and her disappointment when she found the letter from Hank Summers saying he wanted nothing more to do with her. From what he'd seen at the orphanage, it wasn't an unusual occurrence. Muggle fathers had a way of running out on their children. How would it affect Buffy if she discovered a Wizard had sired her?

That answer to that was easy: not at all. She wouldn't care about her new blood status or if his name opened doors for her. Buffy would only care that he was trustworthy and worth loving. However, her blood status would affect the behaviour of others towards her, especially – but not exclusively – amongst the Slytherins...

Since this was all conjecture, he backtracked. "Do you believe that Buffy's nightmares stem from this attack on her magical core? "

Lucretia nodded.

"And... I assume you think the person who performed the binding was in some way connected to her father's family? That is was done to hide her from her father and banish her from magical society?"

Lucretia nodded again.

Tom looked at his hands, pale against the chair arms. It made perfect sense, except... it didn't. The whole thing felt too neat. If this was anyone else they were discussing, he'd be inclined to agree. Buffy though... No, with her it would be neither that simple nor that complicated.

Tom didn't tell Lucretia his thoughts, and soon after she retired for the night. He sat, staring into the fire and didn't bother opening Herpo The Foul's book; he'd far too much to think over and would not have been able to concentrate.

…..

Tom stirred, gradually awaking and looking around sleepily. He'd fallen asleep in the Common Room! He hadn't slept there since... well, his first year. In those hellish first few weeks at Hogwarts, this place had been his sanctuary. A place to escape the nightly torturing sessions on him by Malfoy, Nott, and Avery. He'd wait, watch the prefects retire for the night and then creep in here and snatch a few hours of sleep on one of the sofas. His sleeping arrangements had only changed when his love of books led him to discover several volumes containing obscure but potent hexes...

The clock in the entranceway chimed the half-hour. Tom stretched, easing cramped muscles and was just about to rise when he heard the click of the door handle.

Someone was sneaking into the Common Room!

He slid back into the chair, allowing the high back and the winged sides to hide him. Who was sneaking around at this time? Was it a bullied first-year seeking sanctuary, a housemate who'd forgotten their work, or someone up to no good? The door opened and the draft of air brought with it a strong smell of strawberry bubble bath. His eyes widened. A girl? Where was she sneaking off to at this time?

His first thought was due to Malfoy's influence – a boy's bedroom. Tom smirked. It had been Malfoy who'd pointed out to him the flaw in the Founders warding. Whilst the girls' corridor was out of bounds to the boys, the girls had free entry into the boys'. Malfoy lived in hope that one of his girlfriends would steal in and jump into his bed during the night.

So... who was this girl about to sneak into the boy's dormitories? Was Malfoy's favourite dream finally coming true? Or was she about to make someone else's night? Tom peered around the edge of the chair and waited.

He heard the tap of a sole on stone, and a shadowy figure entered his line of view. The darkness concealed her features, but she was small, slender, and dressed in... boy's clothing!

Buffy!

His face contorted. If she dared to put one foot inside the boy's corridor, he swore he'd cast a full body bind on her and he'd leave her like that until morning!

The serpents on the fireplace sensed the newcomer and came to life. They hissed and spat in aggravation. "Mudblood prey. Feel our fangs, feel our hate. Kill, kill, kill."

Buffy stopped, staring over at the writhing snakes. Tom remained motionless, hoping the shadows masked him. She wasn't looking in his direction and if he didn't move she probably wouldn't notice him. What was she up to?

Deciding the hissing snakes were no threat, Buffy moved away. To Tom's relief, she didn't make a bee-line for the boy's dormitory, but crossed the room to the exit. He heard the rumble of stones opening and closing. Tom forced himself to remain where he was, silently counting to ten before throwing himself out of his chair and darting up the steps behind her.

Out in the corridor, he paused. At this time of night, there were only a few lamps left burning, and the dungeon passageways were full of deep shadows. Tom stayed by the wall, looking from left to right and back again. There was no sign of Buffy. Which way had she gone?

To the right, the corridor took you deeper into the dungeons. Although there were a few short-cuts to the upper levels – if you knew where to look – it mainly led to disused classrooms and ancient storage areas. To his left lay the main corridor, the Potions classrooms and the steps that took you to the upper floors. Was she seeking a disused classroom to perform dark and illegal magic? Since Buffy wasn't him, he supposed not. She was probably heading for the main part of the castle. Why? Was she meeting someone from another House? Caradoc?

Drawing his wand, he cast a self-taught Disillusionment Charm over himself and went after her.

It took a good few turns before he spotted her, but once he knew her general whereabouts he dropped back and allowed the distance between them to grow. Buffy was setting a fast pace, having no problem finding her way along the corridors, never hesitating or taking a wrong turning. How in Merlin's name did she do that? Buffy had only been at Hogwarts a few weeks, and yet she walked the corridors with the confidence of a long-serving teacher.

Once or twice she stopped, looking back the way she'd come. Had she heard or glimpsed him? Luckily, he was always ready for her and each time she stopped, he'd slide behind a statue or drop into a doorway so that she couldn't see him. He knew it was no use relying solely on the Disillusionment Charm, even without her Spectrespecs Buffy had an unusual ability to see through it.

When she reached the top of the steps, she surprised him by not going straight on, veering off into a side corridor. The Hufflepuff Common Room lay along here somewhere. Was she meeting Roz Moody? Since more lamps burned in this section, Tom stepped behind a statue of an overweight witch holding a cornucopia and waited.

After a few moments, he heard giggling. Tom frowned, knowing it wasn't Buffy or Roz. Who else was up there? And then he remembered. He'd come here with Slughorn, and the professor had tickled the pear to gain admittance to the kitchens.

Tom bit his cheek. He'd disliked the kitchens. The busy elves, the heat from the fires, and the rattling of plates as they prepared dinner reminded him of the orphanage. Wools was somewhere he'd rather forget. To take his mind off those gloomy thoughts, Tom peered around the Witch's stone stomach to see what Buffy was doing.

She was climbing through the opening behind the painting. If she was hungry, why dress in boy's clothes to visit the kitchen?

Tom leaned his back against the wall, twirling the yew wand in his hand while deciding how to proceed. He doubted that the kitchen was her final destination. Since the kitchen had no alternate entrance, she'd need to pass him on the way out. He grinned, imagining her face when he stepped out to challenge her.

But what if she stayed in the kitchen for any length of time? He could be found waiting here by a teacher or the Bloody Baron, who got annoyed at finding people in the corridors. He couldn't risk it. Tom pushed himself off the wall, marched down to the painting, tickled the pear, and waited.

"Good evening, young sir," said the young female House-elf who greeted him warmly when he stepped into the bright kitchen. "Tiptoes will be very pleased to serve all manner of food to you."

Tom's eyes darted around the room, seeking Buffy and not finding her. Disappointed, his gaze dropped to the small creature hovering in front of him. Like the others of its kind he'd seen in the past, it wore a shapeless garment made from an old rag and tied around its waist with a string. He sniffed cautiously, and got a whiff of old chip fat, last night's steak pie, boiled cabbage, and furniture polish. He shuddered, not bothering to hide his disgust. Did these things ever wash? While its hands looked clean enough, the dirt on its bare feet told a different tale.

Seeing his obvious revulsion, the elf's body sagged, and the helpful smile died.

"Where's the girl who came in here?" he snarled, tapping his wand against his palm to intimidate it. "Is she hiding? Tell me, where has she gone?"

The elf pulled at its huge ears nervously. "Tiptoes doesn't know. Buffy left by that door." With a hand that shook, it pointed to a narrow doorway in the opposite wall.

He scowled. Was the creature trying to trick him? "Isn't that the laundry room?"

Tiptoes peeked over the top of her ears and nodded.

"She's hiding in the laundry room?"

"Tiptoes only knows the kind girl thanked Tiptoes for the beef sandwich she'd sent up earlier and left." It stopped, clapping its hands over its mouth, hopping from foot to foot, and pulling its ears. "Tiptoes is a bad, bad, bad elf. Tiptoes does not deserve a good place like Hogwarts. Tiptoes tells lies and should be punished. Should she punish herself, master? Or should she wait for The Great Headmaster to arrive?"

"I don't care what you do," said Tom, who only wanted to find Buffy. What did the elf mean by 'left'? Was Buffy in the laundry room or not?

Intent on finding out, he started for the door.

"Bad, bad Tiptoes," yelled the elf. It ran past him, colliding with the edge of the table and hitting its head. It fell into a heap in front of him and Tom had to stop to avoid stepping on it.

"Bad! Bad! Bad!" the elf cried. It jumped up, seized a metal tray from the table and began to hit itself over the head. "Bad lying elf!" BANG! "Must be punished!" BANG! "Must be given pain." BANG!

Tom grabbed the creature's raised arm and wrestled the tray from its grasp. Tossing the tray to one side, he pulled the struggling elf away from the table and into a clear space.

"Are you mad?!" He gave the creature a little shake. "What's wrong with you?"

The elf began sobbing. "I'm a bad, bad elf."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Why?"

It let out a loud sob. "The kind miss, the lovely miss, asked Tiptoes ever so nicely to open the outside door. Tiptoes knows the outside door must always be kept locked at night. It is dangerous."

There was a door to outside from in there?

"Miss Buffy is such a kind girl. Buffy gave Tiptoes a chocolate frog when she served her in the infirmary. No one has ever given Tiptoes chocolate before." The creature sobbed all the harder. "Tiptoes let her out. Then Tiptoes lied when master asked where she was. Buffy will die now because Tiptoes killed her." It lifted the hem of its make-shift dress, blew its large nose noisily, and then let out a long keening wail.

Frustrated, Tom groaned. While he had to admire the way Buffy had persuaded a House-elves to lie for her, he was the one dealing with its guilt. While the only thing he wanted to do was follow Buffy, he couldn't leave the hysterical elf behind to shout the place down. Someone was bound to hear and come to investigate.

Modifying his expression, he used his best soothing voice to calm it. "Tiptoes, you're a good House-elf and you haven't done anything wrong. Buffy asked you to let her out and you obeyed. You also told me the truth. I suggest that you go back to your bed in your..." He looked about him, wondering where House-elves slept.

"In the cupboard." Tiptoes hiccuped and pointed towards a cupboard. The door hung open, and Tom could see a nasty pile of rags inside it.

"Yes, you go back to your cupboard and let me deal with Buffy."

The change in the elf was close to miraculous. Her tears stopped and she began to prance around him. "Thank you, thank you. O' thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Tom stepped back. The elf was completely bonkers, there was no telling what it might do next. He was proved right when, without any warning, Tiptoes flung herself onto his leg. She hung there, clutching at his trousers and rubbing a wet cheek into the fabric. He braced himself, ready to kick it off.

"The young master is so sweet and kind to Tiptoes."

Tom gritted his teeth and forced himself to accept the leg hugging. This was Buffy's fault. If she hadn't led him down here, he wouldn't be in this embarrassing position.He should be relaxing in the Common Room, reading up on the Immortality Ritual and planning his horcrux. A Dark Lord shouldn't be in the kitchen with an elf hanging off his trousers and... Great Salazar! It was kissing his kneecap!

What if the Knights saw him? They'd say he'd gone soft!

He leaned over and began extracting the fabric from the creature's fingers. "You need. To let. Me. Go."

With drooping ears, the creature dropped from his leg and scuttled back. Tom quickly strode to the laundry room door before it changed its mind and clung to his leg again.

The laundry room was as empty as he'd expected. A single overhead lantern was enough to light up the steam rising from wooden vats and illuminate row upon row of ghostly white shirts. Tom gave the room a cursory once-over. There was a small door that he'd noticed on his last time he was here, and assumed was a store cupboard. It must lead outside. He pushed on the handle, swinging it open to reveal a black space beyond.

Merlin! How had Buffy discovered this? Had someone shown her?

"Lumos." Light appeared at the tip of his wand. Dipping his head, he ducked under the door frame and into the low passageway. He followed the passage for a short while and eventually reached the doorway set into the castle wall. He shone his wand up and down, examining the door. There were a series of bolts drawn back and the door was on the latch. This must be the door that the elf was supposed to keep closed.

Whispering, "Nox," he pulled open the door and stepped into the night.

Wind hit his face, bringing with it the scent of Scot's pine, mist, and heather. Above his head, a waxing gibbous moon hung low in the sky, casting its silvery light upon the still waters of the Black Lake and the trees in the Forbidden Forest.

Tom waited, eyes constantly scanning the hillside around him, hoping to spot Buffy moving along one of the many pathways. After a few minutes, he realised that it was hopeless. The elf had delayed him for too long with her antics, and Buffy had long gone. He had two options; he could either wake Professor Slughorn and a search party would be sent out, or he could retreat to the Common Room and wait for her to return.

Thanks to all who left comments on who left the book amongst Buffy's things. It will be revealed. First though she needs to get her slayer on... She is going to meet someone and someone else will speak to her on her return.

Did you like Tom in this one? He's tricky to write. Very much a difficult boy but one who has been moulded by his upbringing and one who isn't completely corrupted by having his soul split. Buffy, although she doesn't know it, is influencing his decisions and choices.