III. The Kill
Lucius was a little late for his meeting with Riddle the next day. His arse hurt badly and he had tried his best all day to act like it didn't kill him to sit down. The healing salve had helped, but he could see the angry red welts in the mirror and they were nowhere close to fading. The events of the previous day had gotten round to the younger Slytherins, and they mocked him more than ever, calling him a slut and a whore. The older Slytherins, who had seen him come out of Riddle's room, eyed him curiously, not quite so openly hostile. He had poured over his spellbooks all day, brushing up on the darkest and most powerful spells he knew, hoping one of them would impress Riddle. Lucius was of a long noble line, and had begun learning magic young. He was one of the brightest of the fourth-years, and had been a certain candidate for prefect the next year, had it not been for his social disgrace. A prefect had to be able to lead.
He walked into the old defence classroom to find not only Riddle, but Ewan McCartney, lying at his feet in a full body bind. Lucius struggled not to gape.
"He's all yours, Lucius," said Riddle.
Without much thought, Lucius threw out a Bat-Bogey Hex.
"That's cute," Riddle said calmly as bats began to climb out of McCartney's nostrils, each larger than the other. "Try some real Dark Arts."
Lucius used a Bone Shattering Curse, and took satisfaction in the way McCartney's chest caved in.
"Good," said Riddle. "But what spells do you know that can kill?"
Lucius paused, his eyes widening. "You want me to kill him?"
"You asked me for revenge."
"We'll get expelled."
"That won't happen."
Lucius stared at Riddle, his wand still pointed at McCartney.
"If I kill him, we won't get expelled?"
"I thought you admired me, Lucius. Have you no faith in me?"
"I do, my lord, I do. But…even if no one knows you brought him here, even if we dispose of him, what if he becomes a ghost? High concentration of magical power, violent unhappy death, it's the perfect recipe."
"A valid question. But certain forms of the Dark Arts provide a clause that prevents the victim from coming back to haunt you. Do you know any curses with this property?"
Lucius searched his mind. "No, my lord."
"The Transmorgrifian Torture," said Riddle. Taking a quill out of his pocket, he transfigured it into a porcupine. "Watch carefully. Tardus autem tristitia mortem."
The porcupine began to jerk, much like under a Cruciatus Curse.
"The wand movement is not difficult, neither is the incantion, for someone who has studied latin well. Your intent is vital. Channel your hatred. Wish upon your victim a torturous death. In Dark Arts, intent is always the most important factor, though, of course, any mistake can be dangerous."
"What is happening to it?"
"Its internal organs are undergoing corrupting changes. The influence spreads slowly, stiffening and blackening everywhere it touches, until it turns into a burnt corpse."
As Riddle spoke, the blackness began to spread alone the porcupine's underbelly. Within a minute, it became fully blackened, and turned back into a quill, before dissolving into ash.
"Evanesco. Now, you try it."
"Tardus autem tristitia mortem," incanted Lucius, drawing the tip of his wand in a ripple over McCartney's body.
A blast of deep blue hit McCartney, and black smoke rose from his body.
"A good start. Your wand is slightly off." Riddle stepped behind Lucius and took his wand hand, tracing the wand movement. "Try again. Remember how much you loathe him."
Tardus autem tristitia mortem," incanted Lucius again.
It took five tries for Lucius to get it mostly right, with Riddle standing just behind him, heat and power radiating from his body. Lucius was desperate to please Riddle, absolutely despised McCartney, and with Riddle's calm, clinical instructions, it was easy to see McCartney as no more than a porcupine. But when his correct curse hit, and McCartney's eyeballs began to blacken and shrivel, Lucius began to be afraid, that he was killing a man.
"Frightened?" Said Riddle, wrapping his arms around Lucius' waist. "It is understandable to be frightened about your first kill. Like losing your virginity, something changes."
"I'm not afraid to kill him," Lucius lied. "I just don't want to be caught."
"He disappeared without a trace," said Riddle, his voice rich and pleasant. "No one knows where he was. He seemed agitated today, and told his friends he was going for a walk on the grounds. He never came back. Maybe he foolishly wandered off into the forest. You and I, of course, were in the Slytherin Dungeons, all our housemates will attest. Such a shame. So young."
Lucius trembled in his arms. "Have you killed before, my lord?"
"Yes," said Riddle, as lightly as if Lucius was enquiring after the weather. "Also for revenge."
"Will you kill me if I cross you?"
"It depends on how deeply you displease me. But you know not to do that, hm?"
"Yes. Thank you, my lord. For this."
"Mm. It appears your curse was not quite on point. He should be dead by now. At the rate the blackness is spreading, it will take an hour, and I don't want to be here so long. Put him out of his misery, Lucius."
"My lord?"
"Use the Killing Curse. It is easy, even if you have never tried it before. Efficient. Quick."
"Avada kedavra." The life flew from McCartney's broken body before his eyes.
"You are quite talented, little Lucius. Why did I never notice you before? You take to dark magic with a natural affinity. Maybe you do have more to offer me than a lovely arse."
Lucius whimpered as Riddle squeezed a sore buttock.
"Go back to Slytherin. I will dispose of it."
"Should I…tell the others to cover for us?"
Riddle laughed, putting a disillusionment charm over the corpse, and another over Lucius. "Presumptuous, Malfoy. Who would listen to you? Go to your room and stay quiet."
Lucius hurried through the corridors of Hogwarts, avoiding a few close brushes with passing students. It was close to curfew, and there were few people still out of their dorms. When got to the Slytherin common room, Riddle's little group was sitting in the best seats around the fire, a few groups of younger students scattered around. Evan Rosier looked up as the portrait hole opened to admit, apparently nobody. He drew his wand.
"Show yourself."
Lucius tapped himself on the head and rippled back into focus. Rosier narrowed his eyes.
"What are you doing, Malfoy?"
Lucius smirked, suddenly emboldened by the knowledge of what he had just done. How could any of the Slytherins frighten him anymore now that he had killed a man?
"Forgive me, Rosier. Not at liberty to tell."
He swept back to his dorm, stares following him all the way.
The next morning, news of Ewan McCartney's disappearance spread. Students were not too concerned, but the professors had a duty to take it seriously. As someone with an obvious incentive, Lucius was called to the Headmaster's Office, along with the Head Boy and Girl, some of McCartney's friends, and all the prefects.
"Mr. McCartney told his friends yesterday evening around 8 o'clock that he was feeling like a late night walk, alone," said Dippet. "Mr. McCartney never returned from his walk, and he has not been found within the Hogwarts Castle or on the grounds. If any of you saw him last night, or have any information where he went, this might help us to find him. Anyone?"
Lucius saw in his mind's eye, vividly, McCartney's half-blackened corpse. He glanced at Riddle, standing next to the Head Girl. Dippet caught the motion.
"Mr. Malfoy. Would you have any idea?"
"No, sir!" Lucius let just a hint of vindictive pleasure creep into his tone, knowing that as a Slytherin himself, Dippet expected it. It wouldn't do to act the innocent lamb when his grievance with McCartney was widely known. "McCartney and I have not spoken in over a week. I have been…preoccupied."
Lucius looked down, biting his lip. Slytherins didn't tell, but he was quite sure the headmaster had a perfectly good idea of how he had been treated, sometimes in full view of the teachers. Dippet looked slightly uncomfortable.
"I see. Mr. Riddle, can you…confirm this?"
"I understand that Malfoy has been having some problems with the other students lately. As Head Boy, I have tried to remind my fellow Slytherins of the unity that should be afforded to a housemate. Just last night I had to give some Slytherins a talk. I'm sure the situation will improve, soon."
"Excellent, excellent, Mr. Riddle. Well, this has been an unfortunate turn of events…ah, anybody else? Anyone?"
Lucius left the Headmaster's Office confident both that he was not suspected and that there were no leads concerning McCartney's whereabouts. He wondered what Riddle had done with him. He wondered if he was allowed to ask. But Riddle didn't look his way any time during the informal interrogation, and he hurried back to the Charms class he had been pulled out of.
In the evening, after he got back from studying alone in the library, which he had taken to doing to avoid his housemates who preferred the common room, he found Riddle and his group in front of the fireplace yet again, this time the full group. Riddle sat in the middle, Rosier on his right, Selwyn on his left, surrounded by Yaxley, Macnair, Avery, Rookwood, Dolohov and Lestrange. They all looked up as he walked in and Lucius froze for a moment before he forced himself to relax and nodded cordially to the most powerful Slytherins in the House.
"Come, Malfoy," Riddle called him.
Lucius approached them, glancing around at the faces of Riddle's followers. Macnair and Yaxley showed open contempt. Avery's gaze seemed lecherous. The others all seemed measured, as they assessed him with their eyes. Lucius wondered if Riddle had told them.
"We've been hearing about you an awful lot, Malfoy," said Selwyn.
"Good things, I hope," Lucius said dryly.
"Seen quite a lot of you too," Avery added pointedly.
"No actually, Avery, you haven't."
"So how did you do it?" Asked Rosier, fixing Lucius with gleaming blue eyes.
Lucius could not help looking at Riddle. Rosier caught the motion and smirked. Lucius cursed himself internally.
"What are you referring to, Rosier?" He pretended.
"Yes, Rosier, what are you referring to," Macnair mocked. "Are you saying that this little faggot could kill and dispose of? I'd bet you-"
"Oh Macnair," Riddle said softly, "Is that nosebleed a little better now? A shame Madam Hudgins couldn't quite fix it."
Macnair flushed angrily as the others laughed.
"You all are being quite rude to my new friend," Riddle continued. "A Malfoy of a long noble line, a wizard whose enemies disappear mysteriously, and a boy whose cock-sucking skills are frankly unrivaled."
Riddle smiled as the entire group burst into laughter. Lucius tried not to let it get to him. Riddle's softly enunciated insults was apparently something all of his closest had to deal with. Riddle pulled out one of the cushions from the armchair he was sitting on, and placed it at his feet.
"I hope it's not your bedtime yet, Malfoy. Sit with us."
The laughter did not stop. Lucius glanced around, but all the other armchairs were far from Riddle's little circle, and even then, it was too close-packed to add another without moving all the others. Lucius set down his book bag, and sat down cross-legged on the cushion as though it were not an insult.
"Your new friend sure is cute, my lord," said Yaxley, smirking.
Riddle did not defend him this time, but rather, began running his fingers through Lucius' hair. Lucius didn't protest. Grudging and unfriendly though many of them still were, none had objected to Riddle letting him into their group. As the others began talking of homework and Quidditch, Lucius leaned against Riddle's leg and pulled out his Potions book. Memorizing recipes was a brainless enough task to do among the wolves.
As he began, quite distracted, half listening to Riddle and Rosier's conversation on Arithmancy, Riddle tugged on his hair and Lucius looked up.
"You asked to sit with me. Show us you deserve to be here," he said softly.
Lucius blinked, his gaze dropping to Riddle's crotch. Riddle sneered.
"Come on. I thought you didn't want to be just a whore."
Lucius blushed and looked down, trying to figure out what Riddle wanted him to do.
"Hello? Would you rather tell me the square root of magna pi or would you rather whisper sweet nothings to your little pet?" He heard Rosier say.
"It's epsilon ka trininum," Lucius said at once.
Rosier stared. "Did you just tell him that so he seems like a genius and justifies your decision to legitimise your little fuck-toy?"
"Are you listening to yourself?" Riddle replied.
"Can I look at your equation?" Lucius asked.
Rosier handed him the roll of parchment in his hand. Lucius looked through it carefully.
"Here. You made a miscalculation here. Ionizing the coefficient of alpha-omega doesn't give you a magical reboost in this situation, because the delta coefficient inhibits the production of electrons. So without the reboost, you would get three hundred and twelve times the trininum, putting it under the tipping point of three hundred and fifteen, therefore, epsilon ka trininum."
Rosier took the parchment back and looked at it. "That's right. How would you know that? You haven't even taken O.W.L.s."
"I have, actually. I sat the Arithmancy O.W.L. in third year. I'm actually in your Advanced Arithmancy class, but because I worked through the sixth year curriculum in two months, Professor Vance told me to just work through the book and meet with her once a week to discuss any issues."
Rosier stared at him like he'd grown another head.
"And you never thought you should mention this, before."
"It would have been a little odd to mention in our single…previous…conversation."
Rosier's lip twitched. "Then perhaps we should have had other previous conversations."
"I had no idea that being good with numbers impressed you so much, Rosier, or I certainly would have brought it to your attention."
Rosier rolled his eyes. "You knew that we value talent. We value power. We worship Riddle for being the most talented wizard of the century. Avery is Quidditch Captain and the best chaser we've had for years. Macnair and Yaxley may not be fast with spellwork, but they are well on the way to becoming Potions Masters. Selwyn has the divination gift. Rookwood is an excellent orator. Dolohov and Lestrange have an affinity for the Dark Arts. None of us sit here just because we're loud and pureblooded. We have earned the right to be the elite."
Lucius looked around at each boy as Rosier mentioned them. Though all of Slytherin House knew them by name and prestige, they rarely bothered to talk to the younger students besides keeping them in line. He had not known of these talents that they apparently had, but of course Riddle must have a reason for choosing them to be his inner circle. He understood now why Riddle had said to show that he deserved to be here. Riddle must have pulled his records.
"Sure, Rosier, of course. I knew that you were powerful wizards. Unfortunately, you never conducted interviews."
"Did you expect us to come knocking on your door, begging to be your friend?" Rosier sneered. "We assumed the gifted would dare to come to us. Challenge us. Why did it take being outed as a faggot for Riddle to notice you? Pardon me, why did it take sticking his cock down your throat for Riddle to see you?"
Lucius flushed and glanced at Riddle, but he was deep in conversation with Selwyn and Avery. Rosier was expecting an answer.
"Well, Malfoy? Riddle may not have told me much, but he mentioned a certain curse that you might have learned in about thirty minutes. I assumed he was lying for you, I don't know, maybe getting your dick sucked really hard has the effect of seeing visions. If you're so fucking talented, why have we not heard of you before?"
"I…I didn't realise, that I was this fucking talented."
"You're a pureblood. Did daddy not give you enough love as a child?"
"Perhaps I'm just naturally modest," Lucius said dryly.
"Please, Malfoy. Has Riddle not spoken to you of our vision? His vision, to be more exact?"
"No," Lucius said, feeling out of the loop.
"You've started calling him your lord. Do you know why we call him that?"
"…No."
"Riddle!" Rosier snapped. "What have you spent all your time with Malfoy doing? Fucking his brains out inch by inch?"
Riddle, interrupted with his conversation, gave them a sweeping glance. His eyes paused on Lucius, and Lucius thought he saw a little approval.
"Jealous, Rosier?" Riddle replied. "I suppose we could try it, although I'm not sure you'd be quite as pretty a girl."
Rosier snarled and Riddle turned away with a smirk.
"Of course. I suppose you're my responsibility now. He would prefer to just have the good sex."
"What are you talking about?" Lucius said, sitting up, annoyed at all that he apparently didn't know.
Rosier set down his parchment with a long suffering look.
"Have you ever felt that you are being held back by the ignorant? Isolated for being different? Attacked, perhaps, for some superficial quality that makes a difference only to the indoctrinated?" Rosier asked with a pointed look, as if the answer was obvious.
"Are we talking about that 'superficial quality' that you all have been giving me shit for?"
"Certainly, Malfoy. But not that in particular. Other qualities. Blood status, perhaps. Age. Distinctions that people force upon you to inhibit you from reaching your full potential."
"Are you saying that you don't believe in those things?" Lucius said. "That's what you have preached to us all through my years as a Slytherin."
"We take advantage of those things, Malfoy, a concept that should not be too unfamiliar." Said Rosier. "We see it as self-evident that we, the gifted, the elite, should have a natural place in this world at the top of the social order. We should be respected for our talents and given the full right to develop, the results of which would be astounding. Imagine a world where every wizard or witch in positions of power were smart. We wish it was that way now, but it could not be further from the truth. We are ruled by imbeciles, boxed in by rules and distinctions that make no logical sense. Things need to change, but unfortunately, the world is filled with imbeciles, and then there are people like you. Talented, but misguided, with no idea what they can do, squandering their talent in anonymity. That is why we need Tom Riddle. He is our lord. He is so incredible he will be able to lead us to infiltrate the existing order and flip it to our interests. And we'll do it so smoothly that the dumb plebs will barely notice what has happened. They are used to being ruled. Rather it be some power-hungry dumbass, it should be us, because we will guide them towards the greater good, show them the bigger picture— I could go on. But let's make sure you're keeping up thus far."
"I understand," said Lucius slowly. "That's why you call him your lord. You think he's the hero of the…smart?"
"I prefer erudite," said Rosier. "But we value all types of talents. We are believers in a type of elitism, I suppose, but one that is rooted in truth."
"I had no idea Slytherins were so idealistic. What you say sounds like more of a Ravenclaw dream."
"Everyone is idealistic, it's just that some ideas are stupid. We're much like Ravenclaws, except we'll actually get things done."
"It has been enlightening to speak to you, Rosier," Lucius said, a lot more polite than he had been previously.
"It would be enlightening to speak to Riddle too, if he actually stopped fucking you long enough to do that."
"Haven't you quite fulfilled your quota for sex jokes today, Rosier?" Said Riddle.
Lucius looked up, having almost forgotten he was there, so engrossed was he in Rosier's monologue.
"I don't know, Riddle, does it qualify as a joke if it's true?"
"That makes it a less funny joke."
"Not true. It makes it a hysterical truth."
"It's getting late, Rosier. All the little ones have gone off to bed. How about you resume your lecture tomorrow?"
"How about you continue my lecture tonight?" Rosier said darkly. "You know, rather than-"
"Silencio." Said Riddle.
Lucius tried to hold back a snicker. Rosier glared at him, and headed to his dorm, as did the others. Riddle didn't move, though, and so neither did Lucius. It was indeed getting late, and the common room was empty but for the two of them.
"Did you like Rosier?" Asked Riddle after a while.
"Yes, my lord." It felt a little strange to Lucius, calling him that, after just learning that it was more than a sign of reverence or subservience but an ideology that Lucius had never heard of before today.
"Did you like what he said?"
"I…maybe. I don't know."
"You're quite smart, Lucius. You have proved that. But it seems that you have never thought for yourself for a moment in your life."
Lucius looked up at him, having no idea how he had gotten to this point.
"You might be right, my lord."
Riddle stroked his cheek.
"You should try it. Tonight, start by thinking if you really want to call me your lord."
Brushing his thumb over Lucius' lip, Riddle stood up, and headed for his room.
