Tom paced the common room in mounting fury. What was he going to do? That girl knew his secret; it was only a matter of time before she reported him to Dippet, or worse, Dumbledore. From there, expulsion or even imprisonment in Azkaban was only a few steps away. Slytherin's portrait leered at him, and Tom glared back in disgust. He was one of the most brilliant students at Hogwarts, and yet he could not think of a way to keep his secret safe.
The clock struck two and he stalked off to bed, angry at his failure, angry at the knowledge that he would be exhausted the next day.
As he drew the emerald drapes around his bed, a memory floated, unbidden to the surface of his mind, a memory from that momentous day that he found that he was a wizard.
"I can make bad things happen to people that annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to.
His dreams were full of the hissing of snakes.