Kolybel'naya
Chapter 21: Die Walküre
"Why can't you listen to me for at least once! ?"
"Because you're my stupid subconscious!"
Tom hated the way his voice reverberated inside that place. Actually, Tom hated that place as a whole. He hated its fine lighting, its pretty furniture, its dream-like atmosphere and, most of all, he hated the only person aside from himself that was always there. Actually, the man was the main reason he hated that place. Wasn't it for his father – or the copy of his father that his mind insisted in creating and putting into his dreams -, Riddle could almost like the place: he liked its organization and quietness, after all.
"I am not!"
"That's even worse!" said Tom, laughing out loud as he saw the Muggle's face tense up with annoyance. "If you're not my subconscious, then you're a filthy Muggle. Believe me, it's better for you to be part of my mind, it's easier for me to tolerate you. Otherwise I would have killed you by now…"
The man's brows furrowed and he looked rather helpless there. Riddle had to restrain himself from laughing again.
"You can't kill someone twice," the Muggle whispered, his voice finally losing its former stronger tone.
"Try me. The dream is mine, I can kill off whatever I want in it," he said, turning around and walking up to the fireplace, observing the photographs on the top of it. "I can't kill them twice, but I surely can kill you once again." He pointed to a picture of a young bride and groom before raising his eyes in time to see the man's jaw clenching. "You probably should learn to hide your weakness better, father. I can assure you I was not planning on killing them until you started to panic when you saw I had a wand. Then, it was way too tempting not to harm them in order to harm you."
"Tom, please." The man took a step closer to him, but still seemed to have something holding him back. Fear, most likely. "I'm not asking much. Just don't go to Hogsmead… It's not a if you went there too often anyway, so, please, don't go there."
"For someone who left his child rotting in an filthy orphanage for so many years, yes, you are asking much." Tom shrugged and then sighed almost dramatically. "Oh, please, please, please… You do like to beg, don't you? Beg for me not to hurt your parents, beg for me not to kill you, beg for me not to go to Hogsmead. I'm getting tired of this already. Let me ask you a favour," said Tom, clicking his tongue. "Leave me alone. I already asked you this, but you didn't seem to comprehend. Go back to that dark corner of my mind where you belong to and leave me alone."
"Tom…"
The boy sighed. He was getting tired of all the 'Toms' and 'pleases' and the sad looks from the Muggle. It was incredibly annoying and he was tempted to pull his wand and cast a Cruciatus curse on the other just to see if that would stop all that whining and watery eyes.
"I'm really tired of you and all your begging, Mr. Riddle," said Tom, putting his hand in his pocket and pulling out his wand. A smile tugged on his lips as he saw the man's face tense up as soon as he saw it. "I wonder if repeating what I did back in 1943 will make my subconscious understand I don't want you wandering around in my dreams." He twirled the wand in his fingers. "Part of my dream or not, your reaction is exactly the same from what I remember. You know you should be afraid of this. That's good, it shows me you're not as ignorant as I thought you would be. You know you're to fear magic, you know you're below it." Tom looked at the other from head to toes. The Muggle was ready to take a step back; his hands were trembling and it looked as if he was about to burst into tears. Well, that wouldn't be a surprise. "Don't worry, you're just a dream." The boy smiled, raising his wand and pointing it at the other. "Cruci-"
"Tom! For the Goddess' sake, open that door!"
Tom blinked and, suddenly, he was not in the Riddle house anymore. He recognized his room in the Heads Dorm, just how the recognized the voice that was shouting outside the door. Abraxas. Abraxas banging on his door as if he wanted to take it down. Groaning, the wizard pushed himself up, getting out of bed just as he felt a shiver running down his spine. Shivering, he went up to the door, opening it just to find Malfoy standing outside, just how the imagined.
"What?"
"I thought you had died in your sleep," said Abraxas, entering the room without even asking his permission. "I've been knocking for almost fifteen minutes."
"And how did you enter here?" mumbled Tom, scratching the back of his neck.
"I annoyed the portrait," he said, matter-of-factly. "Half an hour convincing him to allow me to enter. He gave up on trying to keep me out when I asked him if Ivan the Terrible was a good kisser."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Remember Merrythought told us the wizard on the portrait guarding the Heads Dorm was Ivan's lover? I was curious and asked him. He didn't like it and decided he didn't want to hear me speaking anymore."
Riddle sighed, forcing himself not to laugh. The portrait was already moody, but now, with Abraxas' help, it would become insufferable.
"And what's the reason for your urge to get in here?" asked Tom, sitting down on the edge of his bed while he watched as Malfoy walked around the room.
"Hogsmead weekend, my dear friend," said Abraxas, smiling. "And you'll be coming with us today. Drop the studies for a few hours and let's drink a Butterbeer. You'll have enough time to study during the holidays, but today is the last Hogsmead weekend before the break, so…"
Riddle grunted, shaking his head. Although he found Hogsmead a really interesting place, Tom didn't like to visit the village, mostly because he was always the one who had to keep himself from buying anything when the rest of his friends was stuffing their pockets with Honeyduke's candies or drinking three or more cups of Butterbeer. He could afford a candy or another, a cup of Butterbeer, but he preferred to save his money to buy a few books, parchment, quills and ink on Tomes & Scrolls.
"I have to finish Dumbledore's essay."
"Dumbledore's essay can wait until the evening," said the other Slytherin. "Your body, though, can't wait for a break. I'm serious, Tom, you need to drop these things for a little while. Since the beginning of the term you've never left Hogwarts and your weekends are reduced to staying in here and study. You even skipped the first two meetings of the Slug Club! You never skip the Slug Club."
"We've the NEWTs this year, Abraxas. Slughorn understands."
"As if you needed to spend so much time studying to get a good grade," mumbled Abraxas.
"I prefer to guarantee a good grade rather than whine after a bad one," said Riddle, looking at his housemate, who was now looking through the few books he had on his bookshelf. There were a few Muggle books there, but for all that Malfoy was concerned, Tom just enjoyed Muggle literature and had a thing for old stuff. As he watched Abraxas run his fingers along the spine of a book, reading its title, the boy frowned, his latest dream coming back to his mind. The Muggle had told him not to go to Hogsmead – no, his silly subconscious told him not to go there – and he was doing exactly what the other wanted. Tom closed his fingers, feeling his nails dig into the skin of his palm, before looking away from Abraxas. "But maybe you're right. I may need a few hours away from Transfiguration."
"What?" The blond boy turned around to look at him with widened eyes. Malfoy knew him enough not to have any hope in bringing him out of that room during that weekend; God knows why he even tried. "You're coming? Really?"
"Yes." Tom got up, approaching his wardrobe and opening it in order to get some clothes. He carefully chose the less old looking uniform suit he had. If one looked with attention, they would be able to see that it was not made by Madam Malkin: the fabric was a little rougher, the buttons were a bit different, the Slytherin snake on its emblem was of a slightly darker green… But no one needed to know that uniform was the work of Martha and Miss Connick's deft hands. "But I won't stay there for long."
"At least you are going!" Abraxas laughed, walking up to him and giving him a friendly tap on the shoulder before heading to the door. "Canopus and Atlas are already down on the courtyard. I believe they'll want to leave as soon as I get there, so… See you at the Three Broomsticks?"
"All right."
Riddle sighed after the other left his room. He didn't want to go. He needed to finish Dumbledore's essay and read through the scrolls on the uses of salamander blood that Slughorn had leant him. But he also didn't want to stay there and give his subconscious the satisfaction of convincing him of something. The boy looked down at the uniform in his hands, feeling a cold feeling rising on his stomach. He hated that, but ignored it and hurried get ready, otherwise he would have to deal with Avery and Lestrange mocking him for taking so long to catch up with them.
"I need to buy something for my parents," said Minerva as they walked down the main street of Hogsmead. "Father enjoys Honeyduke's candies, so I think I'll get something from there for him, but mother…"
"You'll find something for her." Hermione smiled to the girl next to her before hugging her cloak closer to her body. The approaching of the holidays just made her realize how quickly time was passing by while she was in the past. And that was scaring her more and more. That was the only reason she left Hogwarts that weekend. Maybe Hogsmead could make her forget a little about her situation.
"Oh, I wish you could spend the holidays with us. Robert and Malcolm would like to have a visitor at home, but father likes to spend the holidays with family and family only." McGonagall sighed. "But you'll like Hogwarts during the break. You saw how beautiful it already is, all decorated for Christmas? And I heard Slughorn gives a pretty nice party on Christmas or on the turning of the year. You haven't been to the Slug Club, right? Well, they say it's better than the Slug Club."
"Slug Club?" asked Hermione, trying to sound convincing.
"It's a little group of students Professor Slughorn picks from all the years: kids with good grades, kids whose parents are friends with him, kids with promising futures… I'm in it, but I almost never go to the meetings. Most of the other members are Slytherins and not nice Slytherins like Dorea or Irina." She sighed.
"Is Riddle in it?"
"Are you kidding me?" Minerva laughed out loud. "Riddle is Slughorn's most precious student. Although I heard he stopped attending to the meetings this year. Maybe it's the NEWTs. Riddle may not be trustworthy, but he knows what's more important when it comes to school. Oh, and Riddle always stay during the holidays, so you'll have good company."
Hermione rolled her eyes right before she heard someone calling them. Turning around, she saw a young boy running up to them. He had dark hair, dark blue eyes and a freckled face. Minerva sighed as he approached them.
"Hello, Malcolm," said McGonagall, turning to look at Hermione again. "This is my little brother, Malcolm. Malcolm, this is Hermione. She's new at Hogwarts."
"I've heard." The boy looked at her from head to toes before adjusting his Ravenclaw scarf around his neck. "Minnie, you have to help Robert and I to pick something for mum and dad. We saw a really nice chess game for father, but we don't have enough money to buy it by ourselves."
"I don't think he'll want a magical chess game, Malcolm," whispered Minerva, leaning towards her brother. "You know he doesn't like it very much."
"But he likes chess. And we can take off the enchantment from it, anyway." The Ravenclaw shrugged right before grabbing his sister's gloved hand. "Please, Minnie!"
McGonagall sighed, looking at Malcolm, and then smiled to him.
"All right, all right." She looked back at her friend, giving her a faint smile. "Hermione, you can go ahead and meet Charlus at the Three Broomsticks. He and Septimus must be there already. Tell him I'll be there soon enough."
The girl watched as Minerva walked away, being almost dragged by the hand by her brother. Hermione couldn't help but smile. It was still weird to see her future teacher not act as the stern woman she used to know, but there was still a hint of Professor McGonagall in Minerva and she felt a warmth in her heart every time she could see her teacher in her friend.
Still smiling, the witch started to walk around the main street of the village. She would take a look around the stores and see if she could find a gift for Minerva, Charlus and Septimus, even if it was something really simple, before meeting the others in the Three Broomsticks. She started with Tomes & Scrolls and then passed by several stores – all of them were too expensive for her condition as an orphan – before reaching Honeydukes. In there, Hermione bought several candies for her friends – and was surprised to see that most of the products were different from the ones in her own time, even though the chocolate frogs, the cauldron cakes and the Bertie Bott's beans were already there – and, after a while, came out carrying three little boxes of candies.
To Hermione's surprise, she had been feeling good during the last few days. Her wand was obeying her; the Amortentia's brewing was all right and Malfoy hadn't blown up anything yet; Riddle was proving to be way quieter than she expected, at the same time that Abraxas was proving himself way louder than she expected, but not in a bad way. It was good to feel relaxed at least for a few days. And she preferred to enjoy this relaxing time for the time being because she knew it would vanish as soon as the students left Hogwarts. She would, once again, see herself alone and without anything to do. Consequently, she would start to miss her friends and her parents.
Trying to ignore these thoughts, Hermione shook her head, tightening her hold on the boxes before taking a good look at the village. She could believe she was in her right time hadn't it been for the different faces she saw around the place. In 1997 she would be seeing Pansy Parkinson chatting with Blaise Zabini by the entrance of the Three Broomsticks and not Walburga Black talking with Wilde Rosier. She would be seeing Colin Creevey strolling along the path that, in the future, led to the Shrieking Shack in order to take a few photos there instead of Tom Riddle walking through this same path…
Hermione narrowed her eyes. Why was Riddle there, anyway? It was not as if the Shrieking Shack was already there to be appreciated by the students. And it was not as if Tom would be interested in a old shack anyway… The only thing out of the village's borders was the snow-covered forest. 'Don't you dare to go after him,' a tiny voice whispered inside her head. 'Don't play the detective like Harry does. Go back to the Three Broomsticks and drink a Butterbeer.'
The girl bit down on her lower lip, pressing the boxes against her chest before starting to walk towards where she had seen Riddle, in a slow pace. Seven years next to Harry had a horrible influence on her.
Although he hated to admit that, Tom knew he should have stayed in the castle during that weekend. It was cold and windy and, if that wasn't enough, he knew something was wrong when he saw his father staring at him from near the ending of the main street of Hogsmead. Yes, his Muggle father. His Muggle father that should have been dead was in a wizarding village, watching him with a way too serious face. Or maybe it was someone that looked a hell lot like Tom Riddle. Either way, that disturbed him and made him feel anger boiling inside himself. Tom knew he shouldn't let his irritation cloud his thoughts, but all he could do at the moment was to grab his wand and stalk after the man, who had now turned around and walked away from the centre of Hogsmead. Was it possible that there was still any other Riddle alive? But, even if that was a Riddle – his face was enough to make Tom believe in that possibility -, how could he be in Hogsmead? Could he be a wizard? No, of course not! The Riddles was the most ordinary and boring kind of Muggles.
At each step he took, more and more thoughts appeared in his head; and at each new thought, his anger grew bigger and bigger. Riddle didn't even notice how much he walked away from the village when he finally came to a stop. He narrowed his eyes, staring at the man in front of him, who had now turned around. It was his father's face, but, at the same time, there was something different about it. Tom Riddle Sr. had always had a much softer, more scared expression on his face. This man, on the other hand, had a stern look on his handsome face. He looked more contained and stronger than his father.
"What are you doing here?" Riddle hissed, feeling a shiver run down his spine as he saw the man's lips stretch into a smile. "Aren't you happy enough with disturbing me inside my head?"
"But he is inside your head, my dear."
Tom's eyes widened as he saw his father's figure vanish in a blink of an eye as soon as another voice echoed behind himself. And, as Tom Riddle Sr. disappeared, at least four hooded figures seemed to pop up all around him.
"What…?" Riddle turned on his heels and felt his heart skip a beat. There was a woman standing a few metres from him. She had blond hair, blue eyes and a strong, beautiful face that was somewhat familiar to him.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle," she said, smiling to him. Just now Tom noticed her strong, foreign accent. "I don't think you know me-"
"Jaeger," said Tom, tightening his hold on his wand. "Grindelwald's Valkyrie."
"Very good, Mr. Riddle!" Her smile grew wider as she approached him. "Ten points to Slytherin for your knowledge on the events regarding the war. But still… Five points from Slytherin for your lack of control over your own mind."
"What was that?" He motioned for the spot where he had seen his father standing a few minutes ago.
"An illusion. It was quite difficult to get in your head in order to make you see him, but I think I did a good job. As soon as you saw him, your defences trembled and I even managed to hide all of us from your sight when you arrived." The others chuckled and Riddle felt another shiver running down his body. He looked around and noticed how stupid he had been to wander away from Hogsmead like that. "Dad's a soft spot for you, isn't he?"
"What do you want?" He looked around once again, seeing that one of the other figures had taken down his hood. Tom recognized his face too. He didn't remember his name, but he remember seeing his crooked grin and mocking face on the Diary Prophet once. He had been involved in the attack of a group of French refugees in Liverpool.
"It's not what I want. It's what my Lord wants. You caught his attention, Mr. Riddle," said the Valkyrie. "You and your brilliance and your dirty blood."
"My blood is not dirty," Tom hissed through his teeth.
"Your father was a Muggle. He was dirty and his dirtiness runs through your veins too," she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But you're lucky. Lord Grindelwad does recognize brilliance when he sees it. He's willing to turn a blind eye over that little detail that was your father as long as you join us…"
The boy stared at her for a little while before a laughter burst from his mouth. Did she really think he would believe in such a stupidity? And even if it were true, he would never join someone who was losing. Because that was what Grindelwald was doing: going downhill and bringing down with him all of his followers.
"I'm sorry!" he managed to say through the remains of his laugh. "I didn't mean to… Oh God, I'm sorry, but you'll have to tell your lord that I must turn down his generous offer." Riddle took a deep breath before hearing one of the men surrounding them grunt something in another language before raise his wand in his direction. With a quick wave of his wand, Tom managed to send the man flying away from him, hitting a tree and falling to the snow covered ground. "Really?"
The woman stared at him for a little while before sighing. Before Tom could even think, something hit him on the chest and, soon, he was sprawled on the ground with a horrible pain on his chest. He heard the Valkyrie's voice talking to the others and, then, another voice broke through it. He recognized it right away and he didn't know if he wanted to thank God or curse Him.
"Stay away from him!" Hermione Elston was truly a Gryffindor: mindless and impulsive. And to think he believed she could be a bit better than that. But no, there she was, caught inside the same trap as him, pointing her wand to one of the most dangerous witches of the time.
Brunhild didn't even bother to listen to the girl. She kept approaching Riddle and he kept staring at her as he heard one of the men start to shoot spells at Hermione. He could only hope she didn't get herself killed.
"You're not going to kill me," he said once she stopped by his side. "You won't kill me so close to a place like Hogwarts."
"We've killed under the Ministry's nose, Mr. Riddle." She smiled and Tom decided she looked way more terrifying from that angle. "But you're right: I'm not going to kill you." The witch knelt down by his side, putting her hand on his chest and pressing him to the ground. Riddle could feel magic coming from her hand, immobilizing him as long as her touch remained there. "We're truly interested in such a young boy that is capable of killing his own father," she whispered and Tom's eyes widened. "Magic leaves signatures, Mr. Riddle, and one can track this signature as long as they know what they're looking for. Your Ministry was looking for a madman who hated Muggles and, as soon as they found Morfin Gaunt, they arrested him without thinking twice. We were looking for a brilliant wizard who believes Muggles are unworthy. We were looking for Lord Voldemort."
Tom felt his breath hitch, but forced himself not to give himself in. He took a deep breath and furrowed his brows.
"I have no idea of what you're talking about," he said, trying to sound confused. "I never knew my father. He left my mother before I was born."
"Ivan Karkaroff told us about Lord Voldemort after a nice session of torture. Whoever told him about this Dark Wizard let it slip that he and Tom Riddle were the same person." Riddle bit the inside of his cheeks. He was going to kill Lestrange… No, not kill, of course not. But he would make sure to make his classmate start to fear saying his name. "We had already heard about you, though. Your professor Slughorn can't shut up about his favourite students. He talks about them to everyone. And he idolizes you!" The Valkyrie laughed out loud and her laughter ended up mingled with the sound of spells being shot on the background. "Lord Grindelwald cannot let another Dark Lord arise, let alone a Mudblood Dark Lord. But he can have Lord Voldemort by his side, do you understand it?"
"I do," Tom whispered, noticing that, even though her magic kept his torso on the floor, his limbs were free. "But, as I said, I have no interest in joining Grindelwald." As soon as he finished talking, the boy moved his right hand, mimicking the movements he would have done in case he had his wand in hand. A purple spell hit the witch on the chest, pushing her away from him. She fell a metre away from him and Riddle got up in a jump, running up to where his wand lay on the snow. Once he grabbed it, he turned to see how Hermione was.
The Gryffindor had managed to give her attacker – the man with the crooked grin – an ugly gash across the face, but she was now being held back by another wizard. The girl tried to kick her attackers, but soon stopped when Crooked Grin slapped her across the face, shouting something in another language. Tom raised his wand, pointing it at the wizard, but before he could do anything, something hit him and he fell on the floor, screaming.
Riddle felt as if his whole body had been on flames. Had he been a bit more concentrated, he could remember the name of all the nerves through which that horrendous sensation was running. He could hear Hermione screaming on the background, but her voice soon faded under his own screams and the ringing in his ears.
"Now, now, Mr. Riddle, stop it." Brunhild's voice was followed by a light nudge on his side that made him squirm with pain. "Your friend is being more obedient than you."
He heard one of the wizards calling and looked over, his body still aching, to see Crooked Grin holding Hermione still – one of his arms around her neck and his wand pointed to her neck – while the other man held her left arm, with the sleeve of her shirt torn. He couldn't see what he was supposed to see there, but the woman seemed to do so, as her face lit up with curiosity before she approached the younger witch.
"That's beautiful, my darling," she said, her fingers skimming over the skin of Elton's forearm. "What an original idea!" Brunhild fell in silence for a moment, before placing her wand into the holster on her belt. Hermione seemed to notice something because, as soon as the older witch turned around, facing Tom again, the girl started to scream again trashing about in the man's arms.
And, then, the Valkyrie was on him once again. Her magic and the weight of her body straddling his waist holding him down; her strong hand grabbed his left wrist, forcing it against the ground. The boy tried to use his other hand to claw at her, but soon his right arm was also being held down onto the floor by magic. Tom could feel his own magic bubbling inside himself, but his panic made it impossible for him to shape it the way he wanted, redeeming him useless under the woman. He looked up to her once again just in time to see the witch producing a dagger from inside her coat. That sight only made him panic even more while he tried to coach his own magic to attack the other, making Riddle completely ignore the spell she whispered against the blade before placing it under his sleeve, cutting the fabric up to his elbow.
"Shh, don't worry, Mr. Riddle," whispered Brunhild, leaning down as if to get a better view of his forearm. "I won't kill you. It's just a reminder of who you are… Oh, and a reminder of us, of course. You look at it and think about our proposition once again."
The Valkyrie smiled candidly before placing the tip of the dagger against his skin and dragging it along his forearm. The Cruciatus curse was horrible, yes, but that was agonizing. It was such a simple way of hurting, so Muggle-ish, and yet he couldn't do anything to escape from the burning sensation on his skin. The fact he had been submitted to the torturing curse a few minutes before must have helped to increase his sensibility towards pain because it was impossible for a cut to hurt so much. And he was screaming once again – Tom tried to prevent himself from screaming, but his voice seemed to just make its way up his throat without his consent – and he could feel hot, wet trails running down the sides of his face. He must have looked pathetic.
After what felt like an eternity, Brunhild took the dagger away from him. Riddle hesitantly turned his head and felt his stomach churn as he saw his forearm covered in blood. The woman brushed her hand over the wound, wiping a bit of the blood from it, making it possible for him to see the shape of the cuts she had made on him. He felt his insides twist even more when he managed to make out the word that was now engraved on his skin.
"Just so you don't forget the Mudblood that you are." The witch smiled once again and then bent down, giving a light peck on the wound, just how a mother would do with her injured child. "And, as I said-"
Before she could finish, another voice echoed around them. Riddle was too busy trying to think straight to pay attention to whom it belonged, but, soon, Brunhild weight was lifted from him and he managed to roll over, moaning before kneeling and looking around for his wand. He pressed his forearm against his abdomen in order to stop the bleeding, cursing rather loudly and still sobbing and moaning. Tom looked up to see Hermione on the ground, also looking for her wand, and… Was that Dorea Black? Yes, it was. Little Dorea Black knocking down a grown man with a well placed curse. And, right behind her, approaching them running, Slughorn and Merrythought, shouting for her and… Who else? Miss Marwin? Yes, for her and Miss Marwin to go away.
"You're such a snivelling vermin." Tom looked up to see Crooked Grin standing right in front of him. Brunhild was duelling against Merrythought – and, there, Riddle understood why Professor Merrythought was such a great teacher -, but the man didn't seem to pay much attention to what was going on around. His eyes were glowing with disgust as he stared down at Tom. "Brunhild should have cut your tongue off instead of playing with your arm."
And, before he could do anything, Riddle felt something really hard hitting him on the chin. His sight brightened with the impact and everything around him seemed to disappear. The duel between the Valkyrie and Merrythought was not there anymore, the noise of the spells exploding around him and Hermione's desperate screams faded and the only thing he could see was a bright light that came along with the muffled sound of teeth clashing against teeth inside his mouth.
When his sight went back to normal, Crooked Grin was not near him anymore but sprawled on the ground a few metres away from where he was now laying. Riddle moved his tongue inside his mouth, panicking as he felt little hard fragments in it: teeth, broken teeth… Broken teeth amidst the metallic taste of blood. The boy pushed the broken teeth to the front of his mouth, spitting it on his hand, noticing how his mouth refused to open too much. He repeated it until all the fragments of teeth were gone from his mouth and then proceeded to run his tongue over his teeth. The broken ones were from the back of his mouth, which was a good thing, but he could also feel as if his gum on the right side of his mouth was weird, as if the bone under it had moved.
"Tom, my boy!" Riddle felt someone holding his shoulders right before a hand raised his face. "Oh, Merlin's beard! It's all right, you'll be fine, my boy!" Slughorn, of course. Slughorn panicking as he tried to help him.
"Th-The Valkyrie-" stuttered Tom, looking around. Merrythought was looking over Hermione and Professor Toulson was now arriving at the place.
"She's gone, Tom, don't worry." The older wizard looked around, waving for Merrythought. Riddle took this time to touch his chin, feeling blood coming from there too. "Don't worry about it. Healer Octavian will take good care of it, Tom. It was just a kick."
A kick! So that stupid man had kicked him and proceeded to break a good number of his teeth and open a gash on his chin with it!
"Oh, dear," he heard Merrythought's voice moaning as she stood next to them. "Shh, calm down, Mr. Riddle, we'll take care of you."
The teacher's hand found his shoulder and, soon, a wave of calmness took over him, making his sight black out and all the sound around him to vanish.
A/N: After a long time without managing to write anything (this chapter was already written, but I didn't want to post it before I wrote more chapters), here it is. A bit of an action in it, not my favourite thing to write, but okay. This just happened because about two years ago I managed to break my jaw by passing out thanks to a vasovagal syncope. It resulted in 28 days with my mouth shut with a meaner version of orthodontic braces and during one of these days I was so mad at myself for passing out and fucking up with my jaw and my teeth (I fractured it in three different places +broke about 6 teeth) that I thought I needed to write it someday. And then Tommy was lucky enough to be the chosen one to bear my fractures (: also, big thanks to Cella (voldybadass) for inspiring Tommy in the first scene with Tom Riddle Sr.
I'm sorry for the delay and I can't promise you guys I'll be posting too soon. University is eating me alive and my inspiration is not in it's better days right now. But I hope you liked this chapter, please, leave a review telling me what you thought of it. (: