Chapter 13
Tom Riddle sat in his high chair at the end of the Great Hall. Unlike the night of the gathering, the hall was void of the long tables. The stone table that Hermione was bound to on that cruel night was also nowhere to be seen. The hall looked very empty, lonely even. The tall windows let in just enough light to outline Riddle's silhouette but his face was masked in the shadows. There was only still air around him and the absence of noise cast the whole room in an eerie atmosphere. Then the silence was broken by the door at the other end of the hall slowly creaking open. Tom raised his head slightly and discovered that it was Snape who had entered. Snape swiftly narrowed the distance between himself and Riddle and soon stood in front of the high chair.
"They have her. The Pensivitum is being used," said Snape.
"…Has she lost her mind yet?" Riddle asked.
"Not yet. But it's only a matter of time."
Riddle said nothing. His insides were lurching at the thought of Hermione being worse than dead. But he wasn't about to show such thoughts to anyone, let alone Snape. He still didn't completely trust Snape, but his herbology and potions skills were invaluable. It didn't hurt to have a spy in the Hunters' inner circle as well, even if Snape was a double spy. It was near impossible to have an inside look into the world of the Hunters and Snape provided a rare service that few vampires would be able to do. Snape took a step forward, breaking Riddle's chain of thought.
"I can stage an escape if you wish it so," said Snape.
"Escape," said Riddle.
"Yes, an escape. I have… subjects that I can let loose. She can escape in the commotion."
Riddle stood up and slowly walked towards the window. The grounds outside were bathed in the pale silvery light. The leaves had turned color and were falling one by one to the ground. He lightly touched the glass with his hand. It had only been a few weeks since Hermione's absence. But it felt like an eternity to him. Yet, he wasn't going to admit to these emotions. He actually couldn't admit to it, even if he wanted to. Those feelings were locked away and the only emotion that remained was pure obsession and jealousy.
"An escape implies that she is being held against her will," said Riddle. "What have you to say about this implication?"
This time it was Snape's turn to be silent. Riddle slowly turned to face Snape. He understood. Silence meant that his inference was wrong. Hermione wasn't being held captive. She was there because she wanted to. That wasn't surprising. He knew how his actions affected Hermione. Yet, he couldn't help but be angry. His prize was lost and with it he lost a spark inside of him. A spark that was ignited by Hermione, putting an end to eight centuries of a stagnant mind. He needed her back, but his pride would not have her return against her will. He wanted her to come crawling back, begging him for his blood.
"There will be no need," said Riddle. "She will return eventually, on her own accord."
Snape bowed slightly. "As you wish," he said, turned, and as swiftly as he came, he was soon out of the Great Hall. Riddle sat down on his high chair again and his calm face hid his anxiety. If they were using the Pensivitum, they may have already reached his secret. And with Snape lurking about, he needed to make sure that it was safe. He wanted to stand up and go right away, but he remained still, seemingly lost in thought, to ensure that if Snape was still around it would seem that there was nothing to be hasty about. He sat like this, patient and motionless for several hours.
Finally, he got up. He made slow, deliberate steps towards the doors of the Great Hall and exited, tuning his senses to feel if Snape, or anyone, was around. When he was sure that he was alone, he made for his bedroom. Once there, he turned and muttered a complicated incantation in order to ensure that the door to his room was locked. No ordinary spell would be able to break through them. He hastily went to the windows and muttered the same incantation. He then dragged the curtains over the windows. The heavy velvet drapes blocked out the feeble moonlight and now the room was completely dark.
"Lumos," Riddle whispered. A tiny light shone from the tip of his wand. It made his four poster bed cast an intimidating shadow against the wall. Riddle crouched down and gently ran his hand over the carpet right in front of his bed. Then abruptly, his hand rested on an inconspicuous spot. Riddle pointed his wand to the carpet.
"Aloho moritus," he said. A thin strand of golden light escaped his wand and circled the spot where his hand was. Slowly the light assembled itself into a shape of a key and was inserted directly through the carpet and into the floor. Riddle grabbed the glimmering key and turned it, half a circle clockwise, then twice counter-clockwise. Then he let go of the key. It slowly faded into nothingness. The carpet melted into the floor and the entire ground turned to a clear liquid. Riddle stood up and without hesitation dipped his foot into the substance. In a flash, the substance sucked him in. Riddle calmly twirled his wand in his hand as he traveled downward, and soon, his feet hit solid ground. He looked up to see that the clear liquid was congealing into stone and carpet again.
He was now in a long corridor. The tiny light from his wand showed that the corridor was no wider than the width of a healthy adult man. The walls were composed of big stone bricks. The dust that was settled on the bricks suggested that fresh air had not traveled down here for a long time. Riddle touched his wand to the wall and soon small balls of silvery light lined the walls, illuminating the corridor. He started to advance by walking, but soon broke into a run.
After a few minutes, the long corridor gave way to a huge chamber. It too was lit by floating balls of light, only these were huge, and ensured that the chamber was bathed in a bluish tint. The chamber was shaped as an octagon and at each of the sides there was another corridor stretching into darkness. Other than that, the chamber was quite bare. Riddle advanced towards the center of the chamber where a pedestal stood just high enough at chest level. He bit his finger lightly and let his blood drop onto the pedestal.
As soon as his blood made contact, the pedestal broke into seven equal pieces. He carried the seven pieces to the entrance of each corridor. On the floor of each entrance, there was a small depression to which Riddle placed the pieces from the pedestal. After placing the seven pieces, he returned to the entrance of the corridor he took to get to the chamber. Here, there was no depression to fit a pedestal piece. Instead there was a small diamond shaped hole. Riddle reached into his robes by his neck and retrieved a necklace. On the end of the necklace hung a brooch, which had two snakes coiling around it with emerald eyes. He unhooked the brooch from the chain and dropped it into the hole.
Smoke started rising from the hole and Riddle stepped back. Slowly the smoke materialized into the shape of a crystal bottle. In it was what could only be blood. Riddle sighed. It was here. It was safe. He ran his fingers along the length of the bottle. The blood was still warm. It would be warm for centuries. He sighed in relief and stood up. The bottle vanished in a puff of smoke and Riddle grabbed the brooch that shot out from the floor. He then turned into the corridor, ready to go back, confident that Hermione would be willingly returning soon.
(A/N: Sorry for the delay and the short length of this chapter. This chapter was a pain to write! Sorry if it seems like nothing much is happening. This is crucial to the story, I promise! Anyhow, I am still looking for a beta. Also, I welcome reviews and constructive criticism. Hope you enjoy!)