Tom struggles to sit patiently through another prefect meeting where everyone quarrels about Halloween. He sits at the head of the classroom, next to the Head Girl. Yvette is leading the meeting tonight, but this is by Tom's design. He prefers to seem uninterested in power as he wields it. He learned this from Dumbledore. It adds a certain layer of mystique to all that one does.
The truth is, Head Boy is an asinine title that grants him certain privileges that benefit his real purpose. That is how Tom carries the title, as a disguise. He plays the role of the good little boy, prim and proper, but behind closed doors, he schemes. He enters the chamber. He spies. He gathers the Knights of Walpurgis.
It is much easier to do these things when you have the social capital; when you do not have to worry about curfew, or about being harassed by the Pringle the caretaker, should you run into him.
It is also much easier when you imperius him, but that is neither here nor there.
Tom reads over the page in front of him as Yvette drones on about the merits of interhouse unity and collaboration. To the all the other prefects in the room, Tom appears to be holding a small handbook of Hogwarts' policies and procedures. In reality, he's holding a transfigured copy of The Winter's Tale. It's the same from when he was last with Hermione; he nicked it from the library before he left. He had to; it would be unacceptable for people to think he prefers seventeenth century muggle literature for some light reading.
Tom almost smirks, but rearranges his features into an attentive expression quickly. He's meant to be supporting Yvette, he knows. She catches his eye as he turns to look at her as if in full attention, and she flushes with pleasure as she stutters out her next words.
Tom has to restrain the desire to roll his eyes. How she can think he would ever be interested in her is beyond him. He simply cannot understand her childish little fantasies.
He fingers the page earmarked by Hermione when she slid the book out of his hands. She did it for him, he thinks, harboring is own little fantasies. It must be a clue.
His mind thus engaged, he almost misses his cue to speak.
Yvette Wilkens is again arguing in favor of a Halloween dance, but most of the male prefects are firmly against. She looks to Tom now for support, expecting him to rise up to her delusions and throw his weight behind her.
Normally, Tom would simply play both sides. He does not care for Yvette Wilkens' good opinion, but that doesn't mean he will needlessly throw it away either. You can never know when someone might become useful. However, an idea is slowly dawning on Tom, and it becomes more and more attractive with each passing moment.
"We should just put it to a vote." Tom says, commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Yvette looks overjoyed, her greedy eyes practically shining.
"All those in favor, raise your hand." She announces, raising her own. She begins to count the votes. Almost all of the girls have their hands raised, including Lucretia Black, the seventh year Slytherin prefect. Tom narrows his eyes at Nott, and raises his hand. Nott's eyes widen, but he follows suit, nudging Davies to do the same.
The vote is overwhelmingly in favor.
"Well," Yvette beams happily, "I guess we're having a Halloween ball!"
Several boys groan, but she bravely ignores them as she starts listing all of the tasks that will need to get done to prepare. Some of the girls argue over whether they will call it a ball, or a dance. A fifth year Hufflepuff shouts out 'hoedown' as a suggestion, resulting in titters and whinging. Yvette attempts to restore order, but there is too much excitement. Some of the girls are already planning their trip to Gladrags in Hogsmeade, arguing about colors they'll wear, the styles, the cuts of their robes, while the boys continue to suggest increasingly stupid names for the dance—shindig, and boogie, and hoodang. One of the boys shouts "revel!" and hoots and hollers fill the room at the suggestion.
Tom says nothing. His mind is working out the details of a rapidly forming plan.
Halloween night will now be the perfect night for it. He has long been feeling that joining the Knights of Walpurgis should include some sort of physical mark. Something deeper and more permanent than a tattoo—a magical branding. Something that would tie the Knights to him and ensure absolute loyalty.
The dance would serve as the perfect cover. No one would notice five missing students when the whole school was gathered at the Great Hall with loud music and dancing. There is one problem, however. He is Head Boy. The title he accepted for its conveniences would prove very inconvenient if he was to be constantly sought out during a major event like this.
"It should be a masquerade," Tom speaks. The idle conversations die down, and he gathers their notice effortlessly, much to the jealous chagrin of Yvette. "A masked ball is the ideal celebration of Halloween, is it not?"
Excited chatter builds up again, and everyone is quick to agree. Yvette says she will leave it to a vote once more, which is quite needless, for it passes unanimously.
Tom smiles and leans back in his chair.
Masks will be a fine addition to his plan.
xxxxxx
The meeting adjourns, and the prefects shuffle out of the spare classroom to head back to their respective common rooms. Some of them lag behind to fix the desks and chairs, goody-two-shoes that they are. The Slytherin boys wait patiently in the hall for Tom, wanting to walk back to the dungeons in a group. It makes them feel special to be led by their Head Boy, so popular and well-liked in their house and school.
Tom joins them after a brief conversation with Yvette. She gushes about how pleased she is that he agrees with her on the dance, and what a brilliant idea his theme is. She insinuates heavily that he can ask her to the ball, that they ought to go together, Head Boy and Head Girl, arm in arm at the dance.
He pretends not to understand her.
Nott and Davies stand on either side of him now as they walk briskly down the hall. There is still a half an hour before curfew, so the rush is needless. However, Tom feels anxious to sit down with his Knights, and make plans for their next meeting.
Davies is not a Knight, but Tom knows he is desperate to be included. He is always the first to volunteer for Tom's schemes, when he is made aware of them. He is passionate about blood purity, coming from a well-established pureblood family himself. There is something slimy and desperate about him that Tom does not like. Still, he withholds from complete rebuke, as Tom is pragmatic; there is room for every type of chess piece on his board; whether knight or pawn.
Tom walks silently as Davies and Nott discuss the meeting. Davies wants to dress up as a Dementor, and Nott tells him that's not a good idea. Davies argues that it is. Tom can hear the edge in Nott's voice; he finds him annoying too. Davies asks to stop by the Quidditch pitch for a second to grab some brooms—they need to be serviced since the day after tomorrow is the first Quidditch game of the season. Slytherin versus Hufflepuff. Nott looks to Tom, and Tom agrees. He wants Slytherin to win just as much as anyone else.
While they are there, Davies runs into the two beaters on the team, getting in extra practice before the game. They agree to join them on the way back, since curfew is fast approaching. The conversation takes a turn towards quidditch, and the boys talk excitedly on how it will be a sure win. Half the Hufflepuff team are girls; they don't stand a chance.
Just as their group is entering the covered viaduct, Hermione Birch turns the corner and appears on the other end of the wooden bridge. She has a younger girl with her, her tightly woven plaits bouncing behind her with each step. Tom recognizes her as the younger Davies, a second year Slytherin girl who has taken to hanging around Hermione in the common room. Hermione keeps her eyes trained directly on Tom until they approach. Tom finds he cannot look away.
"Your hair looks hideous." The elder Davies shouts at his sister as they pass them, leaning over to pull on one of her pigtails in an act of pure provocation. Tom smirks, which causes Davies to double down on his bullying, thinking he has his support.
"You've made yourself look even more like a pig. I didn't think it was possible." Davies laughs. The Slytherin beaters laugh along—Davies is set to be their Quidditch captain next year after Mulciber graduates. Nott shifts uncomfortably next to Tom, looking to see his reaction before he joins in.
The little girl turns pale, and looks ready to faint as the older boys laugh at her. Tom does nothing to help; he's interested to see how her companion will handle the elder Davies. He wants to see what curse she'll think up for him. Will she attack him in the open like a foolish Gryffindor, or will she plan a subtle strike like she did against Carrow?
Tom thinks there is capacity for either course of action. In the game of chess, it's not so much about the move itself, but about your timing. Tom wants to know if she will make an enemy of one Davies while trying to make nice with the other.
Hermione puts her hand on the little girl's shoulder, but does not look at her. She does not say a word. She is staring at the older Davies, who is currently doing his impression of an overgrown pig, oinks and all. To the outside observer, it may seem like a half-hearted attempt to comfort the girl, but Tom sees how the child seems to melt into Hermione's touch, the color returning to her skin. The younger Davies takes a deep, gulping breath and pulls out her wand.
Tom watches with interest as she hexes her brother, whose back is turned while he snickers with his cronies. What a low thing to do. But it is almost as if Hermione has ordered her to wait for her brother to turn around, to take such a cheap shot at her own kin. The elder Davies is struck in between his shoulder blades, and immediately his nose grows larger and deformed as fist-sized mucus flies out of his nostrils. He starts to scream, clutching at his face as mucoid bats exit and swarm around his body.
It is a funny spell. Almost harmless, he's sure. But it puts on a big show. Tom is certain no one will ever bother Davies' little sister again, but not for his lack of trying. The Slytherin beaters are holding Davies' arms as they drag him through the rest of the bridge, trying to get him away from the psychotic little sister who only watches her brother panic with a laughing, triumphant expression.
Hermione squeezes her shoulder in congratulations.
And like a sleeping serpent struck by the desert morning's first ray of hot sun, Tom is aroused.
xxxxxx
That evening, Tom bribes Lucretia Black. It isn't easy, but it isn't hard either. Tom only has to enter her mind briefly to understand that she has been in love with Ignatius Prewett since last year, and is frantic for reciprocation. That explains why she was upset last time Prewett was partnered with Hermione in potions class—the time she blew up their cauldron.
Tom tells her in a low voice that he knows about Ignatius, and she almost spills her inkpot onto the common room carpet. Tom snatches the pot at the last moment, sullying his own palm with a slick inky stain.
He tells her he wants to help her, but he needs her to help him. She is a Black, so she listens. He tells her he will make sure she is partnered with Prewett in their next potions class, if she does him a little favor.
"What do you need?" she asks quickly.
"Announce the prefect bathroom password in your dorm. Loudly. It needs to seem accidental."
She doesn't even ask him why. But she does ask him for one more favor.
"I don't want to be partnered with Ignatius just once." She looks at him sternly. Tom understands her meaning.
"Consider it done."
They don't shake hands.
xxxxxx
Tom does not go up to his dorm with everyone else at the end of the night. He lies supine on the long couch by the fire, and reads under his disillusionment spell until around two o'clock in the morning when he hears her.
She's quiet, but not quiet enough, in Tom's opinion. She's dressed in a loose long-sleeve black smock and matching bottoms, her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, and a bag hanging from her shoulder.
Just as Tom guessed, she falls for the bait. Tom knows the Slytherin showers are miserable. Slytherins just don't advertise it to the rest of the school because they do not want anyone to think lower of their house. The truth is, the showers are ancient and cramped, and there's barely enough room to bend over in the stall if you drop your bar of soap.
The dungeons are already dank, and the humidity left in the bathrooms by the running water is thick and unpleasant. The air smells heavily of mold and algae, but no one has ever been able to locate the source. The final nail in the coffin: after about half an hour of morning showers, the water starts running cold for the rest of the day. Lestrange used to swear that the water in the dungeon showers comes directly from the lake.
Needless to say, there is a general desire to become a prefect in the Slytherin house not because of ambition, but because the bathrooms are so bad it's worth it to have access to the prefect quarters.
So, it's no surprise that Hermione decides to sneak out after curfew again now that she knows the password. She slips out of the common room through the portrait hole, with a knowing Tom trailing closely after her. She doesn't disillusion herself, and Tom wonders if she does not know how.
Somehow, she knows where the prefect bathrooms are.
Tom knew she would, even though she shouldn't.
One very interesting aspect of Hogwarts castle is that its dorms are all bewitched so that girls can enter the boys' dorm, but the reverse is never true. Tom knows of boys in every house who have tried and tried again to enter the girls' wing, resulting in some remarkably daft, albeit funny, stories.
In a way, it is an absurd design, one that completely discounts female desire and feminine cruelty. As much as Tom respects the founders, he has often questioned this fatal flaw in Hogwarts policy. He wonders how many girls have snuck into boys' dorms and fed them love potions in their sleep, touching their things in their unconscious state, molesting their belongings, spraying their perfumes on neckties, holding their wands so they become accustomed to their magic.
All nefarious, evil things that girls can do.
Tom isn't so stupid. He knows what atrocities women are capable of. He doesn't make the mistake of thinking they are lesser or weak, he just thinks they have different motivations. Men like to brawl with their fists, and women melee with more diabolical methods. He's read both muggle and magical history books, and thought on the topic deeply. He thinks Hermione's beauty is as deadly as Helen's. He thinks her mind is as brilliant as Cleopatra's. He thinks her cunning rivals Consort Xi's. He thinks she fights better than Lozen.
Tom watches in the shadows as Hermione says the password, standing confidently in front of the statue of Boris the Bewildered. He watches her fall into his trap.
The prefect bathrooms are strangely the only loophole left by the founders.
Boys can enter there.