Chapter 6: Beneath the Surface

September 11th, 1943

Rafe was pacing back and forth, his wand idly twirling between his fingers, the pale light of the dormitory window casting eerie shadows in the room.

His gaze would occasionally shift towards the other occupant of the dormitory, Tom, who sat perched on his neatly arranged bed, engrossed in a pile of meticulously organized parchments. Rafe's own bed, in stark contrast, remained messy, a testament to his hurried departure to Hogsmeade that morning. Upon his return, he had discovered Tom poring over documents sent by Rafe's brother, Leon, who had finally written back and sent a copy of all the information he found in relation to Burke's parents.

Secretly, Rafe couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his brother's compliance. It marked an improvement in their strained relationship, suggesting that Leon was making efforts to rebuild the trust, after their scandalous altercation on Rafe's birthday over the summer.

"Anything interesting in there?" Rafe asked casually, his curiosity getting the better of him after several minutes of silence.

But as expected, Tom didn't respond. He extracted the final parchment from the cardboard box and proceeded to read it, his expression giving away nothing.

Rafe sighed, resuming his restless pacing. Tom had been consistently irritable and detached lately, and although Rafe considered this his baseline disposition, it usually balanced out more with his rare "euphoric side," as Rafe liked to call it, which surfaced when everything went according to his plans.

Last year, Tom's other side had reigned supreme. He had been appointed Prefect, basking in the power it afforded him, and he had also opened the Chamber of Secrets, which demonstrated his ancestry and finally secured him the admiration of his peers. Among this turmoil, he'd even initiated a secret club, where they practiced dark spells and engaged in profound philosophical and political discussions about shaping a better wizarding society. Those days, Tom had been so agreeable that he occasionally allowed them to indulge in some alcohol, sometimes even partaking himself.

But something had changed around the time of Myrtle Warren's death, and Tom's preoccupation with Horcruxes had also grown insatiable.

Rafe scrutinized Tom's stony face, attempting to discern his thoughts, but it proved fruitless.

If he had to take a guess, Rafe thought that something even more significant had occurred during the summer, but he hesitated to broach the subject, fearing the response.

Why Rafe tolerated Tom during his grimmer moments was beyond his comprehension. A part of him feared Tom, knowing full well the type of things he was capable of, both magically and mentally. Rafe also recognized that aligning himself with Tom was a contributing factor to his own progress, as Tom's brilliance and unwavering ambition had elevated Rafe's standing at Hogwarts, gaining him the respect he'd never experienced at home.

Yet, beneath it all, there was an unspoken bond that Rafe hated to admit. Even if Tom didn't reciprocate his feelings, he couldn't deny that he had grown to care about him. But Rafe wasn't foolish. Tom liked to believe that he was delusional about the nature of their relationship, but he actually understood very well the boundaries that had been established long ago.

Rafe empathized with Tom's traumatic childhood, his abandonment by everyone in his life, as he was casted away in a muggle orphanage. He had to admit, that it was a much more difficult upbringing than his. Rafe clearly remembered this insecure child, thrust into a new magical world, and stripped away from the belief that he was special.

Despite the injustices Tom had suffered, he had persevered, displaying unwavering determination. He had spent years hiding this insecurity, building walls around him. But Rafe knew he was still afraid; this whole new obsession with immortality made it clear.

And now this obsession had taken a new form, manifesting itself though this Burke girl.

"Do you have all the information you needed?" Rafe asked again, growing increasingly frustrated.

Tom finally tore his gaze from the parchment, responding with a sigh, "It's better than nothing."

With a precise flick of his wand, Tom packed the parchments back into the box. Rafe pressed on, his patience wearing thin. "And...?" he asked.

Tom rolled his eyes and retorted, "You can read the documents if you wish." He gestured towards the box now on his bedside table. "I have no time to discuss; I must attend to my rounds."

Rafe bit his lip to stifle his annoyance, watching Tom exit the room without another word. Now he was left with the task of deciphering those pages, and he hated reading.

…….

Ada descended the stairs in haste, stealing a glance at her wristwatch. After returning from Hogsmeade, she had spent most of the evening lying on her bed, drifting between dreams and reality. Emily had entered the room at some point, admonishing her to hurry if she wanted to grab a bite before curfew, but she kept on sleeping. What felt like mere minutes had turned into an hour, and she was finally jolted awake by Margot's snores in the nearby bed.

Scrambling in the dark to locate her shoes, her mother's book, and her wand, Ada tiptoed out of the room as quietly and swiftly as possible. Distracted, she failed to notice the still-crackling fireplace and the figure seated on a crimson sofa.

"I ought to inform you," a voice caught her off guard, causing her to stumble. "Whatever you're up to, it's probably a bad idea."

Ada spun around, displeasure etched across her face as she found Charlus Potter sitting there, his eyebrows knit into a single line. He sat cross-legged, engrossed in a graphic novel that danced with animated images.

"Why are you up so late?" she asked, arms folded.

"It's not that late to be awake, but it's certainly too late to be wandering the castle."

She shot him a glare. "Are you telling me you've never broken curfew?"

"This is not about me," he responded. "It's about who you're sneaking around to meet."

Charlus closed off his novel, setting it on the table next to him as he stood up and walked in front of her.

"I saw you today with that group of Slytherins," he continued, and Ada thought she saw some genuine concern reflected on his face, which she found odd. "And then walking back to the castle with Riddle, to make things worse."

Ada interrupted him, her patience waning, "Why do you even care? And what's wrong with Slytherins? I'm tired of this petty rivalry."

But Charlus persisted. "They're not the best company, Adelaide. They're obsessed with appearances and feeling superior," a dark gleam passed his eyes and it seemed this was more personal to him that he was letting on.

Ada raised an eyebrow as he continued with his speech. "And don't even get me started on Riddle. He thinks he's fooling everyone. But I can assure you, he is no saint. The way he sneers at others when he thinks no one's watching... And It's all very peculiar how he 'captured' Hagrid last term. Hagrid, of all people!"

Ada finally interjected, "I have no idea what you're talking about, and I don't understand why you care about who I associate with. You don't know me, and I don't know you."

"Uncle Henry has been urging me to keep an eye on you," he admitted, raising his hands in surrender. "He's convinced some people will seek to befriend you for the wrong reasons. And, you know, maybe he's right."

The mention of Henry hit Ada like a blow. "Oh," she mumbled.

Charlus took a few deep breaths to regain his composure, then shook his head, his eyes drifting to the floor. "It's not just some silly rivalry," he said in a softer tone. "I'm not sure if you've heard, but a Muggle-born girl died at the end of last term, supposedly killed by a monster."

Ada's mouth opened slightly in shock.

"Other students got attacked in the hallways and were petrified, and those Slytherins that you are defending, they laughed at them. Although, I guess no one thought it would get that far..."

His eyes finally came back to examine her face.

"Dippet and Dumbledore were considering closing off the school, and then Tom Riddle, the grand savior, came to the rescue," he pronounced his name with clear disdain. "You should talk to Maureen Williams, the Ravenclaw Prefect. She has an interesting theory about what happened, and I'm inclined to believe her given that she was doing her rounds around the murder scene that night and she looked truly shaken about what she saw."

Ada was speechless. The death of a student at Hogwarts was a major thing, and she wondered why no one had mentioned it before. Then a fleeting image of the trophy with Riddle's name crossed her mind – Special Award for Services to the School.

"I know Riddle isn't who he seems," she said, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself. "But what you're implying is very serious."

"Just be careful," Charlus cautioned. "I never met your mother, but from the way Uncle Henry talks about her, it's clear she wouldn't have wanted you to fall in with the wrong crowd."

Charlus gave her one last stern look, and then walked back towards the sofa.

Ada was infuriated that this boy, who didn't know her at all, would presume to understand her mother's wishes. However, a part of her acknowledged that it didn't necessarily mean he was wrong.

She reluctantly took a couple of steps toward the exit, sneaking one last dubious glance at Charlus, who was again engrossed in his reading.

…….

Riddle had been waiting outside as he promised. Looking completely unbothered by the deserted hallways as he guided Ada to the West Tower and into an abandoned classroom, dusty and draped with cobwebs.

"Do you come here often?" Ada asked, glancing around.

"Only when I wish to avoid prying eyes."

With a wave of his wand, Riddle incanted Cave Inimicum, sealing the room from unwanted intrusions, just as he had practiced during class the day before.

"Most people steer clear of this wing," he explained. "There's a rumor about a malevolent ghost haunting it."

"That sounds delightful," Ada quipped, using her wand to clear a cobweb from a desk before taking a seat.

"It's merely a rumor. All ghosts at Hogwarts must be registered with the Ministry to roam the castle."

Riddle approached her and produced a couple of books from the satchel he had placed on the desk next to her, arranging them before her. He then took a seat.

"Ink of the Ancients: Brahmi's Timeless Legacy," Ada read aloud, inspecting one of the volumes. "This is a Muggle book."

Riddle shrugged. "It provides the most comprehensive translation." He gestured to the other book. "This one, however, is not Muggle, and it should help us decipher how your mother may have infused the writing with a protective spell."

Ada paused, her shock evident. "Why did you say that?"

Riddle sighed. "We need to translate it first to decipher the incantation," he replied, annoyance creeping into his voice.

"No, not that," Ada pressed, her agitation growing. "You said my mother infused the writing with a protective spell."

Now it was his turn to pause, locking eyes with her, he lifted his perfectly sculpted chin in defiance.

"I never mentioned my mother," Ada continued wither accusation, her voice quivering.

"You didn't need to; it was obvious."

She narrowed her eyes, her grip on her wand tightening. "You're lying. What do you mean it was obvious?"

Riddle stood, and now towering over her, his expression was menacing. "People talk, Burke. I'm sure you've heard the stories circulating about your parents."

She attempted to interrupt, but he silenced her. "I overheard you mention to Professor Onai that the book belonged to a relative, and you stuttered. You carry that book with you everywhere, clearly displaying a sentimental attachment. It's not as deep as you believe."

Her heart raced. She didn't know if his words even made sense, or he was playing with her.

Ada stood up as well, a warm feeling bubbling inside of her. Riddle was almost a head taller than her, but she didn't allow his stature to intimidate her, as she fiercely looked into his cold eyes.

They both stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. Ada knew he was thinking of probing her mind again, and she contemplated doing the same. While she wasn't adept at Legilimency, the idea of unsettling him with her attempt was tantalizing.

But he smiled suddenly. "You're so angry," he noted with amusement.

She growled and turned her back on him. He was trying to goad her, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of being right. But his next words caught her off guard.

"I can understand. It must be frustrating to be kept in the dark and powerless in the face of your parents' reckless decisions."

"You don't know how I feel," she retorted, still avoiding him.

"Oh, but I do," he replied softly. "You're not angry at me; you're angry at your mother for abandoning you. You're angry at your father for not caring enough. And most of all, you're angry at yourself for allowing it all to happen, for never taking a stand."

She felt him getting closer to her back, the little hairs on her neck standing up.

Ada's voice was a whisper as she defended herself. "I was just a child."

"You don't need to explain," he said. "I'm merely making observations."

She felt his presence retreat and risked a glance over her shoulder. Riddle was seated again. With his bare hand he summoned one of the books on her table and began flipping through it. Ada couldn't help being impressed with the effortless display of wandless magic.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He shot her a sharp look. "What we came here for, of course. That is, if you're done with the theatrics."

Ada sighed in defeat, realizing now that she had been playing with fire when she agreed to this. Fleetingly, Charlus' warning also rang in her mind, but she shook the thought away.

She reminded herself that she still wanted to unlock that security charm. Ada knew that she was probably obsessing about it. After all, it would be a matter of months for the charm to naturally release on her seventeenth birthday; she only had to wait. But Riddle's words held some truth. She was tired of being a pawn in her parents' games, and Ada was not a child anymore.

Reluctantly, she settled back into her chair, taking out the small red tome from her bag.

"She wasn't a bad person," Ada said absentmindedly, her fingers tracing the scripture on the book's cover. "In the end, she regretted her choices."

Riddle studied her intently, an inscrutable expression on his face. Ada wondered if he would reply that he didn't care. To be fair, she didn't know why she was telling him these things.

But he didn't say anything.

They worked in silence for hours. Riddle sketched a preliminary translation of the symbols on the cover, while Ada delved into arcane etymology and its practical applications in magic.

Every so often, she stole a glance in his direction.

Personality aside, Riddle was pleasing to look at. The way he concentrated on his work, the occasional lick of his lips, it almost made her smile. His exterior beauty was a stark contrast to the darkness that lay within.

Ada pondered about him, curious about his past. He was both the most renowned student in the school and still a complete enigma to her. She'd never heard his surname before and wondered if he might be a muggle-born, but the Slytherins' reverence for him seemed to contradict that.

Then there was the Muggle-born girl's death. If Charlus' implications were accurate and Riddle was somehow involved, it wouldn't align with him not being a pureblood.

"It's impolite to stare at people," Riddle suddenly remarked, catching her off guard. She hastily averted her gaze from his face; it wasn't the first time he'd caught her observing him, but she didn't want him to misconstrue her intentions.

She decided it was time to investigate him rather than hope he would reveal his secrets through mere observation. Perhaps Marie, being a housemate, could provide some basic information, and she also recalled Charlus mentioning the Ravenclaw Prefect. Ada didn't know who that was, but she was now determined to find out.