Venenum.
By Koryander
Thank you KateKat1992 and Infernalbooks for the comments.
This chapter was edited on July 27 (2020) by my beta-reader Kcarmeh. Please give her all the love for all the work she is doing in helping to edit the text to improve your reading.
Chapter 3. Dendroaspis - The lion or the snake.
Her legs are trembling, her throat is dry, her heart pounds against her chest, her lungs seem to ache with every intake of air and her eyes burn with the tears that are beginning to form. Hermione thinks she's at the beginning of a panic attack or is hyperventilating.
Oh, she recognises him now. The boy who tried to help her and Harry. Oh, she remembers. Remembers him fighting and how she protected him from Fiendfyre. She had no idea who he was at the time, but if she had known... If she had known that he was the cause of so much suffering and terror that tormented her and her friends, if she had known he was a murderer and a terrorist, if she had known that he was the future Dark Lord, if she had known he was Lord Voldemort ...
She wouldn't have thought twice before letting the Fiendfyre hit him. How ironic it would have been to see the Dark Lord being charred by one of his Death Eaters. Oh, she would have liked it. Merlin knows she would. She would dance in his ashes, she would set off fireworks like the Wildfired Whiz-Bangs, drink a barrel of mead and one of Firewhisky and laugh like a drunk. Merlin, she would swim naked on the Great Lake. All this to commemorate the death of the Dark Lord. But no, she'd saved him, put herself in front of him to protect him from the attack.
In her defense, she thought it would have been a worthy act, to sacrifice herself and protect a student who tried to help her and Harry - even if this student didn't know what he was getting into. It was the right thing to do and Hermione didn't want to see any more deaths.
It would have been the right thing to do... if this person was not Voldemort himself!
Hermione mentally kicked herself. If she had let the Fiendfyre hit him, then all the problems of the wizarding world would have been solved. Even if it was against the advice Dumbledore gave to her, even if his early death changed all the trajectory of time, for a moment the idea was tempting for her.
"Miss ...?" He tilts his head to the side, his voice sweet and with eyebrows united, as if he were worried.
Hermione so far said nothing, she was petrified in her place, still trying to absorb the idea of being face to face with young Voldemort and his most loyal followers. This can only be karma. A rebellious tear trickles down her face and she dries it quickly, trying to compose herself to face him. For everyone present, the girl's countenance and pallor did not go unnoticed, not even the tear.
"Forgive me," she says, swallowing. "I remembered some memories of the fight."
"Oh, it's understandable that you're scared." Riddle puts his hand on her shoulder, lowering slightly, so that he is at her eye level. Hermione's eyes widen at the sight of him so close. It is not a sixteen or seventeen-year-old boy that she sees, but, the pale, noiseless, red-eyed monster with a snake face.
His hand is on her shoulder and Hermione thinks that as soon she has a chance to take a shower, she will rub her shoulder for at least thirty minutes.
"But I'm sure you're safe at Hogwarts." He smiles, trying to convey security.
"Uh ... uh, thank you." She murmurs.
Their attention is drawn to two more boys who are approaching. One has blond hair so alike to Draco's, closely resembling platinum, with green eyes and white skin, walked serenely and yet, arrogantly. His lips were strangely rosy as if he had passed lipstick, but Hermione supposed it was only the color contrast with his skin. The other had a rather long face, dark hair, his nose seemed a little crooked as if he had broken it and never healed right or he never bothered to go see a mediwitch, however, he didn't seem to care much about anything. He was a little more corpulent and strangely familiar.
When they finally got close enough, they stopped and looked at her with interest.
"This is Abraxas Malfoy." Riddle introduced him. Abraxas looked at her from under his nose, this being the only trace of recognition of her presence he gave.
Obviously, he was a Malfoy, such physical appearance could only come from that family.
"And this is Antonin Dolohov."
Hermione swore that the tea and biscuits she had eaten with Dumbledore were coming back up her throat to her mouth. Oh, it's karma . Her stomach churned and she was sweating cold.
Where did she and Harry get in? They were in the middle of the snakes, literally. Draco and his gang were nothing compared to this, they were small snakes like those of gardens, without poison and only visually threatening. Now, these? These were the real dangerous snakes, najas, poisonous and with their King guiding them .
"This is Miss ...?" Riddle stopped, staring at her, remembering that at no time had she given her name.
"Granger. Hermione Granger. "Her voice is thin and low.
Before anything else can happen, the whole group of Slytherins stiffens in the presence of Dumbledore.
"Professor Dumbledore." Riddle is the first to speak, putting his hands behind his back, straightening his posture and raising his head in a very composed way.
Dumbledore arrives e as her savior and for a moment and Hermione inaudibly breathes a sigh of relief..
"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore greets, looking over his half-moon glasses. "I believe, gentlemen, that it is time for dinner. I suggest that you join your housemates. "
"Of course, Professor. We were just introducing ourselves to Miss Granger. She was returning the robe Alphard lent this morning." Lestrange speaks and as if to confirm, Alphard swings a little the robe in his hands.
"It's true, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione confirms, more to ensure her safety than theirs. Oh, Merlin save her from being a target of this gang.
"Very well." Dumbledore accepts such an answer, releasing the Slytherins who soon enter the Great Hall. "The Sorting Hat awaits you, Miss Granger." Dumbledore smiles slightly, before entering the Great Hall as well.
Hermione stood there, staring at the doors to the Great Hall. She admitted that she was a little anxious and so she took a deep breath, trying to calm down. When she entered the Great Hall, the whole conversation died and an awkward silence remained. She was the target of curious looks and as she walked towards the stool placed at the head of the Great Hall, there was a nostalgic feeling growing within her. The four tables representing the four great Houses of Hogwarts, the ceiling with floating candles and enchanted to look like the night sky with stars, the teachers' table, the Headmaster, the ghosts and portraits. For several moments in her previous time, Hermione thought she would never see all of this ever again.
She walked more confidently, feeling more assured than the eleven-year-old girl who had walked - will walk - through this Hall. She was maturer and wiser, so when she climbed the few steps to reach the Sorting Hat, she smiled at Dumbledore, who held the Hat.
She sat on the stool, Hermione was facing the whole Hall with all the students who were silent and looked intently at her. She took another deep breath before she felt the Hat being placed on her head. For some reason, it seemed heavier, but it was probably her impression and a result of her concern.
Hello, child. The Hat's voice resounded in her mind. Have we met before? Hm ... What do we have here? A paradox, are you? Interesting. At the Hat's comment, Hermione fought against the Hat's invasion of her mind. Relax, child. Let me in.
Just put me in Gryffindor . She ordered.
It's not that simple. Let me analyse you.
She was reluctant to let the Hat in and know everything that had happened to her, but it seemed inevitable, so, gradually, she let the Hat in to know all the traits of her personality and how the events she passed through modified her.
Hm... I see. You are loyal as those of Hufflepuff House to those who can win your heart. You are dedicated, work hard and see everyone as your equal, regardless of status. The Hufflepuff House would welcome you. Helga would certainly be happy to have someone like you in her house.
However, your brain is fascinating. You are extremely intelligent, have good reasoning and are quite logical. Independent and an insightful observer, besides having intellectual curiosity. The Ravenclaw House would accept you for who you are. Rowena would be amazed by you. But you're not as tolerant and patient as you think you are.
"It's a Hatstall," someone murmured.
"Are you sure?"
"It's been four and a half minutes." Another responded.
There's your fear . The Hat spoke confidently and Hermione swallowed. The Slytherin House. You mustn't fear them, not really. Against everything you think, you really do have the traits that belong to this House. The Slytherin House values ambition, cunning, intelligence, and determination. These traits you've already presented. The House also values self-preservation and you have also presented this trait, haven't you? You don't expect them to act in your defense and you feel they are also judgmental. But are you wise enough to survive in the Snake House? Will you be able to manipulate people so you can get out unharmed? Remember that everyone there shares the same traits as you and they will test you to see how far you are able to go and if you will be able to settle down in that House.
Oh, please don't! They will kill me if I enter their House .
Salazar Slytherin himself would rise from his grave if he knew that a Muggleborn was in his House. But all Hermione heard was Hat's somber laughter.
"It's a real Hatstall," one student confirmed. "It's been six minutes."
Oh, Gryffindor. Brave, adventurous, fearless, stubborn and competitive. This is the Gryffindor House. Godric Gryffindor himself would be impressed by your courage. You are fearless and face your fears and enemies for what you believe, you are faithful to your friends and although sometimes go against their actions, you do not abandon them. You're stubborn when you think you are right and you are competitive, always willing to win first place. And though you say you're a rule-lover, you're not afraid to break them if you have to.
"It's been seven minutes already." Another student said, impressed.
Which house should I put you in? Hm ...
Gryffindor! Hermione ordered, the Hat laughed at her command.
Once was, maybe. I know the you of now, Hermione Granger. Your attitudes have changed, you hesitate between being merciful or being merciless. Sometimes you question yourself and seem to select those who should receive your kindness and your effort. Despite your loyal manner, you don't belong to Hufflepuff House.
Ah, here's the problem. The Hat noticed. I can put you in any of the three remaining Houses. You certainly have the traits of the Ravenclaw House, this House suits you well. With your intelligence, your thirst for knowledge and wisdom, you're brilliant for Ravenclaw House, though ...
You would die for those you love and would fight until your last breath for them, you already sacrificed for them and would do it again, despite fear, you face your enemies and sacrifice yourself for a greater good. Courageous, you are. But ...
What you went through, the things you had to do, changed you a little. You still question your attitudes, but don't think twice about what has to be done to achieve what you want. You would kill for those you love, you will manipulate your enemies if necessary. You are ambitious and thirsting for recognition. You want people to know who you are and that's why you stand out. Determined, you are.
Be careful what you do here - paradox. The Hat alerted.
Your heart is and always will be -
"- Gryffindor!" The Sorting Hat, with a powerful voice, announced.
Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, but the tension in the Great Hall was palpable and all were silent. Everyone looked at her and when a student took a sip of pumpkin juice, it was heard throughout the Hall. She felt the Sorting Hat being pulled from her head and she looked at Dumbledore, who smiled at her and then, the Gryffindor's table burst into applause and smiles. It was like her first year, Hermione thought.
Her gray clothes turned into the colors of Gryffindor House with just a snap of Dumbledore's fingers.
More relieved and confident, Hermione walked towards her table. They made room for her to sit down and she had to restrain a smile, for sure enough, she was happier to be among Gryffindors.
"Come on, you can pass twenty galleons each." A tall, strong, red-haired boy spoke. He had green eyes and freckles on his nose and an extrovert demeanor. To Hermione, he reminded her of Fred and George.
"Argh, you're extorting me." Another red-haired boy complained. This one had lighter hair and bright brown eyes, but what scared Hermione was just how much he was like Ron.
She couldn't control herself, and all she saw was Ron. Her heart squeezed and she looked at him, fascinated.
"Well, well, if you didn't keep betting against him, he wouldn't be taking your money." The girl sitting in front of Hermione, said. She had light brown hair, green eyes, and lips coated with lipstick. "I'm Enid." The girl reached out, greeting Hermione.
"Hermione."
"Welcome to Gryffindor House. This is Bilius Weasley." She pointed to the red-haired boy sitting next to Hermione. "And this is Ectur Prewett." She gestured to the red-haired boy who looked like Ron. "Don't mind them. They were betting on which House you would enter. "
"It was a fair bet. You're a Hatstall, after three minutes the bets were made." Bilius shrugged, talking cheerfully to Hermione. "Well then?"
"What?" Hermione tried not to laugh at the look of anticipation on Bilius's face.
"Which House was the Hat in doubt about? After what I saw in the courtyard, I knew you would be in Gryffindor, but our Ectur here thought you would be in Hufflepuff. "
Hermione looked at Ectur and found herself blushing because he reminded her of Ron. But it didn't escape Hermione that she was possibly talking to the father of the future Mrs. Weasley. She swallowed hard and took a deep breath, trying to keep negative thoughts away.
"It was in doubt between Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor," she said solemnly.
"Thank God," Ectur murmured. "Glad you didn't get into Slytherin."
"That's true," Enid confirmed.
"Look at them," Bilius said, and inconveniently Ectur, Enid, Bilius, and Hermione looked at the Slytherin House table. "They probably eat poison for breakfast."
Enid tried to hide her laughter before she spat out her pumpkin juice and in a very delicate way, she wiped the corners of her mouth.
"The basic rule of Hogwarts: Don't trust a Slytherin," Ectur told Hermione, as an advisor to the school's newcomer.
"I'm truly surprised you decided to come to Hogwarts after what happened-"
"Bilius, no!" Enid censored. "Don't scare the girl."
"What? What happened? "Hermione asked, now very curious about the abrupt change in the conversation.
Both Ectur and Enid became silent and stared at their food plates.
"Well, I mean, it's not to frighten you." Bilius tried to undo the conversation.
"What is it?" Hermione demanded softly.
"We are really surprised that someone wants to come to Hogwarts after the attacks and death of Myrtle Warren. She was from the Ravenclaw House." Enid explained, more gently and politely. Trying to appease some supposed terror that Hermione, a fledgling in their eyes might have. "For a moment, we all thought the school would have been closed. But apparently, it's been solved. So you can stay calm. "
As Enid spoke, Hermione lowered her head, remembering why she was there. For a moment she almost forgot where she was, seeing the students' interaction at the Gryffindor table, being in the Great Hall, engulfed by the pleasant aroma of the feast and looking at Enid, Ectur, and Bilius, and how comfortable they made her feel. When she saw the resemblance to Fred and George, Ron and Ginny.
The image of the Weasley siblings... It fell apart from her mind's eye to reveal Bilius, Enid and Ectur. The truth felt heavy on Hermione's head, as if an odd pressure had settled there. These weren't her friends, it wasn't even her generation.. They were their ancestors. The future parents and grandparents of her friends.
When she remembered that Enid mentioned Myrtle Warren, the Moaning Myrtle, Hermione shuddered. Now she understood where she was and whom she was talked to at the entrance to the Great Hall. The killer of Myrtle. He was there, a few feet away from her.
She didn't resist the pull and looked at the Slytherin table, Enid's voice, Ectur's, and Bilius' faded away and she focused on Lord Voldemort.
Oh, it was weird. It certainly was strange to watch the young Dark Lord eating. He was educated and ate quietly, had a proper posture, seemed to know about dining etiquette and made a face every time he saw someone eating and talking at the same time.
He was pale, really pale, as if his skin could not get tanned. His complexion was flawless, his mouth was full and of proportionate size, his nose was enviably Greek, his eyebrows were deep set which intensified his eyes, his hair was black as the color of a crow but his eyes were peculiar... They were extremely colored, a dark green which was not bright, but a color that could be mistaken as black if he were in the dark or could be gray if he were in the light. Hermione begrudgingly admitted that he was highly symmetrical, perfect almost,, overly handsome and Hermione asks herself if his favored appearance could be an effect of the Amortentia potion his mother gave to Tom Riddle senior.
But Hermione could see through his physical appearance, because she knew what he was capable of. She could feel the austerity in his aura and noticed the few dark circles under his eyes as if he had not slept right, but she knew, she knew it was the Horcrux. He had made a Horcrux within that time period. Hermione's blood ran cold through her veins. Oh, he had already managed to oust Hagrid. Oh, he was already a killer, a murderer. Hagrid… she mourned.
As if he felt himself being watched, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord, raises his gaze and looks directly at her and Hermione avoids his gaze quickly.
Now she's sure she needs to get out of here. She needs to find a way to get her and Harry back to their time.
Decided, she picks up some food and puts it on her plate.
o0o
At first, Tom Riddle observed her interacting with his servants and housemates. He noticed the look of terror she had, the pallor that her skin had become and how she struggled against tears. None of it went unnoticed by him. He found odd both her behavior and the fact that she appeared to avoid the smallest possible contact with him and his group. And it was surely not attributed to the propriety of a female's avoidance of males lest she enter into contact deemed improper… No. It was something else.
His servants were trying to attract her, trying to impress her with their family names and all it carried, as they did with all the other girls. For them, she was one of many others and they were playing a game between them with her. She was a trapped mouse and they were snakes ready to devour her.
He remembered her that morning, when she apparanted a schizophrenic, walking barefoot in hospital pajamas and with wild hair. Altered and nervous.
Ordinary people had the need to have their psyche in good condition, but any unusual experience breaks their minds very easily and they develop some kind of panic, which was what happened to the girl. She appeared to have developed some sort of post-trauma, and how didoes he know that? He knew from the moment her voice sounded thin and low, when she said she remembered a few moments of the fight. Tom almost rolled his eyes.
But, to keep up appearances, he smiled. Tom knew that he didn't feel like most people, sometimes he mused he was unable to feel any emotion. As if he were hollow, empty and nothing and no one could awaken any feeling in him that was not contempt. And it was not like he needed to feel anything beyond that.
As a child, he was unable to convey any emotion, being apathetic and without childish charm, but he had been smart enough to understand since then how the world and people worked.
Oh, it was so simple. He was an attentive, insightful observer and recorded every expression people made to convey an emotion. Happiness, anger, anxiety, fear, guilt, sadness... He memorised each one of them. He discovered how easy it was to manipulate people. Say in their ears sweet words, praise them, make them trust you, be patient and then, they start talking. Telling their fears, their secrets, and when they least expect it, he has already applied the bite. Like a snake, he slowly squeezed until it broke their bones. Soon, each one was in the palm of his hand. They barely realised what they've given to him, all the weapons they unknowingly gave him so that he can destroy them.
He laid his hand on her shoulder. Touch. In order to instill trust, touch was necessary, eye contact was necessary, it masked the lies and disguised that he really didn't care whether she was well. The mask he puts on his face, imitating an almost genuine expression was for her. It was the first step for her to open up to him and tell him everything he wanted to know.
He was a curious one from birth. Tom doesn't like not knowing who the people around him are. Hogwarts is his castle and here he is King. And a king needs to know who his subjects are. If she really was in the war, as she stated, then he wants to know more. He wants to know why her arrival had such a disturbance in magic that all wizards and witches felt it. He wants to know why she was being hunted. Well, it was no less than fair that she gave him answers, after all, he risked himself - well, that's half truth - to save her and her friend, brother or whatever.
He also remembered that she stood in front of the Fiendfyre to protect him. Unnecessary, he notes. He could save himself. But he promises that her actions will not be taken in vain. He'll be a little nicer to her and if she's interesting enough, he'll give her a favor. After all, a Lord, a King, is benevolent to those who show loyalty.
Then Dumbledore arrived. The old man ticked him.
Dumbledore was what could be considered the stone in his shoe. He managed to get all the teachers and even the Headmaster to fall in for the character he has created, except for Dumbledore. The old madman was like a shadow behind him, always doubting his words and attitudes - and rightly so - but it was frustrating and bothersome to have to deal with the famous and illustrious Albus Dumbledore watching. Waiting for him to slip. The only person who knew his past, who knew that he lived in an orphanage and the guilty one of him sending him every Summer holiday to that rotten and filthy place he hated. He would very much enjoy burning that place with everyone inside. He hated it, its people and what they did to him.
Ah, but his revenge will be slow and deadly.
With a nod, Tom walked to the Great Hall. Malfoy, Dolohov, Mulciber, Rosier, Avery, Lestrange, Nott and Black walking behind him like puppies after their mother. If he told them to lie down and roll, they would all do it.
Fear. Tom yawned. What people do when they feel scared, when they feel threatened. It's very amusing.
They walked and some girls sighed, laughing like hyenas, blushing and fanning their lashes wildly. It was disgusting. Tom Riddle, smiled at them. Females could be really annoying. His group was famous among them and on the opposite side envied by the boys. Good-looking, that's what the girls said. Each of them was a kind of ideal man, they sighed. Sportsman, intellectual, musician, flirt, charismatic, introvert, cheeky and Tom Riddle, ah... Tom Riddle was all. A bit of each of these things in a perfect measure.
There really was an advantage of being the best, he observed. While walking, people made way for him, the Slytherins made room for him to sit at the table, looking at him, admiring, cautious, envious. Hogwarts was his castle and here he was King.
And then, she entered. Tom realized that her attitude had changed. From a frightened little girl to a confident young lady. The Great Hall was silent at the arrival of the newcomer. Everyone was curious about the girl who fought in the courtyard.
He noticed the deep breath she took before she had the Hat on her head. He stood there, watching her closely. If anyone looked quickly, they would think she was ordinary, but if they stopped to notice her, they would see that she could be considered aesthetically reasonable. Her hair was really full and uncontrollable - at first, he thought her hair was that way because of the battle - but no, her hair was like the mane of a lion. Her eyes were brown, she had a few freckles on her nose, her lips were thin but not overly so, her eyebrows were held low as if she was almost always serious, thoughtful.
He thought it would be quick, but it wasn't like that.
Come to Slytherin. If she were selected for Slytherin House, she would be under his control. It would make his work a thousand times easier. But then, he waited and waited.
"It's a Hatstall," someone murmured at Slytherin's table and he cast a somber look on the person.
When it was past five minutes, Tom was already impatient, and that had marked her on her bad side. To add to this, in less than a day, the girl managed to become the interest of the school. When it reached six minutes, tension marked his jaw.
What's so different about her? He asked himself, suspiciously. He promised himself that he would pay due attention to the girl.
When she hit the seven-minute mark, it was indisputable that she was a Hatstall. Tom remembered when he had the Hat placed on his head. It hadn't taken long, the Hat knew what he was capable of, how much magic he had. Ge was selected for Slytherin without undue delays.
Slytherin was really his House. It was his home. He was the Heir of Slytherin.
"-Gryffindor!" The Hat announced and all the appreciation he felt for the girl collapsed.
Really?The House of Idiots? He snorted. Well, he was still going to keep an eye on her, but now she was nothing but a disgus- He notices the look she gave Dumbledore as if seeking approval. How curious. In Gryffindor House, she was right under Dumbledore's wing. The look Dumbledore gave her, he was also aware of it.
Dumbledore knew something.
Curious.
He eats patiently, tasting his meal. To each of the boys who eat with their mouths open or talk while eating, he makes a face. Tom rolls his eyes internally. These people are mommy's little children and don't know the least of how to behave at the table. It was really disgusting and gave him the urge to vomit.
Tom Riddle felt it. He feels when someone's looking at him. It was like some kind of sixth sense he had developed. A way of always being conscious of what was going on around him. When he looked up, she was looking back at him. He would have smiled at her, thrown the bait for her to catch, the girls always fell for that, but before he has the chance she quickly fled from his gaze. As if ignoring him.
His jaw locked and his teeth ground with the pressure he applied. His eyes narrowed.
The Slytherin students walked back to the dungeons to retire for the night. The cheerful air between them was noticeable. But it was only between them. The Slytherins didn't get along very well with people who were from the outside, and newcomers had a certain type of 'smell'. Slytherins only fought for themselves.
But as soon as everyone passed by the stone wall, the environment changed. The Slytherins were not overtly cheerful and extroverted, but it was really amazing how everyone changed from the moment they were in the Common Room.
And it changed because of him.
Malfoy, Lestrange, Avery, Black, Mulciber, Nott, and Rosier spread out in the Common Room as they watched Riddle sit on his favorite armchair near the fireplace. The combination of the darkness and the low light that the fireplace provided augmented him to appear more terrifying than he was. At Slytherin House, there was a very obvious hierarchy and Riddle was at the top.
Slytherin's regular students talked softly, respecting the space of Riddle's gang.
Malfoy sat down on one of the sofas after taking his robe off and calmly started reading his book. Although it seems that he was focused on reading, it was not so, he was very attentive to what was happening around him and especially the tension in the Common Room.
Black lied on one of the sofas, loosening his tie and winding up the sleeves of his shirt. He looked at the green lamp as if it were extremely interesting. Dolohov was sitting on the arm of the sofa that Alphard was lying on.
Nott and Mulciber were seated, starting a wizard chess match and occasionally glancing through the windows of the Common Room at Hogwarts' lake.
Avery and Rosier were quietly standing talking to each other.
And Lestrange was walking from one side to another, like a caged animal.
"A waste of time," Lestrange complained. "The new one is a stupid Gryffindor."
Avery and Rosier exchanged glances and smiles at Lestrange's comment.
"Calm down, some Gryffindors are good," Avery said.
"Even if it's to kill time." Rosier completed.
Nott and Mulciber laughed, Dolohov shook his head, but there was a smile on his face. Alphard was silent, still contemplating the dark green colour of the chandelier. Malfoy sighed and rolled his eyes before pretending to continue to read.
The Knights waited until the Common Room was occupied only by them. Some Slytherin girls said goodbye with a silly smile to Avery, Rosier, and Lestrange, others talked to Dolohov. Mulciber and Nott were undisturbed while playing chess. Riddle, well, no one dared to talk to Riddle when he was thinking. For girls, it was like observing a beautiful painting from some museum - see, but do not touch. And now, the Nines were alone in the Common Room.
"Lestrange." It was Riddle's voice that sounded.
They froze immediately when they heard Riddle's voice. Oh, they had made a mistake. They made a terrible mistake. Alphard quickly adjusted his position, sitting straight on the sofa, Malfoy stopped reading and sat more upright, Nott and Mulciber left their chess game, Dolohov was more attentive now and Avery, Rosier, and Lestrange also sat.
Their breathing became shallow as they waited for what Riddle would say. They still remembered the terrible mistake they made in their first year. They joined up against Riddle and questioned his blood status, mocked him and cursed him, and even today they had nightmares of the remembrance of young Riddle when he had taken revenge. That... That hadn't been normal. How could a little boy invoke so much fear in other little boys?
That pale, handsome little boy with green eyes and perfect face... With a dark smile on his face, with his wrath and strong magic around him. A magic so strong they all felt it within themselves. It was a living thing. That smile he had given while they screamed and felt as if their bodies were on fire.
If one day they had questioned what Riddle was, they never did anymore. Especially now.
"Yes, my lord," Lestrange said in a low, submissive voice.
"Your father has contacts in the Ministry, doesn't he?" Riddle asked, his voice calm, focused. He seemed quiet and serious.
"Yes, my lord."
"Wouldn't it be nice if he could get us some information about what happened to our new student ... What's her name? Oh, yes, Miss Granger." Tom rested his head on his hand, which was clenched into a fist and his arm rested on the arm of the cushioned seat.
"I can try to talk to my father and try to get the information," Lestrange responded quickly, almost stammering. Tom frowned a little.
"Are you going to try, Lestrange? "There is a somber tone in Tom's voice, indicating the change of temper. Tom swung his wand lightly, playing with it between his deft fingers. It was a trap for Lestrange, depending on what Lestrange responded, he knew what could happen to him.
"I mean, I'll get the information," Lestrange corrected himself quickly.
" My? " Tom insinuates.
"My lord," Lestrange corrected himself again.
"Great." The change in Tom's voice is immediate. "Isn't it wonderful when we all cooperate, hmm?" Tom smiled. It was terrifying.
It was just terrifying.