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OCTOBER 1944
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A dead snake nailed to the wobbly door of a small, run-down shack.
Powerful hands that hold her head firmly under water, threatening to drown her.
A statue of a winged angel of death, holding a raised scythe, stood beside a marble headstone.
Aliena let out a slight sigh as she pushed a lock of brown hair behind her ear. She glanced casually at her watch. Lunchtime was almost over and she had to hurry if she wanted to grab something to eat before her first class of the afternoon. The young woman quickly tidied up her things and hurried off to put the dusty old books she had borrowed back in their place. They were all about divination, prophetic predictions and study of signs and omens, but they contained nothing of interest, nothing that could help her.
Nothing like the book Tom had given her the other night.
At first, she kept it as far away as possible from her, refusing to read it. Refusing to accept anything that came from him. She had hidden it in the bottom of her trunk, but the more the days passed, the more she thought about it. She was drawn to it, inexorably, like the glow of a candle attracting a moth in the dark. Consumed by curiosity, she finally gave in and has read the first few pages. At first glance, deciphering its contents didn't seem that complicated. She'd been reading cyrillic since she was a child, and even though some of the words had disappeared from her vocabulary, she understood - or guessed - what they meant. No, the hardest part was reconstructing the sentences that had become illegible over time, the ink having disappeared in places. But the little she had read had immediately captivated and intrigued her. It was more than a supplement to her mother's notes ; this book was much more complete and enriching. She had to face the facts, even though she had known it for a long time. It wasn't in the books from the divination section of the school library that she would find answers to her questions. But in a book of dark arts magic.
Aliena put a grimoire away on a shelf, then turned on her heels. She gasped and stepped back, narrowly missing hitting the piece of furniture behind her, when she noticed Tom's presence. Leaning nonchalantly against one of the shelves a little further away, arms crossed against his chest, he was staring at her.
"Is everything alright Bletchey ? You seem nervous," he said as he approached.
"I'm not nervous, you just surprised me," Aliena replied, glowering at him.
"Am I ? I didn't even think it was possible. I thought nothing could surprise you anymore, not now that you see and know everything. Or almost ..."
She ignored his provocation and frowned. Unconsciously, she clutched against her the only book she still held between her hands. Tom must have caught her movement because, with a movement of his chin, he pointed to it.
"What are you reading ?"
He gave her no time to answer and took the book from her hand. Tom snorted as he read the title.
"Nostradamus' predictions ? Seriously ?" he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow. "Should I understand that you didn't like the book I gave you ?"
She took back it to him.
"I thought you hated divination and anything remotely close to it. I admit that I'm a little disappointed, I didn't think you paid much attention to that sort of ... Things. Nostradamus was—"
"A fool who liked to speak in riddles to cast a mysterious shadow around his unimportant predictions." Aliena cut him off. "He was only good at predicting the weather or people's deaths. Which is no mystery, everyone dies one day, even those who try to thwart it. Death is impartial and, at the end, it always wins."
Tom tilted his head to one side, moving a few strands of dark hair across his forehead.
"Is this a prediction from Nostradamus, or one of yours ?"
She remained silent, watching him narrowly for a few moments. Aliena knew that Tom was aiming for immortality with his horcruxes, playing against death itself. But why ? To what end ? She hadn't managed to get any information out of him. She knew everything and nothing at the same time, and that was particularly irritating. He irritated her.
Very much.
"What do you want, Riddle ?" she finally asked in a cold voice.
"Just talking." he shrugged, as if it was nothing.
"Don't bother. I've got nothing to say to you."
"Hmm ... Really ?" he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets.
Aliena didn't answer and pushed past him to get back to her table. She heard footsteps behind her.
Tom was following her and she restrained herself from running away, leaving her belongings behind.
"Trust me, you will. It's just a matter of time." he whispered in her ear.
"Well, I don't trust you, remember ?" she replied, facing him again.
"That will come too, don't worry."
He was so sure of himself, so confident. For him, he had already won. But won what ? She didn't know, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. They stared at each other in silence for a while. Finally, Aliena grabbed the strap of her bag and made a gesture to leave.
"See you tonight, Bletchey," Tom breathed as she walked past him.
"I don't think so," she said, her pursed lips.
Her tone was unmistakable.
"It's funny, you know ?" a sneer spreading across his lips.
"What ?"
She doubted very much whether Tom was capable of laughter, or even humour.
"I don't even have to use Legilimency to know what you're thinking," he purred, leaning towards her. "It's written all over your face."
"I don't like you. You know that, isn't it ?" Aliena hissed back.
Tom smiled wryly at her. "Lucky for both of us that I don't need you to like me, then."
No, he just needed her gift.
Not her, not her person, not her feelings. Just her gift of scrying.
For the rest of the day, Aliena had done everything she could to avoid Tom. What did he expect ? That she'd give in so easily ? That she'd agree to help him because he had given her a book ? That she'd invite him to take part in her ritual ? He could always dream.
Especially as she hadn't originally thought of doing another one straight away. She still had a small stock of potion left - two vials to be exact - so she could wait until next month to do another ritual. But in spite of herself, Tom had pushed her in the opposite direction. She had to do another one, she had to be ready.
Just in case.
She'd given Elaine and Isadora the slip as the three of them made their way to the great hall for dinner, pretexting to have forgotten something in the library. She couldn't afford to sneak out just after dinner or later in the night, at the risk of running into Tom and leading him straight to her hideout. At least now, it might take him a while to notice her absence, and even if he had the attention to search every nook and cranny of the castle — Well, he'd be at it all night. She could be anywhere.
Smiling at this thought, the young woman locked the door of the abandoned classroom where she'd been the last time. She traced a pentacle on the floor, carefully added the blood runes around it, then began to prepare the potion. The full moon hadn't yet risen, there were no rays filtering through the window, so she would have to wait before withdrawing the potion. But this gave her time for other things. Aliena sat down on the floor and took the old cyrillic book out of her bag, along with the notes she'd taken. She skimmed through them quickly.
« Scrying is nothing like divination. The few who have received the gift of scrying through blood ties don't need to look for signs in the stars or in the tarot cards to get answers to their questions ... »
« Scryers can learn to control and master their visions. The potion obtained as a result of the lunar ritual helps them in this respect, plunging them into a state of semi-consciousness in which they can more easily access to their visions. The exercise may be laborious and require practice ... »
The young woman glanced at the two vials protruding from her bag. She delicately picked one up and twirled it between her fingers. She swallowed hard. She could do it, she could succeed, she just had to concentrate. Taking a deep breath to give herself courage, she opened the vial and drank the dark liquid down. She grimaced slightly - she'd never get used to the ashy taste - then let the back of her skull rest against the wood of the old desk that sat in the classroom. Aliena closed her eyes, then inhaled deeply, trying to control her breathing. To remain conscious while being not.
It would be difficult, but she could do it.
She had to do it.
The rain was raging outside and tree branches were throwing themselves against the broken windows of the shack. In fact, it looked more like a hovel about to collapse. Dust and grime were accumulated on the furniture and floor. Scraps of unidentifiable food were rotting on the kitchen table, in dirty pots and pans. Aliena couldn't hold back a look of disgust.
She took a step forward into the room, noticing a man sitting in a gutted old armchair in front of the hearth of the extinguished fireplace. He was thin, very, very thin. His skin pale, his hair matted with dirt, and his dark eyes looked in opposite directions. She didn't know who he was, but she wasn't sure she wanted to know. His physical appearance put her off.
Suddenly, knocking sounded against the door, attracting both her and the man's attention. The door opened with a sinister creak, before slamming against the opposite wall with the wind, and Aliena's heart missed a beat. Tom stood in the doorway, wand in hand, his hair and long coat wet from the storm outside. He entered the shack without an ounce of hesitation.
For a few seconds, the two men looked at each other silently, then everything happened very quickly. The man leapt to his feet, brandishing both a wand in one hand and a short knife in the other.
"You !" the man spit. "You filthy muggle !"
He lunged at Tom, who reacted quickly and overpowered the wizard with ease. He grabbed him by the collar of his dirty, holey shirt and pinned him against the wall. Tom hissed something through his teeth and the man froze in place, startled, his eyes wide. Words were exchanged between them, or rather, whistles. Aliena couldn't make any sense of it, couldn't make out a single word, and frowned. A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky, illuminating the scene before her eyes, as well as the dead snake nailed to the open door, which swayed in the wind. And that's when she understood.
Parseltongue.
They were speaking in parseltongue, the language of snakes.
She knew that Tom was a parselmouth. She had heard him speak it in one of her previous visions. It was a very uncommon skill and was known to be an almost exclusively hereditary trait. Which meant —
Her mouth went dry. The most famous parselmouth was none other than Salazar Slytherin. The young woman felt an shiver run up her spine as she realised what this meant. She had already understood it in fact, but had refused to think about it, to think about the consequences. Tom was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, that's why he spoke parseltongue and was able to control the basilisk. But what about the other man ? Was it the same for him ? Was he a descendant of Slytherin too ?
Aliena caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, causing her to lose her train of thought.
Tom slowly lowered his wand, then stepped back from the man.
"You're not Marvolo. Where is he ?" Tom finally asked.
"Dead," answered the other man "He died years ago."
Tom's jaw contracted slightly, a sign of his growing annoyance.
"Who are you, then ?"
"Morfin." he said.
"Marvolo's son ?"
Morfin nodded as he pushed a lock of dirty hair back from his forehead.
It was then that Aliena noticed the shiny black ring on his left ring finger. The ring that Tom now had in his possession, and which he intended to transform into a horcrux. How had it come into his possession ? Had he stolen it, snatched it from the wizard's hands ?
Morfin leaned forward, squinting his bulging eyes to get a better look at the young man in front of him.
"I thought you were that muggle," he sniffed. "You look like him."
"Which muggle ?" asked Tom, sharply, his teeth clenched.
"That muggle my sister liked so much. You look just like him, like this Riddle. The one who lives in the manor house further away, but you're not him, aren't you ? You can't be him, you look younger."
Aliena frozed. Had she heard correctly ? Had Morfin really just said Riddle ? Like Tom's last name ?
Tom's inky-black pupils darkened. He had never looked so fearsome, so dangerous, as he did at that moment.
"And what's about him ?" his voice was as cold as ice.
"She left with him. She dragged our name through the mud by getting involved with that filthy muggle, and for what ? Nothing. He left her at the end." Morfin spat on the floor. "That little whore is gone. She stole from us, stole it from us ! Where is it ? Where's the locket ?"
Morfin seemed to be looking for something in his trouser and shirt pockets before he thought better of it.
"She took it —That little slut, she stole it. But this, this she couldn't have taken." he cried, waving his hand with the ring in the air. "No, no, she couldn't have taken it — Where is it ?"
Morfin alternated between english and parseltongue, in a speech that had neither head nor tail. Himself didn't seem to be aware of the gibberish he was spouting. Tom remained silent, watching the man raving in front of him. Finally, Morfin began to fidget, gesturing with his arms, pulling at his clothes, his hair, even the skin on his face.
"It's just me. Me, me, me ! She disgraced us, that ungrateful little bitch," he looked up at Tom. "It's over, there all dead ! You're too. You're going to die filthy muggle !"
He took a step forward, but Tom raised his wand and the man fell unconscious to the dirty floor. Tom approached Morfin's inert body, not without concealing the disgusted expression that twisted the fine features of his face. Tom kicked him, flipping him onto his back, and grabbed his wand. Then he stormed out of the shack, the rain pouring down on him again.
Aliena followed him out, but as she crossed the threshold, she toppled over and landed heavily on a tiled floor. She was no longer in the dingy, unsanitary little shack, but in a completely different place. The vestibule in which she had landed was clean and tastefully decorated. Rich tapestries adorned the walls and a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the steps of the grand staircase with soft light.
A knock on the door sounded again and a man crossed the room in front of her. Aliena's eyes widened and she shook her head. For a fraction of a second, she'd thought it was Tom, but it wasn't. The man was older, probably around forty, and headed for the door. He opened it, revealing a figure concealed beneath a long coat, strands of wet hair falling over his forehead.
Tom. It was Tom. And his eyes, black as night, flashed with anger.
"Who ... Who are you ?" the man stammered, recoiling.
"I suppose that you have a little idea, father," snapped Tom, the last word sounding like the worst insult in his mouth.
Aliena fluttered her eyelids slowly. It took her several seconds to regain consciousness and remember where she was. She groaned as she massaged her temples, in a vain attempt to stop the migraine that was piercing her skull.
He'd killed them all.
Tom had killed his own father, as well as his grandparents, even though to him, there was no real link between them. But that wasn't all. He had also carefully covered his tracks, making sure that his uncle was blamed and punished instead.
Aliena glanced to the empty vial in her hands. Her vision had been useless, it hadn't taught her anything new — Well, it had, but nothing useful. If Tom hadn't shown any signs of nervousness when she'd told him about the basilisk and the death of the young ravenclaw, it wasn't the death of his muggle family that was going to worry him.
She raged and grabbed the last vial from her bag. She took a long look at the inky black liquid through the glass. The most powerful scryers were able to direct their visions, to concentrate precisely on what they wanted to see and know, and even to have several in a row. When she was alive, her mother could do it. But she had also always told her to be careful, not to overestimate herself and to take her time. Except that she was no longer there to give her advice and help her, she was alone. Aliena was on her own.
Deep down, she knew she should have waited. Waited until she was safe in her dormitory at least, but she didn't give herself the chance to think about it any longer, or to change her mind, and popped the cork. Aliena swallowed the potion in one gulp with a grimace. The next moment, a throbbing pain burst through her head. She let out a groan of pain and clutched her face in her hands.
Hundreds of decomposing bodies lay beneath her feet. They were everywhere as far as the eye could see. The putrid smell of death invaded her nostrils and the air soon became unbreathable. She made her way up the mountain of corpses. More than once, she almost fell, slipping on faces and torsos, tripping over arms and legs. When she reached the top, a man had his back to her.
No, not a man. A monster. There was nothing human or mortal about him any more. He was no longer a man, but an obsessive creature, enslaved by the idea of immortality, blinded by his quest for power.
Dressed in a long black wizard's robe, a wand made of bone in his right hand, the dark wizard turned towards her. He had a bald head, a waxy, almost grey complexion and two red eyes that stared at her with an evil gleam. He twisted his mouth into a smile, dispelling any doubts she might have had before. When she still had hope that this man who haunted her nightmares and Tom wasn't the same person.
Except she'd been wrong.
Tom and him were two sides of the same coin. They were one and the same person.
The black wizard raised his wand towards her and a green beam hit her in the chest, sending her flying away. As she fell, Aliena heard the cries of suffering, pain and agony of many people. Images of slaughter raced through her head. Names whistled in her eardrums, but she didn't know them, had never heard them.
Hepzibah Smith - Dorcas Meadowes - Bertha Jorkins
All she knew was that he had killed them, like so many others.
Bones - Mckinnon - Potter
He had - will - killed entire families in his rise to power.
Her back hit the hard surface of the floor, knocking the air from her lungs. She felt a hot, sticky liquid soak her clothes. Aliena raised her hand. It was red, red with blood. She tried to stand up, but a weight prevented her from doing so, pinning her to the ground. She glanced worriedly at her chest and stiffened. A lifeless body lay on top of her, then another and another. She felt panic overcome her. She was trapped under dozens of bodies. She was going to die, suffocated by all those corpses and the blood pouring over her, seeping into her hair and mouth. The metallic taste stung her tongue. Aliena opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out and a black veil fell over her eyes.
