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OCTOBER 1944

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A boy with a lightning bolt scar.

The lifeless body of a woman with long red hair.

A name, Voldemort — He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

Aliena couldn't hold back her nausea any longer. She twisted onto her side and vomited. She winced, her cheeks streaked with tears. Whether it was the pain or what she'd seen, she couldn't tell exactly. Probably a bit of both.

She remained in this position for long minutes, suffering the violent contractions of her stomach. The only thing she was aware of was the bitter taste that invaded her mouth and her wheezing. Everything else was a blur, so she had no idea how she had managed to get out of the classroom. In truth, she couldn't even remember. One minute she was half lying on the stone floor, the next she was wandering like a ghost through the dark corridors of the castle.

She walked along the hallways, barely aware of her steps. She almost fell several times, stumbling against the uneven floor, reminding her all too well of how many times she'd almost fallen climbing the mountain of corpses in her vision. The bodies haunted her mind, she kept seeing them over and over again.

Aliena still managed to form a coherent thought, she couldn't stay like that. She had to get help, she had to tell someone. She didn't know who, but she knew she couldn't keep it to herself. It was too much. It was too much for her to handle on her own.

She climbed the first set of steps, which left her breathless. She felt her legs wobble under her weight, threatening to send her tumbling backwards. Trembling, beads of sweat sliding down her forehead, she struggled on. Aliena didn't know where she found the strength to continue, but she forced herself to reach the landing. Her eyelids were heavy, and they fluttered several times, fighting against the sleep that threatened to engulf her. She couldn't pass out here. She had to keep going, she just couldn't remember why. She leaned against a wall and closed her eyes, before feeling her body tilt forward. But her face never met the cold, hard surface of the floor. She was vaguely aware of an inflexible grip around her waist. The next moment, she toppled over into the darkness.


When Aliena opened her eyes again, she had no idea what time it was, or even where she was. The only thing she knew was that a horrible headache was threatening to smash her skull to smithereens. She ran a hand over her burning, sweat-soaked forehead before glancing around. Through the glass ceiling, she can see the night sky, full of clouds that intermittently hide the full moon.

She squinted, before suddenly widening her eyes. The young woman stiffened. As far as she knew, there was no room where she could see the sky through the ceiling, with the exception of the great hall and the greenhouses, but she knew she wasn't in either of them. She tried to concentrate, but her memories of the evening were hazy. She wasn't in the classroom where she had taken refuge to carry out her ritual.

She remembered falling in the corridors, but she definitely wasn't there either. She was lying on a soft velvet sofa. She sat up suddenly and let out a plaintive moan. She felt dizzy, nauseous, too small and too large all at once. She was afraid her head would explode, her whole body would explode, it was all too much for her. Everything was getting mixed up in her head and she was on the verge of another crise.

"If you throw up on yourself, don't expect me to clean you up."

Aliena stiffened, goosebumps spreading across the skin of her arms. This voice, it was—

She risked a glance to the side. Tom was there, leaning nonchalantly against the edge of a table. Hands in his trouser pockets, he was staring at her with undisguised disdain.

"Where are we ... ?" she asked in a plaintive voice. She hated the way her voice sounded weak, making her look even more miserable. And more than anything, she hated feeling like this just in front of him.

"Hogwarts," Tom answered as if it were obvious.

"There's no such room at Hogwarts," she replied sharply.

"That you believe."

Aliena remained silent, keeping her acid remarks to herself. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm the tremors in her body. Finally, she sighed and looked around. The walls were covered with shelves full of books. Stone pillars, surrounded by ivy, supported the two upper levels. She held back a disdainful sniff. Tom was making fun of her. They definitely weren't in the school library, or even in the restricted section so, for Merlin's sake, where were they ?

"I'll ask you again, where are we ? Where have you taken me ?" Aliena said, her anger rising.

"At Hogwarts, as I've already told you," he insisted, slightly annoyed. "In a secret room that only appears when you need it and changes to suit your needs. You're in my version of the Room of Requirement."

"No cage to lock people in ? I'm almost disappointed."

"It's not a prison, you can leave whenever you like," Tom tempted her.

"I suppose this is where you found the book you gave me," she huffed.

The young woman glanced back at Tom, who still hadn't moved. He was staring at her, impassive. Acidic bile rose in her throat, but it was nothing like the bile she had vomited earlier.

No, this one was full of bitterness, resentment, against herself. She felt stupid, and if she'd been alone, she would have cursed herself aloud, but she wouldn't give that pleasure to her one and only spectator. She didn't want to look any more stupid than she was. Because she must have been, not to have made the connection earlier between the handsome man standing in front of her, whose glow from the candles reflected off his profile, plunging the other half of his face into darkness, and the red-eyed monster from her visions. Aliena knew they were connected somehow. She just hadn't understood how, or she had covered her face and deliberately chosen not to believe it, so as not to have to face the harsh reality. But now she could no longer pretend. She could no longer ignore it.

Tom Riddle was a killer. A true monster.

"What did you see ?"

Tom's deep, suave voice drew her out of her thoughts. He slowly crossed his arms against his chest and raised his head a little higher, in an attitude which clearly suggested that he was superior to her. And that irritated her even more. She gave him an evil look, and a sharp remark stung the tip of her tongue, but she barely held it back. The image of the black wizard with the red eyes superimposed itself on the boy's silhouette. Was he going to become a monster, or was he already one ? He had already killed. It wasn't the first time. There was nothing innocent about him any more.

"Don't tell me you didn't have visions, given the state you were in when I found you. I even suspect that you wanted to push your limits by having several, to make your ritual more profitable."

"You're a monster," she snapped back.

"Is that all ?" he sneered. "I'm a bit disappointed, you've got me used to better Bletchey."

Aliena looked up at him and their eyes met.

"Why did you kill them all ?" her voice was a barely audible whisper.

Tom's eyebrows furrowed. "Who do you speak about ?"

A cold shiver ran up her spine. She couldn't confront him about murders he hadn't committed yet. And why all these murders anyway ? How could someone who was so keen on immortality have so little regard for the lives of others ? And above all, why was she having visions about this, about the future — No, not the future, buthis. It was always about him.

But why her ? What was the purpose, the hidden meaning of all this ? That she should do something to stop him ? Stop him by opposing him for the rest of her life ? The burden would be too much for her shoulders alone to bear. Tom wouldn't let her, she'd had a taste of it in her visions. She still remembered the impact of his spell against her chest that had propelled her into the air. He'd get her out of the way as easily as pulling a weed.

She swallowed hard.

She couldn't ask him about it, couldn't let him know how far she had seen his future. So she chose to steer the discussion onto less slippery ground, where she could hope to get out of it with less difficulty. "Your father and his family. Why kill them all ? What did it get you ? I'm pretty sure you didn't get any personal satisfaction out of it, and that's perhaps the worst of it."

"I wanted nothing to do with them," Tom replied darkly, in a voice so cold she shivered.

"Please, you didn't have any. No one ever made the connection between you and them."

"He abandoned me. He abandoned me and my mother, he deserved nothing more."

Aliena stiffened at his words.

"I wanted nothing to do with this filthy-muggle," he continued "I already share his blood and his name, and that's too much."

"So, you are indeed a half-blood," she said, more to herself.

"Don't insult me, Bletchey," Tom warned her darkly.

"It's not an insult, it's a fact," she defended herself. "And if you think no one else suspects it, you're wrong and it's you you're insulting. I thought you were smarter than that, Riddle. You can't have been a muggle-born, otherwise you wouldn't be in slytherin."

"Of course I'm not a muggle-born," he hissed threateningly.

"But the chances of you being a pureblood with an unknown name were also very slim."

Tom's jaw contracted slightly, and he glared deadly at her.

"Not everyone wears their pathetic family heritage as proudly as you do."

"Are you trying to insult me ? By insinuating what ? That my blood is dirty, or rather, my mother's ? You sound like Nott," she scoffed. "And for what it's worth, my blood isn't dirty, nor was my mother's. My grandmother's, on the other hand ... Well, by your standards, it probably would be. Her father was a muggle, but in the end, it's only blood. Blood is just blood, it means nothing, it doesn't characterise who you are. But if you're really ashamed of yours, just take your mother's name instead of killing everyone around you."

Tom sneer coldly, making her frown. "Believe me, there's no glory in being likened to her either. Her name lost all its fame a long time ago."

Her gaze fell on the black stone ring on his left ring finger, its contours shining in the candlelight. This led to another question, the answer to which she already knew, but wanted to be sure. "Who was he ? The man you stole the ring from ?"

Tom followed her gaze, looked down at his hand, then smirked mischievously.

"Morfin Gaunt. He was my uncle on my mother's side."

She looked up at him. The name was vaguely, strangely, familiar.

"Gaunt like ... Like the pure-blood family that is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight ?"

Tom nodded.

"And known to be the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin," he added with a superior tone.

Aliena held back a sly smile. Salazar must be turning over in his grave, he who had always advocated the purity of blood, he who had always been against muggle-born, he who had even brought a monster into the castle to hunt them down, to kill them, and whose last living heir was a half-blood. How ironic.

"You're proud to be the heir of Slytherin, but you despise the family thanks to which it's possible ? Hum." she teased Tom before standing up.

The young woman leaned on the armrest to straighten up, wincing at the effort it took, and especially at the stabbing pain that burned every muscle in her body. She felt like letting go and falling back onto the sofa. She'd probably have done it if it didn't mean staying alone with the devil himself.

She had to get out of here.

"You should stay a little longer, get some rest. You look scary," Tom said, wrinkling his nose.

Aliena glowered at him. "No way."

"I suppose you won't be thanking me for helping you either ?"

"I didn't need your help." she spit angrily.

"That's not exactly the impression I got when I found you half-unconscious in the corridors. What would you have done if it had been someone else ?"

"I wish it had been."

Tom raised an eyebrow, tilted his head slightly to one side, flicking a few strands of hair across his forehead, before smiling. A narcissistic, carnivorous smile. The smile of a predator who knew that he had won the hunt, that he had cornered his prey and was about to sink his fangs into its flesh at any moment. Aliena suppressed a shudder.

"Oh really ? And what would you have done if someone else had found this ?" he asked, taking a small vial of dark liquid out of one of his pockets.

The young woman's throat suddenly went dry and if she hadn't held on to the sofa, she would surely have lost her balance. She tightened her grip, turning her knuckles white. Tom was holding one of her vials between his fingers. A vial of the potion she had prepared this evening. She looked at the table behind him and saw her bag lying carelessly on it.

Tom had found her hiding place. He had found it and obviously retrieved her things. She hoped he'd also been thoughtful enough to clean up after her, as she hadn't been able to do it herself, far too distressed by her visions.

"I hope you've cleaned up after yourself," Aliena hissed through her teeth.

"Who do you think I am? I'm not as careless as you," his words had the effect of a slap in the face.

She had been careless, imprudent even, and she deserved the remark. If she hadn't wanted to do too much, if she hadn't pushed her limits, she would be in her dormitory right now, and not in Riddle's hands.

She forced herself to lift her chin and staggered forward. "You've got them all, I suppose ?" Tom nodded. "You can keep them, they won't be of any use to you. Although, you could always try, and if you could choke on them at the same time," she retorted dryly as she walked past him.

She didn't try to snatch the vial from his hands, she had enough pride not to try. She wasn't that desperate, and she knew it wouldn't do any good. Tom was just doing it to taunt her, to get on her nerves. And it was certainly working.

Stupid, stupid little girl.

She chastised herself inwardly. She had been so stupid. She'd thought she'd outsmarted him by disappearing before dinner so he wouldn't follow her, wishing him luck in finding her if he had to search every nook and cranny of the castle. Which he'd had to do, and well too. He had succeeded. She thought back to what he had said earlier, fortunately it was he who had come across her things, and not a teacher. At the very least, she would avoid a harsh interrogation, expulsion and maybe worse.

Dark magic was forbidden and always came with a price.

She moved forward cautiously and reached for her bag, but Tom was quicker and grabbed her arm, forcing her to face him. "What do you think you're doing ?"

"I'm leaving," she declared, taking a step backwards.

"Please, you can barely stand."

She could hear the irritation in his voice.

Aliena wriggled out of his grip, staggering slightly. "Anywhere will be better than here, withyou."

She lifted her head and met Tom's black pupils.

"Except that you're stuck with me now," Tom smirked, leaning towards her. "Don't think I'm going to let you off that easily, you still haven't answered my questions. You've obviously learnt a lot from the book I gave you, so I'm waiting for you to return the appliance to me, which is only fair, isn't it ?"

"If you believe that —"

"I don't believe anything, Bletchey, I know it," he cut her off. "And it's not like I'm giving you a choice, either. It's been fun watching you try to avoid me so far, but I'm tired of your little game. I'm giving you a reprieve, because you look like you're going to faint again, and I've already given enough for tonight. But afterwards, I'll come and you can tell me all about it. Good night Bletchey, you need it."

She grabbed her bag and sped off. She headed for the door, which she opened without trying to be discreet, and glanced around the corridors. With the pale stone walls, devoid of tapestries and portraits, she assumed that she was indeed still in the castle - upstairs - but she didn't know where exactly. She turned and glanced over her shoulder. Tom was already watching her.

"You want to know something, Riddle ? You're chasing a fantasy. You'll be walking beside your own death for the rest of your life. Horcruxes or not. You won't delay the inevitable, and that will be your downfall," she spat before walking down the corridor, disappearing into the darkness of the castle.