the seven virtues [tom riddle]

chapter thirty-four

13.7 k words because i did not want to separate this into two chapters. take your time reading it if it is too long.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

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TRIGGER WARNINGS: Be advised that this chapter contains graphic descriptions of death, gore, and a bunch of birds dying (sorry).

There was a proverb that before every storm ravaged the holy lands, there would be blissful peace.

As her sinister eyes trailed the courtyard, Varya wondered if whoever had first come up with that idiom was an outright fool. There was no peace on the faces of those who sharpened their swords, nor was there bliss for those who ran through the gardens to disperse healing potions for the soldiers. Terror was an ever-present mask—a nasty scar that ran down the gentle visage of the youth. Alphard Black had kept his promise in recruiting several Hogwarts students for the upcoming battle, and now, in the first rays of dawn, they had gathered at the front of the castle.

There was a certain tranquillity in nature, the witch discerned. Snowflakes paraded down towards the sullied soil, covering the withering flora in ivory rapture. The coldness of January seemed ruthless, and the sky eclipsed in casts of violet and lapis as the sun peeked from its nest. Amid a moribund scenery, Scarlet Norberg instructed her family on the archer positions they would take. She had devised a strategy on protecting the Viaduct and had arranged the Blood Coven as a defense barrier on top of the stone walls.

"I found something," sounded a raspy voice from behind Varya, and the witch turned to face Tom Riddle's impassive expression.

They had barely slept through the night, flipping pages of old grimoires to find the best linking spell. An inky mess of waves made the boy's appearance seem rumpled, yet his features carried no sign of lethargy. Tom Riddle managed to suppress any indication of humanity, from slight discomfort at not having eaten since the previous day, to the lack of lilac patches underneath his eyes. He sat at the head of the table, surrounded by stacks of books that fenced his figure, and Varya's mind suddenly flashed to the first day they had met at the library.

His back was arched forward over the cover of an ancient volume, a finger trailing the name with interest as he read the words out loud, "Dark Artifact and Methods of Conjuring."

Varya pushed herself from the window panel, striding over to the boy and watching him flip the pages until he found what he was looking for. The witch eyed the spell, glossing over the incantation and directly jumping to the possible side effects, loopholes, and threats of such sorcery.

She winced, "It seems dangerous."

Tom furrowed his eyebrows, "As most dark magic usually is."