Mine || Tom Riddle

Chapter Twelve

You didn't speak to him for the rest of break. You did not question why he hadn't gone after his family, you did not question why he hadn't spoken a word abut it, and he was oddly thankful for that. He wasn't sure how he could explain the insane joy he was feeling from murdering three people and sending another to Azkaban without sounding completely insane. Though you of all people would be able to understand. 

He had still not been able to process the fact that you were not human. He wasn't sure why, it wasn't that surprising, and it made sense, but he was annoyed he had not seen it by himself. He was also annoyed you hadn't told him earlier. There was something about the knowledge that made you that much more alluring, more unique. There was no one in the world who was like you, and you were his, even if you didn't know it yet. 

He fiddled with the ring on his finger as he gazed out of the Hogwarts' Express window. You had left his company when they had gotten onto the train, mentioning you had seen a friend. He wondered who else knew your secret. Zara, perhaps? Of course the other girl was so nosy she might have found out by herself. Did any of the professors know? Surely Dumbledore must have known something was different about you. Or maybe the old man wasn't as smart as he had once thought. Maybe his biases would keep him from finding out the secrets that lay within the school he taught. 

There were also times when he wondered if you were using him as much as he was using you. The way that you would tell him just enough to keep his interests forever piqued, but never enough to actually come to a conclusion of any sort. Certainly the way he was oddly drawn to you had to be some sort of manipulation. He laughed at the notion. 

He was a master manipulator. On the outside he was charming, attractive, kind, thoughtful, humble, star student. Teachers adored him, younger students and older students flocked to him. Girls, and quite a few boys, were drawn to his appearance. He was known to stand up for those who didn't quite fit in. He was a Quidditch player, with a bright future in anything he would choose. Yet deep down he knew he was really not what anyone thought. He was now a murderer, and some childish part of him wondered if people would be able to tell. 

*

When Tom arrived back in the castle he went straight to his dormitory. Luckily the other boys were not there to interrogate him, and he had a few moments of peace, which he used to hide the Gaunt ring. He thought it would be a bad idea to carry it around with him in plain sight, not knowing what the symbol on the stone meant, or who might recognize it.

He was so occupied by this that he didn't see you get dragged off to Dumbledore's office. In fact, it wasn't until William Avery and Abraxas Malfoy walked into the dorm that he knew there was something wrong at all. "I wonder what happened."

"My father said her uncle was furious."

"When is that man ever not? He's a menace."

"Tom do you know what's happening with Ivetta?"

He wheeled around, no longer ignoring them. "What do you mean, Avery?"

"I mean Dumbledore grabbed her right when we were getting off the train, I'm surprised you didn't see it, half the school did." He was already halfway out the door before the boys could tell him anything else. Dumbledore's office door was closed, but a quick charm and he could hear everything that was going on. He was relieved to hear that your uncle wasn't there, surely he couldn't deign to go down to Hogwarts for an issue such as this. He was confused why Dumbledore was handling this. Surely it was something Slughorn should do, as the head of house. 

He quieted his thoughts as he heard you speak. "I was with a friend in Russia, Professor. As I've said before." It was odd hearing the difference in wizards and muggles referring to the country. He supposed muggle wars did not affect wizarding worlds. He was, however, relieved that you were not giving anything away.