Taming The Serpent [Tom Riddle/Tomione]

11. Battle of Hogwarts, 1945 [Part 2]

Black robes swayed swiftly as the tall wizard strolled down the long, dimly lit corridors. A stone wall faced him once he stopped, though completely bare. "Salazar", upon mumbling the password, a passage was revealed, leading inside a large common room. It was a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs, extending partway under the lake, giving the light in the room a green tinge. It was decorated with tapestries featuring the adventures of famous Medieval Slytherins.

He stopped by the fireplace, twirling his ring on his finger eagerly - he had put it back on. The bright emerald flames contrasted against his black eyes, dancing and interlacing in his irises, as a malicious grin formed on his pale lips.

"Tom?"

Tom Riddle turned in a haste, a scowl now present on his face as he glared at who had dared call him the filthy muggle's name. Avery gulped, lowering his gaze to the floor. "What is it that you wish to tell me, Avery?"

The blond gawked at him cautiously, before descending the spiral stairs from his dorm and to the black leathered sofa. "My-my Lord, it has been a while since you've been in the dungeons. Where have you been these days?"

Tom's face twisted in anger. He strolled forward, "Are you mad? Do not address me as that name inside these walls." He looked around, making sure no other Slytherin happened to be eavesdropping. Avery lowered his face in both fear and shame. "As for not spending time here Avery, I believe that is none of your concern."

Avery nodded.

Loud footsteps could be heard just outside the passage, soon followed by wild platinum blond hair and another Slytherin boy. Both dropped on the armchairs patting madly, a horrified look on their faces.

"Malfoy? Rookwood? Care to explain?"

Rookwood shifted in his seat, directing his glare toward a curious Riddle. Malfoy was still trying to calm himself down, staring absentmindedly at the floor, his mouth agape. "Well?" Asked Riddle impatiently.

"Slughorn... he's dead," Augustus Rookwood rose from his seat, a tall, pock-marked boy with greasy hair. "The Quidditch Pitch burnt down to flames --It's hell outside."

Several gasps echoed around the room from the Slytherin students lazily walking out their dormitories to see what the mayhem was about. Most of them started arguing among each other, others even cried, while a few girls sneaked back to their dorms, trembling with news. Riddle glanced back at his ring. He could feel someone's stare burning in his skin, and without as much as one last word, Tom strolled out the dungeons, wand in his hand and ready to face his opponent.

Once he reached the Entrance Hall, the destruction that had been caused so far was apparent. A messy line of hysteric students were following the Headmaster, Armando Dippet, toward the Great Hall, all of them with burnt robes and mild injuries. Professor Kettleburn, the Care of Magical Creatures' teacher, was helping lead them as well, half of his pale face was burnt and unrecognizable.

"THIS WAY! THIS WAY!" Dippet shouted.

Riddle grimaced once Madam Fuchsia Matilda grabbed his arm, pulling him along with them. "Come my dear boy, come." She screeched. "Oh by Merlin, what a lucky man you are. Not a single scratch on you."

Tom didn't even bother telling her he hadn't been on the Pitch, nodding his head pointedly and allowing her to pull him along. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was dark and scattered with stars, and below it the four long House tables were lined and the dishevelled students plopped down, awaiting Madam Fuchsia's medical care. Here and there shone the pearly white figures of the school ghosts. Every eye, living and dead was fixed upon the Headmaster, who was speaking from the raised platform at the top of the Hall.

"Settle down, settle down." His voice was hoarse and strained. "You will be well taken care of. The Great Hall's doors will be locked. No more harm shall come upon any of you... The Professors will be outside and fight against those who have attacked us."

Many of the students looked petrified. However, as Tom managed to step away from a very troubled matron, Fleamont Potter stood up at the Gryffindor table and shouted; "Seventh years could stay and fight? We have trained all this years."

There was a roar of 'yea' from the Gryffindor table, but loud protests from the others. Armando Dippet shook his head in denial, watching with a small smile as Potter sat back down with an air of defeat. "As gracious and courageous as your offer may be Mr. Potter, I'm afraid we can't allow any student to risk their lives."

"And with all the ones we've already lost..."

Tom moved up the Hall alongside the Slytherin table, avoiding all looks. He had just reached the great, double-doors when the Headmaster spoke once more.

"We have already placed protection around the castle," Professor Dippet was saying, "but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask of you Prefects and Head Boy and Girl to please, direct any other students outside toward the Great Hall..."

Tom didn't even wait for him to finish, or for the rest of Prefects and the Head Girl to join him; he bolted forward, reached for the handle and strolled out graciously. He saw a few teachers rushing toward the Entrance Halls. They looked like they were fighting: red and green sparks hovered around the figures. A lifeless body caught his attention, and further closer observation behind the protection of a spell and window, he recognized it as Slughorn.

"GET INSIDE!" A husky voice shouted, followed by a roar of yells.

Hooded wizards swarmed inside the Entrance Hall. Before he could be spotted, Tom rushed up the moving stairs, wandering around the halls silently. He saw two shadows on the brick wall and quickly hid on the shadows. The two tall figures stopped in front of Dumbledore's office. The Slytherin boy grimaced once they removed their hoods. Grindelwald's golden hair shone in the window's reflection.

"Evening, my dear brother."

Tom leapt forward at the sight of Grindelwald, catching his attention. Ariana noticed her leader's hesitance and followed his glance, smirking menaciously at Tom. She glanced back at Grindelwald, nodding her head slightly. Tom was frozen in his place, wand held tight in his hand, the Bulgarian's eyes fixed on his shiny ring. Tom noticed it and smirked in satisfaction, turning on his feet and walking down the corridor, fully aware of the tall Wizard following behind him.