Loyal | Tom Riddle

12: He's Gone

Nikolai leaned against the stone castle wall, staring with blank eyes at where the horizon met the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.

With a slight tremor to his hand, he raised a cigarette to his lips and breathed in deeply, letting his lungs fill with something other than the suffocating air he was so used to.

He thought back to three hours before, when he had been safely seated on the window sill of that dusty abandoned classroom without a care in the world, and began to laugh. The more he thought of his day, the harder he laughed.

Pleading eyes. A scream that filled the chamber, reverberating off the stone walls and ceiling. The smell of freshly spilt blood, slowly spreading across the cracks criss-crossing the floor as the scarlet pool grew larger and larger. The screaming intensified, leaving a throbbing sensation in his head, but he couldn't stop... he couldn't stop... he couldn't...

Nikolai sank to his knees, laughing so hard that he was crying. The cigarette in his fingers fell out of his grasp, igniting a small fire in the dry grass. He laughed harder.

✧ ✧ ✧

His silhouette was frozen before the emerald fire like a statue hardening in the kiln, unmoving and rigid.

Not a sound came from either Arabella or the boy who stood near the hearth with his back to her, the shadows blending with his features and masking his identity from her questioning eyes.

She wanted to speak, desperately, but the silencing charm he had cast on her nearly half an hour ago still hadn't been lifted, so she resorted to studying him intently, trying to crack his code without the luxury of words.

Minutes crept by, told only by the ticking of the grandfather clock that stood proudly by an overstuffed bookcase. The room was in slight disarray, as it always was, but it felt comforting to Arabella, unlike the foreign figure that definitely wasn't John.

"Perhaps you're wondering why I've brought you here," he finally said quietly, clasping his pale hands behind his back.

Her eyes widened, and she was suddenly thankful for the fact that she had been prevented from speaking, otherwise she would have been cursing herself out loud. It was Malfoy, of course. She should have known that something was amiss when he wasn't with Tom -- but then how could she explain Nikolai's absence? Was he off somewhere else in the castle, doing his master's bidding?

Abraxas turned to face her, gliding towards her silently like a dark ghost, twisted yet undeniably beautiful. She refused to look at him, holding her chin up in burning defiance as he fixed his scrutinising glare on her.

"You're very proud, Arabella," he whispered. "But you have a weakness. You're a foolish girl, really, and it's quite a shame to see someone with such potential and such noble blood turn her back on destiny."

Her chin jutted out indignantly. She was proud, that she could concede, but she would never stray from the morals her family lacked.

"I know you are aware of what you're capable of," Malfoy continued, his voice kept low. "Just close your eyes and imagine all the power within you, imagine every ounce of strength you possess. You can be unstoppable, if you so choose."

Arabella could feel her eyelids growing leaden, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of closing them, if even for just a second. She had to show him that she was stronger, impervious to his will, true to herself...

"Dolorcordis."

Flashes of images ran through her mind suddenly, causing her to double over in pain as scene after scene was branded into her thoughts. First, there was her father, gaunt and sallow, shackled to dank stone walls. Then, there was her mother with hollow cheekbones and nearly translucent skin, bent over with her lips moving silently as if in some frantic last prayer; Nikolai, with menacing ire contorting his features as he brandished his wand with shaking hands, his eyes unrecognisable pools of soulless black; John, his face bruised and bloodied, weeping over some fallen form that stained pure snow crimson; Halia, gazing serenely out a window, seemingly entranced by the endless depths of the lake; Will, with despair and sorrow written across his face, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

Arabella was jolted back to reality, back to the eerie green flames that licked impossibly high in the hearth. Abraxas Malfoy's face hovered inches away from her own, hardened and unfeeling.

"That is your weakness," he hissed. "Soon enough, you will be tested, Arabella. You will be tried through tribulation, and your only option to survive is to--"

He began to cough, hacking so violently that he fell onto his knees. Frightened, Arabella reluctantly knelt down beside him, shaking his shoulders gently as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Malfoy's eyes opened suddenly, glowing, but the light extinguished itself as quickly as it had appeared.

Slowly, he ceased writhing on the floor and coughed once more, then sat up as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Arabella stared at him, terrified and speechless.

"Why are you here?" Malfoy asked, looking her up and down with blatant disdain.

She stammered, surprised to find her voice. "Y-you brought me here."

Before he could reply, the sound of the door unlocking met their ears. Their eyes met in wild panic, frenetically searching around the room for somewhere to hide, troubles momentarily forgotten.

Together, they crawled over the sofa and landed on the floor with a dull thud in a tangle of limbs. It was far closer than Arabella had ever planned on getting with Abraxas Malfoy, but she focused on the voices that entered the room along with footsteps.

"What shall we do?" Althea Bronston asked in a panicked voice.

"I don't know," Frederick Prewett replied quietly. "What can we tell them?"

The Head Girl sighed. "We must tell them the truth."

Abraxas nudged Arabella with his elbow, almost sending her to the floor again. She scowled up at him, but he was oblivious to all else but the conversation they were eavesdropping on.

"They'll be scared," Frederick warned sternly. "It'd be best not to tell them, for their own safety."

"Freddy," Althea pleaded. "They have the right to know. They knew him. We can't just -- just lie about it, can we?"

"Not telling them what will hurt them will keep them safe," the Head Boy insisted.

"A lie by omission is still a lie," Althea chided. "If you won't, then I will."

There was a scuffling sound, as if she were heading for the door but he had stopped her.

"Althea," Frederick said so softly that both Malfoy and Arabella had to strain to hear him, "I'd like to tell them as much as you do, but I don't think they'll handle it very well at all. The culprit is still on the loose, mind you, so not even we are safe."

"A student was tortured and has left the school, Frederick!" she cried. "And not just any student, no. It was a Prefect, one of our own."

He muttered something indistinguishable, which was followed by a scoff.

"John Hargreaves has left Hogwarts, Frederick! He's left to go fight in the Muggle war! Does that mean anything to you, anything at all?" Althea nearly shouted. "He was tortured, for Merlin's sake!"

Arabella slid to the floor, staring blankly at the wall. John. Her heart sank into her stomach, sending a bitterness coursing through her veins like a poison that drained her of every hopeful thought.

He was gone.

\\

As per usual, what do you think happened?

All will be revealed soon enough 😉

Today's Question: Who is your favourite Harry Potter character?

I love Fred and George immensely, and Draco, of course. His character development is unreal.

Hope you're having a nice weekend!

-o