Loyal | Tom Riddle

42: Blood of Blood

A/N: Please vote and comment! Comments especially motivate me to write 💕

Tom sat in an empty classroom in the North Tower, staring blankly at the wall before him. The ancient stones, so carefully aligned and just now beginning to display signs of decay, reminded him of the old ways, before the pure mingled with the unworthy. Although the wizards who had built this castle were long dead, their descendants continued to walk its halls -- and their number dwindled with every year. It was a problem he was determined to solve, no matter the cost.

Outside the tower, the wind whistled, forecasting spring showers. Students milled about the castle grounds, most of them rushing towards the heavy, oak doors to avoid the upcoming downpour.

Their voices were a dull murmur in Tom's mind. He closed his eyes in concentration and filtered through the background noise, searching for one fifth-year in particular. Legilimency from such a great distance exerted his energies -- even more than his current, secretive exploits did -- but it pleased him to know that with each day his powers grew stronger. His plan would soon be set into motion, if things continued progressing at the current level.

With a small smile of satisfaction, Tom found his target and latched on.

✧   ✧   ✧

"He's gone and lost his mind," said Nikolai as he pushed through a crowd of third-years headed for Care of Magical Creatures.

"You think I don't know that?" retorted Abraxas, struggling to keep pace with him.

"Just double-checking, mate," Nikolai replied over his shoulder, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "One never knows where your head's at when my sister isn't around for you to make googly eyes at."

Malfoy glowered at his friend. "At least nobody thinks I've gone off the deep end."

"Who says I haven't?" The older Travers twin's mouth stretched into a lopsided grin, a mischievous light glinting in his eye.

The two of them continued through the length of the main hall, headed towards the dungeons. To passersby, they seemed like any other pair of friends headed back to their dormitory, but their topic of conversation proved anything but ordinary.

"How can we stop him?" asked Nikolai suddenly, once they passed Slughorn's classroom. "I'd like to knock that irritatingly massive head he's got clean off his bony little shoulders, y'know. He wouldn't even know what happened, since his head is shoved so far up his own arse that I can see his hairline whenever he talks."

Abraxas' shoulders slumped. "I dont know if we can stop him. He's... too powerful."

"Thinking like that only lets 'the Lord' do as he pleases," muttered Nikolai, pausing to grunt the Slytherin password ("mort serpentine") at the dungeon wall. "Even the Muggles are restricting the power of their lords and ladies. Why can't we do the same?" He let out a short laugh.

The stones slid away from each other once he said the password, revealing the murkily-lit common room bedecked in varying shades of emerald and silver. A green fire crackled ominously in the hearth, and the only other light came from the windows offering a view of the mysterious depths of Black Lake.

A group of other fifth- and six-years sat around a table, their backs hunched as they whispered furtively to each other. Nikolai could identify Edmund Mulciber and Tantum Yaxley -- causing him to inadvertently sneer in their direction.