For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Four: Training

The rest of the Knights of Walpurgis had left the Forbidden Forest, lurking like shadows with their black robes hanging fluidly to their bodies. Gwen had returned to the castle with them, following in the single-file line with her head down and lips sealed in a neutral expression.

The temperature had fallen drastically and the mist had only become thicker in the Forbidden Forest. Two lone figures were now all that remained in the clearing, silhouetted against the black backdrop of the forest.

Tom and Quillish stood facing one another, master and servant. Quillish stood with his head bowed in submission, his hands clasped behind his back. Gooseflesh prickled his skin, not from the chilling air, but from the intimidating boy that stood in front of him, equal in height but greater in pure power. And definitely unafraid to use it.

Tom was a cobra ready the strike, his eyes narrowed to slits as he stared cynically at the follower before him. Quillish kept his head down, refusing to meet his gaze. Tom stood rigidly, his back as straight as a rim rod as if he was posed to give a long and influential political speech.

He wore a black blazer and slacks, dressed well compared to the lowly coal colored coats his followers wore. He had allowed a smirk to grace his lips when he first laid eyes on Gwen lost in the forest, dressed in her Hogwarts attire from her Prefect duties. The schoolgirl outfit looked out of place on a body capable of powerful magic, and looked even more out of place amidst the tangled vines and creepers of the Forbidden Forest.

And using Legilimency, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find Quillish thinking about her attire as well. Except his thoughts wandered to what she'd look like without her uniform on. The very fact that Quillish harbored such pathetic urges made Tom want to strangle him.

Anger fueling him, Tom finally addressed the boy in front of him.

"Do you know why I held you back, Selwyn?"

His voice was liquid mercury, a shard of silver to the heart. It was the fangs of a venomous snake that released the deadliest toxin into your veins and made you paralyzed with fear before it viciously attacked and killed you as its prey.

"No, my Lord," Quillish answered.

One thing Tom actually admired in Quillish Selwyn was that he was not a coward. He loyally completed his duties as a Knight because he saw mudbloods for what they were—inferior degenerates that should never wield the gift of magic.

However, Tom also despised that same quality in him. Quillish Selwyn did not fear him the way the other boys did. He was Head Boy, one of the most popular students at Hogwarts, and belonged to a family with a solid reputation and plenty of money. He was entitled and used to people succumbing to his way, whether it be in the form of girls sleeping in his bed, or feeble swots completing his homework.

And that slight sense of superiority allowed small splinters of doubt to form-doubts Tom had sensed festering in the very back of Quillish's mind—doubts in the Knights of Walpurgis and doubts in Tom himself.

And that was just not simply acceptable.

Tom allowed a feigned befallen look to fall across his face. He let out a deep, dramatic sigh as he sauntered toward the boy who stood obediently in front of him, head tucked in submission. The feeling of being feared gave Tom a sense of excitement.

Slowly, Tom spoke. He was ready to attack. But first he would play with his prey.

"This term has brought nothing but disappointments from you, Selwyn. You fall behind in your courses because you think you can recover without effort. You drink yourself to sleep at your moronic parties. I've had complaints from the others that they find you slumped next to a drunken girl in bed, sometimes saying that you don't want to go to meetings," he paused, allowing his words to seep in like poison. It was part of the game.