Tom Marvolo Riddle. The most infamous dark wizard of all time. His legendary rise to power as the Dark Lord will forever strike fear in the hearts of those who hear the tale. Still, little is known of Tom's life before his transformation into Voldem...
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Tom sat alone in the Great Hall, prodding the steak and kidney pie on the plate in front of him with his fork. He was lost in thought, contemplating the events of almost three weeks ago.
The night in the Shrieking Shack replayed like a film constantly in his mind. Fenrir Grayback would have killed Ellison given the chance. That, he was sure of. But what Tom wasn't sure of was why he reacted the way he had. He had been consumed with rage when he had descended the staircase to see Grayback's hands clasped around her throat and he had lost count of how many curses he had cast at the mutt before he had finally stopped. But why?
That seemed to be the ever present question concerning Ellison. He had been faced with that exact question from the men he had met in the Shack that night. He had simply explained that a Hogwarts student found dead at the hands of a werewolf would have only complicated things. That of course, was true.
Tom could only imagine what the ever watchful eye of Dumbledore would conclude if Ellison had been killed. It would have undoubtedly put a hold on any plans Tom had had. But was that why he had saved her? Were his actions simply to cover his own tracks? He wanted desperately to believe so. But something told him that hadn't been the case; that there was more to the story than he cared to admit to himself. He had felt something that night. Something he had never felt for himself, much less anyone else. Fear.
He had feared for her safety ... for her life. But why? Why had her wellbeing been so important to him that he had jeopardized everything he had worked for? Grayback had been infuriated when he had awoken from the unconscious state Tom had left him in. It had taken a good bit of persuasion, and intimidation, on Tom's part to convince him to aid in his plans. Tom couldn't risk everything for her again. He wouldn't.
Tom was pulled away from his thoughts at the sound of plates hitting the table. He looked up just in time to see Avery and Lestrange take a seat across from him.
"So, when's the next meeting?" Avery asked as he shoveled his own helping of steak and kidney pie into his mouth.
"Would you keep your voice down?" Tom instinctively glanced over his shoulder before glaring back across the table at the pudgy boy sitting across from him. The Great Hall was almost empty, but he wouldn't risk anyone overhearing them.
"Sorry," Avery mumbled through a mouth full of food. Tom grimaced at the sight of him. Avery wasn't the brightest bulb in the shed, but he was loyal, as was Lestrange. That was what made them both such good followers. They did as he asked without question.
"We won't be having another meeting until the end of the year," Tom replied in a low whisper.
"End of the year? But it's only November!" Lestrange spoke up.
"I know what month it is," Tom shot back. Avery and Lestrange had arrived only minutes before and they were already wearing on his patience. "It's too much of a risk to meet again-"
