The Tale of Azure - Book I: Shades of Green and Blue

Chapter Seventeen: The Serpent-tongue's Legacy

A/N: Well, I never wrote from an antagonist's perspective before so I am hoping I got his personality and way of thinking right. I won't deny he is a fascinating villain, more than his older psychopathic self.

Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter", Sinbad (the DreamWorks movie) and that includes the plethora of characters from the books and the movies.

The young man calmly walked into the bookshop he had gone to as a child, eyes looking with mild interest at the volumes on the shelves. The shop was well illuminated by the old lamps inside, contrasting with the ever grey sky that London was known for. Unlike the other times in which he had simply borrowed the books – the unseen owner did never pose any objections so who was he to not refuse – he had gone to"Pomum Aurantium: Books and Writing Supplies" to buy a journal as a present to himself before he returned to Hogwarts tomorrow.

Today was also the last day of August and the eve of his new life as a House Prefect.

Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle was in a "celebrating mood"; two days ago, he had received an owl from the Headmaster himself that said he had been chosen as a Prefect. This would give him the necessary authority to discipline other students and also continuing to pursue his goal: the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.

And, for that, he needed to look into that defiant witch's memories.

If it was not for her usefulness, she would have crossed the Jordan by now.

The corners of his lips quirked upwards momentarily, his mask back in its place as he eyed the Muggle at the counter who was writing something with a pencil. Her name was Olivia Rivers, the second eldest child of a family of thirteen siblings raised by a single mother who he had yet to meet, along with her thirteen brothers and sisters who were scattered in several parts of the world doing who knows what.

Not that any of this mattered to him of course.

"Hello, Tom!" The Muggle greeted affably, her blue eyes leaving the parchment to look at him. "You have grown up a bit again. Are you now...fifteen?"

"Yes, Miss Rivers," he replied, hands holding a book entitled "Romeo and Juliet", fingers idly defoliating the pages. He had read the play once and he had been thoroughly unimpressed. The main characters were love-stricken fools who had chosen to die instead of living.

Love...huh? He snapped shut the book with anger before putting back in its respective shelf. Pathetic. Just like that almost-Squib, Merope Gaunt.

"What's in a name?" The Muggle quoted calmly, blue eyes locking with his own. "'That which we call a rose...'"

"...' By any other name would smell as sweet'. Act II, Scene II.'" He completed automatically, berating himself for doing it. Sometimes, his eidetic memory got the best of him. Given the fact he had devoured book after book during his childhood, he could recite an entire paragraph by heart, whether he found the book interesting or the exact opposite.

It was such a shame the shop didn't sell books on Inferi and curses.

As if. You are in a Muggle bookshop, his inner voice said snidely.

"Would you do it? Choosing death over life?" The Muggle asked him.

He made a pondering noise before replying with a question of his own, "In a world where the weak are devoured by the strong, where power is all that matters, is that not a wild goose chase?"

"So you believe in survival of the fittest? Or let me rephrase it; self-preservation and running from which is unavoidable instead of facing it?"

"If by that you mean Death, then yes," he answered smoothly, dark brown eyes looking at the curious creature inside of an aquarium. It had a greenish skin and resembled a cross between a Kraken and a snake. "There is no such thing as 'unavoidable' if you are powerful enough."

I am destined for great things, you silly Muggle, he sneered inwardly, One day, you will also bow to the one who shall become the greatest sorcerer in the world.

"Everyone is entitled to their own opinion," the Muggle said diplomatically, "Many cultures may have their versions of Death, despite I do not think much about it."

At this, Tom could not help but let out a chuckle, his hand reaching for a black leathered journal. Simple and practical. A bit pricy though – three pounds equalled four galleons and two sickles in Wizarding currency. "What do you think about then?"

"Tell me, what do you fear?" She asked him back.

Death.

"Nothing," he answered, the easy lie rolling out of his lips, a thumb gently touching the blank pages.

"Some might think of you as a fool. Fear is part of human nature."

They are the fools. He swallowed the retort, preferring to hold his tongue as the opposite would be a Gryffindor-like attitude, the sort of people he disliked dealing with. The House of Blood-traitors, Mudbloods and of course, the old coot who favoured Gryffindors over the other students, especially Slytherins.

"I think that everyone fears the same thing," she continued, more to herself than him. "Individuals leave their mark in history if they do great things or the worst things. Nero is infamous for setting Rome on fire or blaming Christians for the crime. Caligula, real name Gaius Caesar, is recorded as a young and rash dictator who became obsessed with immortality and made his people live through real terror during his short rule."

Nero and Caligula...interesting examples you used. But they were just Muggles, unlike Salazar Slytherin, my direct Ancestor and the greatest of the Founders.

"Your point being?" He asked, his voice denoting the barest hint of impatience. While he prided himself on being a very self-controlled person, this Muggle was beginning to annoy him. He had slipped the wand under his sleeve just in case, despite he knew he could not do magic or that blasted Trace would earn him a letter from the Ministry.

Then again, I could use Legilimency and just grab what I want. He thought, eyes glittering with malicious intent as he took another step closer to the counter. No witnesses, just the two of us...it would be a doddle thing to do. If there is something that matron is right about is that I am good at not being caught.

"Oblivion. Those who stay within our memories are only those that are remembered. For the good and the bad," she said before giving him a thin-token smile. "If they are forgotten, they die. If they die but are not forgotten, they live."

And, just like that, he found himself continuing this conversation. In the beginning, he thought the pretty Miss Rivers to be like the other girls at Hogwarts who fawned over him and did not care whether he lifted their skirts or not, but he was mistaken.

"If they die but are not forgotten, they live...then you would also need something important. To ensure that you are not forgotten," he said to her, the corners of his lips curling upwards. "Would you like to know what that is...Olivia?"

"A name," she replied, not batting an eyelash at how intimately he had addressed her. "You would need a name; there is only one of each: Aristoteles, Plato, William Shakespeare, Vincent Van Gogh, Rafael Botticelli, Mozart, Nostradamus, Leonardo DaVinci, Dante Alighieri and so many others. People remember those names because of what those individuals did. They were recognized as remarkable – both meanings fully intended – before or after death. Names and words are powerful."

He nodded in agreement before shifting his attention to the sea marine being. "Curious creature you've got here," he said conversationally. "Does it have a name?"

"That's Cetus. Like the constellation," the Muggle replied with a sigh. "My mother has a rather...unique naming sense."

He tried his best to not snort. "That makes two of us."

Except that my mother is dead.

"It will cost you three pounds," she said to him while receiving the item he wanted to purchase. "Free of charge if you give me something that I don't have and only you have."

Something I don't have and only you have...a riddle. Well, I am no Ravenclaw, but that one is easy. She wants information. Personal information.

"I was named after my father, Tom Riddle, and my maternal grandfather. Marvolo is his name."