i am lord voldemort • Tom Riddle

XXX

No one had ever been quite so delighted to be under investigation by the Department of Magical Law enforcement as Fenella. She didn't let something so frivolous as being accused of "aiding and abetting a known criminal" stop her from acting like her birthday had arrived half a year early. Anytime another student asked her about the investigation, a bright, slightly manic smile lit up her freckle-spattered face, as though she'd never been asked anything quite so flattering before in her life. If, for whatever reason, she wasn't asked over a period extending past ten minutes of conversation, she promptly corrected the imbalance in the universe by bringing it up herself.

One less so ecstatic about her newfound notoriety was Eustace Fawley, her father. In fact, Tom would even go so far as to say Mister Fawley's blood pressure would never recover from the damage Fenella was inflicting, based on the thick vein pulsing dangerously in his forehead whenever Tom saw the man, which, granted, wasn't very often. His distress, however, seemed only to fuel his youngest daughter's glee. Despite her ceaseless work assuring others of her own guilt— including certain members of Magical Law Enforcement— Mister Fawley worked that much harder, using his not-inconsiderable influence at the Ministry to undo the damage she was doing to his good name. To her dismay, he had all such suspicion dropped in two days flat.

Rabastan, on the other hand, didn't appear to care about the investigation one way or another, yawning his way through one interrogation after another, until eventually they decided he knew nothing of either Ophelia or Grindelwald, and therefor surely had nothing to do with her subsequent evasion of the Ministry at Hogwarts. By convenient coincidence, the Ministry received a sizeable donation from the Lestrange family the very same day, one that certainly had nothing to do with their abrupt decision.

For his part, Tom lacked the luxury of a wealthy, powerful family. The only relatives he had were either dead or wished they were dead, which suited him just as well. Just a bit of story-weaving and a couple glowing commendations from his professor's about his character painted him into yet another tragic victim of the Grindelwald line. It was almost too easy. Of course someone with Tom's record would be overlooked. People payed too much heed to appearances. Just because someone behaved as society expected within the public eye didn't mean they were at all the same in private. The only difference between "good" and "bad" people was that the former were sly enough to successfully hide their misdeeds where the former failed. If nothing else, Tom was sly.

He was also rational enough to know when it was time to cut his losses where Ophelia was concerned. It was time. Past time. She wore trouble the way others might wear a silk scarf, but while others could take it off, hers wound around her throat in tighter and tighter knots until it choked the ghost of life away. He knew that better than anyone. He knew she wasn't worth it.

He knew a great many things.

That didn't stop the phantoms. It didn't stop that brief, beautiful second of ignorance when Rabastan said something idiotic or Slughorn made yet another of his humble-brags that almost certainly couldn't be true, and Tom turned to share a look with Ophelia, like so many they'd shared before, only to remember, only to sink back into a hollow reality.  It was all wrong. It was irrational and made no sense however he approached it and he hated it. He hated that part of him that didn't want to hate her, but still couldn't fight the intoxicating feeling. One he loved to hate and hated to need.

Even after severing three quarters of his soul, Tom never felt like something was missing— until it was. Ophelia had taken a portion of his soul and fled with it— literally. She carried a part of him with her wherever she went, whether she knew it or not, on her finger.

Dumbledore didn't have as easy a time feigning innocence, but after all records concerning Ophelia Ashwood— as they soon discovered "the girl" was calling herself— mysteriously vanished, there wasn't much they could do besides interrogate all her known associates. To their immense frustration, there weren't many associates to speak of. She was unmemorable in just about every regard. The few that did know of her only knew her in relation to Tom, and those that knew more weren't talking. Even her own dorm-mates had little to offer investigators besides her sparse suitcase, and Ephiriam, the only Gryffindor who may have known anything at all, feigned ignorance. His supposed clumsiness ended with the suitcase flying into the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace at some point. It was saved, unfortunately, but not without sustaining quite a bit of burn damage.