Serpentine [T.M. Riddle]

When One Person Is Cursed, Two Graves Are Dug (Part III)

The journey towards the Transfiguration classroom is heavy. Tom's thoughts press down on him as if in a vain attempt to weigh him down. To keep him from moving forward and completing the task he's set upon himself. Ridiculous, but...

His knock on Dumbledore's door echoes through the corridor, though he knows it was not that loud. It was polite and firm. Enough to know that he means business and will not wait long for it (he's practiced at it, as he has with all the mannerisms adopted upon entering Hogwarts).

He still waits for Dumbledore to say 'come in'.

Inside, the man is grading through papers—First-year essays by the looks of it. He has a steaming cup of tea beside him, along with a plate of biscuits. There's another matching, empty cup alongside the pot. As if he knew. As if he were waiting for him.

He asks him to sit down.

Tom's feet no longer dangle just above the floor, but instead plant themselves firmly on the ground. Matching his confident posture. He is a young man of fourteen. And nothing scares him. Certainly not the big bad office of the wizard who has been working against him since they met. He opens his mouth and gets right to it. Declares his intent.

Dumbledore, the old idiot, looks very well pleased with himself that Tom's finally approached him about the mentorship. He returns to shuffling through papers on his desk, acting nonchalant about it all. Tom wants to kick him. "Oh? Why what very excellent news, Tom." Circe. "It's a bit short notice, but I'm sure I could find someone in need of an apprentice or charge."

The idea of being under anyone's care is unpleasant, but Tom stays silent. He needs Dumbledore on his side for this one. He nods, "But I get to decide where it is I go." He wants that much, at least. Because despite everything, his gut is telling him not to trust Dumbledore. Not to let his guard down. That there is, at any given point, someone trying to impede him in his life.

"Very well," Dumbledore's brows had jumped in the slightest at his request, but he concedes easily, "I have a wide array of colleagues from all over the globe--where is it you'd like to study?"

"Latin America."

-

The day after his request doesn't leave him with relief or a burden lifted. Moreso, it feels like he just woke up from a hundred-year sleep. Or been submerged in the deep sea. He doesn't like the feeling at all and tries to distract himself from it by focusing deeply in all his classes. The first day back from holiday is always a strange one, seeing all the students walking around his Hogwarts where just yesterday he had most of it to himself. At the very least school resumes on a Thursday this year, so he spends the afternoon at Dueling Club taking out his frustrations on unsuspecting idiots because Ximena isn't there again, and her continued absence from the club is noticeable and irritating. Just when he's gotten to be so great, she has to go and miss out on watching him--

You really are just a boy. Why did she say that? Was it bad? It must have been. It's only been a day and she hasn't spoken to him since. The newly arrived crowds of students filter through the halls, speaking of family holidays. Of the war front. Of Grindelwald. Of Hitler. He can't find it in himself to engage any of them in conversation, they're all in his way. All just distractions.

Just a boy. There are a lot of Toms. Diamonds are common.

Frustration fills his entire body. The desire to...to do something engulfs him. Scream at her. Yank on her arm. Pull her hair. Anything to have her look at him. Acknowledge him.

He remembers how Ian's lack of control over his anger ended him. He breathes. One. Two. Three...

His walk down the hall back towards the common room is silent enough to help calm him. But this is ruined by his excellent hearing when he walks past the ajar door of an empty classroom. He hears Evan's voice. Nemesis' voice. No one else. He can feel their stress from behind the door. What are they talking about?