A trapped mouse
The cramped sitting room of the Burrow was steeped in tension. Rain lashed against the windows, a steady drumbeat that matched the unease in Violet's chest. The fire sputtered low in the hearth, its shadows licking hungrily at the walls.
Slughorn arrived, his round face flushed and beaded with rain, as he wrestled his cloak off with a grunt. "Well," he began, easing into a chair with the sigh of a man twice his age, "Borgin has agreed to meet."
All eyes turned to him.
"Where?" asked Kingsley, his deep voice cutting through the silence like a blade.
Slughorn shifted, smoothing his damp robes as if buying time. "Knockturn Alley. Not in his shop, of course. He's chosen a private space nearby—a little too discreet for my liking."
Violet felt the room stiffen around her. Eve, seated cross-legged near the fire, leaned forward with sharp interest. "Knockturn Alley isn't exactly a safe bet," she said. "But if Borgin has information that can help us, we take the risk."
Arthur spoke, his voice heavy with concern. "Molly and I can't afford to lose anyone. If it goes wrong—"
"It won't," Kingsley interrupted. "Slughorn, Eve, and I will escort Violet. We're prepared."
Slughorn's uncertain expression betrayed his nerves, but he nodded. "This may be our best chance at understanding the necklace," he said.
Violet, quiet until now, broke her silence. "I'll go." Her voice was calm, but inside, anxiety coiled like a serpent. She had faced dark magic before, but Borgin represented the world of Tom Riddle—a world she had barely escaped.
Kingsley stood. "We leave at dusk."
***
The air in Knockturn Alley was thick with decay and secrets, the lantern-lit streets glistening from the relentless drizzle. The crooked buildings loomed overhead, their shadows crawling like specters. Violet stayed close to Slughorn as they wound through the labyrinthine alleys, her fingers brushing the necklace beneath her cloak.
At the far end of the street, they reached their destination: a derelict building with boarded-up windows and a sagging roof. The sign above the door had long since faded into illegibility. Slughorn hesitated, then pushed the door open.
The interior was dark and oppressive. A single lantern swung from the ceiling, its dim light casting grotesque shadows on the walls. A figure waited in the far corner, shrouded in a heavy cloak.
"Borgin," Slughorn greeted, forcing cheer into his voice. "A pleasure, as always."
The figure tilted his head, the hood sliding back to reveal his greasy, pallid face. His smile was sharp and hollow. "Horace," he drawled. "You've brought friends. How... trusting."
Kingsley's eyes narrowed. "We're not here to waste time. You know why we've come."
Borgin's gaze flickered to Violet, lingering with unnerving intensity. "Ah, the girl.... Intriguing."
Kingsley stepped forward, his tone ice. "She's not part of this conversation."
Borgin smirked, his fingers drumming idly on the table. "Very well. Let's proceed."
Slughorn produced the necklace, still swathed in its velvet covering. "We need answers," he said, placing it on the table. "What is it? How does it work?"
Borgin unwrapped the artifact with reverence, his fingers trembling as he traced the intricate designs. "Exquisite," he murmured. "Ancient. And dangerous."
The group watched as he performed a series of detection spells, each eliciting a deeper frown. Finally, he leaned back, his expression grim. "It's a Soul Tether."
"A what?" Eve demanded.
"A magical bond," Borgin explained. "Its creator has embedded part of their soul within the object, forging a link to the bearer. It's more than a connection—it's ownership."
Violet's stomach churned.
Kingsley's jaw tightened. "How do we sever it?"
Borgin hesitated, then shook his head. "You can't. Not without grave consequences."
"What about using it against him?" Eve pressed. "Turn the tether into a weapon."
Borgin's eyes gleamed. "Possible," he said slowly. "But dangerous. Tampering with magic this dark is unpredictable." He hesitated, his voice dropping. "If you fail, you'll suffer for it."
Before Kingsley could respond, the lantern above them flickered violently, plunging the room into darkness. Violet's heart lurched.
"It's a trap," Kingsley growled, his wand snapping up.
***
Two nights prior, the shop had been silent, save for the creak of old wood underfoot. Borgin was hunched over his ledger when the wards trembled. A shadow passed through the doorway, and he froze as a voice cut through the silence—smooth, commanding, and utterly chilling.
"Borgin."
The man turned, his breath hitching as Tom Riddle stepped into the dim light. His dark robes moved like liquid, his pale face serene yet terrifying. Those eyes—cold, calculating—pierced Borgin to his core.
"My Lord," Borgin stammered, bowing low. "How may I serve you?"
Riddle's smile was glacial. "You've been contacted by Horace Slughorn."
"Y-Yes," Borgin stuttered. "He seeks information about a... certain artifact."
Riddle's expression didn't shift, but the air grew heavier, suffocating. "And you agreed to meet?"
Borgin nodded, his knees threatening to give out.
"Good," Riddle said softly, his voice silk and venom. "You will proceed as planned. And you will deliver them to me."
Borgin's throat tightened. "My Lord, if I may... Slughorn and the others... they won't come unprepared."
Riddle stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Do you imagine I require your advice?" he asked, his tone dangerous. Shadows twisted around him, responding to his unspoken command. "You will do as I ask, Borgin. Or would you prefer to see what remains of your soul torn to shreds?"
Borgin nodded frantically, the words choking in his throat.
Riddle's smile returned, faint and deadly. "Good. Let them believe they have the upper hand. They will learn otherwise."
As he turned to leave, the shadows seemed to linger, a lingering promise of what would come.
***
The lantern sputtered back to life, revealing the room now crowded with cloaked figures. Death Eaters surrounded them, their laughter echoing cruelly. Borgin had vanished, his chair empty.
Kingsley moved first, his wand emitting a blinding light that forced their attackers to shield their eyes. Eve's spells crackled through the air, precise and deadly. Slughorn fumbled but managed to raise a shield charm, his robes billowing as curses flew past him.
Violet's hand trembled as she raised her wand. Her pulse thundered in her ears, the weight of the necklace burning against her chest. A Death Eater lunged, and she deflected his curse with a burst of red light.
"Violet!" Kingsley's voice boomed, cutting through the clamor like a blade. "Get out of here!"
The urgency in his tone jolted her into motion. She spun on her heel, her hands clawing at the heavy wooden doors that now seemed fused into the frame. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she slammed her shoulder into the unyielding wood, panic surging as the lock burned hot under her touch, repelling her attempts.
A spell zipped past her ear, slamming into the wall with a deafening crack. Violet ducked, her wand clutched tightly in her trembling hand as she turned to face the chaos. Death Eaters swarmed the room like dark specters, their masked faces twisted with malice. She deflected a hex, the force of her counterspell throwing one attacker back, but another came from the side, forcing her to stagger toward the corner.
"Move!" she hissed to herself, her legs trembling as she fought against the press of her fear. She dove for the door again, this time aiming her wand at the seals. "Alohomora!" she cried, desperation thick in her voice. The spell fizzled uselessly against the shimmering barrier.
A cruel laugh echoed behind her.
Before she could turn, a cold hand wrapped around her wrist, yanking her back with an almost inhuman strength. She stumbled, her back colliding with something solid. The air seemed to freeze as a familiar voice, low and venomous, curled around her like smoke.
"Running already, Violet?"
Her blood turned to ice. Slowly, she looked up, her heart pounding painfully against her ribs. Tom Riddle stood behind her, his pale, sculpted face illuminated by the flickering light of the cursed room. His dark eyes gleamed with a predatory hunger, his lips curling into a smile that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Did you really think you could escape me?" he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a terrible power that rooted her to the spot.
Violet tried to pull her wrist free, but his grip tightened, sending a sharp pain shooting up her arm. "Let me go," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Tom tilted his head, his expression a mockery of pity. "Oh, Violet. You know I can't do that. Not when you insist on throwing yourself into such... dangerous situations." His free hand came up, brushing a strand of hair from her face with a gentleness that was at odds with the storm of dark magic swirling around him.
"You planned this," she accused, her voice firmer now despite the fear twisting in her gut. "You knew we'd come."
He laughed softly, a sound that made her stomach churn. "Of course I did. Did you think Borgin would help you without a little... persuasion? Everyone has their price."
Her eyes darted to the others. Kingsley and Eve were locked in fierce battles with Death Eaters, spells lighting up the room in bursts of red and green. She wanted to scream, to fight, but Tom's presence was suffocating, his proximity draining her resolve.
"Violet," he said, his tone almost tender, as though they were the only two people in the room. "You don't belong with them. All this running, this defiance—it's beneath you."
"I'll never belong to you," she spat, fire sparking briefly in her chest.
His smile didn't falter. Instead, it widened, his eyes gleaming with something darker, more possessive. "Oh, but you already do. You've felt it, haven't you? The connection? The way the necklace binds us, drawing you closer to me, no matter how far you run?"
Violet's breath hitched. She tried to deny it, but the truth was there, coiling around her thoughts like a snake. The necklace—his creation—had been whispering to her, pulling at her mind, her emotions, since the moment she touched it.
"Get out of my head," she demanded, her voice breaking.
Tom leaned closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Why would I ever want to leave? You're mine, Violet. And soon, you'll understand that there's no escape. Not from me."
A surge of anger flared within her, momentarily eclipsing her fear. Summoning every ounce of strength, she raised her wand and aimed it at his chest. "Stupefy!"
The spell hit him squarely, forcing him to release her and stagger back a step. But instead of fury, he looked amused, almost impressed.
"Good," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Fight me, Violet. Show me the fire that made me choose you."
He raised his wand, and the room seemed to darken further, the oppressive weight of his magic pressing down on her.
The room descended further into chaos as more Death Eaters poured in through the shadows, their cloaks billowing like specters of death. Violet's heart sank as she realized the odds—they were outnumbered, and every spell cast only seemed to draw more enemies into the fray.
Kingsley and Eve were fighting fiercely, their movements swift and calculated, but even their skill couldn't hold back the tide. Slughorn was backed into a corner, his wand trembling as he barely managed to fend off a hex aimed at his chest. The air crackled with magic, the room lit by flashes of red, green, and blue, each explosion amplifying the suffocating tension.
"Fall back!" Kingsley bellowed, his deep voice cutting through the din. "We're overrun!"
"No!" Violet shouted, her voice breaking as she dodged a curse and sent a Stunner into the crowd. "We can't leave—"
"We have to!" Eve snapped, spinning around to deflect a Killing Curse aimed at her back. "There's too many!"
Violet's chest heaved as she struggled to process the chaos, her wand trembling in her hand. Her eyes darted to the door—still sealed—and then to Tom, who stood amidst the carnage with an unsettling calm, as if he were a maestro conducting a symphony of destruction. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and a chilling smile spread across his lips.
"You can't save them, Violet," he said, his voice cutting through the chaos as though it were meant for her alone. "They're already lost."
"Shut up!" she screamed, raising her wand. A powerful curse tore from her lips, but Tom deflected it with an almost lazy flick of his wrist, the spell ricocheting into the ceiling and sending shards of wood raining down.
"Is that the best you can do?" he taunted, stepping closer. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to protect them."
Violet's anger surged, but it was drowned by the hopelessness of the scene around her. Kingsley was locked in a duel with two Death Eaters, sweat pouring down his face as he blocked a volley of hexes. Eve had been forced to retreat toward the back of the room, shielding Slughorn, who looked pale and on the verge of collapse.
"Go!" Violet shouted, her voice rising above the chaos. "Get out of here!"
Kingsley's head snapped toward her, his expression fierce. "We're not leaving you!"
"You have to!" she cried, deflecting a curse aimed at Eve. "You can't win this! Just go!"
"Violet—" Eve began, but Violet cut her off, her voice filled with desperation.
"Please! If you stay, you'll die! You have to run! Apparate now!"
Kingsley hesitated, his jaw tightening as he fought off another attacker. "We'll come back for you!" he shouted, his tone heavy with the weight of his decision.
"Just go!" Violet yelled again, her voice breaking as tears stung her eyes. She turned back to Tom, who stood watching her with a cruel, possessive gleam in his eyes. She raised her wand, her heart pounding. "I'll hold him off!"
Tom's smile widened, his voice silky and taunting. "How noble of you, Violet. Sacrificing yourself for them. But do you really think they'll survive without you?"
"Shut up!" she screamed, firing another spell at him. He deflected it effortlessly, the force of his counterspell sending her stumbling back. She steadied herself, her resolve hardening even as her body trembled.
Behind her, the sound of Apparition cracks filled the air as Kingsley, Eve, and Slughorn disappeared one by one. Relief and despair warred within her as she realized they were gone—safe, but leaving her alone.
Tom tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "So brave," he murmured, stepping closer. "But now it's just us, my dear. Exactly as it should be."