Chapter 1
There were few situations in life that fazed Hermione. As a Head Girl and previous prefect, she’d seen her fair share in weekly night rounds; miscreants pranking unsuspecting passerby, ghosts repeating age-old tricks or howling randomly in the dead of the night, couples in comprising positions in secluded corners and the random outbursts of seventh years breaking under the pressure of looming NEWTS and adulthood. However, watching her fellow Head Boy pressure someone to kneel and beg in front of him with the barest flicks of his wand surrounded by his friends, was enough to accelerate her heartbeat and hold her breath as she stood still behind a pillar.
Tom Riddle, Head Boy, one of the most respected and loved students in Hogwarts, well on his way to become wizard extraordinaire, stood a few feet behind her wearing the most contemptuous of expressions. Fear crept up her spine as the fine hair on her arms rose and she forced herself to freeze, not letting even a single breath escape her parted lips.
“Why did you go around asking about Rosier’s whereabouts?”
His voice, cold and imperious, struck against the heavy silence of the hall.
The boy in question stuttered, “I -I’m sorry, please. I didn’t know how-“
“Ofcourse you didn’t”, Tom muttered with derision. She could almost picture him rolling his eyes, the way he did many times before her, when his friends took jokes a little too far.
“It was a setup. I knew there was something amiss the day you started to take an interest in our plans when you never have before. Tell me”, Tom’s voice was now deceptively soft and lulling, raising the hair on Hermione’s nape, “did you think we would be so foolish to not realize you were going to tell on us?”
No sound other the the boys soft whimpers spread the halls.
The sound of him pacing reached her ears as Hermione pushed her back further against the stone pillar. She was too stunned, all logical reasoning and bravery having left her long ago. Should she confront him? She was Head Girl after all, she had to stand up before him. But his voice; so chilling and unfamiliar, stopped her. Even if she tried she couldn’t get her fingers to move, let alone her feet.
“Who would you have gone too? The professors here or your classmates? Wanted to gain some favor now that moneys run out in family coffers?”
Hermione’s heart thundered deafeningly. The ridges of pillar dug into her fingers as she pressed tighter, biting her lip.
A few shuffled footsteps and a thud. A moment later Tom’s cold voice floated again,
“Never repeat this again.”
The sound of footsteps shuffling faded a a few moments later as they cleared out going in the opposite direction, much to Hermione’s relief. Sense returned a moment after the shock receded and she realized, she hadn't even pulled her wand during the whole ordeal which sat digging her chest inside her coat pocket.
Hermione paced the length of the adjacent corridor of Gryffindor common room trying desperately to control her frantic nerves. She’d checked up on the boy as soon as she was certain everyone had left and found him alive and breathing, just unconscious. Gregory, the boy, was a Slytherin classmate whom she’d interacted in passing - he carried an arrogance developed over the years from the knowledge of a life well laid out for his plucking after graduation. Either the family had fallen on hard times or he had fallen out of favor with Tom’s friends.
She’d been out of her wits staring at his frazzled hair, never having encountered anything to this degree before. What excuse would she give to Mrs. Pollie, their in house healer? She had half a mind of run to a professor, complain about Riddle and hand the boy in but there was a good chance no one would believe her. Gregory would most likely by obliviated and side with his house mates not knowing what had happened hours before and she would catch Riddle’s attention. She’d enervated him after healing most of his obvious wounds, then crept like a thief before he would awaken.
Riddle on the other hand. She shivered involuntarily remembering the viciousness in his face and the ease with which he’d held the boy in his grasp. The boys surrounding him, his supposed friends, hadn’t intervened either, standing silently as he served his punishment.
Riddle, the brilliant student who was the only one she’d tried and failed to best and the favorite of most of the professors, was a devil in disguise.
She’d never thought particularly well about Riddle but nor had she ever thought him capable of anything this devious. She’d only stumbled upon him because of a mix up in their schedule. She hadn’t checked her night round sheet, thinking it was her turn today when it was clearly Riddle’s. Now she stood here, too scared to go to Head Dorms in case she met him or he noticed her absence.
He was probably asleep by now since more than an hour had passed but she just couldn’t pluck up the courage. His smile, saccharine and polite even when expressing disagreement or irritation, was always too forced for her liking. She knew no one could laugh as much as he did when Dippet joked, she’d tried, but it always unnerved her how cold and expressionless his face was whenever he interacted with someone whom he had no business or use of, someone like her. She, however, was in a minority. No one around her noticed the veil of arrogance in his eyes and she’d eventually decided to steer clear of him.
The worst lot were his friends who surrounded him constantly, all pureblood, all vicious bullies carrying a sickening awe and loyalty to him. They shared only two classes together and Hermione, in company of her Gryffindor friends, never paid attention to how his group had grown fearless with their hushed pureblood agenda and influence.
She glanced at her wrist watch, it was almost two in the morning and the lights on the lamps had dulled as well. Her brain, now a slush of fear and thoughts, was getting heavier and she decided to sneak into Ginny’s room and sleep it off. After all no good decisions were ever made after midnight.