Juxtaposition

Tom looked around at his room, all packed away. His room was cold and unwelcoming, which reflected his own personality. Most children in Wool’s orphanage had to share a room with at least one other child, but everyone had always found Tom creepy, weird or freaky. He didn’t really take offence to it, he didn’t really feel anything when he stayed in the orphanage. He just existed there.
His trunk was situated right next to the door, which was wooden, filled with scratches and small holes caused by other grubby children who stayed in the room before Tom.

The wooden floors creaked under the weight of Tom as he walked out of his bedroom, picking up his trunk on the way. He could hear the chatter of the fellow orphans, no doubt being absolute horrors. He never liked kids.

“Get away,” Tom sneered, watching a young girl walk up to him.
She didn’t listen, and decided to try to initiate a conversation with him. Tom guessed she was a fresh orphan.
“Hello Tom!” She smiled, her happy face certainly looked out of place.
“Move, you insolent child.”
She didn’t move, though Tom did try to forcefully move her.
“Tom! Where are ya going?” She asked, still beaming. Tom didn’t understand why she was so insistent on talking to him, it definitely wasn’t like he was nice to the other residents here, in fact it was the opposite.
Tom sighed in annoyance as he continued his journey down the narrow, dimly lit corridor. The girl’s persistence was something he couldn’t fathom. Her cheerful demeanour clashed starkly with the gloomy atmosphere of Wool’s Orphanage.

He pushed open the heavy wooden door that led to the common room, a space filled with worn-out furniture and the echoing chatter of other children. Tom could feel the curious and fearful glances of his fellow orphans as he entered. He was used to being the odd one out, the unsettling presence that others preferred to avoid.

Despite the disinterest and even repulsion he often inspired in the other children, he had mastered the art of moving through the orphanage almost unnoticed. He was an enigma, a strange and unsettling figure, but one that the other orphans preferred to avoid, given his reputation for occasional outbursts of anger.

As he headed for the exit, the young girl from earlier still tagged along. She had a tenacity that was both annoying and perplexing. “Why are you so interested in me?” he finally asked, his voice tinged with irritation.
“You are like me!” She finally said,
“You are nothing like me.” Tom countered, still trying to get past the child.
“We are both alone all the time! And sister Beatrice is always muttering how I’m a freak, and I’ve heard her say it to you, too!”
Tom narrowed his eyes, surely this…little girl couldn’t be a witch.
“Get out of my way.” He sighed.
The small girl, whose name Tom didn’t know, finally moved. But, could feel her staring at him the whole time while walking out of the Orphanage.

The scarlet train gleamed in the soft glow of the sun. Tom carefully carried his trunk along, looking for one of his followers. He rushed into the train, desperate to get out of the cheap muggle clothes the Orphanage provided. He really didn’t want anyone to see him in this. Not many people knew of his situation, everyone did know he had a muggle surname, but didn’t know if he was a half-blood or mudblood. He didn’t even know himself.
As Tom approached the train, he felt a sudden sadness when he looked at all of the loving families sending off their children, but, he pushed it down and ignored it. Family would only slow him down.

After a little bit of searching, Tom found a compartment that was empty. He scoffed at the thin layer of dust slightly coating the shelves for their trunks. After casting a wandless cleaning spell, he carefully slid his trunk onto it.

Once settled in the compartment, Tom leaned against the cool window, gazing out at the bustling platform. Tom’s thoughts turned to the unknown future that awaited him at Hogwarts. The girl’s words echoed in his mind — “You are like me.” It was a sentiment he refused to entertain, dismissing the idea of camaraderie. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels became a steady backdrop to his contemplation.

“Tom? Are you here?” Abraxas Malfoy’s voice echoed through the train as he knocked on the door. He poked his head in and smiled, “Ah, hello,” Malfoy said, lowering his head slightly. In pure blood culture, it was a sign of respect and trust: trusting that the recipient would not use their wand.
Tom regarded Abraxas with a calculated nod, acknowledging the unspoken understanding. Malfoy, heir to the ancient and esteemed Malfoy family, was one of the few individuals Tom deemed worthy of his presence. The compartment door slid shut as Abraxas entered, his silver-blond hair impeccably styled, and the emblem of the Malfoy crest adorned his robes with aristocratic pride. “I trust your summer was bearable,” Malfoy inquired, his face slightly grim. Tom had entrusted Malfoy with the information regarding his home situation, though Wool’s Orphanage was no home.
“I am alive.” Tom shrugged.

The train hurtled through the countryside, carrying them toward Hogwarts while Malfoy told Tom all about his holidays, and Tom couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous.
“Where’s Black?” Tom asked, trying to shift the conversation.
“I believe Orion is in a compartment with Walburga and Druella.” Malfoy replied, and Tom nodded in response.
“Is he still fawning over Walburga?”
“Yes. I'm quite surprised she has not noticed. Orion isn’t very subtle, and Walburga is extremely perceptive.”
“I wonder how their family would react? It would be incest, no?”
“If they had children, it would be more controversial. But, most pure bloods are related at least distantly.”
“I would be surprised if Walburga actually accepted his courting, if he manages to do it. His social graces are not well reformed.” Abraxas chuckled slightly, a controlled and slightly forced laugh.
“He is rather odd.” Tom agreed,
“Even you have a better understanding of social cues, and yet you are-” Malfoy paused, looking quite guilty.
“Finish your sentence, Abraxas.” Tom said slowly, wanting to provoke Malfoy.
“I was going to say, and yet you could be a mudblood, but realised it was highly inappropriate.” Malfoy muttered, looking away from Tom.
Tom’s eyes bored at Malfoy, who now looked anxious, “Very well. If that is your opinion of me, I will not try to change it. You are rather stubborn.”
The air was tense as the train finally arrived at its destination. Tom swiftly took his trunk and exited the compartment, eager to leave Malfoy.

As Tom walked down the cold, stone steps to get down to the common area, he couldn’t help but think about the Chamber of Secrets.
When they settled down into their dorm room, Abraxas had handed him a book about the Chamber, which piqued his interest. It was full of passages regarding the monster inside of Slytherin’s chamber, but none of them were actually 100% sure, all speculations and guesses.
“Mr Malfoy, Headmaster Dippet requests your presence in his office.” One of the portraits called out. Tom looked up from his book and watched Abraxas excuse himself and walk out. Tom was tempted to follow Malfoy, but he didn’t think it would be that interesting: if it was something serious, Tom would’ve been called, seeing as he is a prefect.

Tom went back to reading his book, trying to find anything useful in finding the Chamber.

Looking up from his book once again at the sound of steps, he noticed Abraxas and an unfamiliar boy walking together. Tom had a perfect memory of each Slytherin student, and this boy he didn’t recognise.
“Slytherins, this is Hadrian Peverell,” Abraxas started, more people looking over at the mention of his last name.
As the two got closer, Tom could feel the eerie aura surrounding the new student.
“He’s a transfer and is 6th year. Please welcome him with open arms.” Abraxas drawled, uninterested. Peverell looked even less interested, somehow, as if meeting Tom and the rest of the Slytherin’s way beneath him.

Peverell had messy jet black hair, equally black under eye bags that made him look like he was just resurrected from the dead, hauntingly green eyes, pale white skin with contrastingly dark scars and black thin framed glasses.
Hadrian Peverell glanced around, and when his eyes locked onto Tom’s, his face darkened, and didn't seem inclined to initiate any friendships or seek companionship with others, instead he walked straight to the 6th year dorms and shut the door behind him.
Tom couldn’t help but follow. There was something about Hadrian that just seemed off.
“My name is Tom Riddle,” He showed off a practised smile as he approached the raven-haired boy.
Hadrian was sitting on his bed, looking through his luggage.
“Fantastic,” He muttered distantly.
“Did Abraxas give you a tour?”
Tom didn’t know why he felt even a smidge of curiosity. It wasn’t like Hadrian had a powerful aura swallowing them whole, and it most certainly wasn’t like he waltzed into the common room, wand ablaze.
He just didn’t understand; which was something Tom didn’t experience very much. When he met his current… friends…, he knew from the first word they spoke what kind of person they were. But Hadrian just seemed to be an enigma.
“Yes.” Hadrian gritted out, “Look, can you leave me alone for a bit?”
“Of course,” Tom replied, his tone friendly. “If you ever need anything, or have questions about the school, don’t hesitate to ask. We Slytherins stick together, after all.” With that, he left Hadrian to his thoughts, all the while pondering the puzzle that was this new student.

Tom sat back down at his designated armchair, looking over at Orion who seemed confused.
“I didn’t know the Peverell line lived this long.” Orion shrugged
Abraxas nodded equally confused, “They certainly kept the secret well. No records of them for hundreds of years.”
“I wonder why they hid?” Tom asked, not really directly to anyone, just aloud.
Tom absentmindedly agreed with whatever his social circle was talking about as he thought about the Chamber of Secrets once again. He had been trying to search for it for years, after finding out from Abraxas that there was a large possibility it was real, due to the sheer size of Hogwarts and the mysteries contained within its grounds.

“We should probably head down to the Great Hall now if we want good seats.” Orion’s voice pulled Tom out of his thoughts.
“I will tell Peverell,” Tom said simply, already walking over to the dorm.
Tom’s eyes widened as Hadrian snatched his wand from the bedside table and had it pointed at Tom in a zeptosecond. He noticed how Hadrian’s demeanour had changed from distant and indifferent to hostile and tense.
“I would appreciate it if you could lower your wand,” Tom said slowly. His hand was itching for his own wand, settled in his pocket, but he really couldn’t be bothered to duel someone so early in the term.
Hadrian’s grip on his wand eased, and his sharp green eyes studied Tom. “Sorry, I’ve had some… less-than-pleasant experiences in the past.”
“I'm sure you have. We were just heading to the Great Hall for the grand feast, I’m sure Abraxas told you about it earlier.”
“Yes,” Hadrian said, standing up and putting his wand in his pocket.
Hadrian wordlessly followed Tom into the common room where they joined the rest of Tom’s Knights.

The group moved towards the Great Hall in silence, and Tom couldn't help but steal the occasional glance at Hadrian. Hadrian’s shoulders were tense and Tom could see Hadrian’s eyes trained forwards, not looking at anything else. As Tom slowed down to be in sync with Hadrian, he noticed the boy curl his fists together.
What had he done to make Hadrian annoyed? He merely walked in step with Hadrian.

The Great Hall was buzzing with activity as Dumbledore carefully positioned the Sorting Hat on the small dingy, wooden stool. Tom rolled his eyes as his least favourite professor briskly walked out of the Great Hall to collect the new first years.
Tom sat down on the bench along the Slytherin table, next to Abraxas.
“Dolohov, move over.” Tom said, rather loudly, noticing Hadrian looking for a place to sit. Antonin grumbled but shifted to make room for Hadrian. Hadrian settled down, still with that guarded look on his face.
“So, Hadrian, what made you decide to transfer here?” Orion asked, smiling brightly.
Hadrian paled slightly as he made eye contact with Orion, who obviously didn’t notice the boy’s apprehension.
“Well,” He started, fidgeting with his hands, “My parents and I were on the run, due to Grindelwald, and after they got killed, I realised the safest place for me would probably be here.”
“Sorry for your loss,” Walburga said solemnly, turning to face Hadrian.
Tom wondered why Hadrian’s parents were warranted an attack. They were Peverells, so it did make sense.
“Is Grindelwald after the Hallows?” Tom asked. He knew they had to have been real. While he couldn’t prove it, he was hopeful.
“I suppose so.” Hadrian shrugged, “I don’t even know where they are. It’s been so many generations since the brothers in the fairytale that they are lost.”
“Wait, the children’s book is real? I thought it was just fantasy.” Druella asked.
As Hadrian nodded, he glanced over to Tom, who was already looking at him and Tom swore he could feel the temperature around him drop.
Tom averted his eyes, focusing on Dumbledore, who was leading in the first years. He watched as the students got sorted, the occasional one getting sorted into Slytherin.

After the sorting ceremony, Tom’s mind raced with thoughts about Hadrian, while Headmaster Dippet droned on about welcoming the new students and which places were forbidden.
Tom looked down at his food. As he ate, he occasionally chipped into conversation, looked up at Hadrian, who, without fail, glared at him every single time.

“Prefects please show the first years where their respective dorms are.” Headmaster Dippet announced after he noticed older students getting up and leaving. Tom bregrudingly got up from his seat and walked over to where the first years were seated, all of them looking starstruck by Hogwarts.
“Please follow me and Ms Black.” Tom said, exuding confidence and patience. He hated dealing with first years. They were all so obnoxious and snotty, especially the Pureblooded children.
He nodded Lucretia’s way, who was on the opposite side of the table, answering their, most likely, stupid questions.
The children followed behind him and Lucretia like ducklings, and constantly rattled off questions that Tom left for Lucretia to answer.
“Welcome to Slytherin, arguably, the best house.” Tom smirked, “My name is Tom Riddle-”
“That doesn’t sound like a Pureblood name. Are you a mudblood?” One of the children interrupted
Tom turned around quickly, trying to locate who said it, “Who said that?”
“I did.” One of them piped up, looking far to comfortable, “Atticus Parkinson.”
Another Pureblood asshole, then.
“I hope you know, Mr Parkinson, that name calling is not tolerated here, and you will be reprimanded.”
“You aren’t denying it, filthy mudblood.” Parkinson shot back, his whiny little voice filling Tom’s ears.
This time, Lucretia stepped in, “Parkinson. With me, now.” The small boy sashayed towards Lucretia, who had a stern look on her face. Tom knew she didn’t actually care about him saying ‘mudblood’, but she and Tom were friendly, maybe even friends.
“Pardon, back to the introduction. I, along with Lucretia Black, are Slytherin’s prefects. Our job is to help enforce school rules, assist professors and most of all, help the new students. If you have any questions we cannot answer, please go to our head of house, Professor Slughorn.”
“I have a question,” A brunette haired child asked, she had tan skin and was quite short.
“Please save them for after, when we arrive at the common room.” Tom continued, “Now, Slytherin has a reputation for producing dark wizards, but people seem to ignore that all houses produce them. Because of this subservient belief, we are targeted by other houses, especially Gryffindor. I recommend that you pair up with someone when walking the halls, even better if you are with a group. If you are ever attacked, please come to me, other sixth years, seventh years, such as Lucretia, who are adept at healing.”
They continued walking through the corridors, and Tom finally realised they were only a few minutes away from reaching their common room.
“Putting aside the more depressing subject, I would like to tell you about Slytherin’s rich history. Our house's founder, Salazar Slytherin, valued resourcefulness, ambition, cunningness and leadership. We all have a part to play in keeping Slytherin great, and that is, if you are going to break rules, first of all, you better have a bloody good reason why, second, don’t get caught, and third, don’t drag anyone else in Slytherin down with you if you do get caught. We have a reputation to uphold, so if you are struggling with schoolwork, don’t be afraid to ask for help. Never, and I mean never, argue with another Slytherin outside of the common room. Do whatever you want inside of those walls, but, outside, you represent Slytherin house. If a Gryffindor calls you a name or provokes you, walk away. Do not give them the satisfaction of a reaction. And finally, the common room password changes regularly, so make sure you pay attention to it, or you'll be sleeping in the corridor." Tom walked up to the wall, and despite the confused looks on the first years faces, spoke, “Serpensortia.”
A large snake slithered along the wall, revealing a large oak double door. Amused, Tom glanced back again, seeing the stunned faces. Just inside of the door, there was a small fountain with stone sirens position in the middle. There were two benches off to the left side and lanterns connected to the walls. Tall stone trimmed arches connected to the beautiful stone pillars against the walls. The lights glowed a soft greenish-blue light, casting an ethereal light on the area.
“Welcome to the common room.”
Next to the stairs, there was a large painting of Salazar Slytherin, with a torch below, emitting a blue fire. Large, but faint murals decorated the walls, each detail more intricate than the last.
All of their footsteps against the stairs were starting to sound like a stampede, and the banners attached to the curved walls around the stairs bristled in the slight wind from all of the students walking past. While walking down the stairs, Tom answered any questions regarding lessons, the layout of the school and other similar stuff.

At the base of the stairs, a small pool was at the left side, along with lilypads and slight clumps of moss.
The rest of the common room was grand, more enormous paintings adorned the walls, and built in shelves. Multiple large pillars surrounded each archway, making it more elegant and beautiful.
Tom led the first years over to where multiple couches were set, and mentally prepared himself for any questions.
“Can we ask different questions now?” A boy asked, and Tom nodded in response. “What year are you in?”
Tom sighed, “I am in sixth year.”
“How old do you have to be to be a prefect?”
“You can be selected to become a prefect in 5th year, and that duty continues up until you graduate, if you maintain good grades and behaviour.”
As the first years asked more and more questions, Tom silently begged for Lucretia to come back.
“Do you have a girlfriend?”
Tom recoiled, “Excuse me?”
“Oh, sorry. Was that offensive?” She whispered, looking around at her friends for guidance. Tom could see that a few nodded, and a few shook their heads.
“Uh. No. I do not have someone I am romantically involved with.” He said awkwardly, wanting to hex the girl. Of course, quite a lot of girls, and even a few boys had asked him out. Which was really no surprise to him: he had a perfectly crafted personality, and he knew he wasn’t ugly by any means.
“Now, the first year dorm rooms are down that hallway, boys to the left, and girls to the right.” Tom pointed. He knew he didn’t have to bother showing them to the dorms, as they had plaques on the wood doors saying what year’s dorm room it was and for which sex. If they lacked the critical thinking to find their dorm, Tom was sure that they didn’t deserve to sleep in their bed.

Walking back to Tom’s dorm, he collapsed on his bed, exhausted from dealing with 11 year olds. He could hear footsteps approaching, and sat up, wanting to atleast look proper.
“Ah, Hadrian. How was dinner?” He smiled again, watching Hadrian look over and roll his eyes.
“Sod off, Riddle.” Hadrian said, tugging off his robes, sweater, and tie, leaving him in the white dress shirt and trousers. He kicked off his shoes and glared at Tom once more before getting into his bed and closing his curtains. Tom guessed he was probably changing into his pyjamas, which made Tom realise he should do the same. He grabbed his pyjamas from his trunk and quickly slipped them on.
“Intrusum Alarum”, Tom could hear Hadrian whispering.
“Obscuro Insonitus”
“Oblivium Custodia”
“Quietus Somnus”
“Repellum Intrusor”
“Claudere Terga”
“Deterrere Facetus”
“Privacyus Murmuro”
While Tom prided himself on his magical prowess, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity and perhaps a hint of jealousy at the thought of not knowing a set of spells. They sounded complex, and they would’ve had to have been for Tom to not know them. He could guess what some of them did, but didn’t know how to perform them. Maybe that was something he needed to do more reading about. Tom felt intrigued by the amount of spells Hadrian was casting on his bed to protect himself. Was he really that paranoid that someone would come after him? Though, Tom did respect it. He didn’t trust anyone farther than he could throw them.
Tom opened the curtains to his bed, and stood up. He looked at his bed with mild embarrassment, knowing his wards and spells on his bed were quite lacking. Tom did know none of the Slytherin’s would ever dare to impose, but if anyone else had snuck into their room… who knows what would’ve happened.
Tom picked up his wand and pointed it at Hadrian’s bed, casting a few harmless spells to test out the strength. They either bounced off of the curtains or just dissolved upon contact with the curtains. Tom frowned, even more curious.

After accepting defeat - for now, Tom got back into his bed. His books were looking less and less interesting as the night wore on, and he finally closed it, ready to sleep. By now, the rest of the 6th year Slytherin’s had come into their respective beds.

“Ah, Mr Peverell. I hope you found your way alright.” Slughorn called out. Tom looked around and saw Hadrian entering the classroom. It wasn’t quite lesson time yet, Tom always liked to get to classes early. It was probably 5 minutes before the lesson.
“I did, thanks.” He answered, sitting down at a stool near the back.
“Actually, I was thinking you could sit next to Mr Riddle, maybe he could lend a hand if you need it.” Slughorn said, making Tom turn back.
“Professor? Will all due respect. I’m sure Hadrian can brew a potion on his own without my help.” Tom frowned.
“I insist. Atleast for this first lesson.” Slughorn pressed.
Tom watched Hadrian sigh and walk over to where Tom was seated.

Once Slughorn had told them what ingredients were needed for their potions, Tom couldn't help but glance over at Hadrian's ingredients, which were laid out in a chaotic mess. Without a word, he began rearranging them into the proper order, his movements efficient and precise.
Hadrian watched him for a moment before smirking. "Who knew you had a hidden talent for organising messy potion ingredients?"
Tom raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider this. "I suppose I have many hidden talents, Hadrian. You've only scratched the surface of my potential."
Hadrian rolled his eyes, "Modesty clearly isn't one those talents.”

While their potions brewed, Tom looked over at Hadrian's potion, which was also looking acceptable. It seemed that his assistance had made a difference, even if Hadrian wouldn't openly admit it.

As the class continued, Tom found himself explaining certain potion-making techniques to Hadrian, offering tips and insights that he had picked up over the years. Hadrian listened attentively, and Tom couldn't deny that he was enjoying being in this position of knowledge and authority.
Tom clutched his potion, Draught of the living death, and sealed it in a vial, ready to hand up to Professor Slughorn, and he noticed Hadrian was doing the same.
The class concluded with both Tom and Hadrian presenting their finished potions to Professor Slughorn. Tom's Draught of the Living Death was impeccable, and the subtle satisfaction of outshining Hadrian didn't escape him. However, to his surprise, Hadrian's potion was nearly as flawless.
While Slughorn continued to gush about Tom’s brilliant potioneering, Hadrian didn’t stay, and instead rushed off.

"Hadrian," he called out, but Hadrian continued walking, giving no indication that he heard. Undeterred, Tom quickened his pace to catch up. "Peverell!" he called again, this time with a sharper tone. Hadrian, however, maintained his silence, his attention fixed straight ahead as he walked away.

Tom huffed and walked to the great hall, where students were gathering for their morning break. They had two lessons then a thirty minute break, 3 more lessons, and then their lunch break - one hour long, then two more classes before the end of the day. Each of their classes were fourty five minutes long.
After 15 minutes of their break was over, Tom wondered where Hadrian was. He hadn’t shown up for their break in the great hall.
“Abraxas, do you know where Peverell is?” Tom asked
Abraxas raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden interest in Peverell's whereabouts?"
Tom’s eyes bore into Abraxas’, sending him a message to shut up,“He hasn’t shown up, I was wondering if he was lost or something.”
“Oh, really?”Abraxas drawled, and TOom didn’t know where Abraxas got all of this audacity from, “No. I haven’t seen him. Nott and Lestrange are in the library, so he might be there.’ Abraxas smiled.
Tom thanked him briefly and left the Great Hall.

The library was mostly empty as Tom looked around. He did spot Nott and Leatrange and they seemed to be talking about Grindelwald. Tom decided to sit down next to them, as the chances of finding Peverell were now slim, seeing as they had little time of their break left.
“Hey, Tom,” Nott greeted, smiling slightly.
“Nott.”
“What classes do you have next?” putting down the Daily Prophet, Lestrange asked.
“Double Transfiguration, then Herbology.” Tom sighed. He really didn’t like Dumbledore, and was sure Dumbledore hated him. He didn’t mind the actual class, but being in the same room as the nutty professor always gave him a headache.

Tom walked like a man going to the executioner's block. Many people were already seated in Transfiguration, and tried to find a seat out of Dumbledore’s direct line of sight.

The clock seemed to tick slower as the class progressed, and Tom felt himself partially falling asleep multiple times. Abraxas and Hadrian had come into the class late, with the excuse that Hadrian had gotten lost and Abraxas was helping.

After the class had ended, Tom immediately got out of his seat and almost sprinted out of the room, but that would be uncouth, so Tom just speed walked.
He fell into step with Hadrian, who also seemed to get away from Dumbledore.
“Where were you at break?” Tom asked, wanting an answer.
“Piss off.”
Tom narrowed his eyes. Why was Hadrian acting like Tom had murdered his whole family? He was so angry, and for no reason. It seemed to only be for Tom, too, he was just impatient and reclusive around everyone else.

“Today you will be severing the vines and collecting them. These are highly dangerous so don’t die. I don’t want to do the paperwork.” Professor Beery snapped, pointing his wand at the killer plants.
Tom stood next to Hadrian and Abraxas and pulled out his wand.

Tom groaned, picking up the last vine from his plant and putting it in his pile. He glanced over and noticed Hadrian’s plant looking very much dead.
“You killed it?” Tom asked, feeling tired. He noticed a lot of other students looking the same way. Hadrian still looked dead.
“I didn’t mean to. It just kind of…” Hadrian swallowed, staring at his dead Venomous Tentacula.
“Died? Tom finished, smirking slightly.
Hadrian tried to stifle a laugh, and Tom felt himself feeling a little bit more awake.
He looked over at Abraxas, who looked like he was going to be sick.

Tom decided to go to the library after his classes, wanting to see if there was any more information about the Chamber of Secrets. He had been given a pass to enter the restricted section, and the librarian now just let him in whenever. She trusted him.
He had narrowed it down to it being underground, as Slytherin’s common room was under the school, and many other Slytherin areas were all located in the dungeons. It just made sense.

Tom’s fingers brushed over the dusty spines of aged volumes, his eyes scanning sentences that echoed with the whispers of Hogwarts’ past. The night unfolded, and the dim glow of enchanted lamps illuminated his intense focus. The librarian, a figure draped in shadows, occasionally shuffled around, maintaining an air of watchful silence.

Amidst the musty smell of parchment and ancient ink, Tom stumbled upon a passage that sent a shiver down his spine. References to Parseltongue, the language of snakes, intertwined with tales of a hidden chamber. A flicker of excitement danced in his eyes as he connected the dots — the Chamber of Secrets and his own ability to speak Parseltongue were bound together in an enigmatic dance. He didn’t know how he could use his Parseltongue to get inside of the Chamber, but he stored the information in his mind, for later use.

He put the book in his bag and walked off to the Great Hall, as he was getting hungry. He continued to think more about the chamber, and how much information could be stored in there.

Tom struggled to sleep that night, constantly tossing and turning. His eyes slowly closed for longer and longer, but they snapped open at the sound of someone climbing out of bed. He got on his knees and crawled to the end of his bed, and poked his head out, seeing Hadrian look around before carefully walking out of the dorm.