Juxtaposition

Tom was beginning to panic.
Tom had observed Hadrian's increasing independence with a growing sense of unease. His initial expectation that Hadrian would quickly conform to his expectations began to crumble, and Tom found himself grappling with an unexpected challenge. Hadrian's resilience and refusal to fall in line disrupted the controlled environment Tom had meticulously crafted within Slytherin.
The more Tom sought to assert his influence, the more Hadrian resisted, and Tom's frustration grew. He had anticipated having Hadrian under his thumb by the first week, but the boy's autonomy was proving to be a stubborn obstacle. Among other students and teachers, excluding Dumbledore, Tom could effortlessly manipulate people to fulfil his wishes, unbeknownst to them.

Tom couldn't dismiss the fact that he had taken a genuine interest in Hadrian, the boy had beaten him in a duel, with a spell Tom had never even heard of, no less. It was a thorn in his mind that he couldn't easily ignore.

As Tom walked through the corridors, he overheard a group of Slytherins discussing their plans for the weekend. Hadrian was among them, chatting animatedly about a trip to Hogsmeade. It was a stark reminder that the boy had a life beyond Tom's influence—a life filled with friendships and personal choices.

Tom clenched his jaw and crossed his arms, passing by the group. He would just have to work harder to indoctrinate Hadrian.

“Everyone! I want you all to partner up. We will be duelling again today.”
“But we did this last week!” Someone groaned.
Merrythought tutted, “Let me finish. You will be doing it non-verbally.”
“But you have barely taught us how to do non-verbal spells?” Another called.
“I believe in learning on the spot.”
Merrythought's response was met with a mix of groans and muttering among the students. The prospect of attempting non-verbal spells seemed to unsettle many of them, especially since it was a skill they hadn't thoroughly practised. Tom, however, had no qualms about duelling non-verbally. Ever since he found out he was a wizard, he had been practising magic without words, as he didn’t know any spells, and even without his wand. Spellcasting without a wand was significantly more difficult, as a wand acts as a vessel to help project and use magic.
"Quiet down, everyone," Merrythought instructed, her eyes scanning the room. "Non-verbal magic is a crucial aspect of duelling. It allows you to catch your opponent off guard and maintain an element of surprise. Now, pair up and let's see what you can do."
Tom turned around instantly and started walking towards Hadrian. He intended on having a rematch.
“Hadrian.” Tom greeted.
“Riddle.” Hadrian narrowed his eyes.
“I would like a rematch.”
Hadrian scoffed, “Not afraid to lose again, I see.”
Tom grinned, his eyes glinting with determination. "Fear has no place in a wizard's heart, Hadrian. I merely seek an opportunity to test my skills against a worthy opponent."
Hadrian raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "Worthy opponent, huh? You must be feeling confident today, Riddle."
The students around them had formed pairs, wands at the ready. Merrythought strolled through the room, occasionally stopping to offer guidance on non-verbal spellcasting. The air was charged with anticipation as the first pairs began their duels.
“Also, no spells that seriously injure your opponent, I am looking at you, Mr Riddle and Mr Peverell.” Professor Merrythought glanced at them suspiciously.
Tom and Hadrian faced each other, the tension between them palpable. Without uttering a word, they raised their wands, eyes locked in an unspoken challenge.
Merrythought's voice echoed through the room, "Begin!"

Tom wasted no time, sending a non-verbal spell toward Hadrian. It was quick and precise, a testament to Tom's practised skill. Hadrian deftly countered the Petrificus Totalus, casting a shield charm with a fluid motion.
Tom cast Flipendo, which swiftly knocked Hadrian against the wall behind him. Tom could see blood gushing out of his nose, and Hadrian groaned in pain.
“Give up?” Tom taunted.
“We’ve just begun, Riddle.” Hadrian spat, blood coming out of his mouth.
Hadrian wiped away the blood from his nose with the back of his hand, a defiant glint in his eyes. Though, the wiping didn’t do much as the blood just smeared across his face. Tom, impressed by Hadrian's resilience, couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation.
Tom, determined to maintain control, unleashed a series of rapid spells, aiming to exploit any opening in Hadrian's defence. Hadrian, however, responded with agile counterattacks, showcasing a blend of defensive and offensive manoeuvres.

The room crackled with the intensity of the magical duel as Tom and Hadrian continued their exchange of spells. Tom, driven by a desire for dominance, cast spells with precision and speed. Hadrian, battered but unyielding, met each onslaught with remarkable agility.
Tom's eyes, sharp and calculating, never wavered as he sent spells flying towards Hadrian, each one crafted with meticulous precision. Every movement, every incantation was executed with a fluidity that betrayed years of practice and dedication.
Hadrian, though visibly fatigued, refused to back down. His defences were flawless, his counterattacks swift and decisive. Each time a spell came hurtling towards him, he deftly sidestepped, ducked, or countered, showcasing a level of agility and skill that would’ve left many in awe.
The room seemed to shrink around them, with neither willing to concede an inch. Spells collided, sending sparks flying and casting eerie shadows on the walls.
As the minutes dragged on, beads of sweat began to form on Tom's brow, a testament to the exertion of maintaining his relentless assault. Hadrian, though equally taxed, wore a determined expression, one that Tom was determined to wipe off of his face.

In a strategic move, Tom cast Diffindo. He had done it slowly, to make sure he didn’t kill or maim Hadrian, so to see the boy collapse to the floor in pain was surprising.
Tom, confident in his perceived advantage, approached Hadrian with a triumphant sneer. "Submit, Hadrian. There's no escaping my superiority," he declared, raising his wand for another offensive spell.
Blood continued to trickle down Hadrian’s face, creating a gruesome spectacle. Tom, momentarily taken aback by the apparent severity of Hadrian's condition, hesitated for a split second.
Hadrian clutched his chest and staggered to his knees. "You win," he gasped, his voice strained with pain.
A triumphant glint appeared in Tom's eyes, relishing his perceived victory. However, the satisfaction was short-lived. In a sudden burst of energy, Hadrian sprang to his feet, casting a spell that caught Tom off guard. The Expelliarmus charm soared through the air, disarming Tom and leaving him momentarily defenceless.
The room fell silent as Tom's wand clattered to the ground. Hadrian, though still bloodied and battered, stood tall, a victorious smirk playing on his lips. The onlookers, including Merrythought, watched in astonishment at the unexpected turn of events.
“I never said ‘I yield’, Riddle.”
"Well played, Hadrian," Tom admitted, a mixture of frustration and respect in his eyes.
“Alright. Mr Peverell, go to the hospital wing and get all that blood off your face. Riddle, make sure he gets there.” Merrythought instructed, beginning to cast spells to repair any damage made by the duelling students.
Tom picked up his wand and started walking to the door, albeit slowly so Hadrian could keep up.
“Were you really in that much pain?” Tom asked curiously, shutting the door behind them.
“No. I was counting on you being momentarily concerned by the pain I was in to win. Which now that I think about, was a big risk.” Hadrian laughed.
Tom, though initially surprised by Hadrian's revelation, couldn't help but sigh in frustration. "A risk that paid off, apparently. Clever move, I must admit."
“I have had a lot of experience dealing with you.” Hadrian said nonchalantly.
“With me?”
“I mean people like you. Arrogant people.” Hadrian blurted.
Tom scrunched up his face in offence, “I compliment you and in response you insult me?”
Hadrian chuckled, clearly unfazed by Tom's feigned offense. "It's not an insult, Riddle. Just an observation. You're not the first arrogant person I've dealt with, and I doubt you'll be the last."
Tom, though seemingly irritated, couldn't hide a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Well, you handle arrogant people quite effectively, I must say."
Hadrian shrugged, a casual demeanour masking the calculated mind beneath. "Comes with the territory, I guess."

As they walked through the corridors, Tom contemplated how to further his influence over Hadrian. "You know, Hadrian, you've got potential. But potential alone won't get you far. You need guidance, someone who understands the intricacies of the magical world."
Hadrian raised an eyebrow, "And you think you're that someone?"
"Of course," Tom replied smoothly. "I've navigated these corridors for years. I understand the power dynamics, the secrets, the untapped potential. Align yourself with me, and you'll find doors opening that you didn't even know existed."
Hadrian frowned, an air of scepticism surrounding him. "And what's in it for you?"
"Power, Hadrian," Tom stated with conviction. "I seek power, and I can't achieve it alone. With your skills and my guidance, we could be unstoppable."
Hadrian stopped walking, turning to face Tom with a raised eyebrow. "You're asking me to join you in pursuit of power?"
"More like offering," Tom corrected. "I don't make offers lightly, Hadrian. Consider the possibilities. Imagine the heights we could reach together."
Hadrian leaned against the corridor wall, crossing his arms. "And what if I'm not interested in your vision of power?"
"Everyone's interested in power, Hadrian. They just might not admit it," Tom replied, his tone persuasive. "I've seen your ambition on the duelling floor. I've witnessed your desire to be the best. Join me, and you won't just be the best; you'll be unparalleled."
Hadrian's expression remained unreadable, and for a moment, Tom wondered if his attempts were falling on deaf ears. But then Hadrian spoke, “I won’t.”
“Won’t what?”
“I won’t join you. I don’t desire power.” Hadrian said plainly.
Tom’s lips curved into a fake and calculated smile, “The offer will be there when you're ready to rise above the rest."
“I think I can find my own way to the hospital wing now, thanks.” Hadrian brushed Tom off and walked away. Tom felt compelled to follow Hadrian and try to change his mind, but he knew Hadrian was a very stubborn bloke. Tom watched Hadrian walk away, his mind already strategizing the next move. While Hadrian's rejection stung, Tom wasn't one to easily accept defeat.

Walking to his next class, he realised subtlety would be the answer. Hadrian wouldn’t suspect anything, because Tom has been nothing but nice since he arrived. His next class was Transfiguration. With Dumbledore. Tom had always despised the man ever since they met. The old coot relished in knowing he was good, but Tom knew better. No-one was perfect.

Entering the Transfiguration classroom, Tom's eyes unwillingly sought out Dumbledore. The elderly wizard stood at the front of the room, his robes an eyesore to everyone with functioning eyes. He was dressed in mustard yellow robes which clashed horribly with his auburn hair, which was gaining white streaks. He looked like roadkill.
Tom stifled a laugh as he found his seat, near the back and out of Dumbledore’s eyesight. By now, other students had started piling in like bumbling fools. Abraxas emerged from the crowd and sat down next to Tom.
“Does anyone know where Mr Peverell is?” Dumbledore asked, peering around the room.
Tom refrained from rolling his eyes, “He’s in the hospital wing, professor.”
Dumbledore focused on Tom, and Tom could feel the man trying to access his mind.
“We duelled in Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he got injured.”
“Ah. I hope he will be okay.” Dumbledore said in an airy voice.
“I’m sure he will be.” Tom replied categorically.

Dumbledore started discussing the intricacies of advanced Transfiguration spells, drawing complex diagrams on the board with a flick of his wand. Despite the absurdity of Dumbledore's attire, Tom couldn't deny the man's vast knowledge and expertise in the subject. He listened intently, making mental notes of the key points.
When it came time for the practical session, Tom was eager to demonstrate his skills. He carefully selected a small silver goblet from the table in front of him, focusing his energy and concentration on the transformation spell. With a precise wave of his wand and a whispered incantation, the goblet morphed into a delicate white dove. Tom's eyes were fixed on Dumbledore, awaiting his reaction, since many of the other students had barely raised their wands. To his surprise, Dumbledore approached with a smile, "Excellent work, Mr. Riddle," he said, his eyes twinkling with genuine appreciation. "Your command over the spell is commendable."
"Thank you, Professor," Tom replied, masking his inner thoughts with a courteous nod.

Their remaining two classes were Herbology, but since the Professor was sick, they were instructed to have a “free” lesson, where they could catch up on any work. Naturally, Tom went to the library.

His recent interactions with Hadrian weighed on his mind. While Tom was not one to easily admit fault, he understood the importance of mending bridges, especially when it came to someone as potentially influential as Hadrian. Tom's eyes scanned the titles, seeking something that would appease Hadrian's thirst for knowledge and perhaps serve as a peace offering.
As he reached the section dedicated to ancient magical techniques, a particular book caught his eye. Its leather-bound cover was worn, and its title, "Legends of the Hogwarts Founders," was embossed in gold. Tom pulled it off the shelf, intrigued.
Flipping through the pages, Tom's eyes widened as he stumbled upon a section detailing the legend of the Chamber of Secrets. Memories of whispers in the Slytherin common room and tales of a hidden chamber filled with ancient magic came flooding back. Could it be real? And if so, what secrets did it hold?
Tom's musings were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps. He quickly tucked the book under his robe and turned to see the librarian, giving him a stern look, before it relaxed, “Oh. It’s just you, Mr Riddle.”
Tom nodded respectfully and he continued his search, hoping to find something less controversial. Finally, his eyes settled on a book titled, "The Art of Advanced Charms and Protections." Remembering Hadrian's skill in duelling and his interest in defensive spells, Tom thought it might be the perfect peace offering.
With the book in hand, Tom made his way to a secluded table, inscribed a brief note inside the cover, and then set off to find Hadrian. Perhaps this gesture would help mend their strained relationship, or at the very least, serve as another step in Tom's intricate dance of influence and manipulation. He had also found a book which mentioned the Chamber of Secrets, so his trip to the library had benefited both him and Hadrian.

Tom was quite sure Hadrian would’ve been out of the hospital wing now, but he checked just to make sure.
“Are you looking for someone?” The matron, Poppy Pomfrey asked. She was quite a young matron, but she had extraordinary talents in healing.
“Is Hadrian Peverell still here?”
“No. He left some time ago.” Madam Pomfrey answered, “He will probably be in your common room.”
Tom took the information in and then promptly left. He was eager to present Hadrian with the book, as he did want to be on good terms with the boy.

Going down a thin hallway, Orion Black just about ambushed him, “Tom. When will our next meeting be?”
Tom suppressed the urge to run away from the garrulous boy, “I will tell Abraxas when I feel the need to. He will then let you know.”
Orion nodded slowly and continued to walk next to Tom.

The common room was filled with noise as he walked in. Tom keenly got away from Black, who looked like a kicked puppy, and approached Hadrian with a book in hand. "Thought you might find this interesting," he said, offering the book without any ulterior motive evident in his tone.
Hadrian, initially wary of the gesture, took the book and examined the title. "Advanced Defensive Spells," he read aloud, a hint of curiosity creeping into his voice. "Why are you giving this to me?"
Tom leaned in, his voice low. "I've noticed you're quite talented in duelling, but there's always room for improvement. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to have a few more allies in the common room, right?"
Hadrian eyed him suspiciously. "And what do you get out of this?"
Tom feigned innocence. "Can't a fellow student offer a friendly gesture without expecting something in return?"
Hadrian remained silent for a moment, assessing Tom's sincerity. Finally, he sighed. "Fine, I'll give it a read. But this doesn't mean I'm joining you."
Tom grinned. "Fair enough. Just thought you'd find it useful, that's all."

He started walking back into their dorm room, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hadrian pointing his wand at the book, as if he were checking for any spells Tom may’ve placed on it.
In the sanctuary of his dorm, he pulled out his own book and sat down on his own bed, getting ready to read.
Tom's fingers traced the intricate patterns on the cover of the ancient tome he had selected for himself. The room, usually filled with the ambient sounds of his dorm mates, was unusually quiet, but welcomed. The soft rustling of pages and the distant crackle of the fireplace were the only sounds that broke the silence.

As Tom delved deeper into the book's contents, he found himself engrossed in a world of advanced magical theories and intricate spellwork. The pages were filled with annotations and cryptic symbols, indicating that the book had once belonged to a skilled wizard.
Hours seemed to pass in mere minutes as Tom lost himself in the study of powerful enchantments and forgotten rituals. But as he turned the page, a loose sheet fell out from between the leaves, fluttering to the ground. Curiosity piqued, Tom bent down to retrieve it.

The sheet appeared to be a handwritten note, penned in a language that Tom couldn't immediately recognize. The script was elegant, the strokes flowing seamlessly into one another. However, the words seemed to shift and dance on the page, making them difficult to decipher.

Frowning, Tom reached for his wand, murmuring a charm to reveal any hidden messages. As the wand tip glowed, the ink on the page shimmered and settled into a more legible form. The note read:

"In twilight's hush, where shadows rush,
Where ancient stone meets dusk's lone crutch,
Find the core where shadows play,
Yet tread with care, by night and day.
For age may cloak, and truth may bend,
In webs of old where mysteries end."

He glanced around, ensuring he was still alone. The room, bathed in the soft glow of the dying embers in the fireplace, felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos that threatened to unravel. But Tom knew better than to let his guard down. Whoever had left him this message had gone to great lengths to ensure its secrecy.
Drawing a deep breath, he began to ponder the meaning behind the words. "In twilight's hush, where shadows rush..." The imagery painted was vivid, evoking a sense of urgency and mystery. Was it a location? A time? Or perhaps a metaphorical hint?
His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor outside. Tom's grip tightened around his wand, every sense alert.
With practised ease, he extinguished the dimming light of the wand. Silently, he concealed the note beneath his pillow.

"Still up, Tom?" Abraxas's voice broke the silence, his eyes momentarily catching the dim light as they flitted to the book in Tom's hands.
Tom gave a slight nod, his fingers delicately sliding a worn bookmark between the pages of the book. "Just some light reading," he replied, his voice calm despite the undercurrent of excitement that pulsed beneath his words.
A soft hum of acknowledgment came from Abraxas as he settled back onto his bed, the soft rustle of sheets punctuating the quiet. "Found anything useful?” he murmured, his voice tinged with drowsiness.
A smile tugged at the corners of Tom's lips, though Abraxas's heavy-lidded gaze didn't catch the fleeting expression. "Yes, I believe so," Tom replied, his voice betraying a hint of intrigue.
Abraxas's response was a soft, indistinct murmur, his breathing deepening as sleep claimed him. The room was now filled with a gentle rhythm of breaths, Tom’s mind was still lingering on the fact that Hadrian was still steadfast in his resistance. Each refusal, each moment of defiance, seemed to be a crack in the meticulously constructed facade Tom had built around himself. Even if other people hadn’t noticed yet, it still gnawed at Tom.