Unravelled² → Tom Riddle [Rewritten]

CHAPTER ONE

Carnage followed Tom wherever he went. His siege in Nottingham went exactly as his previous battles had gone, without a hitch.

Thousands of muggles and wizards were cornered with nowhere to go. Tom's army was invincible and nobody stood a chance against him. Those who were smart fell to their knees and surrendered, those who weren't were pushed down, with barely the chance to breathe before they were hit with a flash of green.

Over the years of building his army, Tom had learnt exactly how they worked. Like an army general, he had intensive battle plans that always worked. He knew where his subjects' strengths lay and he made them do exactly that. Information that could be taken was and for those without information, Tom was more merciful. He needed nothing from them, they were simply pawns caught in the wrong game of chess, but leaving them alive could give them the power to kill the Queen.

Tom almost enjoyed being involved in the action. Despite being unable to feel joy, he assumed it would feel similar to how he felt after taking a life. The electricity that surged through his body would debilitate anyone but for him, it enhanced his power. After each kill, he was stronger. After each muggle fell to the ground, he rose higher up. Watching people fall gave him the steps he needed to reach the top and he wouldn't stop until he controlled everything. As each body fell to their knees, he used them as steps to reach his next goal. No death was useless to him, he planned strategically in a way that few others could. He wanted people to know his name but he wasn't ready yet. He knew there was nobody else with skills like his, but hiding his identity in a siege was easy: he left not a single witness.

Tom knew he would soon be ready for the world to know his name, but whilst he wasn't, he used copycat tactics in battle. He would march on towns and cities in ways he had seen before, he would kill in the sorts of ways he could only ever have imagined, he would leave no one left alive.

As he walked through the burning streets of Nottingham, he felt power surging through him. Heat from the flames travelled through his body, igniting a fire in his heart and a thirst for more. Power was something he knew he could have, he knew there was almost nothing out of reach for him and he knew others would give themselves up rather than fight him but that wasn't what he wanted. He didn't want it easy, he didn't want to be handed his success on a plate like thousands of others before him, he wanted to take what was rightfully his, no matter what the cost.

Watching a muggle plead for their life made him feel in control. He could manipulate them to feel however he wanted, he could make them do whatever he wished and that gave him the power he craved. He knew he could simply kill them with one fell swoop of his wand, but that gave him no satisfaction. He enjoyed the feeling of taking rather than receiving. He needed to make a statement with each death, each siege grew bigger and more elaborate than the one before, drawing the attention that Tom craved. He was an artist and he didn't want his work going unnoticed.

Flashes of green flew across the muddy battlefield, each one barely covering the sound of the screams that came before. With each flick of his wand, another muggle fell to the ground and his body count grew higher. Tom edged forwards with each kill, his army following close behind, pushing forward to the centre of the town where his objective was awaiting. Sieges were never particularly difficult for Tom, he and his army could take out a whole town in minutes, leaving nothing but rubble behind. But Tom was a performer, each siege was a show and he demanded a standing ovation. He wanted the crowd throwing roses and calling out his name as he left and that's exactly what he got. Every siege got front page media coverage, after each siege he grew more and more powerful. Hundreds of wizards and witches would pledge their life to him, to the future that he promised for them, without a second thought. They worshipped at his altar and threw all the roses he demanded.

As he entered the centre of town, his objective was in sight. With his army keeping his objective free of bystanders, he knew it would be an easy retrieval. He navigated through the narrow, winding streets, disposing of all passers by with the simple silent flick of his wand. He followed the exact route he had memorised until he found himself at the bottom of the stairs of the Town Hall. Wand poised, Tom made his way up the cobbled steps and waltzed straight in through the front doors. He could instantly tell that the infrastructure had been designed by muggles, the architecture was far inferior to that of the Malfoy Manor and the design had no logic. Pillars stood where pillars shouldn't, causing Tom's annoyance at muggles to grow further. They were by far inferior to him, even unable to build simple infrastructure without making tremendous architectural mistakes.

The hall was deserted. Papers flew across the cobbled floor, with each gush of wind sending them flying further and further away. Tom knew the kind of information he needed wouldn't be written down, he knew exactly who would hold it and he knew they would be waiting for him. From the way the siege had begun, any bystander would be able to tell who was behind it, any wizard who read the knees would know the flee the scene but he knew this one wouldn't. He knew this one would want in on the action.

Despite the loudness of the screams from the streets, Tom could clearly hear one pair of footsteps upstairs, rushing across the building from room to room. . Closing his eyes, he locked onto the sound, almost able to picture exactly who was moving upstairs. As a predator, Tom had always enjoyed the adrenaline that came with a chase, but after hours of chasing worthless muggles, he was tired. He wanted what he came for and he wanted it now.

"You cannot hide." He called, his voice echoing through the building. "I will leave here with exactly what I want. You will either surrender the information to me, or I will take it by any means necessary. We both know you don't want to die." With each word, he took a stride closer to the grand staircase before him. "I'm coming up now, you best be ready and willing to sacrifice the information you have, I'm not feeling all too lenient right now."

Tom rarely spoke to his victims. When the siege began, they knew it was them that he was here to find, they knew what he wanted and that their fate was already sealed. Pleading for their lives was futile and they knew it, but Tom knew this one was different. They weren't ready to die yet, he needed them to collect more information for him, and he knew that they would. Even though they wouldn't know what they were doing, he knew all too well that they would oblige.

He made his way up the staircase, his shoes colliding with each step, warning his victim of where he was and how fast he was approaching. By the time he was at the top of the stairs, the footsteps running around had stopped. Not a single sound came from the inside of the Town Hall.

Tom drowned out the sounds of the battle unfolding in the streets. Every death was meaningless to him until he got what he wanted. He had come to Nottingham with the sole hopes of retrieving confidential information and he wouldn't leave until it was his. Tom followed the corridor in the direction he last heard footsteps, his wand ready to strike if he felt any resistance. He stalked silently along the corridor until he came to a door, held shut with only a simple spell.

Tom, like the brightest witches and wizards, could use non verbal magic. With a simple flick of his wand, the door unlocked with a clicking sound, revealing an office. Tom entered the room, observing his surroundings with a quick glance around it. Rows upon rows of documents were laid out on a wooden table, stacked neatly into piles, the word confidential printed across each and every sheet. Tom fumbled with the documents, flipping the pages over and scanning each one. He knew what he needed would not have been written down but nevertheless, his curiosity took control.

After carefully scanning each pile, he inched forwards towards the monstrous bookshelf that lined the walls. Books were strategically placed upon the shelf coordinated by colour, with each muted tone fading into the next, all stood tall like a soldier reporting for duty, all except one.

As soon as Tom manoeuvred the novel, he heard a click identical to the one that had opened the door. On command, the wall of bookshelves began to pull apart, causing Tom to raise his wand in preparation for the guest on the other side. When the bookshelves had parted all that they would, Tom took a step forwards, and then another.

He saw her almost instantly after the first step forwards. Her auburn hair tumbled down her shoulders and her face took on the exact expression he had expected, fear. Neither of them said a word as their eyes locked onto each others and the girls face fell. SHe appeared just as she had all those years ago. 

"It's been far too long Evelyn."