TOM JERKS AWAKE IN A COLD SWEAT, his heart racing - feeling like it's about to beat out of his chest. He doesn't remember most of the nightmare, except that it was made even worse by its vivid and detailed nature - full colour, sound, even feeling - but what he does remember clearly is terrible enough.
They were stuck in a tent with nothing to do but read the same two dozen books repeatedly, play chess games that the red-headed boy inevitably won, and have debates with the brown-haired girl—the fight the three of them had.
I would've thought Dumbledore would have told you something useful!
Your parents are dead! You have no family!
He desired to tear that insipid fool apart with his bare hands, with no need for magic or a wand except to prolong the pain. The cold, empty feeling that engulfed him then, the realization that he never truly mattered... cut him deep. It tore something within him.
Or, as Tom's mind suggests, within her. The vividness and realism suggest a flashback, a memory. It's not his memory, but he can accurately guess whose it is.
Evelynn's. This is likely because he saw her memories - his mind just replayed that particular one.
That feeling was lying in wait, he surmised, for her to be rejected by one of her closest friends - Ronald Weasley, he believes that was his name. She accused him of being indifferent to the people she considered family, saying he had hoped Dumbledore would have shared something useful, and left when she needed him. It solidifies in Tom's mind that she anticipates everyone around her to abandon her, just as everyone in her previous life did. She firmly believes she will always be alone in this world, regardless of her location or time, simply because she is unacquainted with any other life. She is convinced that no one will ever care enough to stay with her.
You're right, of course.
Tom musters every bit of self-control, willpower, and instinct for self-preservation he possesses to refrain from screaming at the sound of the voice. A voice whose origin he is utterly clueless about. It's in his head, yet it's not, and he doesn't recognize it. It's terrifying him!
Hmm, so jittery. Much like my Mistress.
Tom spins around, grateful that Slytherin students from third year onwards each have their own rooms due to the extensive size of the dungeons. He would find it challenging to explain why he's illuminating the entire room with the most potent Lumos spell he can muster in his sleep-deprived state. However, he's frustrated by his inability to locate the source of the unfamiliar voice.
She reacted the same way when we first met, although her response was much more... explosive. I guess it's a result of surviving a war and then having to go into hiding once again. And before you start questioning your sanity, you're not going mad. I'm just here for a brief conversation.
Tom sits shakily on his bed, recalling the memory Evelynn showed him of how she first encountered Death on Halloween. Yes, he recollects her casting spells as if her life hung in the balance, particularly nasty ones at that. This could only mean...
Very good, you've always been a sharp one when complete.
"Death?" Tom glances around at the shadows, anticipating the entity he previously saw in Evelynn's memories.
Indeed. Or Thanatos, if you prefer. You're handling this revelation better than when you found out about my Mistress.
Tom blushes at the memory of his reaction to learning about Evelynn's immortality - Merlin. He had never fainted before, and it was quite embarrassing.
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evelynn | t.riddle
FanfictionDespite the existence of magic and Muggle myths, Tom Riddle had been told that the Hallows were simply a myth and the Master of Death was a figment of the imagination. However, on Halloween night of his second year, a girl named Evelynn Peverell eme...
