Hogwarts: a school of Witchcraft and Love (Tom Marvolo Riddle x F!reader)

Chapter 5-04

Walden Macnair had little passion in being near a self-proclaimed Lord. He said as much, questioning the delinquent leading him onwards, as if he were crazy.

His guide must have noticed the cautiousness but just shrugged with smile that he was slowly starting to think of as sarcastic.

"To-" the greasy snake hesitated, but corrected himself to, "our Lord's persuasive. Ya don't have anything to lose out of being in his service-count on it. More room to walk the halls when the mudbloods are taken care of, but ya can't keep him waiting, ol' pal buddy Mcnerd."

Those words were not a lie and the weight of them was personally felt by all of them. Their backs already bore the marks of going against time which had been quite the attitude adjuster.

This statement was nothing like how Macnair saw other students-equal to each other- yet this Lord supposedly had no equal, and was waiting to have him.

The sixth year frowned, challenging as far as he dared, but ultimately the other let him go that time. Let him prove himself worthy enough, tenacious enough, so that when he baited out some lowlife, mudblood or Muggleborn-lover, the Ravenclaw would tremble with adrenaline and asked whether or not he had passed the test yet.

Their history with them could be described as interesting, in the same way you could say the Nazis had interesting ideas for racial categorization though they had no gas chambers to speak of.

Great-Brittain, where everyone could be who they wanted to be. Uphold the principle of free speech, even if it meant that the speech in question was one centering about the going against the supremacy of magical beings. Denying their existence at all.

So how free were witches and wizards in actuality when they had to hide themselves from the rest of the world?

Macnair hadn't turned them down yet, which meant nothing, but answered some of their questions that he figured were a good trade, that couldn't hurt to give them in exchange for exam answers.

Tactics for evading security, social secrets to be used for blackmail. Ravenclaws excelled in Transfiguration so they could use his expertise to conceal their identities. And recipes to gain an advantage in combat.

Macnair's clever, but really needed to get the answers so he could skip studying.

And as Avery had said: there was no running away from service once agreed to. Even if they rethought after, even if they said they wanted to step away, their Lord would always be there regardless. All 6'1" of him would always find a way to be there and punish and have them scramble for forgiveness.

"Are you waiting for an owl or something? Crack on with it cunt! Under new management you're gonna have to be on time so get your arse in gear!" Said the one delivering the memo, who was supposed to be standing in front of a door that opened for anyone who needed it, but instead made a show of stomping when he glanced back over to ask why Macnair wasn't keeping up.

Macnair silently thanked the arsehole for being such a loud talker, his voice bouncing off the walls giving him a direct path to walk.

Predictably, he didn't respond. Had him stumbling in his nonsensible shoes, scurrying to make up the distance.

"Sooo... What changed ya mind?" Typical Avery, the big-mouthed moron had zero respect to boundaries. One of his ears was pressed against the corridor in hopes of hearing voices somewhere behind it.