For the Greater Good || Tom Riddle ||

Chapter Twenty: The Dungeons

The stone corridors were alight with a haunting glow from the enchanted torches that lined the passageway leading to the Dungeons. Gwen hung to the walls like honey, slinking soundlessly in the shadows as she trailed after Riddle.

He walked with a determined pace like he had somewhere to be at a certain time, his jaw set firm as he strode down the drafty corridor. Gwen followed from afar, keeping a cautious distance as not to alert him of her presence.

The Dungeon Corridor was colder than the main castle due to the fact that it was constructed underneath the murky waters of the Black Lake. In this part of the castle, strange sounds seemed to be an ever-present melody that hung in the stagnant air.

It was undeniable that the boy escaped his conversation with Dumbledore in a hurry, so much so that it seemed as though Tom was on a mission to solve the mystery behind Myrtle's death himself. Gwen's suspicion only grew as he continued to weave down winding hallways—he was most certainly not headed for the Slytherin Common Room.

As they walked further into the grim depths of the castle, it became darker, mustier. Moss began to appear on the walls and in a few places Gwen could spot drops of moisture accumulating on the floor. Gwen half-suspected for Tom to lead her to a dead-end, whirl around and disarm her. Thoughts of Jane lying on the cold stone floor and Myrtle, pale and limp inside of a coffin drifted to her mind.

But Riddle did not seem to notice her hiding in the dim lighting as he sidled up to a plain, brown door just off the Dungeon Corridor with his wand at the ready. In the flickering light, Gwen could see his dark eyes ablaze with cunning.

She quirked a brow as strange, scurrying sounds emitted from the small cupboard. A rough, whispery voice could be heard coming from inside of the room. Gwen quickly ducked around the corner, her back flush against the wall as Tom made sure the coast was clear before slipping effortlessly passed the door.

"Evening, Hagrid," Tom said pointedly.

The stone walls refused to absorb any of the sound coming from inside of the cupboard and instead amplified it ten-fold. Gwen refused to dare peek around the corner in fear of being caught spying, but she didn't need to as the voices echoed off the walls as clear as day. Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen could see faint shadows dance against the walls—Tom's chiseled features moving forward, toward a great looming silhouette. She clutched her wand tightly in her hand.

Tom's charmingly polite yet chilling voice cut through the air. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Hagrid. Now I'm sure you didn't mean for it to kill anyone but-"

"Yer can't! It never killed no one! Yer don't understan'!" a booming voice exclaimed with fright.

Unable to help it, Gwen inched forward along the wall and peered around the corner. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the large boy that towered over Tom's slender figure. She was certain she had seen him before eating at the Gryffindor table, but due to his height, she couldn't figure out how old he was. But she did know his name—Rubeus Hagrid. He had spoken to Simon on several occasions.

Although Tom was much shorter, he filled the room with his commanding presence. The large boy was backed into the corner, next to a blocky metal box as Tom moved forward with his wand of ivory-like wood raised.

"Don't lie, Hagrid. I suppose you just let it out for some exercise, you didn't mean for it to kill anyone. But now you have to face the consequences. The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow for her body, the least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered."

"It wasn' him!" Hagrid cried. "Aragog never killed no one! Never!"

A look of false sympathy passed over Tom's face. It was look that had fooled many at Hogwarts into believing that Tom was a poor, but brilliant, parent-less, but so brave, model student. Gwen was familiar with the look and knew it to be nothing more than a ploy, but she couldn't help to admit that he sold his innocence well.