Tom Riddle and the Pure-Blood Prince

Power of Obsessive Love

Chapter Twenty: Power of Obsessive Love

The next morning the sun streamed in from the high windows as students in the Great Hall lingered over the four tables, finishing with breakfast.

Professor Slughorn jostled through the crowds, until arriving near the back of the Slytherin table.

In his hands was a mass of parchment concerning the N.E.W.T.s the Sixth years qualified for and the scheduled times to attend them.

Eileen was not watching her Head of House approaching, but was staring at a worn piece of parchment. It was the marks she had received for her O.W.L.s in July:

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS

EILEEN PRINCE HAS RECEIVED:

ANCIENT RUNES............................................................O
ARITHMANCY..................................................................P
ASTRONOMY..................................................................O
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES.......................................O
CHARMS........................................................................O
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS.................................O
HERBOLOGY..................................................................E
HISTORY OF MAGIC.........................................................O
POTIONS........................................................................O
TRANSFIGURATION.........................................................E

Wallowing internally over the mistakes she recalled making, she thought 'Defense Against the Dark Arts...was suprising. I thought I made at least one huge error....Care of Magical Creatures....Ogg's test was too easy, so it wasn't talent. I failed Arithmancy, so that's one less class. But who cares? It's my mother's alley, not mine. I always abhorred it.'

Reviewing the grade of 'Exceeds Expectations' in both Herbology and Transfiguration, Eileen continued the vituperative railing, What if those teachers, only take those who get 'Outstanding'?

"Eileen...Eileen Prince...Let's see," Slughorn had reached her name. "Nine OWLs! Good gracious. Your schedule is for six classes, all taught at N.E.W.T. level."

Eileen took the piece of yellowed parchment the size of an index card from across the table and smiled at the fact that she would still get to learn Transfiguration and Herbology.

Next to Slughorn, was Tom Riddle not far off from where Eileen was, but on the other side of the table.

"Tom...Twelve O.W.L.s. Top marks in everything. Astounding academic achievement, my boy!," Slughorn thundered, getting the notice of some of the surrounding students.

Riddle took it with a smug smile, but all the same, heat was climbing up his pale face. He really wasn't too pleased with himself, even though he was now enrolled in all seven classes, but he made sure to convey the aura that he was.

Slughorn leant closer to Tom, whispering in his ear an admonishment, "You won't be needing a time-turner anymore...just seven classes now....It'll be much more intensive, mind you."

Riddle nodded and dutifully assented, "I'll be sure to shoulder that responsibility, sir."

Slughorn finally left the group of older students. Riddle got up to make a short trip to the Common Room. Shortly afterward, would be his first class of term this Thursday morning. N.E.W.T. Arithmancy, the one class Eileen is not enrolled in.

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An hour and a quarter later, Riddle was finished with a thoroughly stimulating Arithmancy class.

Temporarily absent-minded, in deep thought over theoretical concepts of magical numerology, Riddle was planning on going to the library.

He was thinking on the lesson he'd just had, which was about how to break a curse. His brilliant, yet twisted mind saw how being aware the way curses can be broken, would pave the way to create stronger curses on objects, including the future horcruxes.

But as he neared the library corridor an unpleasant reminder surfaced.

Tom had agreed he would assist the First years from their History of Magic lesson to their next class. Evidently, Minerva's 'Objectives List' was to be taken seriously despite Riddle's qualms voiced on the train yesterday.

Riddle had tabulated the best times for himself, with the other Prefects last night. He would only have to do it twice a day for one week, but it was still a hindrance.

Retracing his steps, and then proceeding to the first floor, he thought it a loss to be wasting his time. Instead of accumulating knowledge during his new free period, he had to use it for the sake of annoying dunderheads, as that was what he referred to them as.

Professor Binns sailed out through the wall, just as Riddle arrived. Then out came all the First years, rushing beyond the classroom door.

Only some of the crowd of young First years, noticed the elder boy with the Prefect badge. Most of them, were still talking, their conversation droning on like a bees buzzing.

"The seventh floor to Defense Against the Dark Arts!..Get in a line," Tom Riddle commanded.

Riddle tasted the air with his own power radiating from the announcement. Most of the First years were shocked into submission.

Except for one of the smallest and shortest of them. Riddle saw this very curly black-haired figure maneuveur to the head, despite being from the back.

Riddle followed them on the sidelines, as he directed them up the Main stairs.

Throughout the journey, he gave the line a few more of his commands until he said, "We're taking a short-cut. Behind the tapestry, turn left...there's a ramp to get from the fourth to the seventh floor."

Riddle quickly got to the tapestry and held it open for the First years to pass under. This would make things faster and the sooner he could go to the library to study curses and curse-breaking.

But behind the tapestry issued several high-pitched screams. Riddle darted to the other side of the tapestry, and then the last few followed.

"It's a ghost!," Augusta Bulstrode cried out, backing into a corner.

It was the rambunctious poltergeist, Peeves. Floating right in front of their faces in his flamboyant clothing and carrying a bell. He began to ring it, making an insipid clanging.

"Ickle bitty firsties...Rise and shine!"

Most of the First years backed further into the wall, only a few brave enough to pass the deviant spirit.

"That is not quite a ghost. It's the school poltergeist," Riddle informed them.

Yet most of the First years ignored the Prefect, huddled in a small group whimpering.

"I'll summon the Barron, Peeves!..."

Shortly after that, Riddle pulled his wand out, as the threat of the Bloody Baron apparently wasn't working.

Peeves lolled at a very fast pace, ""Oh, most think he's silly, the Tommy boy Prefect, but some are so stupored they think he's just mad. But Peevesy knows better and says that he's bad-"

But whatever Peeves was going to say or do next was cut short.

Riddle jabbed his wand in the Poltergeist's direction, and by the next second, Peeves was charmed stuck to the wall, but now howling like a maniac.

Completely careless to Peeve's prior insults, he pressed, "Get a move on. Back in line, unless you want to be late your first day."

They quickly complied, now in awe at this Prefect and the alacrity with whcih magic was used. For many, it was the first time they had ever seen someone wave a wand.

One of the girls named Bridget Cornfoot (a Ravenclaw), was very sensitive. Her face started to screw up, like she was about to shed tears. Bridget had thought it somewhat cruel what this boy had done to Peeves.

Another girl, Sylvia Macdougal (a Hufflepuff) noticed Bridget's discomfort. Sylvia started to wonder what it could be when she remembered what the Headmaster had said last night. She piped up, "I thought the rule is magic isn't allowed except in class?"

Riddle responded, "Rules aren't set in stone here. You'll soon see everyone does magic outside class, or at least everyone whose got nerve." Tom said this charmingly and referred to people who've got nerve as an appeal to their fears to take risks.

Something Peeves had said clunked into place for the curly-haired boy at the head of the line. Being a pure-blood, he had already heard from cousins about someone at school who was the leader of a gang that his cousins were in. They said, they were under an Unbreakable Vow and couldn't divulge much information, lest they would die. But this First year, had a good hypothesis, as to whom it might be.

He jogged up the ramp to get closer to the Prefect assisting them. Having the nerve to handshake with both hands he said, "Pleased to meet you. I'm Alphard Black. I'm in Slytherin too! My family is 'Toujour Pur.' Been that way for ages. What about your name?"

Riddle was caught off guard by this random affront.

Looking this particular First year full in the face, his dark eyes glinted into the other boy's curiously. "Riddle. Tom Riddle. Like I said, a Prefect. With the power to give out detention. So I suggest you stop cajoling me into whatever it is you're after. I guarantee, you won't succeed."

Ridlde made this quip as he intuituively knew exactly what Alphard wanted. He could deduce after the short intake into Alphard's mind with Legilimency that he knew something about the 'Dark Order'. But Riddle wasn't about to let a naïve, insecure First year in, unless perhaps they proved to be an exceptional asset.

Not the least bit brow-beaten, Alphard Black just casted a crazy smile, his eyes lit up and he laughed sycophantically.

The line was just about approaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class in the corridor, with Riddle bringing up the flank. He could finally see them off to Professor Merrythought's supervision and go back to his business.

Riddle turned around to go in the opposite direction. When his eyes lit up, slightly annoyed. Alphard Black, was looking right up into his face, and now tapped his shoulder.

He asked with incessant eagerness, the insane smile still plastered, "So, Riddle are you pureblood"?

Raising an eye-brow Riddle made an obscene hand gesture as he showed the ring on his right middle-finger. "What do call this, Black?"

"Er...I don't what-" finally becoming intimidated. The Prefect was now taking up all his space, towering over him.

"Peverell coat of arms! A pure-blood symbol, from the Gaunt line. If you ever research you'll see how revered that is. This...ring is also a reminder of some dear activities of mine. None of which concern you. Do I make myself plain?"

Alphard nodded slowly in awe of Riddle's authoritarian dominance. But thinking he was off the hook, he returned to his dumb smile.

Speaking in a dull voice, and rolling his eyes slightly Riddle continued, "To wipe that smile off, I'm arranging you a detention. A detention with the caretaker Saturday."

Turning to leave Riddle finished, "My personal life is out of bounds..." Riddle's echoing footsteps, then resounded back down the corridor, disappearing.

Alphard just crossed his arms and entered his class, stomping. He was about a minute late. He was feeling determined spunk to get in the Dark Order. He just knew that had to be the gang leader!