Tom Riddle and the Pure-Blood Prince

Bizarre Remonstrance

Chapter Twenty-One: Bizarre Remonstrance

The Dark Order members had an increasing sense of anticipation into the second week of the autumn term. Riddle had not formally announced when exactly it would be held, as he wanted them to be clueless about the first one. Strategically, the element of surprise was always worth utilizing to instill fear.

So on a Saturday evening Tom finally activated his protean charmed onyx stone that in turn, caused the others' stones to burn and glow.

A rush of anxiety and excitement flooded Eileen, when it came alive within her pocket when sending a message in the Owlery. It was a letter to her father, Graham Prince, addressed to where he worked as Chief Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. After tying the parchment rather sloppily on the school owl, she hastened to get to the Room of Requirement having been informed this was the location for unannounced meetings.

Beyond the horizon between the castle's towers was framed a blood-red sunset. The autumn's air stirred into a breeze that seemed to whisper a warning, and she shivered uncontrollably. Eileen did not understand why she would do so. What was so terrible about Tom Riddle that simply the prospect of his presence caused anxiety?

Meanwhile, Tom Riddle sealed the room so only those with one of the charmed onyx stones could get through the magical barrier he placed at the entrance just then.

What the room had became could not have suited Voldemort's desire to set the mood for the meeting better. It was perfectly sinister, just like himself. Skulls suspended from the ceiling like jack o' lanterns with candles contained inside them, making dim lighting as they floated about.

He was even more pleased with the kaleidoscopic walls his mind had subconsciously harnessed. The walls were like jewels, with mirrors illuminating the candlelight. All together, the combination of the skull lights floating and the mirrors created an optical illusion that the room was moving.

He waited breathlessly in the center, staring. Tom could view ten varying versions of himself from different angles from the mirror walls simultaneously. It was quite pleasing to his enormous self-worth. It fit the agenda of the meeting: to recapitulate the standards Riddle demanded of them.

Within minutes they arrived in groups and gravitated around Riddle in a circle. Evidently, this was typical procedure when their master gave no immediate instruction.

Eileen absorbed herself into the dozen wizards, as the lone witch within Tom Riddle's inner-circle feeling a unity she'd never experienced, yet was glad for it.

Tom Riddle continued to wait, silently surveying each follower individually. A sense of impending doom developed, hanging in the air. Most followers looked down, hunched in black school-robes, the hoods obstructing their visages.

"Greetings my friends...We stand on the eve of another year of opportunity to divest the truth..."

When their cult leader first addresses them it is the custom to kneel. Almost automatically, they kneeled as one, except Eileen who followed suit right afterward. Never in attendance at this particular formal ritual, she was not familiar with it.

"You must be grateful for the inside, privileged knowledge you'll attain with me. The gift of awareness I bequeath to you," Riddle spoke like a great orator, establishing his legitimacy with charm.

As they kneeled most of the follower's looked up their eyes widening, from mixtures of curiosity to fear. For beside Riddle there was something he had hidden in the Room of Requirement a few days ago. Whatever it was, a veil was covering it.

Waving his hand with the Peverell coat of arms still enshrined there, Riddle commenced, "And to know ...what I am. For I have a destiny much greater than mere wizardry. When the 'Dark Order' is known, they will all know for sure, that it is us who have the right idea..."

A murmur of assent swept through the group, shifting to guilty shivers over each's hidden doubts and imperfections. Yet glossed over the guilt was the exterior of reverence towards their leader.

It seemed like nobody else was going to get to speak. Riddle ruthlessly manifested more to his speech, "I ask to follow the examples set since the dawn of magical history. Yes, even the International Statute of Secrecy is significant. As that exemplifies how I demand you to behave. Relations with...muggles, relations with squibs is also absolutely forbidden! Or any whose blood is less than pure. I shall know all about breeching those laws and you will be severely punished."

There was no mistaking it now, the atmosphere grew into a state of anxious guilt, yet the irony was that not one of them had committed these crimes.

Riddle does not literally care for the statute of secrecy where wizards agree they won't reveal the magical world to outsiders, but he was creating his own form of propaganda. This was something many of these future Death Eaters would identify with and thus comply to, as they had been taught to abide by it in their families all their life. He always manipulated their ingrained beliefs and values.

Lestrange eyed Rosier from across the circle afraid he knew a horrible secret about him. Mulciber was glaring at Eileen with repugnance. He countered that perhaps she had told Voldemort something about himself and Eileen picking up on Mulciber's look of disdain was discomfited.

Riddle noticing the factions forming, chose to ignore their repercussions for the moment.

He went onward with a saccharine smile, "My plans include getting agents from other wizarding institutions, those outside Hogwarts. They won't really know, at least temporarily how they're entwined with us....It's to dispense my ideas. Ridding the world of those whom dare live amongst us. How to accomplish such a deployable, useful goal?"


Allowing no input or criticism, Riddle postulated an answer to his question immediately, "The answer is to get supporters to endorse us. Allies, if you will. We will show them the vanguard of the highest wizarding ideals. And the rest , those who dare oppose me...will have their reputations besmirched, and of course, be killed. That fool, that champion of mudbloods and commoners will lose in the end. I'm speaking of Albus Dumbledore...."

"So, I've been promulgating this term, as I said last year I would, on taking our power beyond Hogwarts, even before I finish with school. How to embody our ideals.... And so, I conceived a clandestine operation. Only, two of you will be chosen. I shall assess who can uphold this great responsibility and serve me with honor. And I realized to myself, through all these efforts, I can provide you with new victims. More profound power over the rest of the wizarding race....But I still wonder whom in this "Dark Order" truly is conformed?..."

The final question in young Voldemort's monologue seemed to be a warning.

Augustus Rookwood was reduced to tears, as if he had met a holy man. He bent forward and kissed the hem of young Voldemort's robes delicately. "My lord, I surrender my talents. I am yours to take on this most vital mission!"

Rookwood was desperate for the glory and confident Riddle would pick him, wrongly assuming he was the prime candidate because he was in the Department of Mysteries accelerated program.

"Yes, Rookwood, you've done much for your master. But don't be so arrogant to already proclaim yourself the one to act on my behalf in demonstrating the truth."

There was a lengthy silence, and then Riddle threw his head back, "I sense treachery. However covert, there is great treachery present tonight."

With a flick of his wrist, the object underneath the veil was exposed.

It was a glass eye. In it's center was the tiny black pupil, bloody veins sprouting outward.

Riddle casually directed the eye with his wand, and it went straight for Evan Rosier.

He collapsed under the pressure, his palms flat on the stone floor. "I confess my abysmal recollections. I'll do better to remember next time. To uphold the history of our race. And our Lord, who is of the highest order. I-I failed you! ," he sobbed.

Riddle's expression remained blank, as he softly interrogated, "Oh, yes. How may that have been, Rosier?"

Glancing at his peers terrified Rosier screamed, "The mudbloods! I met one, and we've remained close contact, My Lord. Do forgive me!"

It was a lie, and Voldemort did not believe for a second it wasn't. This was really all just a game. Yet the other followers, assumed it as a true confession and it only increased each other's anxiety.

The eye continued to stare at Rosier, who was avoiding it at all costs. But the followers felt a sense of mystique surrounding it, as they did not know the eye's purpose. Naturally, what one does not understand, is something one grows to fear.

Tom Riddle stepped from Avery and addressed the others, "You hear this? You hear this?! Exactly, what I imagined. I cannot trust, the flesh and blood of my own. What a travesty!"

He was playing it up, as if deeply disappointed and repulsed.

Out of nowhere, he made a three-hundred-and-sixty-degreed turn toward another.

The glass eye moved in sync. To the followers it was an illusion that the eye had moved of it's own volition.

"Lestrange! What have you done for this organization during the two month holiday? Well?!...Better than Rosier, I bet?"

Feeling ostracized, Rabastan tried to subsume himself with an ingratiating smile. "I have snubbed the lesser kind every opportunity I could, My Lord. Recited our ideals, vindicating them to all I associate with that dare disagree!"

Lestrange finished his short rant, desperately glancing at his master, panting like he'd run a race.

Riddle looked from Lestrange and back to Rosier, pretending he was about to favour one over the other.

Taking a few lazy steps back over to Evan Rosier, Riddle drawled, "What a competition this is. Whom can better serve me? This time around, Lestrange is certainly the victorious one. Your confession is your apology, Rosier. No need for more. Except...."

Young Voldemort raised his wand over his head, and issued the Cruciatus curse.

Evan Rosier from the kneeling position, grappled on the ground.

Once the curse was released, Rosier felt a tremendous catharsis. He had actually masochistically enjoyed the experience and he cried, "Thank-you master!"

Rabastan Lestrange had the most coveted sour look on his face, despite avoiding punishment. He was jealous of the lack of attention and he thought Evan Rosier was making him look inadequate.

The eye wended it's way around the circle of just under a dozen. Mulciber, his big hands clasped into fists shook violently as the eye targeted him.

Yet Tom Riddle chose not to interrogate Mulciber. Allowing the eye to finish storing it's whole warehouse of data on the followers without comment. It was true Riddle was never passing up an opportunity to do Legilmency, but the glass eye would store insurmountable loads of information on the followers. Riddle would have a treasure trove of nearly every little detail . There was no room for secrets when it came to the leader's awareness.

As the glass eye analyzed the last of the followers, Riddle watched serenely, his chest puffing out slightly, supremely confident that he knew what he was doing.

Finally, the eye roved to Eileen Prince. She had turned a shade of green from the building tension of the last several minutes, waiting for her turn.

Lord Voldemort had planned to set in on her last, because he was choosing not to store anything on her. The glass eye had a limited capacity. Riddle felt he'd learned everything pertinent about the girl previously from possessing her body last summer.

Waving his yew wand twice, none surmised that the magical eye was inactivated now. He let it linger over the lone witch in the circle, trembling under it's laser-like gaze.

Eileen imploringly glanced up at Tom Ridlde's handsome face, her expression morphing into mortification. She recalled her blunders in the first potions class, and so dispelled her arms stretched outward, "I'm not good enough for you, My Lord. I can't help at all. I'm an invalid."

"It's hard to believe that you're a witch. Anyone could have helped me as you did, Eileen. I ask, lighting my cauldron....?"

Riddle stopped for a moment to listen to his follower's desrisive laughter in response to the sarcastic remarks. It was like music to his ears. All of this combated what Eileen had done during that Potions lesson a couple of weeks ago.

"Do you honestly think I'd appreciate such weak gestures? No....They were simply an obvious suggestion of your stupidity."

Brushing Eileen off like an irksome fly, Riddle finished, "That brings us to the dismissal."

One at a time, each follower took their turn to go into the center, kissing the hem of young Voldemort's robes, just as he expected of them.

Tom Riddle was quite satisifed with how he'd just treated Eileen. Giving an appearance of being sweetly sinister, the followers did not succumb to the realization of how Eileen Prince had succeeded in embarrassing him on that day. He got back at her, without being overly obvious or sinking to inordinate depths of revenge.

Tom Riddle nodded significantly, towards Eileen. She interpreted it as a signal to stay behind. Within a minute all the followers had departed the Room of Requirement.

Riddle did not seem to take anymore notice of Eilee though. He picked up the glass eye, covering it once more with the heavy cloth, and held it gingerly.

With a most pleased expression, Riddle gazed transfixed into the kaleidoscopic mirrors, reveling in some kind of megalomania he was feeling.

At that, Eileen nervously approached, careful not to touch the moribund skulls floating right over her, their dim light casting the room in an ethereal glow.

"Do not lie to, Lord Voldemort. He always knows....Always."

Eileen felt a rush of extreme paranoia, for she believed her authority figure was omnipotent.

Riddle finally turned around, announcing sweetly, "And I know everything about you, Eileen. Everything."

Eileen became confused as she did not understand how he could know everything about her. But then thinking of the wrong explanation, she glanced at that glass eye still in his strong grip. She had no memory of him possessing her. She did not know Tom had analyzed her soul, includiing all the thoughts, memories, and feelings she had had up to that point in time.

There was no desire inside Eileen to retaliate his punishing, cruel words of before. To Eileen, they were justified, as she had made a huge mistake during the potions lesson.

As the two left, Riddle sealing the room shut so none could see what it became when he entered, Eileen experienced a real sense of paranoia. Traipsing back to the Slytherin quarters, with the harrowing thought, that she was being watched.