Serpentine [T.M. Riddle]

Middle

The rubble and ruin surrounding Tom's form when he walks out to the Muggle side of the station weighs tremendously on him. His legs shake and he has to fight to keep from being brought to his knees. Beside him, a few Muggleborns exclaim in shock. Some cry. He is not one of them.

A trembling inhale. He is not one of them. A burning at the back of his throat. He is not one of them. A clenched fist. He is not one of them. A quivering exhale. He is not one of them.

He will never be one of them.

Wool's is surprised to see him. They know about the station. Have known for weeks. That his train in particular always leaves from there. The children look at him as if he were a returning ghost. Tom has no doubt they've spread rumors, possibly even made bets about his return. No matter. He gives a half-hearted explanation as to how he's returned to London, but he knows no one cares. When have they ever cared about him? The Matron eyes him warily as he retreats into his room, but he knows it is out of suspicion. Not concern.

Tom does not come back to ashes. His room is untouched, as usual, layered with dust. If he checks underneath his bed, he will find the same possessions previously tucked away. If he opens his wardrobe, he will find the same flat grey box he tucked into the corner after his first year. If he checks his windowsill, he will be able to count out the same amount of stones he left atop of it.

A part of him wishes it were all ashes.

Some of the newer children crowd around his door after he's entered. They know nothing of him outside of the rumors and stories from those who have grown up with Tom. Even some of the younger children who have grown up with him do not remember clearly. The incidents, the accidents, the tragedies. Maybe he should scare them. Even if it's below him. Childish. A waste of time.

He closes the door without touching it. Slamming it shut so loud and sudden that he can hear their audible gasps and scurries of panic. He smirks.

-

The main branch Rosier manor is very much like the Acwellan one in the sense that both are imposing statements to the area around them that they are not to be trifled with. Of course, the outside is much different from that of the Acwellans: instead of looking like a genuine medieval castle, it looks like something much more modern, constructed at the height of the Sun King's rule in France (Tom knows little about him, as around the time he was reading about him, is when Dumbledore first showed up). Gaudy and tacky. The tour given to him upon settling in is mind-numbing. The Rosier patriarch goes on about architectural terms Tom knows nothing about and couldn't care less about like coffers and rosettes. Scrolls and fillets. It makes him think that architecture is a bit of a hobby for the rich because Hedwig gave a similarly informative (but much quicker and 'don't give a fuck'-ier) tour.

Only the roses that decorate the lands are natural, and yet they too, look fake.

Tom compliments the Rosier matriarch on them.

He can tell by her response that she's only expected to sit and look pretty. That she's supposed to say that the roses aren't hard to care for at all and that it's nothing. How pathetic. Thinking she can lie to him like that.

It's no wonder Evan thinks witches are beneath wizards, as Muggles think women are beneath men. In Tom's case, it's very true (he's above everyone regardless of sex), but too many wizards are letting their ego weaken them. It's no wonder two of the top three witches in his class are Hedwig and Nemesis (and he suspects the latter will eventually succumb to dumbing herself down for the sake of others).

Mrs. Acwellan would have never fallen for his false compliment. During his time with her family, the woman had proven to be a quieter version of her youngest child, only armed with a more delicate mace (compared to the trebuchet that Hedwig is). She might have accepted the lie, but she wouldn't have responded to it.