CHAPTER TEN

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10 | the knights of walpurgis

𝟿 𝚜𝚎𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟺𝟺

THE COMMON ROOM was dark apart from the sconce lights upon the stone walls and the fire sputtering in the fireplace that cast low golden lights around him as he sat in the armchair and waited for the Knights to arrive. His long fingers curled around his yew wand, twirling it as he thought of his encounter with the girl that very afternoon.

When he went to seek his followers in the dungeons, he had only found Abraxas Malfoy and Alphard Black. He told them of a new recruit and a meeting in the Head common room all while his heart hammering in his chest. It felt ecstatic.

Malfoy and Black had watched him oddly, curiosity and concern in their faces but he did not care at that moment. Not while his mind was filled with a girl with untameable hair and cunning eyes.

The first time he had laid eyes on her, he had seen how she had held herself when Dippet introduced them—the stiffness in her shoulders, the alertness in her posture. He had seen the flash of something in her eyes before a practised smile broke across her face. At that moment, something inside him ticked to urge him to watch her.

And he was not disappointed.

The elated feeling brewing inside him was hard to ignore when she had sent Dumbledore looks of disdain whenever the old coot wasn't looking as he had longed for someone who wasn't in his house to share the same hatred. It wasn't surprising given that she had noticed his contempt for Dumbledore at the mere mention of the old wizard's name.

She was brutal. He had seen it first hand when she had berated those two witless cottonheads she called 'friends.' It was amusing to watch how they had easily fallen into obedience at her mere glares.

He knew she had been trying to gain his interest for the whole week which only heightened his fascination. It was almost laughable how desperate she was for him to notice her by sneaking into the restricted sections, perusing dark books, not to mention the dark warded books on the bottom of her bookshelf. And yet the fact that she had been interested in immortality—the dark arts, it had blown his mind away.

"I knew you were special and you, Tom will be the only one to get me what I want."

His head fell back against the back of the armchair as he took in a deep breath and gazed at the ceiling. The mysteriousness to this particular female almost had him entranced. She had known who he was, known him to be different, known him to be special for who he truly was. The thrill in his blood running in his veins hummed. Her potential was strong but the calls to achieve what desired was stronger.

Hermione Granger would be the perfect soldier-a tool to achieve his glory and Tom Riddle would make sure he achieved just that.

Inside the Head Girl dormitory, Hermione stood by the door, her ear pressed to the wood. She heard them before she saw them. She heard the portrait creaked open and sets of footsteps shuffled into the common room. After a while, she heard them murmur, "My Lord," in a greeting chorus that almost had her rolling her eyes. She had been waiting behind the door for a while before she made her entrance.

Their lord did not reply and the silence that came after that was so thick that Hermione could feel it from behind the door. When it became almost unbearable one of the Knights spoke up.

"Um...my Lord?"

Hermione was positive it was Avery.

"Yes, Avery?" came Tom's reply which confirmed her thoughts.

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 ⟶ 𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒆Where stories live. Discover now