Tom Riddle was the happiest he had ever been in his life. He was a Slytherin. Of all the wizarding families he could have been from, he descended from the purest and most powerful bloodline in the Wizarding World. It certainly explained his affinity towards snakes. But then there was Ivetta.
He hadn't gotten a chance to speak to you since he had found out the news, the glorious news. But you would have to speak with him eventually, for he had taken your potion's essay, the one you had slaved over for hours. It was quite odd, for almost every other female in the school had spoken to him that day, yet somehow you were still able to ignore him. He figured it was one of the newfound perks of being the Slytherin seeker.
Between the newfound things in his own life, he could barely process the things he had found out about you. Grindelwald. He could tell that the wizard was just using you, for your power, but he knew you wouldn't see it. Or you would see it but just ignore it. Which frustrated him to n end. He would be a million times more successful, more powerful, than Grindelwald. And he would be able to give you the world.
He was not sure why, but the idea of you working for anyone disgusted him, making his blood boil. He was prone to rages, not that anyone who didn't know him could tell, he would not let them see. He would let you see someday soon, the anger you caused.
For now he would settle with a confrontation. He wanted to spar, and he had seen you walking towards the library, which at this time, would be almost empty. He wasn't disappointed, and spotted you immediately at a table in the corner.
He walked up quietly, and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Or he tried to, his hand had been slapped away before he could finish. You did not bother to look up at him, instead let out a rather rude sigh. "So the Quidditch star has decided to grace me with his presence."
He was very annoyed by this. He was only playing that stupid sport for followers, and you were being rather obnoxious about the whole thing. And he needed you on his side, they were connected! And he was a Slytherin and you didn't even know!
But of course he would not tell you all of that. Instead he placed a small smirk on his face. "I didn't know I needed an excuse to talk to the smartest girl in the year."
"I'm tied with Zara." He took a seat. You still were not looking at him, and he had the desire to cast the imperious curse to make you, to have you realize he was not your equal. Yet again he did not do any of these things now was not the time.
"Zara cheats off Avery. Everyone but the professors know that." This got you to look up, a smirk paying on your own lips.
"And Avery cheats off you, everyone but the professors know that." He must have let his shock how on his face for you laughed, a pleasant musical sound that made him even angrier. "Everyone but you and the professors than. Come on Tom, you guys share a dorm and your a genius. Merlin knows they need all the help they can get."
The use of the word they did not slide past him. He would deal with this matter of cheating roommates later. "Do you?"
You scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself. Your handwriting is too...posh." He hated how you could insult him without a care in the world. He knew that you were intimidated by him, he was an intimidating person! Yet you were so much braver than his knights. Or just stupider.
"You know, I heard a very interesting rumor the other day. Your name so rarely makes the rounds here, I have to say I was surprised." This piqued your interest, but he would not give you the chance to interrupt. "If I'm being honest, it seemed so unlike you, but the other night I noticed something."
"Spit it out Riddle."
"Do you have a tattoo?" You broke out into laughter, but he caught the slight tense of your shoulders.
"If that all they can come up with, well, let's just say I'm immensely comforted. I am surprised you believed such a thing. You're right, that's very unlike me." He let out a mocking sigh.
"Oh well our classmates may be imaginative, but they are not that preposterously creative. All rumors start somewhere, and a lot of them are true. If you want my opinion, they had the right pieces, just the wrong picture."
You rolled your eyes, but there was a sense of uneasiness. "What are you going on about?"
He pulled his ancient runes textbook from his bag, flipping to a previously marked section. He waited for your reaction, and was not disappointed by a wince.
"Self rune branding was outlawed outside of educational purposes in the 1896 rune law. Yet I think that you have a rune burned into your shoulder. So either you broke the law, or someone put it there."
"You don't know what you're talking about Riddle."
"On the contrary, I have several theories. The first, and most obvious, I think, is it was some sort of Grindelwald ritual. Not a horrible idea."
"Shut up Tom." But he was on a roll now. Getting a rise out of people was something he was incredibly good at.
"You could prove me completely wrong by just showing me your shoulder, I would drop it right now." You bit your lip, as if considering it. He highly doubted you would, but it was worth the question.
"I don't have anything to prove to you."
His smile grew. "So you do have something there. I wonder what." He flipped through the book unceremoniously.
"Go away."
"I thought I was gracing you with my presence." You said something that sounded awfully rude, and then glanced around.
"We're friends Riddle. Or something. We don't hate each other. I'll show you. You can talk at me all you want. I don't talk about it. I might answer your questions, but I don't want a discussion. And if you bring it up after today, I'll kill you."
Without waiting for him to respond you pulled down the side of your robe, revealing your shoulder, and where creamy skin should have laid was instead a dark ugly rune. He recognized it at once, as it had been incredibly popular during certain time periods. "A tether rune."
He glanced at you, but you were already back to your book. "Those were forbidden in the twenties. No one can brand someone with that without the ministry on their doorstep." There went his Grindelwald theory. Tether brands had been popular when squibs were used as slaves back in the 1800s, but were now thought of as barbaric. The spell had not been taught in years, and any use of it was immediately traceable. He doubted Grindelwald would have risked so much.
"Those runes tie you to souls or properties. The only way to break it is death or destruction. But they haven't been legal since 1928. And you would have been two. You would have died."
Your uncle could have done it. He was high enough in the ministry for a cover up. But you had told him you planned on running away. A tether would make that impossible. You spoke to him so softly he almost missed it. "They were banned here. By your ministry of magic."
"Your parents." The solution came to him at once, and he wasn't sure how he had not thought of it before. It was a rather unorthodox way to keep tabs on a kid. "When they died the tether broke." It was a rhetorical question, and you were back to your book again. "I found my mother."
There was a lot less reaction than what he had been expecting and he was incredibly disappointed. "She's a descendant of Slytherin."
"I figured as much. You reminded me of a snake when I met you. A parslemouth aren't you?" He tried his best not to let his shock show.
"How did you know?" You only shrugged, hair blocking his view of your face.
"You reminded me of a snake." Obviously you wanted to be left alone. So he picked up his book and sat across from you. You were his. And although he had not learned much from this encounter he was certain of one thing. There was no way your parents had died in a fire.
***
(Dumbledore)
He was not sure why he had become a teacher in the first place. He was one of the best wizards in the world, if not the best, and he was rotting away teaching teenagers. There was a time where he dreamed of much better things, he most certainly could be the minister. And yet he was stuck in this castle that he had once tried his hardest to get out of, and he could not find good reason to leave.
Except for the obvious, horribly evil and destructive reason that was on its way to destroy wizarding Europe. The destructive reason that was corrupting an incredibly corruptible teenage girl. He was not opposed to using children in warfare, but as h had been observing this particular girl, he realized that she could be used as his own weapon for a future dark wizard.
He liked to assume the best in people. But unfortunately he would not afford himself that luxury with Tom Riddle. To put it rather bluntly, he did not like the boy. He was a bully, and quite frankly, a monster with everyone in the school wrapped around his finger. Dumbledore had known he was descendant of Slytherin the day after he met him. The parsletounge had tipped him off, and the name confirmed it.
Only recently had he discovered the boy knew as well. Which scared him, though he would not admit it. He knew what newfound power could bring a person first hand. Riddle had fought for his space at the top of the Slytherin food chain. And now he had found out he needn't have bothered. He saw many similarities between himself and the boy. They were both brilliant yet lonely, adored by people who didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. As good as family-less.
And he had recently discovered that Ivetta was as bad of an influence to Tom as he was to her. She had questionable morals, which in all fairness, were probably the only kind she had ever been taught. He was sure she was perfectly aware that Tom Riddle was not a normal person, and his interest in her was clearly not born from benevolence. Yet she seemed to be drawn to the darkness of it. She was a monster in her own right, as she had every right to be, for the worst kind of evil is the one created by the evil done to it.
His mind flitted back to the letter she had handed him. She could not have none the contents, it had a blood seal, only he could have opened it. She was nothing more than a pawn in this game Grindelwald had created. A way for him to flaunt his power everywhere. But occasionally pawns can be unpredictable. And they are the most powerful piece on the board.
***
(Tom)
"Will you try and find your father?"
The question caught him off guard, mostly because you hadn't been speaking to him. "He's a muggle. A dirty muggle who left my mother to die." He thought he saw you roll your eyes.
"Yes, but if he is alive he's still your family." The words were painful to hear, even though they were the truth. His blood would always have the stain of the muggle, he would always share a name with the man who had never bothered to meet him. his father would be his responsibility to deal with.
"What would you do?" He hadn't meant to ask that question. He didn't want advice, and he did not want to seem like he needed it. He was Tom Riddle, Salazar Slytherin's heir, he did not need anyone's help. But he did hope you answered.
"If it was me, I think I would meet him. My family isn't the greatest, but maybe he actually isn't that bad of a person. Maybe he was just confused and scared. But you'll never know if you don't meet him."
He thought it was a naïve answer. Childish. One coming from someone who longed for family. So it fit you. "I don't care if he's the nicest person in the world, he's still a muggle and I still grew up in an orphanage."
"Are you angry about being abandoned?" There was a mocking undertone in your voice, something that he had never heard before.
"Of course not," he snapped.
"Really?" You said, a smile appearing on your face. "Because I see a little boy who's angry because no one held him as a baby, no one praised him, no one told him he was special. So he grew up angry at the world."
"Did anyone hold you as a baby? How can you speak of these things with that brand on your shoulder?" He had ever felt this sort of anger before, which was surprising because anger was an emotion he was very familiar with.
"Oh I have my issues, sure. But I accept them, I know them and move past them. But you, our just the runt from the orphanage that none of the other children liked. And now you have a scapegoat, the perfect person to blame, instead of just accepting that you aren't as special as you think."
His wand was out before he could think. He was not sure what curse he used, but he was aware of the steady trickle of blood that appeared by your throat, the smile on your face. "You don't like people picking into your life? Think of it as a lesson." You didn't seem to care that there was a gash on your throat as you said the words. He reached for his wand again, and thought of the spell that would heal your wound.
What had he been thinking? Damaging the one thing that belonged to him? Stupid. All because his stupid father had him all rallied up. With a wave of his wand your skin healed itself, the blood disappearing as if it was never there. Surprise lit up in your eyes. "Whatever you decide to do Tom, I'll help."
With that, you left, and he realized that you might be closer to his equal than he thought. And that he was going to kill his father and every other unfortunate soul who shared his blood.