"Yep, thanks, Annie."
Alphard's sarcastic voice interrupted Animo's thoughts as she turned away from the center of the Slytherin table and towards her friend, who was currently stabbing at his bowl of mashed potatoes whilst eyeing her with a sour expression.
"Sorry," she tried to muffle her irritation at Alphard's impatience. It wasn't right to take her anger out on the boy. Now, Tom... she tilted her neck once more to observe the charismatic Head Boy. He was currently ignoring Abraxas' and Rosier's debate, which was likely intent on degrading some muggleborn. "What were you saying?"
"No," Alphard shook his head, the tips of his long bangs falling into his glare and taking away much of his ferocity. "Until you stop drooling over Riddle, I'm not bothering."
Flushing, Animo scooped a spoonful of chowder into her mouth, instantly regretting the decision as the roof of her mouth throbbed. "I am not drooling." She twirled the handle of her spoon between her fingers, watching the chunks of potato bob. "Tom and I got into an argument is all."
Silence greeted her answer and Animo glanced up to see Avril and Alphard staring at her with dumbfounded expressions, their gazes wide.
Alphard stuck an ink-stained hand in her face before waving it in front of her eyes. "Have you been feeling odd of late? Slightly mental? Possibly scarred?"
Animo pushed his fingers away with an amused scowl, Avril shaking her head at their antics. "No!"
"Annie."
Animo tried not to feel too flattered at Alphard's use of her first name. It had taken months, but the boy had seemed to warm to her. It probably helped that his sisters both hated her, as Alphard had grown to be a bit of a rebel.
"There are many unsaid rules in this castle," Alphard straightened and cleared his throat, attempting an impersonation of Headmaster Dippet. "But the most important is to NEVER, under ANY circumstance provoke even the slightest conversation with Tom Riddle."
Laughter shook Animo's shoulders as she pushed away her bowl of chowder, settling for a soft bread roll and buttering it generously. "I'm not afraid of him."
"You should be." Avril interrupted their mirth as her solemn gaze flickered towards Rabier Lestrange, who was currently flirting with Lucretia. "He's the ringleader."
Alphard hummed in agreement with his brow furrowed. "You know many of my cousins are involved in his schemes." He swallowed his mouthful of potato, looking rather unappeased. "They come back from 'meetings' of Riddle's with all sorts of limps and bruises. And there was Myrtle—"
Avril shot the boy a warning glare and Alphard clamped his lips together.
"Myrtle?" Animo shifted forward, trying not to appear too eager. "The girl who died? From the monster?"
Ignoring Avril's flick against his wrist, Alphard titled his head closer, casting a fearful look towards the center of the table. "I'm not the only one who thinks it's a bit suspicious that Tom 'miraculously' discovered the killer." The boy's nose wrinkled, "Rubeus Hagrid? The halfbreed's a moron, but there's no way he would have touched Myrtle."
Processing the boy's doubt, Animo wasn't sure what to think as she settled back against the bench. "How many people do you think feel the same way?"
"Everyone?" Alphard's tone was incredulous as he shot a last glance towards the rest of his family. "Heard Abraxas muttering about it last year and he eats out of Riddle's palm."
A large clang interrupted them as Avril knocked her plate over with her elbow, sending it clattering to the floor. "Sorry," she chirped to the pair of fourth years across from them, who looked extremely irritated at the interruption. Turning back to Alphard and Animo, she sent them a burning glare. "And we'll all be the next victims if you two continue being so reckless."
With a final shake of her head, Avril spun from her seat and stalked out of the Great Hall, her braids swinging around her waist.
"She's been more upset than usual lately," Alphard offered as way of apology, his neck flushing a light pink. "Her parents are discussing potential marriage contracts."
A flare of surprise lit in Animo's stomach, accompanied by a wave of guilt. "Already? She hasn't mentioned it."
"Not something she likes to bring up." Alphard took another bite of potato, but with much less relish than he usually did. "I reckon Av thinks if she doesn't mention it, it just won't happen. But with families like ours—" he and Animo both turned towards Orion and Walburga Black, "you don't refuse."
Silently, Animo wondered whether Alphard had thought of the possibility of a union with Avril. Then again, it really was none of her business.
"You know," Alphard seemed eager to change the subject. "I think Riddle's having one of his freak gatherings tonight. Walburga mentioned that Orion would be busy this evening and she never lets him out of her sight."
A poorly developed plan began forming in Animo's mind as she stared absently through the window in front of her. She was fairly well-versed in the actions of Voldemort after he rose as a dark wizard, but what Tom had done in the decade between that time was a great mystery. Perhaps it would be useful to have a better idea of Tom's schemes, any sort of weakness that could limit his power. Animo was done trying to be his friend. Clearly, the boy had no interest in people outside of what he could manipulate from them.
"Alphard," Animo spoke the boy's name slowly and Alphard had the good sense to appear rather nervous. She grinned, setting down her roll. "Where does Tom usually hold these meetings?"
---
"This is a really terrible idea."
Animo pressed a hand to Alphard's shoulder, warning him to cease his muttering while she craned her neck around the corner. Yet another stone passageway bearing portraits and tapestries waited to greet them, nearly enveloped in shadow. Animo knew that to light the torches or her wand would certainly give their position away.
She turned back towards Alphard, attempting to keep her whisper as soft as possible. "You can go back to the common room."
They were currently several levels deep underground, following the maze of dungeon corridors until they reached the rooms that held overflows of potions ingredients. Rooms that Animo was certain Slughorn never bothered to inspect. Not that the professor wouldn't hand his personal office over to Tom if the boy asked.
There was a slight pause as Alphard weighed his options, shifting on his feet before he gave a slight shake of his head. "I would tarnish the family name if I let a girl wander around in the dark alone to spy on some psychopath."
Animo smiled gently, amused at the boy's attempt at bravery. "I daresay your family has done enough tarnishing on their own."
Alphard muttered something that sounded like "shut up" before Animo pressed a finger to her lips, holding out her wand. The boy flinched backwards and Animo rolled her eyes before grabbing his elbow.
"Hold still," she gritted her teeth, "I'm just using as Disillusionment Charm." Alphard stilled long enough for her to tap the edge of her wand on his forehead, melting the boy's features into the stone wall behind him. After she was satisfied with his concealment, she conjured the same spell on herself and reached for Alphard's arm.
"I'm not holding your hand." The boy's hiss was painfully loud in the silent corridor.
Animo cringed, waiting for the sound of footsteps. There was nothing but silence. She sighed, not realizing that she had been holding her breath in wait. "Fine, you're just going to have to fend for yourself."
Slinking down the corridor, Animo wished that she had at least changed out of her tights. The cotton was terribly itchy and she narrowly resisted the urge to move more than necessary. She paused outside of the door that they had just seen Rabier disappear behind, thankful that there was a gap between the doorframe and the door itself. Tom would certainly notice if it appeared to swing open on its own.
To her frustration, Animo could not hear anything inside the room and she knew that Tom had cast a rather powerful Muffliato Charm. Ignoring Alphard's hiss of fear, Animo pushed the door open just enough to slip through, mimicking the motion of a draft. She narrowly squeezed herself through the gap, the barrier of the Muffliato Charm evident as she crossed the threshold and a wave of sound hit her ears.
Tom was lounging on an emerald chaise that was positioned in the corner of the storage chamber, jars of strange plants and dead creatures surrounding him on the wire shelves. At his feet flickered a pale green flame, providing just enough light to illuminate Tom's face and cast an eerie glow off of the glass of the jars. Animo swore the odd-looking fish beside her blinked, but she tried not to look back as she noticed the rest of Tom's Knights shifting in the shadows, evidently not permitted to sit or receive the fire's warmth.
Perhaps most of unsettling of all was the hungry expression on Tom's face. Animo had always hoped there was a bit of soul left in the Slytherin, a small part that remained of the unloved orphan. But looking at the cold-hearted gleam to his gaze, her most practical of fantasies were set aflame.
"Black," Tom addressed Orion with an emotionless tone, yet there was a sort of venom laced in his words, as though he were a cobra biding its time before its lunge. "Have you heard from our contacts in Durmstrang?"
Stepping into the illumination of the flame ever so silently, Orion's skin was a paper white while the boy fought to keep his fear hidden. Still, it rolled off him in waves and Animo closed her eyes briefly. Gellert had taught her to never let her fear be known, or it would be used against her. She shivered at the remembrance of Gellert tossing her into the ocean, saying it was for "her own good." To this day, Animo's phobia of deep waters was ever present.
"My lord," Orion dipped his chin, his tone quivering. "I tried, but Grindelwald—"
"Crucio!"
A red light burst from Tom's wand, colliding with Orion's chest and sending the boy to the floor. His muffled screams made the hair on Animo's arms raise as they reverberated across the stones. Orion's body convulsed as Tom waved his hand once more, throwing the boy's head against the ground and the ground beneath Orion's nose turned a deep scarlet.
"I've given you more than enough time, Black," Tom hissed, looking utterly unaffected as the Slytherin barely managed to roll over, tears streaking his cheeks. "I don't care what Grindelwald is doing. His outbursts will not interfere with my work. Convince them," he spat on the floor by the boy's face, the stones glistening with his salvia, "or next time, I will not be so merciful."
Standing to his feet, Tom gestured towards his right. "Abraxas, let me see your arm." Orion crawled away, back into the darkened shelves with blood trailing from his lip as he clenched his teeth together.
The Malfoy heir stepped forward, utterly expressionless. Animo was hit with the memory of Draco, his silver eyes shadowed with pain, and a wave of revulsion seized her chest. Abraxas's grandson would pay heavily for moments like these.
Pulling up the sleeve of his dress shirt to the elbow, Abraxas revealed a rather primitive Dark Mark emboldened on his skin. His pale forearm was red and puffy where the ink laced across its canvas, clearly painful. Tom took in the scene with an air of satisfaction, grabbing Abraxas's wrist harshly to examine the work.
"The lines could be a bit darker," Tom clicked his tongue in disappointment, "but I would say it is rather a success. Now I need only to extend the depth of the Protean Charm and the mark will burn whenever I wish to summon you."
Animo watched as the other Knights remained silent, their heads bowed. A shiver crept up her spine as she recalled the dining room at Malfoy Manor. The potent fear then was reminiscent of the way the other Slytherins regarded Tom now. She wondered, not for the first time, how the boys could have been such fools to follow him in the first place. But then again, her experience with Gellert taught her that some would do anything for power and security.
Suddenly, the jar immediately to her right toppled down from its shelf, crashing to the floor with a bang. Animo's heart leapt into her throat as Tom snapped his head towards the sound, where the glass shards lay strewn at her feet.
"Alphard, get out of here," she hissed as the Head Boy began to stalk their way, his shadow rippling along the jars on the shelves. Animo's mind raced as she scrambled for an idea. She needed to buy Alphard time to escape.
Flicking her wrist, she lifted a jar several shelves across from them, causing it to explode and spray Rabier with some sort of glowing slime. Tom whipped around towards Animo's diversion while Animo reached behind her, feeling around until she reached Alphard's arm. The boy was trembling beneath her touch as she shoved him towards the doorway.
Rabier screamed while he rubbed at his eyes, his skin searing a brilliant red. The rest of the Knights drew back as Tom stalked over, kneeling to inspect the streaks of the slime on the floor. "Quit blubbering," the Head Boy snapped, "its Bubotuber pus."
There was a pause as Abraxas shifted his eyes about the room, scanning the walls for a sign of the intruder. "Do you think it was Peeves?"
"Peeves knows not to bother me," Tom retorted coldly, jerking his head towards the exit. "Leave. I'll deal with this." As the Knights shuffled towards the door, Rabier lingered at the edge of the emerald flame, tears streaking his cheeks, which were so swollen Animo could barely see his eyes. Tom noticed his posture with a snark of disgust. "Tend to your own wounds, Lestrange." He raised a brow. "Maybe it will motivate your incompetence."
Animo took the opportunity of exit of the other Knights to shuffle towards the door, desperately hoping that Alphard had been able to retreat. She should never have brought the boy with her in the first place. Trailing Orion as close as she dared, she neared the doorway with trembling fingers. Tom was unnervingly still, twirling his wand in his hands as Orion stumbled into the corridor. Animo had taken but one step towards freedom when the door slammed shut, nearly colliding with her nose.
"You know, Wallis," Tom's voice was dangerously venomous. "A clever Disillusionment Charm doesn't excuse eavesdropping."
Turning around slowly, Animo didn't bother to try the doorknob, knowing that it would be locked. Her shoulders sinking, she released the concealment charm with a wave of her fingers, using her other hand to grip her wand tightly.
"So, you decided to face your fate," Tom raised an eyebrow, his eyes cruel behind the reflection of the emerald flames. "Unfortunately, I don't give points for bravery." he whipped his wand in a zigzag, sending a sharp red burst spiraling towards Animo's chest.
Animo dove to the floor, missing the curse by centimeters as she rolled back onto her feet, using the cover of the shelves as protection. "Stupefy!" she cried, pointing her wand in Tom's direction before ducking back behind the jars.
Tom deflected the spell easily, flicking it away from his body with a scowl. "Beginner's magic?" He tossed an Immobulus jinx in her direction, but Animo conjured a shield charm and the jet of light bounced off. "I'm disappointed," his jawline was sharpened further as Tom stalked into the flame, yet the fire did not devour his slacks and instead danced about his ankles as if it too feared the boy's wrath. "I thought you would be a bit more of a challenge."
Animo ducked behind the shelf furthest away from Tom, using the shadows to disguise her movements as she bought herself time. She had no desire to engage in a full out duel with the boy. The toll it would take on her was one Animo could not afford. After all, her first priority was facing Gellert and mapping Nurmengard was critical to doing so.
"Hiding yet again," Tom snarled, thrusting his wand towards the next shelf and sending it crashing to the ground. A wave of fluids and organism carcasses spilled over the floor. "Perhaps all your lofty speeches are just a disguise for you to hide your cowardice."
Closing her eyes, Animo pressed her shaking body against the wall, trying to manage the adrenaline racing through her veins. Then, her brow furrowed as an idea came to mind. Creeping towards the door, Animo stepped forward slightly from the shelter of the shelves.
"And what do you have to gain from torturing your followers?" she hoped her voice sounded strong, despite her nerves as Tom held back from assaulting her with another torrent of curses. It seemed the boy believed that he had already won.
"I've told you a thousand times, Wallis," a conniving smirk played at the edges of his lips as Tom strolled towards her. "Fear is an excellent motivator, don't you see?"
Animo held her wand at her side, feigning defeat as she forced herself to wait for Tom to come closer. "The thing about fear," she paused, remembering the rage that was ever present in the eyes of Gellert's accomplices, "is that it grows beyond your control. Fear doesn't buy loyalty. Just temporary submission."
Scowling, Tom raised his wand towards her once more, only a meter or so between them. "I've had enough of your moral lessons—"
"GEMINO! FLANGRANTE!" Animo jerked her wand towards the shelf directly beside Tom. Instantly, the jars began to multiply in waves, sending a torrent of glass and potions ingredients crashing over their heads as the shelf collapsed under the massive weight. She heard Tom's hiss of pain as several jars touched his bare skin and Animo's eyes watered as her own flesh burned. Whether from her curse on the shelves or the ingredients themselves, she didn't know, but she used the diversion to sprint towards the door.
"BOMBARDA!" she cried, blasting the wood to splinters and not pausing as she ran into the corridor. Shards of wood tore at her face and she felt the stickiness of blood trickle down her chin as she took the stairs two at a time. Tearing down the passageway, she listening for the sounds of Tom's pursuit. There was nothing but the sound of more breaking glass.
She skidded to a halt in front of the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room, barely having time to spit out the passcode ("pureblood!") before she shoved through the opening crevice in the wall and up towards her dormitory.
Slamming her door shut, Animo collapsed on her bed, soaking her sheets with a mixture of the jars' contents. Splotches of scarlet blossomed on her pillowcase, evidence of the injuries she had sustained. Yet Animo couldn't summon the energy to heal them. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut as a tear trickled down her cheek. Pulling up the sleeve of her jumper, Animo traced her Dark Mark with a shaky finger, the ghost of the pain from her previous life searing her skin. Maybe some people would never change, no matter how many chances they were offered.