Animo trudged down the dungeon stairs, as though each step required more effort than she was able to give. A large stack of textbooks rested in the crook of her elbow, their spines pushing against the flesh of her skin. The last few days had been achingly lonely, more so than her years at Hogwarts in the future, hidden away from the rest of the world. It seemed once again that she was a frightened young child, scrambling for some sort of companionship but coming up with nothing but a handful of shadows. Avril and Alphard had been avoiding her, Alphard more vehemently and Animo had taken to returning to her dormitory during dinners. Abraxas had instilled a sort of silent pact that they were to pretend as though the holidays never occurred, even though Animo was anxious to ask him about his father. The bruises under his eyes told her enough. And Tom—
Her spiral of thoughts ended as Animo heard a few muffled voices from within the common room, dulcet tones that she recognized instantly. Her heart betrayed her, lightening at the familiar voices after several days of none but her thoughts to accompany her.
"I have a lead on Flamel, my lord."
Abraxas's polished murmur hung in the air as Animo pressed herself against the stone stairwell, holding her breath.
"Excellent," Tom's drawl was as uncaring as always, not a note of pleasantry to accompany his approval. "I will have Rosier tail him over Easter. His father is a distant relative. Perhaps he can give us further insight."
There was a slight pause as Abraxas hesitated, clearly uncertain. "I don't know if Rosier—"
"Do you have a disagreement?"
Animo peered her head around the bend, just enough to watch Tom's nostrils flare with impatience.
"No, my lord," there was a resigned disapproval in Abraxas's tone, something the Malfoy heir usually hid. Yet Tom seemed unbothered. There was a certain air of distraction about his posture, as if his mind was elsewhere.
The Head Boy spun around swiftly, his high cheekbones emphasized by the reflection of the green flames. His tense shoulders were a clear indication of his dismissal, but still Abraxas lingered. A slight furrow in the skin between the pale boy's brow interrupted his clear pallor.
"My lord," Abraxas swallowed once, as if summoning his courage before releasing the last of his statement in a hurried succession. "What are your current plans for the girl?"
Tom jerked his head back, his eyes glinting darkly. "What do you mean, Malfoy?"
Animo inched her way closer to the common room, not breathing at all. Her fingers shuddered slightly with the effort of her strained movements.
"Earlier you spoke of your intent to use Wallis for our plans," Abraxas's tone was numbed and his eyes dull. However, Animo was certain this was simply a defense against Tom's ruthless cunning. "To find out what she's hiding and use it against her. But after what I have seen over the holidays—"
"I would speak your next words carefully," Tom loomed over Abraxas, his shadow darkening the boy's face. Despite their similar height, Tom's presence dwarfed that of his companion's "I fear that you forget your place."
A rather irritated grimace passed over Abraxas's features, but he simply pursed his lips into a thin line. His mouth was rendered near invisible.
However, Tom was not to be cajoled and he leaned even closer, despite Abraxas's silent surrender. "Perhaps Wallis has wormed her way under your skin?" He waited for a response, his nostrils flared, "filled your head with her lofty nonsense. I assure you," Tom scoffed, flicking a ringed hand and dousing out the emerald flame beneath the marble mantle, "whatever you saw over break meant nothing. Wallis is simply a means to an end."
Animo could barely discern the outline of the boys' figures in the dark. Abraxas's shoulders were already hunched in the direction of the door.
There was a nasty smirk in Tom's tone as he turned away, bending his arms to clasp his hands behind his back. "And she is a simpering fool like all the rest. So easy to sway."
There was the faint echo of retreating footsteps when Abraxas said no more, exiting the common room without another word. A prominent fury boiled in Animo's veins as she pushed herself up slowly from her crouched position, still shielded by the marble entryway. Yet beneath the anger, the pulsing betrayal, was a deep sadness that sat against her bones. A loss of hope.
A drop of moisture graced her cheek and Animo raised a finger to her face, realizing that her eyes had begun to fill with tears. Gritting her teeth, she blinked fiercely, forcing her emotion away. Crying was weakness. And the last thing she could afford was to give Tom another foothold.
"So, is that the truth?"
Her voice was expressionless. Tom swung around from the fireplace, the flames once again flaring to life to reveal the flash of unease in his gaze. But he narrowed his brow not a moment after, erasing all sense of disturbance.
"Eavesdropping again, Wallis?" The boy reached for his wand slowly. "I believe I warned you—"
But Animo waved a hand, ending his outbursts with a silencing charm. However, the spell was rather weak and she knew that she had but moments before Tom retaliated. "No, I'm done."
Crossing the distance between them, Animo glared into Tom's gaze, silently daring him to attack her. To her faint surprise, he made no movement, returning her stare with an unreadable expression. This time, there was no charged space between them, no bated breath. All Animo could feel was the encroaching helplessness that had dogged her steps since she had arrived in this time.
"You want to know what happens, Tom?" she spat, reaching up a hand to his face. Tom flinched, barely, and Animo paused centimeters from his cheek, her fingers trembling. "Go on," she whispered, letting down the invisible barriers she had spent so long creating in her mind. "Take it."
For a long instant, nothing happened. Animo stared into Tom's black orbs, searching for some sign of life. Or humanity. Then her brain felt like it was being ripped apart.
Animo stood in Malfoy Manor, although it had long since fallen into disrepair. The ballroom had been cleared for some sort of disturbing ritual and cloaked figures lingered at the corners of the stained walls, unwilling to step into the dim light of the chandelier above. The swath of dark pulsed with a conniving energy, frantic and desperate. She pulled at her sleeve nervously.
"You must be proud, Cissa."
Animo watched as Fenrir Greyback bared his pointed fangs, saliva dripping beneath his jaw. The remnants of blood caked the skin below his chin, dark enough to indicate its recent spilling. To her right, the Malfoy matriarch dipped her head curtly, her pale face drawn and grey with exhaustion. Still, Narcissa Malfoy clung to her son's arm at an angle Fenrir could not see. Her long talons dug into the flesh below his elbow.
Then, the doors to the entrance above swung open of their own accord. A pale faced man stepped out to address the crowd, his head held high above the masses. Surveying his followers, Voldemort's nostrils flared with pleasure. Or what he had left of nostrils, which were more slits in his white face than any sort of true nose. Red eyes glowed beneath his bald skull, triumphant. This was a wizard who believed the world was nearly beneath his feet.
Animo resisted a shiver, risking a subtle glance over the Death Eaters to her left. There was certainly no admiration in the faces of the men and woman beside her, only a desperate fear. The sort that clung to prey that was being hunted. The sort that would make one willing to hand over their friend to the jaws of a beast, if it only meant they would be spared a mere moment of survival.
"My followers," Voldemort cooed, a horrible sound that seemed to make even the windows shudder. "We have gathered to celebrate a most—" he paused, clearly savoring the tension of the room. They all knew why they were there. Animo hardly dared to breathe, her chest barely lifting with air. "—momentous occasion."
At this, Voldemort strolled down the right marble staircase, the ends of his robe trailing behind him like plumes of smoke. The fabric itself seemed to fear being trod beneath the creature's feet. "The Ministry has finally opened its eyes," he simpered, letting his tongue click a mournful note, "and admitted what it fought so hard to deny: I have returned."
There was a bout of obnoxious giggling. Animo didn't have to turn around to know that Bellatrix Lestrange stood behind her, high from the recent murder of her cousin. Narcissa stiffened at the sound, biting the edge of her crimson lip. Yet, she immediately released her jaw as Voldemort turned in their direction. His gaze was now fixed on the trembling boy to her right.
"Today," once again the word was held, lingering in the chamber like some sort of unspoken promise. "We bring a new age to our world. One free of the filth our kind has endured for centuries. However," there was a flare of deep rage in Voldemort's gaze, a disgust that conflicted with his cool tone, "there remains one obstacle in my way. One whom I cannot get close enough to touch."
At this, the Death Eaters drew back, leaving the remaining members of the Malfoy family standing alone in the center of the ballroom. Draco's gaze was fixed firmly on the floor, yet his eyes were full of a silent terror. From Animo's position, she could see the way his hand clenched around his mother's arm, a last desperate plea for salvation. Yet Narcissa stepped away, her movements pained.
Voldemort flicked his wrist, sending Draco to his knees with a harsh snap. The chamber echoed with the sound of bone hitting marble. "Let's hope you will be of more use than your father," the wizard snarled, his long fingers merciless as he pulled a wand from the folds of his robes.
Shaking violently, Draco forced his head to remain bowed at a painful angle. Animo forced herself to watch, her jaw set. Narcissa let out a low moan.
Without giving the boy a second to prepare himself, Voldemort flicked his wand. A blot of red light slammed into Draco's chest and tossed him to the floor. The blonde writhed in pain against the tiles. Voldemort watched in interest, seeming to assess his reaction.
Several tears spilled from Draco's swollen eyelids.
Then, the scene swirled and Animo felt her body lurch backward. Her mind returned to the Slytherin common room, her temples pounding with a piercing fury. As she scrambled to right herself against the edge of the sofa, Tom swayed on his feet, sweat trickling a trail from the edge of his hairline.
"What—" Tom gulped for air, rattled as he braced a hand against the marble mantle, the ring on his thumb glistening in the light. "What was that?"
Animo knew that he did not mean Draco's torture or the memory, but the monster himself. Yet, she could not find any sympathy for the trembling boy before her. His words to Abraxas had settled deep in her chest, a searing reminder that Tom Riddle could not be changed.
"That thing," she spat venomously, leaning against the leather cushion for support as she pushed herself up to her feet, "is you. That is the price of your greed."
Tom did not respond, his gaze distant as though his mind were still trapped within the dark confines of the Malfoy ballroom. Animo swallowed her anger, letting a trickle of desperation fuel her voice.
"Is that what you want, Tom?" she shook her head. The traces of fear still lingered from the sensation of the memory. "To win allegiance through fear? To be hated? To be so utterly destroyed?" An aching loss for the boy she had come to care for ran though her chest. "You want to live forever, but what are you giving up in exchange?"
Silence greeted her question.
Letting out a quivering breath, Animo shook her head. "I cannot stand by and watch you fall any further."
Tom refused to meet her gaze, his head lowered towards the marble floor. With a final, pleading look at the Slytherin, Animo wrapped her arms over her chest and disappeared into the emptied dungeons. Her hope remained at his feet.