Due to our previous hatred of each other, Abraxas and I couldn't just be friends—but we started to treat each other with great respect. I was certain that he was my grandfather, which made me even more curious about his and Antoinette's relationship. But I knew I shouldn't be sidetracked; after all, I had a much more significant task to deal with.
Tom and I had become closer, and to my surprise, he wasn't upset over our small arguments anymore—or maybe he was just good at controlling his emotions. We spent time dueling in the Room of Requirement, and I started to use spells other than Expelliarmus, something which I could tell pleased him greatly.
"Stupefy!" I shouted, aiming at him. Tom smirked before waving his hand idly, instantaneously creating a powerful defensive charm around him. I was so baffled that I nearly dropped my wand, gawping at his abilities. "That was—you know wandless magic?"
"Of course I do," he scoffed. "I am far more talented than you are. Don't forget that, Viviette."
I rolled my eyes at his arrogance, and wondered briefly how the other students and teachers at Hogwarts would react if they knew of his haughty nature. Slughorn would probably have a heart attack.
"Confringo!" I bellowed, quickly raising my wand and hoping to catch him off-guard. But once again, he dodged it.
His smirk grew, enjoying the fact that I wasn't able to penetrate his extraordinarily powerful bubble of protection. Growing frustrated, I tucked my wand away and glared at him.
"Teach me wandless magic," I commanded, concluding our duel and stepping towards him. Tom cocked a brow inquisitively.
"So soon?" he taunted. "You have to excel at nonverbal magic before I teach you wandless magic."
"I do excel at it," I insisted, crossing my arms across my chest like a petulant child.
"You're...intermediate," he countered scornfully. "You need to be proficient."
"Then teach me how to be proficient," I fired back. "Aren't you supposed to be my tutor?"
Tom smiled in the amused way an indulgent parent would smile at a nonsensical child, irritating me further.
"One day that temper of yours will get you in trouble," he informed me smoothly. "For now, we will focus on dueling."
I released an annoyed groan and flopped down onto a couch that had conveniently appeared out of thin air behind me. I was getting exceedingly stultified by the countless amounts of duels we had done, and I yearned desperately for something a little more exciting.
I closed my eyes and thought of the last time I'd done something even remotely thrilling. That trip at Hogsmeade, perhaps. Or maybe my detention in the Forbidden Forest.
My eyes snapped open as I suddenly remembered something, and I shot up in my seat with the speed of a cheetah.
"Tom," I prompted, even though he was already observing me intently, his head cocked sideways. "Remember my detention? In the forest? You said—you talked of immortality."
"I did," Tom agreed, studying me with slight curiosity in his anthracite-colored eyes.
"You plan on achieving it," I continued, frowning slightly. This was something that I didn't already know from my time period; no spellbooks mentioned anything about Lord Voldemort's plans for immortality. "You never told me why, because you didn't trust me."
Tom reacted with a slight nod of his head, a spark entering his eyes. I usually had a difficult time deciphering his emotions, but I could tell that something in his expression was rather...eager.
"Do you trust me now?" I questioned. Tom scrutinized me carefully and ponderously, almost appraisingly, his black eyes searching and intense.
"I suppose so," he answered at last.
"Well then," I spoke, feeling something akin to a feverish excitement flow through my veins. "Tell me. How do you plan on achieving immortality? And what did you plan on doing with the unicorn blood, anyway?"
He remained silent for a few seconds, before his lips turned up into an eerie smile. I noticed something that was an indubitably rare sight; the corners of his eyes crinkled, and his eyes held genuine emotion in them—a fervent eagerness to share his knowledge with me.
"Have you ever heard of Horcruxes, Viviette?" Tom inquired, walking closer to where I was sitting on the couch. I knitted my brows, racking my memory, but the term 'Horcrux' was a completely foreign word. I shook my head, slightly disappointed by my own lack of knowledge. "They are objects, objects of a witch or wizard's own choosing, in which said witch or wizard can store a part of their soul in—so even if they were to be killed, they'd still remain alive because a portion of their soul is safely tucked away in the object."
I picked on my nails in an absent-minded manner as I processed his explanation, contemplating over these 'Horcruxes' deeply. They sounded convenient, but also rather unsettling.
"How—how do you create a Horcrux?" I queried, staring up at Tom inquiringly.
Tom sauntered over to the couch and sat down with me, as if thinking over how he should answer my question.
"It...it requires a great amount of skill and power," he began slowly, "the witch or wizard who wishes to create a Horcrux needs to be extremely talented."
"Sounds like a job for you then," I muttered, causing him to smirk complacently. "But that's not what I asked. How do you create a Horcrux? Is there a ritual, or something?"
"I suppose you could call it a ritual," he answered in a tone that was almost cautious. "But in order to be able to create one, you must..."
He hesitated slightly, watching me carefully as if anticipating my reaction. I furrowed my eyebrows at his reluctance and nodded slowly, a sign for him to continue.
"You must kill someone," he said finally. I blanched, blinking repeatedly as I tried to register the words he had uttered. Tom watched me intently, clearly waiting for my response.
"K-Kill someone?" I repeated, stuttering slightly. "But—but you wouldn't do that, would you, Tom?"
I knew he would, but I hoped that at this point of our friendship, he had somehow grown to care for me and would therefore grow a little doubtful about his plans for murder. It wasn't likely, however, and I knew my hopes were futile when he released a soft chuckle.
"Of course I would," he countered humorously, shaking his head slightly as if amused by my naïvety. "You know I would. After all, didn't I threaten to kill you if you didn't remain a death eater?"
I gulped, staring down at my lap dubiously. Now was probably the best time to attempt to dissuade him from his path of darkness, but the way he looked as he talked of 'Horcruxes'—the almost obsessive glimmer in his eyes—made me unsure. But I had to do it—I had to try, at the very least.
"Tom, I—I don't think you should do that," I spoke quietly. "It's a terrible thing, murder. I don't think you realize just how terrible it is. Imagine it, stripping an innocent person of their entire life—of a chance to live out their dreams and accomplish something great one day. Stripping a family of—of someone they would do anything for—"
I paused, suddenly feeling an enormous lump in my throat, and a strange sensation behind my eyelids—something like tears. But I hadn't cried since Tom tortured me, and before that, I hadn't cried since my mum died.
The memory of it was still astoundingly fresh. When Dumbledore first alerted me of the news, I didn't dare to believe it; I had laughed in his face, convinced this was some type of messed up joke. But the look on Dumbledore's face was so grave, the twinkle in his blue eyes gone, that I'd had no chance but to come to terms with it.
I was stunned at first. I didn't cry—I couldn't. I remembered standing up slowly and walking out of his office, feeling perfectly drained of any emotions. Everyone else was told of the news, and I had gotten a two-week pass to not attend classes.
The first few days after my mother's death, I hadn't shed even a single tear. I went on with my days as usual—I'd even attend classes.
But then one day I passed by two students playing an intense game of chess, both of them hurling playful insults at each other. I suddenly remembered of my mother and I's chess games, how she'd grin triumphantly whenever she managed to take away one of my pieces, how her pearly teeth would gleam as she did so.
I almost smiled, before the truth slammed into me like a vicious bull: I'd never have that again.
And that was when I cried. I burst into sobs in the middle of the Ravenclaw common room, and a concerned Ainsley escorted me to my dormitory, where she attempted to comfort me—but to no avail.
After days of weeping, I decided that crying was no way to solve this. And that was when I started to form my plan.
I was snapped out of my sorrowful memories by the feeling of fresh tears dampening my face. They rolled down my cheeks slowly, being replaced by new ones as soon as they left my eyes.
"What are you doing?" Tom snapped accusingly, and I glanced up to see that he was eyeing my facial expression with evident disgust. That wasn't shocking; what was shocking, though, was that he seemed exceedingly discomforted by my tears. "Stop that."
I hastened to wipe my tears off my face, chiding myself inwardly for my rather embarrassing display of emotion.
"I—I'm sorry," I mumbled apologetically, taking notice of the fact that he was attempting to avoid eye-contact with me.
"I never took you for an overly emotional fool, Viviette," Tom spat, still appearing extremely uncomfortable. "Don't do it again."
"I won't," I assured him icily, gritting my teeth at his harsh tone.
He finally looked at me, and his expression softened in relief when he noticed that I was no longer crying. As questionable as his methods of comforting were, they worked; I stopped crying in an instant. Whenever Ainsley tried to comfort me, she'd always offer kind words such as 'It's okay, it'll get better soon' and all of that sort of untrue crap—and it would never work.
"You will help me find more information about Horcruxes," Tom commanded authoritatively. "I need to know whether I can make multiple."
I blinked and gawked up at him in horrified bewilderment. "Multiple? Killing one person isn't bad enough?"
Tom rolled his eyes as if I had just stated the most absurd statement of the century.
"This is what makes you so weak, Viviette," he scolded. "You aren't willing to do whatever it takes to be powerful."
"You're right, not killing people is such a weak trait," I agreed sarcastically, rolling my eyes back at him. Tom scowled.
"Don't talk to me like that," he chastised waspishly. I glowered and crossed my arms across my chest like an ill-tempered toddler.
"Why can't you get one of your other death eater pals to help you?" I questioned irascibly. At this, he smiled tauntingly and tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear.
"You're the one I trust the most," he admitted, a peculiar twinkle in his deep brown eyes. "Meet me in the common room at midnight, tonight."
I furrowed my eyebrows in befuddlement at his orders. "Why at night?"
"Because, you foolish girl, books on Horcruxes can only be found in the Restricted Section," he retorted. "And I won't ask a teacher for a permission slip again, it'll be too suspicious."
I huffed and rolled my eyes at his insult, turning away from him.
"Fine."