Status: unedited
(Imagine she is Althea)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
His senses gradually awakened, and his head felt as though a solid marble wall had crashed upon it. His body was unresponsive, and Tom Riddle could barely flex his fingers.
He was immobilized, with his hands bound behind his back by a rope and his feet securely anchored to the ground. Yet, everything around him remained blurry, and the brown-dark walls of Tapage, along with other objects in the room, appeared as dim lights flickering in his eyes.
It took him several minutes to piece together where he was and the events that had led up to this moment. His mind was a chaotic jumble of acidic thoughts and images that he struggled to untangle.
A fragrance lingered in his memory, accompanied by visions of a sparky meadow blossomed with violets and hyacinths, inundating his thoughts. When the young man finally comprehended what had occurred, his eyes opened and Tom gasped as if he had been deprived of breath for an eternity. His chest felt burdensome, and his breaths escaped his lips in short, ragged bursts.
That witch, no, no, no, the enchantress, to say it better, Althea Lynch, whom Tom had cursed since the very day and moment they first met, had poisoned him and then audaciously held him captive.
His ebony gossamer locks flawlessly framed the bare expanse of his forehead, pressing against his skin with a certain intensity, akin to the relentless waves of a turbulent sea crashing forcefully upon a small boat amid a sudden tempest. His chin trembled with rage, and if he could, he would have already charged at her, perhaps even tearing her flesh with his bare hands.
He glared in the direction that the Slytherin witch seemed to stand. Lethal eyes pinned hers with two pieces of malachite sheening in pure aversion. The girl immersed from the shadows right next to him, her steps carefully encircling him and now it seemed that Tom Riddle and Althea Lynch's roles had switched for a good measure.
He was the victim ensnared in the grim embrace of the serpent, whose tail coiled around him like a menacing web.
But the boy harbored no fear for his kind, and for that reason, he chuckled to himself, running his tongue mockingly over his lower lip. "I will bury you alive once you untie me," he voiced sweetly as if he had just bequeathed her with tons of compliments.
Althea stifled a smile "Before you bury me, rest assured, I will cast a curse upon you, one that not even the darkest of magics can unravel, Riddle."
From her position behind him, Althea's hair lightly brushed against Tom Riddle's ears, eliciting a tingling sensation. Tilting his head back, he gazed at her with a sardonic grin. "I dare you to try and bring me to my knees. I long to witness the fire of your rage at the thought of my downfall. You flatter me, Althea. Your unwavering paranoia almost makes me believe I am etched permanently in your thoughts," he taunted.
Her grip tightened around a lock of his hair, forcing his head to collide with the chair violently. He remained silent, but his eyes were fixed unwaveringly on hers. From her pocket, she retrieved a small bottle, waving it conspicuously before him. "You see, some people excel in the dark arts, while others master spells. But, I have been experimenting with the things my father concealed in our house since I was a little girl. And one day, do you know what I concocted?"
"Do you dabble in potion-making, hmm? No wonder Slughorn singled you out so swiftly," he remarked with a touch of bitterness.
"Yes, brewing potions is rather calming. And the fact that you do not recognize this particular scent is no coincidence," he was an expert in potions too, and now, it was intriguing how Tom managed to fix his gaze on her with such intensity and focus despite being securely bound to a chair. She twisted the bottle in her hands, displaying the small tag attached to it.
On it was written in calligraphic letters the phrase "Brevis Somnus," and Tom raised an eyebrow, studying Althea and the bottle. "Sudden sleep," he remarked thoughtfully. "So your mind has always been twisted," he tantalized, causing her to tighten her grip. Her grasp held authority and Althea enjoyed holding it in her hand, flashily showing what she could do to Riddle.
"Easy there, Lynch,"
Althea swung it and held the bottle over his head, allowing him to see its bluish contents. "Hyacinth, violet, bear fur, along with drops of the world's deadliest poison: the blood of the taipan snake," she explained, never breaking eye contact with him.
"If your father is hiding snake venom in the house you should look into that. It is strange enough by itself that he has left his lunatic daughter still among us and not locked up in an asylum," he mocked and Althea shook the flask of poison impatiently.
"Be cautious, for I have no hesitations to force you to consume it. A substantial amount will render you unconscious for days, or even weeks, while even the scent of it may incapacitate you temporarily," Tom could feel her blood simmering with the poison in her hands as if it were her own that she had used.
Certainly, if her blood ran hot, his was on the brink of boiling, scorching through his veins like vitriol, and possibly something far more fatal. Tom slammed his feet forcefully against the floor. There was no time for the noble work of patience.
A vein sprouted in his forehead "You are completely clueless about the forces you are toying with, Lynch. You are playing with fire. You should count yourself fortunate that I have not broken these damn ropes yet and peal your skin with my bare hands," he seethed, his fingers formed fists as he faced the Greek witch, who was boldly but generously presenting a plate to him, brimming with her arrogance.
She relished having him in this predicament, vulnerable and incapable of resistance. Tom felt her fingers caressing his neck gently, her nails poised to pierce his smooth firm skin. Once again, he caught a whiff of her fragrance—jasmine, beeswax, and a subtle hint of vanilla. His nose twitched, and the girl pulled up a chair, seating herself across from him.
Her hands toyed with the small bottle, while her hair, untangled, cascaded down to her chest, curly and voluminous like the plumes of a black swan. Her eyes held a mocking gleam, and Tom silently cursed her in his mind. Her epidermis was a pristine work of art, a sculpted fragment of meticulously chiseled features that only could betray her Mediterranean grace.
"You are quite loquacious, and your current threats are not aiding your situation. What brought you here Riddle?" Althea, perhaps unaware of her tone, directed her words straight at Riddle, stressing each one with intensity, always causing the boy a throbbing headache.
He responded sluggishly, heaving a sigh, while her stern expression felt like gnawing the very last brink of his sanity "I just wanted to see what this place was like. I could not get in any other way. You were not going to let me in," he shrugged indifferently.
Althea sat cross-legged and rested her head on the palm of her hand, her eyes colder than ever. "I would not let you. Over my dead body you would enter the Tapage," she declared firmly.
"Be careful what you wish for," came Tom's voice, oddly chirpy. The boy was moody, there was no other explanation, because one minute he was sitting there threatening her, acting like a maniac, and the next minute he was acting like nothing was happening.
"This is the job of polyjuice potion, is not it?"
"Certainly," he paused and locked eyes with her, a sincerity she had never witnessed before in his gaze appeared and Althea found herself crooking her neck waiting for him to speak. "Given our current predicament, I must admit your previous offer of a truce is quite tempting. Perhaps we can both calm down a bit our spirits. I have an offer,"
This was highly unexpected, and disbelief quickly filled Althea's eyes. "Go on," she encouraged him.
Tom Riddle never entered into meaningless agreements unless he had an ulterior motive. He took a moment to carefully choose his words before continuing, "I know very well that Grindelwald has robbed you of many things, I am no fool to believe otherwise. I share your pain and seek the same vengeance as you against his name. He killed my own family too, after all, many years ago,"
Silence.
Deafening silence.
And then "Sacrilege," rumbled the heavens in horror.
"Deceiver," thundered the fates in turmoil.
A deceptive falsehood born from the mind of a demon, devoid of any sanctity or holiness. However, why did Althea take no action to expose him? What made her there, motionless in response to his words?
Her lips parted slightly and perhaps the answer lay somewhere within her; this was no other than revenge's doing. Her enmity over Gellert Grindelwald sharpened the sword of nemesis to such perfection that it now drew forth venomous ichor from her veins.
Althea turned her head slightly to him, hoisting an eyebrow towards his direction. The realization did not dawn upon her until Tom's words reverberated once more, "Yes, Althea, we are cut from the same cloth. Fate intends not only to see us drenched in each other's blood but also to join our forces," her mind was ready to dwell on his last words, however, she did not know if it was her impression or not, but his eyes seemed becoming brimming pools, on the brink of tears.
A pang of anguish surged within her. Her voice trembled as she inquired perplexed, "When? How? Why?"
The boy drew in a deep breath, simulating an air of misery and sorrow. "All I know is that his followers killed them, Althea. All of them– my Muggle father, my grandparents... they were wiped out from earth. Only my mother was spared from this tragedy, but she died giving birth to me. I grew up in a muggle orphanage in London, and I only discovered I was a wizard around the age of twelve. I learned about being the heir to Slytherin just last year,"
The pause the boy made was painful and Althea could not help but empathize with him. The knowledge that he was suffering because of the same reason as she kindled a smoldering ache in her chest.
Tom Riddle was the central character in a tragic tale, written with the darkest ink imaginable. Perhaps he became the person he was due to circumstances beyond his control. Because no one woke up one day intending to become the world's greatest monster. There had to be a reason for all of this.
Althea found herself feeling sympathy, even sorrow, for the man who had tormented her life for the past few months. It was uncomfortable and she tried to get these ridiculous thoughts out of her mind.
No, no, he was a killer, a bloody psychopath, no tragedy in his life could allow him to behave like that.
Nothing could undo all that he had done and the counterbalance of his malignancy was, in a strange way, relieving to Althea.
"Get to the point Riddle. What do you want from me?" her voice was impassive as if he had not just confessed to her that his entire family had been murdered. As if it had not been mentally implied that a rough patch of misfortune loomed over Tom since his birth.
He clenched his jaw and continued, "There is going to be a Christmas reception in Athens, featuring speeches by Grindelwald and, you know, some special guests from the wizarding world. I have infiltrated a few members of the Alliance. It seems like he is planning something rather twisted, and I need to uncover what it is," the words reached Althea's ears like an odd combination that did not quite fit together. Who did Tom Riddle think he was to go against Grindelwald?
He persisted with an air of superiority, "Does not your brother live in Greece? I am aware he resides in a mansion, that could prove highly advantageous for our cause," somehow it was so authoritarian the way he was asking, bordering on an order rather than seeking for her approval.
Althea blinked rapidly, processing what had been told "Are you asking me to let you stay at Feadon's house?"
"Yes, precisely. At least for a week while we make arrangements," Tom clarified.
"Ah, we, you and your cult, you mean," she scoffed.
"Call them as you wish, Lynch, I do not care," he shrugged once more.
Tom and Althea had forgotten that they had been at this point. The scene had begun with one of them tied up and the other threatening to poison him, and now they were talking about plots and schemes against Grindelwald's destruction.
The two teenagers were caught in a dangerous game, when in reality they should have been avoiding such perils altogether, instead of running after them.
"Bring your friends along, they might prove useful in some way. Especially Greengrass, with the name she has and her family reputation with a little persuasion she can dig up diamonds from that room,"
Althea shook her head quickly in denial. "No Riddle, Cassiopeia will stay out of all of this. Besides, it is enough—,"
"I will do it," a mellow voice heard.
She held books in her hands, her attention wholly captivated by the unfolding scene. Seeing Riddle tied to a chair in the Tapage room was certainly not an everyday occurrence.
The distinct azurite grains she has as her eyes moved from Althea to Tom. The Ravenclaw witch's gaze briefly lingered on Tom, momentarily oblivious to Althea's presence. They had not conversed frequently, these two, but often they were exchanging nods at regular intervals to merely acknowledge each other's presence.
"If what you say is true," Cassiopeia began, "then my assistance will be more than invaluable,"
"You do not mean it!"
"You see, Lynch, your cousin is wiser than you," Tom pointed out, but she ignored him.
"Why would you do that? I am not even sure if I will agree, and you are already leaping headfirst into the blazes," Althea asked frustrated.
"He has inflicted enough pain on the entire wizarding world. Do not you think it is time someone finally takes action?"
Althea snorted contemptuously "And you think a bunch of school kids are going to be the heroes of the day? That only happens in fairy tales, Cassie,"
"Pessimistic as ever!" Tom exclaimed impatiently. "Come on, Lynch, this is our chance to destroy him once and for all. He has taken everything from us; it is time for him to have a taste of his poison,"
Her response was like a sweet and redemptive melody on her lips, but she simply shook her head and replied, "I will attempt to persuade him," referring to Feadon.
Maybe she should not have believed him. Perhaps she should have investigated the version of his story he had given her instead of blindly trusting him. Nevertheless, the first phase of Tom Riddle's plan had been crowned with success, though it bore a diadem full of thorns.
SMALL CHAPTER~🤭
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