Chapter 10 - 10: Tom's Conclusion

"May I have my wand back? I answered your stupid question."

Tom watched as Hermione handed the confiscated wand back to its owner. Her head was downcast low, and her unruly hair fell to cover her face from view. He watched as Abraxas left with a look of disgust on his face. It was so unusual for Tom to see the exuberant Malfoy acting like the rest of the Slytherins. Something must have happened and Tom was annoyed with himself for not getting there sooner to watch the entire exchange.

He continued to watch Hermione from his position, going unnoticed by the Gryffindor. Though he did not have much experience with the emotion he knew the girl was feeling sad. Was it not a brother's duty to comfort their sister? He had no clue on how to go about doing that and the girl really wasn't his sister.

Tom turned to leave. Why should he bother with her, let someone else do it. Though, she was Dippet's granddaughter. Having her on his side would greatly help him in influencing non-Slytherins. Tom clenched his fists knowing that the decision was already made. He would make Norris come to his side even if he had to pretend to be her big brother and attempt to show emotion. It was a good thing that he learned at an earlier age how to cover up his own emotions and pull perfect facades to get people to see what they wanted to see.

His feet shuffled forward. He raised a hand to place on her shoulder but could not bring himself to. Instead, he settled with a simple truth. "I'm sorry. I did not mean for this to happen."

The girl whirled around so fast that it took Tom by surprise though he did not let it show. "I hate you!" Hermione struck him in the chest with her fists. "I hate you!" Tears streamed down her face. "I hate you!" She continued to pound on his chest. He continued to stay like that, letting the girl scream at him and hit him. Sometime during that weird exchange between Hermione and Abraxas, Abraxas had told her the truth behind her friend's death. He knew that Hermione only had speculations and did not know everything. If she had known the truth, she would be doing a lot worse to him. No, he knew that she only knew that he was the mastermind behind Kathleen's death.

When Tom started to grow tired of the abuse, Norris stopped. She lowered her fists and whirled away from him. "Stay away from me!" She hissed before running away. Tom swore under his breath. He may have just lost the perfect opportunity to gather more followers.

He stepped forward to take a glance in the Medical Wing when his foot brushed against something. When Tom looked down, he saw nothing out of the ordinary, though he felt something. Reaching down, his hands came into contact with a soft material. As soon as his hand made contact, the material made itself visible. It was a dark red cloak with gold drawings on it. Was this some type of Invisibility Cloak? If so, then why did Norris have it?

The next day, Tom walked to dinner. He paused for a second upon entering the Great Hall. Abraxas was sitting down at the Slytherin table. Tom glanced at the Gryffindor table to find Hermione slumped over and empty spaces around her. It was an unusual sight and, for some reason, did not sit well with Tom. Perhaps it was the loss of a pureblood child? Or maybe the burnt bridge between him and the vast opportunities that a connection with Norris could bring.

He shook the feeling off and sat in between Lestrange and Black, two top followers. Nott shoved Avery out of the way so that he could sit in front of Tom. "What should we do about what happened yesterday?"

Before Tom could answer Nott, Dippet rose to the podium in front of the Great Hall. "Due to the fatal incident yesterday," Dippet paused, and Tom saw the headmaster's gaze drift over the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables. "The faculty and I have decided to hold off the first match of the quidditch season. The first match between Slytherin and Hufflepuff will begin next week." Tom felt a mixture of anger and disappointment stir within him. It was the first house match, the first house match where he would be playing as team captain.

"It's all that Gryffindor's fault. Now we have to wait another week before we can crush those Hufflepuffs," complained Avery.

Avery's words flared anger within Tom. "That Gryffindor was a young pureblood who could have been helpful to my cause. Your stunt could have been led back to me. No more torturing possible recruits. Your actions could put a hamper in my plans for the future. I will not have anyone mess with my plans," quietly hissed Tom. The Knights of Walpurgis, who surrounded him, visibly gulped; no one was willing to anger him, and it terrified them when he was.

Tom felt his eyes drift over to the Gryffindor table when a flurry of brown flicked out of the corner of his eye. Miss Norris was standing up with her hands furled onto the table. Her brown eyes were narrowed and filled with fury, directed solely on him. It was an odd sensation but Tom could feel his blood run cold. Is this what his followers felt like when his fury was trained on them? For some strange reason, he felt excited about the possibility that someone could be on the same level as him. Not only did Miss Norris show a level head but also adept fury, and knowledge.

Miss Norris tore her gaze away from him and stormed out of the Great Hall. Tom made a quick decision. He would bring Norris, no, Hermione into his fold, he'll just have to be careful with how he went about it. He stood up from the table and followed her out the door. The first step he would implement would be trying to focus her anger away from him.

Tom was so focused on his task that he missed the hopeful look that Dippet and the knowing look that Dumbledore held as they watched them.

. . .

Hermione left the Great Hall before her tears could spill or before she cursed Riddle right then and there. When she saw a blue-eyed Riddle hissing furiously to the Slytherins around him, she cast a listening charm. Her hatred for the man grew with his words. He only saw Kathleen as an object, not a person.

A hand snaked around her arm.

"Let go," hissed Hermione furiously. She didn't need to turn around to know who had a hold of her. The smell of old parchment and the husky smell of a cologne gave it away.

"I said, let go!" Hermione whirled around, pulling her arm out of Riddle's grasp at the same time. She felt her hair crackle with magical energy.

Riddle backed away with his hands raised in surrender. "What will it take for you to talk to me?"

Talk? Talk! He was lucky that Hermione didn't send an avada kedavra his way. No, she wouldn't become like them. She wouldn't risk her soul turning dark.

She dug her nails into her hands. The magic in her hair slowly released. "Do. The. Right. Thing," Hermione bit the words out. She already knew that he wouldn't, but Hermione had to say something, or else she would have attacked him.