The Broken Victory

Chapter 21: The Dark Mark

'"Follow me, I know the way," the blind man said to the deaf man.' That phrase is the only way I can sum up the beginning of my fourth year at Hogwarts. I can't remember who said it first - not that I would mind taking credit for the quote. It always made me smile with its pseudo-intellectualism, while at the same time actually hitting something. It first came to my mind during the Sorting.

I was always interested in the Sortings. More so than anything else, the Sorting Hat itself. My mind was always piqued and my fingers itched to examine it - to take it apart and figure out its workings, to master it and take knowledge from it.

The pickings were slim that year. Because of Grindelwald's taking of western Europe, many families were either in hiding or schooling their children at home. Slytherin got the most students, not to my surprise. Slytherin families had little fear sending their children away, for many had secret allegiance to the Dark Lord. Grindelwald. The Dark Lord Grindelwald. What kind of name was that? Hardly intimidating to me. I wonder what it means. I should look it up.

I had obviously drifted, because Sammy hit me at that moment. Eyes glinting, she wagged her tongue at me. "What trap were you letting your mind walk you into this time, Thomas? No, never mind. I know you won't answer. Have your little secrets; we all do."

"Yes, but I doubt yours are as interesting as mine," I retorted glibly.

She snorted, than changed the topic with the same speed and lack of transition she was known for. "Never mind. Look at that being sorted. What's up there?" Following her gaze, I saw a small girl totter onto the stool. Her hands grasped fervently onto the sides as her weak, colorless eyes swooped overhead. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she squeaked to the center of the stool, feeling it with her body to make the proper adjustments. Ever so slightly, she dipped her head to the left as Dumbledore, standing over that shoulder, began speaking to her softly.

She reeked of pity. I concealed the squeeze in my chest, which I took as abhorrence. "She's blind," I said matter-of-factly. I caught Simon's gaze of amused puzzlement and couldn't help but smile back. I saw most of the Slytherins smiling as word trickled down and everyone got sight of her. I can't really say why we all smiled. It was an involuntary reaction. Perhaps it was because she did look a sad sight, teetering there with a false expression of bravado to mask a fear we could smell. Or it was wonder at seeing someone's weakness so blatantly, without having to dig. I knew things she never could, like the way she looked. It was a strange thing. I had seen blind people before, of course, but never when I shared it with others as an experience. But it - we - could be worse. We could be staring at her so hard with pity pouring out of us like the other Houses were; she no doubt was drowning in the waves of compassion.

She was sorted into Ravenclaw. I stared after her as she was guided down the stairs by the healthier Dumbledore. Zwipp told me that over the past two weeks Dumbledore had made a remarkable improvement, though he had little memory of the past few months. As suspicious as I was of Dumbledore, I had been averting my eyes from his since I got back.

Randy saw me staring and threw out, "Riddle, you would like the lame ones, wouldn't you? Sick, if you ask me."

I ignored him and said to Simon and Sammy, "I wonder how she's going to be taught? I didn't know blind people could be wizards..."

"They don't make very good ones," Sammy said bluntly. "They can't--they can't see what they are trying to do, so most concepts won't make sense to them. So therefore, they can't do most magic. That makes sense, right?" She looked at us for reinforcement.

I shrugged. "It can't make it easier." Looking back, I added, "If I were her, I would fix it."

Simon gave a slightly mocking cough. "Most people aren't you. It's not exactly safe."

I smiled benignly. "I wouldn't care. If I couldn't be perfect, I wouldn't want to live."

A small laugh came from Sammy. "So are you perfect then, Thomas?" Her eyes were slightly more serious than I had seen them before.

I paused, then said, grinning, "I'm getting there."

Simon forced my attention away. "Look who Dumbly-do-right is introducing to the blind girl."

Everyone turned and looked at a plump, bespectacled girl with a permanent frown and enormous glasses being introduced by Albus. I heard Randy give a shriek of delight. "It's Moaning Myrtle! Dumb-Dufus is gonna have the whiny Huff-n-Puff show that poor girl around, I bet! He probably thinks it'll do them both some good. Oh, the old man is off his rocker."

I laughed, agreeing. "It'll be as effective as the blind man saying, 'Come follow me, I know the way!' to the deaf man." I doubted any here would know the quote, and I left them assign me the credit for it.

"Well, at least she can't hate old Myrtle on sight," Sammy threw in.

"Yes. Now if only she were deaf as well, Myrtle might have found a soul mate!" Damien added from down the table.

"Shut it!" Simon warned us. We had been laughing so loud that Albus, Myrtle and the blind girl had turned in our direction. We gave sweet smiles back which they accepted. Only Myrtle continued to glare, protruding her lower lip in an appropriate expression of smarting woe.

The ceremony was near ending, and we all stood. Damien brushed by me, and I allowed him to pass. As he did so, we shared a nod of recognition. Damien was now a prefect, which was perfect for access to anything. However, I still hated the thought of leaving anything to him and resolved to use him only when absolutely necessary. We had a grudging truce and a shared shiver of excitement at the year ahead and the plans for the Death Eaters. Simon was still unofficially my second in command, and I certainly trusted and respected him more than Damien. However, Damien had the tools we needed and a healthy thirst for usurping Simon. It was going to be tricky juggling them both.

Simon had been staring at me as Damien passed. Giving him a smile, I drew him close conspiratorially and whispered, "Fifty galleons that one of us gets stuck tutoring the lame now too." We shared a grin, and I saw Simon's back straighten. Balancing acts I could do.

And then, there were some things I was still becoming equipped at. A few weeks later, I slammed my head down on the table. Figuratively. I was about a second away from doing it literally. Instead, I glanced at the talking clock and sighed. Fifteen more minutes of Hades with Hagrid.

It hadn't taken long to get most of Hagrid's trust back. I was patient to a fault, and Annie Weasley had told Hagrid that my plan had not involved cheating. Whether she was so vehement about that to cover her own guilt or if she really believed it didn't matter to me. What did was my shining reputation among my tutees that went straight back to Dippet. But Hagrid and I just did not fit well together, and it was a pain to constantly adjust things for his simplistic, narrow views.

"Rubeus, it does not hurt the animal. The Liondragon will just go to sleep."

"I just don't see why they need to transport it. Why not let the little guy live where he was born?" Hagrid was incessant.

I gritted my teeth. "That isn't even the point of the essay! Look, you are just supposed to talk about the history of the Liondragon and where it lives today."

"Why do I have to follow the exact point of what the essay asks?"

"Because that is what your mark depends on!" And so does my reputation.

"But isn't it more important that the little guy gets his voice heard?"

"His voice!?! Oh -" I did slam my head down on the table at that. Gently, though.

"Er - Tom?" His voice was hesitant.

I didn't move. "What, Rubeus?"

"Are you all right there?"

"Spiffy."

A pause, then he replied, confused, "Oh, erm, all right. Whenever you are ready to continue, just - let me know -"

I sighed, then finally straightened. "Look, Rubeus, how do you know that the Lio - the little guy doesn't want to leave?" His dull eyes sparked with some interest, so I hurried on. "I mean, you can't exactly talk to it - him - can you? So maybe he does like it."

Rubeus gave it the serious consideration of a few seconds. Long for him. "By Merlin, you're right, Tom! I didn't think of that!" His quill began to move furiously.

I began to wave frantically for him to stop, but then gave up. Slouching in my seat, I watched him write my point down. Finally, we actually did the simple history Binns required. It took over an hour.

When Hagrid finally clumsily gathered his things and left, I sat for a moment enjoying the quiet of him not being there to talk. Over my shoulder, I heard laughing. I turned to and narrowed my eyes. Simon sat in the corner with the blind girl. What was her name again? Sophie, that was it. Simon was helping her with the added burden of learning the course material blind. I had wanted to tutor her for the simple experience and to satiate my curiosity. But with my work and other tutees, and because Albus was involved I'm sure, Simon was given the job. I tried not to smart as I watched them. Next to Sophie sat Myrtle, her guardian eyes, as Albus called her. Everyone else called her the seeing-eye rat.

I stood and went over to their table. Myrtle gave me a hiss, and Simon greeted me stiffly but civilly. I smiled at Sophie, who smiled back somewhere over my head and called out, "Who's there?"

I walked over to her. She seemed calm and composed, which surprised me. I could see why Simon didn't mind working with her. "Tom Riddle. I'm in Simon's House, also a fourth year. I was tutoring over in the corner." I gave Simon an evil grin. "Simon does not stop talking about you, so I had to come and meet you."

Simon rolled his eyes, and Myrtle screeched, "Don't listen to him, Sophie! He's only trying to embarrass you. He must not like you, because I'm here. You don't like me, do you, Tom?" Her watery eyes glared.

I bit back a groan and replied, "Of course I like you, Myrtle! I'll prove it you - some other time."

Myrtle harrumphed but seemed satisfied. Sophie just laughed and said amusedly, "I could tell he was lying, Myrtle. I don't need eyes for that."

I stepped back, a bit stung, but replied easily enough, "I was joking, not lying."

Sophie's wandering eyes lit. "Is there a difference?"

"Yes," I replied coolly. "It's called intent." She seemed just as smug and sanctimonious as Albus right then. I wasn't about to let her crush me under a moral heel. I lifted the tone of my voice and said, "I hope you do take my apology, though. Sometimes my wit is taken a bit too seriously."

Sophie's brow crinkled. I could tell she was trying to read my voice. She was probably wishing she could see my face, thinking she could figure me out then. It aggravated me a little, because I knew she wouldn't be able to tell even if she had perfect vision. I had crafted an almost impenetrable façade.

"Well, Tom. You sound sincere. Apology accepted." She extended a tiny hand past me. I gently took it, marveling that I could crush it with one squeeze. In so many ways, she was a pinnacle victim, as helpless as anything I had seen here. But at the same time, she had tried to stand over me. A moment of amused respect was shifted into a more secure feeling of confidence that she would only be a victim against me.

Simon finally cleared his throat. Sophie turned her attention to him, following his voice as he rose. "That's it for now, I think. We'll keep working on memorization of the charms, than add the vicarious experience later this week."

Sophie rose slowly and took Myrtle's arm. Smiling a bit sadly, she replied strongly enough, "If I can survive memorizing that much. Thanks again, Simon." She then turned to me, and I stepped aside. As she passed, she put her hand out and groped until she hit between my right shoulder and chest. I instinctively tensed, discomforted by the touch. I still hated any contact, especially those which I didn't initiate for some purpose. My sensitive skin tightened beneath my sweater to where her grazing fingers were painful.

I was sure she would feel my tension, so I breathed slowly and forced myself to relax. She paused a moment with that faraway look, lost in her world of improvised sights. Then she said, "Bye to you too, Tom. Or should I call you the Joker?"

"The Riddler is more like it," Simon burst in quietly, as if he had thought about it.

Sophie nodded slightly, and then said, "Riddle, the Riddler. Are you a Riddle, Tom? Fitting, I suppose."

I stepped back, away from her touch, and said politely, "Tom is fine." Her hand left me cold and with my heart pounding. I didn't like to be touched or tried to be figured out. I didn't like a walking example of a handicap one could never shake, like the blood in one's veins, let alone a peaceful acceptance of it. But she enveloped her weakness as part of herself, as if it gripped her to an inner humanity. Strength in weakness. It ran contrary to everything I needed to hold on to. Even among the handicapped, I was alone. I couldn't find rectitude with other Mudbloods, who didn't see Muggle as weakness. Now apparently I couldn't relate to anyone. I felt hollow at the false connection my unconscious had begun to form with her and filled it instead with the knowledge of just how pitiable she was. If she could tell I was different, then it was fact. I was not like the rest of these people. I wasn't misunderstood; I literally understood and followed a different law of being. So I had to focus on what I could be like or become.

She nodded, and with that, she and Myrtle were off. Simon walked over to me and watched, searching for me to give him a clue. I stared back at him like stone. Finally, he said, "She unnerves me--I could hurt her, but I also feel I could be struck down by her."

"Her weakness is so blatant that it draws you in. Her false courage is admirable, but it really is just a pathetic life. She'll never reach her potential. If you see that, then you'll realize all that unnerves you is the immense power you hold over a creature like that." My voice gained strength as my conviction re-grew with a fiery vigor.

As usual, Simon's eyes were differential and keen. He gave me the respect of a teacher and the awe of the unknown. "Is that really how you feel, Tom? You're amazing. You were taken with her; you felt sorry for her and impressed by her. More so than I. At least for a second--I think." His voice trailed off, as his thoughts came in wisps of memory. "But I can never tell with you. That's the safety trick, isn't it? You really make yourself immune to feelings, then. That control is-is - admirable." I could see he meant it.

"A trick?" I laughed. "Hardly. And feelings are necessary. They give you desire and ambition. You just have to invert them, give them a twist. And to others, if you can make yourself impenetrable, you can keep the whole world guessing," I answered with a crooked smile. "If they are guessing, they aren't getting you. But at least they are thinking about you."

Simon took all this in, still standing immobile in the middle of the library. Slowly his reasoning sorted out a flaw. "But it can't. Humanity just doesn't function that way - I couldn't just make myself stop feeling unwanted things all the time. It's not possible."

And that, Simon, I thought to myself, is why you will never rise above me. No matter how hard you try, your box of reason will confine your ambition. Reason says humanity can't cast off emotions. Voldemort says the right emotions can cast off humanity.

To Simon, I grinned and laughed. "Try magic, then, if it's impossible!" He laughed as well, but I could tell he knew I was keeping something from him. And in not telling him, for the first time I saw fear with the respect. It was a hell of a lot better than trying to seek out approval.

As we walked out, I saw Sophie entering the Transfiguration classroom. Three people were helping her, and she was smiling and gracious to all. A smack in my gut, a nice ball of envy and unworthiness, shot into me from her. For she didn't look at me with the ease she did everyone else, though we all looked the same to her. Apparently even my voice, my presence, my essence was a distant other. Nobody had cared for me when I got here. I had been an avoidable different, more often feared or repulsive than pitiable. I told myself that that had been better, that I could not have acted any differently for me to be where I was today. I didn't need to be cared for by others. I didn't need to care for others. I didn't need to feel anything but superiority toward her. I had conquered what she could not. It was the same with everyone who felt or took compassion. It was a weakness I could not tolerate. I could never love a thing like that.

Simon stayed even more reserved from me than usual. Which was fine by me, since I had been busy finishing a small detail for our first official Death Eaters meeting. We gathered in the prefects' bathroom. Not an ideal location, I will grant you, but it served its purpose. Damien and the two other prefects were present and would ensure an efficient lookout for the others. There were mostly Slytherins and two Ravenclaws. A total of eight members in all. Most sat cross-legged on the floor; two sat on the rim of the bathtub. I perched, leaning against the sink, looking at all the eyes on me.

Damien walked to my side, edging past Simon. I pretended to ignore it, but I secretly delighted in Simon's brief pout. I clapped my hands once, then paused dramatically to wheel them in. "Hello, everyone. I understand that you all know why we are gathered here this evening."

I started to pace, which was difficult in the small space. Hands clasped behind my back, I easily continued, "To share magic." On that word, I spun around, my hands out for emphasis. "Magic none of you can dream of. You know you want it - You wouldn't have been brought in if it weren't in you. We were highly selective. Your desire is great, and I can - we can - make it well worth it." Again I paused, and I saw that I had them all dangling off my lips. I smiled. "So now it's time to prove your commitment."

Everyone looked around at that, unsure. Simon gave me a puzzled look, which I glossed over. Surely he could not expect to learn everything. Where was the fun in that? I gave a mock-surprised shake at their reluctance. "What? Surely I would not tell you anything before I had your complete commitment assured. It's a simple request, really. More of an allegiance to our community, a stand for the quest for magic without restrictions. For answers the powerful should have a right to hold."

Simon who knew me best threw out, "So what is this request of yours?" Damien nodded, also put out from not knowing.

I smiled and beckoned Sammy closer. She came up hesitantly. I smiled at her and whispered soothingly, "Don't worry." She looked and me, and I saw her trust swell as she relaxed in my arms. It was intoxicating.

I drew my wand around her shoulder, whispering a chant that sounded almost like a lullaby if you said it right. Immediately a glowing figure appeared, a skeleton with a snake protruding from its mouth. Everyone gave muffled screams into their hands, and Sammy's mouth just quivered. No sound came out, and I drew her eyes to mine. I laughed softly, and she giggled back nervously, but her breathing slowed. I released her, and the image disappeared. "See? No pain," I said. The mark would only smart if I desired it to.

Randy threw up his hand as if in class. "So what exactly is the point of this then, Riddle?"

Simon answered for me, a cool look in his eyes. "It's his calling card, don't you see? Grindelwald has one. But yours does more, doesn't it, Tom? You say it, and it summons the symbol, so none of us can deny that we are part of this." His arms folded. I knew he was impressed behind his anger. "A nice little anti-squealer device you got there, Tom."

I smiled benevolently. "It's not just that, Simon. It's also a homing device to get us all together in a hurry."

Simon stared back at me. "And who will be able to do the summoning then? Just you? And what happens if someone doesn't want to be summoned?"

I was getting annoyed. Simon was angry at being snubbed and was now just being difficult. Unfortunately, he made a lot of sense, and those who hadn't a complaint now squirmed. I thought fast. "If someone doesn't want to be summoned, that's their prerogative," I lied. "It's more a safety device, as you said. You know how good I am at those." He gave a grudging snort. I continued, "And you'll be able to use it on me as well - I wouldn't dream of not implanting a control on my first self-created spell." It was true. Simon could cast it on me--if I let him. Neglecting to tell him that part, I extended my arm and goaded him to try it. He did, a bit suspiciously, but then relaxed when the figure appeared burning in my skin.

Everyone else, excited children as they were, began lining up. Simon was at the head of the queue, still looking dubious. I gave him a moment's reassurance. "Come on now, Doubting Thomas." He always liked it when I used references only he usually got.

Sammy must have been studying Muggle history though. She stepped to my side and, pointing to her first-born symbol, said coyly, "So does that mean I'm your Eve, then?"

She meant it jokingly, but inwardly I was alarmed. Would she on her own start studying a Muggle religion? But I kept it all inside, outwardly as impassive as always as I answered, "To answer that would be like running to the waiting Devil, would it not?" And I looked into her eyes, then into Simon's, as my wand began to snake it way onto his skin.