The Broken Victory

Chapter 22: Do You Hear What I Hear?

Christmas came in as little ceremonial fashion for me as always. Only this time, I was eagerly anticipating someone. The first of the Death Eaters castings was to take place on this most sacred event. Christmas would serve its purpose for me; it might just be a family event after all. All of the Death Eaters stayed over this holiday. We were the only ones, save a few others, staying over. Everyone else's families were too afraid not to hold their children close. As if geographical closeness would protect them from Grindelwald. Either the parents saw the naivety in the reasoning, or had no reason to fear for their children, or were in too bad a bind to do anything about it. Any of which worked out perfectly.

In fact, a great deal of the faculty was missing as well. Confirmation as to their whereabouts was never given, but it was assumed they were in the resistance. Dumbledore remained, unfortunately, still recovering. His eyes and stance had cleared and strengthened, yet he gave no mention of our encounter in the field. It had slipped either into the unconscious or the unmentionable, which was fine with me. I had too many other things going that demanded my concentration.

Finally the eve arrived. We sat with our respective Houses, careful not to draw attention with unusual inter-House mingling. The air at our table cackled with the electric fire of the gods. We had not even wielded any power, and already some were drunk and woozy off of its mere promise. I doubted it was any different at Ravenclaw, where they sat with the Gryffindors. It wasn't unusual for Ravenclaws and Gryffindors to associate, especially when there were so few to begin with. I smiled as I saw little Annie Weasley try to hold a conversation with her brother, her cheeks flushed with life. She practically radiated anticipation and hope across to me.

Annie was a prize to me. A pet I'd trained. I had picked her myself, much to the disbelief of everyone else. Yet I saw the hunger in her eyes to do something great. She longed to idolize someone besides her elder brother, since she could never emulate his nature. I had gladly filled in the role of mentor in addition to tutor. As she gained confidence in her abilities, she needed tutoring less and less, so I provided different information to her. I had argued with Simon at length about this. It frustrated me to no end, since it really didn't matter to me what he thought. He was too shortsighted to see what I did, wrapped up in pragmatism as he always was. A conversation awhile back flooded my mind.

"She's a GRYFFINDOR, Tom."

"Once again, your powers of observation are boundless." As was our custom, I stared at the mirror, meeting his reflected eyes as he sat behind me.

"Tom, I'm serious. I thought you were serious about this, too. What are you trying to prove, setting a Gryffindor in on us?"

"I'm not trying to prove anything, Simon."

"Like hell. Where do you get off recruiting people we can't trust? None of the other Slytherins will agree to this, and if there's strife within, none of this will work." Simon, the spokesman.

I smiled at him, casting it over my shoulder in the glare of the mirror. "Rather bigoted, if you ask me. To not trust someone simply based on his or her House."

"Right. Why then don't we ask some Mudbloods to join?" Simon stood, walking over to stand behind my shoulder. Our eyes now met at eyelevel, both facing the mirror.

"Funny." My breath came out as fog in my reflection.

"Not really. You're one. Some way to be discriminatory. Why are you so special?"

I broke eye contact at that, spinning slowly to meet his face in flesh. His breath caught on an exhale as I loomed down. "Try doing it without me." Without breathing, he cast his glance down. Yet I knew he felt the smile that spread across my satisfied face. "That's what I thought."

Needless to say, Annie made the ninth Death Eater. My conversation with her had been a dream as well. Just prior to Christmas, we had been studying for finals in the library.

Annie had sighed, slamming her book shut so hard it slid across the table and landed on me. I raised my eyebrows to look at her, and she had blushed deeply. "Sorry, Tom."

I reached down and glanced at the book. "The Dark Rise: A History of Desire." I dangled it away from her. "Either this is a very bad romance novel, or it's from the restricted section, if memory recalls."

Annie stuttered, "That's--I mean--well, how do you know if it would be in the restricted section?"

I smiled and slid the book back across to her. "Because I work here in the library sometimes. It's amazing the things one can learn from doing inventory."

"Oh." She hugged the book to herself, biting her lip in thought. Then she glanced shyly up at me. "Would you believe it's for a paper?"

I smiled back. "Would you believe I don't care?"

Her eyes widened. "You, not care about the rules? I mean, it was one thing with the tests, but...I don't know. You always seem so proper."

"Really?" I was quite pleased. It was rare to get an opinion of oneself outside of one's own House. However, my reputation really wasn't the issue here. "But it's just a book, Annie. All knowledge should be free to all who deserve it."

Her brow furrowed. "I don't know if the idea of deserving it came to me...do you think I do?" She sounded concerned.

I folded my hands in front, patiently explaining. "Why did you wish to read this?"

Annie shrugged. "I don't know."

Sternly I said, "I'm going to need a better answer than that. Magic in the restricted section is not to be trifled with."

Taking a deep breath, she offered softly, "Okay. It's just...in Defense class, we were talking about the war that's going on. You know, with Grindelwald. And I was just curious, you know, what could make someone go so...bad..."

"A fair question. I doubt you are the first one to think it." I smiled reassuringly.

"No, but..." Her voice dropped along with her head. I couldn't hear her muttered response.

I was beginning to get annoyed but decided to give her one more chance. "Don't mumble; you have such a pretty voice."

She rolled her eyes, but her morose humility was broken. "You sound like my mother. Anyway, I was just saying...I asked Bill about it. He said that he wondered the same thing at times, but it wasn't for him to know. I asked him why, and he said that some things were restricted for a reason, and he was sure that the school had a reason, even if they wouldn't tell--"

"And that reason wasn't good enough for you."

She looked a bit ashamed, but nodded anyway. Leaning over, I said, "Well, challenging the rules takes bravery. Something your House should be proud of, I would think. At least, a true Gryffindor would be."

"But maybe Bill is right, Tom. I mean, some people aren't deserving - I mean, some people shouldn't read that stuff. Maybe I shouldn't."

"Annie, did you decide on your own against all reason to take the book?"

Annie responded cautiously, "Yes."

I gave her a rewarding nod. "That took conviction. And did you manage to get the book quite easily?"

"I didn't get caught, if that's what you mean."

"It is. That shows cunning, some form of intellect. And do you find your reasons worthwhile?"

A shrug. "I suppose."

"They were." I met her eyes and nodded before counting off, "So determination, intelligence, and good reasoning over unjust rules - sounds fairly deserving to me."

I could see her working this out in her face. "I need to talk to you more often, Tom. You always make things seem so clear...so easy."

"It's good to question yourself, Annie. Just know that, when in doubt, you can always come to me."

She shook her head ruefully. "It still feels wrong though. And I don't know if deserving is the right word--"

"Of course it is. Listen, would you have found out anything if you hadn't worked at it? No, of course not. Therefore, you are deserving over someone who never tries to question anything, who can't think two feet in front for themselves without someone telling them where to go or what to do. They won't be leaders, Annie. And, unfortunately, most schools train for the masses...the followers."

Her eyes fixated on me with a blush. "You think I could be a leader?"

"That is without question. All I wonder is what you would use your abilities for."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, I would never do anything bad or wrong, morally wrong. At least not on purpose--I don't want to hurt people. I couldn't."

"You do realize there is a difference between what is legally considered right and what might be good - or beneficial is a better term."

"No, I know...it's like you said, some rules are there to protect the masses." She was gnawing the bait. "Like, the creation of Polyjuice Potion was illegal for many years because it was considered too dangerous, until someone in secret made a formula that was safe enough. Had he been caught in the process, he might have been arrested."

"And by taking the initiative, great things have been accomplished. Great things, mostly begun in secret to avoid the interference of ignorant hysteria or knowledge falling into the undeserving hands." Solemnly I added, "Motive counts for everything."

"I agree!" She looked relieved, her face flushed and eyes open from happiness. "It feels so good to talk about this...I feel I can say anything to you, and you get it."

I shrugged and said self-deprecatingly, "What can I say? I'm deep."

She persisted, raising her voice enough to where she got some glances. "No, really. Are you just trying to placate me?"

I reached over and took her hand. I had read somewhere that physical contact as such often helped in the building of trust. "No, Annie, I truly understand. As a matter of fact, there are others who do as well..."

"Well! Fancy meeting you here." Sammy had arrived at our table just then, clenching a book under her left arm. A smile was plastered across her face.

I smoothly released Annie's hand and sat back. "Not that fancy. It's a testing week, and we're in the library."

Sammy ignored me, turning to Annie. "So what does he understand?"

Annie flushed and nervously picked at her sleeve before meeting Sammy head on. "About not being proper all the time."

Sammy smiled at me smugly. "No, only proper when it helps, right?" Turning back to Annie, she said loftily, "Sorry if you don't get it; it's more of a Slytherin thing."

"Actually, she gets it quite well." I smiled at Annie. "I'll talk to you later."

"I'd like that. To hear the rest about...the rest."

Annie nodded and began to take off when Sammy called after her, "Wait, you forgot your book from the restricted section." With the same glibness, she tossed it to the flushed Annie, who craned her head to make sure no one had heard.

I shook my head as she left. "Why did you torment her?"

Sammy slid into the seat next to me and raised her eyebrows. "I think the real question is why is Tom Riddle wasting precious studying time holding the hand of a second year Gryffindor?"

"It isn't what you think." I checked to make sure we were alone before whispering, "I'm going to ask her to work with us."

The horror in Sammy's eyes instantly let me know she understood exactly what work. "Are you insane? She's a Gryffin-ape! Remember the trouble you had with Bill, and-and even Dash didn't like them!"

"Liking is beside the point. Besides... I think anyone with the right qualities can help us. Bravery and chivalry or whatever aren't bad in themselves. She hasn't been mentored into that condescending, Dumbledore-licking, quintessential Gryffindor way."

"Right... you molded her." She was only half joking, and I didn't laugh to clear the air either. She finally sighed and stood, saying stiffly, "Do what you want, Tom. Prove whatever point it is you're trying to."

I stopped her. "You trust me, don't you, Sammy?"

"I do--I know how much this project means to you. It's just frustrating that you don't make sense to us."

Us. "I guess you'll just have to believe in me then." We shared a smile, and all the tension between us dissipated. As she headed out, I threw out casually, "Did you talk to Simon about that? Not understanding me and all."

She hesitated before finally choosing me. "Yes, he brought it up the other day. It made sense then, but - I think he's just upset. I'll talk to him." Her smile widened a bit. "I do trust you."

"Right." I grinned pleasantly, reassuringly, at her. "I'm sure he doesn't mean anything by it." She gave me a fumbled wave goodbye, but not before I saw the name of the book she was carrying, half-concealed. The Half-blood History: Muggle or Wizard?

The book was returned the morning of Christmas. That night at dinner I sat with them, waiting for Simon to say something. He knew exactly what he was doing - he had kept the book until it had been too late for me to read it. I had ignored it all these years, knowing the information it contained with a bitter intuition. But if something was going to be thrown in my face, I would have liked to know exactly what it said. Wonderful, pragmatic Simon had thought of that. He sat there calmly, content with whatever power he thought he held.

Perhaps some of it had been my fault. I had let him annoy me over my Dark Mark, one in a series of protests from him over the year. Worse, I had let that show, and the old rivalry had flared. I could not have cared less if I had hurt his feelings. All I wanted was a reasoned way around him. I should have known that once unsatisfied he would leap at the chance to yank me down. We played that game the same.

All through dinner, the silence between Simon and I reigned. It was only when the clock chimed nine and one by one the giddy members filed nonchalantly out the hall, that I pulled Simon aside. He followed easily, smiling back at me.

"Simon, might I have a word with you?"

"Of course, Tom," he said pleasantly. "But we should hurry to the girls' lavatory. Sammy promised to get Myrtle out of there...get Sophie lost or something. It's wonderful how no one uses that space because Myrtle is always crying in there. We should toast her or something. Conjure her up a Kleenex."

"Only if things go smoothly tonight. I would hate to see anything interfere with the resurrection of Salazar. Wouldn't you?" I spoke with the same tight-lippedness as he responded.

"Of course not. I plan on things going quite smoothly. Don't you?" With a fair smirk, he strode before me. I took a deep breath. My hands shook a little even as I reminded myself that Simon was mostly playing by ear as well. I could handle Simon; I always had. But, I thought grimly, he had learned some things as well. Unfortunately, from me.

A lavatory had never seemed so majestic. The first time we had met in there, a suggestion from Sammy and Olivia, it had looked quite depressing. The mirror had stains that were beginning to stick, moisture was accumulating on the floor, and one of the doors was scratched. I really didn't want to know what the girls had done in here. Sammy insisted over my protests that I had to know it was all from Moaning Myrtle.

Everyone had their stations, chosen by the members in the beginning of the year. Olivia, Gordon, and Jerome sat on the floor across from the circle of sinks. Sammy and Randy stood casually behind them, leaning on secure stall doors. I stood in the center, flanked by Simon and Damien. When Annie finally arrived, a bit out of breath, she paused in the doorway. Glancing about, she finally slunk down on the floor next to Olivia, as far from Sammy as she could.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. Part of me had been hoping Annie wouldn't show, since I knew what was coming. The other part of me was dead proud of my choice. Even Snicks showed up. He hissed a soft greeting from the corner of the room, hidden in a crack. I smiled at him, relieved for his presence.

Behind me were the ingredients. I reached back and began, "Everyone, tonight we accomplish what others only dream." I paused, glancing around. Simon met my eye and smiled innocently back. Ignoring him, clenching my hands behind me to calm them, I continued. "We are the select few. Those who see what needs to be done, what can be done, and who have the bravery, the intellect, the cunning, to achieve it. That is why we are all here. Before our differences divided us, but now those individual strengths join to create immortality."

"Nicely said, Tom. Very nice sentiments." Simon's voice slid over mine, floating in the air. Most eyes snapped to him in annoyance, for everyone's nerves fought any sign of interruption. But Simon looked only at me as he continued. "Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to personally apologize. I think that your reasoning for including the other Houses is completely sound."

Of course. "Thanks, Simon. Now if I could continue..."

"I mean, at first, I thought it was just empathy on your part."

"Empathy?" Jerome cut in curiously.

"Right. You know, or remember, that Riddle himself goes against what Salazar believed. But that isn't important, so I'm not going to say he wouldn't be included as well, if it were run by old-school Slytherin mentality. I'm not going to talk about that, because what is important is that Tom has come up with good reasoning for including you all. We won't talk about the possible empathy and its implications anymore." As a stir was created, Simon raised his head at me and mouthed, "Cicero."

His smugness was intolerable, and over the rubble I gave him a jaunty salute with a cold, "Touché." The commotion increased, and I ran my tongue over my dry lips, thinking quickly.

I could feel Sammy quietly staring at me. I highly doubted she had been unaware of what had happened. Not that I could blame her; Simon could be quite convincing as well. And he was right. I went against the very ideology Salazar admired. Shame once again infused throughout me. I had to come up with some answers, something concrete, for them as well as myself.

"What is he talking about?"

"Tom's past, dummy - his dad."

"Oh right, he's that Muggle--I forgot that -"

"He left him, you know--he was left by a Muggle."

"Stop it!" I couldn't help it. My angry voice rang out, followed by a deathly silence. The air was almost too thick to breathe, what with Simon's swelling satisfaction. I breathed deeply, ignoring the droplets of sweat that formed everywhere. I felt shaky, but I didn't dare grasp the sink for support. I forced my eye to meet each and every one, a smile as calm as the bile inside was burning.

"As Simon so eloquently said, this is beside the point. However, I have no problem addressing it, though I do want to thank Simon for his concern over putting me through this." I slowly turned to face Simon, instinctively curling up my lips. "I know you were only acting out of the goodness of your heart. Don't worry. I will try to repay your kindness, Simon."

Simon gulped unconsciously as I turned back. "I never knew my father. Supposedly, he was a Muggle...the worst kind of Muggle. I mean, how else could it be explained that I wound up in a Muggle orphanage? My mother was a Slytherin...she died in childbirth."

I saw the winces and felt anger. She wouldn't want their pity, and I would make that clear. "But she is the only person who claimed me...who named me. Gave me a wizard name, Marvolo. I was forced to take up Riddle - she was forced to use it, I'm sure. As such, she is the only person I claim as my parent."

Breathing came easier, and the words flowed. "Slytherin objected to those who embrace the Muggle parentage, the Muggle heritage. Those who ignorantly adhere to a group of people who cast off their spouses with a word, who ignore their children in a blink. The ideals of the Muggles aren't limited to them, I'm afraid. There are plenty of wizards alive who are also misled."

Clearly, emphatically, I stated, "I do not honor such ideals. I do not honor my father. I pledge my allegiance wholeheartedly to my mother and what she believed in, which was Salazar." Turning to Simon, I boldly added, "I claim Salazar as my father." Little did he know how close to the truth that was.

Simon remained silent as Annie stood up cautiously and said, "I think he would claim you too, Tom." I saw most nod in support of her, and I smiled weakly. At least they were accepting her. Suddenly Snicks hissed to me a warning.

I quickly called out, "Everyone! I think I hear someone coming! Quick, get out!" We hurriedly filed out the door. Once outside, we tried to look as inconspicuous as possible while Dumbledore and Myrtle walked over. They looked suspiciously at us.

I smiled brightly at them. "Off to a late night study session. What seems to be the problem?" I tried to look concerned and innocent.

Dumbledore sighed - gasped, since he still had some difficulty breathing. "Myrtle has been informing me about some respiratory and skin troubles she says she has developed. She seems to think it comes from this lavatory, since she... inhabits it quite frequently. None of the other girls do, and they haven't any symptoms."

Neither, I thought dryly, does Myrtle, I bet. That little hypochondriac was costing us our space.

Dumbledore continued. "So I am closing it for the remainder of the year."

"What! You're listening to that?" Sammy burst out.

We all had to duck our heads to avoid laughing as Dumbledore said, "Madame Drawt agrees."

"Sure, just to get Moaning Myrtle off her back," Damien hissed under his breath through a fake smile.

"Anyway, I'm going in to see if it's a Roving Skink, because they can cause such symptoms. Otherwise, it is probably a mold, and the room must be closed to be magically fumigated over the summer," Dumbledore finished.

He began to head for the door when I suddenly realized no one had taken out the supplies. Panicked I called out, "Wait!"

Dumbledore stopped and turned. Warily he asked, "Yes, Tom? What is it?"

"It's just..." I looked at the other Death Eaters, but they were all still as stone. Taking a deep breath, I hurriedly lied, "Well, you are just getting over being sick, sir. Perhaps I should go and check for the skink."

Dumbledore waved me off. "Nonsense, though I appreciate how much concern you have. You have not dealt with these before. And I assure you, I am quite well."

I cut in front of him, placing myself before the door and offering my most angelic smile. "But I've read all about them, sir. Ask me anything. And I know you are fine; that's why I should go. We couldn't bear to see you fall ill again." Taking out my wand, I said reassuringly, "I promise to disable it and to be careful."

"Oh, yes, sir. Tom can handle it," Simon cut in quickly. I gave him a nod. When it was both our necks facing expulsion, we were quick allies.

Dumbledore looked curiously at me, and then said, "Very well, Tom. But if it is big or you need help, call for me. I will be right here." I was surprised he agreed, and didn't exactly enjoy the look in his eyes.

I tipped my wand at him. "Of course, sir." Then I opened the door and slipped inside. Breathing heavily, I leaned over the sink. Every emotion possible was smashing through me, leaving me faint and nauseous.

Snicks slid over to me, comfortingly resting around my wrist. I gripped the sink, looking at myself through the stains on the mirror. My pale skin was clammy, with shadows and gaunt planes. My dark hair shone even in the dim candlelight as I turned this way and that. Thoughts ran through me almost as fast as the emotions. Damn Myrtle...she should just live in the bloody toilet. We were so close...I could have called Salazar. Seen if he claimed me as I had done secretly in my heart for years. That yearning was all that remained of my heart that I could tell.

Gazing, my tired, red eyes stared back, blurred from the effort of living. Did I look like him? The other Tom Riddle? Could Salazar even stand the sight of me and what I had become? Could I ever properly repay Simon, with his dirty blood running through me?

My fingers gripped the edges of the basin, as taunt and pale as my face. I could feel myself about to burst and deflate at the same time. Snicks playfully bit my knuckle as he always did when I was ill-looking, and I hissed at him, a slow exhale through my teeth. While glancing down at the reddened patch on my hand, my eyes caught sight of emblems upon the taps. Staring harder at them, a finger of mine reached out of its own accord to trace the winding design...

~ blood... ~

I whipped my head up, spinning around the room. Some voice, drenched in fury and lust, ethereally called out to me. I feared Dumbledore, the Skink... my sanity. The voice whispered through me, and I glanced wildly at Snicks, who looked as frightened and confused as I. His tongue whipped about frantically, trying to detect the other presence.

~...not... here... ~

The hunger I heard developed a presence. A focus drew me in, scaling out any reality outside of the chilling voice and myself. I found myself calling back, hissing to the voice. ~What blood? ~

In its response, the voice grew louder...

~ Yours... and theirs... to create and...cleanse... ~

~Create what? ~

~ Your destiny... and his...~

~My destiny? You mean Salazar's? ~

~ Yes... your call, your readiness... has brought about the time. Has awakened me...~

~Then what are you? ~

~A link...~

~A link between us? ~

~ Between you and your legacy... ~

~The legacy...Salazar's legacy~

~ The blood legacy... the Chamber of Secrets... ~