The Broken Victory

Chapter 24: Enemies of the Heir, Beware

The hurried little patter of steps increased in volume. Breath caught in my throat as I waited for the maker of that noise to step into the luminescent moonlight cascading through the windows. A muttered noise flitted through the air, followed by a pause, and then she appeared.

Cradling the wall, she was positioned before a mirror, which radiated an aura of bluish moonlight around her. The rise and fall of her breast as she sucked in gasps of air, the tight white spaces drawn around her bloodless lips...I took it all in. Myrtle had lost her little charge.

"My Precious? Where are you? Oh, I have to get back, but I couldn't leave you lost in the castle. Somebody's pet might eat you...and no one would go with me. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't just leave you...Precious? Maybe I should have asked Myrtle to come again...Come on, baby, come to Mummy...come out, Precious..."

Sophie groped blindly, her shaky hand reaching for the wall. Nothing was entering those eyes, but they emitted a fear like none other. I could only imagine the terror she felt. She couldn't face her fears. She was left in the thralls of her imagination, not knowing what might creep up on her in a magical castle late at night.

I almost called out to her, but I was too transfixed. It was both a sad and beautiful sight. Glorious because, even in her terror, she held a power beyond that of any other, barring me. Her very failing was her greatest strength. Her blindness made her immune to the Basilisk's stare. Of course, it also prevented her from protecting herself from something as simple as my foot stuck in her path. Even if there wasn't a lesson in this, it was an amusing little paradox.

Slowly I approached her, encircling her with my step. Every inch of her slight body was on edge, her senses alight as if expecting prey... or fearing to fall prey. She froze, sensing my presence.

"Hullo? Is someone there?" She reached out, and I danced silently out of her grasp.

Unconsciously a smile crept over me. There was nothing courageous about her now. Nothing I was seeing was worthy of respect, from her fumbling hands to her frail voice. Her handicap was a liability beyond pride, no matter what Dumbledore tried to preach to everyone. Her brow furrowed, and she reached out again, almost tripping.

I don't know how long the game could have gone on, but it ended with the interruption of further pattering. This time, a small ball of fur followed, sniffling curiously around the corner. It was small and timid. I supposed it was Precious.

Sophie must have heard the faint jangling of the dog's tags, for she called out again. Precious lagged a moment, eyeing me suspiciously before beginning to approach her master. Sophie's face gleamed in the light, as if she had triumphed over some great obstacle. Finding a ball of fur that was only a few halls away from the Ravenclaw common room...yes, no doubt that would be a great source of pride for her over the years to come.

I am sure most people would have been simply astonished with her accomplishment. However, I only thought it fit to give her a chance to do something really worthy of others' wonder and her own deep pride. Hissing, I called for my Basilisk.

At the sound of the hissings, both mine and those descending from the pipes, her intensity returned. She stood coiled, ready to flee, completely immobile, as the Basilisk slowly descended. She stood motionless as it approached in sinuous darts, the noise of its scales sliding across the smooth stone increasing measurably. There she stood, rooted to the ground, as her Precious caught sight of the large serpent in the mirror behind her, eyes glowing so bright that all but Sophie could see. And then her Precious was as still as she.

I sent the Basilisk away, praising her work as I crouched to examine the scene. Precious lay there Petrified, as her mistress got her legs back. Without breathing any less silently than I, she approached her pet. Her foot hit something, and with wide eyes she slowly knelt down, tracing her fingers over the body. She felt her baby's ears, long and shaggy. She stroked the fur, now cold. She jingled the tags, a sound Precious had made every time she approached her mistress when called, and without fail.

And in repayment to the loyalty her pet had given her unto death, Sophie paused, wheezed in air, and ran off with a silent shriek. Her voice failed in the fear that gripped her, and she just fled down the hall in a direction that would keep her away from finding anyone for hours.

Now it was Precious and I that were still. I looked down at the shell. That tiny clump, whose eyes now reflected no life within, stared back soullessly. Indeed, why would her spirit remain if she had been abandoned so by the one she trusted?

I walked over to her, softly speaking. "There, there, girl. I think she failed the test, don't you?" I got no response. "Don't worry... at least you found out your true place with her. And never fret... I will give your past existence more meaning than she ever could."

Leaning over, I gently slit the small belly beneath the fur. The red dampness dripped onto my fingers, bright against the light of the moon. A strange laugh, a hollow voice, gripped my lungs. "You saw... you don't have much to live for anyway."

~*~

I reentered the Slytherin rooms, awash with sensation. I was highly aware of the warm wetness on my hand, which was cradled against my dark robe to prevent any telltale spilling. While sight may have failed little Sophie, fear had certainly shone through her eyes tonight. It had leaped into my being, a tingling wash. So utterly helpless and vulnerable... she had faced death and run away from it, run in terror and left a helpless creature to suffer the consequences of her weakness. The guilt she would carry from her failure tonight would haunt her worse than any fate the Basilisk might have dealt.

I stayed in the common room until I could come down from my giddy lightheadedness. My meld with the Basilisk, the ultimate power I held at my command, left me with a high inebriation. So I sat, until the blood stopped leaking from my eyes. Until the drunken daze left me stone cold, sober, and exhausted. The tremors of adrenaline gave way to tremblings of exhaustion and shivers from freezing. I was still learning my depths, still growing in my mastery of control. But I had waited for years to prove my readiness for this process.

I finally collapsed in bed after quietly washing up. I barely remember closing my eyes before someone with sharp nails began violently tearing me back to consciousness.

"Thomas! Riddle... come on, get up!"

Moaning at the hiss, I groggily turned and saw the hazy image of Sammy form before me. My voice thick, I croaked, "Sammy, what the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Morning to you, too." Throwing my blanket off me, she continued, "Something is up. I just got an emergency owl to go meet in Dippet's office. All the prefects have. Our bloody window was open, so I got the note for both of us. Now come on, let's go!"

Sitting up, I rubbed my face, trying to comprehend what she was saying. "What?"

"How articulate you are this morning. Move it!" She planted herself at the foot of my bed, hissing as the other boys called out in sleepy protest to the racket she was making.

"Fine, fine, I'm getting up," I mumbled as I stumbled out of bed. I stood for a moment, dazed, as Sammy kept tapping her foot. Irritably, I turned to her and said, "I am not changing with you standing here!"

"Prude." Sammy rolled her eyes and left. I hurriedly dragged on clothing, my limbs feeling heavy and numb. I had immersed myself too fully last night, leaving me little resources now. I could imagine what this meeting was about.

"Hurry up!" I heard Sammy bellow.

Clenching my jaw, I whispered loudly back, "I can't find my white shirt!"

"Oh, for the love of... I'm coming back in; I'll help," she called, just as I found it.

"That's okay. I--" My words drifted off as I noticed a slight stain of blood remaining on the sleeve. I hurriedly balled it up as Sammy approached curiously.

"Well, put it on then," she said, pointing at the shirt I held.

I thought fast. "I can't. I thought it was mine, but it's Randy's. He's always leaving things on my side." That was true. I was always tripping over his books and packages from home.

"Oh." Sammy couldn't have cared less. Puffing up her badge-studded chest, she beckoned me over like a child with her hand outstretched. "I don't think they'll notice you're in your pajama shirt if you just fasten your robe. They'll be more upset if we're late. Come on."

"All right," I muttered. Grasping the prefect badge gleaming on my desk, I hurried after her.

The meeting went as expected. Dippet, Dumbledore, Zwipp... they were all so predictable. My breath caught in the beginning, as Dippet began to give a vague outline to the anxious and confused prefects. A student had been wandering the hall at night looking for a lost pet, when she ran into something.

I couldn't help it. "Did she see anything?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, all she heard was hissing. Then... her pet was found. She thought it was dead, so she ran... nothing happened to her, but when she and the pet were found..." His voice trailed off for a moment, before awkwardly finishing, "The pet had been Petrified... that is a magical condition which renders the victim paralyzed. But it had also been... drained... with its blood used to write on the walls."

Everyone drew in gasps.

"Poor girl," one of the Hufflepuff prefects moaned in sympathy.

"Poor dog," Sammy snapped back. "She just left it?"

Ignoring them, I turned to Dumbledore and asked innocently, "What was written?"

Pausing, Dumbledore looked each professor and prefect in the eye before saying, "The Chamber Has Been Opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware."

Whispers echoed throughout the halls for weeks to come. I refused to give up my work, though I exercised as much caution as possible. Several students, with white faces and trembling limbs, swore they kept hearing noises. My heart clenched only momentarily at this, before realizing I had far more discretion than they brain capacity. Dippet and Dumbledore had been silent over many of the details, just warning us prefects to be especially careful with our charges. I highly suspected that, rather than being the result of a clever plan to catch the killer by finding out who knew too much, it was because they were too lost to give any real information. A strange thrill rang through me with every whisper. Part of me wanted to cry out with my power, to rub it in the faces of all. But my time would come, and I had larger things to think about.

I had made my condolences to Sophie. Her empty eyes had tilted up at the cadence of my voice, her cool hand resting upon my cheek. Slowly her fingers traced my face, the skin tightening in turn. She had given me a weak smile then, in a trembling voice, saying, "Don't be afraid..."

I nearly sneered at that, forcing down any remark and willing my facial muscles to relax. The darkening corridors signaled dusk was falling. The air held a slight chill, and I said, "Never that. But I should be going... you should as well. It's cold out." I turned, but her small hand stopped me.

"You always feel cold. Or, at least, every time I've touched you..." Her eyes crinkled, and I had to remind myself she couldn't see...she hadn't seen. "Almost stiff to touch, too, yet you sound relaxed. I like a puzzle..." Her face melted, displaying soft emotion so blindingly blatant, though she spoke as if challenging. "I like you, Tom Riddle. Thank you for your condolences." Hesitatingly, she reached up and slowly pressed her lips against my cheek, softness crushing in against the hard marble of my jaw line.

Instinctively I pressed her away, hardening my gaze, distancing myself from her immediate sphere. A small moan escaped her as she almost stumbled, her soft voice questioning, "Tom, what's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong." Calm...I brought myself under control, receding from the distaste of her touch upon me. Her weak, broken, ignorant touch that found me great...

I was tired and riled from the events of the last night, and never would enjoy someone leaning upon me in any capacity. I'd been dealt enough to carry and needed no more burdens, even a burden so slight. Pulling back into myself, I added in forced calmness that I slowly hardened into authenticity, "I thought I saw something. It was nothing."

A pause. Then, "Oh... good of you to make sure."

I breathed easier at her acceptance. A small part of me wanted to push her further away, harshly spurn her with words or action. But I held it in, seeing her as the little thing she was, and it slowly passed. Feeling cold and indifferent, sure she thought well of me and I would remain not blamed, I said, "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tom. Speak with you soon, I hope." She looked more lonely and lost, as if I were the only one who had taken those feelings away and now she was left with them worsening in my absence. Perhaps none had consoled her as well as me. Perhaps they actually desired to help, and that interfered with a proper delivery.

I watched her, seeing her strain to tell whether I was still there or not. I held that moment, watching her strain, waiting until I decided to stop and replied, "Oh, certainly." I then turned, not looking back, and managed not to be alone in her presence again.

Weeks passed after those gut-twisting nights, and I harnessed my power even more. Control ebbed through me, as did the aching pulse to continue. I had been practicing in bits away from my chamber, and I longed to be reunited and use it again. But I couldn't. Not since Myrtle had set up a permanent camp for herself in the lavatory with the entrance. Anytime she so much as heard steps approaching, she screeched and wailed loud enough to raise our hair down in the dungeons. She had taken Sophie's trauma unto herself, and in her dismay she was seriously hindering my plans.

I was treading through the congested halls, deep in thought over the annoying problem Myrtle had become. I had to think of something, and I was racking my brain when I heard an unwelcome interruption. Turning, I watched as the giant figure of Hagrid ran me down.

Sighing, I plastered a smile on my face and said, "Hello, Hagrid. We already had a study session, remember?" He had to have at least remembered the session, if none of the material.

Upon reaching me, Hagrid looked sheepish and said, "Would you believe I studied the wrong chapters?"

I stared at him. "Studied the wrong... how is that even poss--"

"You see, there was a bug that flew right onto my book! Imagine that!"

"Well, you do seem to attract them." I smiled benevolently.

"Thanks. And he was a cute little bugger. Kinda hard to explain... but you know, when you see something like that, then it melts your heart, and its eyes were just so..." His own bulging orbs got the glazed look they acquired whenever he saw food.

"I'm sure it was indescribable."

"Eh? Oh, yeah. Anyway, the little fella crawled right onto the section I was marking off to study! Can you imagine that?" His grin was wide.

I tried not to sigh. "Only because you depict it so eloquently."

He hurried on. "So I tried to shoo it, but it wouldn't move! And with Vallandora there, I couldn't get up to let it out--last time I did that, she got mad, I'll tell you. So, anyway, I marked the sections beneath it, figuring I could go back later and correct it, but I suppose I forgot I marked the wrong ones--"

I looked at him in bewilderment. "The sections underneath... wouldn't that mean the sections you had yet to cover?"

Hagrid scratched his head. "Well, yes, I--"

"You studied for two days without realizing you hadn't done it before?!" I asked disbelievingly.

"Well, when you put it that way, it does sound a bit daft..."

"Oh, not at all."

He bumbled on. "But I was never any good at Charms, so I thought it was possible I had missed something. Thank goodness Annie caught me this morning studying the wrong stuff and--"

"Fascinating. Listen, Hagrid, I'm sure you're far too busy catching up on your studies to explain any further."

He looked down and mumbled back, "Well, you see... I'm kind of too busy to study for it now all by myself."

I was beyond frustrated with him. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope the other thing is important, because so is Charms." I turned to walk away when he grasped my arm.

"I am so glad to hear you say that, Tom. I knew you would understand." Puzzled, I turned back to him as he continued. "You see, I sort of have a... thing."

"You said that. What does it have to do with me?" I shook free of him.

"Well, it's a bit complicated. You know how I help take care of the animals around here?"

"Yes." I had heard the groundskeeper complain about Hagrid's interference at length.

"Well, I sort of bought a cute little thing that... well... really doesn't belong out there." His eyes grew shifty.

"I see. And?"

"Well, I know Wynn from working with him. He would want to get rid of it if he found out. He would try to poison it. I mean, sure, it might threaten some of his other animals, but... it doesn't have to be dangerous. So I... kinda didn't tell him about it." He looked up at me from his lowered head.

I fought not to roll my eyes. "I see. So you have an illegal pet."

"Yeah. But remember when you said that sometimes you know what has to be done and you just have to do it?" he asked.

"Yes." I wished I cared where he was going with this prattle.

"Little Aragog doesn't harm a thing. He can't help the way he looks or what he is. But, it's a little harder to take care of him than I thought. I can't leave him for long, but I have to study..." Hagrid trailed off, looking dejected.

"I am so terribly sorry about that." I tried to be sympathetic while coming up with the easiest way to brush him off. "Listen, Hagrid, if you want my advice, I would study. I really can't help you study now; I have... a test myself. Feed your pet, hope that puts it to sleep, and study. I would rather have an angry pet that eats a few castle mice than get Dumbledore on my back."

I started walking away when Hagrid called out, "You don't think I should just tell Dumbledore? He might understand..."

"Sure, and he might not. You can take that chance, if you don't think you can handle Aragog. But if that's the case, that you aren't up to handling it, then maybe I should tell Dumbledore myself..." He was annoying me so greatly that this proposed action sounded appealing. Plus, it would have the added benefit of seeing one of Dumbledore's own precious Gryffindors in trouble for betraying his trust.

"No!" Hagrid panicked. "No, Tom, I can handle it. Trust me. I don't want to let Dumbledore down."

I couldn't help twisting the needle a bit further. His adoration for Albus was ridiculous. "Are you sure? I mean, if you can't and you tell him now, the worst thing that would probably happen is you won't be allowed to go to the Yule Ball."

At that he looked crestfallen. "I... erm... probably won't go to that anyway. Not too many prospects... you know..."

I feigned surprise. "Oh! I see... well, who needs the dance, anyway? I'm sure you have plenty of animals to keep you company." With that, I gave him a final smile and headed off. Yes, not going to the dance was a real reason for heartbreak and pain. He should be so lucky, to have such easily reconciled matters as that plaguing his chances. Not that it was any better than being unable to follow a blind girl around. Myrtle. I snorted. What a pair they were. And then my eyes widened... suddenly, I knew how to handle Hagrid and knew what to do about Moaning Myrtle as well.

~*~

A few days later, there was still no change in Myrtle's toilet stay. There was only one way to handle this, and it was all up to me. Cringing, then steeling my nerve, I approached my target. "Myrtle?"

She turned and looked up at me, her face drawn expectantly into a pout. It was now or never.

"Myrtle?"

"Yes?"

"Myrtle, I was wondering..."

"What?"

"If you would... like to go to the upcoming Ball with me." There. I hadn't even gagged.

Her eyes shadowed in confusion. Her goggles clouded, she half-rose. "Oh, Tom," she said.

I gritted my teeth and smiled. "What do you think?"

"What do I think..." Fully raised now, she stepped up and closed the gap between us. Looking deep into my eyes, she promptly socked me in the stomach.

I doubled back hard and gasping, more from shock than pain.

"Very funny! I thought better of you, Tom. I really did." Her eyes beginning to tear, she tried to push past me out the room.

I stepped into her way, hurrying on. "No, wait, Myrtle. I'm serious! I would really like to."

She paused, glancing over me with an air of distrust. "Why?"

Why indeed? Because I can't trust anyone else to really go through with it and keep you happy that night, so you won't go crying in the bathroom and ruin yet ANOTHER opportunity for me. "How could I not?"

Myrtle rolled her eyes. "Sure, right." But she didn't move.

"I heard how hard you are taking what happened to Sophie," I said.

"Oh, so you feel pity, is that it?" Her eyes flashed.

"No, no, no. I merely think that taking the incident to heart such as you have really says a lot about you." I smiled.

Her mouth trembled upward. "Really? Like what?"

That you are an egocentric, whining twit. "You can deduce what. I mean, if you saw someone cry their eyes out for another, what would you think of them?"

Myrtle stuck her lip down. "I suppose I would think they were... sensitive."

I smiled, swallowing a gag. "Well, there you go."

She smiled back, making her bad teeth grossly apparent. "So you think I am sensitive?"

"That would be the reasonable conclusion you would arrive at, wouldn't it? And what would you do to the person you felt such a way about?" I asked.

Her eyes glazed before she said in a whisper, "Ask... ask them to the dance?" She sounded like she couldn't believe her own words. And with good reason.

"Well, there you go," I replied. Therein, my fate was sealed... but it was all for the goal.

I would just have to keep telling myself that.

~*~

And so, three weeks later, I was escorting Moaning Myrtle into the Great Hall. She squawked when we got inside, which was appropriate--with her glasses and hair pulled back, she strongly resembled a parrot. I gritted my teeth as I looked over the crowd. The Hufflepuffs looked happy, the Ravenclaws curious, the Gryffindors suspicious... and the Slytherins were a nice mixture of amused and repulsed.

I saw Sammy and Randy approach, evil grins on their faces. Hurriedly I turned to Myrtle and said, "Myrtle?"

She looked up at me in surprise. "What?"

I thought fast. "I think... I saw Sophie over there. You really should patch things up with her. It'll be good for you."

Myrtle's brow furrowed in confusion. "You think now is a good time?"

Quickly I pushed her in another direction. "Absolutely. That way we can have fun without you always thinking about her. You know how sensitive you are. She's over there... somewhere. Go."

Myrtle disappeared just as Sammy and Randy reached me. Grinning, Sammy said in mock sympathy, "Oh, Thomas... really, you could have just asked me. When you told us what you were planning, I didn't really think you would go through with it. You didn't have to sink so low."

I could say the same to you. "I'm simply trying to be nice."

Randy shot me a skeptical glance. "Sure, Tom. Because we all know what a giving soul you are."

"I gave my time to keep you from failing Potions for the past five years," I replied back with a smile.

Sammy grinned at me, tugging Randy off to dance. "I think Thomas has been known to do some good things on occasion. Given the proper incentive, right? Well, never matter. The professors arranged for us to have a dance to take our minds off the horrid events of this year, and I say we use it. Come on, luv, we can harass him later." She shoved him onto the dance floor then, twirling in a reddish light coming from the small sprites zooming across the ceiling.

Myrtle came back then, unfortunately. She pushed her glasses up, sniffling happily. Even when she wasn't crying, she was whimpering. How delightful. I consigned myself to the long night as I led her around, trying to avoid every eye possible.

Four hours, three dances, two drinks and one interminable walk back to the Ravenclaw common room later, I was finally rid of Myrtle. I had complimented, escorted, basically served her every whim this evening. My efforts paid off; when I left her, she actually smiled, and her voice decibel level decreased enough to sound almost human.

I gave a quick stop off at the Slytherin dorms to change clothing and remind Sammy that I would take the prefect watch right now. She was too busy complaining about the dance with all the other girls to give me the slightest attention, other than to say with wide-eyed innocence, "Did we have fun, Thomas? How do you think Myrtle looked?"

Slipping out of the rooms, I trod down the dark halls. Shivers of excitement which had long lain dormant now raced throughout me in full furor. Tonight, I would not fail.

I reached the bathroom and heard nothing inside as I pressed my ear against the door. Grinning, I applauded my stamina and tolerance this evening, then prepared for my payoff. Entering, I paused to look at the cracked walls and dripping faucets that held the mark of my forefather. My focus narrowed to that one tap, and I strode toward it with abandon. Planting myself in place, I inhaled the energy in the air and called forth my instrument of power with a voice emanating from deep within my gut.

And then... I heard it. Softly crying, softly whimpering behind me, concealed in a toilet. Again. I heard a wailing cry... something about her glasses, about someone mocking her after such a nice night. After all I had done, she was still in a wretched humour, breaking under the trivial comments of some silly classmate. How would she have dealt with being called a demon, a plague? With having been kicked and ignored for years on end, not ever having anyone to cry to and still not lowering oneself to residing in a toilet? She would never amount to anything, and her existence now not only hindered my plans but infuriated me for simply being. For just existing in my presence.

I felt disgust that could not be ignored. It was almost unfair to make something so low my first true expression of the art within. But I could deal with that.

I continued to call my pet... and I waited for the stall door to creak open with the same whine as the doomed voice.