Chapter Text
Madame Florence had a rather strange patient in the hospital wing tonight.
"What did you say his name was, dear?" She asked as she felt the pulse of the unconscious student stretched out on one of the beds.
"Gideon Scalby." A voice, soft and pleasing on the ears replied. "He's a third-year."
"And where did you find him again?" The matron inquired.
She turned to fully face the young boy who stood by the bedside next to her, the one who'd brought in the unconscious student all by himself.
He seemed to lack the arrogance that students from Slytherin usually possessed and instead, had a look of concern etched upon his clean and sharp features; thin lips, high nose bridge, dark hair neatly kept, and eyes like pools of chocolate.
Madame Florence internally sighed and told herself that he would grow up to be quite the handsome lad!
"Don't worry too much," she couldn't help but reassure him, unknowingly brushing off the fact that she had been waiting for his answer, "he's just fainted. Probably overwork or lack of sleep. He'll be as fit as a fiddle by the time he wakes up."
"I hope not," the boy seemed to mutter under his breath.
"Hmm? Did you say something?"
"I hope he does not have to face something like this again," he replied with a slight tilt of his head and a small smile playing on his lips.
Madame Florence sighed and, unable to help it, patted the other's head, "He's lucky he has such a concerned junior looking out for him."
"It's nothing. I'm just doing what I should." The boy replied as he immediately took a step back to avoid the matron's hand. "Besides, it would be terrible if no one else found him. I wouldn't want him to suffer… without anyone there to witness it."
The witch couldn't help the slight furrow of her brows on hearing the boy's words. They seemed a little— off.
"Well," she began, wanting to change subjects because of the unease that had settled in her heart, "have you had your dinner yet? You better run along now, it won't do you good to miss out on your meals. You're still a growing lad!"
The boy nodded in agreement. "I will be taking my leave now, Madame Florence."
"Have a good night, dear. And don't worry too much over your fellow housemate here; he'll be fine when he wakes up."
The boy only smiled in reply, eyes meeting hers for a stretch of two seconds, before leaving in unhurried strides.
…
Madame Florence ended up being quite preoccupied for the rest of the night, tending to a few students who had come in due to a prank gone wrong. And it wasn't a pretty sight, having to fix up the children who now sported various colourful fungi on their faces.
As a result, she had forgotten about the third year Slytherin currently occupying one of the beds in the hospital wing.
Until—
"Madame, are you sure I will be able to retain my former appearance?" One of the noisier students asked, fidgeting as Madame Florence slathered a thick layer of some concoction on her face.
"You will if you sit there silently and not distract me while I apply this on your face." The matron replied, already quite tired from the constant barrage of questions in under just five minutes.
"I'm telling you, it's probably someone from Adrian's posse." Another student said, loudly interrupting the hushed up conversation that the group of three, who had already been treated, were holding two beds away. "Those Slytherins are always up to no good. I told you they would do something as sly as—"
"Lower down your voices, I still have other patients here," the matron cleared her throat, her tone sharp with disapproval, "don't make me throw the lot of you out."
"Sorry."
"She said be quiet!"
"I was only apologizing!"
"Merlin, look, now you've woken up the sleeping student!"
"Maybe he just woke up for some water… why is he—"
"No, wait, M-Madame, something's wrong with his ey—"
She had forgotten about the third year Slytherin currently occupying one of the beds in the hospital wing, right up until the moment he sat up, eyes rolled back to reveal only the whites and let out a terribly shrill scream.
Breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning was rather eventful. There were a lot of whispers; some hushed while others intentionally louder, shared amongst the students with regard to the latest drama within Hogwarts.
"And then, he transformed into a dementor."
Though word had circulated very quickly, it had somehow managed to get distorted just as quickly in the process — from the subject of the story turning into a dementor overnight. There was also one version where the victim of the rumours transformed into a dark creature with an obscure Latin name that wasn't supposed to be mentioned, out of fear of accidentally summoning it.
As for the actual version of the said story, only those within Slytherin seemed to be well aware of it.
After all, it had been one of their own who ended up being 'possessed' by a foul wraith, as Professor Merrythought had informed the students. But as to why such a creature had been lurking within the walls of Hogwarts, or who had possibly brought it in — there were no further details.
Professor Dumbledore had gone to inquire about the incident. But he managed to talk to Madame Florence only after she had attended to all the students who had been present in the hospital wing that fateful moment. The poor children had been badly shocked by the terrifying sight they had to witness. One of them, being a tad too close to the possessed student, had almost even been attacked — and it took more than a calming draught to treat him.
As for Gideon Scalby, the boy was immediately rushed off to Professor Merrythought's chambers, leaving the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor to deal with the 'foul wraith'.
To Professor Dumbledore's surprise, however, Madame Florence's thoughts seemed to be all over the place. She wasn't even entirely sure if Scalby had been brought in by someone or had stumbled into the hospital wing on his own in the first place!
Nevertheless, the deputy-headmaster discarded any possibility of her memory being tampered with. There weren't many people so well-versed with the art of Occlumency within the premises of Hogwarts, to begin with. 'Well-versed' to such an extent that even an elderly witch like Florence would have the barriers of her mind invaded into very easily, at least.
The staff at Hogwarts had tried to hush up the entire incident in order to prevent panic arising among the students. But their efforts had all gone in vain as proven by the noisy morning scenario over breakfast at the Great Hall.
All four houses were discussing it at their tables.
The atmosphere at the Slytherin table being the most reserved. The students deemed whatever had happened to Scalby as a personal attack on the entire house itself, and were on alert in case the perpetrator (Gryffindors being the prime suspects) decided to make another move.
Aside from the drama, Abraxas Malfoy never felt more relieved as he had been last night.
When he had heard of the 'possession of a student from Slytherin', he was greatly alarmed. He had thought that the victim was Riddle, seeing how he hadn't seen the other since their little argument before dinner. Abraxas would strongly deny hurrying out of the library (in an un-Malfoy like manner, good Merlin!), almost knocking down some prefect in the hallway, only to end up bumping into the very boy he was looking for.
Abraxas had completely forgotten that he was supposed to be angry with Riddle, and only realised it a tad too late — after he had grabbed the other by the shoulders and made sure he was fine. It was a rather awkward moment, but somehow, it eased the previous tension between the two.
In fact, Abraxas couldn't help but notice that Riddle was in a mildly good mood, which was a rare occurrence. But he didn't bother giving more thought to it because the chaos caused by the news of the unfortunate student had taken up much of his attention.
"Can you even believe how incredulous their words sound?" Abraxas sneered on overhearing the talk of Gideon Scalby transforming into a dementor. "This is why you should cross-check your facts unless you want to be uttering things that make you look like a fool."
Tom Riddle, who sat beside him on the table, only hummed in response. He sipped on his milk tea while reading the morning's edition of The Daily Prophet. The front page was splashed with news related to a rather infamous individual who seemed to be making the wizarding world warier of his existence as of late: Gellert Grindelwald.
The Dark Lord who stirred more fear in the hearts of people by remaining quiet than when he was up and about, wreaking havoc.
Tom skimmed through the words under one of the headlines that talked about the aftermath of the 'Durmstrang Tragedy', as it was dubbed. He wasn't particularly interested in the Dark Lord per se, but couldn't help paying this article more attention because it was something Harry had been involved in.
He could still vividly picture how Septhis and Harry returned to the manor after they had presumably dropped off the pesky vampire. The pale man seemed to be very furious over something, and Harry ended up being quite absentminded for the rest of the day. It wasn't only until late that evening that Tom learned about the accident.
But Harry and Septhis had come out of it practically unscathed.
So why were their reactions to it so… unusual?
Tom flipped over to the next page after reading the first few lines of the article, only to realise it was more to do with some lofty politician expressing their views on it to gain favour rather than anything relevant he was looking for.
As for his minimal participation in Abraxas Malfoy's conversation, the other did not seem to mind it at all.
Abraxas was rather relieved that Riddle had decided to start turning up to the Great Hall for his meals. He didn't want to hold responsibility for the other starving for days without food! Of course, this was because he wasn't aware that Tom had been receiving splendid service from the house elves of Hogwarts. The house elves had been quite enthusiastic about the task of bringing him his meals regularly.
"Oh, is that Grindelwald on the papers again?" Abraxas asked after having caught a glimpse of the infamous Dark Lord's name on the paper. His interest was piqued. "There have been rumours of him gathering more manpower as of late. People speculate he's going to start a large scale war."
"Oh?" Tom looked up from the paper and at the blond.
"But you do not have to worry over it." The blond hurriedly said. "My mother told me Hogwarts is a safe haven. And besides, it's not like the war will come all the way to Britain."
"You seem to know a lot," Tom began.
"It's not much," Abraxas replied while appearing to be visibly pleased. "Just some small talk I picked up on during the dinners I had to attend with my parents. All adult talk but, there's not really any harm listening to them. Mother always tells me to pay attention; it can go to great lengths in saving your life."
Tom gave a small nod, "I see."
"Well, I almost forgot," Abraxas slightly furrowed his brows, "I haven't owled my letter to mother yet! Please excuse me. I will meet you at potions."
Tom found himself sitting by himself for the rest of breakfast, not that he minded it. If Scalby had been here, it would have been a whole different story but the third year was… preoccupied with a rather traumatic incident at the moment.
And the Slytherins didn't appear to be too bothered by Tom's presence as they initially had anyway.
They knew that he was responsible for snatching more points for the house than any other first or second year, as a matter of fact, with his brilliant show of skills in academics. And it was just his third week in Hogwarts. Almost all professors who taught the first years had a new favourite star pupil!
And besides, the boy had always been accompanied by the sole heir of the Malfoy Family since the first day. It seemed that there was more than what met the eye when it came to him.
So Tom Marvolo Riddle, the mudblood, was left alone.
Gideon Scalby was a bully.
Of course, everyone knew that. Anyone lesser than him was a target, while those who sat higher up in the hierarchy of status were people whose feet he would shamelessly grovel at. His parents both came from well-known middle class wizarding families. They were graduates from Hogwarts and had been Slytherins themselves.
He was an only child and had been spoilt rotten. This influenced his nature and made him a very proud, selfish and loud teen.
Up until he ran into a certain evil.
A week had already well passed after the unfortunate incident where Scalby had been possessed. It had been just a week, but everyone could tell that the teen had changed. He was almost unrecognisable — not in terms of his facial features, but his entire demeanour.
Scalby had turned very skittish and scared. His eyes were always wide and filled with paranoia, and he appeared to be hiding from 'something'. What exactly it was, no one knew except for the teen himself.
Students were slowly trickling into the Great Hall for breakfast. It was Sunday morning, and there were no classes scheduled for the day, just a match of Quidditch between the houses of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. There was excited chatter among the students.
Gideon Scalby was hunched over his seat at the Slytherin table as he slowly spread butter over his toast. The usual clique that stuck to him was no longer around and so, he was all by himself. He had lost the little power he once held from bullying the weak.
"Have you seen Riddle?" Abraxas Malfoy asked a student before seating himself. "He left the dorms early. I thought he'd be here for breakfast."
Scalby's hand shook at the mention of that particular name, and the butter knife in his hand fell to the table.
"Oh, there you are, Riddle!" The blond exclaimed on seeing a familiar figure stride up to the empty seat next to the Malfoy heir. "Where did you go?"
"The library," came the curt reply from the dark haired teen.
There was a sudden commotion at the table. It attracted the attention of the two, along with the other Slytherin students nearby. All they saw, however, was a sorry figure hurrying out of the Great Hall, tripping over their feet.
"Wasn't that Scalby?" Abraxas asked aloud. He had never liked that third year.
Tom gave a light scoff.
"Right, what were you doing in the library so early in the morning anyway?"
"I was looking for a book," Tom replied as he neatly placed a cloth napkin on his lap; a dining etiquette and habit he had picked up from home. Speaking of which, it had been pretty quiet lately. He wasn't receiving the usual essay long letters from home. Perhaps he shouldn't have broken the news that he wouldn't be returning for the winter holidays too early?
But Harry would understand, wouldn't he?
"You always have your homework completed before dinner. Why would you go looking for a book?" Reginald Lestrange curiously asked from straight across the table where he was seated.
"And why can't he?" Abraxas quickly retorted, his tone sounding defensive.
Reginald raised a brow. "Last I checked, I wasn't asking you the question, Malfoy."
"Keep up with that attitude and see if you get help for your potions homework again, Lestrange." Abraxas replied without missing a beat. He turned away after throwing the other a glare and directed his attention to the owls that arrived with the morning delivery. "I wonder if mother sent me the quill I asked her for."
"Morning, Riddle." Alphard Black, a quiet teen politely greeted as he sat on the empty space to the dark haired teen's left.
"Morning, Black." Tom responded.
A week, it had been a week of quite a couple of changes.
For one, Tom Riddle's fellow first year Slytherins had begun initiating conversations with him. The ostracism against him, for being a mudblood, had considerably toned down after the supposed 'attack' on a Slytherin. It was a time that called for solidarity among the students of the house. They couldn't let little internal conflicts step into the picture until they found out who the culprit behind the attack was.
So yes, Tom had made a few acquaintances, Alphard Black being the first who had willingly approached him in the library.
"My, that's quite a beautiful owl!" Someone at the table couldn't help but marvel. Coincidentally, Tom lifted his head at this moment, only to realise he recognised said owl.
The gorgeous great horned owl, with wide and strong wings, carried a fancy black envelope. The envelope had an intricate decoration of silver, and a large red seal stamped with the Mortimer family crest. The owl, Felix, hooted before hovering above Tom and dropping off the letter right in front of him.
The owl's arrival and the fancy envelope it carried had already attracted a few eyes at the Slytherin table. Anyone who saw it immediately deduced that the owl belonged to a wealthy and old noble wizarding family. There was also that family crest on the seal to attest to it.
However, when the owl dropped off the letter, the identity of the one who received it attracted even more attention.
Tom slightly paused before picking up the envelope.
Abraxas cleverly took advantage of this situation to ask, under the many gazes, and in a voice slightly louder than usual, "A letter from home?" Some expressions of the students who heard the question visibly changed.
"Yes," Tom replied, a little absentmindedly as he broke open the seal and pulled out the letter. To his disappointment, the letter began with Septhis Mortimer's handwriting; neat cursive that was a rather dreaded sight.
"Please," Abraxas continued, "do pass on my regards to your father, and godfather. I don't think it is quite appropriate for me to write to them yet. However, I do look forward to meeting them again."
The dark haired teen nodded in response as his eyes ran through the lines on the letter. And Malfoy went back to focusing on his own breakfast now that he had played his little part. It was important that others knew Riddle wasn't a 'mudblood', for a start.
'…don't return with disappointing scores in your final examinations. If there are not enough books in the library of Hogwarts providing information on any topic you are confused with, write a letter home specifying which topics. I can assure you that my library has far more books than Hogwarts possibly possesses…'
It was not too long of a letter and was one that gave great stress on Tom's academics. Not that his academics was something to worry about in the first place. But he guessed it was the only topic Septhis could really write to him about. The relationship they shared wasn't one that was built on familial concern.
'…Clymene sends her 'love' and asks you to also write to her sometimes. Also, your father sends his regards and expresses his regret for being unable to write to you lately. He will currently remain unreachable for the time being. Please do not make any attempt at reaching out to him lest you be disappointed.
Remember, not good grades but the best grades in your entire term.
Yours lovingly,
Septhis Mortimer.'
…
Harry had not written to him, Tom noted this with a tinge of disappointment. But what was this about the man going to currently remain… 'unreachable'?
Tom unconsciously clenched the letter.
At this moment, another envelope dropped directly before him again. It was dark red, sealed with a family crest he unfortunately recognised (and scoffed at, of course), and just his surname scrawled on the front.
It looked very condescending.
"Oh, is this from someone you know?" Abraxas Malfoy asked, genuinely curious because he had never seen Tom receive letters other than those from home.
"Yes," Tom replied as he ripped the envelope open without care.
'Riddle,
You fool...'
There it was, the exaggerated calligraphic handwriting of one Sanguini — vampire with too mouthful of a name. And of course, it had to start with an insult. He must have been informed of Tom's plans for the winter then.
"It's from," Tom rolled his eyes, "a friend."
Abraxas was partly frightened because Tom, despite seeming irritated at the moment, had, he daresay, a mildly fond look in his eyes.