Chapter 11

Idly tapping his cheek, Tom was sitting at his desk, looking down at the pages of the old potions book.

That might do. If done correctly it should all seem very natural.

He committed the relevant text to memory before closing the book, then walked to his trunk, but hesitated to replace it in its hiding spot. Should he burn the book instead? The hidden compartment would only react to his own wand, true, but couldn't they take it from him? He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to look everywhere, if it came to light that such a plot existed. Assuming that he could really hide anything from Dumbledore was foolish, even back at full strength...

Yet, burning the book and vanishing the ashes seemed like a true crime. Silly things like blackmail or appropriate killings were irrelevant. Burning this valuable book would actually be a crime. There was little if any chance of ever replacing it, and even if he never truly needed the book again in his life, it was always better to be able to read a book than not.

I'm going to need an appropriate hiding place outside of the school for my more valuable things. I should have had one already, it's foolish to assume my wards can't be broken into.

Tom set the book down on his bed, considered, then set his wand down beside it. He then leaned forward and performed the appropriate rites that opened the hidden drawer of the trunk. It contained a couple of books and a few more questionable items: ward-breaking glasses, maps of a few of the known passages out of the school, his spare invisibility cloak, and one of those ridiculous fanged Frisbee's.

Tom looked at the Frisbee for a moment and let out a small chuckle. Anyone who did find the hidden compartment would not look twice, the toy was against the rules, and that was why it was hidden. Unless they happened to think about why Tom Riddle would have a novelty toy. Against the rules, yes, but not at all something Riddle would have owned. He pulled it from the drawer and held it up in front of his eyes.

"A wizard isn't born into the world possessing magic; rather he is born into a world full of magic to possess."

Marwyn's writing. He let the forming incantation slip from his mind. There was magic all around him, the stones of the castle themselves heated the air with a faint tingle of magic.

Tom let go of the Frisbee as he closed his eyes, and it floated perfectly still in front of him.

Fire… There was fire in the room; the torches on the wall had inherent power that most people would never realize. The room seemed to heat up a few degrees at the thought.

Tom simply pictured ghostly translucent flames being drawn from thin air toward the toy, and suddenly he felt the heat.

He opened his eyes and smiled as he watched it burn up into nothing, as the device let out a quiet but pained scream. That made Tom laugh out loud, and he found himself with a new appreciation for whoever created the toy. Perhaps he should get another after all.

He returned his gaze to the apparent last drawer of his trunk. Closed his eyes briefly, and sensed nothing. Not being able to even detect your own enchantments was a very good sign; the concealment seemed secure. Then again, the school seemed secure; Tom knew all too well that security could be exploited.

He felt around the bottom of the drawer, pushing things aside to rub his fingers along the seams. Ignoring the texture of wood on his fingers he focused on any note of lingering magic he could find.

I can't even feel it; there is no way to open it. The contents will burn up if any serious tampering happens.

But was that really good enough? Tom had apparently been playing too fast and loose. It seemed he had Dumbledore's attention now, and leaving any sort of loose ends within his grasp would be a mistake.

No matter, nothing significant enough has happened to warrant this type of paranoia yet. There is plenty of time to cover my tracks once things are in motion.

Tom resolved to continue trusting in his hidden drawer for the moment, but to find a suitable place where he could hide anything he didn't want to have to destroy.

He grabbed his wand from his bed and pressed it to the bottom of the drawer, which gave off a faint blue glow as it lifted from place to reveal a much larger hidden compartment. He had already put Ancient Secrets back where it was accompanied by half a dozen other books with which he wouldn't want to be caught. Tom carefully placed Potions of Old into the compartment and took a quick mental inventory of what he had.

The contents could raise a lot of questions, and somebody who cares to investigate properly could put me into some hot water…

Tom thought about what conclusions one might draw from the contents as he picked up the .45 semi-automatic pistol from the corner. He pressed the button to drop the magazine and check it to make sure that it was still fully loaded and hadn't been tampered with. He then pulled the slide back in one smooth practiced motion and caught the ejected cartridge.

Tom stood and spun on his heel, swinging the pistol towards the door. He stopped with the sights directly lined up with the center of the frame, and he pulled the trigger three times in quick succession, click click click.

With a smirk he re-inserted the magazine and replaced it among the books, vials of multi colored potions, bracelets, rings and some other fun things that might prove useful.

After resealing the drawer, he took a seat on his bed. He planned to leave a couple hours after curfew, when all the boring people were confined to their dorms, to explore the school and whatever happenings may or may not be happening. He was fairly sure he knew what to expect: Burke and his goons, going about scaring children who wandered the halls, calling it an "epic prank". Unless having a number of scared children was a necessary component to some larger plot, having been called into question over something so mundane was contemptible.

What if it is a part of a larger plot? I hardly believe those morons are capable of stringing things together with any type of proper execution, but...

It all seemed like harmless pranks, reports of children chased off by a terrifying monster with no actual attacks or even real sightings. That could be a good cover up for something else, something darker. The administration certainly wasn't taking it too seriously, so a competent Dark wizard could hide nefarious goings on with an innocent explanation. Of course, he was the only competent Dark wizard among the student body - not that everyone else wasn't Dark, just not capable of what he was seeing. On the other hand, the Professors were more powerful, but he didn't think any of them were Dark. But that could just be prejudice. If it was a teacher, any of them had more access to the school, and more clout to get away with -

Tom shook his head. Then suddenly it struck him, if it was indeed a professor, one of them could be trying to get people upset only to "resolve" the situation later, in a grand heroic fashion.

But who? Professor Merrythought? He had a slow-cooking plot to sabotage her reputation, but she hardly could seem more secure in her position. Still, on a quick skim of the staff, she would be the most likely to do something like that.

Then again, not everything was a plot orchestrated by some master player. As much as he wished life worked like that, more times than not he had to work to get himself involved in any interesting activities.

What if there truly is some monster running around the school at night?

Tom had to at least consider the surface story. It seemed ridiculous; there were wards against that type of thing, he knew all too well. Any creature that could be dangerous to the students shouldn't be able to get in without alarm.

In theory. In practice, Tom had found quite a few loopholes in the wards, and he hadn't even considered exploiting the magical creature wards. Still, even if you could bring in something dangerous, why expose it by letting it scare children?

Tom wiped his face. Thinking about it was all well and good, but no one could enumerate every possibility in the short time left before he was going to go and actually find out for himself. He was feeling a bit more wary, now, though. Especially as he was probably as powerful as an average third year at the moment.

Tobo would surely say that his recovery was going remarkably well, all things considered. Tom himself was unsatisfied; he had given up his Muggle weight training because he didn't have the patience for the slow results. He certainly wouldn't give up his magical training, but it had to happen more rapidly.

After his Animagus transformation, he had nearly depleted himself, but it had rushed back like a tidal wave, boosting him to a new apparent plateau. It had been incredible for the short time he was wielding his might against a powerful foe. He would not be satisfied until he not only reached that peak again, but surpassed it.

Even if he was capable of transforming to a snake right now, it would do him no good. The actual effort of the first transformation had pushed him over some edge. There had to be other ways to expedite the process…

If I did get out of the castle and transform, I could hunt a unicorn… I'm not near death but it would likely restore my power.

Tom frowned and put the idea aside, he hardly needed more darkness start surrounding him at the moment. He could barely remember his brief scuffle with Monroe, since at the time he had hardly considered his actions, going off reflex, intuition.

"Oh, damn," he said softly. Monroe was a prefect, after all, what if they ran into each other tonight? After all, it would hardly be surprising to see Monroe bullying scared children. If only the boy wasn't so bloody infuriating! The hostility between them really had to come down to a more reasonable level, and that wouldn't happen if they interacted tonight. He would simply avoid him, no matter what. Anyone else who saw him, he'd just say that since he had slept most of the day, he was restless. That should end any questions or line of conversation.

After exiting his room, Tom warded his door quickly and walked towards the common room. A single person remained in the large room; Tom mentally kicked himself for thinking Monroe was the only person who could press his buttons.

Bellatrix Black was sitting in a chair near the fire, holding a book. Facing Tom.

"Bellatrix. I had hoped that of all people, you would know better than to try and poke your nose in my business. Yet I cannot look at a mirror without seeing your head clumsily darting out of view."

Bellatrix tried to seem taken aback. "I was not waiting for you!"

"I never said you were waiting for me. But, why were you waiting for me, Bella?"

Bellatrix stood up, the glare of the fire reflected in her eyes. Except that she wasn't facing the flames.

"I thought you'd want to know, Monroe is in the hospital wing! His girlfriend cursed him somehow, and broke two of his ribs!" She exclaimed with brief enthusiasm before calming to watch Tom's reaction.

Well, I did kick him from a full sprint… I probably should have considered healing him a little. I can't believe he would degrade himself by saying that he was defeated by a small girl, when he could have said he'd stood up to Tom Riddle! He could have even had me brought in front of Dippet... He must be afraid of me. Of course he is, but these seem to be actions that say "I've had enough Tom, you win." Or, it's a feint. Does he plan to strike in some other way perhaps?

Tom noticed that Bellatrix was still staring at him.

"Very good Bella, that is indeed humorous," he said, turning and walking away. After a few steps, he could tell Bellatrix was following him. He turned to her again and snapped, "Are you lost?"

Bellatrix's blank expression changed significantly and she sighed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that…" With that she turned and made her way towards the stairs.

Strange girl… Though I will need to make use of her soon, it's a bad idea but I will approach it differently this time. Leave no room for misinterpretation or error on her part.

Tom shook his head at the difficulty that would present. He pushed that thought aside and started out on his way.

If I was the average Hogwarts student trying to play shady games in the night I might consider the dungeons as an appropriate staging ground. I can also have a preliminary talk with Slughorn while I am down there. It will need to be done carefully, very natural and unassuming. I can't draw attention to the real question.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Professor Slughorn leaned away from the pewter cauldron and wiped the sweat from his brow; it would do no good to let his fluids taint the work.

"Three turns widdershins…" he recited from memory.

"Seventeen seconds of simmering… fifteen, fourteen..." He counted down to zero, when he emptied a vial of crushed leaves into the mixture and mashed them in carefully with a special wooden fork.

*Tap Tap Tap*

"One moment!" Slughorn shouted to the door behind him as he swirled the potion from the center outwards, counting nine turns. The potion turned from a pale orange to a thick pus-colored fluid. The Professor extinguished the flames, admired the potion for a moment, and then turned to go to his door.

"Oh, hello Mr. Riddle. I had heard you were ill, shouldn't you be in bed so you're prepared for classes tomorrow?"

The boy smirked at him. "Have no fear, sir, I'm always prepared for classes. Are classes prepared for me might be the better question."

"Ah hah hah!" Slughorn forced a laugh. The boy's arrogance was often amusing, and sometimes unsettling.

It was said that Tom had been exhausted from extensive study, so much so that he had missed classes today. Yet the boy looked more than fine. His mere presence seemed to dim the torches on the wall and cool the air, as though he drew power from it all.

Over his years of teaching and personally knowing many powerful wizards, Professor Slughorn had an intuition for which students would do great things. He knew that Tom Riddle was a student with unmistakeable potential.

"What can I do for you, ?" Slughorn asked, stepping from the doorway as Tom walked in.

Tom walked in a few paces and sniffed the air. "That is foul, Professor."

"Ah, yes it should be… You know, I think I burned out my nose long ago, Mr. Riddle." Slughorn sniffed the air and detected only the faintest odor.

"I haven't," Tom said, sounding near annoyed. The boy pointed to the far end of the room with his finger and swept his hand across to the door as though he was ushering somebody out. As he gestured, a moderate breeze carried all of the smoke and fumes out the door and down the hallway.

Slughorn blinked at that, and suddenly Tom's face was back to that of a calm and collected young man.

Tom walked over to the cauldron and looked in.

"Careful, Mr. Riddle!" Slughorn said as he reached out to draw Tom away. He hesitated, however, and let his arm fall back to his side.

"You don't want to get any of that on you, my boy!"

Tom observed the potion for a long moment and then stepped back. "No, I expect not… Just what are you up to, Professor?" The boy cocked his head curiously as he looked into the professors eyes.

"Ah… Well you see, that is a potion for-"

"An extreme case of near untreatable itchy boils." Tom finished for him easily.

Slughorn froze for a moment in fear. "Ha, ha well Tom, I guess I wasn't going to fool you by saying it was for growing hair… Even though the two are identical in smell, and close enough in color."

Tom waited a moment before speaking. "The length of your 'moment' before you came to the door was far too short for it to be a follicle regeneration potion. That final step is forty-four turns, and a three minute simmering. But the fire was out when I came in. "

Slughorn was taken aback. "Merlin save us! You really pieced it together from that?"

Tom smirked for a moment and then sighed. "I'd love to say yes, but that only occurs to me now. Truthfully, I am familiar with this potion, and I noticed the faint orange swirls, which appear infrequently along the sides."

"Oh." Slughorn replied, dazed.

"But I actually wanted to have a conversation with you, sir," Tom said before he turned away from the potion and took a seat on top of a desk at the front of the classroom. He gestured for the professor to take a seat at his own desk.

Professor Slughorn was happy to oblige, and avoid any questions about why he was brewing such a nasty potion on his off time.

"So Tom, what is it that I can help you with?" Slughorn pulled back his chair and took a seat at his large oak desk. He didn't fail to notice that he had to look up at the boy sitting on top of his own desk.

"Well sir, I spent today reading mostly, and I came across some interesting potions. Some of which I wouldn't believe existed, except for the fact that their creation seems plausible under the right circumstances."

Slughorn chuckled, "Ah yes, there are some curious ones." He leaned back and thought for a moment. "Felix Felicis comes to mind instantly. If we are to believe 'liquid luck' ever existed, then we are to believe that the potion literally created itself through sheer luck. One version of the tale has an earthquake knocking a certain ingredient off the shelf into a pot of poorly homebrewed fire whiskey. It then shook the ingredients together just right. Then, the would-be drunkard just happened to decide to use a special freezing charm on the potion and the fire in his kitchen."

He chuckled again. "He didn't understand the effects. He knew he was lucky, but he kept testing it in insane ways. They say he ran around for days chasing thunder storms. He would stand in the open as he watched lightning strike birds landing near him, or confused people who wandered over to ask him for directions to the quidditch world cup."

Tom's face was blank. "What do they say happened to him?"

Slughorn shrugged. "His luck ran out I suppose! He was struck by several bolts at once during one of his experiments. It would seem almost as though the storms were taking vengeance on being manipulated." That idea made him laugh.

Tom did not laugh; instead a serious look came over his face as he seemed to consider the idea for a moment. He then looked up. "That is a good one, sir, though I've heard of an even more interesting one. Very creative, the witch who made it was a genius. She managed to save her own life by creating it in a single week with nothing but knowledge and purpose."

"Hmm, I'm not sure I am familiar with this, Tom, do go on."

"Well sir, I hope you're not squeamish." He looked back towards the cauldron. When he looked to the professor again he had that smirk on his face again. "The potion does involve blood as the main component…"

Slughorn lit up at that. "Ah yes, now I remember. That tale is even more fascinating than the luck potion, because we know it to be true! It was a shame how it all turned out in the end, very messy affair…"

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*

Tom left the office feeling content with his plan; Slughorn had alleviated all of his concerns. Not only that, it had been good timing to walk in on him brewing illegal potions.

He is probably making all kinds of fun things for people with coin… Even if he ends up suspecting me because of that conversation, he knows that I am aware that he has some skeletons in his closet.

Even if he didn't get any clues as to what was happening after dark during his stroll, this had already been an extremely productive evening.

He had been walking for several minutes lost in thought, when suddenly he could feel somebody approaching around the corner.

They must be powerful if I can feel them when I'm this weak…

Tom took a few steps back and moved into the center of the hallway. At the same time, he stretched his wrist back and forth a couple of times to loosen it up for a flawless wand-draw.

A girl came around the corner, a sandy haired 4th year by the look of it. She was briefly startled when she suddenly walked into Tom standing his ground, but the look passed and she seemed annoyed.

"What are you doing?" Tom put authority into his voice.

She flinched momentarily but regained her composure. "What are you doing? You're not a prefect…"

Well she obviously knows who I am; can't return the favor.

"No, that's David Monroe. He apparently was cursed into oblivion by a young girl in a hallway. Maybe it was you?"

The girl laughed at the accusation. "Sam didn't curse him! He just got her angry."

Tom wanted to smile at that. The girl could have easily turned Tom in; she had to know that it was his doing that put Monroe out of commission. She was at least smart enough to keep her mouth shut.

"I ask again, what are you up to at this hour? Miss…."

"Miss Brown."

Tom waited till she sighed and gave up. "I was going to say I have Dippet's permission, but I get the feeling that won't fly…"

Tom nodded in agreement.

"Look, I'm not causing trouble, I just have business outside the school, ok?"

Tom locked onto her gaze to see if she would flinch. Instead, in her eyes he found flashes of a young boy waiting outside the schools wards.

He blinked and the vision was gone; he hadn't really meant to probe her mind.

That came a little too easily.

The girl didn't seem to notice that Tom had just peeked into her mind. He was unsure what to make of her, so he decided to make nothing of her for now.

"Ok, ok. I don't really care what you do." He stepped aside and let her past.

Once she was a dozen paces away, Tom raised his wand, pointed at her boots and closed his eyes. He felt his magic flow out and embed itself in the fabric of the laces in her boots. They seemed to almost glow for a moment, but it faded as she turned a corner. She would never notice, but Tom could get a general idea of where she was tonight if he needed to.

The wards prevented student from tracking each other by all means of which Tom was aware. His magic wouldn't stick on to students themselves, or their wands (which would be the most effective way), or the clothes on their bodies. Yet the laces in their boots were fair game for some bizarre reason.

Tom put it down to a shift in style; the school boots probably didn't have laces in the start when the wards were set in the stones, simply because there's no use for laces in magical boots. Over the years however the style of clothing changed and started incorporating more things just for looks. Every time Tom thought he knew something about the schools wards he just found more questions, so he tried to not think about it too hard right now.

It works, that's all I need to know at the moment.

He continued on his way around the castle, working his way up. Since he had bumped into "Miss Brown," nearly an hour had passed without event. The girl herself had left the wards and not returned, as far as Tom could tell.

Tom was making his way up a staircase when he heard muffled sounds around a corner a couple of floors up. He started to sprint up the stairs, and he caught a glimpse of a giant shape hauling something behind him. It disappeared around a bend, but Tom could still hear strange noises and grunting.

Tom was three steps and one leap away from the landing when the staircase suddenly moved beneath him and started swinging around. He had too much momentum to stop so he kept on, leapt for the ledge, and missed.

As the floor came rushing to meet him, Tom realized he didn't have time to use any magic, so he simply decided to roll into the landing as best he could. He did make the roll, but into a wall, and at a high speed.

Tom had always liked the dark humor in the idea of the moving staircase killing that girl, but he hadn't actually believed it. Now he was certain there was a horrible conspiracy to hide how bloody dangerous this thing was.

One thing at a time now… First of all, what in Merlin's name is that oaf up to? Tom asked himself, as he slowly got up from the ground while wincing from the effort of it.