Tʜᴇ Dᴀʀᴋ Lᴏʀᴅ's Aɴɢᴇʟ | Tom Riddle √

21: A Dark Conversation

Cassiopeia sat in Tom's dorm room, her expression filled with disappointment as she gazed at him. The topic they were discussing was a troubling one - horcruxes. She couldn't fathom why Tom was so fixated on the idea of attaining immortality through such dark means.

"So, are you going to make another horcrux, Tom?" She shook her head, her disappointment evident in her voice.

"Yeah, that will make me more powerful," Tom replied with a hint of pride. Cassiopeia found his arrogance on this matter to be foolish. Despite his brilliance, this obsession with immortality was a glaring flaw in his character.

Sitting on his bed in the corner of the room, she leaned her back against the wall, embodying her role as Tom's confidant. He extended a book titled 'Secrets of the Darkest Arts' towards her, explaining that he had found it in the restricted section of the library. She eyed the book warily, aware of the consequences of such reckless actions.

"You cannot bring it here, you know," she warned him.

Tom chuckled and reassured her, "Don't worry, I will replace it." He took the book from her and turned to a page that discussed horcruxes. Placing it on her lap, he gestured for her to read. The chapter was lengthy, but Cassiopeia carefully digested its content. The concept of a horcrux was deeply unsettling.

Horcrux, a powerful object in which a Dark wizard or witch has hidden a fragment of their soul for the purpose of attaining immortality. Creating one Horcrux gives one the ability to anchor one's own soul to earth if the body is destroyed; the more horcruxes one creates, the closer one is to true immortality. Creating multiple Horcruxes is suggested to be costly to the creator, by both diminishing their humanity and even physically disfiguring them.

However, a footnote at the end of the chapter caught her attention: 'This can be reversed from remorse. The creator can be reversed by truly feeling remorse, though the effects of this can apparently be painful to the point of being fatal.'

Cassiopeia closed the book and sighed deeply, her heart heavy with concern. She couldn't help but voice her unease. "Do you really want this, Tom?" Her eyes met his, searching for any signs of doubt. "I mean, it will destroy you. You know this will ruin your master soul."

Her hand instinctively moved to her hair as she pondered the dark path Tom seemed determined to tread. She feared he would become a monster driven by an insatiable hunger for power.

"I just want to become the most powerful darkest wizard and rule the world," Tom declared, his eyes brimming with confidence and ambition.

Cassiopeia couldn't help but ask about his close associates, who she often saw with him. "Then, what about your little fan club you made up with Abraxas, Rosier, Nott, Avery, and my brother?"

"They are my followers," Tom replied nonchalantly, leaving Cassiopeia chuckling at his audacity. "What?"

"Are you a Lord or something?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. Tom was always full of surprises.

"Why not, let me show you," he said, taking his diary from the table and writing his name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. But then, he began to transform it into something darker.

"I am Lord Voldemort."

Cassiopeia was taken aback, and she muttered, "What on earth, Tom? This is unbelievable." Disappointment etched across her face, she couldn't fathom the recent changes in his behavior. Tom casually placed his diary back on the table and rested his head on her lap, his gaze fixed on her.

"You could be my lady, how about a title like Dark Lord's Angel?" he proposed, attempting to lighten the mood. She burst into laughter, and he raised an eyebrow in response. "Why the laughter?"

Cassiopeia ran her fingers through his dark, curly hair, her demeanor softening. "You're not a dark person, Tom," she said. "You chose the path of darkness over the light."

Tom's response was quick and affectionate, "You are my light; I know you'll always be there."

Cassiopeia sighed, realizing she couldn't change his course. Only Tom had the power to do that, to stop himself from descending further into darkness.

Then, Tom made a disturbing statement: "We can gain power over Muggle-borns." Cassiopeia's eyes widened in disbelief, and she felt anger welling up. It was clear that Tom was changing, and she feared that the last traces of his humanity would soon be gone.

"Why did you stop?" Tom grabbed her wrist, encouraging her to continue caressing his hair. "Don't stop; no one has ever shown me affection like that."

Setting aside her previous question, Cassiopeia inquired about the horcruxes Tom had created. He evaded the question, implying that he didn't want to discuss it further. She shrugged and gently patted his chest, leaning her head against the wall, staring at the ceiling.

She pondered the high cost of creating horcruxes and realized that it required performing dark deeds. If Tom had already made a horcrux, it meant he had taken a life for the sake of his own immortality.

Observing the boy who lay beside her, fast asleep, Cassiopeia marveled at how his innocent appearance concealed the darkness lurking in his mind. She bent down and planted a tender kiss on his forehead, admiring his features as her hand gently caressed his face.

"Tom, you're not evil," she murmured. "You still have time to change."

Tom, apparently not asleep, opened his eyes and chuckled as she gently tapped his chest. Their banter continued, with Tom teasing her.

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes playfully. "Liar," she retorted sarcastically, making him laugh again. His comment about her being "feisty" only deepened her amusement.

She defended herself, her brows furrowed, and looked into his eyes. "No, not feisty. I love you, Tom."

He reciprocated her feelings. His hand caressed her cheek, and he pulled her into a passionate kiss, causing her to lose herself in the moment. The kiss deepened, and she felt an undeniable attraction between them.

Their intimate moment was suddenly interrupted by Lestrange, who walked into the room and commented, "Now, is it your habit to spend time in boys' dormitories, huh?"

Cassiopeia clarified, "Dormitory, Brax," as she rolled her eyes in response to his snide remark. Tom pointed out their shared eye-rolling habit, leaving the older brother somewhat perplexed.

Braxton Lestrange leaned forward, directing his question at Tom and Cassiopeia. "Do you know that Abraxas suspects you two?"

Cassiopeia shook her head in denial, but Tom remained silent. His expression, however, conveyed a clear indifference. The issue at hand, for him, was not about suspicions but centered on blood purity, a matter of paramount importance among pure-blood wizarding families.

"I don't care about it," Cassiopeia retorted firmly. Her response seemed to puzzle Braxton as his brows furrowed in thought.

She continued, her voice unwavering, "I mean, I don't care about that blood purity thing. Please, let's not dwell on it. If Abraxas ever confronts me, I know how to handle it better than anyone."

With her final words, Cassiopeia rose to her feet, her gaze filled with a mix of determination and frustration. She fixed a lingering glare on both Tom and Braxton, then turned and walked out of the dormitory, leaving her unspoken convictions behind.