The Seven {tom riddle}

Chapter Five

The rest of the dinner passed quickly and uneventfully. Evelyn used the time to observe the six Slytherins carefully, mentally noting down her judgements of them.

As far as she could tell, Riddle seemed the most well respected, perhaps feared, of the group. He spoke less often than the others but when he did it was always with the same quiet arrogance, the same command of attention. She narrowed her eyes. She was not stupid, she knew he was likely young Voldemort. It was nearly obvious to her, from the way the others looked to him as leader and the dark glint behind his constantly bored expression.

Her heart burned at the thought she was sitting across from the reason for so much sorrow, loss, and anguish. Her hand twitched involuntarily as she contemplated throwing a quick killing curse across the table, but Ginny had told her, much to Harry's disapproval, about the Horcruxes. There was a possibility he had already made some, and these would have to be destroyed for Voldemort to truly die. She would have to quell her anger, if only for the time being.

She thought back to her time in the Malfoy cellar. The darkness had been the only way to rationalise her emotions, to calm her rage. It had told her to hone her fury, to use its heat to shape and smelt something greater. In the cellar, she had needed hope, but this time, she would forge in the fires of her cold heart an instrument of death. She would form a silver bullet, so hot and bright it wiped Tom Riddle off the face of the Earth, forever.

Evelyn vowed to herself she would do whatever necessary to achieve her ends. That was another thing to add to her list of nevers— never cry, and now never give up. How inspirational.

Riddle himself seemed much to cold to get close to, too difficult to read and too closed, so this meant she would need to find out about him through the others. Black and Rosier had warmed to her most easily.

Black seemed exactly what Zara had dubbed him: a typical playboy. He'd already been greeted by several Slytherin girls and a couple Ravenclaws that the group loving called his ex conquests, and Evelyn was sure more than a few boys were eyeing him up. It seemed by spurning his advances she'd landed herself firmly on his good side, and out of loyalty to Zara she decided to keep it this way.

Riddle was surely much to clever to entrust either Black or Malfoy with much information. Black was notorious for sharing many a pillow, and to Evelyn's sharp mind, this meant too many opportunities for pillow talk. It would be easier to find out what he knew by asking someone he regularly slept with. As for Malfoy, by 9'oclock the boy had become completely intoxicated. He absolutely reeked of alcohol and made next to no effort to conceal his state, so much at odds with his earlier coldness as he laughed loudly, poking fun at Black.

Rosier, she was a little more unsure of. As Zara had said, he seemed much too kind hearted to be roped in with the rest. He was quiet but friendly, keeping up calm conversation with her and with Hera on his other side. She learned his family was large and clearly influential, but he somehow lacked the arrogance of the other five. He reminded her a little of herself, or of some of her friends back home— something suppressed, almost downtrodden about him. He kept shooting little glances at her, and Evelyn did not fail to notice the hand he carefully placed on the table beside hers, leaving them almost touching.

Lestrange also appeared to notice this, scoffing and rolling his eyes. It seemed he rolled his eyes a lot, and that he looked to Riddle the most for reassurance when he spoke, like a dog looking for a treat. Everyone else, however, he surveyed with a hard gaze, something painfully sharp behind it. He spoke very little to Evelyn, only once turning to her to imperiously ask her to pass the salt.

Hera also held her silence, laughing with Black and Malfoy, chattering with ease to Rosier, but saying nothing further to Evelyn. However, as dinner ended and they all rose, she pulled her aside, letting Tom - her fellow prefect- guide the first years to the common room.