The Seven {tom riddle}

Chapter Seven

Lunch was a quiet affair, as the Sixth and Seventh Years ate an hour after the others, leaving the long tables relatively empty. Zara had neglected to sit with them, one glare from Riddle sending her quickly in retreat, but everyone at the table noticed the downwards tilt of Orion's mouth as he watched her walk away. Tom in particular.

As everyone rose, heading to their afternoon lesson, he put a hand on Black's arm, nodding the others to go ahead.

'What's up boss?' The tall boy grinned. Tom did not return his smile.

'I see the way you look at that Hufflepuff girl.' He held up his hand, silencing any response. 'I want to make something very clear to you. No Slytherin ally of mine will dally with a Hufflepuff, or a mudblood.' He spat on the floor.

Though he was a couple inches shorter, his authority was clear in his stance and his gaze. His eyes were completely cold, almost a red reflection to them as he stared the other boy down.

'You will make it clear you want nothing to do with her. You will make sure she knows what she means to you. And what does she mean? What is she worth?'

Orion looked down. 'Nothing. She's nothing.'

Tom nodded in approval, releasing his arm. He was sure it would leave a bruise. They walked to potions together, seeming for all the world like two old friends.

△⃒⃘

As soon as Evelyn stepped into the Potions classroom, Slughorn came bustling over. He looked so similar to the way he did in 1997 that she almost burst into tears right then and there. Every familiar face reminded her of the faces that weren't present, the people she lacked and the friends that were missing. She wasn't as unhappy as she thought she'd be here, but Evelyn felt empty. The sense of not belonging was obvious, it was a wallowing hole in her mind that opened a little wider every time she laughed, or smiled, or glanced to Elias when she thought he wasn't looking. There was a constant reminder that these people were not her people, and this was not her home.

Thankfully she held the tears back easily— her promise never to cry was so far not a difficult one to keep.

'Miss Ollivander!' The stout Professor cried. 'Welcome, welcome.'

His jovial manner put her instantly at ease, and she took her seat with the other Slytherins as he beamed at them. They claimed a cluster of tables at the front of the classroom, Evelyn between Hera and Elias with a space on the far side for Riddle. The other three boys sat just behind them, a chair left for Orion.

Slughorn was idly chatting to Hera, complimenting her taste in beautiful jewellery when the two absentees walked through the door— if possible, the grin on the Professor's face grew even larger.

'Tom, Tom, m'boy! Nearly late aren't we!' he boomed, though he'd evidently been waiting to begin the lesson.

'Sorry Sir, Black and I were helping an injured girl to the hospital wing,' Riddle said smoothly. Evelyn coughed, Orion looked terribly uncomfortable and the lie was obvious.

'In that case, no worries at all dear boys! 20 points to Slytherin for such a charitable act.'

The boys took their respective seats, and Slughorn began to explain the lesson.

'Can anyone tell me what the Draft of Living Death is?' He asked the class. He looked hopefully to Tom who was studiously taking notes, then to Hera who was filing her perfect nails.

After a pause, Evelyn raised her hand. Maybe she could show old Riddle up.

'Yes Sir, the Draft of Living Death is an extremely powerful sleeping draught, sending the drinker into a deathlike slumber. According to Advanced Potion Making, its effects are similar to suspended animation. The Wiggenweld Potion reverses these.'