Tempus | Tom Riddle

SIX

The Ravenclaw common room was quite the opposite of Slytherin's. Sun shone brightly through the tall, arched windows, and quiet chatter accompanied the sound of scrawling quills and turning pages.

Many Ravenclaws spared Tom a curious glance, but when they saw that he was with Mercy they simply smiled at the pair and went back to whatever they were doing.

"Hello my loves," Mercy drawled as she approached two boys that Tom recognized to be her brothers. "This is Thomas Gaunt."

Ambrose, the older one, gave him a nod of recognition, while Dantes, the younger one, immediately straightened up. "The one from Durmstrang?"

Mercy glanced over to see if Tom would reply, but to her amusement he looked extremely uncomfortable. "Yes, the one from Durmstrang," she walked over to Dantes and smoothed out his hair, which was sticking up in multiple directions. "Don't you two have quidditch practice?"

"The pitch was double-booked by accident. Ramses gave us the day off."

"Ramses told me he might make Dantes a starter now that Frenchie has skipped out on a few practices," Ambrose revealed. 

"Starting already? As a second year?" Mercy gave her little brother a proud look. She turned to Tom, who was watching the family interact with an unreadable expression. "I know you're not much of a quidditch guy, but are you going to the game?"

"It's Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor this year!" Dantes exclaimed. "Mercy told me we haven't played the first match since she was a third year!"

Tom shrugged, knowing that he should probably attend for appearances. "Yeah, I'm going."

"Cool." Mercy kissed the top of Dantes's head and took a step back. "Don't be late for the prefect meeting tonight, 'Brose. Tom and I have to go do some studying, but I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see you." Ambrose nodded, giving Tom a once-over before re-opening his book. He tried to contain a smirk, wondering if Tom was another one of his sister's victims. She had many boys wrapped around her finger, and it was probably because she was both beautiful and unattainable. Even if she wanted to, she would never be allowed to enter a serious relationship without her parents' consent and a sit-down between their families. 

 Men always seemed to like what they couldn't have. 

Mercy and Tom retreated to a different corner of the room, where Mercy collapsed into a plush arm chair and pulled out her notes. Tom stared at her incredulously, for the girl was acting as if she hadn't just threatened him minutes earlier. 

"Are you going to sit?" She asked, gesturing to the seat opposite from her. When he didn't reply and simply sat down, rigid as a board, she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Look Tom, I'm really sorry about earlier, alright? But my family takes these matters very seriously." She still observed him with that curious glint in her eye. "I'd love to question you about some of the other things you've learned under his guidance - assuming you aren't still in cahoots with the man, of course."

"I never was - my parents were."

"You don't seem very upset that you are now an orphan."

Tom stilled, and he couldn't deny the irony of the fact that even in his falsified life, he somehow managed to end up a bastard orphan.

"They knew the risks," was all he said, pulling out his own notes and handing them to her. She thanked him, and placed them on the table next to her own. 

"Well I for one am interested in learning a bit more magic. My older brother, Athanasios, is the prodigal son ... he learned all sorts of magic at Hogwarts that isn't taught in the curriculum - don't ask how, because I don't know." She huffed. "Maybe he had his own version of Tom Gaunt."

"What makes you think I know more magic than you?"

"Well you've been taught dark magic, Tom." She spoke with intrigue and a hint of jealousy, whereas most people would recoil at the thought of becoming a practitioner of such things. "When I turn eighteen I'll start training with my grandfather, but Athanasios already knew so much by the time he started. I want to be just as impressive."

"Your family teaches you dark magic?"

"It's an important facet of our history," she hummed, starting to copy down his notes. This seemed to distract her from any further conversation, so Tom pulled out a book on wandlore and began reading, though he was distracted by the tapping of her fingers on the table.

"Could you stop that?" He snapped after having to suffer through it for an entire ten minutes. She glanced up at him, and with a smirk she did one final tap before placing her hand flat on the table.

"Wisenbach's Guide to Wandmaking." She tilted her head, now distracted from her task. A playful smile crossed her face. "Tell me about my wand."

She reached into her cloak and placed it on the table. Tom stared at it for a moment, and then looked back up at her with a raised brow. "I'm not a wandmaker. I can't just tell what wood this is by looking at it."

Mercy's cheeks tinged red. "Sycamore - geez. No need to be snippy." She watched Tom begin to flip through the pages of the book. "And a dragon heartstring core."

Tom kicked his feet up on the table as his eyes scanned the 'S' section. He was quiet for a long while, reading the passage to himself. An amused smile crossed his features.

"Well?"

"You bore easily. You like a challenge ... and if you find yourself settling into mediocrity, your wand might combust into flame."

Mercy laughed at this, picking her wand up fondly. "It gets me."

"Dragon heartstring is powerful and easy to train - and loyal." Tom closed the book. "I would think that someone curious like yourself would already know what their wand meant."

"This wand has been in my family forever - I never really bothered." Mercy shrugged. "What about you?"

Tom pulled his from his pocket, and handed it over to her. "Yew with a phoenix feather core."

She grabbed it tentatively, and was surprised by the feeling that developed deep in her gut, sinister and all-consuming. "It's beautiful," she commented, eyes widening as she looked up at him. "Phoenix feather is uncommon. So is yew, right?" 

Tom nodded. Mercy almost didn't want to give it up, but she knew that would be ridiculous so she handed it back to him. 

They shared an awkward moment of silence before Mercy went back to note-taking. Tom watched her for a beat, observing how her focus immediately zoned in on her task and blocked out everything around her, before flipping his book open once more.