Intertwined → Tom Riddle

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

"Father," Amara whispered, her voice barely audible as she stared at the figure before her. "What are you doing here?" She quickly glanced around the clearing, making sure no one was watching, before her attention snapped back to him.

He smirked, an unsettling expression that made Amara's stomach churn. "I believe we are overdue for a conversation. It has been far too long."

To Amara, it hadn't been long enough. Despite their correspondence, she had kept her letters vague, always cautious that they might be intercepted. She knew he was aware of her progress, but he seemed displeased by it. The anxiety of this unexpected meeting clawed at her.

She led him to a small, empty building nearby, her steps quick and uneasy. Every few moments, she cast furtive glances over her shoulder, as if to ensure they weren't being followed.

"Of course," Amara said, biting her lip as she took a seat. "I have much to tell you."

Her father growled in response, taking a seat beside her and motioning for her to continue.

"Earlier this week, a beast was released into the castle. One that was hidden by none other than Salazar Slytherin himself." She paused, waiting for any sign of recognition or interest, but his expression remained unchanged. "I found this beast and unleashed it upon the school." Amara felt a swell of pride. She had done this on her own—no one had guided her, no one had helped her. This was her achievement, and while she knew her father might not be proud yet, it was the beginning of her own path in the dark arts.

"And then what?" her father asked, his brows knitting together as he maintained a neutral expression.

"Well," she began, taken aback by his lack of reaction, "it claimed a life, Father." She watched him carefully, hoping for some acknowledgment, but he remained impassive. "A girl is dead," she repeated, her voice trembling slightly.

He snapped his fingers suddenly. "Quiet! Amara, this is not enough. Not at all."

His words stung sharply. Hearing them come from her brother's lips ignited a fire of doubt within her, one that would not easily be extinguished.

"But—" she started weakly, though she knew arguing was futile, "I did something. I did more than Roman; I took a life—"

"Did you?" He stood abruptly, his eyes blazing with anger as he loomed over her. "Or did someone else, and you just took the credit like you always do?" The venom in his voice was palpable, each word laced with disdain.

"Fath—"

He cut her off with a spell, a silencing charm that left her unable to defend herself. "Do not defend yourself against the truth, Amara. You have failed me, yet again. You claimed one life—nothing more. What you did, Amara, is as trivial as a child's cold. You are nothing more than a little girl."

Her lip trembled, tears welling in her eyes despite her efforts to remain stoic. She wanted to wipe them away, to show no weakness, but her father's gaze seemed to pierce through her resolve. He saw her vulnerability, her pain.

He looked away from her, his voice growing colder. "Your mother would be so disappointed in you. It truly is a shame that both of my children have let me down. Roman was all too quick to give in, all too quick to beg for my mercy." He removed the charm, and a taunting grin crossed his face. "How does it feel to know that he got the spot beside your mother's grave? The place you so desired. It truly shall be a shame to leave you here, but the garden has become quite full."

Amara let the tears fall freely now, her hand reaching into her pocket for her wand. When she found it missing, panic surged through her.

"Your wand is in a safe place, do not worry."

She closed her eyes tightly, her breathing shallow. If this was to be the end, the way she had always feared, she didn't want to show any more weakness. With trembling hands, she wiped her tears, trying to hold onto a shred of dignity.

"Amara, my family of disappointments will end with you."

Her father drew out his wand. Amara shut her eyes as tightly as she could, bracing for the pain she knew was coming. "Crucio," he intoned, and a searing light erupted from his wand, hitting her squarely in the chest. The impact sent her crashing to the floor with a resounding thud. She had braced for this—she was used to the agony of the Cruciatus Curse, and she let it consume her. Her muffled whimpers were swallowed by the excruciating pain, but she accepted it with a grim sense of resignation.

As her father's next curse began to form, Amara prepared herself for more pain. But when the curse hit her, it was unlike anything she had experienced before. A fierce, scorching fire coursed through her arms, her skin bubbling and sizzling. The acrid smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils, and she felt her breakfast rise in her throat.

"Ple—" she tried to plead, but the agony was overwhelming. All she could do was cry, her resolve breaking under the relentless torment. Clutching her knees to her chest, she wished for the pain to end, to be freed from the suffering. If death was to come, she welcomed it.

"Ava—"

Her father's words were abruptly cut off by a loud thud. The sound of his body hitting the floor reached her ears, and she heard his wand clatter to the ground. New footsteps entered the room.

"What have we here?" The voice was authoritative and familiar. Amara's fear heightened as she lay curled up, unable to move or look up.

The voice muttered something under their breath, and then the sound of approaching footsteps grew closer.

"Amara."

It was Tom. His voice, soft and calming, called out to her again. "Amara." He repeated her name, and though she wanted to move, she was still paralyzed by pain and terror.

Tom knelt beside her, his presence a stark contrast to the cruelty she had just endured. He reached out a hand, his touch gentle yet firm. She saw him, through her blurred vision, as he looked down at her with a mixture of concern and resolve. His gaze conveyed more than words ever could.

A sudden gust of wind swept through the room, and Amara saw her brother's body disappear with a flash of apparition. The room was left with only Tom and her, an eerie calm settling over the chaos.

Tom's eyes were filled with a rare tenderness as he looked at her, his expression softening as he scooped her into his arms. She felt the familiar sensation of apparition, and as the world around her shifted, she clung to the hope that, for now, she was safe.