Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆

November 1943:

Tom and his group of knights entered the common room, instantly evoking a sense of familiarity and comfort that had been missing in the midst of recent stressful hours. The scent of earthy wood and leather enveloped them, a reminder of the place they considered their home.

However, their presence weighed heavily on the other students who dared to remain in the room, casting a palpable tension in the air.

Riddle lifted his hand, a silent command for the remaining students to leave, granting the boys the privacy they desired. He lacked the strength to speak, his energy drained by the exhausting events that had transpired. The students swiftly gathered their belongings and departed, granting the group the discretion they sought.

Tom settled into a velvet green armchair, burying his head in his hands. He took deep, steady breaths, attempting to calm his racing thoughts. A stray strand of his unruly, black hair fell across his forehead as he looked up. He tried to relax his body even as unpleasant memories flooded his mind.

The rest of the group stood uncertainly, unsure whether to sit or stand, their voices held captive by the fear of provoking the anger their leader proudly strived to maintain. They knew all too well that Tom rarely faltered in his carefully crafted persona.

Riddle lifted his gaze, his eyes piercing with intensity. "What are you waiting for?" he groaned, his words carrying a mixture of impatience and command. In response, the group hurriedly took their seats, surrounding the man who had summoned them together, their curiosity burning within them due the lack of information about their new plan.

They awaited further instructions, their hearts pounding in anticipation, but the tall figure seated before them remained silent, each passing second feeling agonizingly slow, as slow as the seeker on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.

Abraxas was the first to break the silence, his voice laced with curiosity and skepticism.

"1991?" he questioned. "Why choose that year? What did you see?" Tom's gaze turned vicious, and he decided to ignore his follower's inquiries. He was not to be questioned. Blind loyalty was expected, and such questions bothered him. A tinge of sorrow filled Nott's eyes as he spoke up.

"Are we all attending? Will we ever come back? Can we at least bid farewell to our families?" The question resonated with Tom, as it implied a willingness to sacrifice and leave behind everything for his cause-something he deemed necessary.

"I haven't decided if I will return," Tom responded, his tone measured. "However, if I emerge victorious in this war, you may have the opportunity to return to the present." The answer seemed to appease Nott's nerves, as a sense of calm washed over him. Riddle paused, contemplating his next move. "Nott, I will require your assistance. It is crucial to my quest that Dumbledore as well as the other professors forget our identities before the journey. Can you achieve that? Is there a potion or object capable of accomplishing such a feat?" The question was a formality, for Tom already knew the answer-the existence of such artifacts.

Enzo swallowed hard, his gaze shifting upward as he pondered the most efficient way to fulfill his leader's request.

"I will find a way." he replied with unwavering confidence. A smile of approval graced Tom's lips in response.

"Lestrange, your task is to retrieve the amulet for time travel." Riddle commanded, his tone authoritative. The boys nodded in agreement and went their separate ways to carry out their assignments.

Although both of them were unquestioningly loyal, Lestrange couldn't help but resent Riddle's condescending attitude. While Tom was undeniably a powerful and brilliant wizard, he lacked the ability to connect with others on an empathycal level.