Begged and borrowed time - Tom Riddle

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐

December 1940:

The boys gathered at the breakfast table, their camaraderie marred by the absence of their leader, Tom Riddle. Amidst the lively chatter and abundance of food, the atmosphere was vibrant, except for those entangled in Tom's affairs.

Abraxas Malfoy took his seat, his appearance pristine as always, a reflection of his family's reputation. In contrast, Nott, Lestrange, and Rosier looked disheveled, their hair tousled and dark circles etched beneath their eyes. Their sleepless nights had been consumed by relentless research, buried in books and parchments. Malfoy chuckled at their sorry state, provoking a slight frown from his friends

"Riddle won't kill you if you get some sleep." He joked, being the only one in his group of friends who seemed to have slept that night whereas the others invested additional time doing a great deal of research regarding Tom's plans.

Nott arched an eyebrow in response, his expression devoid of humor. "You know that's not true." he retorted, the weight of their endeavors evident in his serious tone. Sleep-deprived and burdened by the audacious idea of traveling to the future, there was little room for levity in their current circumstances.

"Death might be a welcome respite after this dreadful week." Rosier exclaimed with a hint of mockery, eliciting laughter from the boys. Nathaniel, the jovial one among them, reveled in the joy he brought, his eyes sparkling with each shared chuckle, his lips curling upwards.

The spectacle of the Slytherin group laughing was an uncommon sight, drawing bewildered gazes from the entire dining hall. Yet the boys remained oblivious to the attention, either unaware or simply indifferent to the curious onlookers.

At that very moment, Tom Riddle entered the dining hall, casting an abrupt end to the laughter. All eyes that had been fixed on the group of boys now turned to the Slytherin prefect as he made his way to the long table. His stride exuded elegance and confidence, accentuating his tall, slender figure. His pale, luminous skin seemed flawless, casting shadows that accentuated the meticulously chiseled contours of his face. Some students regarded him with unwavering admiration, willing to offer him anything he desired, while others felt an overwhelming sense of intimidation in the face of his unyielding sophistication.

Tom made his way to his followers, paying no mind to the lingering stares from others. He settled himself in front of his so-called friends, a term he used loosely.

"How is your progress coming along?" he inquired, his gaze briefly shifting to the teachers' table. Most of the professors appeared engrossed in their own conversations, but one caught his attention. Young Albus Dumbledore was fixated on Tom and his group, wearing a perplexed expression as if questioning why he hadn't noticed them before. Tom quickly averted his gaze, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. A faint smirk formed on his lips, relishing in the fulfillment of his desires and asserting his own greatness. He was but a young adult, yet he could effortlessly manipulate one of the world's most renowned sorcerers.

Lestrange began to speak about the time-turner, but he was abruptly cut off by Tom's dismissive interruption.

"A time-turner won't be sufficient." Tom stated, his eyes fixed elsewhere.

"But your plan relies on time travel." Lestrange voiced his concern, fearing the consequences of failing in his assigned duty.

"Indeed, Lestrange. My plan involves traveling in time to infiltrate Hogwarts, specifically during the first year. A group of young men would raise suspicion among the sixteen-year-old students, wouldn't you agree?" Tom calmly explained, his voice low and measured. The boys listened intently, their previous obliviousness now replaced by a sense of shame.