The Price of Gold | tom riddle

Chapter 37 - Before the Storm

Thankfully, it was a Saturday. Which meant no classes and therefore Star could avoid breakfast and hide away in the common room. Her cheeks still showcased the cherry blush that she had acquired the night before. She felt nauseous - and not just from the amount of binge drinking she had done. She felt ill at the thought of facing her friends after the position they had caught her in last last.

She paced around the empty common room, still in her pyjamas. It was trashed. There were cans and cups thrown on the floor, furniture was moved and turned on its head, and the floors had a disgusting sort of stick to them as she walked around in her slippers. The poor first years must've been stunned when they awoke and saw their common room in such a state.

The decorations and enchantments were still in place. She kept catching glimpses of her shimmering, gold self as she took turns about the room.

And perhaps worst of all, the portrait of their founder Salazar had suffered a nasty tear right through the centre of it, almost as if someone had slashed it on purpose with the sharpest dagger they could find. Star groaned as she ran her fingers across the slash. "Oh no," she spoke aloud as she assessed the damage. "Who did this to you, Salazar?" she spoke to the painting as if she were conversing with the founder himself.

"Talking to oil paints?" A voice spoke from the top of the staircase.

Star jumped in fright and turned to see Tom standing with one hand on the rail.

"Tom," she said, "what are you doing here?" Her voices carried a hint of fear.

"I thought it was best if I avoided breakfast, but now I see you had the same idea." He began to descend from the stairs.

"Oh no." Star buried her face in her hands. "Now none of us are there and the rest of them-"

"Are going to think we're up to no good," Tom finished her sentence then sighed.

"This is so bad," she groaned.

"It could be worse," Tom said.

"How?"

He paused for a moment. "They could have seen us butt naked?"

Star tried not to, but she smiled. "Yeah. I guess that would be worse."

"You're not going to grab at least something small for breakfast?" Tom asked.

"I think I'll vomit if I consume anything at this moment." Star gagged.

"Fair enough." Tom moved closer to her and the painting.

"Look what someone did to him." Star touched the cut canvas.

"It was some of the Gryffindors I heard. Or at least that's what Rosier told me last night. He's not a well liked founder to the students of the other houses. He had some unpopular values and ideologies that divided him against the other three." Tom observed the cut. "This was their way of making a political statement last night. God forbid our houses get along for one night." He tutted. "We invite them into our space and give them hospitable offerings and this is how they repay us, by acting like dim-witted animals."

"That's awful," Ostara said.

"Barbaric," Tom responded. "They wonder why we treat them as our inferior as if they don't act like this on the regular."

"Can we fix it?" Ostara asked.

Tom glanced at her and gave a small smile. "We can fix it," he said softly. He took his wand from his pocket and held it to the portrait. "Hold still, uncle, this may hurt."

"Uncle?" Ostara stopped him by touching his hand.

"Great, great, great, uncle, maybe? The exact lineage is unclear, but yes, I am his descendant." Tom gazed into the deep eyes of the wizard in the frame. "Through my mother's side."