| Slowburn | Angst | Eventual Romance | Dark Romance | Alternative Universe | Magic Systems | Dark Magic | Machiavellian Tom Riddle | Secret Societies |
AU where magic has largely died out.
Previously unaware of his magical capabilities, and withou...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Oh, sure yeah, we had social societies at Lytch. I don't know what they look like now but back in the early 70's I was in a group at Aren house. That was me, Michael Marks, Eric Sandoval, a bunch of Norwegians whose names I have long forgotten. Henrietta Meadows was there too, I think she's the Dean now. That's a good job for her. It was mostly grueling labor, ya know? Studying, philanthropy, academic salons that never seemed to cease and went on for hours into the night. There's only so much dissecting the writing of Ayn Rand that a man can take. No wonder Michael Marks blew his brains out all over the courtyard walls. That was disgusting." - Greg Danvers, Bedford Prison, where he is serving a sentence for tax crimes.
"It's an augury," Antonin Dolohov said, pulling on his blue knuckles until they popped.
Omens had taken shape in twenty different forms since they had stepped foot on the cemetery road. Omens in the form of blackbirds, a mess of scattered deer ribs, the scent of rhubarb past season for it. Christ, a cat, had been an omen. Not a black cat darting from the bushes to draw a line in front of them as in the form of an old wives superstition. A tabby, which had leaped from the caretaker's porch to nip at Malfoy's jeans lazily. Tom considered that if he coughed loudly enough, Dolohov would declare it an omen for forthcoming tuberculosis.
"That is called lightning," Remial Nott corrected. "A natural phenomenon. Would you like me to explain it to you? I wasn't aware that they lacked such a thing in Russia."
"Bulgaria," Dolohov softly corrected, "And it's an omen when it comes without thunder or rain."
"By that metric, a bicycle without pedals is a car." Remial had stolen the words from Tom's mouth and formed them in his witty way. Piquant or not, the chatter was equally annoying.
Malfoy carelessly wiped dirt on his trousers, "Could you two please shut the hell up and dig? It's like listening to my parents bicker."
For Tom to work with his hands was a blessing. Men who declared themselves above compiling dirt beneath their nails were of no more use to the world than mosquitos or property tax. Moreover, if something is worth being done, it is worth being done by the sweat of one's back. There is merit in the sciences of the mind, the artist, and their easel, but there is more pride to be found in a job well done than in the half accomplishment of using a pen to write aims down rather than completing them.
