His Violent Delight (A Tom Riddle Fanfiction)

Chapter XI : Falling

I needed my wand back. Being without a wand felt as if I was missing a limb. I needed it back. I needed it back now. I needed to confront Tom Riddle.

All of Slytherin would be arriving after dinner to celebrate their victory with a party. Some things never change, I thought, reminiscing about the parties Hufflepuff House would throw when we won. I figured I'd arrive at dinner late when I saw Tom make his way to his dormitory after the match. That is where I was heading, into the lion's den itself to take back what was rightfully mine. When I reached Tom's door, my heart started pounding with a mixture of anger and anticipation. Before I could second-guess my actions, I knocked.

The door swung open, and to my surprise, it was Isabella Burke who stood before me. Her appearance was disheveled, her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment. I even noticed how the top buttons of her polo shirt were undone.

It was clear I had interrupted a moment, but I didn't care. I needed my wand back.

"I need to speak with Riddle," I said, my voice carrying a weight of authority I didn't feel.

Isabella's gaze was venomous. "He's busy," she snapped and went to shut the door in my face, but her protest was cut short as Tom's voice came from within.

"Let her in, Isabella. I believe we have matters to discuss," he said, his tone laced with amusement and something darker.

Isabella's glare intensified, but she stepped aside, letting me in.

"Privately," he added.

Isabella slammed the door behind her with such force, I could hardly believe her small figure was capable of such violence.

Tom Riddle's room was bare. The sheets were Slytherin green, his desk was perfectly organized with this year's textbooks. He had no picture frames, no personal belongings. Nothing. The room had no personality, void of any emotion.

Tom sat casually on the edge of his bed, a picture of calm indifference. The contrast between Isabella's flustered allure and Tom's eerie unaffected composure frightened me.

Without preamble, I stated my purpose. "Give me my wand back."

Tom observed me for a moment, his gaze penetrating. "And what are you willing to give in exchange?" he asked, a silencing charm cast with a lazy flick of his wand to ensure our privacy.

I bristled at the suggestion. "I owe you nothing, Riddle."

Tom stood up from his bed and walked over to me. With each step, the distance between us got smaller, until there was barely any room for me to move.

"Everything has a price, Amelia. Surely you've learned that by now."

The proximity was unnerving, his presence overwhelming. Yet, I stood my ground. "What do you want?"

He circled me, like a predator assessing its prey. "Information. About you."

I recoiled at the suggestion. "I can't give you that," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

Tom paused, his expression contemplative. "Who are you? Waltzing into Hogwarts out of nowhere, speaking the language of snakes. What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything, just give me my wand."

"That's not how this will work, Diggory. If you won't give me the information willingly, I'm afraid I'll have to retrieve it from you unwillingly. Again..." He smirked, reminding me of how easily he had penetrated my mind a few hours ago.

"I suggest this. How about you ask me a question, and in return, you give me back my wand?" I spat back at him. That seemed reasonable if he wasn't going to cooperate.