When the Roses Bloom Again by TheBlack'sResurgence

Chapter 107

Where it All Began (Part One)

Late January 1972

Living life as she had these past months made Eleanor feel like she had returned to those years of discontent during the 1940s and Grindelwald's uprising.

Times had been different then.

She had been much younger and more vibrant, and excited to see what the future would bring.

A part of her had always hoped she would find someone like Harry Evans, a man of mystery that would keep her intrigued, but she had never let her desires make her bitter.

Harry and even the woman he had chosen had come to be among those Eleanor considered her greatest friends, and though her own marriage had ultimately failed, she had still been gifted three wonderful children.

Perhaps she was merely destined to be alone?

She had always been too much of a free-spirit, never able to shift the need of adventure, and that was partly why she found herself in Britain, still chasing thrills, and once more helping her friend.

Eleanor had begun her latest journey at Malfoy Manor, but it became quickly evident that Tom Riddle was not hiding here, nor had he been with Lords Rosier or Nott.

Each of the stately homes had taken weeks to search thoroughly before she had moved on to her next suspect, eventually arriving at Lestrange Manor.

Immediately, she sensed something different about this place, different but somewhat familiar also.

It was the magic of the protections here.

The older, powerful magic the pureblood families of Britain relied on to keep their properties safe was still prevalent but encapsulating them in a newer layer was magic not too unlike Harry's.

Riddle was a parselmouth, and Eleanor had no doubt that was what she was feeling.

She had tentatively ventured into the home a number of days ago and had slowly but surely made her way towards where the presence was strongest.

Sequestered in an isolated corner of the house, hidden behind a bookshelf of all places, she found where Tom Riddle was hiding, his lodgings as lavish as could be.

With almost serpent-like red eyes and pale, waxy skin, Eleanor had never seen such a man, nor had she felt so uneasy.

She had watched him closely, the comings and goings of others who came to visit him, and there was no denying the man was quite unhinged.

Often, he would talk to himself, speak his thoughts aloud as though he was conversing with another, and took no small amount of joy in torturing his followers who brought him unwelcome news.

They feared him, and rightly so.

There was no denying that he was a powerful wizard, but it was the insanity that plagued him that made him truly frightening.

How had he come to be so?

Eleanor knew not, but as more than a few dozen cloaked, and masked men entered the room, she was pulled from her thoughts.