The Boy Who Cried Wolf -- [Tom Riddle]

11 - Discovering the Second Face

"You really do have a way with creatures, Goldie." Septimus sighed, resting his chin on his palms.

Goldie chuckled slightly in response, glancing sideways at him with a twinkle in her eye. Wrapped around her arm was a juvenile Occamy, reaching for a small bug she held in her other hand.

Watching with fondness, she fed the insect to the young creature, watching it devour the food hungrily. Its blue scales glittered in the midday sunlight, twisting and rubbing against each other as it wound around her forearm. Its two purple wings flapped uselessly, not yet capable of supporting the young beast in flight. After finishing its food, it began plucking at the hem of her robes, which she paid little mind to.

"Excellent once again, Miss McCulain!" Professor Kettleburn grinned, giving her a thumbs-up.

She grinned at him, appreciating his eccentric personality.

"Goldie. Can you see Thestrals?" Elphias piped up as he sidled to the table, causing Septimus to scoff harshly.

Goldie shook her head, shooting Nott a warning glance. He raised his hands playfully in mock defence before chuckling,  "Just curious, birdie."

"Why do you call her that?" Septimus snapped, irked by the Slytherin's presence. "You aren't courting."

Elphias ignored the Weasley son, watching Goldie interact with the juvenile Occamy instead. He could see Thestrals; rather grim in appearance, he usually thought.

Nott had watched his older brother kill a Thestral in their manor grounds when he was a boy. It was only when the death had taken place that he could see the carcass, magical blood pooling into the otherwise perfect grass. His brother, driven mad in pursuit of dark power, had been killed trying to kill a dragon a few years later. Following in the footsteps of his brother, Elphias had developed his own range of killings. Mostly small animals in his childhood. His mother called him mad.

Naturally, magical creatures could sense his murderous tendencies and feared him. During class in fourth year, a Thestral had lashed out against him, leaving him with a nasty gash on one arm. When in the hospital wing overnight, a small, pitiful boy Elphias knew to be a half-blood had broken in to speak to him.

"Why was the Thestral afraid of you?" The boy had demanded, immediately clocking it with an intuition that unnerved Elphias. "You kill things."

"No." Nott had retorted pathetically, "Um... No I do not."

"Yes." The boy urged, then held out a hand. "Tom Riddle."

Elphias grimaced at the outstretched hand. "You are of filthy blood."

The boy scowled. "Okay. I will tell Professor Kettleburn you kill things."

Panicked at the idea of being expelled – as unlikely as it was – Nott shook Tom's hand.

"Elphias Nott." He had replied.

From that odd night onward, Elphias had never freed himself from Tom's unending grasp. He had not even killed anything in years, yet the half-blood always had dirt on Nott's name.

The first two years of being 'friends' had been rough. As the Knights of Walpurgis grew, Tom became violent. He favoured the Cruciatus Curse the most – Elphias had been one of the first to fall to it. The feeling of it striking through every inch of his body, crackling through his bone marrow and practically disfiguring his spine, had driven Nott to obedience. When doing a task for Tom, there was no room for freedom.

Though, it was not all bad. Tom had taught Nott how to break into the minds of creatures, controlling their emotions and making them compliant. Forcing the Fwooper on the first day to abandon its fear, it appeared perfectly trusting, giving the impression that Elphias had a good soul that was admired by animals.