The Boy Who Cried Wolf -- [Tom Riddle]

17 - Assumptions

Staggering backwards from the window, Goldie took a shuddering breath. She kept her eyes fixed on the wizard down below, who smiled and waved up at her.

“What the hell...?” She murmured to herself, turning and rushing out of the bathroom.

She hurried along the corridors, passing by Riddle as he made his way back to Slytherin, the diadem being knocked out of his hand as she accidentally bumped into him. As soon as the cool metal touched her, flashes of violence wreaked through her mind, gone as quickly as they came. Taunting, a green flash of a spell, spilled blood.

Tom staggered backwards as she skidded to a stop, staring at him. His face was twisted in confusion and slight irritation as he glanced her over.

“How?” He spat. “How are you here?”

“You mean, ‘how are you back here alive after I abandoned you in the depths of Albania’?” She taunted, choosing to ignore the strange vision from the diadem.

Before he could retort or lash out at her, she turned and resumed her rush through the castle. She could feel his piercing eyes on her back as Tom bent down to pick up his Diadem again.

As he lifted the small tiara, he winced. It felt almost polluted to him; as though something was tampering with the dark magic he had instilled in it. Willing his own magic back into it, it filtered out whatever was trapped in it, and he pocketed it.

He truly did not understand how Goldie had gotten back from Albania already. She was incapable of apparating; it was taught in seventh year, but not yet. He had taught himself, and his Knights had been taught by their families. Goldie had no family, and she was not intelligent enough to teach herself. He was sure of it.

Yet, despite that, she was back. And seemingly well – the red on her cheek had vanished, and her clothes were perfectly clean of mud. She had been back long enough to get changed, and it was a gaudy sweater he recognised to be the work of Weasley.

Disgusting.

As he pushed down his distasteful thoughts, he stared at where she had vanished to. The girl seemed to be in a panicked rush, not even giving him time to respond. Fascinated, and not remotely concerned, he followed the path she had taken.

Unknowing of the boy tailing her, Goldie hurried to one of the castle’s exits. Once there, she emerged from the warmth of the school and made her way into the chill of the evening, snow crunching underfoot. It had thawed significantly during the day, leaving patches of grass visible, but it would surely begin to snow again soon.

As she stormed across the grounds, she arrived rapidly to where Grindelwald stood waiting, near the Quidditch pitch.

“Goldie.” He greeted.

“Grindelwald.” She returned.

The dark wizard gazed at her for a long stretch of silence, analysing her. She shifted anxiously under his scrutiny; she knew that coming out to meet him was a dreadful idea, but she had to.

He knew things she wanted.

“Cold?” He chuckled, watching her shiver slightly.

“Obviously.” She spat. “Look around. It is Winter.”

He responded calmly, “Yet you came without a cloak or robes.”

“Do you bring a cloak with you when you attend the bathroom?” She mocked. “Perhaps you should invest in better heating.”

“Such audacity for such a young witch.” He drawled, amused by her remark. “Do you know why I am here?”

“You want the book back again?” She shrugged in exasperation. “Well, I no longer have it.”

“I am aware.” He chuckled again, stepping closer. “You know that I am a Seer, yes?”

She nodded, taking a few steps backwards. Indeed, she did know that. Dumbledore had informed her only earlier, bringing many previous issues to light.

“Your book was stolen from you in Albania.” He stated, clasping his hands behind his back. “By none other than the one closest to you now.”

Goldie considered a lot of people to be close to her. Septimus and Monique being the closest; they were the most pleasant out of all of her friends. She suspected that Rosier no longer counted, as it would be rather difficult to steal a book in Albania while he was rotting in Azkaban.

However, despite who she believed her closest friends to be, she knew he was referring to Riddle. Unfortunately, the monster of a boy knew the most about her, which she supposed boosted him to the top.

“Why?” She grumbled harshly. “It is not like he can read it.”

Grindelwald raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. She supposed he had a point; Tom was not one to accept the easy way and give up. He would figure out a way.

“...Why are you telling me this?” She muttered scornfully. “I know there is more you are keeping from me.”

“Perhaps.” He mused. “Perhaps not. Though, I suppose you no longer need that book.”

Goldie scowled. How could one man know so much? It was wholly unfair on the rest of the world. “Maybe.”

He chuckled at her response. “I can teach you, Goldie. Things he cannot.”

“I do not want your help.” She snarled, taking further steps backwards. He followed. “You use dark magic.”

“As do you, dear.” He retorted calmly. “In terms of morality, surely murdering my followers counts as dark magic? No matter what specific kind you used.”

Goldie grimaced. She had killed those two followers in the Malfoy Manor, and she was not proud of it. “That was out of defense, and you know that.”

“Quite the contrary.” He disagreed, drawing his wand. She eyed it. “I have little control over what in particular I See.”

“Well, it was defense.” Goldie spat, drawing her own wand in response to his action. “Why are you here.”

“Let me teach you.” He urged, his voice remaining relatively level. “You are destined for power, just like your ancestors.”

“Your dark methods are not what will bring me to ‘great power’.” She ridiculed.

“It did for me.”

She huffed slightly at the response. Grindelwald was a tricky man; he knew exactly what to say, and when to say it. Uncomfortable with the topic of learning dark magic, she swiftly changed the subject.

“How did you get past the wards?” Gripping her wand, Goldie questioned.

“I did before. Surely you remember?” Grindelwald smiled lightly, his head tilting.

She did remember. When she was enrolled – Dumbledore had admitted he had no idea where she had come from. Judging from Grindelwald’s statement, he had gotten past the wards, gotten into the castle, and changed the enrollment himself.

“...Why?” She mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows in concern. “Why send me here when I would have been raised otherwise?”

“It is true that I controlled all of your host families.” The wizard hummed, looming over her. “However, you would never had learned to be your own person if I had kept you within reach.”

“Was it due to you that I was moved from the orphanage?” Goldie pressed, feeling concern rising in her throat.

“No.” He shook his head. “One of the families working under me adopted you out of goodness. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew who you were.”

“How? My family was not well known.”

“I had heard wind of a newly-born heiress to an old Irish legacy in the late 20’s.” Grindelwald explained. “After some significant searching, I learned of the death of Ariadne McCulain, and failed to locate you. I attended the funeral. You quite resemble your mother, you know.”

“She was victim to a mother and baby home.” Goldie murmured. “They told me before I left the orphanage.”

“Such terrible morals, those Muggles.” He sighed. “Tearing babies from mothers due to their marital status.”

“The wizarding world has the same marital standards.” Goldie retorted, recognising his pathetic attempt at affecting her emotions.

“I suppose.” He murmured, a glint in his eye.

“Why did you tell me about my book if I have no need for it?” She questioned roughly, her patience wearing thin.

“Giving you more opportunities to grow, I suppose.” He shrugged half-heartedly.

Goldie did not believe him.

He was plotting something. Waiting for something particular to happen. Something about the book from her ancestors, and something about Tom.

She just did not know what.

“Shall I give you a hint?” He chuckled, a nasty mocking hidden in his tone.

She stared at him. He did not continue.

“What?” She snapped incredulously.

“Well.” Grindelwald spoke lowly. “I would tell you, but it seems we have a visitor.”

Before she could turn around, Grindelwald flourished his wand without a sound. She was thrown backwards, colliding with someone. They both tumbled, rolling over in the snow-covered grass a few times, before stopping with a groan of pain.

“My apologies, Goldie.” Grindelwald taunted from his spot in the snow. “And you, young boy.”

As Goldie grunted in pain, sitting upright, Tom got to his feet a few metres away.

“Ridiculous.” The boy hissed under his breath, casting a spell back at Grindelwald.

The dark wizard reflected it easily, watching Tom with amusement. Tom scowled in response, firing a barrage of spells Goldie did not know at the wizard. Grindelwald deflected and blocked each with ease, hardly ruffled.

“Really, boy?” He mocked lightly. “Do try harder.”

Goldie got to her feet as she watched Tom attempt again. His tries were fruitless; he was a schoolboy attempting to duel a dark warlord.

“Tom!” She called, trying to prevent him from angering the wizard. “Stop-”

“Silence, McCulain!” He hissed in response, firing a simple spell her way to warn her to back off.

It was only a stinging jinx, from which she recovered in a few minutes. Backing away from the one-sided duel, she watched Tom’s attempts grow darker as he grew more irritated. She could recognise some curses and jinxes from past altercations; one of them being the black cobra he had used to kill Grindelwald’s follower.

“Really, Tom?” Grindelwald questioned in amusement, easily flicking away the cobra in her direction. “That one again?”

Goldie gasped and staggered backward as the cobra hissed at her, rearing its head. While it was beautiful, she knew it was lethal within seconds, and she did not want to be a victim of its venom.

As she tried to prevent angering it further, a strange sound came from Tom. His mouth was moving, so she registered it as speech, but it sounded more like hissing. He was not even glancing her way, his eyes fixed on Grindelwald, but immediately the cobra stopped. It fell silent and turned to stare at Tom, before slithering across the snow and to him.

“Not very clever, Tom.” Grindelwald observed, a subtle smugness flickering in his eyes. “Exposing yourself as a Parselmouth to the girl you consider a risk.”

“I have no idea what you are referring to.” Tom responded with a level tone, firing another curse.

Riddle continued to cast dozens of curses and jinxes, none of them remotely making contact. Grindelwald looked vaguely amused, blocking everything, no matter how dark, with little effort.

Sensing an approaching climax, and one not good for Tom, Goldie reluctantly decided to intervene. Despite how he had treated her, she knew he was still the person currently closest to her. Therefore, she could not simply watch as Grindelwald destroyed him.

Cursing her morality, she focused on the dim light of nighttime, coming from the moon. Flooding it with her own magic, she forcibly transfigured it into massive shards of glass, hurling them downward onto Grindelwald. As expected, he easily shattered them as soon as he noticed, though a few miniature shards sliced through his exposed skin as they rained down.

“Really, Goldie?” He sighed. “Surely you know better.”

“Perhaps.” She mimicked. “Perhaps not.”

A slight flicker of annoyance flashes through the wizard’s expression, but she had no time to dwell as he fired a curse her way. She blocked it with little time to spare, Tom glancing at her at the brief action. In retaliation, she formed light into daggers, less easily broken. Grindelwald redirected their path to Tom, who in turn sidestepped them.

As he and Goldie both attacked the wizard from different angles, it made very little difference. Grindelwald was simply too good for them, though Goldie had expected no less. A man did not remain a dark lord for decades and then struggle to duel two teenagers.

Grindelwald would always be too good.

However, as she felt her reservoir of light magic growing low, Grindelwald’s gaze shifted to something behind them.

“Well.” He spoke up, holding a protective shield solid to prevent them attacking. “I must be on my way now.”

“Wh-” Goldie started, but before she could speak, Grindelwald vanished.

She stilled where she stood, breathing heavily. Tom made a disgruntled noise and pocketed his wand, fixing his posture.

“Why was here?” He demanded, turning to glare at her.

“How much did you hear?” She retorted. “And be honest. For once.”

“Hardly anything understandable.” Tom responded harshly, turning to face her.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted movement approaching. Ignoring whatever Tom was spouting angrily about, she turned around to face where Dumbledore was crossing the grounds.

She panicked.

They were outside severely past curfew, and the grass was badly charred where spells had been deflected. Clearly duelling outside of school hours. They had broken many school rules, and for Tom to be involved in that, he would never recover in terms of reputation.

Dumbledore already disliked him enough.

“Tom.” She hissed quietly. “Stop talking.”

“What?” Tom snapped in response. “You insolent girl-”

Not letting him finish speaking, she focused on him as a source of light, recalling how she had transfigured Dumbledore into a cat. Replicating the same process, she watched Tom shrink into a small python, sitting silently in the grass as he processed the sudden transformation.

“Keep quiet.” She ordered him as she picked his writhing form up off of the ground, dropping him into her pocket with her Swooping Evil. “I am saving you. Be grateful.”

Dumbledore arrived at the scene as she had Tom fully concealed, the man’s gaze full of concern.

“Miss McCulain.” He greeted. “Might I ask what happened?”

“Grindelwald was in the grounds, sir.” She explained, making her worries clear through her tense expression. “He tried to convince me to learn from him.”

Dumbledore’s demeanour hardened, his shoulders tensing. “...Oh dear. How did he take the rejection?”

“He attacked me. I tried to fight back, but...” She glanced with feigned sadness to the burnt ground. “...I was no match for him, evidently.”

“I was expect no more than that, Miss McCulain. Grindelwald is exceptionally talented.” He responded gravely, gesturing with his hand. “Come. Shall we return to the warmth and safety of the castle?”

She nodded, beginning to follow him back into Hogwarts. As Tom writhed and wriggled in her pocket, she ensured to summon his wand once Dumbledore’s back was turned. She placed it in another pocket, ensuring Tom was unable to turn himself back.

Not that he could anyway, having no arms.

Once they stepped into the castle, she sighed with relief at the sudden blast of warmth. It truly was cold.

“Whyever did you try to meet Grindelwald alone?” Dumbledore questioned as they stopped in a corridor.

She watched as he placed a privacy bubble before responding. “Instinctual, I think. I did not entirely mean to.”

“I do hope he had no alternative motive.” He mumbled thoughtfully. “Yet, knowing Grindelwald, he most certainly did.”

Goldie decided not to mention the rest of the conversation.

“Do I come find you should he appear again?” She queried.

“Yes.” He confirmed. “Do not approach Grindelwald alone. Ever.”

“I apologise for my recklessness, professor.” She mumbled, bowing her head slightly.

She knew she did not truly mean it, but she did not care.

“It’s alright, Miss McCulain.” Dumbledore sighed. “I simply urge you take more precautions in future. And not just in terms of Grindelwald.”

She nodded in understanding, and Dumbledore rushed off. She supposed he needed to inform staff of the unexpected visit from Grindelwald, and consider what to do from there.

Goldie also did not miss the slight implication at the end of his statement. Clearly, he was referring to Tom, and the disasters he often got her into. If only she had refused to go to Azkaban – then she would be a normal teenager living a normal school life.

Everything always seemed to lead back to Riddle. It unnerved her.

She sighed and began to make her way to Slytherin, yearning for the comfort of her house. Once she stepped through the giant metal snake above the doorway, she breathed an exhale of relief, feeling the familiar coolness of the common room extending up the stairs. She descended the spiralling stairs and passed the fountain, crossing the desolate common room and stood in the entrance to the boys' dormitories.

Hesitantly, she pulled the writhing form of Tom out of her pocket and entered the corridor for the boys' dormitories.

“Which is yours?” She asked him.

He hissed in response. As she stared at him, unimpressed, he eventually settled and stared at a particular door.

“Thank you.” She muttered.

Stepping into the dormitory, she immediately noticed the stark difference between the two beds. One was perfectly tidy, curtains tied neatly until they were needed. On the adjacent desk, the diadem sat in the open. The other bed was slightly messy, not fully made. The trunk was closed, yet unlatched.

She sat the serpent on the tidy bed and took a few steps back. Repeating the earlier process, she reversed her spell, staring at Tom as he returned to normal.

He returned the stare, clearly furious. However, despite his anger at her audacity, he had to admit that she had made a good decision. Preventing Dumbledore from seeing him had saved him from further suspicion and possible investigation from the man.

Getting angry at the girl would be of no use. For now.

“Why was Grindelwald here?” He chose to start with. “Was it about the book?”

“Yes.” She grumbled, then lied smoothly, “I told him the truth when he asked. It is in Albania.”

He sighed, standing up from the bed. Lifting the diadem, he inspected it.

“Did you bring that back before you followed me?” She questioned, stepping closer to examine it. “It is quite pretty.”

“Yes.” He murmured lowly, tracing a finger over the largest jewel. “I did. And yes, it is beautiful.”

She took note of his slightly tensed body language; his hidden irritation. The more she interacted with him, the more she understood him. A charming boy who befriended everyone, in truth a monstrous boy who had no true friends.

He turned and placed the diadem back onto his desk. As his back was turned, she took note of the darkness being emitted from the tiara. It felt familiar, now that she could sense it properly.

It felt like his soul did.

Before he turned back to her, she glanced to his trunk. She could feel the journal locked inside of it, reacting with the light breaching the trunk through a small hole in the side. It too felt like him.

It was the same darkness; the same way his own soul was dark.

Souls. Yes, she understood now.

“Tom.” She spoke up, acting on instinct.

He turned to gaze at her in question, furrowing his eyebrows when she stayed silent. “Yes?”

“…What are Horcruxes?”

Tom fell silent at the question, a large range of emotions flickering through his dark eyes are once. “A very dark form of magic. Why?”

“Grindelwald mentioned it.” She responded, enjoying the strike of panic she knew it instilled in him. “What kind of dark magic?”

“They contain a piece of a split soul.” He explained minimally, but it matched the definition Dumbledore had given her. “They provide immortality.”

“Seems strange.” She mused. “I have never heard of such achievements in magic.”

He did not respond, staring at her in silence. She returned the gaze, waiting for him to speak.

In his mind, he was already settling on a new plan. Now with two Horcruxes, he had begun his ascent to power. Already, he believed it was time for the third; it would benefit his future self if he achieved as many of his Horcruxes as possible before he left, meaning that he could focus on gaining control much earlier.

Without the aid of Rosier, he had postponed the rest of the Founder's relics for the time being. Instead, he was focusing on the more achievable ones, starting with the Gaunt family ring.

Tom had learned of its existence when researching Salazar Slytherin's locket. Apparently, Salazar had owned a unique crystal ring that he then passed down through his family, who over time became the Gaunts. Tom wanted the ring; he was the last remaining heir of the Gaunt family, and therefore, the ring was rightfully his.

“Goldie.” He began. “I need your help.”

The girl stared at him in disbelief.

“No.” She responded simply, turning and leaving the dormitory.

He reached and grabbed her wrist, not allowing her to leave yet.

“I need your help, Goldie.” He insisted. “I wish to track down my wizarding family, and I do not wish to go alone.”

“Shall we consider what happened when I last helped you, Tom?” She drawled, unimpressed. “I would much rather not find myself being choked again.”

“Do you want me to apologize?” He questioned scornfully.

She nodded, watching him expectantly. “Yes. I would.”

“No.”

Goldie scoffed in disbelief, pulling her wrist out of his grip. “Seriously, Tom? I am not going to help you.”

“Please.” He stated dryly, the best attempt at begging that he could muster. “I will not lash out again. That was a mistake on my part.”

“I suppose that is the best apology I am going to get?” She sighed.

“Yes.”

Her eye twitched at his ridiculously nonchalant response. Taking note of his apparent lack of anger, she sighed once again. “When exactly do you plan on acting out this plan? And what is the plan?”

“I want to retrieve a family heirloom from the Gaunt estate.” He stated dryly. “They are all dead. All I need to do is find the ring.”

The plan seemed okay, so she let him continue.

“We will receive a free day during our mock exams at the end of January.” He elaborated. “We will go then. You will help, I assume?”

“Bold assumption.” She grumbled.

Tom scoffed. “You will help. There is nothing dangerous this time.”

“As if I was pre-warned about your murder attempt.” She spat.

He rolled his eyes. “That was hardly a murder attempt. If I wanted you dead, you would be dead.”

Goldie turned to exit his dormitory, stopping at the door as she had a thought.

“You said you are a descendant of Salazar Slytherin.” She mused, turning to gaze at him. “Is that why you can speak to snakes?”

“Yes. It is.” Tom replied simply, recalling the accidental display of Parseltongue when he had saved her from his lethal spell.

“…So you are the Heir of Slytherin.” She concluded, huffing a small laugh. “I suppose that makes sense.”

His mouth twitched in concealed irritation as she then left his dormitory.

She was so aggravating.

Once her footsteps vanished, he turned and picked up his Horcrux. The diadem pulsated slightly in his grip, his soul inside of it reacting to his touch.

How did she know?

Did she know?

According to her, Grindelwald had mentioned them. The only reason Grindelwald would have spoken of Horcruxes is if he had been conversing about Tom to Goldie. That was a concerning thought; what else had he said that she had not admitted.

He needed to discern that. He could not have her unravelling his plans die to her unbridled curiosity.

Her curiosity was dangerous, to both of them.

He was going to kill her, someday. Perhaps for his last Horcrux. Her murder would decorate a Horcrux nicely.

For now, he needed to play nicely. He had threatened her once already, after all. Time was needed before he did so again, to ensure that the threat remained real in her mind. That way, she would subconsciously fall to his whims.

She already was.

Chuckling to himself at the thought, he placed his diadem into the trunk with his journal and applied a powerful locking charm to it, powered by dark magic.

His Horcruxes were safe. He always ensured that.

They were protected, and would always remain in his hands.

In time, he would become unbeatable.

He would be Lord Voldemort.