The Fearsome Name of Riddle

Child Soldier

A long table like the Malfoy's had created dramatic separation between them at meal times. When it was just the boys and their mother, they could ignore the rest of the matte black, pine wood table, but Tom Riddle had taken to joining his family more often. He made himself present, in Victoria's eyeline so that she could not ignore him. He held Death Eater meetings in the Manor. He made sure that Victoria was consulted on big decisions and treated like his second in command. So, as he sat at the head of the table, directly opposite to her, Tom Riddle made them all feel the true length of the room. 

Lucius shuffled uncomfortably in his seat beside his mother, his eyes glancing up at her in the silence of the room before snapping back down to his plate. His hand flexed and his sleeve slid down as he fidgeted. Victoria barely glanced at him. Her hand rested on the table between them as the four of them sat in the deafening silence. When he found the courage to meet his mother's eyes again, her glare made his heart race and skin feel cold. She wasn't looking at his face. Her eyes were trained on his sleeve, or rather the black edge of the skull poking out of it. 

Victoria felt sick. Her gaze snapped up to her husband at the end of the table. Tom avoided her for once. Her baby. Her angel boy had sworn himself a soldier in a war that took far more life than it granted. 

“How could you?” Victoria said quietly, feeling her anger rip through her veins like molten rock. 

Octavian lifted his head from his plate. His dark eyes widened and looked around at them confused. 

“How could I what?” Tom asked, lifting his head stiffly with a brief glance to Lucius. 

“You know damn well what.” Victoria stood sharply, the scrape of her chair echoing off the hall. 

“Victoria—”

“Mother,” Lucius tried, his voice not quite reaching the steady confidence that he wanted it to. “I wanted it.”

“No, you didn't.” His mother snapped at him, dismissing him completely and turning back to his father. “You promised not to hurt them.”

“I haven't.” Tom argued, staying as he was in his seat. 

“You put dark magic in his arm!” Victoria shouted at him, stepping around Lucius’ chair to get further down the table. 

“Mother.” Lucius raised his voice as he stood, thinking that volume might equal confidence. He wanted her to see that he could be a man and a worthy heir, but all she saw was her baby. “I made the decision myself. I thought you would be happy.”

A cold sweat stuck to the palms of Lucius's hands, his eyes firmly on her face. His hands trembled. She looked furious. She was furious.  

"Happy?" Victoria scoffed, flicking her hand at him until he passed her his left arm. "Do you even know what this is?" 

She raked up his sleeve, making him wince as her fingernails dragged over his freshly marked skin. It ached like an open wound. A surface graze on the skin that bruised deep down beneath. 

"I do know what it is," Lucius argued, tugging his arm back but his mother would not let her iron grip go. 

"No, you don't." Victoria snapped, pressing her thumb into the dark mark on his arm before throwing it back at him. "You have no idea what that means. What it requires of you." 

"He made his own choice, Victoria," Tom sighed from across the room. "He's seventeen now—" 

"You don't get to speak!" Victoria shouted over him, making her youngest boy flinch and sink into his chair. "He's just a boy. He's not a soldier for your army."