A Story of a Short Ending | T.R

Chapter 44 - The Paranormal

Run On - Jamie Bower, King Sugar

Emily's new task gave her hope, dreams, and, most importantly, plans. She was not dumb; she knew Dumbledore was a man who could backtrack on his word and leave her with nothing after she completed the task. For that reason, she decided to take the necessary precautions and use the loophole her mind had come up with just as she vanished from Dumbledore's office.

He mentioned that he needed her to remove " them." Who were "they"? His language gave her space for imagination and improvisation, which she gladly used. Her plan didn't involve the women, as even after the last failure, she still believed enough humanity remained in them to see the truth and turn their backs on Tom.

So while she slowly worked on a plan for the way she was going to deal with the men of the Manor, another plan brewed in her mind on what to do so the women listened. They already led her into a trap once, but even after that, she didn't lose hope to once have them on her side leaving Riddle all alone.

She sat in the hut she now called her base, she would never call it a home, as her home burned down to the ground when Riddle and his sheep came after her. It wasn't much of a trouble, it simply fuelled her desire to take him down and have the women all for herself.

Her years in the Manor that she spent as a prisoner in a portrait paid off to her plan now. She knew the approximate layout of the Manor and even if she couldn't count in all the secret passages and the floor she had never been on, she knew most of it. She couldn't move and talk but she still had her eyes when they carried her portrait up to the gallery. She did infiltrate Laion's bedroom at one point, giving her the eyes from the outside.

A bare table stood in the room in front of her, mere candles still burned around her, casting the dim light onto her face. She looked focused, her skin glinting in the light as her hair gently swayed in the air. There was no wind and yet her hair glid in the air as if she was standing in the breeze. Her hand was reached out in front of her, her fingers flexed. The magic flowed through her skin, her veins and the fibres of her body. The little light moved through her arm before finally dipping onto the table, which in her mind was a map of the Manor. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and began.

Meanwhile, the Manor was quiet. The Death Eaters and the women were out of the Manor for the night, their schedule of paid havoc wrecking was uncompromising, sending them to work night after night.

Only Riddle and a couple of the house elves remained inside. The house elves worked themselves in the kitchen, as some of the Manor inhabitants tended to get furiously hungry after a night of terrorising people. The slight hum of the elves, soup bubbling on the stove and chopping of the knives on wooden boards were the only sounds in the entire Manor as Riddle stayed silent.

He sat in his beloved study, a place he rarely left and only when he needed he allowed someone to enter. His work desk was neatly organised and even a pile of discarded parchment was impressively straight. He loved order so that everything including his desk was in pristine condition. Yet, his mind was far from that and he tended to hate that.

Dumbledore was after him, which wasn't a surprise. The old bastard was on his tail since the early years of Hogwarts if not before. Yet now the old man got too brave, sending the Order to poison his Death Eaters stepped over the line they managed to keep between themselves for years. Even right now, destroying his Order piece by piece, human by human, he never stepped over the line of threatening their lives.

This was a rare occasion that Riddle found himself considering Lestrange's words. Dumbledore seemed to be ready for the pushback that would come with him killing the Death Eaters and either he was a stupid fool or he didn't deem the women a threat dangerous enough to come after him. The thought of this sent Riddle thinking.