Loyal | Tom Riddle

16: The Quidditch Match

Before Arabella Travers had returned to consciousness, Hogwarts had been calm. Students had been working on their homework, focused on the ingredients of Draught of Living Death or the proper way to conjure flowers out of midair. Silence reverberated in the halls, a reflection of the harried studying being done for the upcoming midterms.

The tranquil atmosphere was shattered into a thousand pieces by her scream.

Even in the far reaches of Ravenclaw Tower and the dungeons beneath the castle, a faint ringing sound could be heard, disrupting the earnest concentration of sixth-years hunched over dusty books in the library.

In the infirmary, her scream echoed off the stone floors and ceiling, restarting every time it ended so that it was one haunting, continuous sound.

The three boys at the foot of her bed each wore a different expression: deep concern, utter indifference, and sheer terror.

Madam Goodfellow came running out of her office, looking rather like the contents of a marmalade pitcher as she wobbled over to the bed.

"What have you three done to Miss Travers?" she demanded sharply, her face an angry shade of crimson.

"Nothing, Madam," Tom replied smoothly, meeting Arabella's eyes with a dark, knowing glint. "I suppose she must have had some bad dreams."

She stared at him like a deer caught in the headlights, wary of the creeping fear that suddenly gripped her heart with a cold hand. His face was carefully constructed into a mask of detachment, giving nothing away -- but it was his eyes that were brimming with his true intentions, a forbidden oasis of darkness that not even the bravest of souls would dare dive into.

"I'm going to have to ask you lot to leave," Madam Goodfellow said sternly with her hands on her hips, lips pursed. "Run along, now."

Riddle pasted his charming smile onto his face. "We've just been waiting for her to wake up, Madam. As good friends of hers, we can't leave."

The nurse's skeptical face softened, especially when her eyes skimmed over Abraxas. "Oh, alright," she sighed. "But only for ten minutes."

"Thank you very much," Tom said warmly, which was very odd for someone as cold as he usually was. "I'm sure she'll be at full health in no time at all, thanks to your attentive care."

Arabella watched with intrigue as Madam Goodfellow smiled and nodded, returning to her office in considerably higher spirits than when she had first left it.

The way he manipulated people -- something she had never noticed before -- was astounding, almost effortless, as if it was second nature to him. The thought shook her to her core. This was the boy with whom Nikolai regularly associated himself with, and for the first time, Arabella realised that it probably wasn't willingly. She'd always seen that rueful light in his eyes, the one that apologised for his actions before he carried them out robotically.

And for a second, everything came together in her head, forming a disturbing picture so clearly in her mind that it was difficult not to show any trace of emotion while those cruel eyes lingered on her. Yet she couldn't help but feel that some piece of the puzzle was missing, that there was a part of the riddle she had overlooked.

"Congratulations," Tom Riddle said, as if sensing her thoughts. "You've figured things out."

Arabella startled in her hospital bed, trying to scoot as far away from him as she could manage. Her pleading glances to both Nikolai and Malfoy were met with stone faces on either side of where their Lord stood.

"I was wondering how long it would take you," he mused aloud, studying her as her chest rise and fell rapidly. "There's no need to be afraid, Arabella. Like I told Madam Goodfellow, we're all friends here."