Perception A Tom Marvolo Riddle Fanfiction completed

Chapter Four - Suspicion

Tom walked quickly, his mind racing. He could sense the dark magic of the curse that had hit Cassiopeia. He instinctively knew that this was powerful magic. He was almost certain that Madam Malcolm wouldn't be able to deal with a curse like that because, after all, she normally only had to cure injuries that tended to occur at school. That implied that she usually wasn't required to counteract offensive Dark Magic. As much as he hated to admit it, he was sure that if there was anyone who could help Cassiopeia, it was Dumbledore. He pressed his lips together and quickly carried her to Dumbledore's quarters.

When he arrived there, he exhaled sharply, shortly wondering whether there really was no other option, before he finally knocked on the door. After a moment Dumbledore opened the door, and a look of alarm crossed his face when his gaze fell on Cassiopeia's limp body in Tom's arms. Dumbledore immediately took her from Tom's arms and carried her to the sofa.

He carefully laid her on the cushions before he turned to face Tom again. "What happened to her?" he inquired, his voice full of suspicion.

Instinctively Tom arranged his features into an expression of pure innocence. His voice was calm and even when he replied, "We were on prefect duty patrolling the ground floor when we saw an open door, sir. We went outside to check, and then someone attacked us. She was hit by a curse. I tried to defend us, and the attacker disappeared." Tom's voice trailed away, and he realized how implausible his story sounded. He suppressed a scowl. For once, he was actually telling Dumbledore the truth, and it turned out to be more unconvincing than his worst lie could ever have been.

Obviously Dumbledore didn't think much of the story either. He slightly raised an eyebrow and scrutinized Tom's face carefully. Then he held out his hand and said with a firm voice, "Show me your wand, Tom."

Tom tensed and felt his temper flare. He glowered at the older wizard and snorted, "You're wasting valuable time. It's not me who did this."

Only to himself, in his mind, he added venomously, 'Even you should know that if it had been me, I surely wouldn't have come to you, and certainly nobody would ever have found her. And at least I would have made up a much better story.'

But Dumbledore didn't waver, his hand still prompting Tom to hand over his wand. "Your wand, Tom."

For a second Tom stared at Dumbledore's outstretched hand, thinking how much he hated that suspicious fool, how much he hated having to ask him, of all people, for help. Then he gritted his teeth and reluctantly pulled his wand from his pocket. He thrust it into Dumbledore's hand and hissed, "If you insist, then check it, but just go ahead and help her." His eyes flickered towards Cassiopeia. His voice was barely audible when he added, "Please."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow and thoughtfully looked at the wand in his hand. Then he laid it on his desk and took his own wand, examining Cassiopeia closely.

Tom stood there, staring at the man he hated most of all, his mind completely blank. He watched Dumbledore try different spells, repeatedly trying to feel Cassiopeia's pulse and listening out intently for any sign of breathing.

Dumbledore had seen curses like this before. They were advanced Dark Magic. They interrupted all vital signs of the victim. Breaking them required the true desire to remove the curse. Unfortunately, this curse seemed to be somewhat different because although Dumbledore definitely had the true desire to remove the curse, it didn't work. Dumbledore frowned.

Seeing this Tom slightly raised his eyebrows. He felt his magic running through his veins, pulsing steadily and reassuringly but also burning with an intensity he had never known before. He felt his temper flare again. He wanted Dumbledore to act at last, to make her breathe again, to make her bloody heart beat again. He wanted to find whoever had done this and rip them into pieces. He wanted to see the person responsible being burnt to death by this fire that was raging inside his veins. He wanted to make them pay.