Solving Riddles

Crossroads

DISCLAIMER: I, no, I totally own HP.

Tom had seen some bad things in his life- murder and deception. He'd done some bad things in his life- more murder and deception. He'd regretted none of it; he would've done it all again and more of he'd been given the chance, but now the sight before him and the task at hand was too much for him.

"Why?" He asked, turning to face the cloaked man that he'd come to hate more than he ever thought he could, yet somehow respected.

"We need to send a message to the public, we need those inferior to us to notice just how much more powerful we are, how much we can do to destroy them. And of course, to prove your loya-"

"Don't give me that loyalty shit! I've proven enough, I've joined you, you've marked me, I go by everything you say. Isn't that enough?"

"No, child, no it is not enough," the cloak man sighed and took a step towards Tom, "you will be forever proving your loyalty to me. You will do as I say, work in silence, you will die for me, Riddle, and I'll still doubt your loyalty. So shut that mouth of yours and get to work," the man finished and picked up a bat from the ground, holding it out to Tom. "Make it messy," he grinned as Tom reluctantly took the bat and walked over to the other side of the room.

Tom took a deep breath and the stench of blood and grime hit the back of his throat, so he closed his eyes, but the sight of the woman tied to a chair, half naked and crying at the loss of her child was burned into his brain. He swung the bat onto his shoulder and the woman whimpered at his sudden movement. He let out a shaky breath and opened his eyes to look into her doe like ones- eyes that reminded him of someone he hadn't thought about in a while, someone he missed. He wrapped his fingers firmly around the bat, and without another second of hesitation he swung. A scream echoed throughout the cellar. He swung again and again, until the only sound that remained was the sound of the bat whacking against her broken skull and the drip drip of her blood dripping onto the floor.

He dropped the bat and turned to face the cloaked man, not bothering to wipe the blood away from his face. His long hair fell in his face in bloodied strands as he walked over to the man. "Are you satisfied?" He asked.

The man didn't say anything, instead he just smiled and walked up the cellar steps, gesturing at Tom to follow him.

XXX

Alexander sat in his room, awaiting his father's response to his letter. Maybe he didn't read it. He didn't have a reason to doubt that, but he hoped otherwise. He closed his eyes and fingered his newly cut locks, he missed being able to shield his eyes with his hair, but he supposed it looked alright on him. Dorothy said it made his eyes sparkle, which reminded him of how much he hated his eyes, they were just like his father's: blue and so icy nobody ever really wanted to look into them.

As a kid he'd used to sit in front of a mirror for hours on end with his eyes shut so tight he'd see stars, and hope that when he opened them they'd be a different colour, it never worked.

He was thankful that he looked like his mother for the most part, he had her soft face and sharp features, her curly brunette hair, her dimples. He'd never really known her, she'd died under mysterious circumstances when he was three, but he could still remember exactly what she looked like, down to the last freckle on her nose. Sometimes he wished she had killed his father instead of it being vice versa- of course he had killed her, no one dies of drowning in a bathtub by themselves- he believed his life would've been better that way.

Alexander looked up as there was a knock on his door, he didn't have to bother with saying "come in", she was going to anyway. He opened his eyes and sighed, leaning back further in his chair as Dorothy entered the room.