deceived | tom marvolo riddle

VI | tom riddle

I hoped that there wasn't going to be any blood spilled. Preferably not my own.

--

I had barely even slept a wink that night.

All my dreams were the repeating scene of my mother being tortured. That terrible memory, over and over again. I'd had it since I was five. It was the same as it had always been then, my father begging the Dark Lord to leave my mother out of it. She did nothing wrong to him or his name. He didn't want to listen, he said it was the best punishment for failing him. That God awful flash of blood red from the cruciatus curse. My mother screaming. She had been so loud.

It played over and over again. But in this dream, unlike the original memory's nightmares, the Dark Lord wasn't his snake like self. No. He had dark, waved hair and lake blue eyes. These eyes that I don't know why I keep thinking of.

Another even more displeasing difference was that instead of him being slightly amused and dare I say bored by the monstrous actions as I knew he had really been, he had become overly entertained by my father's screams and begs for my mother's mercy, and the crying of the infant form of myself. He had just simply adored it.

When morning had finally arrived, I rushed to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, trying to wake myself up in front of the snake encrusted mirror. I couldn't possibly be this fearful and affected by Tom Riddle in the only two days through. I wasn't this cowardly.

My fingers traced over my time turner anxiously, which now appeared as an ordinary golden chained necklace with a little sand clock charm at the end. Thankfully, to any eye, it seems perfectly normal.

Exhausted and utterly sleep deprived, I stumbled down the many corridors to the Great Hall and was immediately made better, yet only slightly, as the wonderful scent of pancakes and bacon filled my head, a way better wake up call than freezing cold water.

My eyes searched desperately across the room for Myrtle, knowing that I had to apologize for not meeting up with her after class like I had promised her.

The Malfoy boy, Abraxas, had worn me out since he had decided that he would give me an entire tour of Hogwarts. Sure it was sweet and from the right place, but if I was being completely honest, I would have skipped the hours of terrible flirting and bragging.

I eventually had found Myrtle sitting at the Ravenclaw table with her nose in her homework and a stack of pancakes beside her. I gave her a hungry look (well, her book's cover) as I sat down on the wooden bench across from her, beginning to fill my plate full with eggs and sausages.

She put her book down at hearing me and shoved it into her bag as she began on her pancakes that dripped deliciously with melted butter and syrup, "Where were you yesterday?" She was seemingly pretty upset, as I predicted.

I attempted to quickly swallowed my eggs, only leading me to choke on them and inhale my water. Myrtle mumbled something at me with her wand and I immediately felt better, "Er, thanks."

"I had thought you wanted to make a joke out of me.."

I shook my head vigorously, "No, not at all! Abraxas Malfoy just decided to give me an extremely dragged on tour of the school, that's all really. I'm truly sorry, Myrtle,"

She shrugged, putting another cut pancake piece in her mouth, "That's fine if you like Malfoy as long as you tell him off for teasing me. He says some really hurtful things you know. About my blood and my glasses."

"Nothing happened like that, Myrtle. He just did it to be polite-"

"Abraxas? Polite? Hmph," Myrtle sliced some of a big piece, "Anyways, you look tired. Do you want me to find a spell or something to help you sleep? I'm pretty good at those, or I think I may be..."