Catharsis [Tom Riddle]

Chapter Eight

"No... there is absolutely no way," Avalon whispered, earning a raised brow from Zelda.

"What? You don't think that Merrythought could take Dumbledore in a fight?" her roommate asked, keeping her voice low. They both glanced at their Transfiguration Professor, who was busy wrapping up their class as they discussed in the back.

"Of course not. I mean-"

"Miss Hendrix, Miss Shacklebolt, if you could keep your conversations to a minimum for only a few more moments of time, class will be ending shortly," Dumbledore said, instantly earning a 'Sorry, Professor,' from both of them.

Avalon's eyes trailed over to Riddle, Rosier, and Lestrange, who were all sitting at a table a few rows in front of her and Zelda.

Several days had passed since Avalon and Tom had been together in the Room of Requirement. She couldn't even count how many times she had replayed their conversation in her mind. The question of whether or not Tom Riddle would be afraid or proud of what he would one day become had floated in her mind on several occasions, yet she now had her answer-- he wanted that life more than anything else. To be feared was seductive to him, power was a temptation, and he lusted for control.

Dumbledore was wrong: not all wizards could be saved and not all wizards deserved to be understood. Some were simply beyond salvation, and Tom Riddle was one of them.

Her wrist still bore bruises from where his fingers had dug into her skin, leaving litters of purple pain along her wrist as a reminder of where his angry touch had lingered.

The two of them had not been alone together since that incident. Anytime their eyes locked for a brief moment in time, an unspoken tension between them caused her to avert her gaze quickly every single time. She actually had barely seen any of the Slytherin boys in the last few days. Lestrange ate dinner with her the night prior, but aside from that, she had tried to avoid them all for a while to clear her mind. After waking up in Lestrange's bed, she needed to take time to herself to think about her purpose, her goals, and what was at stake. She could not allow herself to become side-tracked from her mission.

She had lost hope in believing she would be able to learn about the Horcruxes through becoming one of Riddle's allies. The two were on a path of mutual destruction, and she knew she'd have to find another means of getting the information she desired: Lestrange seemed to be her best option, for the time being.

He was difficult to pry information out of, however. Every time she brought Riddle up in conversation, he quickly averted the discussion towards another path. It was as though he was purposely covering for his friend, and that only confirmed her belief that he knew much more than he let on.

Class ended shortly after, and Lestrange approached her, giving Zelda a brief nod before he turned his full attention to Avalon. "Are you excited for tonight, darling?"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing over quizzically at Zelda who shrugged. "What's tonight?"

He fake gasped, pressing a hand to his chest as he feigned hurt. "What's tonight? You mean to tell me you've forgotten?"

"Out with it, Lestrange, I don't have all day," she said, rolling her eyes.

"It's time for you to make your Slug Club debut," he grinned. "You promised to accompany me last week during detention. You don't strike me as a liar."

She let out a groan, burying her head in her hands. The fact that she had mentioned accompanying him to the next dinner party had escaped her mind, and she suddenly found herself regretting the promise. "Xavier, I wasn't serious-"

"No, no, it's much too late for any excuses," he said dismissively. "I already bought you a dress. It's on your bed. I'll see you at the bottom of Ravenclaw Tower at 8."