Lost | Tom Riddle ✔

Chapter 58

This chapter is dedicated to all those beautiful readers who encouraged me through their kind words.

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          Though wondering the halls of the castle at nights was Tom's one of the favourite things to do, helping some strolling damsels wasn't. Those who couldn't look after themselves were not the people he wanted to associate himself with. However, he could understand the motive of some of them very well. Hogwarts was his home and taking the strolls alone made everything even more personal. He ran his hands on the stones of the walls of that old corridor. His long, pale fingers running across every non-existing imperfection. The coldness of those black rocks gave him the warmth that no place had ever given him all his life.

          Tom was never the one to follow the rules of someone else. He followed his own and broke others', but he knew how to be discrete. Being a Prefect had its perks. One could roam the castle alone at the nights without worrying about getting caught, and giving a penalty to those who were not you for doing the same was one of them. The sense of power was encouraging, but not satisfying. He wanted more. Way more than being a damn Prefect. He remembered how painful it was for him to not be able to wander around during his first two years. Besides learning about the magical world and its prejudices, his magic was very naive back then. The stuff his professors used to teach during those years was also very basic. And he was too impatient to synchronize himself with their speed. That's the reason, he took it upon himself to look into advanced magic. He was a star student. He had a reputation. He recalled how anxious he was in his third year when he first stepped out of his room on one such night. He never wanted to do this under Disillusionment charm. Hogwarts was his home and who roamed its home in the fear of getting caught? He wanted to explore the castle, find its secrets. Mysteries always intrigued him. Kept him fascinated. Maybe this was the reason why he found Alexa enticing.

          Though he himself wasn't aware of this detail, she had kept him entertained since the day one. A shiver ran through his body when her vibrant violet eyes flashed in his mind. Though she was overall average in the department of looks, her eyes told a completely different tale.

          Tom remembered how they glowed when her emotions got better of her mind. And to his honour, it generally happened in his presence alone. He wanted to stand proud and pat his chest like some victorious knight. Like he had just made the biggest discovery in the world. Though she covered herself in clothes way bigger than her size, he had noticed her eyes unleashed the potential she had. The power from being metamorphmagus and a part werewolf was something Tom would envy. She had a base to become powerful and maybe he would be the one to unlock everything eventually. He would really love to not waste so much potential. However, he would make sure he was her mentor. He would make sure that the reins of the threads to control her actions were always in his palms. And maybe this won't be hard. Considering she was head over heels for him already.

          You are more handsome when you are angry.

           A smile graced those sinful lips.

           more handsome

            He was more handsome.

             It wasn't some riddle to know she felt that he was handsome in general. And more whenever angry. And surprisingly, Tom decided that he would love to rub it in her face whenever he got the chance. Not to brag or anything, but he knew people, especially girls around his age, thought that he was handsome. He was not the one to give importance to looks. He would trade his looks for power any day, but Salazar! Somehow, it felt awesome to know that she considered him handsome. How naive was she to let it slip on his face, he wondered. It felt nice to know that she was attracted to him. It felt wonderful to know he affected her as much as or even more than how she affected him. Though he wasn't into the cliche feelings, he knew she had some control over him, especially his body. And he hated how much he enjoyed it. How much he craved their intimacy. Was it because he never paid attention to his hormones before? That is it, his mind confirmed to preserve its sanity.

           Death.

            He shivered as he heard a whisper. He looked around. Who said that? Was it someone's lame idea of a joke, to scare him using his ultimate fear? If yes, they were going to be punished. That too very severely.

           "Who is there?" Tom pointed his wand out, circling to detect any trace of life.

            I smell so much mud, but I can't clean.

           "Who is there?" Tom bellowed angrily. By now, he suspected that the voice came from the other side of the wall. He pressed his left ear to those ancient walls. His wand was still clutched in his right palm. His eyes widened when he heard it again.

          Death. Blood. Flesh.

           I want something new and fresh.

           The voice, this time, was fading. It was like the speaker was going away. Tom didn't want to end the conversation now. Not when he was confused as hell. His feet carried him absently as he continued to listen to the wall.

         "Riddle? What are you doing here?"

          Tom looked up to see it was Myrtle Warren. Pathetic little mud-blood! What a waste to be a Ravenclaw, he contemplated. It was not the company he wanted. Not now. Not ever. He scrunched his nose. From her appearance, he could tell she was bawling her eyes again. Her face was flustered. He didn't know whether this was from crying or from the anticipation of being caught. Tom looked behind her to see it was a Girls' lavatory on the second floor.

          "Better yet, what are you doing here?" His voice gave away his annoyance. After all, he was stopped from chasing what he wanted. "Leave Warren if you don't want to make Ravenclaw lose some points."

          At this, the bullied girl got even more embarrassed and left the scene as soon as she could. Tom didn't even spare a look in her direction. By now, he knew whoever was the speaker was long gone.

           However, now that Tom was composed a little, he finally noticed the language wasn't English. It was his tongue. It was the tongue only his ancestors knew. It was the language of snakes.

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So... Basilisk enters the scene. What do you think? In this chapter, I tried to give Tom's thought process without changing his original character. Did you notice Tom does value Alexa, in his own twisted way that is? I hope I didn't modify him too much, and that you liked this chapter. I am not sure how Tom finds out about Basilisk, so I will try to give justice to the scenes as much as I can.

Maybe it is just me, but I can't imagine anyone but Christian Coulson in the role of Tom Riddle. Why? Oh! Why did WB not cast him again? And don't even tell me it was because of age and all. There is something called the make-up. And actors use it all the time.

Anyway, many people asked me about face-claim for Alexa. It is up to your imagination, friends. Imagine whoever you want with the physical description in the story.

Please keep me motivated through your votes and sharing this story with your friends. Let me know what do you think of this story. Your support brightens up my mood during the days which are occupied by the work in the college.

Thank you all!!!