The Gold Puppet

Disclaimer: Santa Claus failed to give us Tom last year, while we'd been such good girls. *Glares at roaring with laughter readers* Fine, fine, then ... he should have sent Tom to ... punish us for not being good. Yes! *Is relieved to have found the solution* But noooo, no Tom. *sobs* So, we still own NOTHING from the Potterverse and we get no money for writing this magnificent piece of Nobel prize-worthy literature.

By: Serpent In Red and Nerys

A/N: We want to thank all those for reviewing. They are the only payment we get, so kudos to you all: Lady Miya and JaceDamian23.

Warnings: HJ, Oral, Dom, "Bond", dubious consent.

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Special thanks to Lady Miya for looking over this chapter with a pair of fresh eyes. That was useful advice you gave us. We knew something was off in this chapter, but just couldn't put our finger on it.
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The Gold Puppet

Chapter 12

Hermione stood in the middle of the living room, glancing around nervously before finally allowing her eyes to land on him. He gave her an amiable smile, which she returned with a weak one of her own.

"Nice flat," she said politely and stared back at her hands which were now fidgeting nervously deliberately.

She knew she had to make it look good in order for him to buy it. Besides, she really was somewhat nervous about what she was planning to do. So many things could go wrong. However, she'd reached this decision last night, while tossing and turning in her bed over everything that had happened the previous day. She'd been such a fool, but she wouldn't let any man get the better of her ever again. From now on, she'd take control of the situation—not the other way around. And if people didn't like it, well, they could just drop dead for all she cared. Ron Weasley first.

Tom shrugged. "I suppose," he replied humbly, waiting for her to continue, which she didn't. So he added, hiding his impatience fabulously, "How did you know where I lived? I sold my family's mansion."

"I have friends at the Ministry," she grinned. "They told me your address. Sorry, hope you don't mind...?" Her eyes darted to his ruined dresser.

No way, Tom thought, alarmed.

"Is something the matter?" he asked, drawing her attention away from the illegal potion-stained dresser, while placing his raincoat plus cup back in the cupboard next to the front door, as he watched her with concern plastered on his face.

He'd hidden his wand back in its holster at his arm, where he could easily draw it if necessary, but so far so good. No Aurors and certainly no Potter in sight. He really doubted the great Harry Potter would let his friend enter his flat alone if he thought Seth was Lord Voldemort.

So, Tom relaxed but only slightly. After all, Granger was devious and concerned enough for the insipid boy's safety to have only alerted the authorities, and they would have no problem allowing the Mudblood to enter on her own. He took in her uncertain demeanour, trying to ascertain whether or not she figured out the truth.

She nibbled her lower lip, while a frown found its place on her forehead. He took a step towards her, and she glanced at him, uncertainty shining through her eyes. Now or later?

He wasn't close enough—later.

Tom raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to open her mouth and talk.

He found this extremely odd, since her Horcrux self hadn't been able to shut itself up at all. For her to be speechless ... unless it was about what happened at the pub. He almost smirked, but caught himself, remembering that the witch stood right in front him.

She took another few peeks at him before she heaved a sigh. Did he have to stay a million miles away? Perhaps if she delivered her news first?

He chuckled, "You're making me worried. Should I expect horrid news?"

"I'm going to Australia today," she blurted out, taking him by shock.

He quickly recovered, though he kept the stunned expression, just so he could analyse what unfolded in front of him without the need to say something. Why was she travelling to Australia? Was it just a ploy to make him lower his guards? Before he could think further, the answers were supplied to him by Hermione.

"My parents ... well, you know about how I've gone on a ... well, hunt, with Harry last year," Hermione started to say, eyeing him to make sure he was keeping up.

He nodded briefly and motioned for her to continue.

"We were looking for Voldemort's Horcruxes—I'm not sure if you know what they are ... You probably do, since you enjoy reading so much, but then again, they're really objects of the Dark Arts, and many of the tomes that include information about them are illegal..."

He kept a look of interest on his face while she prattled on about what he had already known. Although he had to admit that some pieces of what she was telling him were interesting after all. Somehow, that stupid Horcrux had concealed the information about her parents from him, even when he performed Legilimency on it. It was certainly useful to gain this knowledge. He couldn't wait to see the cup's reaction later, now that he had something to hold over her head.

"... Hogwarts next week, I thought I should visit them, even if they no longer remember me," she finished—a bit annoyed he hadn't come closer. Surely, propriety demanded of him to comfort her with her dreadful news. She'd never get a shot at it if he kept her at arm's length like this.

"I see," he answered, a sympathetic expression sliding onto his face. "I understand how you feel, since..." he trailed off, and Hermione stared at him, her eyes wider than usual. He turned around so that he faced away from her, allowing her to believe that he was upset about remembering his dead "family".

"I'm sorry," she apologised softly. "I didn't mean to make you remember..."

"It's not your fault," he replied, turning around slowly, his face properly melancholic. A few moments of silence passed between them. "You've mentioned that you've cast the Memory Charm on them, have you not?"

She nodded, glancing at him curiously.

"Have you asked anyone at St. Mungo's in regards to how to reverse the effects of the charm?" he asked.

"There is no way to reverse the effects. It's why I chose it." She shook her head, pain and regret clearly visible on her features. "I've read up on them beforehand. I ... I didn't think there was a chance for Harry to defeat Voldemort. It seemed so ... impossible. Have you seen how he performed magic? Lord Voldemort, I mean. Harry..."—she groaned in frustration—"Harry's an excellent wizard, but ... but..."

She buried her face in her hands, so she missed the triumphant glint that passed through Tom's eyes upon hearing her words. So ... at least the little Mudblood was intelligent enough to see who was the better wizard between the two of them. That made him think slightly higher of her.

She dropped her hands, and he promptly put on an attentive look again.

"Thank Merlin he chose the wrong curse though," she commented, rolling her eyes. "You would think that after firing the Killing Curse at Harry for three times and it backfiring on him for three times, the git would've learnt to use something different. It's pretty obvious to anyone with half of a brain that it's not going to work. I mean, come on." She giggled. "Well, maybe he did get his brains fried in the cauldron during his resurrection, or,"—she tilted her head—, "maybe Pettigrew did mess up on the potion." With that said, she broke down into a round of laughter.

Tom gawked at her, not knowing how he should react. On the one hand, his hand twitched to reach for his wand and hex the hell out of the little wench. On the other hand ... as much as he hated to do so, he had to admit that she did have a point. But to hear it from her mouth...

"There might be a way to recover their memories," he said coolly, in an attempt to break off her annoying laughter, and naturally, it worked like a charm, since it concerned her parents.

"Healer Lewis told me about it already," she nodded, sighing again, "but he said that it would only recover the memories that they've shared with me. But the things that happened when I was not around them..."

"I'm not talking about that way," he gave her a faint smile.

"But ... but there is no other way. It's impossible," she said softly, shaking her head from side to side, a bit thrown off by what he seemed to suggest. "Healer Lewis—"

"—is a psychologist Healer, which of course means that he has limited knowledge about other fields," he finished her sentence. "He's excellent with patients who had traumatic experiences, but memory issues are not his forte."

"I ... You ... But ... You're not joking with me, are you?" she asked, clutching to her chest with her hand, a look of disbelief and joy emanating from her face.

"Of course not," he answered smoothly. "Although I would have to go through my N.E.W.T. notes on Potions again. It's been awhile since I last brewed it. But there is a particular potion that reverses the effects of Memory Charms."

To be exact, he had to travel to Knockturn Alley to pick up a couple of ingredients for the potion, which was created by Severus Snape. Those ingredients certainly could not be found in reputable stores. And the recipe was already in his mind. It was a rather useful potion, and he had used it on some of his Death Eaters and prisoners, who had thought that Obliviating themselves could prevent Lord Voldemort from seeing their memories. Ridiculous. Of course, he had already shown them the consequences of being utterly stupid.

"Recovering their memories would be a gradual process of course, but..."

"Has the potion been tested though?" Hermione asked sceptically. "A lot of potions are created each year, but most of them turn out to be utter failures..."

"The potion was created by Professor Snape," Tom quickly added. "My only good subject. Thank Merlin! Can you imagine not being good in Potions and having him as the professor?" He laughed until he saw Hermione raise her eyebrows at him. "Oh, sorry. I forgot he wasn't particularly fond of Gryffindors."

Hermione promptly snorted—both of them knew that Snape's dislike of Gryffindors was certainly a lot more than "not particularly fond".

"He never really had a problem with us from Ravenclaw though," Tom continued with a grin, "just those who, and I quote, 'Have such insignificant minds it would make the Founder of your House toss and turn in her grave if she knew of the utter idiocy that befouled her dormitories these days.'"

She giggled at the perfect imitation that accompanied his speech.

"So, you did your N.E.W.T. exam on his potion?" Hermione concluded, to which he nodded.

"I needed a good grade from him," Tom shrugged and gave her a wink.

She smiled and let out a sigh of relief—she knew what an excellent Potions Master Snape was, so the potion would most likely work.

"If it really works ... I was thinking," she said softly, "if my parents are happy the way they are right now, I shouldn't take that happiness away from them. I shouldn't be the one who decides their fate ... but if they're unhappy..."

"If they're unhappy, you have an alternative now," he finished for her.

She nodded and quietly gazed at him. Apparently, she still had something else she wanted to talk to him about, so he waited. He hadn't forgotten she suddenly appeared here, and her babbling so far had not completely reassured him it was safe yet.

Finally, after she'd seemingly gathered enough courage, she opened her mouth again. "About yesterday..." she murmured. Her voice was barely audible. "I..."

She looked away again, pretending to be unable to finish her sentence, though now Tom thought he had a hunch in regards to where it was heading towards.

"I understand ... you were feeling unhappy yesterday, and you needed some comfort," he said, allowing his voice to break at where he deemed appropriate. "I—"

"I didn't know what came over me," Hermione interrupted in a small voice. "I—I—"

She looked extremely miserable, though he wondered why. Was it because he had been mistaken and she was attracted to Healer Lewis after all? And she regretted what had happened at the bar yesterday? That thought in itself made him want to hex the man under his sink right that instant, but he knew he had to control his temper. Besides, he hadn't been wrong—Lord Voldemort never was. He'd seen in her mind it wasn't Lewis she'd wanted. She wanted him. Her actions in the pub were proof enough. It had to be why she looked so crestfallen, she was embarrassed and her morals probably told her to stay away from him.

That, he would not allow.

Tom stepped towards her.

Hermione could barely contain the triumphant smirk that threatened to erupt on her face when his hands gripped her hips and he pulled her against him roughly—close enough. Her hands came to rest on his biceps inconspicuously, while he looked down at her with a dark glint in his eyes.

“What happened yesterday was meant to be,” he spoke scratching. “I don’t think less of you for finding enjoyment and release in me, and neither should you.”

Her hands caressed down his arms softly. “Oh?” she asked, faking shyness and tilting her head questioningly.

He leaned in, until his mouth was next to her left ear, and whispered sensually, “Or do you consider me unworthy now, because of the way I made you feel?”

Hermione moved her lips to his ear, rubbed her right leg against the back of his, and whispered back in an equal tone, “Perhaps I found the experience rather unfair to you.”

She licked his ear, and he sighed, relieved she hadn't come to tell him that their actions had been all wrong and they shouldn't see each other again. Not that he would have allowed her to make that decision anyway. He closed his eyes when she continued trailing soft kisses at the side of his neck.

Now!

Abruptly, her fingers slipped into the sleeve of his right arm, yanked his wand from its holster there, and tossed it away. His eyes flashed open in alarm, but she’d already gripped both his wrists tightly, and the leg, that was previously rubbing him pleasurable, tackled him. He plunged to the floor backwards, while she went down with him, falling on top of his body. He noted she used her full weight to pin down his wrists, and her wand was between her fingers and his left wrist.

“Incarcerous!” she whispered, smirking at him when ropes flew around his arms and tied them together above his head to something he could not see.

Treacherous, little hussy.

He expected the door to fly open and the cavalry to enter, but her mouth found his and she kissed him long and hard. Tom blinked and looked at her surprised as she moved back into a seated position on his stomach with her legs on either side of his body. An incredibly devious expression erupted on her face.

“My turn,” she said triumphantly, while trailing her wand over his shirt. “Evanesco!”

She grinned at his stunned expression when he found himself completely naked underneath her.

“Oh, oopsi,” she said with a wink. “My wand must have been a bit too excited. I planned to just vanish your shirt.”

He scowled at the obvious lie, and she sniggered in response.

“I’d better put this away,” she wiggled her wand in front of his face teasingly, “before I do some actual damage.”

Tom's eyes followed carefully where she stashed her wand away.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, thinking about stealing it from me?” she chided.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” he replied with an upward curl of his mouth.

"You know what they say about bad boys," she softly stated, leaning forward with her hands next to his head.

"They always win," Tom speculated loosely.

Hermione shook her head slowly before whispering against his lips, "They need to be punished," she paused, tilting her head, "severely."

He felt himself grow hard at her words alone. Sweet Salazar, he had nothing to hide it with this time around. He'd already tried to loosen those restraints on his wrists wandlessly, but he hadn't lied when he'd told her, he could only perform simple spells like that. Alas, her Confining Charm proved too strong so far for him to simply break it in one shot, but it seemed he had some time available, for she had now captured his mouth again in a passionate kiss and had lowered her body on top of him.

Oh yessss, he definitely had time. No hurry.

While their tongues were pretty occupied with each other, her hands stroked through his hair before travelling down the sides of his face to his neck and passed the sides of his torso. When she reached his hips, she shifted her weight slightly to the side and captured his erection in her right hand. Slowly, she caressed him, using the fluid already leaking from his tip as an effective massage oil. His heart began to speed up at her diligent touches, and he felt his blood pulse harder and harder through his veins to reach that place he so desperately needed it to be now.

Tom moaned into her mouth and bucked against her when she suddenly squeezed him hard.

Chuckling, Hermione moved her head back and gazed into his lust-filled eyes. "So, this bad boy likes to be punished," she contemplated and gave him another squeeze.

A shudder ran through him, and he grunted, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, she was so close he just had to kiss her. So, he lifted his head. Quickly, she moved back farther, clicking her tongue in disapproval and removing her hand from where he preferred her to keep it. He couldn't withhold the disappointed groan that left his lips unwanted. Her fingers trailed upward over his chest before ending on top of his lips.

"You need to learn to behave," she said, pushing his head back against the floor harshly.

And she began inspecting his jaw, his neck and his shoulders with her mouth, her tongue and her teeth, leaving behind little bites—not enough to break the skin, but hard enough to make him shiver in desire. Hermione moved down to his chest, taking her time with both of his nipples. She licked, sucked, kissed, and bit them, until he thrashed underneath her and let out a ragged scream.

He could feel her smile against his skin just before she blew a long breath over both his nipples. The sensation that rushed through him from such a simple act on her part made his entire body tingle, and he could feel his cock pulsing hard in wantonness, while her mouth did all kinds of things to his belly, going lower and lower and lower.

Tom lifted his head and looked down at her. Desire flooded his entire being.

"What are you doing?" he rasped between shallow, uneven breaths.

She looked up and smirked. "You may have three guesses," she replied, taking the base of his cock in her hand and lowering her head to it in a teasingly slow manner, while maintaining their eye contact.

His eyes darkened. She licked the tip once, twice, and then, grinned when he growled frustrated.

"Speechless?" she enquired teasingly. "For I didn't hear you guess."

"Don't want to distract you by having to reply," he answered suggestively.

She swirled her tongue around him and withdrew. "I am not that easily distracted."

"Prove it," he dared her.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Her fingers tightened harshly, and his legs jerked in a kneecap reaction.

"Depends," he breathed out in a feeble attempt to make it sound casually.

"On what?"

"Your technique."

"I'll think you'll find my technique quite..."—she pressed her mouth slightly over his tip and sucked it briefly—"... sufficient."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"No," Hermione said coolly, "you won't be. Today, I am your judge, jury and executioner."

And she began to orally please him. Pretty soon, his mind couldn't make a coherent thought anymore. It was solely focused on the intoxicating pleasure she granted him. She had both hands on his hips now, but was unable to keep him down completely. He was just too strong for her to hold down in this manner. Being a lot lighter than him, she missed the leverage she needed. So, frequently, he got down deeper into her mouth than she'd planned, making her gag.

However, to his astonishment, this didn't make her stop or use magic to hold him contained.

On the contrary, it seemed his uncontrollable, violent, fiery reactions to her only made her try to take him in farther, while she sucked him harder and harder. Noises that were too primitive to be screams left his lips, and with a burst of power, he broke his bounds. She didn't notice it until his fingers wrapped themselves into her hair and forced her head farther down. Her teeth clamped around his cock immediately, and he froze.

"Move it or lose it," she growled against his flesh.

The vibration of her throat nearly made him come. And he absolutely adored the way she grazed her teeth sideways to underline the threat she made; not to mention that he happened to be one of the few who didn't mind the use of a bit of teeth there. So, it sent a delicious titillating rush through his body.

"Then what am I going to hold on to?" he teased.

"Not my problem."

"It is now," he said and pushed her down a little farther, enjoying the way her teeth scratched his flesh and the discomfort that flashed through her eyes briefly.

"Grab your own hair," her muffled voice suggested boldly.

"I like holding you there," he retorted immediately, though he admired the way she didn't give an inch both literally and figuratively speaking.

"Tough."

"One hand then," he negotiated.

She glared up at him. "Do you think I make idle threats?"

They gazed at each other silently. Slowly, he removed his hands and held them up in a gesture of surrender. Eh, he was quite attached to his little Lord. He'd seen enough of Hermione Granger's actions in her own memory to know she would be capable of following through on her threat.

"That's a good boy," she purred and took him in farther than he had pushed her, causing herself to gag.

His hands mowed around; his nails scratched through the woollen carpet, trying to find something to hold onto and failing miserably, while she sucked him feverishly. She did things with her tongue that made his eyes bulge out and had him yelling at the top of his voice. But when she added some teeth to it, he took her earlier suggestion to heart and grabbed his own hair. His heart pounded so hard it was going to explode, and he needed air, desperately, for he couldn't breathe. Too much ... it was too much pleasure, too much passion, just too much...

For Salazar's sake, this witch was trying to kill him.

She chuckled around his cock when she saw him pull hard on his hair and withdrew completely, waiting a second, until he caught his breath and looked down at her with a wild hungry expression on his face. Hermione reached out to his head, wrapped her fingers around his arms, and pulled his hands down to hers.

Confused, he followed her lead. What was she planning to do now?

"Very well," she conceded. "It would be a shame of that nice hair of yours if you pull it out." He blinked surprised when she placed his hands in her hair. "But if you choke me, I'm going to haunt you for all eternity."

"I'll get a Ghost Restraining Order."

"I'll ignore it," Hermione deadpanned, while her hands massaged his balls.

"They can en-enfoooorce," he moaned, "it."

Tom was barely able to finish the sentence before he let out another deep groan, because she slid up his shaft with one hand, rolled her palm over his tip, and rotated her hand before sliding it back down. All the while her other hand was still caressing his balls, and he tightened his grip on her hair.

"Pfffttt... you're counting on the Ministry to do something?" she asked rhetorically, holding her hands still for a moment. "Boohoo, I am so scared now. The Ministry of Magic will come after my ghostly body."

"They've enforced those Restraining Orders before," Tom countered, amused by her distrust in the inner workings of the Ministry.

"Only because the ghosts were too stupid not to see them coming. It's relatively easy to avoid detection if you're not solid. Also, those devices they use to try to entrap a ghost in ... not good enough. I read about them in my fourth year, and please, I can't believe any ghost stayed in there and didn't see the obvious way out. The only reason I can think of is ignorance, because the seams of those boxes are not secured. All you have to do is change shape and you whisk away."

"Most ghosts don't think about changing shape," Tom replied, impressed with her reasoning. "They are too hung up on their original form."

She nodded in return. "I wouldn't be," she warned and squeezed his cock hard again.

With a deep guttural howl, he bucked into the air, and his fingers dug into her curls, putting due pressure on her roots. Her laugh wrapped around his body like tiny fingers tickling him all over, and he shivered.

"I'd use whatever means at my disposal to make your life a living hell," she finished.

"I'll put personal wards around myself."

Hermione sniggered. "Wards don't work against ghosts and you know it."

"Have you ever been told that you're one hell of a scary little witch?" he asked dead serious.

"Many times. And you don't want to be on the receiving end of my vengeance," she threatened.

"I'll remember that," he replied, smirking.

"Good," she purred, satisfied.

After which, she moved her head back down and continued where she left off. Pretty soon, the same overwhelming frenzy sensations ran through his body again. Merlin, where on earth had she learnt how to do this? He'd never seen anything in her mind that suggested she was anything but pure and innocent; but boy, the girl had skill and—he writhed in an aching delectation—was rather sadistic in using said skill. She'd get him closer and closer, and then, didn't bring him there were he needed her to bring him most—his release.

A low hiss escaped his lips when she slowed down again. He almost pushed her head down as a warning, but realising that probably would not get him where he needed to be, he refrained from the urge. But she was pushing it. He was getting desperate.

She glanced up at him tauntingly. "Do you need something?"

He glared at her, but some of his normally extremely frightening gaze was diminished incredibly by the hopelessness that darted visibly through his features. A hopelessness Hermione found rather endearing, because somehow, she felt it was not something he was used to feeling. She winked at him.

"You might get what you need if you ask politely," she said mischievously.

He scowled. "Or I can just take it," he suggested, roaming his fingers through her hair warningly.

She shrugged. "Bad little boys don't get nearly as much pleasure as good little boys do," she warned back, and she licked his tip again, grinning when it twitched.

"I beg to differ," he commented with his eyes closed.

"It's just one little word. I'll make it worth your while," she promised, and her eyes darkened sensually.

It sparked his curiosity. But he didn't beg. He was Lord Voldemort. Still, that look in her eyes held a promise and...

Merlin, that devious, little, manipulative witch really should have been sorted into Slytherin, for he had no idea what he should do next. Lord Voldemort never asked for anything—he took it. But now the little Mudblood had him wondering if something else might be more pleasurable. Damn her and her conniving ways. His fingers tightened his hold on her hair.

Keeping eye contact with him, Hermione moved her mouth slowly around his shaft, so he could witness how his thickness filled her.

Oh yeah, definitely Slytherin with tactics like these.

Screw it; nobody was here to witness it. He wanted to know. Tom gritted his teeth. This was going to cost him. The tension between them skyrocketed, and it added on to the anticipation of what was to come.

Finally, he garbled reluctantly and completely incomprehensible, "Please."

It was barely audible for that matter either, but seeing what it had cost him to say it, Hermione let it slide, just this once. Next time, he'd better learnt English or she'd show him.

With a meticulous attention, she began to explore every part of him with her mouth—her eyes continuously on his face—as she moved up and down in such a deliberate, unhurried, lazy manner that he could witness his pulsing cock enter her deliciously moist cavity over and over again. He couldn't keep his eyes off the sight. It wasn't so much that the physical sensation was different, but it was just magnificent to see it all.

She was glorious when he perceived how she took him as far as she could in slow-motion, when he watched her struggle against her gag-reflex, when he noticed how she eagerly received his accidental thrusts, when he witnessed her mouth close around him as if she was sucking on the sweetest lollipop ever. He loved how she claimed him, while he claimed her. That just flat out did it for him.

Quickly, Tom Riddle did something he'd never done before: he warned her seconds before it happened.

Hermione smiled, but instead of withdrawing her mouth fast and finishing the job with her hand, she pushed her mouth down and sucked harder. He clutched to her and yelled while he spilt his hot release in her. Seeing her swallow it made him thrash and buck against her. He had to release his grip on her hair or he was sure to pull out huge chunks. So, he dug his nails in his hips, leaving tiny, bloody, half-moon imprints behind. But he didn't feel the little pains due to the all-consuming gratification of his orgasm.

She kept sucking until he softened in her mouth. Then, she waited, holding him there until he had regained his composure and was able to look at her again. He stared at her—his mouth slightly ajar.

A small smile graced her face before she began, ever so leisurely so he could witness it all perfectly, to trace her lips along his flesh, licking him completely clean before releasing him fully. She sat up and wiped her mouth clean. That small smile returned when he did nothing but gape at her.

Again, something that never happened to Tom Riddle before: he was speechless.

She bent forward and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, while summoning her bag in her hand.

"Owl me," she ordered, very satisfied she'd gained the upper hand in their relationship.

With a crack, she Disapparated before he had a chance to reply.

For a long time, he just lay there, unmoving; until he got cold and realised he was still undressed. Scrambling to his feet, he walked over to where his wand lay and picked it up. He performed a quick Cleansing Charm on himself, because he'd perspired significantly. With an elaborate swirl of his wand, he performed the counter charm to the Vanishing Spell Hermione had cast on his clothes, and they reappeared out of non-being and whirled back around his tall frame as if nothing had happened.

But Tom Marvolo Riddle knew something had happened, and it had changed everything.

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