His Glowing Reputation

Chapter Thirteen: Reviving and Confunding
(turns out this is not the last chapter..the next one should be)!

Tom Riddle’s mind was calm and rational, clearing out the space in the cavern. Grains of dirt dispelled like sawdust from the tiny knife, returning the magical rape kit back on the shelf next to supplies for experiments. Also returned, was the clear potion he’d used as a contraceptive. Before closing the lid on the ornate, leather box of scorpions and eagles Riddle took out an empty test tube.

Opposite this wall, his other clothing besides the robes he was wearing were there. Rapidly, he dressed back into a crisp, white shirt, gray sweater, tie and blazer with briefs, pants, belt, shoes and socks. Voldemort had always longed to be a fancy dresser to impress. Once he had been free of the orphanage's tutelage and gotten himself some money through his cult, he had managed a new, small wardrobe to wear. As a very little boy, he had hated looking like the orphans in the wretched gray uniform, all the time aware how according to his view, he was practically a different species from them.

Raising his wand to his temple, out came a delicate, gossamer strand. Riddle curled it around the tip of his wand, and popping the stopper of the empty test tube, it plunked down into the bottom, alive with a bright blue light. Riddle slid the test tube back inside the deep pocket inside his robes where the Essence of Murtlap was, along with several silver sickles.

His dark eyes darted to Celeste Lovegood, curled in a heap in the center between the black-flamed lit walls. Swiftly he crouched down, beside her. Zooming across the passage to him through the accio spell, with a jab of his wand, arrived all of Celeste’s clothing: shoes, a blouse, skirt, and robes.

He dugs his hands inside the pockets to find remnants of dried herbology plants. Apparently, Celeste had had that class today or maybe the Ravenclaw had an interest in the subject. Either way, Tom Riddle didn’t care. He just groveled through, feeling around for anything valuable and also a token he would take as a “souvenir”, meaning something that seemed particularly personal to her. He managed to rob ten galleons off of her, and finally at the pit of her pocket, he extracted what he thought was only a silver sickle. It turned out to be a miniscule charm of a unicorn. Riddle examined it in the misty light with a satisfied smile. Here was the perfect little item to serve as a symbol, representing his latest victim. The magical creature of innocence and purity was indeed the unicorn. He had, indeed taken from her purity and innocence. Then with a jingle, he dumped it all in his pocket, the pillage had just been an added bonus compared with all he had gotten to do to her.

He watched Celeste for a few seconds, wondering if it would be more convenient if he left her there. Probably not, as he needed to make sure he was never caught. Determined to wake her up, he raised his hand, wand-free. A stinging slap landed across her already flushed face, turning it even pinker. Remembering how she had slapped him once, and out of a desire to return that deed, the boy Voldemort walloped the must forceful slap he could muster across Celeste’s face.

With the following slap, her eyes opened. Riddle’s finely carved features were the first thing she saw.

“W-where am I? What happened, Tom?”

“Get dressed,” he sibiliantly ordered, ignoring the curious inquiries.

She sat up on her elbows immediately, and turned her head around searching for her clothes. Her head and most of her body was aching, it was like she was hungover from drinking alcohol in excess.

Celeste managed to button up her blouse after several moments. Meanwhile, Riddle observed with an increasingly amused expression.

On wobbling legs, Celeste stood. Repeatedly she bent over trying to pull the skirt up without falling down from dizzyness.

Once again, she toppled over and stood up again. He mocked, nastily “You’d think a pureblood would have more strength than this. Get those rags you slobbered over on yourself…. You don’t want me touching you... if you know whats good for you.”

At the third attempt, Celeste managed to wrap the skirt past her shoes, and up around her slim waist. The skirt was wet from masturbation, which was what Riddle was referring to as slober.

With that, Riddle had the candle-lights turned off magically with a whirl of his wand. Frightened, Celeste scampered over to him, and he ignored her.

In total darkness, Riddle suddenly remembered his routine precaution to rid the last magic he performed, chiefly used to wipe his wand whenever he used Unforgiveable curses. “Deletrius,” he muttered as a habit, even though it was unnecessary with his prodigious, prodigical skill to say it aloud.

Celeste was still scared in the dark, and she also lit her wand like Voldemort. She raced up, behind his shoulders and grabbed his upper arm, clinging to it. He resisted, shaking her off like an irksome fly. Now that his so-called fling with her would be ended, he would not permit the behavior he had put up with before.

They climbed up a hill, Celeste becoming weakened and continously moaning for Tom to wait up.

Riddle turned around and casted the Silencio charm upon her throat. He was going to do that to her later, just in case she started demanding questions once they got out of the secret passage. He could not have anybody’s suspicions aroused, of whoever they would pass while in the corridor.

Celeste kept tripping over the clumps of dirt and roots, whilst Riddle breezed past them almost airily. Once they got up the ladder and onto the ladding by the shoot, Riddle scourgified both his robes and Celeste’s so that there wouldn’t be any evidence that they had not been in the castle’s strictly enforced boundaries at the time.

Riddle raised his wand up and casted the homenum revelio spell that detects human presence. They had to wait a minute, as a few people went the vicinity outside the statue, and then with the territory clear, Riddle pushed Celeste up muttering “dissendium.” The witch’s hump became a chasm and they both emerged and set off.

They crossed the castle for several minutes, going up several stair-wells, through tapestries and such. Until they came to Ravenclaw tower. Suddenly, Tom Riddle aimed his wand at the back of Celeste’s head and came up behind her whispering in her ear, “You will not remember being with me this evening at all. You believe you went to the Ravenclaw common room alone.”

He had just performed a Confundus charm over Celeste, which was needed so she wouldn’t remember their trek back to safe territory. Even if she already did not remember the tortortous sexual acts performed on her ealier, he could not risk her remembering or understanding what happened to her.

Next, he placed a supremely powerful form of disillushionment over himself that rendered him invisible.

They took the correct stairwell that led to the Ravenclaw’s common room. The confundus charm, only made Celeste’s motor skills deteriorate even more. She stumbled up the stairs like a drunk, Riddle the unseen force prodding her along with his unseen wand.

When they reached the summit, Riddle grasped the bronze eagle knocker on the varnished, wooden door. A serene, clear voice asked, “Which is more vital: time or space?”

“They are not contingent upon each other, for time is an illusion moving through space,” answered Riddle dryly after merely a second’s thought. He had already developed an opinion on this, studying magic so extensively. Time and space were very important to magical theory.

“An excellent insight,” the voice from the eagle knocker praised but still sounding impartial.

The door opened and Celeste went through in a daze. Riddle still invisible, bounded down the narrow stairwell and out of sight.