Cruelty and the Beast

Two: Bullies and Blood-Traitors

The gang of Slytherins quietly entered the classroom, fifteen minutes late. They had lost track of time in the library, being so preoccupied with their immensely important conversation. Professor Slughorn looked at them with slight displeasure as he asked, “where have you all been? Class has already begun.”

“I’m sorry sir, but we got held up in the library,” Tom Riddle explained. “We were looking for more information on those counter hexes you told us about, you see, and we lost track of time. It’ll not happen again, sir.”

Slughorn waved his hand. “No matter, take your seats please. Just try to ensure that you are on time from now on.”

“Thank you, sir.” Tom took his usual spot at the front and opened up his books. His friends followed.

“Today you may continue working on your essay compositions,” Slughorn announced. “Work quietly with your group members. I have plenty of books on my desk that you may find useful, and let me know if you need any further assistance.”

With that, the students scrambled around to find their partners and plunged into their textbooks. Tom pulled out his parchment and turned to his friends, Lestrange, Avery, Mesmer, and Malfoy. “That was a close one,” Lestrange spoke. “I was sure Professor would give me detention, this is the third time I’ve been late this week.”

“I bet your girlfriend is glad you don’t have detention either, Tom,” Pollux snickered.

Tom grimaced. “Who was that beastly girl who kept staring at me in the library?”

“That was Mudblood Myrtle. She’s a Hufflepuff in her third year, I believe,” replied Avery with a grin. “Quite a prize, isn’t she?”

“So she is a Mudblood, hideous, and a Hufflepuff? Absolutely nothing going for her then, I see,” Tom responded.

“That’s not true,” Avery protested. “She’s not entirely useless; if you want to raise your divination marks you can use her face to study the constellations.”

The Slytherins snickered loudly.

“So, why were you lot late for class?” they heard someone say behind them, “setting up more monsters to attack poor Muggle-borns?”

They turned around to see Edward Weasley, who was glaring at them as if they were something foul. “None of your damn business, Weasley,” sneered Lestrange.

“It is you lot, isn’t it?” Weasley continued. “I suppose you Slytherins think it’s good fun to harm innocent people because of their race.”

“Hey listen Weasley, you should probably get back to your Mudblood girlfriend. Maybe if you sell off some of your food stamps you can save up enough money to buy that mule some more nice potato sacks to wear,” Malfoy replied. “Just like that dress robe you bought for her at the Yule Ball. Your family must have had to eat out of the garbage for months to pay for those rags, I bet.”

Weasley’s face turned as red as his hair. He clenched his fists and spat, “you dare to say anything else about Fiona and I’ll –“

“What is going on here?” boomed Slughorn’s voice. The boys looked up at once.

“Nothing, Professor,” Lestrange said quickly. “We were simply discussing our essay when Edward here decided to come and bother us. It is a bit distracting actually, as we are trying to get our work done...”

Weasley looked furious. “Mr. Weasley,” Slughorn replied sternly. “I would appreciate it if you would leave these boys to their work, and would strongly suggest that you get started on your own assignment. Need I remind you that you have already failed the past two quizzes? If this behaviour keeps up, I am afraid to say you will need to be disciplined.”

Fuming, Edward silently returned to his seat. Slughorn seemed satisfied as he walked away, the Slytherins quietly snickering at his back. “That blood-traitor will get what’s coming to him,” Tom muttered to his friends under his breath.

*

A few days had passed, and Myrtle had been spying on Tom since. She had found it difficult to find him since the day at the library, as he hadn’t showed up there again for some reason. She didn’t know when his classes were either, so it wasn’t possible for her to wait around the corner when the bell rang. However, she had the opportunity to see him at mealtimes, during when she spent a good portion of the hour gazing at him and fantasizing.

“Just talk to him,” Fiona urged her at dinner. “He won’t bite, the worst he could do is ignore you.”

“He does that already,” Myrtle responded glumly. “I bet he doesn’t even know who I am.”

“Introduce yourself then,” Fiona persisted. “Just go over there and talk to him!”

Myrtle shook her head, peering at him again. Tom was sitting with the regular casual expression on his friend. He was listening to something Rosier was saying, much to Myrtle’s dismay. “Not while he’s with that awful girl, anyway,” she added with lucid jealousy.

Fiona laughed. “I bet he doesn’t even like her. Look how bored he looks, listening to that wench.”

“I don’t know if he looks bored. You can never tell what he’s thinking about, really, it’s like he doesn’t have emotions or something.”

Fiona frowned. “That is a bit peculiar,” she agreed.

Myrtle decided to change the topic. “Have they caught that creep who attacked Percy yet?”

“No, they don’t have idea who or what did it. Edward is certain that it was one of those fifth-year Slytherins though, but there’s no proof.”

“I bet it is,” replied Myrtle.

Fiona shook her head. “I don’t know, I think he’s just being paranoid. Besides, do you really think your Tom would hang around with murderers?” she teased. “The flawless prefect, Tom Riddle?”

“Of course not,” Myrtle agreed. “But still, that Pollux boy...”

Their conversation slowly faded as people began scrambling out of their seats to head back to their common rooms. Myrtle was finishing her pudding, deep in contemplation. Should she talk to Tom? She wasn’t a bold girl who found it easy to strike up conversations with dashing boys, but she was aching to get close to him. She didn’t know how much longer she could continue merely staring at him. She needed him. She looked up at Fiona, who was busy tidying her hair in her pocket mirror, wondering if she was right. Would Tom Riddle talk to her?

“Of course not,” she muttered to herself. “Why would he look at me when he could have another girl in the entire school? I should just forget about him.” And with that she stood and returned to her common room.

But her curiosity persisted until the next day, until she finally reached a conclusion. She would talk to him, but that was all. Perhaps they would have a conversation, and in time maybe they could become friends...and maybe even something more. But casually saying hello wouldn’t be too difficult, Myrtle reasoned; either he would reply or he wouldn’t, and then she would know for certain if she had any chance with him.
Saying hello to Tom Riddle didn’t make her feel any less nervous, however. She didn’t know where she would find him, or what she would say to him even when she did. What if his friends were around? They would surely tease her. What could she talk to him about? The weather? Homework? Perhaps she could ask him to tutor her? No, no, that wouldn’t work. Myrtle pondered this frantically all day, wandering to and fro the castle. It was a Hogsmede weekend, but she had decided to stay in the castle today for a chance to run into Tom. She had never seem him at Hogsmede and figured that he usually stayed back to finish his assignments or prefect duties.

Maybe I should write him a letter, she thought suddenly. It would be much easier to hand him a note than to work up the courage to actually talk to him. Excited, she rushed to her dorm to find some parchment.

She sat for what seemed like hours, with crumpled up pieces of parchment lying all over her four-poster bed. She finally finished her note expressing her infatuation for him, and left the common room. Now all she needed to do was to find Tom and work up the nerves to hand him her letter...

This task also proved to be difficult. Once more, he was not at the library. He wasn’t anywhere outside either, or patrolling the corridors. Disappointed, Myrtle waited in her common room for lunchtime to come. She bolted downstairs nearly half an hour before noon and then paced around the hallways, the letter in hand. When lunch hour finally came, she rushed into the Great Hall with the regular traffic of students and anxiously took her seat. To her excitement, Tom entered alone and sat down at the Slytherin table next to Pollux. She was additionally pleased to note that Rosier was not with him.

She barely ate her lunch, staring anxiously at Tom. She would leave as soon as he got up from his seat, then wait for him in the hall. Best of all, most of the students would be either in the Great Hall or at Hogsmede, so nobody would witness this if things went awry. Myrtle was ecstatic.

“Why aren’t you eating today?” a girl in second year asked her curiously.

Myrtle shrugged. “I’m not hungry.”

The girl frowned slightly. “Why aren’t you in Hogsmede? Everyone else is.”

“I didn’t go, I...” Myrtle cut herself off as she realized that Tom was leaving of his seat. “I have to go!” she said suddenly, and bolted out of the Great Hall, tightly clutching her letter.

She stood in the nearly deserted hallway, waiting anxiously. She was tense and her forehead was beginning to sweat. Was this a good idea? She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. Tom would think she was an idiot, and the letter was a ridiculous idea. I should just go back upstairs right now and tear it, she thought suddenly.

Her heart stopped beating, it seemed, as she abruptly caught a glimpse of Tom. He was exiting the Great Hall, and best of all, he was alone! However, he turned in the opposite direction from her and continued walking. Myrtle’s heart began to thump loudly as she wondered what she should do. Should she follow him?

After a moment of pondering, she decided to run after him. “Hey!” she felt herself call before she realized what she was doing. “Excuse me!”

Tom stopped walking and turned around as Myrtle caught up to him. “Yes?” he replied, looking extremely puzzled.

Myrtle’s cheeks began to burn. What was she doing? What a stupid, idiotic plan! She stood frozen, her face burning deep red as she thought of something to say. “May I help you?” he continued.

Myrtle couldn’t respond. She felt as if she had been stunned, unable to utter a word. She felt as if she was going to vomit, as she stood frozen staring stupidly at Tom Riddle.

Tom was beginning to look impatient. “I really have to go, so if there is nothing –“

“H-hi,” Myrtle stammered. “Um, uh, th-this letter –“

“Well, if it isn’t Moaning Myrtle,” she heard a mocking voice chide behind her. Myrtle felt her face burn even brighter, and wished that she could crawl into a hole and hide. It was Olive Hornby, surrounded by her group of Ravenclaws.

“Why weren’t you at Hogsmede, four-eyes?” Olive continued.

Myrtle suddenly felt overwhelmingly self-conscious about her large, round spectacles. She was sweating furiously now, and her hand was shaking. “I-I wasn’t f-feeling well...”

“Oh what’s going on here? Is that – is that a love letter, four-eyes?”

The other Ravenclaws snickered. Myrtle was avoiding looking up at Tom, who was looking as confused as ever yet slightly interested. Myrtle’s hand quickly jerked to conceal the letter, but Olive was too swift. She pulled it out of Myrtle’s grip, who loudly shrieked, “NO!”

Olive unfolded the letter and snickered. “It is a love letter! And isn’t this sweet, it looks like she fancies Tom Riddle!”

Tears were beginning to run down Myrtle’s face by now, and she stood there trembling. “No, no I don’t,” she protested. She wished that Tom would leave; the scene was humiliating enough without him gawking at her and her letter. “No, please don’t read it,” she trembled, but Olive ignored her wishes.

“Dear Tom,” she read in a mocking imitation of Myrtle’s voice. “I think you are –“

“What’s all this?” said a deep grunting voice with a heavy Yorkshire accent. Myrtle looked up to see Pollux Mesmer, which made her tears flow even more. Olive looked delighted.

“Mudblood Myrtle fancies Tom,” explained one of Olive’s friends. “And she has written him a love letter!”

Mesmer roared with laughter. “Heh, let’s hear it then!”

Myrtle couldn’t remember being this humiliated in her entire life. This was all her fault, her own stupid fault for writing the letter...

But miraculously, Olive barely got the chance to complete reading the first sentence when Professor Dippet approached. “What is going on here?” he demanded, alarmed to see Myrtle sobbing.

Olive turned pale. “Nothing sir, we were just –“

“Bullying other students is not acceptable, Miss Hornby! I will see you in my office at once,” Professor Dipped replied sternly. A crowd had formed around them now, wondering what was happening. Myrtle suddenly realized that Tom wasn’t there anymore, which cheered her up very slightly. “Move along now,” Professor shouted to the others. “There is nothing to see here!” Then, turning to Olive he continued, “I believe you have something that belongs to Miss Wyndham.”

Myrtle snatched the letter from the girl’s hands and raced up the stairs, completely mortified. As soon as she got to the nearest bathroom, she locked herself in a stall, tossed the crumpled up piece of parchment into the toilet, and sat down, weeping.