Tom Riddle and the Pureblood Prince

Chapter Two: Power of Obsessive Love


The next morning the sun streamed in from the high windows as students in the Great Hall lingered over the four tables, finishing with breakfast.

Professor Slughorn jostled through the crowds, until arriving near the back of the Slytherin table.

In his hands was a mass of parchment concerning the N.E.W.T.s the Sixth years qualified for and the scheduled times to attend them.

Eileen was not watching her Head of House approaching, but was staring at a worn piece of parchment. It was the marks she had received for her O.W.L.s in July:


ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS

EILEEN PRINCE HAS RECEIVED:

ANCIENT RUNES……………………………………………………O
ARITHMANCY…………………………………………………………P
ASTRONOMY…………………………………………………………O
CARE OF MAGICAL CREATURES…………………………………O
CHARMS………………………………………………………………O
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS……………………………O
HERBOLOGY…………………………………………………………E
HISTORY OF MAGIC…………………………………………………O
POTIONS………………………………………………………………O
TRANSFIGURATION…………………………………………………E


Wallowing internally over the mistakes she recalled making, she thought 'Defense Against the Dark Arts…was suprising. I thought I made at least one huge error….Care of Magical Creatures….Kettleburn's test was too easy, so it wasn’t talent. I failed Arithmancy, so that’s one less class. But who cares? It’s my mother’s alley, not mine. I always abhorred it.'

Reviewing the grade of ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in both Herbology and Transfiguration, Eileen continued the vituperative railing, What if those teachers, only take those who get 'Outstanding'?

“Eileen…Eileen Prince…Let’s see,” Slughorn had reached her name. “Nine OWLs! Good gracious. Your schedule is for six classes, all taught at N.E.W.T. level.”

Eileen took the piece of yellowed parchment the size of an index card from across the table and smiled at the fact that she would still get to learn Transfiguration and Herbology.

Next to Slughorn, was Tom Riddle not far off from where Eileen was, but on the other side of the table.

“Tom…Twelve O.W.L.s. Top marks in everything. Astounding academic achievement, my boy!,” Slughorn thundered, getting the notice of some of the surrounding students.

Riddle took it with a smug smile, but all the same, heat was climbing up his pale face. He really wasn’t too pleased with himself, even though he was now enrolled in all seven classes, but he made sure to convey the aura that he was.

Slughorn leant closer to Tom, whispering in his ear an admonishment, “You won’t be needing a time-turner anymore…just seven classes now….It’ll be much more intensive, mind you.”

Riddle nodded and dutifully assented, “I’ll be sure to shoulder that responsibility, sir.”

Slughorn finally left the group of older students. Riddle got up to make a short trip to the Common Room. Shortly afterward, would be his first class of term this Thursday morning. N.E.W.T. Arithmancy, the one class Eileen is not enrolled in.

************************************************** ************************************************** *************

An hour and a quarter later, Riddle was finished with a thoroughly stimulating Arithmancy class.

Temporarily absent-minded, in deep thought over theoretical concepts of magical numerology, Riddle was planning on going to the library.

He was thinking on the lesson he’d just had, which was about how to break a curse. His brilliant, yet twisted mind saw how being aware the way curses can be broken, would pave the way to create stronger curses on objects, including the future horcruxes.

But as he neared the library corridor an unpleasant reminder surfaced.

Tom had agreed he would assist the First years from their History of Magic lesson to their next class. Evidently, Minerva’s ‘Objectives List’ was to be taken seriously despite Riddle’s qualms voiced on the train yesterday.

Riddle had tabulated the best times for himself, with the other Prefects last night. He would only have to do it twice a day for one week, but it was still a hindrance.

Retracing his steps, and then proceeding to the first floor, he thought it a loss to be wasting his time. Instead of accumulating knowledge during his new free period, he had to use it for the sake of annoying dunderheads, as that was what he referred to them as.

Professor Binns sailed out through the wall, just as Riddle arrived. Then out came all the First years, rushing beyond the classroom door.

Only some of the crowd of young First years, noticed the elder boy with the Prefect badge. Most of them, were still talking, their conversation droning on like a bees buzzing.

“The seventh floor to Defense Against the Dark Arts!..Get in a line,” Tom Riddle commanded.

Riddle tasted the air with his own power radiating from the announcement. Most of the First years were shocked into submission.

Except for one of the smallest and shortest of them. Riddle saw this very curly black-haired figure maneuveur to the head, despite being from the back.

Riddle followed them on the sidelines, as he directed them up the Main stairs.

Throughout the journey, he gave the line a few more of his commands until he said, “We’re taking a short-cut. Behind the tapestry, turn left…there’s a ramp to get from the fourth to the seventh floor.”

Riddle quickly got to the tapestry and held it open for the First years to pass under. This would make things faster and the sooner he could go to the library to study curses and curse-breaking.

But behind the tapestry issued several high-pitched screams. Riddle darted to the other side of the tapestry, and then the last few followed.

“It’s a ghost!,” Augusta Bulstrode cried out, backing into a corner.

It was the rambunctious poltergeist, Peeves. Floating right in front of their faces in his flamboyant clothing and carrying a bell. He began to ring it, making an insipid clanging.

“Ickle bitty firsties…Rise and shine!”

Most of the First years backed further into the wall, only a few brave enough to pass the deviant spirit.

“That is not quite a ghost. It’s the school poltergeist,” Riddle informed them.

Yet most of the First years ignored the Prefect, huddled in a small group whimpering.

“I’ll summon the Barron, Peeves!…”

Shortly after that, Riddle pulled his wand out, as the threat of the Bloody Baron apparently wasn’t working.

Peeves lolled at a very fast pace, ““Oh, most think he’s silly, the Tommy boy Prefect, but some are so stupored they think he’s just mad. But Peevesy knows better and says that he’s bad-“

But whatever Peeves was going to say or do next was cut short.

Riddle jabbed his wand in the Poltergeist’s direction, and by the next second, Peeves was charmed stuck to the wall, but now howling like a maniac.

Completely careless to Peeve’s prior insults, he pressed, “Get a move on. Back in line, unless you want to be late your first day.”

They quickly complied, now in awe at this Prefect and the alacrity with whcih magic was used. For many, it was the first time they had ever seen someone wave a wand.

One of the girls named Bridget Cornfoot (a Ravenclaw), was very sensitive. Her face started to screw up, like she was about to shed tears. Bridget had thought it somewhat cruel what this boy had done to Peeves.

Another girl, Sylvia Macdougal (a Hufflepuff) noticed Bridget's discomfort. Sylvia started to wonder what it could be when she remembered what the Headmaster had said last night. She piped up, "I thought the rule is magic isn't allowed except in class?"

Riddle responded, "Rules aren't set in stone here. You'll soon see everyone does magic outside class, or at least everyone whose got nerve." Tom said this charmingly and referred to people who've got nerve as an appeal to their fears to take risks.

Something Peeves had said clunked into place for the curly-haired boy at the head of the line. Being a pure-blood, he had already heard from cousins about someone at school who was the leader of a gang that his cousins were in. They said, they were under an Unbreakable Vow and couldn’t divulge much information, lest they would die. But this First year, had a good hypothesis, as to whom it might be.

He jogged up the ramp to get closer to the Prefect assisting them. Having the nerve to handshake with both hands he said, “Pleased to meet you. I’m Alphard Black. I’m in Slytherin too! My family is ‘Toujour Pur.’ Been that way for ages. What about your name?”

Riddle was caught off guard by this random affront.

Looking this particular First year full in the face, his dark eyes glinted into the other boy’s curiously. “Riddle. Tom Riddle. Like I said, a Prefect. With the power to give out detention. So I suggest you stop cajoling me into whatever it is you’re after.”

Ridlde made this quip as he intuituively knew exactly what Alphard wanted. He could deduce after the short intake into Alphard’s mind with Legilimency that he knew something about the 'Dark Order'. But Riddle wasn’t about to let a naïve, insecure First year in, unless perhaps they proved to be an exceptional asset.

Not the least bit brow-beaten, Alphard Black just casted a crazy smile, his eyes lit up and he laughed sycophantically.

The line was just about approaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class in the corridor, with Riddle bringing up the flank. He could finally see them off to Professor Merrythought's supervision and go back to his business.

Riddle turned around to go in the opposite direction. When his eyes lit up, slightly annoyed. Alphard Black, was looking right up into his face, and now tapped his shoulder.

He asked with incessant eagerness, the insane smile still plastered on, "So, Riddle are you pureblood"?

Riddle made an obscene hand gesture, showing the ring on his right middle-finger. “What do call this, Black?”

“Er…a finger..." Alphard said sarcastically.

“Peverell coat of arms! A pure-blood symbol. If you ever do research you’ll see how revered that is. This…ring is also a reminder of some dear activities of mine. None of which concern you. Do I make myself plain?”

Alphard suddenly said to the prefect flippantly, "Yes, sir!", Believing he was off the hook, Alphard returned to his crazy smile.

“To wipe that smile off and for the rudeness, I’m arranging you detention...." said Riddle. "A detention with the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle this Saturday,” he added omniously.

Turning to leave Riddle finished, “My personal life is out of bounds…”

His footsteps resounded back down the corridor, as he disappeared.

Alphard crossed his arms and entered his class, stomping angrily for getting detention so soon. He was about a minute late. Yet he still had determined spunk to get into the Dark Order. He just knew that had to be the gang leader!

The next afternoon towards the end of the week on Friday, Sixth years had their first potions lesson of term. They queued up as always at the solid doors, with the torches and candlelight lining the walls of the dungeon corridor.

Tom Riddle strode in a sublime fashion into the classroom, carrying a copy of Advanced Potion Making, once the doors opened to Professor Slughorn’s classroom.

He skirted over to the table in the front and center of the room, as he had nearly always done since learning potions. It was for the natural reason, that it would be quicker to get ingredients and be more efficient. Tom also preferred the front in this class so that fellow classmates would not see what he was doing and copy his rather more talented technique to potion-making.

Eileen, demurely followed Riddle to the same table. Riddle did not take much notice, but seemed much more interested in whatever Slughorn had in mind for the students.

Slughorn had been traversing towards the front desk, wiping sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. It was a hot day, even for September. But despite, the coolness of the dungeons, it did not seem to cool Horace off. He waited patiently as less than ten students got themselves settled and their books out, if they weren’t already.

The three Ravenclaws chose their own table, as did the two Hufflepuffs and two Gryffindors.

“Well…even for N.E.W.T standard, it’s a smaller size than other years. All the better for all of you to learn and amass more knowledge,” Slughorn addressed the nine sixth years.

Eileen was quite glad that the two other followers in Riddle’s year including Rabastan Lestrange did not make it to the advanced level. She thought, since they were together sharing the table, Tom and herself could work like a team.

“I hope you’ve all been intrigued by the potion that’s in each cauldron at your tables. Does anyone know of it? Observe its mother of pearl sheen and the characteristic spirals undulating…Well?”

People stared intently at the potion and then looked around bewildered. They did not know what powerful effect it was exactly, but there was definitely something special about this potion, as some people noticed savory odors.

Tom Riddle did not immediately register what it was. He was certainly intrigued by this potion though and surprised there was still a potion he did not about that was already invented.

Eileen timidly answered, slowly raising her hand, “A love potion, professor?”

“Yes, it is,” Slughorn heartily replied. “The mother of all love potions...Yes...Amortentia will certainly create a powerful infatuation, an obsession.”

Meanwhile Tom Riddle was eyeing it with slight disgust mixed with shrewdness. He recalled back to the night he killed the Riddles and what that conversation he’d eavesdropped on had been about.

This must have been the potion my mother gave to Tom Riddle Senior to woo him, he deduced savagely, biting back anger. He hated this potion, not just for what it represented but for that other reason as well and he sincerely hoped he wouldn’t be expected to brew it.

Eileen breathing in from the cauldron in front, loquaciously commented, “Mhhm...There’s a scent of pine…and pomegranate, no blood mixed with-” She was suddenly giggling profusely, and instinctively looked at Riddle, blushing madly.

Nearly everyone reacted distastefully towards Eileen’s little recitation, as to them those smells did not sound quite seductive. Pine reminded Eileen of the wood on Stonewall Estate, where she’d lived all her life. Pomegranate, of a wine at social occasions and blood, was something she subconsciously connected with Riddle from all the times they had used blood in the Dark Order proceedings.

Slughorn laughed, his walrus mustache curling, “It’s what attracts you, Eileen. To everyone it’s smells differently. That’s the beauty of it.”

Luckily, nobody seemed to notice that an element of what attracted her, concerned the boy beside her.

Riddle was now smirking at the potion, but also eyeing it in a new light. Tom could smell things that reminded him of fond memories, that he cherished most. Like Eileen there was some blood in it, mixed with the most rotten smell of corpses like the Riddles and possibly the animals he’d killed as a child and also something Riddle could not quite place tangibly, except more a feeling. It was a smell that gave a feeling of absolute power and control, something he was always craving.

“Of course, love potions are a subject we avoid at Hogwarts. But even though, it only manufactures artificial love, yes artificial love. Yet I wouldn't underestimate it. Amortentia is potentially one of the most lethal you’ll ever see…Yes, it is,” Slughorn reacted to several scoffs of criticism in the room.

After a few more seconds, Slughron clapped his thick hands briskly, “But for this lesson, you're going to make veritaserum. A rather more simple potion than others in the text, which we’ll tackle at a later date. Something a little easier, to get the cobwebs out of your brain from the summer….Now clear away the amortentia samples.“

Horace, assuming everyone knew how to do so, watched confidently.

Riddle gladly took the initiative and hissed, “Evanesco!” while aiming his wand at the potion, siphoning it away, sucked magically into oblivion.

“Turn to page 43 in your copy of Advanced Potion Making,” Slughorn announced.

Everybody did as he asked and then he continued, “Obviously this cauldron in front is a sample of veritaserum. A clear, odorless, colorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth. It will take only an hour and a quarter to brew, but a full moon cycle to mature. Since the new moon-cycle just began it should be ready in only a fortnight.”

“But first, being the exceptional witches and wizards that you are, I want to test your understanding of the truth serum. What can be used against it?”

“Occlumency can, sir,” Riddle answered as soon as Slughorn eyed him.

“Or most antidotes, but of course it’s far too unlikely to have one on hand. But it is true that successfully blocking your mind from intrusion can stave off the effects…now please go to the ingredient cupboard and brew your batch of veritaserum,” Slughorn monolgued.

Eileen and Tom were the first to arrive at the cupboard, Riddle taking out of the drawers what was needed to brew the potion. Veritaserum only required half a dozen ingredients.

“Tom, can you get the dragon’s blood vial for both of us?..and I’ll get the spine of lion-fish and puffer-fish eyes?,” Eileen asked mildly.

Riddle’s lips formed into a tight-line, but he managed a wry smile and a nod.

Walking swiftly back to the table in unison, Eileen and Tom both worked with near equal alacrity, grinding the spine of lionfish until it was a fine powder.

As soon as they were done, Eileen eagerly grabbed her wand and prodded the bottom of Riddle’s cauldron, to ignite flames. Riddle did not know what to make of this help, he had no desire to receive any aid at all.

He decided to just concentrate on dumping an ounce of dragon’s blood into his cauldron with the plain water, after he had sprinkled the heap of spine of lionfish in. He then started to stir it with alacrity.

Eileen soon caught up with him, after poring over her book at page 43, for the third time, being extra careful to get it right.

In a minute Slughorn made a guttural enunciation from the back, “You should be adding the belladona.”

That was precisely what Eileen and Tom and most of the class were doing, except for a few stragglers.

Adding belladonna, a yellowish creamy liquid was a very slow process. Only an ounce at a time and between each ounce, it had to be stirred for about a minute.

“Professor Slughorn!,” Eileen suddenly spoke and continued as if with sagacity, “I just realized if me and Tom add our concoctions together, it equates to one whole and ready solution as we each have half of the belladonna so far. I would like us to do that…May we?”

Slughorn’s eyes popped open, and his mouth wobbled from incredulity, shaking his head, “My dear, why on earth would you want to?....You and Tom are the most talented potion-makers I’ve ever taught. I’d rather see you succeed independently, as that’s the way a fine potion-maker works…their independent spirit!”

“Oh, alright,” Eileen said dejectedly.

She then, glanced at Tom as she was stirring, “Tom, did you ever hear of the song ‘A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love'?”

She had spoken quite loudly and now everybody was perked up, listening. The problem was that Eileen in the front and center of the room, was totally oblivious to how strange everyone else thought she was behaving.

Riddle in a constrained voice said, “No, I didn’t, Eileen.”

Eileen rattled on impetuously, “Oh, Tom! It reminds me of us. I thought if we put our potions together it would be like we’re joined in a union of some sort.”

Just about finished, Riddle was transferring his veritaserum solution into a vial, but his hand shook at Eileen’s strange words. He did not retaliate , as he naturally wanted to have the appearance that he was kind, and not to use vindictive words against Eileen in front of an entire class.

A moment later, Slughorn announced, “The solution needs to soak for thirty minutes. And while it is maturing for the next fortnight, it can never see any sunlight or it will become contaminated.”

Slughorn, saw Riddle dotting with his quill his initials, (TMR) as Eileen followed him a few seconds later. “I see you're both finished. Well done, Tom. I’m sure it was brewed perfectly.”

“Thank-you, sir.” Riddle said in an unusually refined voice.

“In October we’ll be tackling the draught of the living dead, one of the most fascinating potions ever.”

Riddle handed his vial to Slughorn and so did Eileen. The Potion master happily went and placed them in the storage closet across the room.

Riddle ensconced on the workbench with Eileen.

Everybody laced up their bags after putting away their textbooks and potion kits and standard size two-pewter cauldrons.

Most people went to mill towards the back of the dungeon. Slughorn had not returned from the storeroom walking closet. Since he had not returned, most of the class did not think it permissible to go, without the teacher dismissing the class.

Riddle, his chin in his hand, watched the direction Horace had left. He seemed to be waiting for the Potions Master to return as well.

Eileen was staring at Tom with great longing, that was at once quite intense and passionate. At that moment, she desired desperately for Tom to pay some kind of attention to her. But Riddle seemed to have forgotten all about what she said earlier about Celestina’s Warbeck’s latest song lyric.

Eileen surmised that Tom had other things on his mind, that were far more important, and she did not relish the fact at all.

A queasiness suspended inside, Eileen started speaking, “Tom…How about I ask Slughorn to let me keep some of the veritaserum? Or I could even make you it. I bet you'd like that!?”

Jerked out of his reverie, Riddle responded in a low tirade, “It’s not like I can’t brew it myself, you fool. Nor do I have reason to assign you that task, Eileen. And even if I did have veritaserum, I wouldn’t wish you to know. For after this lesson, I don’t trust your…mental faculties.”

Tears now in her eyes, yet managing diplomatically she offered, “What? But even Slughorn said I’m as- almost as good as you, Tom. Of course you can brew it. But it’s for my pleasure in doing you the favor.”

Eileen did not realize what Riddle meant by the lack of trust. It wasn’t magical skill, but rather her ranting, to a rapt audience earlier.

With an impatient, loftiness Riddle continued, “Excuse me? Your pleasure, Eileen?...I’ll remind you my rules…when I deal with you later …”

“What does that mean? Could you please be straight-forward?,” she timidly questioned.

Hesitating, Riddle’s eyes gleamed, and then his lips parted in a reassuring smile.

“Well, I’m just as eager to call a premier meeting of the Dark Order as you are to go to one…But for now there is nothing more I have to say,” he whispered calmly.

Then glancing towards the back, Eileen intuitively interpreted that as a signal to leave him, which she did.

Springing from the table , a spin of dizziness surged through, and the tears still there, ceased to fall. Heaving her books like a heavy cross, Eileen stumbled to the exit, all the other students having just left.

Eileen thought desperately on how to brew love potions, and moments later a stroke of insight of where to get the source of information came. Eileen needed an alternative route, for of course, the subject of love potions was not in the Hogwarts library.

Now that the potions classroom was deserted, Tom Riddle went towards the storeroom in a swift rush to pursue Professor Slughorn.

Down the lines of shelves, towards the end, was Horace, busy organizing the contents.

Hearing somebody enter, Horace looked up and relaxed at the sight of Tom Riddle.

“Is there anything you need, Tom?”

Riddle struggled on deciding whether to invent a likely scenario, but lightly answered, "No, professor".

Slughorn continued to smile as Riddle approached the other end of the storeroom.

Tom started contributing his help, simply alphabetizing varieties of herbs.

Uncorking a few bottles and checking they were full, Slughorn spoke again, “That young lady, Eileen Prince sure enjoys your company.”

It was said in an offhand casual way, but Riddle couldn’t prevent his slight distasteful reaction. His hands shook as he dropped the last clump of herbs in the proper box.

Slughorn did not see this, as he was too busy examining the potion bottles.

“Yes, well…I know all about her,” Riddle commented dismissively.

He did not want to dwell on that earlier incident. It was something Tom regretted and he hoped Slughorn was going to forget it.

Riddle paused, and out of respect waited for Slughorn to make a last check of the storeroom.

Slughorn turned expectantly, putting his undivided attention on his favorite pupil.

Breaking the silence with sangfroid smoothness: “I’m excited about the curriculum for sixth year. For more advanced study of magic, I mean. And I'm curious about the potion we’re doing next month…the Draught of the Living Dead. Has it anything to do with the Dark Arts, sir?”

But Riddle knew perfectly well that this particular potion had nothing directly to do with dark magic.

“Deeply impressed…Most wonderfully impressed by your insight, Tom! Why, your ability to discern the broadest, most elaborate concepts before I even teach them,” Slughorn said with boastful pride.

“Er…about the subject of the Dark Arts…,” Riddle prompted cautiously.

“Oh, Yes. Yes. The draught has more of a counter effect, in direct opposition to dark magic even though it applies a similar theory, as you will observe in class, Tom. I very much doubt anyone will succeed the first time, except for you.”

Riddle merely smiled at that compliment about himself.

“I’ll be sure to come around and chat again sometime, professor. Thank-you for clearing that up for me,” Riddle said sounding positively cheerful.

“Anytime, my boy,” Slughorn said with a wave of his hand, heading in the direction of his office.

Riddle turned back towards the classroom to leave, his fingers stretched out and his hands shaking with an odd eagerness. He couldn’t wait until the day he would find out how to make a horcrux! As long as he crafted a strategy, in gradual steps, he would wheedle the answer out of this wizard, whom Tom knew had some knowledge in the area. It would take a few weeks, to work up to the day when it would be ripe to ask about horcruxes.