The Head Boy's Secretary

Thanks for your continued interest to whomever does read this story.


Continuation of:


Chapter Twenty-One: Secret of the Darkest Art


Our heroine made it alive, still dragged at the neck of her robes. She kicked and sobbed all the way, a mounting terror building inside. Could he be prolonging this all, and just waiting to kill her?

As soon as the two were in, the Head Boy moved, and with great presence of mind his acute eyesight swept the scene. Blood was spattered on the walls and floor, and the astrolabe was destroyed. Books, papers, scrolls, quills and files were scattered.

Alice watched and quailed to still see that livid expression there.

So the diary was safe. Riddle could almost breathe a sigh of relief. Then instantly he saw that the other precious object was amiss. The ring!

Like lightening, his frame darted to the experimentation counter. Riddle turned back, glaring, towards the girl. She still lay huddled on the ground.

He raised a hellish uproar, in a hoarse tone that did not sound like the charming voice that belonged to that of Tom Riddle. “Where is the ring? Where did you put my ring?!”

“I didn’t t-take it!”

Riddle raised his wand, and in reply boomed, “I TOLD you not to lie, girl!”

“PLEASE! I swear I didn’t take it,” Alice shrilled. She wasn’t brave enough to admit to actually losing it though.

His wand poised, but Riddle was not quite ready to use the torture curse. “ACCIO RING!”

The ring came forth, zooming through the air and landed swiftly to encircle Riddle’s left middle finger. He smiled with smug satisfaction. In a dark tone, low, and dangerous, he said “The ring has returned to me in the same condition of which I had left it. Consider yourself lucky…on that score.”

He strode closer. No longer quite so enraged, but still mad. “Rise. Get yourself together! Tell me everything.”

Alice refused to do this, and looked up at him, imploringly as if to say she was harmless. But it was too late, it was obvious she was a danger to his secrets.

On wobbling feet, Alice complied. Riddle grabbed her wrist and made her stand before his desk. He took an hourglass out, full of black sand. Alice stared at this morbid little contraption, and thought the hourglass to be counting down her moments left to live. Suddenly it seemed every heartbeat was so precious.

In a voice not quite steady, she heard him say, “You know too much. I give you one minute to confess of what you know. One minute. Give me your full account of events. But if you choose to hold anything back, I shall kill you!”

Alice did not doubt this. But was glad that for once it was her turn to talk.

But he knew he didn’t wish to kill Ms. Whitman tonight. It was just that he was so furious and unsettled by this news that this arbitrary warning burst out.

His dark eyes gleamed with ferocity, not once wavering their gaze from Miss Alice. Alice spoke as if on the stand, keeping her voice level. Like a snake Voldemort could smell the fear on her perspiring body, and it infuriated him more. What knowledge was she hiding?

The hourglass was flipped over to its inverted end, and the sands started falling. “I've been curious about you since the beginning. It started when I saw those b-boys - men kissing your ring. I wanted to know what you were doing with them, and then you gave me messages to copy. I knew they were encrypted. At the dance, I met Alphard Black-“

“Did he tell you anything?”

“No, m-master. He did not!”

“Continue then…”

“Well, I. Oh, please don’t punish me more! I had to sort it out. So I’ve been going through your stuff. And you know, that I know that you’ve cursed me! You said so yourself to my face. So I wanted to break the curse, and I failed. I also suspect you to be a killer. In fact, know it to be true! You’re a murderer. I went looking again this afternoon and found a book on…oh, dear! What was the word? That’s right! Horcruxes!”

Riddle’s face quaked to see another person boldly proclaim this. He couldn't believe this was happening. Still, he would stifle that knowledge soon.

He watched with astonishment as Alice pointed a finger accusatorily, as if this was the medieval era and he was an errant sorcerer on trial for witchcraft. “You made that Horcrux with the ring! And another one with your diary!”

“I don’t deny it!”

“Also….I came across queer drawings. Of a cave. And shriveled, ugly bodies. I see that you are following Grindelwald’s path and intend to make Inferi!”

“True. But I shall go above and beyond Grindelwald’s numbers!....What else have you to confess?!"

"I know you seek to destroy something. What is it? I saw the golden lights in this room today." Alice dropped to a whisper, and admitted what the unthinkable, unspeakable terrible truth. These things called Horcruxes resulted in the most heinous crime there was: homicide. "Creation always results in the destruction, or changing the form of something else. Could it be that you seek to destroy your soul?"

Riddle did not answer. He wasn't ready, and would rather hold back.

"You. Will. Never. Die," she whispered slowly.

It wasn't quite accurate, it was still possible to die but even Voldemort felt the truth was too painful. The horcruxes could be destroyed, and subsequently he could be killed someday. But that reality was too painful for Voldemort to think about.

"The Horcruxes will keep me safe and yes, protect me until the end of time. I shall never have to endure the dangers of the world again."

Time seemed to have slowed. The hourglass had run out several moments ago. The black sands receding peaceably to the bottom.

The Head Boy's mood was improving, he seemed more collected, his usual unfeeling self. His passionate anger was dissolved. He looked about and spoke his decision. "I am going to allow you to live. Until the day I board the Hogwarts express, you remain my Secretary."

Alice tried hard not to beam a smile up at her master. And instead hung her head with humble humility.

"You will clean this place of the blood. Do your best to repair my equipment and put my books in order."

"Yes, sir..." Alice said automatically.

"Yes, Master!," he snapped back. "Make short work of it, girl!"

Alice jumped to her feet. She daren't refuse to clean again like she'd once snapped at him that she wasn't a House-elf. He could kill, or torture and abuse if pushed to it. Again, there was no need to be forced by the Imperius Curse into sexual acts.

On hands and knees, she got to washing the blood clean of the study. She scourgified every drop, which proved to be hard work, because blood had seeped into so many spaces. She swallowed hard, thinking again that he was a killer and felt nauseated. Figuratively, the stain of murder most certainly stained his sleeves. And this was most ominously her blood. It was her blood inside the jar that was smashed. The fact to be washing her own blood of the place seemed to foretell that he would kill her in the future.

He breathed down her neck, his presence always like a drafty wind. There was something so unstable about him. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

After a moment, Riddle tired of observing her.

Peripherally, she got a glimpse of him taking out several bottles of blood. Alice ascertained they must be from the mudbloods who had been enchanted to attack each other earlier. Riddle did not yet know she had seen this. Or did he? He might have delved that far into her head already.

Alice shivered. One never knew just how much Master Riddle knew. But everybody knew his knowledge was expansive and extensive, more than sufficient for a Seventh year. His knowledge could not be beat, by none except one professor. Professor Dumbledore, of course.

Riddle stalked up and down the counter, lined with dozens of potions, poisons and blood samples. So he'd taken the Muggle-borns blood for study. It was Magical Eugenics all over again.

With fascinated, predatory eyes Riddle compared the blood samples. He looked fascinated at discovering what was inside a mudblood as opposed to a pureblood. There was a thrill there, a longing to know how it worked that a pureblood could pass on their magical powers much easier than a Muggle-born.

It took awhile, but both of them finished their duties.

”Master...Perhaps you are as far along advanced as old Nicolas Flamel? Are you after a sorcerer's stone?"

"No," he answered without hesitation. And explicated imperiously, "I do not need to procure the stone to be immortal."

"But you're obsessed with living forever! If not the sorcerer's stone, what is it?"

"I have told you. Horcruxes."

"I still don't understand...."

Riddle just stood there, contemplating. He had some newfound respect for Alice Whitman. She had after all, come close to the truth. Closer than anybody else.

He spoke his thoughts aloud, "So you have discovered that I am immortal by means of Horcruxes. But I have not shown you how it is so."

Alice felt eager to learn and to know. She was still curious about him. Riddle stepped over to what appeared to be an empty stone basin.

He tapped his wand, and a pensieve appeared there. Alice remembered falling deep inside and she had shown him some of her most personal childhood memories. Could it be possible that now he was going to show his private life to her?


NOTE: This is getting close to the end.