Tom Riddle and the Pureblood Prince

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Continuation and final part of….


Chapter Twenty-four: Brewing Amortentia


Eileen slammed the bathroom door shut; glad she found a convenient place to be alone. Now that all the ingredients were procured, it would not take long to make the potion. Eileen had managed to steal the ingredients from Slughorn’s private cupboard.

She sat down on the hard floor and popped open a flask, pouring something into the cauldron of boiling water.

She took up her stirring rod, but before she could get too far, a transparent figure came floating towards her. Eileen saw this out of the corner of her eye and frowned. She’d forgotten that this had been Myrtle’s favourite haunt in life and obviously it had not changed with her death.

“Ooh, who are you brewing the love potion for?”

“Nobody. Fine, I’ll tell you. I’m going to give this to a boy because I want him to take me to the dance.”

Myrtle’s face fell. “A school dance,” and she pouted. “I never, ever went to one of those. If only I was living….But nobody would have asked me!”

Myrtle started to wail, and Eileen snapped, “Shut-up! I need to concentrate.”

Myrtle stopped her crying and grinned sheepishly at Eileen. Eileen suddenly felt sorry for her, for look what death had done for her. It had brought her nothing besides a transformation into a ghost.

“If you can stop your carrying on and let me make the love potion in peace….I’ll talk to you later, Myrtle. Okay?”

Myrtle dabbed the non-physical spots on her uniform with a handkerchief and nodded. Eileen consulted behemoth sized tome propped open before her. Her father had sent her, “Encyclopedia of Magical Remedies” by Owl after her request a couple of months earlier in term. Underlining some key phrases she went back to work.

“Oh, I almost forgot! How could I,” she said after several minutes. Eileen had noticed something on the copious notes she had taken. She had known it would not be an easy feat to create the most powerful love potion in the world.

“What did you forget?” asked Myrtle.

“To take into consideration the boy’s weight. For determining the quantities, it is vital for the potion’s efficacy.”

“Right,” said Myrtle with a sour deposition. “Potions and Transfiguration were always my least favourite subjects. I preferred History of Magic, I could remember loads and loads of stuff.”

“That’s nice.” Said Eileen, not really listening. But suddenly Eileen had a question, “Myrtle what’s it like to be – you know – not living?”

“Well…” Myrtle’s voice became small and she was whispering. “At first it was scary. Really scary, but then it wasn’t so bad.” Myrtle laughed, “I’m happy as I’ll ever be. Right here in this bathroom.”

Eileen looked doubtful at this, but decided it would be too much to ask any more probing questions. She felt an enormous sense of guilt, knowing she’d been there when Myrtle was killed and not telling her what had happened. She went back to grinding ingredients with the pestle, and then dumped them, transferring from the mortar into the cauldron.

Eileen took out of her robes a small bottle full of a ruby-red liquid. She opened it carefully, and took a couple of sips from it. Cautiously, she checked how many mili-liters were in there, because if she took too much the effects could be lethal. She understood this, but as long as she had the Elixir everything would be fine….

Myrtle of course wanted to know what it was. Eileen decided to be honest, who would she tell anyway? “It’s an Elixir of Youth.”

Myrtle chortled away at this, poking a finger at Eileen. Eileen stared back crossly; she did not find this funny. “Ha. Ha. I guess you’re afraid to get old before you die!”

“Yes,” said Eileen calmly. “You were too afraid to die, so you became a ghost. And I am afraid of getting old before I die.”

It took a couple of hours, but soon enough Eileen had finished the potion, coloured a milky, pearl-white sheen with the characteristic spirals floating up the surface. It would take two weeks to reach enough potency. That was just enough for it to ready in time for the ball. It would be perfect. Riddle would be forced by the Potion to take her to the dance. Eileen knew she was playing with fire, but she had to do this.

*

Eileen was finishing up on her prefect duties for the evening, when she decided to do one last reconnaissance of the Great Hall. She checked the huge double doors leading to the Great Hall; Eileen shivered at the memory of the message sprawled there in blood on Halloween. She felt a horror concerning what Riddle could do to people without their knowledge.

All was quiet in the Great Hall. Shards of twilight were beaming in from the great arch windows. There was a peaceful lull about the place. Eileen went to check in on the Staff room. Sometimes students could be up to things in places that they shouldn’t be.

The Staff room was empty. Eileen softly shut the door and went further down the corridor. She plodded slowly through the cramped Awards room, glad to be alone. The many trophies, certificates, and other accolades shone in the meager light.

There was something wrong about the room though. It seemed alive with something Eileen could not see, but she felt it intuitively. And then she heard a resounding, unmistakable creak. Somebody was with her, she just knew it. “That’s the same rancorous perfume you wore to class.”

Eileen gasped, back ramrod straight from adrenaline shooting through her veins. Riddle had appeared literally out of thin air. Apparently, he’d been standing there invisible.

“My Lord! – I – Did you finish up your hall monitoring?”

“Of course.”

Eileen moved instinctively around the room. She didn’t want to be caught in his traps any more than necessary.

Eileen found the situation to be very strange especially when she caught the discrepancy in Riddle’s itinerary. “I thought you were doing the South end of the castle. What are you doing here?”

“Checking up on your end. That’s all.” He sounded casual, but Eileen wasn’t fooled. Instead she was stiff with fear.

“While I’m glad you’ve noticed my perfume…I’m sure you’re aware I wear it to attract you, My Lord. And it is NOT rancorous!”

“I was only joking, Eileen. Where is your sense of humour?”

She saw something peculiar in Riddle’s hands, his long fingers wrapped around a thin vial, filled with a pearly liquid strand.

“What- what are you doing with that vial? Why would you bring it to the Trophy room?”

Riddle stared down at the vial, held at his midriff as he contemplated it. Eileen could barely breathe, she knew he was on the verge of disclosing something.

“It’s a memory, Eileen. Did you ever hear of a Pensieve?”

“Yes, I do know what one is.”

Riddle tapped the tube with the sharp nail of his index finger. It made a little clinking sound, which only amplified Eileen’s horror at what he said, “Nobody will ever know what I’ve used this room for. But it’s been highly convenient. I’ve worked my special magic on them, and then recorded all the deeds in this special room!”

Eileen quaked and shook. She could keel over this was so unsettling. “What are you talking about - who?”

Riddle took a step closer to Eileen, so that they stood with just a couple feet between them. He looked her straight in her eyes, “Girls. Girls. And boys too.”

Eileen felt anger and disgust. “What – what?”

“All of it is stored in the trophy room. And then I take little keepsakes of their belongings. And sometimes I go inside and watch myself with them. What a pleasure it is!”

“Just how many girlfriends do you have, Tom?! I mean – My Lord?”

Riddle laughed a hollow echo that faded to black in the room and it got it eerily quiet. He whispered manipulatively, “Now don’t get jealous, dear. There’s nobody you can report this to or otherwise, you’d disobey the Order and die!”

“I know. I know, My Lord.” Eileen was certainly aware of her Vows and what breaking them meant.

For a brief moment Riddle thought of the fact that he had no need for company, other than his servants. Lord Voldemort would never be tethered to another person. He’d always, ultimately be alone. Then Eileen interrupted his thoughts. “Just how many of them have you kissed?” She was desperate for information. She felt like she was being cheated on. But she was learning the hard way that with Lord Voldemort there was nothing to trust and neither did he have an understanding of loyalty.

“It’s a lot more fun than snogging,” stated Riddle bluntly. “And none of them will ever remember what I’ve done to them!”

Emotionless, from shock, she questioned, “You modify their memory?”

Riddle nodded quickly. “Eileen – since we’ve broached the subject, I have something to ask you. No, it as an order. You’re going to the ball with me. Lucky girl! As a couple. But only for the night…After that our relationship remains platonic” he added sternly. He didn’t want her getting any ideas that this would be prolonged.

Eileen felt dazed, evidently surprised. “Uh – I am? I am!” Her whole outlook had brightened in an instant. “Yes, My Lord.”

But suddenly the thoughts concerning the Amortentia she had waiting, that she planned to sneak into his meal were coming to the surface of her thoughts. She fought as hard as she could in her mind to fend them off, her eyes narrowing, as she blushed deeply.

The situation was fortuitous enough to fall in Eileen’s favour. Riddle didn’t look at her again; otherwise he might have discovered her scheme through Legilimency. He started out of the room and Eileen followed. Eileen could hardly comprehend what Riddle had implied to her. It was too horrific to really understand what she’d seen of that memory he held in the glass vial and all that he’d told her.


*


Back in the Common room on another night, Riddle rehashed the day’s events with Augustus, Avery and Wilkes. They had all finally managed to get dates to the ball.

Avery told them, “Did you hear that Alphard Black kid – you know, the nosy little First year. He had the guts to ask a girl out and she said yes. He’s in First year!”

The boys laughed, Riddle along with them.

Rookwood looked at his master curiously. The others did too. They’d been waiting for awhile now on news on whom Riddle would take to the New Year’s Eve Ball. Yet he’d given them nothing to go on until now. Rookwood asked, “My Lord – Who are you taking to the ball?”

“Eileen Prince,” he said coolly.

All three boys looked stupefied with surprise, they had opinions on her and didn’t think she was the best girl for their Master. Avery raved, “You could have had anyone – anyone! And you choose, Eileen Prince!”


NOTE: The idea of Riddle keeping memories of his sexual victims and storing it in the Trophy room is in my other story, “His Glowing Reputation.” Some of you might have noticed. It would be nice, if you could review!