His Glowing Reputation

Sheherazade: Thanks for your review and you’re right, Riddle won’t ever forget what happened….but he will let it lie…eventually. Say when Voldemort went to Dumbledore about being a DADA teacher fourteen years later when he was almost 31 in 1957, he would not have had this on his mind. Things do tend to blow over even with Voldemort, yet I don’t mean forgiveness, of course.…I imagine Voldemort would downplay it in his mind after awhile (a psychological defense). So instead Riddle would focus his animosity towards Dumbledore for much bigger reasons than a punishment he got from Dumbledore when he was in school.

The three wizards went down the descending spiral stairs, striding in silence away from the headmaster’s quarters and out towards their destinations’.

Dumbledore took a watch out with several planets revolving around the hands. “It is getting late, Horace. Why nearly eight o’clock? As that muggle philosopher said, “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man, healthy, wealthy and wise.” Dumbledore just mistakened Benjamin Franklin, for a philosopher, rather Franklin being a statesman.

Albus glanced sideways at Riddle’s profile, out of curiosity. The boy had not reacted to this comment, except for a slight pursing of his full lips. Tom Riddle despised all muggles, and what was more he could not imagine why a great wizard like Dumbledore thought one of them worthy of quoting their verbatim.

With a whooshing of his onyx robes, Dumbledore scurried along a different corridor to wherever his private room was, located somewhere near the Gryffindor’s tower.

Tom continued along with his head of house, a sour expression on his young face. He was not happy with how he had been punished at Hogwarts and this was the one place he felt at home and even the emotion of contentment. Tom was annoyed with what the repercussions for getting “detention” meant for him in the future. As in the unlikely yet still possible event there was a next time, despite himself being a model for good behavior. He knew that because the teachers wanted him to maintain his perfect, glowing reputation, he would probably get the cane once again instead of what everyone else was getting these days! Still in an odd, twisted way, Riddle could maybe grow to accept his own unusual circumstances of what the consequences of misdeameanors would bring him. Tom Riddle did think himself to be special afterall.

He managed to keep up the pace with Slughorn, as they turned from the main entrance stairs, and then left down towards the dungeons. Yet, Riddle was still in unnerved over what had just happened to him. He tried instead to think about his studies. But suddenly then, he noticed again the glowing sensation of where he had been beaten with that rattan cane by Dumbledore, and he just couldn’t forget it. The unpleasant glowing sensation was fast turning into a blistering bruised soreness.

“Come to my office, Tom. I’ll give you something to put on your…injuries,” Slughorn delicately spoke.

Heat crept up Riddle’s neck; reliving it, even as a verbal reminder with another was particular painful for him.

“No need to feel embarrassed around your old Potions Master. During my schooldays I was caned by then headmaster, Phineas Nigellus. Mind you, then I had one bottom instead of two!” And Slughorn chortled, as he waved his wand to untransfigure the wall to a door.

Riddle’s expression remained stone cold at this joke. It had been hard enough to endure the humility of the punishment, but he did not find the slightest comfort by relating to other people about their similar experiences.

Tom bit his lip and forced himself to sound mild as he spoke ignoring Slughorn’s reminiscing, “Professor Slughorn…What exactly is it that you wish to give me"?

“Just a bit of essence of murtlap, Tom” Slughorn nonchalantly quipped, and his squat frame settled down on one of his footstools, searching the lowest shelves for it.

“No thank-you, sir” spoke Riddle automatically.

Slughorn inclined his jaw up at Riddle standing in back of him and quite grimly said, “Riddle, take my nostalgia for when I was a schoolboy as certain proof: it’s gonna' be hard to sit comfortably for a long time. So you’ll need this.”

Slughorn found the little crock of the liquid and placed it on his desk, as a gesture for Riddle to make his own choice of whether to take it.

Voldemort was about to leave without taking the help from his closest teacher out of pride, when several reasons as to why the murtlap would be advantageous at a later time crossed his mind. He had already ascertained long before that it would be hard to sit down, when he was in the headmaster's office. Yet he didn’t want Dumbledore to see even the slightest hint in Transfiguration class tomorrow, that it was difficult to stay seated. Furthermore, if he did fuck Celeste tomorrow, he didn’t want to risk even the offhand chance that he would wind up explaining to her.

“Alright, then” he consented grabbing the crock, he tore out of the room.

“Anytime for Britain’s future Minister for Magic, my boy!” Horace shouted after Riddle, his head poking out the doorway.

Riddle kept to himself for the rest of that evening, not even talking to his followers. Naturally, he first went to a bathroom inside the Slytherin quarters where he had to pee and then checked his reflection in the corner mirror.

He took off his robes and lowered his pants and glowered at what his backside looked like: dark red streaks striped his bottom along with one on the crevice to his thighs. A few seconds later, he hitched his pants and went back to the toilet, where he rubbed the essence of murtlap into his aching cheeks. After several moments, he couldn’t stand how strange it felt to be relieving himself like this. He wanted to just get some rest and take his mind off it. He threw the crock back in the deep pocket of his robes and went off to his dormitory.



Note: I know…this is weird …I promise the next chapter, which has more of a point and Riddle does get revenge…but not on the person(s) you would logically think. And there is something interesting about the trophy room I’ll be showing…. But don’t you think it’s cool to see a vulnerable Tom Riddle? All in one fic…he is late for an exam, gets “detention”, gets slapped by a girl, embarrassed, even mention that despite being Voldy, he does go to the bathroom and the boy Riddle experiences the pain of corporal punishment. I still think my fic is realistic. Do you?