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The Head Boy's Secretary
folder
HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
29
Views:
15,234
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
29
Views:
15,234
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I am not making any money and I am not profiting from this story. I do not own Harry Potter or any related things. No money and no profit off of this.
Detention from the Head Boy
Chapter Six: Detention from the Head Boy
Alice had a sinking sensation all day Saturday, the closer she got to seven o’clock, and the worse it got to endure. She would not go near the Restricted Section until the last possible moment, for she did not want to drag this out any further than she had to.
The atmosphere only confirmed Alice’s trepidation. Somehow, Tom Riddle’s study seemed much more cramped than before. It was drafty too, and the only light was from candles, casting gloomy shadows to accompany them.
Riddle was standing, his black robes opened, with a silver pocket watch hanging off his waistcoat. His hand went to consult it. “Miss Alice, you are very nearly late….Be it known that I do not allow tardiness.”
He hesitated to continue with whatever else he had to say, and Alice felt her courage mount. “I’m sorry, Tom. About everything, I guess.”
He ignored this, and went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “As this is detention…you will call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Riddle’ at all times.”
Alice didn’t like this command at all. She resisted the urge to protest. She wanted to scream at him, “You are not my teacher!” But she knew that younger students almost always addressed the upper echelon formally, and she had already gotten away with calling him ‘Tom’ for awhile.
Riddle lingered, waiting for her response. Alice had been staring hard at the floor, mulling this over. She looked straight at his face and said what he wanted to hear, “Yes, Sir.”
“As I said yesterday, this detention shall change the ways of your thinking. Emotion does not have true power to producing magic, Alice. I intend to make this quite clear to you this evening. Emotions are for weak people.”
Alice confidently interpreted what he meant. “Well of course they are for weaker people. Sometimes. Who wouldn’t call jealously and say… hatred a weakness?”
“Firstly, when I am speaking, you shall not interrupt me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“As I was saying….Emotions are obsolete. Always were and always will remain so. That includes all emotions, whether they are to your benefit or against them….”
He paused for a reaction. “Mr. Riddle – I have a question….” He nodded, bored but letting her continue. “What about happiness – what about love?”
“Love…” he said faintly, as if he hadn’t uttered the word. “Love is an irrelevance. It is merely those who are deluded that think they are acting on it. And certainly, ‘love’ if it existed at all, would have no power in the kinds of magic I engage in.”
“W-what kind of magic is that?”
“The most advanced forms of magic, Miss Alice. And let me assure you, of all my experimenting, love has no consequence to it’s effects. Love cannot produce magic….”
“I still think it might,” said Alice in a tiny voice.
She shouldn’t have said this. She did not know it, but this intellectual dispute was really setting him off.
“And because of that, we will get straight to what you shall endure this evening.” Now Riddle’s voice conveyed an absolute temerity, determined to squash her beliefs. The beliefs he couldn’t bear to even tolerate when it happened to be somebody he needed to associate with.
Alice watched Riddle move to his desk, where he retrieved a long feathered quill.
“Come…We shall set you to your punishment. Line-writing.”
Alice breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad, and it was a normal duty to be assigned for a detention. She felt relief that she wasn’t going to be whipped or chained up like she had feared.
Alice sat down at her usual seat, with Riddle standing, close over her shoulders.
“Love has no power. Write it seven-hundred times.”
Alice huffed sarcastically, stunned by this dictation. “What? Are you kidding, Tom? Sorry – I meant Sir!”
“This is no joke, Alice. Unless you wish for a much harsher, more painful time here tonight, do it!”
So Alice set to writing the lines. For the first one, Riddle watched Alice write in her most legible penmanship, from above she felt Riddle’s sharp glare. Once he saw her doing it right, he went back to his studies. Alice wondered if he ever did anything else besides attend class, and study. “He’s a stiff, horrible boy,” she thought. “He can’t get his perfect nose off the grindstone. I don’t even really like him anymore!”
NOTE: The detention scene is not over.
Alice had a sinking sensation all day Saturday, the closer she got to seven o’clock, and the worse it got to endure. She would not go near the Restricted Section until the last possible moment, for she did not want to drag this out any further than she had to.
The atmosphere only confirmed Alice’s trepidation. Somehow, Tom Riddle’s study seemed much more cramped than before. It was drafty too, and the only light was from candles, casting gloomy shadows to accompany them.
Riddle was standing, his black robes opened, with a silver pocket watch hanging off his waistcoat. His hand went to consult it. “Miss Alice, you are very nearly late….Be it known that I do not allow tardiness.”
He hesitated to continue with whatever else he had to say, and Alice felt her courage mount. “I’m sorry, Tom. About everything, I guess.”
He ignored this, and went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “As this is detention…you will call me ‘Sir’ or ‘Mr. Riddle’ at all times.”
Alice didn’t like this command at all. She resisted the urge to protest. She wanted to scream at him, “You are not my teacher!” But she knew that younger students almost always addressed the upper echelon formally, and she had already gotten away with calling him ‘Tom’ for awhile.
Riddle lingered, waiting for her response. Alice had been staring hard at the floor, mulling this over. She looked straight at his face and said what he wanted to hear, “Yes, Sir.”
“As I said yesterday, this detention shall change the ways of your thinking. Emotion does not have true power to producing magic, Alice. I intend to make this quite clear to you this evening. Emotions are for weak people.”
Alice confidently interpreted what he meant. “Well of course they are for weaker people. Sometimes. Who wouldn’t call jealously and say… hatred a weakness?”
“Firstly, when I am speaking, you shall not interrupt me.”
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
“As I was saying….Emotions are obsolete. Always were and always will remain so. That includes all emotions, whether they are to your benefit or against them….”
He paused for a reaction. “Mr. Riddle – I have a question….” He nodded, bored but letting her continue. “What about happiness – what about love?”
“Love…” he said faintly, as if he hadn’t uttered the word. “Love is an irrelevance. It is merely those who are deluded that think they are acting on it. And certainly, ‘love’ if it existed at all, would have no power in the kinds of magic I engage in.”
“W-what kind of magic is that?”
“The most advanced forms of magic, Miss Alice. And let me assure you, of all my experimenting, love has no consequence to it’s effects. Love cannot produce magic….”
“I still think it might,” said Alice in a tiny voice.
She shouldn’t have said this. She did not know it, but this intellectual dispute was really setting him off.
“And because of that, we will get straight to what you shall endure this evening.” Now Riddle’s voice conveyed an absolute temerity, determined to squash her beliefs. The beliefs he couldn’t bear to even tolerate when it happened to be somebody he needed to associate with.
Alice watched Riddle move to his desk, where he retrieved a long feathered quill.
“Come…We shall set you to your punishment. Line-writing.”
Alice breathed a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad, and it was a normal duty to be assigned for a detention. She felt relief that she wasn’t going to be whipped or chained up like she had feared.
Alice sat down at her usual seat, with Riddle standing, close over her shoulders.
“Love has no power. Write it seven-hundred times.”
Alice huffed sarcastically, stunned by this dictation. “What? Are you kidding, Tom? Sorry – I meant Sir!”
“This is no joke, Alice. Unless you wish for a much harsher, more painful time here tonight, do it!”
So Alice set to writing the lines. For the first one, Riddle watched Alice write in her most legible penmanship, from above she felt Riddle’s sharp glare. Once he saw her doing it right, he went back to his studies. Alice wondered if he ever did anything else besides attend class, and study. “He’s a stiff, horrible boy,” she thought. “He can’t get his perfect nose off the grindstone. I don’t even really like him anymore!”
NOTE: The detention scene is not over.