Chapter Text
Part One
For what felt like the millionth time this evening, Tom found himself staring down at an over-eager young woman. This particular one was a Hufflepuff— rare enough that happened— and came to just about his chin. She was pretty, if a little plump, and batted lashes framing large brown eyes as she smiled nervously.
“What you are proposing is against the rules, Miss Hornby. Surely you know that?” he said gently. Of course, the girl could hardly know rules were the last reason Tom refused her generous offer. It was one of the more forward of the night, and no doubt the reason Hornby’s cheeks reddened even in the torchlit corridor. The weight of his gaze alone pushed her eyes to the floor. She fingered the pleats of her skirt, apparently at a loss. “Please get back to your dormitory before I am forced to report you. I would so dislike to see such a lovely young woman scrubbing floors or shining trophies.”
Finally, after a moment of dark eyes staring into warm, the girl relented. “Well, maybe I’ll see you the next Hogsmeade weekend?” she whined.
“Oh, I’m sure.” His smile seemed genuine enough, and she soon stepped away, walking in the direction of the kitchens.
Tom waited until the sound of her light steps echoing through the empty corridors faded and turned to continue his rounds. There was a specific reason he was in this part of the castle, and it wouldn’t do for Elyssa Hornby to find out. Her sister Olive (a Ravenclaw) was a dreadful gossip, and this would damage the reputation of some of his people. In Slytherin, a reputation was as important as family name.
He was fairly sure they’d be right around here. Not this little alcove. Perhaps… Yes. There was a slight groan behind a statue of Saint George with sword held aloft.
“You know,” he drawled, “This might be why you both keep falling asleep in History. While Binns may not care, your grades certainly reflect your lack of rest.”
“Shit!” The sounds of scrambling clothes and shuffling feet were followed by the appearance of two young men. Nott was flushed from their activities, steadily avoiding the gaze of his smaller companion. Avery’s tie was still undone and he’d skipped a button on his shirt. They were hopeless.
“Er, hi there, Tom.” Avery grinned up at him, which had the effect of making his fellow sixth-year student look about thirteen. Avery’s guileless, boyish charm was an asset in dealing with those of a suspicious disposition. In fact, the boy didn’t even have to try using it. He was a natural.
He shook his head at the two of them. “We have a perfectly good dorm. It’s not as though Lestrange and Black would notice, especially if you put up a simple silencing charm.” One dark brow rose pointedly. “Unless, of course, the risk is part of the appeal?”
Nott’s face had just returned to its normal color when it reddened again. “Aw, come off it. We get it, Tom, we get it.” He grabbed a handful of Avery’s shirt sleeve. “Let’s get back to the dungeons, Freddie.”
“Before you go, see that you are more discrete in your affairs, gentlemen,” Tom said. “I can only do so much to protect you, and should you compromise yourselves for a little fun…” He left the threat unsaid, but the looks on the boys’ faces said they understood. They both nodded and hurried away.
The prefect sighed to himself, idly fingering his wand. The two had yet to prove their usefulness, but at least he could be certain of their loyalty.
--
His two errant followers were absent from breakfast the following morning, having no doubt continued their activities in the intimacy of a four poster bed. As such, Tom decided he would sit behind the pair in the classes where they were most likely to fall asleep. This resulted in him sliding into the back row of seats in their double History session that afternoon.
Professor Binns began droning on as soon as class began despite three students still entering and a few standing beside their seats rather than in them. Tom was, of course, already prepared and began jotting notes inattentively as he kept an eye on Avery and Nott. Within minutes, the fair-haired Alfred’s lashes fluttered shut and he started leaning forward in his seat. Tom jabbed the back of his neck with the tip of his quill, which resulted in a most satisfying yelp as Avery slapped where the sharp point had left a small black mark.
Tom rolled his eyes at Nott’s snort of amusement, and dipped his quill in the ink jar. He was about to scribe down the names and dates of a few battles when something caught his eye.
A seat to the left of Avery was a Ravenclaw who looked to be asleep—her head hung, body slumped, pale brown hair hanging around her slack features. But her hand was scrawling furiously across her parchment, stopping every nine words to ink her quill. Whatever she was writing seemed like an exact pattern. At the end of each short segment, she would skip a line and begin again. Just over two lines and she would repeat again.
Tom leaned forward to try and make out any of the words, but her script was like ants across the off-white paper. He tapped Avery’s shoulder.
“I wasn’t falling asleep, Tom, swear!” hissed the boy.
So melodramatic, he thought. “Switch me seats.”
“What?”
“Switch me,” he said, voice dangerously low. Avery nodded and the two swapped with only Nott’s puzzlement to notice them. The girl’s forearm pushed the parchment forward as she skipped down to the next line, the head of the paper curling over the front edge of the desk.
Closer now, Tom could make out just the tail end of each line. If anything, what he saw raised more questions than they answered. …eat that which He…. How curious. Maybe if he was just a little closer...
As he slowly leaned toward the left, the Ravenclaw pushed the parchment up more to move down to the next line. Unfortunately for her, that was more than the paper could handle and it slid to the floor with the gentlest rustle.
The girl’s quill came down onto the desk without pause and slid across the slick surface. Her forearm came down to follow and she jolted upright. Her eyes snapped open, looked to the black ink marring her skin, at the desk with its smudged ink, coming to rest on the parchment beside her feet. As her head turned, no doubt to see who had noticed her somnolent activities, Tom jotted down a few notes as casually as though his gaze hadn’t been glued to her for the past few minutes.
He could just make out a crinkling as her foot slid the paper within her reach. In his periphery, he saw her lean in the opposite direction and pull the writing back onto her desk, where it stayed for the remainder of the period.
As the class ended, Tom nodded to his followers to head out before him. He slowly packed away his notes, shuffling through some items in his satchel as though they need more organizing. He waited until the girl had finished stuffing everything into her desk, halfway to the head of the room, before he stood. When she reached the door, she crumpled the single piece of parchment into a tight ball and dropped it into the waste basket before leaving.
Tom was the last student to leave. He watched the door click closed and took the parchment out of the receptacle. He had more than enough time before he was expected anywhere, so he straightened out the paper, smoothing long fingers over the wrinkles, and read.
To Fly from Death, He gathers shades round Himself to become His Knights and eat that which He Fears Most. And Fear shall be his Signature and Death shall be his Name. A Dark Lord is born.
To Fly from Death, He gathers shades round Himself to become His Knights…
Fly from Death, Death as his name, Knights around him. Well, now. This was unexpected, and entirely unpleasant.
Tom carefully folded up the paper and placed it in his bag. Avery and Nott were waiting for him just outside the door, but he silenced them with a hand. He needed time to think. What did he know about the Ravenclaw?
She was a Ravenclaw and, thus, intelligent to some degree. Fairly quiet. She never seemed to standout. In fact, Tom couldn’t recall anything particularly noteworthy about her. She rarely answered questions in class, had never been involved in any sordid affairs of the sort to become gossip. No, Elena Vablatsky was as ordinary as the majority of students at Hogwarts.
Except…
It was his third year and his first Arithmancy class. Professor Abernathy was getting to know the students as he took roll. It was alphabetical, so her name was one of the very last.
“Ah, Vablatsky, Elena. Any relation to famed seer, Cassandra Vablatsky?” the professor asked cheerfully.
The small girl colored and murmured, “She’s my mother.”
The wizard clapped his hands together once. “How wonderful! I assume you’re in Divination, then? Can we expect any mysterious visions in class this year?”
“Oh, no, professor,” she said. “I’m afraid I don’t have my mother’s gift.”
There was a beat of awkward silence. “Ah, if you could all turn to page ninety-four and we will get started on theory…”
Daughter of famed seer Cassandra Vablatsky, and she’d said she didn’t have the gift. She’d lied, and hidden this ability for nearly six years, and he’d been none the wiser. Who knew what visions she’d had in that time. If this was any guess, she knew dangerous things, things not even his loyal Knights were privy to. And she was walking through the corridors with all this knowledge, all these secrets that were rightfully his.
They were nearly to the Great Hall when Tom swirled around to face Avery, Nott, and Lestrange—when had Lestrange joined them? No matter—and the three stopped abruptly. “What do you know about Elena Vablatsky?”
“The Ravenclaw?” Lestrange asked. “Quiet. Pretty, if a little mousy.”
“Smart enough to be in some impressive NEWT level classes,” Avery added. “Good family— pureblood, the Vablatskys, but she’s the end of their line.”
Tom considered this. “Which families are close to the Vablatskys?” He turned again, expecting them to keep up (they did).
“My aunt— mum’s older sister— was friends with Cassandra for the longest time. They had a falling out before I was born,” Avery said. He fingered an earlobe indelicately, remembering. “Aunt Lisabette thought it was a shame when she found out about Cassandra’s daughter— she was sure she could have secured the Vablatsky inheritance for our family if we had grown up together.”
They seated themselves at their usual place in the center of the Slytherin table, Tom pouring himself water while the others began digging into their food with little regard for decorum. “And Mister Vablatasky?”
Avery had the grace to swallow before answering, thankfully. “He’s Eastern European, moved here as a young man. Apparently, his family wanted to avoid some economic issues that had hit their muggle population. His name is something strange— Aurek, I think.”
Tom tapped his fingertips on his goblet. This backstory was all necessary, he supposed, but nothing explained Vablatsky’s lie. And it seemed as though the family was self-segregated enough to have no easy access point for information. “What about friends? Who is Miss Vablatsky close to?”
“Why the questions, Tom?” Nott was watching him, a curious glint in his brown eyes. “Are you interested in her?”
A corner of his mouth twinged, though whether to smile or frown even he was not sure. “You could say that." They were close enough together and far enough from untrustworthy ears that Tom felt safe enough to add, “I have reason to suspect Miss Vablatsky may be keeping a valuable secret. The sort that could prove advantageous were we to exploit it, and possibly dangerous were it left unchecked.”
Avery and Lestrange were uncertain at that, but Nott was thoughtful. “Do you want us to watch her, Tom?”
He nodded. “Be discrete about it, and subtle questioning as well.” They were all Slytherins to a T and, despite Avery and Nott’s behavior the previous evening, could act as such when the occasion called for it. “I particularly want to know who she is close to, more about her family, any secrets they may be hiding. And…” One hand twitched toward his pocket thoughtfully. Should he? Well, they knew better than to cross him. “Pay particular attention when she seems to be nodding off during class. Report any unusual behavior to me immediately.” That should be enough to clue them in were Vablatsky to repeat today’s performance.
Nott sucked in his cheeks, a habit when he was thinking of something. After a pause, he said, “How important is this? Do you want us to call in family favors if necessary?”
“If you think it will result in information that could… persuade Miss Vablatsky to be sympathetic to us, yes.” There. Now all three young men knew the seriousness of the matter. If his suspicions were true, Vablatsky could threaten his future plans. No doubt she didn’t have a clue what her little prophecy meant now, but someday he and his Knights would be known throughout the wizarding world, and he needed to know her silence was guaranteed.
And this prophecy was exciting; it could indicate his plans would come to fruition. It might be nice to see what else the seer might scry.