Chapter Text
Tom always thought Halloween at Hogwarts was strange. The first year he was at the castle, it was quite joyful — whimsical — even. Decorated with pumpkins, stars, candles, candy and all that. The ghosts of the houses too, seemed very happy. Though, when the clock would strike six pm, Tom would hear things.
On the first Halloween night he spend at Hogwarts, he would hear things, it were soft hisses of snakes. He could speak with them, of course because of the strange gift only he seemed to have, but they didn’t seem quite talkative, nor was he, so he let them be. Though the strangest was prehaps that he could hear them leave his room, but never the castle. He never saw them again. Maybe it was for the best.
In his second year, he would dream. Dream of a room, it seemed to be abandoned. Spiderwebs created in the corners aswell as dead rats. It was ugly. He would see black robes, long and elegant. But as he attempted to look up to see who it was, Tom would wake up. It frustrated him, but after a while he simply forgot about the room—after all, he never had the dream again.
When the third year rolled around, Tom would feel something looming over him. However, when he’d look back he couldn’t see anything. But he knew, he felt it. At first, Tom assumed it would be his Death, but later when he told the house ghost, the Bloody Baron, the man stared at him like he’d just murdered his whole family. The ghost had told him that he was, in fact, not being chased by Death just yet (thank Merlin), but rather, an unknown ghost had decided to haunt Tom on every Halloween since he stepped foot in Hogwarts. Of course it had to be on Halloween, so either people wouldn't care or just think he's searching for attention.
So, Tom decided to ignore the ghost as best as he could.
During his fourth year, he dreamt again, about the room. This time, it was a bit more cinematic. Tom dreamt that he walked through the dark and abanoned halls of Hogwarts, where a door would slowly form. The door had a symbol of a snake on it, and when he'd hiss at it to open, it did with ease. Well, as much ease as a metal door that seemed to be atleast a hundred years old with years worth of rust on it could do. When it did open after maybe three minutes, there were more spiderwebs, more dead rats, and even some butterflies who were torn to shreds. He could hear those same snakes that he met in his first year. They were talking to someone, comforting them.
When he slowly looked up, he saw a long black cloak, followed by long, wavy black hair that faded into white. The ghost was hunched over, their back facing Tom and their face covered by their scarred hands as they let out loud sobs. But just as the ghost would uncover their face, he woke up. Again, it frustrated him to no end. But as he searched through any of the books available, he didn't find anything of such things happening to anyone else, so slowly he let it go.
But his fifth year really takes the cake. It was Halloween morning, he, Abraxas, Lestrange and Avery were awake early. At exactly five am. They stayed in the common room for quite a while, Avery reading in one of the many books his home housed. Lestrange did, aswell. His head was on Avery's shoulder, reading it with much more curiousity than his friend did.
Abraxas sat the closest to the fireplace, sighing at the cold. He took his wand, an ornate, black wand topped with a large, clear gemstone. Its design is intricate and highly decorative, featuring swirling, vine-like patterns that extend from the base to the top. Truly a wand worthy for only one like Abraxas. He muttered a soft 'Incendio' under his breath and the flames began to grow, shining a proud orange. Abraxas smiled at the growing warmth and placed his wand back into his sleeve, turning to Tom. "Did you sleep well? I've heard your Halloween days are rather... odd."
Tom couldn't help but let out a soft snort. Odd. It certainly was a soft way to describe it. Nonetheless, he nodded and sat closer to Abraxas, crossing his legs. Abraxas turned to him with a smile and placed his arm on the armrest, leaning his head against his palm. "Did you sleep well? It is not usual for you to wake up this early," he asked, his voice hinted with curiousity. Abraxas always had such a gentle voice, though one could always tell wether it was gentle or not.
Letting out a sigh, the brown haired boy shaking his head. "No. It's just a usual Halloween for me in this blasted castle," Tom replied in a groggy voice, his eyes still laced with sleep. However, he knew if he tried to go back to bed all he could do was lay there, staring at the ceiling and talking with Zinnia—the pet snake he'd adopted in late August during his shopping—about his classes, strange and complicated relationship with the firstborn Malfoy, about that idiotic old man Slughorn and how he'd trained all the most feared and respected purebloods to see him as a god.
The blond boy let out a short laugh, crossing his lean legs and staring at Tom with that same stare he did the first time they duelled and they ended in a draw—he was still surprised Abraxas didn't try to hex him after it, due to his oh so prideful pureblood mindset. The stare that seemed to create little stars in those admittedly stunning two coloured eyes. Tom let out a dramatically long sigh and rubbed his temples. "Did you three not dream or hear anything?"
Lestrange and Avery turned to him, slowly shaking their heads. "I'm afraid not, my Lord," Lestrange said, before turning back to the book in Avery's slightly shaking hands. Avery nodded in agreement at Lestrange and lowered his head, though he clearly wasn't reading the book.
Abraxas sighed and grabbed two glasses, filling them with water and offering one to Tom. "My Lord, I believe it is best that you atleast ask a few of the portraits, or prehaps the Bloody Baron?" He took a sip from his water, making sure his long hair didn't hit the cup. "It must be an older ghost, though. Neither my parents, nor grandparents have ever heard of a Hogwarts ghost this..." As he trailed off, Tom slowly nodded.
"I asked the Baron once in my third year, but he knew as much as us."
It went quiet again. The only sounds that were filling the deadly silent room was the burning wood of the fireplace, the soft, refined breathing of Abraxas and the turning pages of the thick book that Lestrange had been reading for an hour straight, whilst Avery's face seemed to get redder with each page that passed. When the grandfather clock struck six am, both Rosier and Nott had walked out of their dorm. They sat on the chairs in front of the fireplace, asking politely how everyone had been for the past hour, ever the gentlemen they were. Abraxas had offered all of them cold water, which seemed to calm Avery down, and that made Lestrange perk up and drag the other boy back to their own room.
Rosier let out a snort, watching his closest friend get dragged away by the other. Rosier had moved to the couch in front of Tom and Abraxas, and quickly made chat with the blond boy. As the clock ticked with every passing second, Tom had slowly closed his eyes, still sitting straight. Abraxas had moved closer to him and offered him his cup of water, which he slowly drank. At seven-thirty, Mulciber had woken up, and soon after Lestrange and Avery entered the room again. Rosier had smirked at Avery, who simply scowled at the other boy.
When all of them had drank, they went to the Great Hall and sat down, Abraxas to his right, Rosier to his left. Avery and Lestrange sat next to each other, shocker, Mulciber sat next to Abraxas and Nott in front of Mulciber. A few teachers had arrived shortly after, professor Merrythought, professor Slughorn and professor Duffield. A few more students also arrived, from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, though it didn't surprise him. Those Gryffindors always seemed to arrive much later. The food appeared in front of them, though Tom knew how tasteless it was. Or rather, how it only had two tastes. Most of the foods were either coated in pounds of sugar or were basically grease in a form of foods like turkey.
He really didn't know wether this food or the food back at Wool's was worse, prehaps they were on a good tie. Either way, he reluctantly took some of the fruits, and vegetables. The others—excluding Abraxas—had begun to eat long before. Slowly, Tom turned to Abraxas and gently nudged his knee against the other's, signalling him to eat. Abraxas let out a long, deep sigh before taking an apple (classic), sweet potatoes and a sausage. Though, both Mulciber and he seemed to hear Abraxas muttering under his breath—in French. He wasn't the keenest to understanding the language, but he could pick up some of the curse words and the comparisons. Tom took one guess and knew what the other meant.
Even my great-great-something grandfather Armand can cook better than this, and he can't even boil water.
He let out a soft, rare laugh and continued eating his own meal.
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Classes weren't all that interesting. First was Transfiguration, with that old coot named Dumbledore. Of course, all of Slytherin were victims of his favouritism, and the Gryffindors were the winners. Tom always seemed to be the target of Dumbledore taking points off of Slytherin, for no reason at all. At first, he looked up to the man, when he was the only one to ever visit him in that lonely orphanage, and teaching one of the most useful and interesting subjects, yet it seemed that Tom's effort wasn't enough for him. So, after second year when fifty points had been taken from their house for the simple reason that Tom's spell had broken a cauldrin, he resented the man.
It made him realise how much favouritism can happen in houses and their house masters.
Second was Potions, at first it bored him to death. But when he noticed how proud Slughorn was whenever Tom or Abraxas—or when they could pair up, the both of them—would finish first and of course, have the best potions out of their whole class. The praises that dropped off of Slughorn's tongue would make him feel a little better about the encounters he has with the Transfiguration teacher.
Next was lunch, where Abraxas and he sat next to each other. Though, it was quite noticeable that two of their whole group were missing. Abraxas let out a soft smirk, leaning to whisper in Tom's ear: "They won't be coming. I'm sure you can understand why." Oh and underestand he did. Letting out a sigh, he took a bite out of his bread. The blond boy next to him smiled and continued eating aswell.
Third was Herbology with professor Duffield, the woman was still new to the job, previously having worked at Uagadou in Africa, before moving to England because of family issues. Herbology didn't exactly interest him, though it was quite nice to be so utterly close to Abraxas, their hands brushing against each other as they moved and those soft, lovely whispers Abraxas would whisper when helping the students near him or talking to Tom, it made him feel warm inside.
After Herbology, Avery and Mulciber left for Ancient Runes and Lestrange followed Black to Astronomy. Abraxas and Tom went to the library. Tom had recently told Abraxas all about the strange dreams and the whispers he'd been hearing. Of course, the other boy looked at him like he'd used an unforgivable. But he quickly agreed to help Tom, which made him feel relief wash over him.
When they arrived at the library, Abraxas seemed to know exactly what they were searching for. The blond looked around the shelves' names, a frown forming on his face, until he grabbed atleast five books. "These can help us, but I'm not sure if they have the specific ghost that has been causing you misfortune," he explained in a gentle voice, grabbing the top book, which seemed to be the thickest. Tom nodded and they sat down in a darker corner of the library as to not be disturbed.
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Atleast two hours passed and Tom had read through one book, whilst Abraxas was barely half done with his book. Letting out an irritated sigh, Tom grabbed another book from the larger pile. The chair he sat on had begun to dig into his skin and was, admittingly, starting to hurt him. Gently nudging Abraxas—who snapped out of his deep reading with a flinch and almost hit him—they stood up and went to sit on the couches near a fireplace. There were three couches in total, one at the left side of the fireplace, another one at the right and one in front. In the middle laid a dark green carpet and on it stood a round, black wooden table.
Just as Tom went back to reading, he could hear a soft whisper again. He looked around, attempting to find the source. Abraxas looked up from his book and raised a brow at Tom. "Are you hearing something?" Turning to face Abraxas again, he let out a soft sigh and nodded.
"I can't hear what they're saying, or where it's coming from." Both of the boys stood up and placed the books on the table in front of them. As they did so, the book on the bottom opened quickly, throwing the other books off of it. The pages in the book quickly turned, making a soft gust of wind and letting out a whistle. Tom looked at Abraxas, who looked back at him. They nodded at each other before walking closer to the book, watching as the pages flipped. After a good thirty seconds, it stopped on a half ripped out page. The page glowed a soft green, an ink snake crawling around the drawing of a man. The man seemed rather young, in his early twenties. He had long hair, a sharp face and half lidded eyes. The picture was in black and white, but it seemed his hair would've been black, and his skin as white as paper. His eyes' colour changed slightly as the light shone on them.
It was a rather dirty page, having crumples on it and the edges that weren't ripped off seemed to have been burned. Aswell as some of the words and sentences being unreadable due to the smudged ink. When Tom attempted to turn the page, it cut him, causing a single drop of blood to fall upon the page—or to be more specific, right on the picture of the man. Abraxas sighed and took his hand. He pulled his wand out of his sleeve and muttered a Episkey charm. They turned back to the book, its glow began to turn brighter as the blood began to seep into the page.
Both of the boys looked closely at the book, their eyes widening as the ripped off parts of the pages had begun to float from all around the room and connect themselves to the places from where they were ripped. The crumples in the paper had smoothen out, the burns on the tips healing quickly aswell. When the page had finished reparing itself, Tom slowly touched it, his fingers shaking slightly. The paper let out a soft hiss as Tom touched it, the ink snake slithering out of the drawing and staring directly at Tom.
Abraxas looked around, before leaning down next to Tom's ear. He whispered lowly: "We need to go, someone's here."
Tom let out a soft nod and pulled his hand away, and hissed back at the snake. "I need to leave," he said lowly.
The snake let out a surprised hiss before nodding quickly. It went back into the picture of the man and the ripped off parts of the page flew back to their previous places, the remaining tips burning off and the crumpled pattern returning aswell. The glow of the book quickly disappeared, and Tom closed the book rather harshly. As he picked the book up, a younger girl from Ravenclaw appeared from the hall between the bookshelves. She seemed rather irritated. "Could you be more quiet? I'm studying."
Abraxas spoke up quickly, that same gentle smile on his face. "Of course. Forgive us, we were about to leave." He grabbed Tom's free hand and walked back to the Slytherin common room. As they arrived in the dungeon, Abraxas seemed rather nervous. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Tom thought for a bit and slowly nodded. "This book is it, it has the ghost that has been haunting me." A slow smile formed on his pale face, the one he'd have whenever he found something unknown and interesting to him.
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When they arrived in the common room, it was slightly loud, but it was expected. There were a few older years helping the first years with their homework, Avery and Lestrange seemed to be in their own room, whilst Mulciber and Rosier were whispering in each others' ears. Nott and Black had long gone to their own rooms and Tom took Abraxas to his Prefect suite. It had more privacy than the other dorms, yet it wasn't exactly what he wanted.
Shaking his head, they sat on Tom's rather soft bed and slowly opened the book again. This time, the picture of the ghost's face had changed. He seemed older, prehaps in his late thirties. His long black hair having streaks of white in them. His eyes had widened, fading into another colour. The ink snake had wrapped itself around the man's neck, staring directly at Tom and Abraxas.
Tom let out a sigh and turned back to Abraxas. "If we want answers, I'll have to cut myself," his voice was a little shaky, he didn't perticularly like harming himself, but if he wanted answers, he'd have to. Abraxas stared at him with concern before nodding. Tom attempted to turn the page, which hissed again as it cut his finger. He held his bleeding finger over the picture and let the blood seep in. When doing so, he could hear the hisses of the ripped off parts of the page attatched themselves. The burned tips healed and the crumples straightened. The semen of the ripped parts healed, and the ink words that had been unreadable at first slowly formed back.
A sigh of relief escaped both of their throats and they began reading. Quickly, they realized they couldn't read it, even if they wanted to. It seemed that whoever wrote it spoke some sort of old French, because not even Abraxas could understand it.
Tom cursed under his breath and rubbed his temples. "Such a waste of time," he grumbled. As he went to close the book, he could hear another hiss. Abraxas tugged at his sleeve and pointed to a corner, where the same ink snake resided. It was big, atleast over seven feet long and its eyes were... gone. It had eyesockets, yet they were empty. It laid in the corner, curled in a ball. When it was noticed, it uncurled and slowly slid to them.
It stared (could it even stare?) right at Tom. "You are like him, aren't you?" It asked, slowly tilting its head.
He swallowed and raised a brow. "Like who?" He replied, eyes filled with childish curiousity.
Slowly, the snake slithered to the book, using its nose to tap on the picture of the man. "Like Master," it spoke, a tint of sandess in its voice. "He could speak to us aswell. Just like his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin."
Oh.
Tom nodded and turned to Abraxas. "That man in the page, is one of my ancestors. Or, that's what the snake says." Abraxas slowly nodded. "Shall I go? I think that'll be better... for you." Before Tom could reply, Abraxas pressed a soft kiss to his temple and left the suite. Tom gulped and simply nodded and turned back to the snake, who stared at him again.
"Master would like to meet you. It has been years since one like him roamed these halls." The snake slid off of the bed and turned to a slight crack in the walls—which definitly wasn't there at first—and disappeared. Tom watched as the book shut with a harsh thud, and looked as the crack in the wall grew. It didn't make a sound as it grew, which surprised Tom. When it fully opened, Tom looked inside.
A green light grew as he slowly walked through the wall, it wasn't tight, though it did have the form of a snake. As he walked through the wall, the snake slithered next to him. Tom turned to them. "I never got your name." The snake perked up. "My name is Nyssa. And you?" Tom let out a soft smile. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. It is... nice to meet you, Nyssa. It's been a while since I had the opportunity to speak with a snake." Nyssa looked at him curiously, her dark eyesockets glistening with something white.
"Marvolo? As in, Marvolo Gaunt?" She asked. Her tone seemed to deepen, like the name Marvolo had cursed her.
Slowly, Tom nodded, a little unsure. "Yes. My mother died when I was born, and I've never met anyone from my maternal or paternal side." Nyssa slowly slithered closer to him, before wrapping herself around his body. Surprisingly, she was very light. So light, infact, that she could rest half of her weight on his shoulders and he felt no difference at all. For the rest of their walk, Nyssa seemed to sleep, or simply didn't want to talk.
It took him a good minute to arrive at the source of the green light, which was a wooden door. It was slightly open, the handle of it having the form of a snake holding a raven tightly. As Tom attempted to touch the handle, the snake hissed at him. He quickly pulled his hand away and sighed. "Open," he hissed, watching closely as the snake let the raven go. The raven fell on the ground with a light thud, and the door opened with a loud creak. He walked into the room, groaning at the cold wind that hit him.
He looked around the room, it seemed very old. There were spiderwebs in a few corners, on the fireplace and against the couch, aswell as a few dead rats and still dying butterflies. When Tom stepped inside the room, the door closed tightly. When it did, he could hear the whispers again—or rather, soft sobs. He looked around with a raised brow and his wand in hand. The sobs didn't stop, instead the wind had begun to grow colder and louder. It had to be a ghost.
"Invenire fontes[1],"he muttered under his breath, the cries growing louder as he did. Slowly, a white string grew out of the tip of his wand. It acted sentient, letting out small hisses. After looking around for a bit, the string attached itself to the air that slowly grew into the outline of a ghost.
Tom swallowed, his blood running cold. The ghost had long black hair, along with white strands mixed in it. They wore a long black cloak, the ends of it burned away. There was a hole where their heart should've been. Slowly, they turned their head to Tom, their eyes bloodshot from crying. Along with that, black streaks ran down their face. Tom assumed that it would've been some sort of charcoal makeup. Their eyes were shaking harshly, attempting to calm down from their cries. In a groggy, soft voice they spoke up: "Who are you, boy?"