The snow had begun to fall gently over the castle grounds that morning, blanketing Hogwarts in a soft white veil. The scent of pine drifted faintly through the corridors, mingling with the excited chatter of students preparing to leave for the holidays. I stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, my trunk floating obediently beside me, my wand tucked neatly into my sleeve.
Christmas at Hogwarts was always… peaceful, but this year, I had plans — important plans — that required solitude, not festivity. I would be returning to the orphanage for appearances' sake, of course, but my mind was already far beyond those dreary walls.
"Tom!" Slughorn's jovial voice boomed from behind me. He waddled up, wrapped in an oversized coat lined with fur, his face glowing with warmth and pride. "Heading off for the holidays, my boy? I do hope you'll find time to relax a little, hmm? All work and no play, after all!"
I gave him a small, polite smile. "Of course, Professor. I'll take your advice to heart."
"Splendid, splendid! You've been remarkable this term, Tom — your potion work, your dueling, your… natural charm! Why, I daresay you've become the jewel of Slytherin this year."
"You're too kind, sir," I replied smoothly, though inwardly I acknowledged the truth in his words. Slughorn meant well, but he saw only the surface of what I was becoming.
As we exchanged farewells, I stepped out into the crisp winter air, joining the line of students boarding the scarlet train that waited, steaming quietly on the tracks.
Inside the Hogwarts Express, warmth and chatter replaced the cold. Students rushed to find compartments with their friends, laughter echoing down the corridor. I slid open a compartment door and found Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black already seated, deep in conversation.
"Tom," Abraxas said with a grin. "We were wondering if you'd decided to stay back and charm the professors over Christmas."
I smirked slightly, taking a seat opposite them. "Tempting, but even I need time away from this castle once in a while."
Orion leaned back, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Slughorn must've practically begged you to stay."
"He did," I admitted calmly. "But I told him I had… personal matters to attend to."
They both chuckled. "Of course you do," Abraxas said. "You always do."
The train lurched into motion, the rhythmic chug of the engine filling the silence for a moment. I watched the landscape slide past the window — white fields, snow-covered forests, the faint shimmer of frost on the glass.
Abraxas broke the silence. "Tom, what do you think of Dumbledore's Transfiguration Club? He seems to favor you quite a bit."
I tilted my head thoughtfully. "He's curious about me," I said softly. "Dumbledore sees potential in people — but he also sees what they might become. I think he's trying to understand which side of that I'll fall on."
Orion chuckled. "And what side is that?"
"The side that wins," I said simply, meeting his gaze.
They both laughed, though I didn't.
As the journey continued, I let them talk, content to listen and analyze. Abraxas discussed his family's influence at the Ministry, Orion mentioned his parents' interest in pure-blood politics, and the others who drifted in and out of our compartment all shared the same tone — ambition mixed with pride.
All valuable traits. All exploitable.
After an hour, I excused myself, wandering the corridor to clear my thoughts. The train rocked gently beneath my feet as I passed compartments filled with laughter, games, and sweets.
I paused by one near the back — a group of Ravenclaws sat inside, practicing small spells and sharing books. One of them, a fifth-year girl named Clara Quinn, looked up as I passed.
"Riddle?" she asked curiously. "Heading home for Christmas too?"
I inclined my head. "Yes. I imagine your holiday will be quieter than mine."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe. But at least I'll have books to keep me company."
"Books can be useful company," I said. "If you know how to read between the lines."
Her brows furrowed slightly, unsure if I was joking. I left her with a polite nod and continued down the corridor.
By late afternoon, the sun began to dip low, streaking the sky with shades of orange and pink. Inside my compartment, Abraxas and Orion had dozed off, the rhythmic clatter of the train soothing them into silence.
I sat quietly, my gaze fixed on the window but my mind far away. The knowledge of blood magic and necromantic rituals I had received still pulsed faintly in my mind — waiting, whispering, hungry to be tested.
In the privacy of the orphanage, I could experiment. Small, controlled steps. I would need components, of course — blood, ritual circles, focus points. And perhaps something… expendable.
The train slowed, the sound of brakes squealing echoing through the cars. The station appeared ahead, wreathed in snow and smoke.
"Wake up," I said evenly, nudging Abraxas with the edge of my boot. "We've arrived."
He blinked awake, yawning. "Already? That was quick."
"Time moves fast when you have purpose," I replied.
As I stepped off the train, the cold winter air hit me again — sharper now, more real. Students greeted waiting families; laughter and chatter filled the platform. I stood apart from them, my eyes cold, calculating.
The orphanage caretaker was there, bundled in a heavy coat, waving stiffly. I met her gaze briefly, then turned away.
This would be my last holiday returning there.
Because this Christmas, I wasn't simply going home.
I was preparing for what would come after.
The boy the world saw as Tom Riddle would soon begin to fade — and in his place, something far greater was stirring.
Something immortal.
Something inevitable.