Thinking of returning to writing. This story has been inside my head for too long!

Chapter Eight: Into the Pensieve

It was just a few hours since Tom Riddle lost his precious virginity. The Head Girl, Sarah Smith had lost her maidenhead, and also felt misgivings. She should not given her body so easily, for her heart was tugging in another direction.

A group of boys flocked around a nook in the Slytherin common room.

The great grandfather clock struck midnight.

"It's over Riddle. So ...what have you to show? I suppose this will be your first failure!"

Riddle tilted his head back, smug.

"Black! Take a peek inside my memories. I'm afraid you are gravely mistaken." and his wand tipped to his gleaming temple. A gossamer strand came out, it floated through use of a Hovering charm and the strand dipped into a bowl.

"This... Is a Pensieve."

"I know what it is," quipped another boy who was even older.

Together they all ventured inside the bowl and fell into the bath scene.

Soon enough Riddle grabbed one of the younger boy's arm. "Enough. You have seen the truth. Now get out!" After all, this was private and even he wanted decency.

Because it was his memory, he could make them leave at will.

Vengefully, Riddle thought of the night he'd gotten punched in the nose and jumped by them, completely overpowered. He wasn't strong enough yet to out duel four older Slytherins. But for now, he grabbed young Black with a vice-like grip, bruising the boy's arm. It gave him some satisfaction.

"How did you do it?"

Riddle guffawed. "It's very simple," he started sarcastically, but was interrupted.

" Oh, shut-it you!," intervened Rosier. "How in Merlin's c-chest hair could you charm that witch into copulating with you?," Rosier was seething with revulsion, as if Tom was a rodent that had gotten the prize dinner. "You are just a poor, half-blooded orphan. She is one of the wealthiest Purebloods at Hogwarts. And somehow you wheedle in -"

Riddle suppressed showing anger. The true feelings were well concealed. "Gaining her confidence. That was all there was in my designs for gaining her affections. "

Black wasn't so easily fooled. There must be more to this story.

Tom wasn't looking as proud or arrogant as before. For he knew the reason Sarah Smith consented. It had been a success only because she wanted to make another wizard jealous. That Raphael Lestrange she'd been batting eyes at. Sarah did not take him seriously, but soon she would learn. Soon they would all learn. He was the Heir of Slytherin.

Black left without even saying goodnight. He slipped by unseen before anyone made an objection.

But the others were still there. They gathered acrimoniously round the lamp, viewing the Third year with filthy, dark expressions.

Bravely, Riddle strode forward. It was really a courageous thing to do but Tom was determined to be their leader one day. "Rosier. I believe it was you that dared wager against me. You have lost that bet. Therefore, you will cough up your promises."

"Promises? I make no promises!"

"Ha! Consider this your obligation then. It is a duty of Purebloods is it not? To uphold your word!"

There was an intake of breath. This Halfblooded urchin dared talk down to them? And so, they were held spellbound.

Steeling himself, afraid he would be ambushed by the others, Tom drew closer. Rosier was hit by Riddle's icy breath and successfully subdued by a freezing charm. Rosier struggled against the enchantment but could not move, only speak. What was more, Riddle's audience was captivated. Perfect!

There was an air of entitlement about him that further enraged the Purebloods. "At my command, you will procure my list of medicinals Professor Beery keeps inside the greenhouses."


"It is not your prerogative to ask. Only to obey."

But the audience would no longer allow this. "Riddle! You know you won the bet. Quit trying to make it more than it was. It was only a bet..."

"Only a bet? Antonin, my friend you claim this bet was of no import. But that is a claim, made in hindsight. After losing."

Riddle was clearly on the winning side of the logic to the argument. Antonin was confused and scared at hearing the truth. Dolohov was clever, but his wits were no match for Riddle's.

The Lestrange brothers, Dolohov and Rosier walked away from Riddle, Rosier especially giving a scathing glance Riddle's way. Rosier now had to do this younger student's bidding and it was an embarrassment because all the others would know.

Tom did not say a word but disingenuously watched from the sidelines, pretending to return to studying.

Alone, that night, Tom stalked up and down the dormitory, with much to contemplate. A part of him felt regret at not remaining celibate.

His heart was torn by two great passions, one for Sarah Smith. He must design a pretext for seeing that woman again. Perhaps another forage in the Prefect's bathrooms? But no that wasn't enough.

He was compelled by passion at recently uncovering his ancestry. He needed the Purebloods. Without them, there would be no worthy subjects for the Heir of Slytherin to rule over. If he was to be the leader of the Wizarding world someday ,they must be on his side.

After pacing he went to the desk and did some studies. It was rather enjoyable to Tom and before long lost himself in concentration. But then the nagging thought of losing his virginity resurfaced. Perhaps he shouldn't have done so.

He grabbed his goblet and took a rash swig of blood-red wine. He was so disappointed he wanted to lose himself in drink and forget losing his virginity. That idea made him angry, he exercised resistance by means of mad control. His hand swung out and shattered the wine bottle. He would not drink another drop tonight. He retired to bed, thoughts swirling through his mind of greatness and power.

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