Unexpected Encounters | Tom Riddle

A candlelight flickered against the stone walls of Nurmengard, casting shadows across the dim room. The air was thick with tension, heavy with the scent of burning parchment. The report detailing the Hogsmeade attack lay in tatters on the floor, curling into ash as Gellert Grindelwald flicked his wand lazily over it. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, his sharp blue eyes scanning the men kneeling before him.

Failure was not tolerated. And yet, here they were: bloodied, trembling, defeated. "Pathetic," he murmured, the word laced with quiet menace. The lead enforcer, Konrad, dared to look up. "My lo-" A flick of Grindelwald's wand sent him sprawling to the floor, his breath cut off in an instant. "You speak without permission."

The others shrank away, barely daring to breathe.

"You assured me they were unprepared," Grindelwald continued, his voice smooth, almost conversational. "Yet you returned in disgrace, routed by amateurs." The room remained silent. The only sound was Konrad's strangled gasps as he clawed at his throat.

Grindelwald finally relented, lowering his wand. The man slumped forward, coughing violently. "Tell me, then. Who stood out?"

One of the surviving men hesitated before responding. "The Rousseau girl." A flicker of interest passed through Grindelwald's gaze. "Oh?" "She was relentless," another soldier added hastily. "Not just in defense, but in attack. There was no hesitation. She wielded dark magic too easily. We underestimated her."

Grindelwald hummed, considering. "She has potential, then. But also... unpredictability."

He drummed his fingers against the desk, thoughtful. Lilia Rousseau had refused to yield in their last encounter. That alone made her valuable. Or dangerous. If she could be shaped, she could be an asset. If not... she would be a liability to be eliminated.

"I have seen determination before," he mused. "I have seen fire in the eyes of those who would change the world. But fire is only useful when it is controlled." His gaze darkened. "Find out where she stands. If she wavers, if she proves to be nothing more than a reckless girl playing at war, crush her."

The surviving men bowed their heads. Grindelwald dismissed them with a flick of his hand, but as they left, his thoughts remained on the girl who had forced his hand.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The castle felt different in the wake of the attack. The air carried a heaviness, the once lively corridors now filled with hushed whispers and cautious glances. Extra wards had been layered over the castle, security tightened at every possible point of entry. Professors patrolled more frequently, their gazes sharp and suspicious.

New curfew rules had been put in place. Students were no longer allowed to roam freely past dinner. Any unauthorized presence in the halls after dark was met with severe punishment.

Tom Riddle took it all in with an expression of quiet calculation.

"The professors are on edge," Evangeline murmured as they walked through the common room, the dim firelight casting long shadows across the stone floor. "I heard Dumbledore personally reinforced the wards himself." "Good," Tom replied, his voice as smooth as silk. "It'll make it that much harder for anyone unworthy to slip through."

Abraxas scoffed. "Speak for yourself. This lockdown is suffocating. We can't even leave the castle for private dueling anymore." "We'll find another way." Tom's tone left no room for doubt. "We can't afford to become complacent. If this attack proved anything, it's that we need to be stronger."

Lilia, seated across from them, was silent. Her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the ring on her finger, her mind elsewhere. She had barely slept since the attack. The memory of Grindelwald's men, their spells, their intent to kill, kept replaying in her head. But what disturbed her most was not them.

It was how she had felt when she fought them. Something inside her had reveled in it. The rush, the power. The satisfaction of seeing them fall under her spells.

Tom watched her with interest. "Something wrong?" She looked up, shaking her head. "No."

But he knew better.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Dumbledore's office smelled of parchment, lemon drops, and faintly of something old that had stood the test of time. Lilia sat before the professor's desk, her hands curled into the fabric of her robes.

"You fought well," Dumbledore said finally, breaking the silence. Lilia scoffed, unsettled by that comment. "Is that a compliment?" "An observation," he corrected gently. "One I find... telling." Her jaw clenched. "What do you want me to say? That I regret defending myself?" Dumbledore's gaze was piercing, as if he could see straight through her. "No. But I wonder if you regret enjoying it."

Lilia's breath caught. "I-" she began, but no words followed. "I am not here to chastise you," Dumbledore continued, his tone softer now. "I simply wish for you to remember who you are. You are walking a thin line, Lilia. There is a difference between fighting for survival and losing yourself in the fight."

Lilia swallowed thickly, looking away. The weight of his words pressed down on her, but she wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge them yet.

"I'll keep that in mind," she said at last, though she wasn't sure if it was a promise or a lie.

Dumbledore nodded, but as she left his office, his expression remained troubled.