Tom Riddle and Fawn Reyes were closer than friends. They were enemies linked together, bound by the same sin.
(- Oscar Wilde, An Ideal Husband)
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Fawn is tasked to tuto...
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The diary was to become his soul. His 'horcrux'. Fawn had read the hours away with Tom's book, and as she finished the last of it almost gagged at the thought of a part of the Riddle boy's soul in her hands. According to Tom, dark magic had availabilities such as splitting your soul into different objects—an efficient trick to becoming immortal—but it came with a twist: spill the blood of an innocent victim in order for it all to magically bind. Creating a horcrux was the darkest of magics—for the pits of hell required tainted, twisted sin if you wanted to bask in its flames. Tom had probably planned on that 'innocent victim' being her. Fawn could stab him in the chest with how offended she was, but if half his soul was to start fiddling around in the diary, it'd be no use. Luckily for her, Riddle hadn't completed every step of the process just yet, seeing as she was still kicking.
Another crucial thing Fawn had come across while reading was that whatever resided in the second floor girl's bathroom was the only thing that could permanently destroy Tom's diary. Sketches of it were shown, but not understood very well as Fawn couldn't decipher what Tom had drawn. His awful artistic skills aside—Fawn was ready to face what was waiting for her and hinder the Riddle boy's plans, for she wasn't planning on being anybody's sacrifice. It was well understood how dumb of an idea it was for Fawn to take the bait and follow Tom into the lion's den, but Tom had made a crucial mistake if his plan was to harm the girl who held the source of his life in her hands.
It was nearing the time which had been written on the very first page. Fawn pulled her robes tight around her figure, hood of her cloak hiding her features. She creaked open the door to her dorm, the dim green light of the black lake swimming through the window of the common room and shining an iridescent screen onto the body of Terence. She had heard his writhing since her blood had dripped onto the diary. Whatever it was, the diary spilled nothing but pain into the veins of Tom's followers. Avery was passed out, and wouldn't be waking in time to stop Fawn. She'd question it later and simply accept the happy coincidence for now. No other boy seemed to be lurking near the common room, so Fawn reluctantly stepped over Terence's stiff body and ventured onwards.
The second floor corridor had a lovely view of the stars. It gave Fawn a small twinkle of determination as she ran in an unflattering, torturous manner to keep her footsteps quiet. The diary was stuck in her clammy hands, soot drying and a string of her blood pooling at the bottom and crusting at the edges. She was ill-prepared in all honesty, given how she couldn't decipher half of the drawings or symbols. She understood enough, and that was to destroy the diary in her hands before Tom could use a sacrifice and stuff half his soul throughout the diary's dirty pages.
An old grandfather clock ticked one in the morning just as Fawn's steps halted in front of the girl's bathroom of the second floor. Nothing was out of the ordinary, though the inside was yet to be seen. Fawn caught her breath for what felt like the first time that night, and went to push the door open before her legs crumbled beneath her. She cursed her shaky legs and failed to stand back up when the ground rumbled from beneath her. Something was happening inside the bathroom. A rumbling cascaded through the cracks of the stone ground, and it was definitely Tom's doing.
