Where the Black Soul Dwells

Upon entering the empty classroom, Maia hastily closed the door, narrowing her eyes to see through the darkness. The silhouettes of the unused desks and the rest of the furniture were scarcely visible. Maia stretched her arms forwards as she took a step towards the center of the room. She had a terrible impression of a blind man left alone to navigate through unknown space, cursing inwardly as she slammed her leg against a chair.

It took her a while to discover an empty space between two rusty cabinets, where she crouched, pulling out her wand. She tried checking what time it was, but the silver wristwatch couldn't help her in the darkness. Maia could have opted to light up her wand, but she still remained abysmal when it came to the simplest charms.

Maia stiffened in her place, bowing her head. The nervousness and the burden of loneliness began to nibble at her mental strength. She never doubted in her capabilities, but the knowledge about the possible impact her acts could have on the others for the first time in her life swayed her assuredness.

A loud creaking sound forced her to twitch and shun her thoughts aside. The door she was unable to see from her current position opened, she concluded by the bluish light that illuminated the dust-shrouded floor in front of her.

A sense of paranoia clicked inside Maia's brain and she drew closer to the wall, raising her wand as the sound of the door closing and footsteps approaching reached her ears.

Her heart sprung at her throat in the expectation of an attack, and when the light of someone's wand fell over her and blinded her eyes, her actions were guided by pure instinct.

"Impedimenta!"

The blindly-aimed jinx forced the intruder to spring left with equal blindness, crash into a desk, and fall; Maia gasped as the familiar voice swore loudly.

"Dear Merlin," she whispered.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you blithering cretin?" Dolohov snarled as he scrambled up on his feet, dusting off his robes.

Maia knew that Dolohov was bound to arrive soon after her. Why did she even think that anyone who would come here was a potential attacker? She couldn't explain the weird feeling she had, as if everyone knew she was aiming to do something wrong.

She straightened up, quickly closing the space between them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't wish to attack you – I didn't know it was yo– "

"Who else could it be?" Dolohov interrupted her, clutching at the lower part of his back.

Maia frowned at him.

"Are you fine?"

Even under the weak light of his wand, she easily noticed a look of rage he cast her.

"Of course I'm… That's what happens when someone gives a wand to a female dolt…"

"Look, it's not my fault you had to crash against that stupid desk," Maia snapped, enraged by his absurd statement.

"Nope, it's mine. I was supposed to allow you to jinx me," Dolohov scoffed.

"Why are you making a fuss out of it? I already apologized to you."

Dolohov ignored her words, grabbing a handful of her hair and wrenching her out of his way. Maia rubbed at the pained spot as he walked away, leaning against the wall on the other side of the room.

"You know what, Dolohov? You could have picked another time for an argument."

"You forgot you were the one who started it. You'll pay me for this later."

Maia made a mental note to quit speaking with Dolohov for the rest of the evening unless it would be needed, or else nothing was going to stop the exchange of hexes. She quietly made her way to her previous spot and crouched down.

"Why are you hiding there? Don't tell me you're scared."

Maia scowled at the smirk in Dolohov's voice. She never figured out why the big percent of the persons she knew relished everything that irritated her.

She could see the glint of his eyes in the darkness focused upon her, the light of his wand moving up and down over her, provoking her to do something wrong.

"I knew you were going to wet yourself the same moment something actually needed to be done – female courage. May I be damned if I know why Riddle wishes you to be the part of this."

Maia seethed with rage as Dolohov finished, a sole thought preventing her to make a retort. The doubt he had was the same one which was occasionally playing through her mind.

She never understood why Tom wished that. They were supposed to feel close after all the time they had spent together, but he was as a mysterious iceberg which couldn't have been melted, always distant and cold. He never liked her presence, but merely tolerated it, which wounded her in a strange way.

Maia didn't wish to think about it, nor did she have enough time. The sound of a doorknob moving echoed against the walls. She sprung up, swallowing the bile in her throat as she threw a look at Dolohov. The useless action – he would never show an ounce of support.

The door swung open – Maia had no more time to prepare for the ensuing events.

The green light was casting greenish shadows across the leather furniture, the peace of the emerald idyll disrupted with the buzz of the students who hastened to occupy their seats. The fireplace was in vain striving to create a warmer atmosphere in the stone-cooled place, the night being as cold as during winter.

Tom lingered at the entrance for a while, his eyes hungry to see the place he craved during long summer months. Upon discovering no changes, he occupied his favorite armchair beside the fireplace, expecting someone to approach him any moment. He doubted that the student who 'bought out' this place was going to ignore his intentional impertinence.

Wilkes, a seventh-year with a long brown ponytail and a crooked nose, wasted no time to leave his company of sixth-year girls and join Tom.

"Sorry to disturb you, Riddle, but I'm afraid you'll need to get up," Wilkes said in a voice which didn't express any hostility.

Tom smirked at the familiar approach. Kindness was the first option – the force was the last.

"And why is that?"

Wilkes chuckled, sitting down on the couch.

"I agreed to give this place to Greengrass for twenty Galleons, so please don't linger here, unless you're willing to pay more."

Tom crossed his legs, observing the boy with mild scorn.

"I'm not interested in your offer."

Wilkes let out a fake cough, his green eyes darkening.

"Then move away."

"What if I don't?"

Wilkes sighed, clicking his tongue.

"You're looking for troubles, aren't you?"

Tom could hardly brand any argument with him as a trouble. The boy's brain was tinnier than a peanut.

"I don't know which one of us is looking for troubles – you or me."

Wilkes shifted uneasily, drumming his fingers against his thigh as he glared at Tom.

"Look Riddle, I don't know what you're wishing to say, but I don't have time to argue with you."

The free time Wilkes had was never spent for doing something more productive than ogling girls and downing the glasses of any alcoholic drink he stumbled upon.

"What's going on here?"

The unwished, yet needed conversation was sharply interrupted by blue-eyed Bulstrode, who approached them with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I was trying to explain to Riddle why he should stand up, but we couldn't come to an agreement," Wilkes replied.

Bulstrode regarded Tom thoughtfully, sweeping a stray black lock away from his forehead.

"Riddle… Aren't you the one who always looks for troubles?"

"If that's the way you want to put it," Tom drawled, a shadow of a smile flying across his lips.

"Stand up unless you want me to demonstrate what exactly is the meaning of the word trouble," Bulstrode said, his chin twitching.

"And that's supposed to be a threat," Tom murmured.

"Consider it a friendly warning," Wilkes sneered.

Tom turned a blind eye to their words. He continued sitting there, as motionless as a statue. Bulstrode and Wilkes exchanged pithy looks, Bulstrode's hand slowly reaching towards his pocket.

"Why don't we strike a deal instead of fighting?" Tom proposed instantly.

Bulstrode's hand froze; he shot Tom a content look.

"What kind of a deal?"

Whatever Bulstrode expected, it involved money, and Tom held no regret about shattering that illusion.

"I will be kind enough to demonstrate you why attacking me isn't a smart option, if you're willing to spare at least half an hour."

Wilkes' eyes widened; Bulstrode let out a raspy laugh.

"Have they taught you how to count in that Muggle place you came from? Perhaps not. There are two of us – you're alone. It will take me less than a minute to call Flint and Selwyn to come over, while I can't seem to spot any of your friends willing to help you around. I'm sure you'll agree that you aren't in a position to act cocky," Bulstrode explained with a scathing edge.

"I'm still standing behind my words," Tom remarked coldly, his shoulders stiffening at the rudeness.

"Why don't you spill out everything you have, in that case?" Wilkes asked with a smirk.

Tom shifted in his chair, shaking his head.

"It's not as simple as that. A mere explanation wouldn't suffice – you would have to see it with your own eyes."

"What are you trying to pull out, Riddle?" Bulstrode asked.

"Me? Nothing. As I said, this is just a proposition. If after what you are going to see, you remain willing to attack me, then I see no problems with it."

Wilkes lowered his head.

"Is that some kind of a trick?" Bulstrode mumbled, looking at Tom sternly.

"What is that you'd like us to see?" Wilkes asked, not lifting up his head.

"Something that could make you change your mind," Tom answered, smiling at their confusion.

"Then go on – show us," Bulstrode requested.

"Not so fast. You ought to wait – "

"Five minutes," Bulstrode barked impatiently, showing him his fingers. "I'm giving you five minutes to get up and lost. If not, I'm going to take care about you having a pleasant night in a Hospital Wing for wasting my time."

Tom had no reason to be afraid of him and Wilkes, but he knew better than going against everyone on his own. In his world, the prudence's value was twice bigger than that of bravery.

Impatient, Tom glanced at the old ticking clock. Five minutes were going to be enough, if the mindless bunch would refrain from troubles. He was about to see were they worthy of any trust.

The House of Slytherin had no luck this year – just three sorted students, out of which two were laying stupefied on the floor. The third silenced one was trying to escape from Maia's grasp.

"What are we going to do now?" Maia asked, her eyes darting from Lestrange to Dolohov.

Tom didn't enlighten her about all the details, except the ones which were her part of the job.

Lestrange watched the stupefied bodies between him and Dolohov, nibbling at his lips.

"We need to silence them."

Maia blinked under the light of the small light ball Lestrange sent hanging above their heads a couple of instants ago, straightening her hold over the subdued girl's waist.

"What for?"

Dolohov cast her a sardonic smile.

"Do you want everyone to hear them, or you wish the screams for your own enjoyment?"

Maia swayed as the girl gave another attempt at escaping.

"Screams? Didn't we agree on 'just a minor injury, more along the lines of letting the fear sink in'?"

Dolohov shrugged.

"There won't be any permanent consequences, I reckon."

When the seized girl frantically shook her head and kicked her feet, Maia jabbed her wand at her throat, a feeling of silent misery washing over her. This was wrong. She urged herself to remain calm as the obviously bothered Lestrange silenced the unconscious ones.

Maia was forced to step on the girl's toes as another powerful jolt almost knocked her off her feet.

"Stay calm, everything will be over soon," Maia hissed at her ear as her companions again lifted their wands.

"Ready?" Dolohov asked, his thick brows lifting a fraction.

Lestrange swallowed, glancing at the bodies and lowering his wand. A couple of instants passed in quietness, his face losing all the traces of color.

"Riddle's going to be pissed off if we linger too much," Dolohov remarked.

The color returned to Lestrange's cheeks, giving them a shade of the brightest red.

"Dolohov?"

"What?"

"I-I… I c-c… I can't do this…"

A scathing laughter escaped from Dolohov's lips; Maia frowned, forgetting about the wiggling girl.

"Come on Lestrange, stop attempting to pull a Malfoy," Dolohov sneered.

"I'm serious – I think I'm going to be sick."

"Sick? What curse could make you sick?" Maia asked, her eyebrows springing up.

"Nothing terrible. We did that before," Dolohov answered sharply.

Lestrange gave him a shocked look.

"Do you know what is the difference between cursing an animal and a human being?"

They needed something to practice curses on and the small mammals were the best option they had. It didn't bother Maia at all – she hated majority of animals, except for big dogs, reptiles, and birds.

Dolohov smiled.

"I do – I see no reasons for hurting cats – they do no evil to anyone."

Maia gasped. Someone needed to sort out the values in life…

"Hurry up!" Dolohov barked impatiently.

Lestrange looked at Maia.

"Can you…"

Maia didn't wish to hurt another pure-blood. She didn't wish to gamble with the trust Tom gave her. She didn't wish to refuse helping a friend. So many unwished things were involved in this.

"Sure," she muttered grimly after an inner battle.

"What've I done to deserve this?" Dolohov mumbled as Maia and Lestrange switched places.

Maia pointed her wand at the unconscious form of the brown-haired boy. Something inside her stomach twitched.

"What curse Tom wished you to perform?"

"Transmogrifian Torture," Lestrange answered, effortlessly holding the wide-eyed blonde girl in place.

The words crashed against Maia's mind as a tidal wave. The reminiscence of the passages read in a book a while ago floated in front of her eyes, as if she was reading those words now.

One of the few curses which cannot be cast non-verbally, the Transmogrifian Torture has the power of contorting the shape of the victim to cause pain, which according to the scale of pains the curses can invoke deserves a third place, the Exsanguinating and the Cruciatus Curse being the only ones with a stronger effect.

The appearance of the victim is altered in a grotesque manner upon the administration of the curse. After the lifting of the curse, the body parts under the effect of contortion cannot return to their original position without a counter-curse.

Unlike the Cruciatus Curse, which only stimulates the pain receptors and never has physical consequences, the Transmogrifian Torture has the power of contorting not just the outsides, but even the insides of a victim if it is performed for a specified period of time, leading to the excruciating death. Casting this curse is a process which requires medium effort, but making this curse deadly requires years of practicing.

In case of the smaller mammals and birds, just five minutes of exposition to this curse are enough to cause death, if the curse is correctly cast. In case of humans, thirty to forty minutes are required, depending on the strength of the cursed individual.

It took her a while to regain her senses, but when she did, each sense became intertwined with rage.

"No! We are not going to do this!"

Lestrange flinched at her shouts.

"If you aren't going to do this, step aside and don't bother!" Dolohov growled, motioning with his wand for her to move.

Maia hysterically shook her head.

"No! We can't do this! You can't do this!"

"I've to."

"No, you don't! You don't have to do something just because Tom ordered!"

Dolohov's thin lips twitched.

"I've to, because I said so. If you don't value your word, I do. Now stand aside."

Maia shot him a furious look.

"I won't allow you to hurt one of our kind in such a manner."

Dolohov's face remained expressionless as he pointed his wand at her.

"Stand aside, Black – this is the last warning."

Maia imitated his movement without hesitation.

"If you wish me to stand aside, you will have to make me do that!"

"Just stop it, you two, someone is going to hear us!" Lestrange shouted the words they didn't obey.

Dolohov wouldn't hesitate to apply force – Maia would never be afraid of him. She had to do what was right.

They glared at each other furiously and without blinking for a couple of instants before Dolohov grinned.

"You're such a coward, Black. Worse than Malfoy – he at least admits what he is – you pretend you're brave. You've no guts to do anything except torturing animals – no guts to do anything without Riddle to support you."

Maia's intestines contorted with rage, her wand arm twitching. No one called Maia Black a coward – she would do absolutely anything to prove that she wasn't one.

"Please, Dolohov, stop it," Lestrange pleaded angrily.

"You're nothing more than a pathetic girl with a bloody big mouth. You aren't worthy of any trust. You're a disgrace – "

Dolohov never finished what he wished to say; Maia reacted in a flash and mindlessly swished her wand at the insensible form beside her feet, every atom of rage she felt for him transferred into the curse.

"Torqueo!"

The boy stirred and broke free from the effects of the stunner, his mouth opening in a silent scream as his skin began rippling, as if there was something moving beneath it. Through the ringing in Maia's ears, she heard Dolohov uttering the word and saw the other boy twitching, but nothing of it had any importance now. Her eyes were fixed upon the cursed boy as in trance.

His limbs took position no one would consider possible, his fingers twisting in an attempt to reach his wrists, his arms bending and elbows weaving the way toward the center of his spine. His body behaved as a boneless thing, as a sponge with elasticity which knew no boundaries. It was horrible, twisted, sick –

And precisely that sickness was beautiful. His body twisted and untwisted, with each moment gaining a new position, more complicated than the previous one. It was a beauty in a new light, a beauty of making something impossible come true.

That beauty carried a bitter edge, the terror of seeing the face becoming something monstrous, the upper lip bending upwards, the lower downwards, the teeth plunging forwards.

A wave of nausea replaced the trance as the skin of his face went limp and left eye seemingly shifted down. Maia could feel everything she chewed that evening coming back in her throat with an acidy burn. Her vision doubled, the boy becoming two in front of her eyes for a brief instant.

In a desperate attempt to evade looking at the masterpiece of her hand, her eyes darted towards Dolohov. He was calmer than his usual-self, his lips forming a ghost of a smirk. Maia shuddered at his lack of negative emotions as the twitching boy hit her feet. It was impressive in its own way, as deviant as the positions of the tortured bodies.

Dolohov twitched his head up, as if he felt her look. Their eyes interlocked, giving Maia a wish to scream. She needed to stop – they needed to stop, but she couldn't move a finger to end the curse.

Maia glared at Dolohov in a silent plead he seemed not to understand, his eyes remaining as cold as the metal. She heard a retching sound, only after a moment realizing that it came from her throat. The silencing charm lost its power and a scream pierced her ears, her vision doubling again. When everything shifted back in focus, her body gave a sway.

Maia only succeeded to catch another glimpse of the dark gray eyes before the darkness surmounted her and she sunk unconscious.

Tom gave the clock another furious look, his mouth thinning into a line. The given minutes were dripping away and there were no signs of their arrival.

Bulstrode clucked his tongue.

"Less than a minute, Riddle."

Wilkes produced a relieved huff.

"It was just a trick, right?"

Any further waiting was useless – Tom never relied on luck. Bulstrode's hand again flew towards his pocket and it took Tom the tinniest instant of concentration to send the wand flying away from Bulstrode, without moving a single finger. The boy winced, his eyes frantically searching for the lost wand.

Wilkes sprung up on his feet as a striking snake.

"If you think you're going to save yourself with – "

"What's going on here?"

Tom contracted at the voice. Carrow, a seventh-year with a shining badge attached to his robes approached them with a stern expression.

Wilkes brought out a stupid smile.

"Nothing, we were just – "

"You were just about to start a fight," Carrow finished with a frown. "Nothing such as petty fights and tormenting of the students is going to be tolerated as long as I'm here."

Carrow was meticulously completing the duties of a Prefect. Another glance at the tall boy revealed that the Prefect badge was replaced with the one of a Head Boy.

"Look, Carrow, why don't you mind your own business and go lecturing the first years? We're too old for that…" Bulstrode proposed, bowing down to pick up his wand.

"I also think you are too old to behave like a bunch of pixies. Scramble away, unless you want to be reported to Slughorn – immediately. Remember what you were told last year, Bulstrode? Just two more incidents and you will be expelled."

Bulstrode clenched his fists, exchanging looks with Wilkes in silent indignation.

"This is far from being over," Bulstrode muttered the last warning before walking away, hastily followed by Wilkes.

Carrow looked at Tom and gave him a soft smile, slowly sitting opposite him.

"I'm sorry for this. I didn't see them maltreating you earlier."

Tom shook his head, faking an equally warm smile.

"Don't be sorry – it's not your fault. They are always maltreating someone."

Carrow laughed briefly.

"Right you are. I wonder why they didn't kick them out already. Have you seen Lestrange?"

Tom warily glanced at the older boy.

"No. Why?"

"I entrusted him with guiding the first years to the common room, as he got to be the newest Prefect, but I didn't see any one of them around."

Tom wrinkled his eyebrows.

"Really? I wonder what happened…"

Carrow shrugged meekly. He kept his eyes focused on Tom for a minute. His teeth were burying into his lower lip in what looked as nervousness.

"Do you have a problem?"

"N-no – it's not that," Carrow slurred his words. "I just…"

This time Tom had no need to fake confusion.

"What happened?"

"I have to talk to you."

Tom was unable to find a topic Carrow could discuss with him. They never associated.

"About what?"

Carrow looked at his feet in a manner which revealed how much uncomfortable he felt.

"About Maia."

Tom's eyes widened involuntarily.

"Did she make you a problem? If she did – "

Carrow interrupted Tom with a wave of his hand.

"No, no, nothing similar to it."

Tom frowned.

"What is it, then?"

"I just wished to know is there anything between you – anything more than friendship."

Tom could scarcely tie the hastened words into a complete sentence, but when he did so, he was left fuming. Carrow had no rights to appear out of nowhere and ask such a preposterous question.

"There is nothing between us, nor there will ever be."

Carrow gave him a look as relieved as it was apologizing.

"I see… Sorry if I sounded rude…"

Tom gritted his teeth in subdued anger. Most of the boys above third year habitually talked about the girls and the 'beneficial things' they got or would get (or just dreamed about getting), but Carrow never was one of them.

"Why are you interested in that?"

Carrow made a grimace.

"Because I…"

"You what?"

"I like her."

The last thing Tom expected to happen was being left speechless by Carrow. He just forgot that the unexpected things were unluckily attracted to him.

"Maia, don't make more troubles than we already have. Please wake up."

Maia frowned at the worried sound of Lestrange's voice and attempted to move his arm wrapped around her waist, not opening her eyes.

An amused chuckle sounded above her, a feet kicking her butt.

"You've had enough rest. Get your prat up."

Maia tried to recall what happened, her mind blurred around the edges. The curse… They had to stop it.

"Dolohov…" she muttered, with a great effort moving her eyelids up.

Dolohov crouched beside her, grinning.

"What is it?"

"Stop it… Please, stop it…" Maia whispered, failing to move her head from Lestrange's shoulder.

Dolohov shot her a baffled look.

"Stop what?"

"The curse… Stop the curse…"

"Maia, it's over. There are no more curses," Lestrange replied soothingly, brushing a lock away from her cheek.

"What happened to me?" Maia asked, blinking slowly.

"You fainted a minute or two ago, like a true hero you are," Dolohov scoffed.

Maia groaned as he burst into laughter. Not only she embarrassed herself for life with fainting, but they did one of the worst things imaginable.

"How could you do that?"

"So what? I don't even know who they are – I can't care for them," Dolohov gave her a plain answer. "You shouldn't blame me for the same thing you've done, when you were the one who protested at first."

The rage came back to life inside Maia. Everything was Dolohov's fault – he provoked her. She would have never brought harm to that boy.

"You are a disgusting bastard."

Dolohov grimaced briefly.

"Close your stupid muzzle and stop barking."

"Stop with your claptrap," Lestrange requested. "Come, I'll help you to stand up."

Maia winced as Lestrange pulled her up on her feet, her eyes darting upon the terrified girl curled in the corner. A tilt of her head was enough to help her see another sight: the contorted boys were gathered in the center of the room, still twitching.

Maia hastily looked away.

"How are we going to take them to the common room?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"Carry them, I suppose," Dolohov replied, approaching to inspect the boys with no hesitation.

"We can't do that alone," Lestrange stated, frowning.

"We'll ask Nott to help us. Pansy could lend us a hand, it wouldn't hurt him," Dolohov proposed.

Maia chuckled nervously. No one was going to wake Malfoy from the shock-induced comma after seeing this.

"And you pick up that girl and lead her, don't stand there as a statue," Dolohov said, giving Maia a sharp look.

Maia sighed. She forgot what she was supposed to do in all this mess.

"Fine, but don't you think I will allow you to order me around."

"I will call those two. Hurry up, someone can see us easily if we waste too much time," Lestrange warned, walking out of the room.

Maia gathered courage to glance at the warped forms as she headed towards the shuddering girl.

"Do you think those two can walk?"

Dolohov scratched his head musingly.

"Maybe they could, but I wouldn't test that."

Maia shook her head. The Matron was going to have a fun night in the Hospital Wing.

When she glanced at the girl again, she couldn't help wondering why Tom wished one of the first years to remain unharmed.

Tom… He promised…

This was his fault rather than Dolohov's. The acid shifted from Maia's throat to her chest. This conclusion stung her with the pain of betrayal.

If an instant ago someone asked Tom was there anything stupider he heard than the inappropriate question, he couldn't find such a thing. Now, Carrow gained the greatest echelon in the gigantic army of those who lacked common sense.

He liked Maia Black? The same one who who was always forgetting that she was a girl, sitting in a skirt with her legs spread in front of the boys? That Maia whose only purpose in life was nattering about Grindelwald? The fool who resolved every problem with a hex or two?

No – not that Maia. Tom had misheard it – Carrow couldn't like Maia.

"Is this some kind of a joke?" Tom sneered in disbelief.

"No, I'm serious," Carrow replied firmly.

The common room spun around Tom.

"How?"

"I don't know how. I suppose it just happened," Carrow answered simply, reddening.

"And why did you have to tell me? What do I have to do with it?"

Even though there were no reasons, it bothered Tom. He didn't wish to be a part of his primitiveness.

"I wished to ask you a favor," Carrow confessed, looking away.

Tom roughly rubbed at his temples.

"What kind of favor?"

"You are always together, and you seem to be far more serious than the rest of her friends. I think she trusts you, and well… if you could speak with her about – "

"No," Tom interrupted him with needless sharpness.

Matchmaking wasn't his business – there was nothing that could make him stoop so low. He loathed the mere thought of gifting Maia with such an idea.

Maia was different than the other girls, who fell prey to the stupidity of the masses. There was no one in this world she could like except Grindelwald, for whom she developed an unhealthy crush, but –

As different as Maia was, those things were a normal part of everyone's life. Maybe she would never like the docile and polite Carrow, but she was bound to find someone. Maia was going to meet a blue-eyed blond as Grindelwald who would knock her off her feet, or a dauntless scalawag as Dolohov, who would use her as nothing but a tool for satisfying the lowest needs, and –

And Maia was going to end up just like his mother.

A weird tightness pierced his chest at the thought. Maia was a paragon of everything that represented life – smiling and full of zip. She could never face death.

Tom hastily shook his head, regaining his senses. He shouldn't be distracted by the lame thoughts.

"I didn't wish to sound rude. I hope you will understand that I, as her friend, have no wish to put her under any kind of pressure – "

Tom's words got lost in a horrified female scream.

Tom and Carrow instinctively bolted up on their feet, just in time to see two bodies crashing down the small set of stairs close to the entrance.

"Merlin dearest…"

Tom understood why Carrow had the expression of a man who saw the devil. The bodies left twitching in mass didn't even resemble bodies. One boy's arms were stuck between his knees that were bent in the opposite directions, as well as his feet, which were lifted upwards. The other boy had his tongue out, his mouth somehow shifted towards his right ear, his left eye lowered by an inch.

They resembled the statues made by a sculptor under the effects of opiates. The overall effect was comical rather than scary in Tom's opinion.

"Who did this?" Carrow muttered with an air of a mechanical doll.

"Murderers!" Wilhelmina Crabbe, a girl prone to hysteria, screeched her unrealistic accusation, pointing at the group standing on top of the stairs.

Malfoy was absentmindedly looking at the high ceiling, covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief. Nott was holding the girl who looked too desperate to attempt escaping – the student Tom entrusted to Maia. Dolohov was observing the scene with a self-satisfied smirk, while Lestrange bowed down his head. Tom wondered where Maia was, before he spotted the smallest part of bright bedraggled tresses scarcely detectable behind Lestrange and Dolohov.

"What is the meaning of this?" Carrow shouted, his black eyes blazing as he shot Lestrange an inquisitorial look.

From the corner of his eye, Tom noticed that Iriana Travers was about to faint, being held by the charitable Lucy Parkinson and meddlesome Walburga Black. Iriana's brother didn't seem touched by the outcome (perhaps he didn't even look at his sister), occupied with giggling at the boys. A couple more individuals like Macarius Mulciber, Dolohov's sister (famous for being phlegmatic), and Orion Black observed everything with unbothered expressions.

"I asked you something! Who did this to them?" Carrow shouted again at the silent Lestrange.

Maia drew herself completely behind Dolohov. As Mrs. Cole loved to put it, she was always praying to a deaf God. In this case, Maia's God turned out not to be just deaf, but oblivious and blind as well – or maybe simply ill-mannered. Dolohov stepped aside and pushed Maia forwards, not receiving any complaints from the usually argumentative girl.

"We did it. Any problems with it, Carrow?" Dolohov taunted, not taking the smirk off his lips.

A wave of gasps washed over the common room.

With a pang of joy Tom noticed that the low-grade gang composed of Flint, Wilkes, Selwyn, and Bulstrode was drawn back towards the end of the common room. This made Tom wonder how someone could call himself a bully, when his strongest weapon was a Bone-Breaking Curse.

"Let that girl go!" Carrow barked at Nott, his hand coming to rest against his pocket.

Nott's eyes searched for Tom; he gave him a brisk nod. The released girl staggered forwards and with a pathetic whine dashed to hide behind Carrow, whose attention returned to Dolohov at that instant.

"What have you done to them?" Carrow asked, gritting his teeth.

Carrow had either forgotten that Dolohov had said 'we', or he was merely unable to believe that anyone else could have performed that feat.

Dolohov lifted up his left brow.

"Why are you asking me? Aren't you a know-it-all?"

Voiceless, Carrow fumed for a while.

"Look, Dolohov, if you think that you can injure someone without reasons and then act like – "

"Save your speeches about justice for someone else," Dolohov interrupted him.

"Don't think I'll let this pass just like that," Carrow warned him, pulling out his wand.

Tom wondered whether he should meddle or stay out of this until a better occasion to bring forth the last notification as Carrow stepped forwards.

"You know, I wouldn't play with that if I was in your place. Someone could get hurt," Dolohov said mockingly as Carrow pointed his wand at him.

Tom hadn't comprehended what Dolohov's wish was – he had enough time to prevent the attack. He had certainly relied on Carrow's inability to squish a fly.

"Dolohov, those kids can't be left in this state. I need to know what you have done to them. I'm asking you one last time."

Dolohov stubbornly ignored Carrow's request. The older boy's lips formed a taut line.

"Morde– "

"Stop it! It's not his fault!"

Tom made a revolted grimace after Maia shouted and took her place as a hindrance between the two boys – he forgot that she was a martyr who would so gallantly burn alive for someone who would never do the same for her.

Judging by the look Walburga gave Maia, she would be able to strangle her for defending Dolohov. Tom could do the same (he hated the noble knights), if it wasn't for the amusement this situation was bringing.

Maia thought that she had a privilege to do whatever she wanted to her friends (she gave Dolohov a fair share of Stinging Hexes Carrow attempted to use, and received an equal share of them as a payback), but if someone else would attempt the same, she would lose the sense of self-control.

Tom recalled with a smile the situation when one girl asked him nagging questions about his life with the Muggles, to which Maia blatantly responded with a threat consisted of plucking out her tongue. Maia never learned – and probably would never learn – how to control her rage.

Carrow sighed, lowering his wand.

"Maia, I know Dolohov is your friend, but you can't protect – "

"I'm not protecting him! If you think someone deserves a punishment, then punish us both. We are equally guilty!"

Carrow stared at Maia in indescribable wonder as louder murmurs spread across the common room. Tom imitated him; he didn't understand anything.

"What did you just say?" Carrow asked hoarsely.

Tom let out a low chuckle – maybe Carrow was going to stop liking Maia as an aftermath.

Maia's nostrils widened.

"I said that we are equally guilty. Everything he did, I did too."

Travers' nudged Zabini and pompously whispered, "That's our girl. Good ol' Goyle would be so proud to see this."

"What're you going to do now, Carrow? You're too noble to attack a girl – or not?" Dolohov jeered at the stunned boy.

Carrow's eyes furiously darted upon Dolohov.

"You forced her to do that!"

Dolohov laughed curtly.

"He didn't. I'm old enough to bring decisions!" Maia spat, crossing her arms over her chest as an offended brat.

Carrow twitched. His eyes returned to Maia, lingering upon her for a long minute.

"Why?"

Tom smiled at the disappointment in his voice. Those who couldn't fathom the core of good and evil, could never hope to fathom Maia Black. Everything she did wasn't a matter of mere will. Everything she did was the project of the guidelines implanted in her mind.

"Perhaps I can tell you why, Carrow," Tom said softly, stepping towards the girl who was crouching on the carpet.

Carrow spun around, his eyebrows joined.

"You knew about this? You knew what they wished to do?" Carrow asked in a dry voice.

"I do. You see, I was the one who told them to do so," Tom explained politely, as if they were chatting about classes.

"Right – they simply obeyed the crazy wish," Carrow remarked in disbelief. "You wouldn't do that."

Tom smirked at his assuredness.

"Why? Because I'm polite, quiet, a good student? I think you need to learn not to be superficial. There is much more to everyone than just eyes can tell."

Carrow attempted to lift his wand again, but it flew out of his hands, right into Tom's.

"Don't waste your energy on such things. Listen instead," Tom hissed as Carrow's eyes widened.

He stepped beside Carrow, turning on his heel to look at the silenced crowd.

"I had the luck to be sorted into a house where the words have no value unless you enrich them with money or force. I had even bigger luck to be born as an individual who would never accept any form of humiliation."

The confused bunch of second-years exchanged grim looks. Someone from the crowd snorted.

"That is how I brought a decision to change things around here. There is no need to give me those puzzled looks – we all like power, unless we are liars who would deny everything, that is. As it happens, you can't lie and say that you never allowed yourself to fall into a trap of extortion. Greengrass, didn't you just give money to Wilkes to ensure yourself a seat for the week?"

Greengrass gave him a slow nod.

"Nothing is going to change – except the one you're going to pay to. From now on, no one is going to occupy any seats without permission. No one is going to take stuff away from the younger students, and no one is going to torment the same."

Avery beamed, nudging Rosier. Mulciber muttered something under breath.

"No one can organize any kind of blasphemy you're calling a party without paying for permission."

Druella and Zabini shrunk at those words. Tom was sick and tired of being sent off from the common room along with all the younger students during every Saturday night because the older ones needed to drink, gamble, smooch, and listen to awful songs.

"No one can leave the common room past the curfew – I'm sick of you losing points from our House – and no one can associate with students outside of our House, unless the said student is confirmed not to be a traitor."

Tom thought it would be a good way to prevent any rumors about him spreading.

"Currently, those are all the rules I would like you to follow. We have much more important stuff to deal with than the unruliness."

"And you thought that we would obey just like that?" Walburga scowled at him.

"I don't think obeying all of this can fit in my agenda," Travers added, sneering.

Tom shot them a smile.

"No, I didn't think so even for a moment. This is why they are in this state," Tom explained, pointing his wand at the twitching boys.

"I wanted to see what could happen to you if you disobeyed. This – or worse. You, Travers, you couldn't fit resting in the hospital bed due to your kidney missing in your agenda. And you Walburga, I thought you wouldn't wish to look like them. It would be such a pity for that beautiful face," Tom remarked sarcastically.

Travers remained silent while Walburga shot Tom a hateful look. Bulstrode stepped forwards, clenching his fists.

"If you think I'm scared because you made a bunch of kids look worse than goblins, you're wrong!"

Tom raised his eyebrows, taking another step towards the first-year who refused to move away from the speechless Carrow.

"Am I? Perhaps you want something more convincing?"

Someone behind Tom gasped as he pointed Carrow's wand at the blonde girl.

"Strangulo!"

The first-year was bucked away from Carrow, crashing against the floor. A desperate gasping sound broke free from her throat, and her trembling hand went towards it. Tom didn't flinch as the girl flopped around, in vain train to take an intake of breath.

"Stop it – you're going to kill her – stop it!" Carrow shouted, a couple of unintelligible shouts from the crowd following.

Tom lifted the curse with an idle movement, leaving the girl whose skin gained a bluish tint writhing on the floor, smirking in satisfaction.

"The kids looking like goblins can't scare you, but I'm sure you don't want to be left without air, Bulstrode."

"Don't mistake me for a first-year who can't even levitate things," Bulstrode snarled.

"You asked me do I know how to count? Well, now I'm asking you the same question. There are four of you – if your comrades are willing to support you, that is. Just four against six."

"Against six?" Flint muttered.

Tom glanced at the bunch still standing away from the mess. They exchanged looks, some sneering, some grimacing, and silently joining him.

"What have you done?" Walburga muttered a question, which was certainly dedicated to Maia, who occupied the place between Tom and Nott, looking downcast.

"I'm sure you won't take your chances against us," Tom stated.

Bulstrode glanced at his companions; Wilkes nodded, Selwyn stiffened.

"Don't look at me!" Flint snapped as Bulstrode gave him a stern look.

"Just three of you remained – still six of us left," Tom remarked, twirling the brownish wand between his fingers.

Bulstrode and Wilkes clenched their fists.

"You know what Bulstrode?" Selwyn asked darkly. "Let's not sleep in the Hospital Wing tonight – we still have detention left from the last year – skipping will just delay the end."

Tom sneered at the cowardly excuse. Bulstrode let out a frustrated roar and sunk on to the table.

"So, is there more resistance?" Tom asked, his lips twitching into a smile as Wilkes bowed his head.

No one uttered a word, just one crying sound came from the crowd. A deep chuckle Tom recognized as Dolohov's was heard to his left.

"I'm glad we came to an agreement," Tom stated contentedly. "If any one of you tries a thing such as telling Professors, you will feel on your own skin things way worse than what you are seeing tonight."

A couple of murmurs echoed, but were quickly shushed down.

"Feel free to continue whatever you were doing before this. Tomorrow, the new rules will be applied."

None of them had guts to stand against Tom or any form of abuse – all they did was scream. Their cowardice gave him victory before the battle began.

"You are going to return and have a talk with me, Miss Scoundrel!"

Maia ignored Walburga's shouts and burst into her dormitory, drawing back the curtains and plopping down onto her bed. Walburga followed her, standing beside the bed, her hands on her hips.

"I would have never thought that you were going to embarrass our entire family by joining a gang of a half-blood!"

Maia moaned. She didn't wish to listen to reproaches. She just wished to crawl away in the corner in shame and penitence.

"Walburga, please, I can't discuss – "

"You can and you will. Where is your mind, you silly creature?"

Maia covered her ears to muffle Walburga's screeches as two girl joined them.

"Walburga, darling, leave her be, don't be a killjoy all the time," Druella said with a chuckle, settling next to Maia as Lucy shot them a pitiful look.

"Killjoy? You think I'm enjoying this or something?" Maia snapped, bolting up in a sitting position.

"Are you not? Your darling Riddle just became the undisputed king," Druella remarked with a provocative smile.

"Riddle's not my darling!" Maia snarled.

She couldn't negate the joy she felt at that moment. If there was someone born to become a ruler of any form, that someone was Tom. His composure was that of majesty. Her joy was quickly torn apart by the reminiscence of her deed, the deed he requested.

"I won't even mention that beside your darling, you're going to have a buttload of privileges," Druella continued, not paying attention to Maia.

"Could you refrain from using words which involve butt or similar things?" Lucy requested, taking clothes out of her suitcase as Druella brought a cigarette tin out of her pocket.

"So what? Won't you have privileges beside your darling?" Maia asked as Druella winked at Lucy. "If I don't strangle him before that…"

"Antonin pissed you off again?" Druella asked, muttering something about her wand as she combed through her pockets.

"I guess," Maia mumbled. "I don't even know about what to be angry anymore.'

"You have no more rights to be angry at Dolohov. You are the same like him – even worse – in the names of Merlin and Morgan, you are a girl and you are torturing people around!" Walburga blurted out, landing on to Lucy's bed.

"Don't be silly, Wal. Maia did nothing – she just said that to defend him," Druella remarked, using her wand to ignite the cigarette.

Maia gurgled weakly. Druella gave her a bewildered look.

"You didn't curse them, did you?" Lucy asked, her brows furrowing.

Maia buried her head into her palms.

"What kind of shit you fell into, darling?" Druella mumbled, wrapping her left arm around Maia and pulling her into a hug.

"I knew you were hexing students before, but I always wrote it off as a flaw in your hot temper. I don't know what to think about you anymore," Lucy said disappointedly.

"You know how they say, the one who is the bully today will become the killer tomorrow," Walburga added, frowning.

"You're not helping her, you know?" Druella snapped at them as Maia snuggled her head against her shoulder.

Maia knew they were right. She spat on everything her family taught her. Today, she was the enemy of her own race. If such curse was to be performed upon a Muggle, Maia would have been the first one in the row of those eagerly waiting to do it. This was filthy enough to make her hate her own persona, especially when a reminiscence of the ecstasy of power she felt for an instant returned into her mind.

What unreasonably hurt Maia more than everything was Tom's broken promise. She trusted him…

"I wouldn't have done that – Dolohov made me," Maia whispered.

"I know he's acting like a jerk with you and with everyone, but I don't think he's ready to force you to do anything. You've said that you can decide for yourself before," Druella replied, letting her cigarette burn unattended.

"I didn't want to say that he used force to make me do that," Maia explained, blinking away the smoke. "Lestrange was supposed to curse one of them, Dolohov the other. Lestrange couldn't and I offered myself, not knowing what kind of a curse they were supposed to perform. I refused to comply once I found out, but Dolohov taunted me about being a coward until I burst and… It just happened… I can't even recall how I cursed that boy…"

"Of course that Roderick couldn't, he's a good person," Lucy remarked, immediately blushing.

"Yes, and I'm a bastard…" Maia mumbled.

"Well, at least you're not the only bastard. Antonin's a bastard and Riddle's a bastard," Druella said with a chuckle.

"And since you are dating a bastard, you are a bastard too," Walburga said to Druella. "It's not the end of the world, cousin. As you can see, there are too many bastards around for you to feel bad about being one."

Maia scowled at Walburga's sarcastic poison.

"And Borgin you were dating the last year wasn't a bastard? He fathered a child to a Muggle hooker this summer and simply disappeared…" Druella accused, inhaling the smoke which bothered Maia's eyes.

"He is a bastard, but he is a handsome bastard, which I can't say for yours," Walburga replied, the red color invading her cheeks.

"At least mine's good in bed. Yours obviously wasn't, or else you wouldn't go around frowning all the time."

"What? I never slept with Borgin – I'm not a slut," Walburga blurted out. "Just tell me you haven't been sleeping with – "

"Wal, you can't expect everyone to die a virgin like you," Druella sneered.

"And you can't expect everyone to sleep with the first man who crosses their path," Walburga retorted, her ears gaining the color of her cheeks as Lucy chuckled.

"I haven't been sleeping with everyone. Just with Dorian, Winston, and Antonin," Druella confessed calmly.

"You slept with Greengrass too? And with Winston Shacklebolt, that dumb Hufflepuff? You are gross!" Walburga shouted, knotting her fingers into her hair.

Maia stared at Druella with her mouth open. Sleeping with someone before marriage was one of the biggest sins in the world of pure-bloods. If Maia had done that, her parents would have disowned her.

"If you're looking for a boyfriend, don't even think about choosing Greengrass. He is handsome, but is such a terrible lover that you can snore through the entire sex," Druella remarked, glancing at Maia and Walburga.

"That is enough! We are supposed to talk about me and my problems, not to speak about people disgracing their race with Muggles and how good someone is when it comes to mating! I don't give a damn about it!" Maia spat, jumping up on her feet.

"She's right – you two have really disgusting topics sometimes," Lucy agreed.

"Maia, you can't speak about sex as mating, it's too insensitive," Druella warned her. "Anyways, back to the original topic. I warned you not to be too close with Riddle – look what you have gotten yourself into – you'll have to spend your time cursing pure-bloods – don't think he'll let you slip out easily."

Maia shivered. No – Tom wasn't going to repeat it – this was something he felt obliged to do. His soul wasn't black enough to harm a pure-blood without reasons.

"That's not true."

"How can you be so sure? For all we know, he can one day get angered and do to you the same thing you and Dolohov did to that boy," Lucy said.

"No, Tom wouldn't harm me – I told you that we are friends," Maia stated, nervously plucking her hair.

"Look how messy it is – like a bird nest," Druella remarked, offering her a cigarette. "Take these, calm yourself down."

"No, thanks," Maia replied, taking the vial filled with crystalline liquid out of her pocket.

"What's that?" Walburga asked, grimacing.

"Nothing, just something to help me stay awake. I don't want to sleep tonight. I would probably have nightmares," Maia replied, uncorking the vial.

"I just hope you aren't taking drugs," Druella said sharply.

"No, this isn't a drug. Just a simple draught," Maia quickly justified herself, downing the vial.

Maia waited for a couple of seconds to witness the effects of the potions. Her sight reached the point of perfection, the things around her getting a sharp edge, the colors gaining a new brightness. Everything in front of her was as clear as crystal, all the tiredness she felt swept away by magic.

"Where are you going?" Druella asked as Maia went over to pick up her bag.

"To speak with Tom," Maia replied, trying to find her cloak.

Maia couldn't stand this anguishing doubt and Tom was the only one who could make it go away. The sooner she talked with him, the sooner everything would return to normal.