Warnings: Possible OOC, non-magic!futuristic(?)!fiction!AU, loosely based off of/inspired by Chobits and Angelic Layer (both anime and manga, go read or watch it seriously that stuff is cute), I shouldn't be starting anymore fics but seriously what can you do when your Muse strikes, good!grandfatherly!I-just-want-everyone-to-be-happy!sorta-plotting!Dumbledore, alive!sick!Merope, dead!not-a-wife-abandoning-scum!TomRiddleSr., not-dark!just-a-hard-childhood!mother's-boy-but-still-mature!Tom

Pairing: TMR/HP, (established/light/married) LE/JP

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, obviously. If I did, the series wouldn't be done right now and the pairing would be LV-TMR/HP.

Fighting speed with speed, Tom thought with narrowed eyes. As if they could outplay him and Hadrian! How arrogant. But no matter, they would know their place soon. Hadrian would be stronger—faster—

"Allegro," he commanded, and his Marionette obeyed.

"Tch," ground the opposing Master. "Boost Up!"

The audience was silent, the MC watching with a tense gaze. The Marionettes moved rapidly, darting across the field only as a blur, each trying to get a blow against the other. Sometimes they collided, and the sound echoed through the arena, but the hit was never dangerous enough to push either of them out of the ring—or as a fatal blow.

Tom tired of this quickly. "Allegrissimo," he called, and Hadrian's speed increased to near maximum. He moved so swiftly that it was hard to tell if his feet ever touched the ground, the blur of silver and black a force to be reckoned with as his movements proved unpredictable.

The opposing Marionette was forced to go on the defensive, but Hadrian was having none of that. He could feel his master's impatience, and those feelings bled through to become his own. The command came through thought rather than voice. Stick on to him, slow the pace—keep the beat quick but the time slow. And Hadrian understood.

Using the rapidity that was granted from the Allegrissimo command, he stuck onto his foe, never letting him out of his range. Kicks to the front, jabs flying, dodge, feint, keep him close.

"Storm's Crescendo." The command wasn't unexpected. He had even been trying to give his master the opportunity to do something like this. The tempo of his performance slowed, forcing his opponent to follow his lead, allowing him to draw him into a harsh, violent dance.

Electricity sparked from his limbs, increasing in voltage until finally—Hadrian swung. Speed and power surged from his attack, combined with the sparks of lightning element, pushing the unfortunate opponent three meters away out of the ring. The crowd, predictably, went wild for the show they had just gotten.

"—And there you have it, folks! Tom Riddle will advance to the next round, competing against the other 5 finalists! Or, should we say that they're competing against him—?"

Tom didn't bother to stick around and revel in the victory. He had already gone through such experiences before, it was too repetitive and he didn't care much for the fame. All he needed to do was flash a charming smile, wave to the crowd, and his departure was set.

At the last second before exiting completely, he turned back to sneak a look at Hadrian, who met his gaze and smiled before he vanished. It was somehow a reassuring comfort, though why and for what he didn't know.

"Ha… so yet another victory for the ever popular Tom Riddle, hmm?"

Back in the waiting room for the tournament's participants, Tom turned to see Abraxas Malfoy lean casually against a wall. He was heir to a rather rich and influential family, and his participation in the quickly growing game seemed to be only for pure pleasure.

He was not like Tom, and though that didn't bother the champion in the least, the way Abraxas was ever so insistent to face off against him was. True, the Malfoy made a good challenge despite the fact that he had never won against Tom, but there was just something about him that made the possibility to befriend the blond neigh impossible.

Not that he wanted to, anyways. He didn't have time for friends.

"You say that as if it was surprising," Tom replied in kind, tone mild and neutral.

Abraxas smiled. "I really was rooting for the other side in the beginning, you know—but using Hadrian right off the bat crushed any chance at winning for the poor amateur. You're really set on winning this, aren't you?"

Tom ignored the jab. Most likely due to his earlier conversation with one Lily Potter, the tournament's prize money had been doubled—for whoever came out as the victor. The implication that he badly needed that, whether such was right or wrong, was not something worth getting worked up over. "You seem the same," he commented evenly.

The blond stiffened slightly, and then he pushed off the wall to stroll lightly towards Tom. "I have my reasons. And this time, Evan and I will win—not you. We might've been defeated a few times in the past, but this time, we know Hadrian's weakness. You won't win."

Tom was unfazed. "You won't be fighting against just Hadrian. Weakness, to us, is inconsequential."

For the first time since their conversation had started, Abraxas made an ugly face. A darkened look crossed over his normally lighter expression, putting the champion on guard. "I respect you, Riddle. You're intelligent, you're skilled, and you know what you can do with those attributes. That's always important. But you have never faced off against the determination of a Malfoy, and I recommend you don't," he paused, letting his words sink in before uttering one single warning. "Forfeit."

The command fell on unwilling ears. "If that was an attempt at a threat," Tom drawled, "then I must respectably tell you that they don't work on those who are stronger than you. And if that was an attempt at an unsaid promise, I'll be sure to shatter it beyond repair."

Abraxas shook his head. "I have a lot at stake, and I won't let you get in the way of that. I was merely hoping to save you from the humiliation of defeat, but since you've so obviously ignored my warning, I'll see you next in the Arena."

He walked away, his words acknowledged but whether or not Tom put any real thought to them, he did not know.

Because, unbeknownst to him, Tom had quite an investment in the tournament too.

"So, you want us to test him?" Daphne Greengrass asked with her arms crossed as she stared directly at the Ether Co. employee.

"I admit, Mr. Riddle's Marionette is… one we have quite the investment in," Lily sighed.

"I know," the eldest Greengrass daughter curtly replied. "Don't forget that Astoria is in your little project as well, giving me full rights to know who he is. But it doesn't matter anyways—Hadrian might be the first, but Astoria is one of the original Five too. You want me to test him? I'll test him."

Lily bit her lip. "Thank you," she murmured softly. "Your payment will immediately be transferred over."

"As long as my sister is given the best care she can possibly receive in this new attempt of yours, whatever's fine."

Not deterred in the least by the cold, standoffish attitude that the Master emitted, Lily nodded her head in acceptance. She understood that feeling perfectly well—families counted on this. Her fullest effort would undoubtedly be put into her work.

For James. For Harry. For everyone.

"Of course. Expect nothing less, Miss Greengrass."

"Then, in return, Astoria and I will demolish him to open his eyes. After all, there's no use in coveting his participation if he isn't well-qualified. Being the reigning champion means absolutely nothing."

The Ether Co. employee understood very well what this meant. She squeezed her eyes shut as the blonde walked away, sending her prayers to her son. It'll hurt, Harry, but not for long. I promise you that. And if Tom Riddle isn't suited, then there's no need for you to stay with him any longer than you already have. You picked him, but he must choose you too.

But there was another wild card thrown into the mix. Abraxas Malfoy was nothing to shirk at either—though he was not as affected as Tom Riddle was by his unique Marionette, the fact that Evan chose him would be taken into account as well. But Evan was not one of the original Five, so there was no way that they could possibly win…

And yet the stubborn heir had insisted that his challenge be in the Winter Tournament. Men, Lily sighed to herself. It was true, the Malfoy did not know anything of Ether Co.'s projects, or what his marionette actually was, but there was a clear-cut camaraderie between him and Evan, one that was indeed undeniable in nature, so it certainly was a sad day indeed. If only he had not chosen the same tournament as Tom Riddle… if only they stood a chance…

And if, out of some pure chance of luck, Abraxas Malfoy succeeded in defeating Hadrian's Master, then he would still have to pass the Greengrass sisters, and that… that was…

Would it be too depressing if she were to say "unthinkable"?

Tom surveyed the other Masters who loitered about in the waiting room's main lobby. After Abraxas had left him at the entrance, the champion had finally been able to take note of all of the Masters he knew that were participating, and there were quite a bit—no surprise there. He did not think much of them, perhaps one or two had caused him trouble in the past but now he was stronger, wiser, more experienced, and his confidence was not to be mistaken as arrogance.

This time, he did not think he could win. He knew it. Not to mention, Hadrian also would never accept defeat at the hands of someone who they had won against before, and, though that determination might seem odd in a Marionette, Tom knew it was not something to belittle either. Hadrian's AI was so daringly close to an actual human intelligence—his performance was constant, true, but there were little things that almost hinted at emotions, which drove him to try harder, to last longer, to keep his feet on the ground even though under normal conditions he would've been sent flying.

So Tom trusted in himself and his partner. That was all there was to it.

Though, this time around, there was someone who might cause some significant stir to the large pot. A super rookie, one would most likely call her. Hermione Granger was hardly a woman, still at the young age of fifteen, but it was said that she was rather intelligent and quick on her feet to think up new strategies.

From an average family consisting of two dentists as parents, she wasn't anything amazing, and yet somehow she had been able to take the Arena by storm several months ago. Granger only had one Marionette, and yet that single partner had served her well.

It was rumored that she had received that Ether Necklace as a gift, having originally been created in Germany. How long she had it before she began to participate actively in Ether Arena, no one knew, but her coordination with her partner was certainly not that of a mere newbie's.

Tom had to admit that she had potential. But now, as she was, still raw like the unpolished ore of a diamond, she stood no chance against him, no matter how strong her Marionette was rumored to be. It didn't matter if she made all of the strategies she possibly could in the world, practicing them for hours on end until she finally felt confident to go up against him. That didn't matter in the least, because she lacked the pure experience necessary to defeat the strongest of the strong in the Arena.

If they ever faced off against each other, Tom resolved to utterly crush her. There was no point in leaving alone a struggling bud that assumed it was blooming.

He dispassionately watched her leave the waiting room, heading to where she would verse off against another Master that had left as well. Perhaps in the future, Hermione Granger would prove troublesome, but Tom knew he too was improving every day, refining his techniques and style and knowledge to a fine, cutting edge blade that would slice through any and all of his opponents. By the time she reached a level where she would prove a challenge, Tom estimated he would've already left her far in the dust.

But who knew what the future had in mind. No one could control the unexpected factor that humans, annoying as they were, possessed. Tom knew that, and he knew it well.

He would not underestimate her, but he would not overestimate her either.

"Is something on your mind, master?" Hadrian asked curiously as they finished their training session for the day. They had breezed through the second round of the tournament, not finding any difficult challenges during that time. But Tom had seemed distracted, and his Marionette took note of it.

Tom looked at him thoughtfully. "No," he murmured. "Nothing at all. Don't concern yourself with it, Hadrian."

The Marionette nodded. "Alright, master."

He paused. "On second thought… are there things that you can tell me… about your programming?"

Hadrian blinked before frowning. "The specifics are confidential. Password required to unlock data."

"In general, then."

"It depends, master. What would you like to know?"

He didn't quite know how to explain it. After all, he had only found out through his instincts—before they fought in their last match of the day, Tom had somehow locked eyes with a female he had only seen twice before, and it had immediately set him on the edge. There was something about her that had incited his caution, put him on guard.

So he researched her—Daphne Greengrass.

And what he found was… somewhat unsettling. He knew commands could be transferred through thought, but the extent the Greengrass girl took it surpassed all of his own attempts. Her nickname, the Silent Ice Queen, was not exaggerated in the least. She did not call commands all too much to her Marionette unless the battle became heated, and even then, the silence that engulfed her side of the Arena threw many of her opponents off instinctually.

If Tom were to win all of his matches, which he certainly predicted he would, then he would face off against her in his last match of the third round. Her silence was a disadvantage for him, true, but he was confident enough in his abilities and quick observation skills. However, as low key of a Master as she was, her own skills definitely were not lacking either.

Not to mention, of course, Daphne Greengrass' main Marionette, Astoria, was a ranged evasive ice wielder and, due to her element, was able to change the terrain of the arena. True, it wasn't as bad as going up against an earth elemental, but all the same the match would not be easy…

"Is it possible for you to listen to silent commands?"

"But master, don't I already do that?"

"I mean to take it a step further," Tom tried to explain. "Is it possible… to transfer full length strategies through the link?"

Hadrian frowned, thinking seriously upon the question. "It is not in the link's software to accept such heavy communication," he finally said. "If one were to try to force too much data through the link, it would break. After all, one of Ether Arena's key features is the voice command. However, master, there is something close to what you're describing."

"And that is?"

"Within my memory capacity, I am able to store information about my master, which allows for coordination plays. The more I become accustomed to you, the more I am able to predict what you would like to happen next, and as such, I will be able to act accordingly. This is what a major part of my memory capacity allows me to store. However, if one were to hypothetically boost this type of information to the maximum, filling most if not all of the Marionette's memory with data solely about battle with their Master, then the prediction ability is taken a step further."

"How far can it go?" Tom persisted.

"…I am unsure. A Marionette's memory capacity is not made in such a way for the hypothetical situation to occur. It is almost impossible to train in such a way to cause the prediction ability to begin to branch out into full, different scenarios and to choose one to play out, adjusting it accordingly. This would indeed allow for an almost silent coordination play, but one must tamper with the Marionette's system to do so. To do that, there is a password required, and authorization is needed from specific Ether employees."

"What about…" he paused, "what about you? Not Marionettes in general. Do you think it is possible?" Tom needed to account for the possibility that there were Marionettes out there like Hadrian. Daphne Greengrass would prove to be a difficult opponent if his theory proved true.

Hadrian faltered. "…My system is older from other, more recent Marionettes, that is true," he began slowly, "however, strict permission is required for the tampering of any Marionette system, and, unless the change in software was made during the time of creation, the authorization of specific Ether employees as well as a password is needed to allow for such possibilities."

Tom felt that his partner's words were getting slightly, if not completely, robotic, bringing back the reality that Hadrian was simply an AI. Well, in the end, perhaps it didn't matter all too much. Even if he couldn't discover how Greengrass was pulling off her silent act, it wouldn't stop him from winning the tournament. The prize money, combined with what had in addition been offered…

Yes, the Winter Tournament was simply too high-stakes to lose.

He dismissed his Marionette, disconnecting their link as he took off the collar. The Ether Necklace once again hung around his neck, and as he left the Rings, Tom could not help but feel the itch that always overcame him when he knew something was distinctly… off.

Urg, so I completely forgot where I was going with this story LOL. But I've had this on my computer for awhile, and knew some people were waiting for it, so well, might as well, right?

Haha. But seriously, don't expect another chapter soon xD.

Happy Holidays!

Sincerely,

R.R.