Hogwarts Castle in October 1943 was filled with the damp fall breeze and the smell of burning oak rising from every fireplace.
As darkness deepened outside the library window, Tom Riddle, wearing his Sixth-Year Prefect badge on his chest, had The Hidden Legacy of Ancient Magic open on his table. However, his gaze rested on his right index finger, which lay beneath the bookshelf. It was Marvolo Gaunt’s ring, set with a dull, grotesque black gem. Whenever he fiddled with that token of noble blood—which he had stolen last summer, stained with the blood of his wretched Muggle father—a cold, arrogant sense of satisfaction rose within Tom.
“Tom, are you studying here alone again?”
The voice that cut through the air sounded bright and soothing, yet terribly bothersome to Tom.
Constance Gordon-Lennox. A Sixth-Year Slytherin and the only daughter of one of the most influential pureblood families in the British wizarding world. With the hem of her fine silk robe fluttering in the breeze, she naturally took her seat on the chair opposite Tom. Her perfect features and sleek black hair, shining in the candlelight, seemed to change even the library’s dreary atmosphere.
“Constance.”
Tom changed his countenance in an instant. Completely concealing the disgust deep within his dark eyes, he flashed his signature warm, gentlemanly smile—one that had never once failed to fascinate the faculty and classmates alike.
“I was organizing Professor Slughorn’s assignments. As you know, I’m always short on time trying to juggle my duties as prefect with my academics.”
“You always try to be too perfect, that’s your problem.”
Constance rested her chin on her hand and gazed at Tom. She was completely infatuated. His neatly combed black hair, his sharp jawline that looked as if it had been severed, and above all, this outstanding genius boy who never lost his dignity despite his unfortunate background as an orphan. To her, Tom Riddle was more arrogant and alluring than any pureblood child at Hogwarts.
Constance spotted a strange ring on Tom’s right hand, and her eyes gleamed with curiosity.
“What is that ring? It looks quite antique. I haven’t seen it before.”
Tom’s finger flicked slightly for a moment. It had been only a few months since he had opened the Chamber of Secrets, killed Myrtle, and framed Hagrid. At this juncture, when Dumbledore’s surveillance was sharper than ever, it was not pleasant to see someone displaying Muggle-like curiosity about an object that could serve as a clue to his great masterpiece, the Horcrux.
‘A stupid, emotion-driven, idiotic girl.’
Tom scoffed coldly inwardly. Outside, Muggles were barbarically destroying themselves by raining bombs on one another, while inside the castle, these foolish children were distracted by their romantic games. Compared to his own great trajectory of yearning for eternal life and absolute power, Constance’s affectionate gaze was nothing more than crude noise.
However, Tom did not withdraw his hand. Instead, he lightly stroked the ring and let out a pitiful voice that sounded like a lament.
“…It is the only memento Mother left me. It is also the last trace of my bloodline. It is unimpressive, so it probably wouldn’t meet the standards of a noble family like yours.”
“What are you talking about, Tom?”
Constance’s eyes were momentarily tinged with pity and tenderness. As if Tom’s secret and solitary confession were a secret reserved only for her, she fell into the illusion that her heart was tightening.
“You are more elegant than any pureblood. You know that. After Professor Slughorn’s party next weekend, I would like to invite you to our family villa. If you are such an outstanding talent as you, Father will surely welcome you with pleasure.”
Constance reached out and gently placed her hand on the back of Tom’s.
Tom perfectly controlled the revulsion welling up inside him. The wealth of the Gordon-Lennox family, connections with the high ranks of the Ministry of Magic, and the countless avenues of power she would bring. This girl’s blind affection would become the most solid foundation of the circle within Slytherin that he would one day build. Her value to be exploited was overflowing.
Tom slowly turned his hand over and elegantly grasped Constance’s fingers. His dark eyes flickered peculiarly in the candlelight.
“How could I refuse an invitation from someone as gorgeous as you, Constance? It is an honor far too great for me.”
A sweet and perfect lie. Watching Constance’s cheeks blush, Tom Riddle smiled coldly from behind his mask.