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PG ... because it was dark... in the chamber.... oh, oh and he was hungover [Apr. 30th, 2005|02:59 pm]
Tom woke Wednesday morning with a vicious hang over, and the taste of vomit in his mouth. More accurately he woke up Wednesday afternoon. He could hear a steady drip and the clamor of footsteps sounding on stone high above. It was lunchtime and students were pouring out of classrooms and down the halls.

Tom's stomach lurched. He opened his eyes and sat up. His left sleeve was crusted over with throw-up, and there was a bruise on his forehead where he had hit the ground. The ground, itself, was scattered with the skeletal corpses of thousands of small rodents.

Where am I?

He struggled to his feet. The walls were carved with serpents whose jeweled eyes glittered at him in the dark.

The Chamber

The hall extended on into the shadow. Rubbing his forehead he took his wand from his pocket and whispered, "lumos."

The corridor was alight with the sparkle a thousand ruby eyes off until forever. His breath caught in his chest.

The Chamber

Years he had wondered where it was. Years he had searched the school. Just when he'd given up he stumbled into it without so much as a thought toward it. He cursed himself for disregarding the un-searched lavatories.

With quick step he made way down the hall, the hissing of pipes a gentle lullaby. The corridor seemed to go on forever until an enormous iron door rose up before him.

"Open," he said without a thought. The door opened with a hiss, and he was there, in a great chamber of stone, lined with towering pillars, serpents made of stone. He walked warily down the room to where stood an enormous statue. The face was unmistakable. Tapestries of him lined the common room. Sketches of him lined Tom's memories of dark arts books.

"Salazar Slytherin," Riddle hissed with a violent grin.
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G Rated [Apr. 11th, 2005|03:20 pm]
Tom walked down into the common room monday morning, his nose deep in a book of Runes. The weekend had passed without event. He hadn't attended the swingdance. Why would he? The boy was an exceptional dancer, having exactly the right build for it, but he had no desire. There was nothing about music that compelled him to move. He felt nothing, but then, he never felt anything.

He made his way through the common room, verving a group of first year girls who stood in his way. Breakfast. His stomach was still adjusting to food. He had eaten almost nothing all summer, for fear he would be infected with the Muggle sickness. Food prepared by elves was almost as bad as that of Muggles, but he could handle it.

The great hall was swarming.

He serveyed the crowd. It was almost as bad there as it had been in London. He could see it in their faces, he could see the Muggle blood. So few were pure anymore. It was a race that was becoming infected. It was the tragedy of the Wizard Race.

He sat at the Slytherin table beside Jereth, serving himself a bowl full of porridge, and began to eat.
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RATED G [Mar. 26th, 2005|09:47 pm]
The castle rose up in the distance, a specter of black dotted with a thousand windows of light. Tiny little figures moved about inside one of the larger windows.

Staff meeting, Tom thought.

The coach in which they sat hit a bump and the whole carriage jumped. Tom, thin as a skeleton was thrown in the air—everyone was—but none quite so high as he. He hit his head on the satin ceiling, and put a tender hand to his oil-slick hair.

"Are you all right?" Acacia asked.

"Fine," he replied, pretending to adjust his hair, "just fine."

The carriage rolled on into the darkness until the fleet came to the front steps. Hundreds of students poured out of the coaches into the night. Once all other passengers had exited Tom slid along the seat and stepped out onto the first step, looking about, breathing the fresh air. It was so pure he nearly choked. The harsh change from the smog of London did him no favor, and the sight of the thestrals that pulled the carriages only worsened his demeanor. They were hideous things. Ever since the first time he saw one he found them repulsive.

"Are you coming, Tom?" Acacia looked at his blank gaze with mild discomfort.

Tom nodded and descended more fully from the carriage, taking her arm and heading toward the castle, just one of the blind masses.

ooc:I know I didn't ask permission before powerplaying Acacia. Forgive me? I tried calling you but you weren't picking up. You're probably out of service, and basically this post needed to be made. WE MUST GET THIS YEAR STARTED... NOW ...plus... it's not a very big power play... it's kinda itty bitty.

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RATED: PG for serious themes *gasp* [Mar. 18th, 2005|11:57 pm]
Tom walked with a quick but steady pace, his head straightforward, his eyes unseeing, his face gaunt, as though he hadn't eaten in several days. His eyes were bloodshot. He hadn't slept. A letter was sitting, folded tight in his pocket, the paper creased deep as though it had been folded and unfolded over and over again. It was a short letter, to the point.


I'll be in town tomorrow. Meet me outside Grimm's?


For the first time all summer he felt self conscious, crossing though the leaky cauldron in his shabby muggle clothes. As he crossed into the alley out back he chanced to remove his wand from his pocket, and point it at himself whispering what few transfiguration spells he knew that would aide his predicament. He figured that it would be impossible for the ministry to trace his doing magic in such close proximity to so many wizards, and besides, he would be far away in a few minutes.

As the spells took their effect his shabby, gray jumper became the pinstripe robes of a gentleman, and his faded trousers like new. He wasn't one for fashion; he had no taste for it. Clothes were simply clothes, but women required some... visual reminder of greatness. The clothes made the man, or so it seemed.

He walked briskly though the opening that appeared in the brick wall and made his way down Knock Turn Alley where the sun ceased to shine and the world became black with soot from ages of fire and sin. Tom moved quickly, praying the soot wouldn't dirty his magically glossy wing tips.

And then she was there. Just ahead of him. A vision of beautiful silken skin.

She smiled when he came into view. She always had.

He approached, allowing a small smile to play across his lips. She would like the reminder. And when he was before her he put a hand on her chin and kissed her swiftly on the lips.

"Then how was your summer, Ace?" he asked, smirking at the fluster she tried to conceal.
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