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“We could get him a Slytherin scarf.”
“He already has one you absolute buffoon,” Abraxas snapped, pinching the bridge of his nose. The Knights of Walpurgis sat around the fireplace in the Slytherin Common Room, desperately trying to decide what to get Tom Riddle for Christmas. For a poor orphan boy, he was surprisingly difficult to shop for. And Lestrange was of no help.
“What about-” Tiberius Rosier started.
Conrade Avery cut him off. “If you say golden cauldrons, I’ll hex you.”
Abraxas took a deep breath, sensing he needed to redirect the conversation. “Does anyone know what Tom wants, that he would find useful and intriguing, and that he doesn’t already have?”
Silence fell over the group.
“He finds that new mudblood intriguing,” Orion Black joked. “Maybe we should wrap him up as a present.”
Snicker and eye rolls abounded, but the words echoed in Abraxas’ head, long after the group gave up and went up to bed.
Maybe Harry Evans might be good for something after all.
It took a few days before Abraxas felt certain that the gift Tom Riddle would appreciate most was some alone time with the newest transfer student. Now that he was paying attention, he saw the way Tom’s eyes followed the mudblood around; the way he tried to sit next to him in classes; the curve of his lips in amusement when Evans made a stupid remark.
Abraxas couldn’t understand where the fascination came from, but honestly, he didn’t care. With Evans as their gift, the Knights of Walpurgis would save a lot of money on owl fees. And Rosier wasn’t that bad with transfiguration. They could make a nice bow too.
It took some time to get the other Knights on board, but once Abraxas pointed out their Lord’s obsession, they started to agree.
“I just can’t imagine what he could want the mudblood for,” Lestrange said, shaking his head.
“Either to fuck or to fight,” Avery answered.
“Don’t be crass,” Black sniffed.
“It’s true! I can’t tell if Riddle wants to jump his bones or bury them. Either way, I think it’s a brilliant idea! Let Riddle blow off some steam, win some appreciation from him, and take care of our little pest problem!” Avery was very excited to be in on the group gift. Last year, he had given Tom some socks and by Boxing Day, all of Avery’s socks had grown teeth. It took time to regrow toes, apparently.
“It’ll take some effort to pull this off,” Abraxas warned them. “We’ll need someone to distract Tom, someone to lure Evans away from others, and a couple of us to take him out.”
“Lestrange should distract Tom,” Avery said. “Just claim you’re about to fail potions again and he’ll spend the entire evening trying to pull his hair out explaining second year concepts to you.”
Laughter broke out, but before Lestrange could open his mouth to defend himself, Abraxas redirected the conversation.
“Black, you should lure Evans away from the Gryffindors.”
“Why me?”
“He seems to tolerate you best out of everyone. Merlin knows why,” Abraxas muttered. The rest of the Knights received their assignments without complaint and they separated, feeling buoyant at the promise of giving Tom exactly what he’d want for Christmas.
Avery, Black, Rosier, and Malfoy were surely enough to take on one stupid little mudblood. Avery said as much as they talked over the plan.
Black left them alone to corner Evans at the Great Hall, right as dinner was ending. The rest of them stood, waiting in an alcove off from the Entrance Hall. They stayed quiet, wanting to keep the element of surprise on their side. Malfoy couldn’t help but feel a little nervous about the entire situation. There were too many variables.
But when Black approached with Evans in tow, it was too late to back down.
Evans halted as soon as he noticed the other Knights in the corridor.
“What is this?” He asked, immediately defensive.
Malfoy didn’t waste time on a response, lifting his wand up to cast a stunning charm. Evans moved quickly, physically diving out of the way as he drew his wand. He managed to avoid the next few spells thrown in his direction and sent Rosier flying before they finally managed to subdue him.
“Feisty one, isn’t he?” Avery drawled, staring down at the limp form on the ground. With another flick of his wand, ropes sprung out and bound Evans up, so he wouldn’t be able to move even if he was awake. Black offered Rosier a hand. He’d gone flying into the wall and would no doubt have an angry bruise on the back of his head tomorrow.
“Let’s get him to the classroom,” Malfoy said. “We still need to wrap him.”
They levitated him down to the abandoned classroom they had picked out. They didn’t pass anyone on the way and Evans didn’t stir. Once inside, Rosier got to work transfiguring the ropes into ribbons and bows. The others set about making the classroom look more festive, hanging wreaths and garlands on the walls.
“Should we just leave him on the floor?” Rosier asked Malfoy, who had been dubbed the leader of the entire operation.
Malfoy frowned, staring at the mudblood. “Put him in a chair. Tom can do what he wants with him after.”
Rosier nodded, and soon Evans was propped up in a chair, wrapped in gold and green ribbons.
“We should wake him up,” Avery said, once the decorating had been completed.
“But then he might start yelling and ruin the surprise,” Black countered.
“We’ll leave him unconscious," Malfoy decided. “After all, we don’t know what Tom has planned.”
Tom could tell something was up. His Knights were never so quiet and reserved. They usually were jostling with each other at meals, trying to get Tom’s attention. They were disgusting in their attempts to prove some value in their lives.
But the past week, all of them remained tight lipped, sharing secret glances they were convinced Tom wouldn’t notice.
It was infuriating.
Tom always knew what his followers were up to. He knew their grades, their skills, their friends, and connections. He weighed their worth, constantly calculating if their presence would benefit him in any way. And now they were daring to keep things from him.
Which was why when Lestrange came to him in a panic, worried about failing potions, Tom almost told him to deal with the situation himself.
“My father will kill me,” Lestrange whined. “I promise you, Tom, I’d do anything for your help.”
“I’ll remember that,” Tom said, icily. “Where’s your essay?”
Lestrange handed it over, having the decency to look bashful. Tom made him sit in silence for several minutes as he went through the essay. The only sound was of his quill scratching out words and adding comments. The essay truly was atrocious. Almost unusually so.
“Have you been asleep in class the past few weeks?” Tom finally asked. Lestrange ducked his head.
“I do pay attention. This year has just been difficult.”
“I’m sure,” Tom said, dryly. He opened his mouth with the intention of continuing to belittle him, but they were interrupted by the arrival of a very flushed Abraxas Malfoy.
“My lord,” Malfoy greeted, looking far too smug.
“Abraxas. Where have you been hiding?”
“I apologize, my lord. There’s been a… development.”
Tom felt his rage building. Between his Knights’ strange behavior, Lestrange’s stupidity, and Malfoy’s smug expression, Tom was about to burst into flames. Or make someone else burst into flames. And it was so close to Christmas. It’d be a right shame to end up murdering someone this time of year.
Malfoy seemed to come to his senses, recognizing the danger that lurked behind Tom’s eyes.
“Would you like to see what we have been working on, my lord?” He quickly asked, expression turning subservient.
“Very well.” Tom tried to act uninterested. Truly, it couldn’t be anything worth his attention. His Knights were powerful in wizarding society, but many of them lacked ambition when it came to learning.
He and Lestrange followed Malfoy out of the common room and through the castle until they came to an unused classroom. The rest of his Knights stood outside the door, clearly waiting for his arrival, faces eager.
“Happy Christmas, my lord!” Several of them shouted out, bright smiles on their faces.
“What is this?” Tom asked, unimpressed. They went through all this trouble for what? A surprise holiday party?
“We wanted to give you your Christmas present early this year,” Black said.
“We didn’t think it would fit under a tree,” Avery added.
Tom looked over all their faces and they moved away from the door. He walked towards it, reaching a hand out to pull it open.
Inside a cheerily decorated classroom, sat the limp figure of Harry Evans, covered in tinsel and ribbons, and bound to a chair. Tom felt his pulse quicken. He licked his lips, but couldn’t speak.
“We hope you like it, my lord,” Avery said. “Do whatever you want with him.”
“You went through all this trouble,” Tom murmured. He stepped forward, reaching a hand out to lace his fingers through Evans’ hair and pull his head to the side, admiring the artery running through his neck.
“Do you like it?” Black asked, nervously. Tom withdrew his hand.
“You’ve done well. Now get out.”
The Knights rushed for the door and finally, Tom had alone time with Harry.