Challenge #94 - The Thestral Challenge
Title: Shadows of Power
Rating: PG
Character(s): Tom Riddle
Author's Notes: This is the first one of these, in fact the first writing at all, that I've done in months! 35 minutes, including a brief foray onto HP Lexicon for a panicky time-line check.
He had always known there was something there. Ever since his second year, he’d had a sense of something, a shadow out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of reflected light off something which wasn’t quite there. It hadn’t scared him like it might have done other children his age. Instead, he had been angry. How dare something hide from him? How could anything have the nerve to try to deceive him? As he grew, so did this sense of indignation. Year after year, he realised how special he was, even among these unusual people. He was more, he was better. Yet the not-there presence never became any more solid to him. Throughout the school year, he managed to put aside the frustration. There were, after all, many other things to fascinate him, other skills to learn, other tricks to uncover. But, at the start of the journey back to that hated place which would never, never be “home”, he would find himself staring at the empty space in the front of the carriage and he would seethe.
It never occurred to the boy to ask someone about the nothing-things. Normally so articulate, so adept at manipulation, he was also intelligent enough to know when he was beaten. It was rare enough, after all. It wasn’t that he thought nobody could give him an answer. It was the question itself that threw him. “Excuse me, Professor, you know how there’s nothing pulling the school carriages? Could you tell me what that nothing is?” Or, even worse, “I can see something, but it’s invisible. What is it?” It would make him look more than ignorant, he would seem simply ridiculous and he would rather die than that. So, year by year, he squinted at the space, willing the shadow of a shadow to become solid. If anyone saw him doing that and had the audacity to question him, he would snap, “I’m thinking. Maybe you should try it some time.” It seemed to work. He was known as a brilliant, introspective child, one who seemed to know things that others didn’t. Of course he would be thinking when all of the other pupils had switched off their brains for the summer holidays.
This year had been a year of change. Although not an adult by the standards of the Wizarding world, this year had been a rite of passage and he was a child no more. The paltry badge had been a start, he supposed. It was a useful tool, giving him a little more space for the official spreading of his wings. He had never been particularly bothered to respect the authority of the school, paying it attention only when it suited him, but it made life easier to been seen as respectable. He had used that to its utmost and made a discovery so breathtaking that it had made those childhood years of insecurity almost worthwhile. This was his destiny. This was what made him the most special of all of those special people. He was better than any of them, than all of them. And someone with his power had no limits. Normal rules could not possibly be expected to apply.
It took him a while to realise what this power - and its manifestation - meant. At first, it had been no more something to proclaim his brilliance and heritage. Later, he had begun to use it as a toy. There was a savage joy in letting the creature roam free about the school, a thrill almost sensual in the realisation that he and he alone could control it. Soon enough, though, even that hadn’t been enough. That was when he let it kill that stupid girl. And he thought, at that shining moment, that nothing could ever beat the feeling of triumph.
The feeling faded, of course. Then there was all the business of the staff wanting to close the school, and he knew that he still needed the school for the time being. There were still people to be used. So he had to hide the creature and hide his own superiority with it. But, knowing so much more about what he was, he had the craving to know more. This summer, at least, would have purpose.
He has been so caught up in that purpose, in all that he intended, that he has almost forgotten about the nothing-shadows pulling the carriages. Approaching them now, he is startled into immobility for a moment by the solidity, the reality of the animals standing there. They are magnificent, he thinks. The hide is so absolutely black that it seems a true manifestation of darkness. Yes, light would be a shadow of these beings. The young man shakes off his stillness and makes his way to the front of the carriage. One of the beings turns a skeletal head and looks past a furled wing to catch his eyes. The young man meets the dead-seeming white stare with a cool, level gaze.
It is the thestral which turns away first.
Rating: PG
Character(s): Tom Riddle
Author's Notes: This is the first one of these, in fact the first writing at all, that I've done in months! 35 minutes, including a brief foray onto HP Lexicon for a panicky time-line check.
He had always known there was something there. Ever since his second year, he’d had a sense of something, a shadow out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of reflected light off something which wasn’t quite there. It hadn’t scared him like it might have done other children his age. Instead, he had been angry. How dare something hide from him? How could anything have the nerve to try to deceive him? As he grew, so did this sense of indignation. Year after year, he realised how special he was, even among these unusual people. He was more, he was better. Yet the not-there presence never became any more solid to him. Throughout the school year, he managed to put aside the frustration. There were, after all, many other things to fascinate him, other skills to learn, other tricks to uncover. But, at the start of the journey back to that hated place which would never, never be “home”, he would find himself staring at the empty space in the front of the carriage and he would seethe.
It never occurred to the boy to ask someone about the nothing-things. Normally so articulate, so adept at manipulation, he was also intelligent enough to know when he was beaten. It was rare enough, after all. It wasn’t that he thought nobody could give him an answer. It was the question itself that threw him. “Excuse me, Professor, you know how there’s nothing pulling the school carriages? Could you tell me what that nothing is?” Or, even worse, “I can see something, but it’s invisible. What is it?” It would make him look more than ignorant, he would seem simply ridiculous and he would rather die than that. So, year by year, he squinted at the space, willing the shadow of a shadow to become solid. If anyone saw him doing that and had the audacity to question him, he would snap, “I’m thinking. Maybe you should try it some time.” It seemed to work. He was known as a brilliant, introspective child, one who seemed to know things that others didn’t. Of course he would be thinking when all of the other pupils had switched off their brains for the summer holidays.
This year had been a year of change. Although not an adult by the standards of the Wizarding world, this year had been a rite of passage and he was a child no more. The paltry badge had been a start, he supposed. It was a useful tool, giving him a little more space for the official spreading of his wings. He had never been particularly bothered to respect the authority of the school, paying it attention only when it suited him, but it made life easier to been seen as respectable. He had used that to its utmost and made a discovery so breathtaking that it had made those childhood years of insecurity almost worthwhile. This was his destiny. This was what made him the most special of all of those special people. He was better than any of them, than all of them. And someone with his power had no limits. Normal rules could not possibly be expected to apply.
It took him a while to realise what this power - and its manifestation - meant. At first, it had been no more something to proclaim his brilliance and heritage. Later, he had begun to use it as a toy. There was a savage joy in letting the creature roam free about the school, a thrill almost sensual in the realisation that he and he alone could control it. Soon enough, though, even that hadn’t been enough. That was when he let it kill that stupid girl. And he thought, at that shining moment, that nothing could ever beat the feeling of triumph.
The feeling faded, of course. Then there was all the business of the staff wanting to close the school, and he knew that he still needed the school for the time being. There were still people to be used. So he had to hide the creature and hide his own superiority with it. But, knowing so much more about what he was, he had the craving to know more. This summer, at least, would have purpose.
He has been so caught up in that purpose, in all that he intended, that he has almost forgotten about the nothing-shadows pulling the carriages. Approaching them now, he is startled into immobility for a moment by the solidity, the reality of the animals standing there. They are magnificent, he thinks. The hide is so absolutely black that it seems a true manifestation of darkness. Yes, light would be a shadow of these beings. The young man shakes off his stillness and makes his way to the front of the carriage. One of the beings turns a skeletal head and looks past a furled wing to catch his eyes. The young man meets the dead-seeming white stare with a cool, level gaze.
It is the thestral which turns away first.