The Aetherium Bargain: A Tom Riddle Story
Warnings: None, if there is any let me know <3
Thursday evening found Elara heading toward the library, her mind already consumed by the complex runic structures Tom had mentioned. She hadn’t told her friends where she was going; the secrecy now felt less like a necessity and more like a shared privilege.
Tom was waiting for her just outside the restricted section, the light of his small lamp, casting long, skeletal shadows across the shelves. He carried a single, massive, crumbling volume under his arm.
“Good evening, Elara,” he greeted, his voice low. He did not smile broadly, maintaining the air of focused purpose.
He motioned for her to follow him. “The knowledge we must pursue tonight is too fragile for the main study areas. Bloodline magic is easily disturbed by passing thoughts. I’ve found a better space.”
He led her down a narrow, forgotten corridor, past stacks of heavily enchanted, useless volumes, until they reached the door of an unused classroom near the dungeons. It was cold, silent, and felt intensely removed from the rest of the castle. He cast a quick, silent muffliato charm on the door.
“Here,” Tom said, gesturing to her inside. The room was dominated by a large, smooth, stone table in the centre, perfect for spreading out ancient texts. “This space is secure. No one ever comes here. We can focus completely on the most obscure elements of your lineage.”
Elara pulled out a chair as Tom carefully laid out the vast, heavy book. He flipped through the archaic, dense script until he reached a specific illustration - a solitary figure holding a glowing crest, a crest strikingly similar to her necklace.
“We’re continuing our work on ancestral pacts,” Tom began, his tone entirely academic. “I found the specific source of that family tale you mentioned last week. The ‘Legend of the Keeper and the Serpent’s Price.’ Rings a bell, doesn’t it?”
Elara leaned in, her eyes tracing the image. “Yes. My parents only ever referred to it as an old Solis story. A kind of cautionary tale.”
“According to the myth,’ Tom continued, tracing the lines of the illustration with a sharp finger, “your ancestor, Cassius Solis, possessed a magic so unique he encased it in a protective vessel, the Aetherium Lock, to shield it from a powerful rival who sought immortal control.” He spoke the names casually, as if quoting a passage from Beedle the Bard.
“The tale then claims the Solis line holds the key to the Lock, bound into their very bloodline. A lovely, romantic notion of ancestral defence,” Tom said, a slight, patronising chuckle escaping him. “But entirely impractical. Bloodline inheritance doesn’t manifest as a physical key. We’re only interested because the conceptual power of the Lock, the supposed willing transference of magical identity, is relevant to our Charters work.”
Elara relaxed, seeing his purely theoretical interest. “I tried to ask my mother about the Lock once. She told me to never mention the name outside the family. They’re obsessively private about our history.”
“Understandable,” Tom murmured, closing the book. “History, especially ancient history, is often treated like a secret treasure. But we must treat it like a functional tool.”
Tom leaned back slightly, shifting his focus entirely from the text to Elara herself. The silence in the abandoned room was total.
“You’ve applied yourself to the Runes notes you’ve made with characteristic depth Elara. Your analysis of the early protective oaths was remarkably insightful.” He paused, letting the genuine academic praise sink in. Then, his eyes dropped briefly to her face, a look of focused, quiet admiration replacing the academic concentration. “Your mind possesses a remarkable clarity Elara,” he continued softly. “It is visible, even. Your eyes, they hold the colour of deep amber, yet they never look away from the facts on the page. It’s a compelling reflection of your focus. It suits the meticulousness required of your Solis heritage.”
The compliment was delivered smoothly, linking her physical beauty to her intellectual rigor. Elara felt a deep warmth spread through her chest. It wasn’t the kind of empty flirtation she received from other boys, this was validation.
“It must be difficult for you, Elara, to find true equals in the Ravenclaw common room,” he remarked, his voice carrying the faint suggestion of a mutual, high standard. “Most students here value noise over knowledge, and are obsessed with trivial, passing concerns. We’ve been sitting here for an hour, exploring concepts that predate Hogwarts, yet I doubt anyone even noticed we left.”
He shook his head slightly, subtly implying their superiority.
“It is a relief to find someone who appreciates the silence and the depth of inquiry. This work is too important to be diluted by trivial distractions or childish friendships.”
He was carefully severing the emotional link between Elara and her friends’ skeptical warnings, replacing it with a far stronger bond: the sense of shared, superior purpose.
Tom gathered his notes, rolling up the parchment with a final, decisive snap.
“We’ve accomplished a great deal tonight Elara,” he summarised, his tone warm with professional approval. “We know the theorised key isn’t physical, and the guard mechanism is likely tied to some form of ancestral magical oath. But this kind of deep research requires immense focus, and one must guard against intellectual burnout.”
He stopped, and his expression softened slightly, shifting from the brilliant academic to the charismatic Head Boy.
“I’ve also found that you are a vastly more interesting conversationalist than anyone else in this castle Elara. We should step away from the parchment for a moment.” He gave a small, controlled smile. “Hogsmeade is open this weekend. I am required to make an appearance for Head Boy duties, but I find such duties highly tedious alone.”
He looked directly at her, making the invitation feel like a significant, personal choice.
“Accompany me to the Three Broomsticks on Saturday. We can have a butterbeer. I want to learn more about the person who possesses such a rare mind and heritage. I want to understand what Elara Solis desires for her future, beyond the confines of a textbook.”
The invitation was flattering, a request for social companionship from the school’s most unattainable student, framed as a welcome respite from serious work. It subtly shifted the focus from her brain to her self, a crucial step in building emotional attachment.
Elara was momentarily stunned. A date with Tom Riddle? The academic admiration she felt was immediately compounded by a sudden rush of excitement and surprise.
“I… I would like that very much Tom,” she managed, her voice light with pleasure.
Tom offered her a final, brief, yet potent smile of agreement. “Excellent. Saturday then.”
He stood up, gave a final, authoritative nod, and walked swiftly out of the classroom, leaving Elara alone in the cold silence. She touched the Aetherium crest on her neck, no longer thinking about ancestral oaths, but about the weekend.
Robin was simply wrong. Tom Riddle wasn’t a cold monster; he was a brilliant, thoughtful partner who was now inviting her into his private world. He saw her value, both in her intellect and, she now dared to hope, as a person.
But, although she had secured the notice of the most important student in the school, she failed to see the manipulation had successfully transitioned to a new, dangerously personal phase.
Elara arrived back in the Ravenclaw dormitory much later than usual, flushed with excitement of her meeting with Tom and the prospect of their upcoming Hogsmeade trip. Nancy and Robin were both settled in, stacks of textbooks ignored in favour of waiting for her.
The moment Elara closed the door, Nancy bolted upright.
“There you are!” Nancy cried, throwing a pillow playfully at her. “We were ready to send a search party to the fifth floor boys’ bathrooms. Spill it Solis. Where in the world have you been for the last two hours?”
Robin looked up from her threadwork, her expression already laced with concern.
“We know you weren’t just reading ancient runes Elara,” Robin added, her voice softer but firm. “You missed supper again. Did you finally track down that obscure text on binding charms?”
Elara dropped her bag and leaned against the wardrobe, unable to suppress a secretive, please smile.
“I was with Tom Riddle,” she admitted, deciding to simply state the fact and gauge the reaction.
Nancy immediately threw a hand dramatically over her heart. “I knew it! The Roman Statue of a boy! What did he say? Did he ask you to be his partner in a secret Head Boy mission? Did he confess his undying love for your brilliance?”
“No, and no, Nancy,” Elara chuckled, pulling out her pajamas. “We were in the deepest, quietest part of the castle, an unused classroom. We were researching ancient bloodline pacts for my Charters work, tracing the roots of my family’s protective magic.”
“In a cold, dark, unused classroom?” Nancy wiggled her eyebrows. “That sounds precisely like the setting for a very interesting Head Boy mission.”
“It was purely academic,” Elara insisted, though she felt the need to share the exciting details. “He also invited me to Hogsmeade this weekend. To the Three Broomsticks, for butterbeer.”
Nancy let out a genuine squeal of delight. “He asked you on a date! Elara, that is a date! The most popular, most brilliant boy in the school wants to spend his precious Saturday with you. You have to tell me every single detail of what you’ll wear!”
Robin, however, placed her threadwork silently on her bedside table. Her previous gentle concern had solidified into distinct worry.
“Elara, listen to me,” Robin said, her tone serious enough to immediately quiet Nancy. “I know he’s charming. I know he’s clever. But I’ve heard things.”
“What things Robin?” Elara asked, irritated that her friend couldn’t simply be happy for her.
“Dark things. About where his research leads,” Robin pressed, leaning forward. “He doesn’t just study Elara. He manipulates. He only associates with people who can further his own power. He’s surrounded by followers, not friends. You are incredibly intelligent but you are also very trusting. Your family is ancient Elara. If he thinks your family’s history holds some kind of secret advantage, he will use you to get it.”
“That’s ridiculous Robin!” Elara snapped, feeling defensive of Tom. “He’s Head Boy! He’s trying to stabilise the world, he just wants order. He respects my mind and my knowledge of obscure magic, he told me I was the only person who understood the complexity of his research.”
“That’s the exact reason I’m worried! He shouldn’t be discussing deep bloodline pacts with you in an empty classroom Elara! That’s not N.E.W.T level study, that’s dangerous research,” Robin argued, her voice rising slightly, “And now Hogsmeade? That’s his way of making you relax, of making you believe this is a real relationship so you let your guard down.”
Nancy tried to intervene, waving her hand. “Oh come on Robin. Maybe he just wants a gorgeous, smart girl on his arm for once, instead of one of those drooling Slytherins.”
“No,” Robin insisted, ignoring Nancy and focusing solely on Elara. “I heard a rumour from a seventh year prefect, a reliable one, that Tom Riddle has been researching things no one should touch. Forbidden magic. He’s obsessed with relics and things that offer immortal control. He isn’t interested in your history Elara, he’s interested in what you hold.”
Elara sighed, dismissing the concerns as dramatic hearsay. She knew Robin meant well, but she didn’t possess the intellectual depth to understand Tom’s purely academic pursuit.
“You’re letting gossip cloud your judgement, Robin,” Elara said dismissively. “Tom is offering me a partnership based on shared intelligence. He asked me out not because of my looks, but because he sees the potential in my mind. You and Nancy are happy with surface level talk and simple relationships. I am simply seeking something deeper.”
She smiled, already turning her thoughts to Saturday. “Besides, if he’s trying to manipulate me, I’m the one person in this school smart enough to see through it. I’ll go to Hogsmeade, enjoy the butterbeer, and then we’ll go back to the Charters next week. Don’t worry.”
Robin watched her friend with a deep frown, her fear palpable. She knew her warning was already lost to Elara’s desire for intellectual validation and the flattering attention of the school’s most powerful student.
A/N: A long chapter today! How are you guys like Elara so far?
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