Tom did not discard the chocolates, nor did he put them away. He merely sat in silence in his office, lost in thought.
After a time, the wooden door clicked open.
Cassandra entered, having requested the key from Tom earlier. He had given it to her without a second thought.
"My disciple…"
Tom's soft voice broke the silence.
Cassandra, hearing him, glanced up. Seeing nothing amiss with Tom, she frowned slightly. "Tsk."
"…"
Such a rebellious disciple!
Tom sighed, then gestured toward the chocolates on the table. "What do you intend to do with these?"
"Teacher, can't you just eat them?"
Cassandra attempted, unusually, to charm Tom.
Previously, such an act from his disciple might have amused him.
But not now…
"No!"
Tom's face darkened, his tone firm.
Cassandra crossed her arms and turned away. "Hmph."
"…"
Tom eyed the large pile of chocolates. Eating them was out of the question, at least for him.
Then… who should receive them?
...
Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory, Ron and Neville Longbottom were engrossed in a game of wizard chess. Both were unattached, and on Valentine's Day, a game in the dormitory was preferable to facing a barrage of public displays of affection.
Ron Weasley's rat, Peter Pettigrew, lay on the edge of the bed, gazing out the window. He lamented that even as a human, he had been a lonely soul, and now, as a rat, not a single female mouse glanced his way.
Not that I would want the attention of a female mouse, he thought. But that doesn't stop me from bemoaning my solitude.
When will I regain my human form?
Although his master Voldemort had reappeared, the Dark Lord seemed… different. He had even recruited Harry Potter.
And Ron had mentioned Harry becoming Voldemort's second-in-command.
If Harry Potter discovers my role in his parents' deaths, even if Voldemort identifies himself as a Death Eater, Harry will relentlessly torment me until my end.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak… (Sigh, am I destined to be a rat forever?)"
Peter felt a surge of despair.
Just then, the dormitory door burst open.
"Professor Tom Riddle?"
Ron and Neville looked up in surprise.
"Ahem… Ron, I came to see you."
Tom stated his purpose directly.
"Looking for me?"
Ron was puzzled, then remembered his recent induction into the Death Eaters. Could it be… is it finally my turn to learn cool, dark magic?!
Tom, however, seemed uninterested in teaching him spells. "I'm here to offer you a chance to get rich. Are you interested?"
"Get rich? Yes! Absolutely!"
Though it wasn't dark magic, money was something Ron desperately craved.
Hearing this, Tom placed a cage on the table. "Catch your rat."
"A rat? You mean Scabbers?"
Ron, confused, retrieved Peter Pettigrew from the windowsill.
Hearing his name, Peter froze, tucking his legs between his tail to prevent any unfortunate leakage.
As a former Death Eater, no one knows Voldemort's ruthlessness better than I.
A myriad of possibilities flashed through his mind.
But he dared not resist.
"Give him this."
Tom pulled out a piece of chocolate. He had laced it with a powerful aphrodisiac, far stronger than the original.
Ron took the chocolate, unwrapped it as Tom instructed, and offered it to Peter.
Looking at the treat, Peter swallowed nervously. He was certain Voldemort had poisoned it, but…
After a moment's hesitation, Peter gritted his teeth and took a bite.
Hmm… not bad… why do I feel so warm?
As Peter ate, he found himself levitating.
The cage on the table opened on its own, and Peter floated inside.
Once inside, Peter realized the cage was filled with a dozen or so female rats, all looking rather… eager.
After magically depositing Peter in the cage, Tom explained to Ron, "Your rat isn't ordinary. I heard he lived for decades before you got him. Normal rats don't live that long, so he must carry some magical animal blood."
"You mean…"
Ron's eyes widened at the mention of "Scabbers" having magical heritage, then he looked expectantly at the cage.
"Creatures with magical blood, even diluted, can fetch dozens of silver Sickles. And rats are very prolific; perhaps Scabbers will bring you unexpected wealth."
Tom smiled warmly and patted Ron's head, posing as a kind elder brother "looking out for him."
Ron stared up at Tom, touched. He resolved to thoroughly exploit Scabbers' "Gryffindor" mountain!
And the money I make from selling "Spotty's" children… I'll give half to Tom Riddle. If he refuses, I will use it to further the cause of the Death Eaters.
Regardless of Ron's feelings, Peter Pettigrew was in despair.
With a "bang," the cage slammed shut, and his heart plummeted.
Moreover, his body was growing hotter, and the approaching female mice looked utterly depraved!
Tom, ignoring the commotion inside the cage, pulled a large bag of chocolates from his ring and placed it on the table.
Then, he instructed Ron, "If Scabbers falters, give him another piece of chocolate."
"Yes, Professor! No problem, Professor! I'll make sure Scabbers breeds baby rats 24 hours a day!"
Ron was beyond excited; he could already taste the silver Sickles.
"Actually, that's not necessary. Some rest won't hurt."
Anyone would have thought Tom was having a change of heart.
Ron scratched his head, confused. "You mean…?"
"Twenty-three hours a day will suffice."
(Peter Pettigrew: What is true despair? This is true despair!)
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