It was impossible for even a blind man to overlook Malfoy Manor. The majestic white castle stood at the corner of the street, intimidating the other houses, just like its three residents did to those inhabiting the other houses.
A handsome young man in his early twenties appeared in the corner of the street so suddenly that he could have materialised from air. His reddish eyes surveyed the snow-covered street, and he made his way through the slippery path towards the castle. He took out a small package from inside his cloak, and ran his long fingers over it. Finding it in order, perhaps, he replaced it into the safety of his cloak. He reached the huge castle, and tall though he was, he had to crane his neck to look at the top. A greedy glint gleamed in his eyes. He pushed the gate open causing it to creak. Making his way up to the huge brass door, he knocked. A tiny house-elf opened the door and peeped outside.
On seeing him, the elf squeaked, “Mr. Riddle, come in, sir.” The elf opened the door wide and the man called Mr. Riddle stepped in. “Miss is wanting to see you, sir. Miss is waiting in her room upstairs.” The elf gestured at the stairs. Riddle surveyed the hall greedily. It was huge and reflected the Malfoys in every way. The cushions were fluffed up and the centre table had an exquisite flower vase. An almirah stood in a corner, and an Order of Merlin, First Class glistened amidst other trophies collected over the years. Flower-scented candlesticks stood in every corner of the room, above which gleamed greenish lamps.
“Would sir like to take his cloak off?” the tiny elf squeaked.
Riddle removed his travelling cloak; eyes still fixed on the almirah and handed it over to the elf. The elf hung it on the cloak stand.
“Sir?” it squeaked again.
“Yes,” said Riddle, tearing his eyes off from the trophy shelf. The elf showed Riddle up the stairs and knocked on the first bedroom to the left.
“Enter,” called a lazy feminine voice.
The elf opened the door and Riddle walked in.
It was a large room. A king-sized bed stood against the wall and next to it was a huge cupboard fitted with a transparent door. Trophies glittered in the glow of greenish lamps, similar to the ones downstairs. Candles were lit on all corners, emitting the scent of honey and flowers. A woman in her early twenties sat on a throne-like chair in front of the bed, her legs resting on the centre table. She wore robes of pale blue that matched her eyes perfectly. Her curly blonde hair fell to her shoulders like little waves. She seemed to be reading a copy of the latest edition of Witch Weekly. She put the magazine down and glanced towards the door. A slight smile played on her lips as her eyes rested on Riddle, and she slowly removed her legs off the table. Her eyes turned to the elf, and she her smile turned into a grimace.
The elf announced, “Mr. Riddle is wanting to see you, Miss.”
“I can see that,” she said nastily. The elf hung his head.
“Sit, Tom,” she gestured with one thin hand at the armchair opposite her. “What would you like to drink?”
“Nothing, thank you, Miss Malfoy,” Riddle replied, his eyes glancing at the open cupboard.
“But you must have something. Dobby, get us some red wine.” She dismissed the tiny creature with a wave of her hand.
“Yes, Miss.” With that, the little elf vanished behind the door.
“So, do you have it?” she asked impatiently, her eyes swinging in the direction of Riddle.
Riddle removed the neatly-wrapped package from inside his robe and placed it on the edge of her bed. “Here you are, Miss Malfoy.”
“You can call me Isla,” she said, throwing back her blonde curls, her eyes studying his handsome face. “When we’re alone, of course,” she added on an afterthought.
Riddle met her eyes and smiled. “Yes,” he paused, “Isla.”
The door opened, and the elf was back, carrying a tray with two silver goblets and a tall bottle of red wine. The elf placed it on the table and stood back, looking at his mistress for further orders.
“Leave,” she ordered. The elf walked to the door as fast as his tiny legs could carry him and left, shutting the door quietly behind him. She opened the bottle and poured herself a goblet of wine.
“Have some wine, Tom. You’ve been travelling in this cold.” She poured him some and handed it over.
“I Apparated,” he said quietly, but accepted the proffered goblet. His long fingers gripped the silver goblet, and he raised it to his mouth.
She laughed softly but turned her attention back to the package sitting comfortably on her bed. “So, what does it do?”
Riddle pulled out his wand with his free hand and flicked it. The covers opened and inside it was a small box.
“This isn’t-” she began, frowning.
Riddle smiled, and flicked his wand once more. The box rose from the bed and fell on the ground. Suddenly, it grew, bigger and bigger until it became the size of a wardrobe. Isla gasped.
With a third flick of his wand, the door of the wardrobe sprang open and inside it was a set of purple robes, fluttering innocently.
Eyes still fixed on the robes, she asked, “What does it do?”
“Try it on,” Riddle said.
She stood up and walked to the wardrobe. As her thin hand made contact with the robe, she let out a cry. The robe had enveloped itself around her, attempting to strangle her.
Riddle stood up, flicking his wand for the fourth time and the robes released their grip on her. She gasped, massaging her neck.
“Good Lord, Tom, that wasn’t funny,” she panted. And then she smiled, a look of cruel satisfaction on her face. “I can’t wait to see Alphard try these on,” she grinned maniacally, her cheeks flushing.
Riddle stroked his chin. “Alphard Black, you mean?”
She nodded. “The nerve of him! He said he would rather wed a troll than me,” she spat. “After all, vengeance is sweet, and I’m going to get it soon.”
She paused, looking at Riddle, a curious smile playing on her lips. “Tell me, Tom, am I that bad-looking?”
Riddle looked surprised but only for the briefest of seconds. His eyes wandered back to the trophy shelf, as he spoke, “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
Her pale cheeks reddened. “But it seems I’m not good enough for dear Alphard,” she pushed back her curls, a malicious glint in her eyes. “Can these robes kill, Tom?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “If I had not intervened, those robes could have strangled you to death.”
She coughed, absentmindedly massaging her throat. “So, how much do I owe you, Tom?”
“Fifty galleons.”
She walked to the cupboard, and had her back to him for a whole minute. When she came back, she carried a velvet lined bag.
“Your fifty galleons,” she said, handing over the bag to him. He reached out to get the bag and his hand brushed against hers.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly.
“Don’t be,” she said dreamily. Snapping back to reality, she fixed Riddle with a stern glance. “So, Tom,” she said. “Are you sure this” “ she waved a hand towards the wardrobe- “can kill Black?"
He nodded.
“How can you be so sure?” She raised one pencilled eyebrow at him.
Riddle smiled. “Only last month, Mr. Burke asked me to deliver these to Mr Potter as a gift from Mr Baddock. The next day he was found dead.”
“Good,” Isla grinned maliciously. “As a matter of interest, why did Baddock want to kill Potter?”
“It seems that Potter witnessed Baddock’s cousin murdering Muggles, and he ran to the Ministry. Coward,” he spat.
“Always Muggle-loving fools, the Potters,” she agreed contemptuously.
Riddle glanced at his watch. He stood up. “I need to take leave of you, Isla.”
Her face fell. “So soon, Tom?”
He smiled. “I’ve been here for an hour.”
“I never can notice time fly in your company, Tom,” she gushed.
Riddle smiled again.
“Now, may I take leave of you?”
“Of course.” She stretched her right hand forward. He grasped her thin hand and brushed it against his lips.
“You will come again, Tom?” she asked hopefully.
Riddle nodded, a hungry glint gleaming in his eyes, as they drifted towards the wardrobe again.
True to his promise, Riddle arrived at Malfoy Manor, two days later. On reaching Isla’s room, he knocked.
“Enter,” she called lazily, reading Witch Weekly again. Isla was wearing robes of green today. Her hair was twisted up in an elegant French knot.
“Tom!” she exclaimed, looking up at him.
“Miss Malfoy-”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” she pouted. “It’s Isla.”
Riddle smiled. “I have news for you, Isla.”
She raised one thin eyebrow at him. “Really?”
“Alphard Black is dead.”
Isla sprang to her feet. “Tom! Are you sure?” Riddle nodded affirmative.
She beamed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh, this is definitely cause for celebration!”
You have no idea, thought Riddle as his thin lips curled into a sneer.
Riddle took his wand and flicked it at Isla. Thin ropes like fiery snakes coiled themselves around her. She was bound to the foot of the bed.
“Tom?” she asked in tones of outrage. “What is the meaning of-”
“Silencio,” he muttered at her. She continued to open and close her mouth, but no one would be able to hear even if she was screaming like a banshee.
Riddle smiled cruelly at her before making his way steadily to the cupboard. His hands trembled with pleasure as he reached for a box, lined with rich velvet. He opened it. A golden tiara lay inside, adorned with diamonds and rubies that shimmered in the soft candlelight. The letter ‘R’ was inscribed on it above a mighty eagle, ready to take flight. The words ‘walcneva ranewor foytre porpeht sisiht’ were carved below the eagle in fancy script.
A smug look of satisfaction crossed Riddle’s face as he pocketed the tiara and turned towards the yelling witch on the floor.
“Right, Isla,” Riddle smirked. “Goodbye.”
“Avada Kedavra!” Isla felt the life being sucked out of her at the speed of lightning, as she dropped dead to the floor.
Vengeance was probably sweet… but Isla did not live to find out.