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nottsbitch · 2 days

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Time for a swim - T.N.

Summary: Theo's attempt at asking you out once again

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For as long as you could remember you had loved your clothes and everyone knew that. Coming to Hogwarts was one of the saddest days of your life in the sense that you could no longer pick out an outfit every day.

You eagerly anticipated the weekends, hoping to showcase as many outfits as possible, determined to remind everyone of your dream-worthy wardrobe.

And now, here you were, strolling towards Hogsmeade with Pansy, clad in a white lace dress and brown boots.

“You have to let me borrow those shoes next time we go out!” Part of you wondered if your friends were just using you for your clothes, but honestly, you didn’t mind.

“These are vintage—your only chance to wear them is at my funeral.” You both laughed, engrossed in your conversation, completely unaware of the group of idiots blocking your path ahead.

"Go out with me?" Theo couldn't even think of anything clever this time.

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Thanks, but no.”

Theo’s smile faltered, but then he suddenly scooped you up in his arms. “Alright, then!”

Before you knew what was happening you were at the edge of the black lake, fighting in his arms.

"I guess I’ll just have to throw you into the Black Lake!”

You were shocked but a part of you also believed he wouldn't actually do it.

“Wait, what? Theo, no!” You squealed, laughter spilling out as he started running toward the dock.

“Say yes, and I won’t!” he teased, his grip secure but playful.

“Fine, fine! Put me down first!” you giggled, half-laughing and half-protesting.

“Only if you agree to a date!” He paused at the edge of the dock, eyes sparkling with mischief.

At this point there was a crowd that included your friends all gathered watching to see how this would play out.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Okay, okay! Yes!”

Just as you agreed, Theo’s foot slipped on the edge of the dock, and before either of you could react, you both tumbled into the cold, dark waters of the Black Lake with a splash.

The shock of the icy water took your breath away, and you surfaced, sputtering and laughing. But as you looked down at your feet, your heart sank. “No! My boots!” you exclaimed, the brown boots you loved already soaked and weighed down by the water.

Theo emerged beside you, shaking water off his face, his grin faltering when he noticed your expression. “What’s wrong?”

“My boots! They’re ruined!” you pouted, kicking your feet in frustration, the water sloshing around you.

He swam closer, a hint of concern in his eyes. “They’ll dry! It’s just a pair of shoes.”

“Easy for you to say!” you replied, trying to keep the annoyance out of your voice. “You didn’t just lose your favorite vintage brown boots! I was gonna wear these at my wedding”

He chuckled, but there was a softness in his expression. “Okay, but I think I’d trade a pair of shoes for a date with you any time.”

You sighed, letting the moment wash over you, realizing he had a point. “Fine, but just so you know, I’m going to make you pay for this later!”

He laughed "I think I can handle that." and with that, he took your hand and started to swim towards your friends. You followed, both of you laughing as you made your way across the shimmering water. At that moment, with the cool water surrounding you and the sun breaking through the clouds, you couldn’t help but smile.

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#harry potter #theo nott #matteo riddle #slytherin boys #tom riddle #draco malfoy #enzo berkshire #slytherin #hp universe #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader

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lizzieolseniskinda · 1 day

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TOM RIDDLE (SDE) - masterlist

lizzieolseniskinda - masterlist

SOULMATES DON'T EXIST

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate au! (soulbound), time travel au!,

⚕ part one

⚕ part two

⚕ part three

⚕ part four (planned for 27 - 30 september <3)

#lizziewrites masterlist𝜗𝜚 #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle #tom riddle angst #tom riddle x reader #harry potter x reader

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ruinofchimera · 1 day

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Please tell us more about Voldemort's relationship with Severus, and why you think it differs so much from Voldemort's other relationships

Whatever it is that lingers between Tom and Severus—power, manipulation, some dark bond none of us can fully grasp—it naturally ignites chaos in the mind of the beholders. And if you’re eager to feel that burn, I’ll gladly embrace you in it. To you brave, reckless souls, I say this: your wish is my command.

So, here we are, picking apart how Severus Snape—mudblood, poor, and bruised from the heavy hand of a Muggle father—managed to land himself a spot at the table with the most rabid pack of blood purists you’ve ever seen. A table, mind you, he had no business sitting at. The Death Eaters, that tight little clique of privileged purebloods, had no real reason to let in this scruffy little outsider. Sure, Snape was useful. Very useful. His skills were sharp as knives, and he could do their dirty work, get his hands filthy so they didn’t have to. But useful doesn’t mean welcome. Useful doesn’t mean accepted. You know who else was useful? Fenrir Greyback and his mangy lot. They brought terror to the doorsteps of half the wizarding world, and did Voldemort’s cause no small service. But did they get a place at the inner circle? Did they get respect? Hell no. They were the dirt beneath the boots of the real Death Eaters. Useful filth. And then there’s Snape, embodying everything these purists claim to despise—a half-blood with a tainted surname, living in squalor, dragged through the muck by a Muggle brute of a father. By all accounts, Death Eaters should have spat in his face and tossed him out like yesterday’s rubbish. But no. Not only does he get a seat at the table, he rises. He’s placed on a pedestal, standing closer to Voldemort than some of the most loyal, purest-blooded lackeys in the room. Voldemort, in all his cold-blooded glory, didn’t just tolerate Severus. He raised him up, right in front of their sneering, offended faces. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting. If you think Voldemort did this out of some sense of gratitude, you’ve missed the point entirely. Tom Riddle doesn’t do gratitude. That kind of sentiment is beneath him, an alien concept. Voldemort doesn’t reward; he uses. Deeds done in his name are expected, not appreciated. You’re not going to get a pat on the back from a man who thinks the world owes him its loyalty. Snape’s service should’ve earned him nothing more than a brief reprieve from pain. A loosening of the noose around his neck, if he was lucky. That’s Voldemort’s way—keep them all desperate, keep them all afraid. So why did Snape, of all people, get raised up? Why did he, the least likely among them, become a favorite?

Mind, it’s not just me declaring Snape as Voldemort’s favorite. That dark, twisted bond is laced into nearly every interaction between the two, as if something unspoken and festering passes between them. But it’s Narcissa Malfoy who lays it bare. A woman born into the highest echelons of pure-blood privilege, the very foundation on which Voldemort’s so-called supremacy stands, doesn’t hesitate when she calls him “the Dark Lord’s favorite, his most trusted advisor.” Let that sink in.

Here is the wife of Lucius Malfoy, a man whose lineage is steeped in the darkest of traditions. But when her family’s future is on the edge of a wand, when her son’s life dangles by a thread, she doesn’t rely on Lucius, doesn’t turn to Bellatrix. No, she comes to Severus, because deep down, she knows. They all do.

It’s something more insidious, something that slips through the cracks in the floorboards of Voldemort’s ideology. He is the one Voldemort trusts, the one Voldemort leans on, the one whose counsel can shift the dark winds of fate. That is real power, raw and untouchable. Narcissa sees it—how could she not? Even with all her aristocratic pride, even with the weight of her name and her family’s legacy pressing down on her, she understands that none of it means a damn thing next to what Snape has. Narcissa, with her family’s long, proud heritage, has to grovel before someone who, by the very logic of Voldemort’s cause, should be inferior. But Snape is different, and everyone knows it. They may not say it, they may not even want to admit it, but they know. He operates outside the lines, above the fray, immune to the very rules that were meant to keep people like him down. Snape, the half-blood, the one with the muddied past, holds a kind of sway that no one else in Voldemort’s ranks can claim.

Oh, there comes the bitter irony of Peter Pettigrew. After years of scraping and groveling, thinking he’d earned his place in the Dark Lord’s favor, Peter is handed over like a rag for Severus to wring out. Peter, one of the smug Marauders who’d gleefully hounded Snape through school, reduced now to something just shy of a house-elf, bowing and cringing under Snape’s very roof. A cruel twist of fate, no doubt arranged with Voldemort’s signature malevolence. Was this some attempt to plant a spy in Snape's house? Maybe, if you take it at face value. But think for a moment—Voldemort, who couldn’t pry Snape's treachery from his skull with all the power of Legilimency, putting his trust in Wormtail to do the job? The rat that couldn't outsmart a dormitory prank, never mind a master of deception like Severus?

No, this isn’t espionage; this is karma. Cruel, twisted karma orchestrated by the Dark Lord himself. You can almost picture Severus watching Peter scuttle about his house, casting him those withering, superior glances—knowing full well that Tom has given him this indulgence, this little taste of vengeance. Snape treats Wormtail with open contempt, because he knows he can. He knows it’s allowed, expected even. It’s as if the tables have turned in the most bitter of ways, a humiliating reversal of fortune. Pettigrew, who once revelled in Snape’s humiliation, now reduced to the lowest of roles, while Snape—Voldemort’s golden boy—sits at the top. Isn’t it delicious? You’d have to be blind to chalk it up to coincidence. Moreover, Pettigrew’s fate is all the proof you’ll ever need that Voldemort’s rule isn’t founded on something as simple or sentimental as loyalty. Loyalty? Sacrifice? Please. Pettigrew’s life was one long, groveling act of desperation to stay in the Dark Lord’s good graces. You bring your master back from the brink of death itself, and still, all you get is contempt. Voldemort demands service, sure. But service? Guarantees nothing. And when you set Severus and Peter side by side, the question gnaws at you. Why? Why is Snape the favored one, the exception, the enigma in Voldemort’s otherwise brutal, predictable hierarchy? What makes him different? There’s something between them—something that doesn’t follow the usual logic of power and punishment. Voldemort doesn’t just tolerate Snape’s defiance; he rewards it, bends the system to accommodate it. Something unspoken, something hidden behind the masks they both wear, grants Snape a level of favor that Pettigrew could only dream of.

What’s crucial to grasp here is that Voldemort doesn’t spare anyone. His entire ideology is rooted in cruelty, in domination, in the ruthless obliteration of all who oppose him. He doesn’t just eliminate enemies; he obliterates them, wipes them from existence without a second thought. And yet, here’s the anomaly: Lily Evans, mother of Harry Potter, a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and a Muggle-born witch, is offered a chance to live. Live. This decision, however, is directly tied to Snape. Snape had begged Voldemort to spare her, and it is this plea—Snape’s plea—that softens the Dark Lord’s otherwise unyielding cruelty.

To truly grasp the enormity of this act, we need to take a step back and consider Snape’s position in all of this. Remember, Severus was just 21 years old when he found himself pleading with Voldemort, one of the most dangerous dark wizard in history, to spare Lily Evans.

Snape wasn’t the imposing, confident figure we often associate with him thanks to Alan Rickman’s performance—he wasn’t a man exuding quiet menace, seemingly capable of standing toe-to-toe with Voldemort. No, at this point in canon, he was barely more than a boy, a young man fresh out of Hogwarts, with no powerful lineage or wealth to protect him.

And yet, despite this—despite the sheer imbalance of power between them—Snape dared to approach Voldemort. Voldemort. With a plea. Not for himself, but for a Muggle-born witch. At best, Snape’s request might have been laughed off, dismissed as the desperate wish of a foolish young Death Eater. But it wasn’t. For some reason, Voldemort didn’t just tolerate Snape’s plea—he actually acted on it.

Consider how critical this moment was to Voldemort’s larger agenda. At the heart of his entire scheme is a singular, consuming fixation: the annihilation of the child prophesied to be his undoing. Harry Potter is Voldemort’s obsession, the one threat he must eliminate to secure his dominion. The Potters were no longer just enemies—they were the key to his future, and Harry was the focus of his most crucial mission. In this context, sparing anyone even remotely connected to Harry was an extraordinary risk. Leniency wasn’t just unnecessary—it was dangerous. By showing mercy to Lily, Voldemort risked undermining his own carefully constructed agenda. And this wasn’t a moment where Voldemort could afford to make mistakes.

This unprecedented act of “mercy,” this concession Voldemort granted Snape, became the very thing that led to his downfall. Had Voldemort simply killed Lily Evans on the spot, as he did James, she would never have had the chance to sacrifice herself for Harry. The protection her sacrifice invoked—the ancient magic that saved Harry’s life and turned Voldemort’s killing curse back on him—would never have existed. Voldemort, the cold strategist, fell because he didn’t bend for anyone—except, inexplicably, for Snape. And that single, dangerous deviation cost him everything. That’s how it’s all started.

And there it is— how it’s all ends. Voldemort’s final words to Severus Snape before he executes him. But pay attention to how he begins. “Clever man,” he calls him. He suggests that Snape might’ve already known the truth of the Elder Wand’s treachery. Tom would never acknowledge someone’s cleverness if it undermined his own intellectual abilities. If he implies that Snape may have already unraveled the mystery of the Elder Wand, it undoubtedly indicates that Voldemort had recognized Snape’s crucial role in the wand’s problems long before. It’s not just idle chatter or casual flattery. No, it’s a bloody confirmation that Voldemort himself had long ago pieced together the mystery of Snape’s involvement with the wand. This wasn’t some last-minute realization that forced his hand. It wasn’t ignorance that delayed Snape’s death, not at all. It was deliberation. Voldemort, for all his cruelty, wasn’t stupid. He suspected, long before that moment, that Snape was at the center of the problem with the wand’s loyalty. He just chose not to act on it until the very last moment.

He held back from executing him, searching for any other way around the wand’s limitations, trying to find a solution that didn’t involve killing Snape. But when it came down to it, when all other options were exhausted, Voldemort finally made his move.

And what does he do? He delivers a speech. A bloody speech, full of regret and excuses—“I regret what must happen.” Does that sound like the Voldemort we know? The Dark Lord who kills without a second thought, who carves his empire from the bones of the disobedient? Hell no. This is the man who thrives on fear, on swift, brutal punishment. And yet, here he is, delivering justifications like some guilty executioner. This isn’t Voldemort’s usual method. This isn’t the whip coming down fast and hard. This is something altogether more… hesitant.

That speech, soaked in rationalizations, tells us everything we need to know. Snape’s death wasn’t just business—it was personal. It’s a messy, ugly end to the unexplainable dynamic between them. Even at the very end, Voldemort is bending, twisting, trying to justify his actions to the one man who had managed to worm his way under his skin. And in that second, we see something rare—a glimpse of the complexity in their relationship. Voldemort’s usual ruthless efficiency is absent.

His “I regret it,” spoken once more, stands out like a blade in the gut, sharp and unexpected, slicing straight through Voldemort’s usual cold indifference. The Dark Lord, who has never spared a thought for the wreckage in his wake, lets these words hang in the air, unnatural as they are. A man who’s never known the weight of remorse now offers something that almost feels like regret. Not true regret, of course—Voldemort doesn’t have the luxury of feeling something so weak, so human. But still, It’s not a sentiment he offers to anyone else. It’s almost as if Voldemort doesn’t know how to process this lingering attachment, as though Snape’s mere existence demands something from him that Voldemort is incapable of giving. Snape occupies some strange corner of Voldemort’s mind, twisted and dark it may be, that not even the Dark Lord himself seems to understand. Despite the fact that I’ve painted a whole canvas of tangled thoughts on the strange relationship between Severus and Tom, I’ve barely begun to tug at the thread of their inexplicable dynamic. There’s so much more I could unearth, layers of intrigue and tension that ripple through every scene between them, and I could easily go on for hours about the small, delicious details woven into their story. But, as it happens, my full-time job is already sharpening its knife and aiming for my back, so I'll have to bring this whole saga to a close with the following quote:

For me, the intensity of this scene speaks volumes about their relationship, capturing the very essence of what makes these two so bloody fascinating. The way their gaze alone can make Death Eaters flinch under the weight of their unspoken understanding. It’s not fear, not exactly. It’s something colder, something deeper. As though they’re witnessing a bond forged in the dark, a grim understanding that none of them can ever be a part of.

That’s what keeps dragging me back to these two. The tension, the labyrinth of contradictions, the complex tangle of manipulation. I want to look away—hell, I should look away, just like the Death Eaters did. But there’s something about it, something that coils around me, tightening like a serpent’s embrace. Can you blame me?

#severus snape #tom riddle #voldemort #harry potter #lily evans

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tomriddlehyperfixataion · 17 hours

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The Diary of Tom Riddle- Diary! Tom Riddle x Reader - P6

pairing: Tom riddle x Fem reader

warnings: Horcruxes, Manipulation, Tom being Tom, side effects of being possessed, bleeding from the nose.

summary: 16-year-old (y/n) finds a mysterious black book on the floor of after it slips out of Ginny Weasleys caldron, curious, she picks it up and keeps it-which leads to one thing after another and discovers the book is far more than it seems.

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3- -Part 4- -Part 5-

Harry peeled open the pages of the diary, it was half blank-with loads of notes in the first half-all retaining to the classes that Hogwarts offered. “Defense against the dark arts, Charms, Transfiguration,” Harry muttered under his breath as he flipped through the sections of notes.

It was like looking through Hermione's notes folder-everything sectioned off and dated.

“it’s just a diary being used as a notebook Harry, it’s clearly nothing special,” Ron said as they walked to the hospital wing to see Hermione, who was still recovering from the Polyjuice cat incident.

Harry only hummed in response, for some reason he felt the diary was far more than it seemed-even though all that was written in it was notes and silly doodles. He liked the one of the greasy Snape- even the Slytherin girl this book belonged to didn’t like Snape.

“You should give it back to her Harry, it might not have her name clearly its hers, has her name on the front page and everything.” Hermione said quietly as they visited her in the hospital wing, Hermione tapping the first page that had the Slytherin girls name in ink-right below T.M.Riddle's name that was also written in ink.

“Yeah, but the back says it belongs to Tom Riddle, which Ron says has a trophy about some-great thing he did for the school 50 years ago,” Harry said, Hermione snatching the book from him-grabbing her wand from her bag.

“Then maybe he wrote something down in here about the last time the chamber was opened-“ Hermione said and Harry quickly caught up with what she’d realized, eagerly leaning over her shoulder to watch her tap her wand on the diary thrice. “Aparecium!”

When nothing happened, Hermione huffed, grabbing a red eraser from her bag. “It’s a revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley,” Hermione said when Harry gave her a quizzical look. She rubbed the eraser hard on one of the blank pages, but nothing happened, and Hermione huffed.

“I’m telling you, there’s nothing to find in there,” Ron said, crossing his arms. “Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn’t be bothered to keep it, and that Slytherin girl got it 2nd hand.”

Harry couldn’t explain why he hadn’t given the diary/notebook back to the Slytherin girl, even after she’d left the hospital wing, he’d overheard Madam Pomfrey tell her to take it easy as the stress from NEWTS and the chamber had made her body go into overdrive.

Harry thought how the girl looked when he’d found her in the bathroom was far worse than stress-she almost looked like she was dying.

He shook the thought out of his head, remembering the haunting look in the girl’s eyes when she’d looked at him, he looked back down at the diary in his hands, letting the blank pages flutter in his hand.

Earlier-Lockhart had hired all those ‘cupid’ dwarves and one had cornered him, singing a crude poem to him from Ginny Weasley, in the process, his book bag had ripped, and ink had gotten everywhere-including the diary.

And yet, the diary had no trace of ink on it, unlike the rest of his books, instead the only thing that remained was the notes. Harry frowned in thought-opening the diary to a blank page and dipping his quill, letting a blot of ink drop onto the page.

After a moment-it sunk into page-leaving not a trace of ink.

And then-before his very eyes-new words began to appear.

‘(y/n)?’

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he nearly jumped out of his chair to go show Ron and Hermione, but instead dipped his quill again.

“I’m sorry no, my names Harry Potter.”

There was a moment before the response but eventually the neat scrawl of the diary appeared.

‘Hello Harry potter. My name is Tom Riddle, how did you come upon my diary?’

Those words began to fade just as Harry had re-dipped his quill and hurriedly wrote back.

“The girl who had it had a seizure or something, she dropped it and I picked it up,”

His words faded and very quickly Tom wrote back to him-almost hurried.

‘(y/n). is she okay?’

“She is, she just got out of the hospital wing, madam Pomfrey said it was from stress.”

‘Very good. Why are you keeping my diary, Harry Potter?’

“I was wondering if you knew anything about the chamber of secrets?”

(y/n) practically tore her room apart, looking for Tom’s diary. “well-when did you last have it?” her roommate/friend asked, watching from her bed concerned as (y/n) flipped over her mattress.

“I don’t know! Uhgh-the bathroom, I think? I got all dizzy n shit and the last thing I remember before passing out as throwing my bag to the floor.” (y/n) huffed, tapping her finger in frustration on her bedpost.

“Maybe it’s still in the bathroom then? It could’ve been washed into one of the stalls with all that flooding from moaning myrtle?” her roommate suggested and (y/n) had to concede she might be right.

God Tom was going to be so pissed at her for letting him stew in toilet water for so many days, she’d have to get him more good ink or something to make up for it.

However, the diary wasn’t there.

“Myrtle?” (y/n) asked gently, looking up at the floating ghost girl, who stared at her. “Did my books happen to be picked up when I fell in here last week?”

Myrtle tilted her head in thought and nodded. “Oh yes, Harry Potter picked up that little black book,” Myrtle said faintly, before going back to moaning and groaning about death. (y/n) thanked her and left the bathroom, looking to find potter to see if he’d kept her/Tom’s diary by accident.

She found him and his friends walking through the courtyard, talking about…the chamber of secrets? “Hagrid opened the chamber of secrets 50 years ago,” Harry said quietly to Ron and Hermione.

“Riddle-” That got (y/n)’s attention, had Harry really kept the diary and written in it? Thank god all of hers and Tom’s conversations didn’t stay in the diary, only keeping the notes he rewrote for her. “-might have the wrong person,” said Hermione. “Maybe is some other monster that was attacking people…”

“How many monsters d’you think this place can hold?” Ron asked rhetorically, (y/n) following close behind, hoping to get the diary back from Potter, she felt weird without it, like something was missing.

Merlin maybe she was getting way too attached to Tom.

“We always knew Hagrid had been expelled,” said Harry miserably, “and the attacks must’ve stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn’t have got his award.”

What sort’ve hero stories was the nerd telling the 12-year-olds???

She decided to interrupt their little chat about Tom, the chamber, and Hagrid-wanting the diary back.

“Hello,” she said softly, waving to the three, looking down at them as they froze and turned to face her, though relaxed when they saw it was only her-the girl who had the diary before Harry. “Sorry to interrupt you, but it was brought to my attention that you might still have my notebook? It’s a black leather-bound book with the name Tom Riddle on the back? It has all my notes for the upcoming exams on it and I need it before they start.”

Harry nodded jankily, but didn’t reach into his bag for it. “Uh-yeah, uh, did you know it could write back?” (y/n) tilted her head but nodded.

“Uh, yeah, it’s a personality enchantment, very rare advanced magic.” (y/n) said casually, just wanting the diary back and not to converse with the three for much longer.

“Did he tell you anything about the chamber of secrets?” Harry asked, remembering Riddle's concern for (y/n) and near demands, to be returned to her.

(y/n) shook her head, having never asked. “No, never asked, but he is tutoring me for defense against the dark arts, since Lockhart is… Lockhart.” (y/n) said with a scrunch of her nose and Hermione looked to have half a mind to scold her while the boys just smiled, glad to finally have met a girl who thought Lockhart was just as stupid as they thought he was.

(y/n) just huffed, crossing her arms. “Could I have the diary back? I really do need those notes,” (y/n) asked again and Harry nodded, telling her he was keeping it up in his dorm room and he’d pass it back to her later. She narrowed her eyes a bit, feeling an odd flare of frustration and possessiveness at him for keeping the diary for even longer but pushed it down.

“Thanks,” She said, giving the three a short wave-turning on her heel and heading for her next class.

Hours later, almost dinner, she finally got the diary back, Harry handing it back to her-quite reluctantly might she add-but (y/n) didn’t care, clutching the diary close to her side as she thanked Harry and turned to go back to her dorm, moving the diary from her side to her chest.

It felt like a hug as she held it.

She sighed in relief as she stepped into her dorm, pressing her back against the door to close it, letting her head drop to her chest slightly, clutching the diary to her chest.

She really didn’t know why she was attached to the diary/Tom so much, when she didn’t have it/him on hand, it felt…odd, like something important was missing.

(y/n) hopped onto her bed and flipped open the diary, glad to see all the notes Tom had rewritten for her still there. She grabbed her quill and opened her ink well, dipping the tip before pressing it to the page.

“sorry for dropping you in the bathroom :s”

‘(y/n)?’

“yeah, I had some sort of seizure from the stress of the whole, chamber and exams, situation. Got really dizzy and my nose started to bleed really bad, passed out in the second-floor girls' bathroom.”

‘Merlin. Are you okay?’

“I am now, some rest did good for me, Madam Pomfrey told me to keep taking it easy though”

‘I see. No late night chatting with me anymore then.’

(y/n) gasped a bit and sat up, frowning.

“not fair! I like talking to you!”

‘I like talking to you too, but staying up till, merlin knows how late, talking to me isn’t helping your health. So, no more of that until you’re feeling better.’

“fine.”

‘(y/n).’

“I know! Thank you for looking out for me, means a lot. :3”

‘What in Merlin’s beard does :3 mean?’

“it’s a cute smiley face~! :3”

‘Stop it it’s, what’s the word you used? Cringe?’

“hey!”

Things finally felt normal again, (y/n) was finally getting some good rest as the months moved from February to May, her DADA tutoring sessions with Tom went pretty well, though once in a while he’d ask if she’d like to have a more-in depth lesson but she always declined, still a little weirded out by the way he could do the whole ‘pull someone into his subspace’ thing.

Plus, last time she’d gotten a nosebleed from the magic strain of it, she didn’t want to have another one.

Since her little-trip-to the hospital wing, the attacks had stopped and everyone else was finally relaxing, the tension finally easing up as the threat of ‘the heir of Slytherin and its monster’ seemed to have its fill and leave.

(y/n) currently was having some trouble with her potions work, her brow furrowed as she looked over her assigned work again and again, but it was just all blurring together in a mesh of nothing. She sighed, dropping her quill and rubbing her face. She needed a break.

She looked down at the diary, seeing she’d gotten a big ink blot on it from dropping her quill, sighing and moving the quill off of it and into the ink well. The ink sunk into the page and Tom’s writing appeared.

‘What was that for?’

“dropped the quill on the page, sorry.”

‘Tired?’

“very, i wanna go take a nap but the quidditch game is today and my friend is no doubt going to drag me off to that and its within the hour, hardly have time to even get up to my room and put my stuff away.”

‘I see.’

‘I could help?’

“how?”

‘If you would allow me, time doesn’t really pass within the diary, you could take a short nap if you wish? I just wouldn’t be able to talk to you for a few days, as I know the last time I pulled you in, it caused immense strain on your magic, and I’d rather avoid that.’

(y/n) hesitated, her quill hovering over the page as Tom’s words faded away.

“you promise it wont hurt me this time?”

‘I promise. Do I have your permission?’

(y/n) looked around the library, glancing at her watch, and then put her quill to the page again.

“you have my permission.”

In the same way as it did the first time, the gutter of the book became a blinding light that seemed to pull her into the diary-and the hands that caught her were even gentler than the first time.

She looked up, seeing the sepia-toned face of Tom Riddle, smirking down at her as he held her steady. She cleared her throat, gently pushing herself up to stand and he chuckled, reaching out his hand to hers. “C’mon, I know a good spot for a nap,” Tom said, and she took his hand, letting him lead her down the diaries Hogwarts halls.

He led her to the Slytherin common room, and she laid down on the big couch that was even comfier than the one in the actual common room, her eyes fluttering closed as a blanket was laid atop her, a cold hand brushing the hair from her face.

When she awoke, she was back in the library, sleeping over her books and the diary. She jolted up, checking her watch-only 15 minutes had passed, and yet it felt like she got several hours of sleep. She picked up her quill, writing a quick thank you to Tom before she packed everything up and rushed to her dorm room to change for the quidditch match.

As she went to leave the common room to go to the quidditch match-everyone suddenly crowded in, all looking worried. “What happened?” (y/n) asked her friend who quickly took her by the hand to sit down by the fireplace.

“There was another attack,” her friend whispered and (y/n)’s heart stuttered in her chest, her eyes widening.

“What? Where?” (y/n) gasped, her mouth gaped open.

“The library,”

(y/n)’s heart dropped to her stomach, her hand covering her mouth. She’d just been in the library! Had the attack happened while she was there? Or after she left?? But she was just there!?

“I was just there,” she whispered and (y/n)’s friend frowned, a horrified look growing on her face.

“Oh my god-did you see the petrified students?” (y/n) shook her friend in response, clutching at her stomach as the feeling of missed danger passed over her.

“No, I didn’t, i-I fell asleep while studying,” (y/n) said, which wasn’t a total lie, her face growing paler as she realized how close to danger she’d been, what if the monster had attacked her? How close had the monster been? Had it attacked while she’d been with Tom? Or right after she left?

Snape, the head of Slytherin house, walked through the portrait doorway, holding a scroll in his hands. “Attention, all of you.” Snape said, sounding drearier and more serious than normal. That was freaky, since Snape never panicked about anything. “Due to the recent events, these new rules will be effective immediately. All students will return to their house common rooms by six o’clock every evening. No student is to leave the common rooms after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”

Many of the students groaned at the very restricting rules. “But no Slytherins have been attacked!” Draco Malfoy complained, and Snape silenced him with a glare.

“We will not be taking those risks, Mr. Malfoy. Any breaking of these rules and you will find yourself back in London before you can even whine.” Snape drawled, pinning the scroll to the common room info board. “And I should tell you, unless the perpetrator behind these attacks is caught, it is likely the school will close.”

With a flare of his robes, Snape dramatically left the Slytherin common room, locking it behind him. Everyone looked at each other, wary that one of them might be the heir of Slytherin-the reason behind the attacks. It was a running joke that Harry Potter was the heir, due to his parseltongue ability, but that’s all it was-a joke.

(y/n), however, was mentally panicking, remembering that odd dream from months ago, remembering herself speaking parseltongue. But she’d also overheard Potter and his friends talking about how Tom told them that Hagrid was the one accused of opening the chamber last time.

And she couldn’t ask Tom to confirm that right now, as he was going to take a rest due to him using his limited magic to keep her from straining her own magic while he kept her in his subspace. She sighed heavily, rubbing her face.

The attack, the double attack, had happened while she’d been in the library, the library was where the attack had happened-and most likely while she’d been asleep.

What if…what if she was the culprit? What if she, unknowingly, was the heir of Slytherin somehow and had been doing things while unconscious?

Merlin that was a terrifying what-if.

She was muggle-born, that was true, but muggleborns had to have some sort of magical lineage in their blood, what if…what if the witch/wizard in her bloodline had been a descendant of Salazar?

Fuck she hoped not.

God, she wished she could talk to Tom right now, he always knew what to say to calm her down when she was spiraling.

Hours later, it was announced Dumbledore had been suspended by the school board and Hagrid had been arrested and sent to Azkaban.

Fuck.

-end of part 6-

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Text

Slytherin Boys Personality

I have now been able to do all of the boys personalities. Let me know if there is anything I left out please

Draco Malfoy:

Evil personality that can be redeemed with enough work, or with the love of a certain someone. Refers to his girl as his Princess. Daddy issues.

Ambitious: Drive for power, recognition, and success as well as uphold his family legacy and prove himself as a worthy member of a pure-blood wizard community

Proud: Superiority complex that leads to displays of condescension and arrogance. Can get him into trouble because he may say things that he does not mean out of anger because the prejudice is what he knows

Insecure: Despite outward confidence, struggles with deep seated insecurities that has him constantly seeking validation and approval from his peers (and his parents). This fuels his need to prove himself and maintain a certain image.

Short Temper: Loses his cool very quickly due to his need to be right and prove himself, but will attempt to make it right fairly quickly

Blaze Zabini

Probably the most positive and playful out of the entire group

Loyal: Loyal to a fault. His friends are above everything, even his love interest at times. They are the ones who are going to decide everything for him even if he doesnt realize it is happening

Sensitive: Overly sensitive to the point where he is going to start arguments over little things. He doesnt enjoy PDA because he feels that it makes him look weak and he does not want to be perceived that way. On the plus side, his sensititiviy to things also means he always dresses well and smells really nice

Smart: Definitely the best study buddy. He is the person that others would copy off of it

Playful: The kind of guy that is going to playully tease you but never in a way that will make you upset.

Player: He is attractive and he knows it and will often playfully flirt in order to make things go his way.

Lorenzo Berkshire

Short Temper and Holds a Grudge: Will get angry very quickly and then ignore you for days until he realizes that he misses you and makes it up to you by doing something that shows you that he cares.

Trust Issues: He is the kind of guy that would create a fake account to “catch” you cheating or will flirt with a girl whenever you are talking to much to another boy

Funny: Has a great sense of humor because of all of the things that he has been through in his life. When everything is at his best, he is a very happy person.

Mattheo Riddle

Daddy issues and a drug addict who loves sometimes a little too hard and a little too much

a highly imaginative, highly intelligent, and highly sensitive person, gets into fights

Possessive: He will defend the things and people that belong to him or have value to him and does not care about the consequences

Toxic and loves to party- will be the kind of guy who will pull you back and forth in a relationship but its not because he doesnt actually have feelings for you, but because he doesnt know how to handle them when he does have them.

Tom Riddle

Smart: Smart without even trying and makes it known whenever you make a mistake because you are therefore dumb in comparison

Jealous: What's his is his and he will take anyone down whom he believes is going to take away the things that are his

Anger issues: Does not know how to cool down and won’t admit when he is wrong. Instead, when he realizes that he is even slightly in the wrong he will attempt to make up for it and move past it without actually talking about it

Theodore Nott

French in a lot of ways: Smoker, calls you Bella for beautiful, and is rude

Protective: The kind of person who is going to drop kick anyone that says anything negative about you or any of his people.

Troublemaker: He does not care about the rules so he will do what he has to do in order to make his point known. He is always in trouble of some kind and that gets in the way of a lot of things.

Player: Has had many many girlfriends and has a list of people that he needs to avoid because of the way that he has toyed with and broken their heart

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