#Tom Riddle x original character

[fyuuura]

let me put you guys on the greatest tom riddle fanfiction i have ever read for free

[hufflepuffwithaslytherinkink]

Transmogrification of a Not Yet Lord - Chapter 1 Snippet

Amelia ran, her legs burning and her chest heaving with the effort of running as well as the emotion bubbling inside of her. She needs to get away, she can’t think straight. How had this happened? She thinks.

Harry Potter had been killed by Lord Voldemort. She can’t breathe. She needs to escape, somewhere, anywhere. She needs to get away from the death eaters and the image of Harry’s limp body in Hagrid’s outstretched arms. The way hope seemed to die on everyone’s faces as they stared at the boy who lived, now dead.

She doesn’t remember leaving, she just remembers seeing Harry’s body and the need to get away. The urge to throw up overwhelming her. She couldn’t face that, she didn’t want to face that, her friend dead, hope dead. So she ran, she ran as fast as her legs could  carry her until finally she stopped.

Amelia finally looks around wondering where she’d ran to, she sniffs back tears as she realises she’s in the headmaster’s office. Yet Snape is nowhere to be seen, probably at the Dark Lord’s side she thinks bitterly. It’s strange though, normally the office is locked behind the stone gargoyle but it must have been open, Amelia doesn’t know the password to get in.

Amelia walks around the room glancing at the different objects. It’s odd how little it had changed since Dumbledore died, a lot of his things remaining in place. Maybe it wasn’t his stuff, she ponders, perhaps the trinkets get passed down from headmaster to headmaster.

Still, she thought Snape would have gotten rid of anything even linked to Dumbledore. This all certainly reminded her of her old headmaster. She sighs making her way over to the desk in the middle of the room, her legs aching from the run. She needs to sit down, to process everything that’s happening. What her plan of action is going to be.

Unfortunately her eyes are strained from crying, meaning she trips on the step before her. She stumbles haphazardly towards one of the displays at the side of the room. She throws her hands out in front of her, hoping it will reduce the impact of her fall and not damage too many of the objects before her. However, she still hits the shelves full force, knocking the silver instruments, potions and what seems to be ruin stones to the floor with a loud bang, her in the middle of it all.

Just before she hits the ground she feels a sick pulling sensation at her navel, the world spins around her and she can’t figure which way is up or down.

It must be the adrenalin from the battle, she thinks. Her head still whirling uncontrollably.

She lies on the floor trying to catch her breath and calm her mind. She’s not sure how long she lies there for, but it must be a while considering the world is spinning faster than normal.

Slowly she opens her eyes, running a hand over her head. Odd, its bright daylight now, the sun was only just starting to rise when she walked in there. She must have been out for hours. Slowly she manoeuvres herself into a sitting position. Noticing as she does so, a lack of mess around her. No potions or instruments. No evidence of her clumsiness. Maybe someone came in cleaned up around her.

A wave of nausea suddenly hits her, causing her to double over clutching her stomach. She’s just glad she’s still sat down as she wobbles a little, the dizziness hitting her forcefully. Slowly she starts to rise from the floor, gripping the shelves beside her for support.

Amelia groans as she moves her arms and legs, she’s aching all over though she doesn’t know if it’s from the impact of the fall or from the previous battle. Probably a mix of both, she concludes.

She stretches her arms and legs before glancing around the room, something is off. This is the headmaster’s office alright, but it’s different. Like things are missing or changed. She can’t quite put her finger on what though.

She sighs shaking her head slightly, she must be concussed.

Perhaps the death eaters had raided it after they won. No that couldn’t be, they won they wouldn’t need to raid it, it was there’s now. They probably wouldn’t have left her alive either.

She looks down at her clothes. She’s wearing her wide leg jeans and a Nirvana t-shirt. Both now, unfortunately, ripped in places, scorched in others and completely covered in blood and dust.

She sighs thinking how much she loves this top. If only Voldemort could have given them enough notice to change into their scruffs.

Oh well she thinks, we’ve lost more important things than band t-shirts. The thought stabbing at her heart. She reluctantly wanders towards the door. No need to put off the inevitable, the quicker she does this the quicker it’ll be over with.

She saunters through the corridors trying to find someone, anyone who can tell her where they stood now. What was happening with the magical world, are they about to be carted off to Azkaban? Tortured for years until they’re insane? What was going to happen?

But there’s no one. Nothing. Literally nothing, no rubble, no bodies. Nothing to suggest a battle had just taken place. It looks like a nice normal sunny day at Hogwarts. It makes her feel sick to her stomach. That’s something she can never have again.

There’s no one around, none of the students, the order or death eaters. How long had she been out? As she turns another corner, she hears footsteps and a curious voice calling out.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

Amelia spins in shock at the calm polite tone. She nearly falls flat on her face when she sees who’s speaking.

Albus Dumbledore is stood in front of her, clear as day. But he looks strange, his hair isn’t his normal silver, instead it’s auburn with streaks of grey. He has a beard, but it’s nowhere near as long as when she knew him. He stands starting at her waiting for her to say something.

Amelia doesn’t know what to say or what to do. How is this possible?

Then it clicks. Hogwarts was as warm and welcoming as when she first arrived. No bodies or death eaters fill the corridors and Dumbledore is stood in front of her.

She was dead.

[sainteda]

she hadn't even realised when her heart stopped—dad had said it so many times with his hand clasped over hers: you're so strong, etta. you would turn tides. you're so strong, so strong—and then there was nothing. she was swaying in the vast emptiness thinking, this is the sea. if i reached out i could swim.

paper confines, sainteda

[daenakills]

His dark eyes.

Tom Riddle x reader, might delete.

Part 2

warning: obsession, angsty, mentions of death, tom being up for no good. tom being tom basically. short.

'The perfect couple' you were told by your classmates and even teachers when you walked down the halls.

Tom and you had started dating three months ago, three months ago when you declared your love to him and he with an expressionless face told you to date. At that moment, you were very happy, feeling like it was the best day of your life. You were sure many girls wished that they were you.

Before that, you looked at him from a distance, wondering why he stood out among the others. Little by little you realized that his presence invaded your senses, clouded your vision, and innumerable thoughts about him blocked your normal ideas.

The moment he said yes, you got really excited. He was beautiful, with those almost black eyes that looked at you intensely, with black hair that was styled in a very elegant way, and with an intelligence superior to the others.

You still remembered the first month of the relationship, those vacations he spent at Hogwarts since he didn't want to go back to that orphanage where he grew up. You convinced your parents to go on holiday to England alone, after all you went there every summer, and what better time to be with your boyfriend than on holiday.

In the afternoon you found a way to enter his room without some nosy coming, you sat on his bed while he was sitting studying some things. He had many papers on the desk, all neatly arranged by category. He hadn't even flinched at your presence, as if he was something routine. You got up from the bed and proceeded to approach him.

“What are you doing studying? It's the holidays, there are no subjects to study.” You put your hands on his shoulders.

“There is always something to study, wisdom is eternal.” he muttered, as if the words coming out of his mouth were normal for boys still going to Hogwarts. You tried to talk to him a few more times, and each time he found an excuse to answer you curtly but calmly.

You were like this all month, until he confronted you near the ladies' room.

“Look, I'll tell you a few things and I want you to listen carefully. I don't have time for you all the time.” Silence. Silence is what there was when he whispered those words to you.

You waited for that to be all, but he continued. “I don't want you there all the time, either. I thought it would be enough for me to say that I was your boyfriend and to talk to you. But no, it doesn't seem to be enough. This alliance suits us both. You, because you want to be with me and me, because it keeps the professor distracted, who thinks I don't feel anything. So, tell me once and for all if you want to continue.” You were paralysed, until you let your heart win, and you decided that yes, you were going to continue. “I'm surprised you don't cry. At least that's a change.” Yes, you too were surprised that you didn't cry. You had the feeling of crying the whole day, wondering how to hold back the tears and make the words come out.

Tom never specified which teacher thought he didn't feel anything, but after dating him for three months, you came to the conclusion that that professor, whoever they were, was right, Tom doesn't feel.

Now you walked with him through the halls, letting his henchmen (whom he called friends in front of the others, or well, they claimed to be his friends) were a few steps away from you. You didn't talk to Tom. The both of you exchanged the odd word from time to time, just to avoid suspicion.

You used to be unable to keep your feelings, but now you have your hiding place. Behind Tom's back, you had started dating Simon Buxton, from Gryffindor. At first, you avoided Simon since he was always giving you hints that he wanted to be with you.

You were afraid that Tom would find out and do something to you, which was not a surprise. Sometimes at night you would find Tom reading things that were not correct, things about sacrifices.

But after a while, you realized that Tom really wasn't interested in you or your life. So you started sneaking out with Simon, that's what you were headed for right now, you walked away from Tom telling him you were going to find your friends, he kissed you on the forehead and let you go. The other girls around made cute sounds, telling you that you were very lucky, you ignored them.

In a short time you arrived at your hiding place with Simon, that place where they saw each other when they didn't want to be seen, that is, always. You found him already waiting for you a few steps beyond his hiding place, without waiting for him, he pounced on you.

He started kissing you and touching every part of your robe, you tried to stop him, since they weren't in the hideout yet. Without you realizing it, someone else entered the scene. It was Abraxas Malfoy.

He saw you and Simon, and he only needed to see them to go out and report the event to Tom. You continued kissing with Simon, you didn't know what was waiting for you.

-

You made it to the room after all your classes, thank Merlin that Simon released you minutes after you told him to stop.

You started to open the door of the room when you realized that it was already open, you went in anyway, thinking that it had only been your mistake. Freaking out when you see Tom, standing up, staring at you in the middle of your room.

“Tom, what are you doing here? Or rather, how did you get in?” You knew the answer to that last question, what you wondered was why he was there.

He completely ignored your two questions, “Do you know what would have happened if it hadn't been Abraxas who saw Simon and you kissing? Total chaos, they'd be out there saying that the perfect couple isn't so perfect. Do you know how it makes me look?” So that's what it was about, how it makes him look.

“I'll be more careful next time.”

“You are funny.” He looked at you with a serious face, he didn't find a hint of humour in it. “It won't happen again because you won't see Simon any more, that disgusting blood traitor.”

“Don't call him that! Besides, if I'm careful, no one is going to find out and no one is going to ruin your oh so precious reputation.”

“It's not just that, darling.” You didn't know why, but that flattery felt full of poison. “You are mine” he came closer to you as he spoke, “You are mine from the moment you first looked at me. I remember your face when I told you that I would be your boyfriend. You looked so excited.” he'd say with fake preoccupation as he touched your face, and for some reason you couldn't bring yourself to remove it, “It doesn't deserve to see that.” His face changed from fake shock to looking completely serious, the more you looked at him, the emptier his black eyes looked.

“Simon pleases me, he listens to me and understands me. He does everything you don't. I think you should find another girl for this.” You said with teary eyes.

“I don't want another girl, I want you!” He grabbed your shoulders and slammed you against the door, a few steps behind you. “And I have you, and I won't let you go. Ever. Do you hear me? Ever.”

----

You ate your food while you listened to the other girls talk about how tragic the news about Simon were. He had been missing since the day Tom threatened you.

Since that, Tom has wanted to sneak into your room to bite your neck while you cry over Simon at night, taunting you with small whispers, “Are you still crying over the traitor? Mm, too bad, I think you should stop thinking about him, he's not coming back” as his hands encircle your entire body.

At that moment you realize that the professor was wrong, Tom does feel something, the problem it's that it isn't love.

[sashimj]

COLLAPSE (oc (my male y/n) x canon fic! i finally cooked🫠😤)

summary: tom riddle is trying to find a way to make the perfect potion. he thinks that the secret lies in precise calculation and following instructions. however, his new potions partner thinks a little differently and, to tom's great indignation, turns out to be right. working in a team now seems not as terrible as tom initially thought because, for some reason, his newfound partner unintentionally showed him a whole new kind of witchcraft.

notes (MUST-READ!!!): ooc!tom i think..., it's an oc/canon fic, but you can read it as a y/n fic, or just replace my oc with your own if you have one! i'll be PLEASED AS HELL if you do so! this fic, or rather the one phrase in it (it's the highlighted in bold one) is inspired by the movie "Pi" 1998, and I ADVISE YOU TO WATCH IT, it's amazing! both characters are fifteen in this fic.

BTW, english isn't my first language, so i'm extremely sorry if there are mistakes!

word count: 1.4k

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Professor Slughorn's suggestion to work in pairs seemed irrational to Tom. Yes, of course, it was a certain experience, but only when you were experimenting, not honing the skill. Oh, and the partner himself was actually unknown to him - a strange boy with a strange name. Xander Alex Sashimj, a metamorphmagus, from Hufflepuff. Tom had heard of his ‘special approach’, and potions ability, thanks to Slughorn, but had never seen them in action, as he and this student had never encountered each other in the same class until the current fifth year. Well, Tom was slightly intrigued. Slightly.

Taking his usual seat, Tom looked around the classroom. Everyone was slowly pairing. Mostly by choice. Slytherins with Slytherins, sometimes with Ravenclaws. Gryffindors with everyone around them except the Slytherins. As usual.

The smell of various herbs and plants gave the potions class a special atmosphere. It was already quite stuffy in the room, and so the mixture of different aromas was slightly stupefying. Especially horklump juice and lavender that were on a nearby table. Tom exhaled and wiped his hands. That gesture showed a growing irritation that was quite inherent in his life. Where the hell was his new affiliate?

The door to the classroom creaked open, and three Hufflepuffs appeared on the doorstep. Sashimj was among them, smiling at something. He greeted Professor Slughorn and looked timidly around for his Slytherin partner. Tom was staring at him point-blank. Seeing his seat, Xander walked faster towards it and sat across from his new partner.

"Hello. We're kind of working together now, aren't we? " Sashimj tried to start a conversation by smiling awkwardly at Tom. Riddle unconsciously and imperceptibly looked at him with an appraising eye. It was possible to do so since they were next to each other now. Short, with disheveled hair and an awkward look. There was a mixture of anxiety and excitement in his eyes.

"Turns out that we are." Tom answered a little indifferently.

"Sashimj," the Hufflepuff extended his hand sharply for a handshake, but suddenly pulled it back slightly, "Xander Sashimj. Just call me by my last name."

Tom hesitated, still studying the student in front of him.

"Tom Riddle," He replied, shaking the hand of his new acquaintance, “Nice to meet you,” he forced himself to say it.

Sashimj nodded, glancing at the ingredients on the table. He was about to ask something when Professor Slughorn spoke. Today's potion to be brewed was Wit-Sharpening Potion. It was the penultimate lesson of practicing brewing this potion and consolidating information about it before a small exam. Tom sighed audibly. He didn't like this potion. It wasn't working out the way he wanted it to, and every time, Riddle seemed to be missing something. His previous potions were of high quality and worked as intended, but Tom wanted perfection. To taste that flawless result, at least.

Sashimj, on the other hand, beamed at the mention of Wit-Sharpening Potion. He rolled up his sleeves and opened his notebook, looking through some of the entries to refresh his memory. Meanwhile, Tom had already started his work at this point. He tensed slightly, measuring the dosage of each ingredient literally to the milligrams. Some of the tension showed up on his face. Xander watched his actions and over-concentration, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"W-Why do you need such measurements? It's not like it's a medicinal potion. It'll work fine as it is..." the Hufflepuff boy struggled to open one of his ingredients and glanced at Tom, starting the work with his usual actions. Riddle paused and gritted his teeth slightly. He didn't expect a different reaction.

"I just aim to achieve a decent result."

It was perhaps the flawlessness that Tom wanted, which only a few could archive in the potion making process. That seemed like the very trait of Slytherins, who always strived for perfection in any endeavor. Riddle hadn't mentioned it, but Xander could guess it himself.

"Quite a meticulous approach," Sashimj chuckled, trying to ease the tension. It didn't work well judging by the still uneasy look on Riddle's face.

"A proven one. It wouldn't work otherwise," Tom replied confidently, trying to hide the fact of his past failures. But he was tempted to ask his new partner if he had anything to offer, "Do you have any suggestions?"

His question sounded more mocking than interested. Tom glanced over at the Hufflepuff, who was smiling again for some reason.

"Well... Maybe the problem is in that exactly... I-I mean, maybe you're thinking too much? Sometimes you could use more of, well, your own senses or creativity..."

Tom found himself in a bit of a stupor after hearing that. He was thinking a lot?

"That legitimately sounds like something I'd expect to hear from some Ravenclaw," Tom grinned wryly. He could barely keep from smirking as he saw Sashimj pouting at his words slightly. "What do you mean?"

Xander sighed, drew his lips into a fine line, and frowned at Tom, trying to look into his eyes more seriously.

"Don't be so thorough, sort of," Sashimj shrugged, trying to explain his approach, "Just do as you feel," the boy nodded towards his cauldron. All that time, he worked spontaneously and even kind of sloppily, stirring the bubbling liquid rhythmically. So far, it was a right lime color, with no swampy hues.

"You mean measuring by eye? "Riddle asked. The way Sashimj described it made him laugh internally. It was just an obvious reluctance to follow instructions. There was no special 'hidden' meaning here, was there?

"Well... not really," Xander chuckled awkwardly, "I mean relaxing."

Curiosity flared up inside the Slytherin. Alright, he will try. Just for the sake of showing his negligent partner that it didn't work and wouldn't work that way. Tom exhaled and concentrated again. He continued his work not so 'meticulously' anymore. Or so he thought.

"Tom," a quiet voice came from the opposite side, "you're thinking too much again..."

Riddle raised an eyebrow.

"Stop thinking, Tom. Just feel. Use your intuition." Sashimj explained, almost without looking up from his work. He finished his potion and showed the filled vial to Tom, thus completing the task faster than anyone else in the class. The potion was the right shade, not muddy as it often was, and had a clear odor with no impurities.

Tom's face didn't change, but his eyes were a little rounder. He wanted to open his mouth, either to object or out of indignation.

"Try it. Turn your head off and trust yourself," Sashimj nodded towards the cauldron in front of Tom, trying to encourage his partner. He raised his hand for Professor Slughorn to check his work. After a quick examination, Slughorn praised his student, saying something about Hogwarts being lucky to have so many talented young wizards and witches this year.

Riddle bit his lip, fighting his own feelings. He really had always relied on his own calculations to the exclusion of any spontaneity or freedom. And it was even funny, considering his existing desire to break a certain order as a way to achieve his goals.

He exhaled and relaxed. The boy was still looking at it skeptically, but the earlier desire to taste the flawless result was slowly being replaced by a desire to taste his own talent and his own feelings that were shoved deep inside his mind.

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The work he had done felt different than before. Tom had a natural predisposition for potions, but the process itself had always involved him calculating and following instructions. Now, however, it was as if everything was different. And the potion was different as well. Tom could see that it was fresher and more pure than any of his previous potions. Riddle grinned to himself, thinking he'd been tricked. More likely, though, he was just afraid to admit that it was perfect.

This was confirmed to him by Slughorn, who checked the students' work at the end of class. He had always expected a lot from Tom, but he was surprised at the amazing result he had achieved when paired with another student. The professor confirmed that his decision to pair up two talented kids was the right one, feeling the good result even more to his own credit.

Thus, Sashimj, who had been working alone all this time, became interested in working with a new partner, especially a Slytherin. Meanwhile, Tom became interested in Sashimj, a boy who seemed to have shown him a type of magic completely unknown to him before.

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THANK YOU FOR READING!!! btw, that's how sashimj looks like in detail, plus some info about him!

[dinoplantsghost]

pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: time-accurate prejudice, violence: t0rture (Cruciatus Curse), teenage behavior: drama and language, mentions of weed

word count: ~6383

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- this chapter is so goofy, i've been holding off posting this one because of a summer assignment that i just finished

Chapter List

Plans, Delusions, and Yappers [5]

“Look, she’s back at it again.”

“She’s embarrassing me, she needs to stop…”

Miles, with a teasing smile, patted Orion’s back as the boy pressed his forehead against the wooden table, his cousin’s scratchy voice digging into everyone’s ears as she attempted to intimidate the new girl after class. 

It was 16:45. DADA had finished 15 minutes ago, and students were left with about an hour and a half before their last class of the evening. While it was implemented for students to catch up on work, many used it to talk amongst themselves in the classroom. 

Orion’s cousin, Walburga Black, had a reputation for screaming. She had many suitors, as well as many enemies—ones that she made herself with her bad attitude. Orion explained it as her parents’ coddling her since birth. One thing she was known for was her obsession with the boys she fancied—with Tom Riddle being her ultimate infatuation. 

It wasn’t surprising, though. Many girls had attempted to win the boy over. Letters, boxes of chocolates, even love potions were sent to him on the daily, annoying his followers whenever they would find a new object at the foot of their dorm entrance. A common theory is that Tom wasn’t attracted to girls at all, but of course anyone who voiced that opinion would be left with scratches on their face by infuriated, hormone-driven girls. 

“I heard how you hurt Tom,” Whined Walburga, arms crossed as she stood in front of a startled Saoirse. “I heard he could have died! What do you have to say for yourself?” 

“Well, he didn’t die,” Saoirse shrugged. “He’s right there. I’m sure he can take care of himself, whatever your name is.” 

Pointing to the boy in one of the higher rows, Saoirse went back to writing notes, until Walburga snatched the parchment from underneath, her quill digging into the pulp and ripping a tear in the middle. 

“He could have,” she cried. “And my name is Walburga! Walburga Black!” 

As the girl spit in Saoirse’s face, garnering the attention of the entire class—Professor Merrythought was long gone in her office—the boys in the upper rows watched with intrigue. 

“Why is she yelling,” Orion groaned, on the verge of ripping his black locks off his scalp. “I don’t want to write to my Mum again, Yule Break is going to be filled with gossip and I hate it.” 

“Speaking of writing,” Miles said, turning to lean in close to Tom. “I wrote to my mother, like you asked. I got the same results; she knows nothing. She’s getting irritated by it, so I don’t think I should be asking her anything anytime soon.” 

Tom huffed, his nostrils flaring as he glanced up from his book. “Then help Abraxas and Orion with their task.” He uttered, drooping his head back down away from the rest of the world. 

Miles caught his words on his tongue, hands waving as he looked at the other two in question. Abraxas pressed his lips together in a line, gathering all his energy before standing up. “I have an idea about what he wants.” He sighed, pulling Orion and Miles with him as they walked down the steps between the rows of seats. 

“Tom said to keep her close,” Abraxas said. “And I assume he means to befriend her. He doesn’t make sense sometimes.” 

“Tell me about it.” Miles nodded; his eyes wide. “He’s literally been asking me to do the same thing for months, and he thinks Merlin is going to bless us with a different answer; he’s just lucky my Mum likes him.” 

“He never gives me anything to do,” Orion said quietly. “It makes me wonder if he likes me at all; I don’t know what I’m doing in the Inner Circle. Last night was the first thing I’ve been tasked with in a while–and we didn’t find a bloody thing.” 

The three boys stood behind Walburga’s own posse. “Well, you’re our orator; we’re putting your smooth talking to work, mate.” Abraxas said. 

“We’re all orators; we’re blue-blooded, ‘Brax.” Sassed Orion.

Waving a hand, Abraxas coughed in his fist before shoving the girls to the side, Miles doing the same with a happy smile on his two-tones lips. “Excuse me, ladies, hot men coming through.” 

“What do you three want?” Walburga asked, hands on her hips as she glared at her cousin and his friends. 

“Cousin, you need to stop with these dramatic debacles,” Orion frowned. “I don’t want to write to my mother again; you’re embarrassing.” 

Walburga scoffed. “You wouldn’t understand; you’ve never been in love.” She made a face, her eyes scanning the three boys in front of her. “Unless you’re here to save the girl. Surely not, right?” 

“No,” he stiffened. “Why would that cross your mind, that’s not—look, just stop yelling. Tom doesn’t need someone to ‘stand up for him’ if that’s what you think you’re doing.” 

Miles and Abraxas nodded. “Yeah, and to be honest, Tom doesn’t like you at all—he thinks you’re annoying.” The boy with dark skin said, happy to see the hurt look on the girl’s face. 

“You’re wrong, I’ve been getting to him! Just the other day, I made him flustered by the way I caressed his arm.” 

The boys coughed. That was the night of their first meeting of the week. He hated the way she touched him. He came into the Room of Requirement with a green, sickly face.

“That’s not what happened.” Laughed Miles. “But anyways, we’re done talking to you.” He pushed Walburga to the side, unaware of his strength as she fell to the ground. 

“Saoirse,” Abraxas said, getting the attention of the girl with blue hair. “Do you happen to have the notes from today’s lesson? Miles and Eloise were bothering the rest of us during class.” 

The bespectacled girl looked up, “Why don’t you ask for notes from Riddle? Aren’t you friends with him?” 

Before Abraxas got a word out, Orion blurted out: “Yes, but he’s been in a bad mood lately. We just thought we’d ask you since word’s been going around that you have really good marks.” 

“Also,” sang Miles. “A friend of ours has what we like to call a ‘crush’ on you. The boy with the pepper hair and glasses—the nerdy one.” 

Following the finger Lestrange held out, Saoirse turned around to see the boy in question with his head down, a quill of black tufts wiggling around with each letter and word he wrote. Sensing the pairs of eyes staring in his direction, he looked up, his blue orbs locking with her jade ones before his cheeks turned pink. 

“Why does he want to crush me?” Saoirse asked, concern on her face as the three Slytherins in front of her laughed. 

“No, what Miles meant is that Patrick likes you,” explained Abraxas. “He wants to get to know you, with the intention of starting a romantic relationship rather than a platonic friendship.” 

Scratching her head, Saoirse cursed mentally at how confusing English euphemisms and idioms were. “I could talk to him,” she said boldly. “A boy’s never been interested in me; I want to know what that’s like.” 

As the girl stood up to pack up her belongings, the boys stood with open mouths. They didn’t expect her to go along with it. Miles was only joking, after all. “You, you want to talk to him, right now?” Miles asked, leaning against the backs of the two boys in front of him. “That’s nice of you and all, but I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“No, I want to,” she said, putting on her crossover satchel. “You can lead the way up the stairs.” 

The boys led in silence, throwing each other glances as the girl followed them from behind. 

As they made their way to the top, the others in the group did a double take, with Eloise yelling out in surprise for a moment. “What is this,” he cried. “How did you get the pretty girl here? Did she finally realize how amazing I am—wait where is she going?” He frowned, gasping when he watched the girl tap Patrick on the shoulder. 

“Excuse me,” she said quietly. “Your friends told me that—I apologize if I say this incorrectly—you have a crush on me. I would like to entertain your feelings.” 

Patrick, his scribbles coming to a halt as he looked up to see sparkling jade in his vision. Her looks were a fresh breeze among the muddle beauties in west Europe. Like the moon, only a lucky few truly understood the beauty she held. However, unlike the moon, her beauty was her own, not something that is borrowed from another source. Patrick would spend all his time staring at the moon if he could. Seeing Saoirse made him appreciate Astronomy class a bit more. 

“Who told you I fancied you?” He mumbled, his fast heart stopping the moment he heard the laughter of Miles, Abraxas, and Eloise, with Louis and Orion smiling as well. 

“That Lestrange boy told me,” Saoirse said, her lip wavering in a smile. “But I came here on my own accord; I don’t usually see eyes like yours. They’re pretty—like the ocean.” 

Meanwhile, Eloise was punching Miles on the arm as Patrick moved his belongings to the floor to make room for the girl to sit next to him. “How could you do this to me?” He cried. “I can’t be losing her to that nerd—all he ever talks about are those books he has, he’s going to bore her to death!” 

“I don’t think so,” Louis laughed. “Look; they’re both smiling at his book. It sucks to be you, Avery.” 

“You can’t be saying anything,” huffed Eloise. “Especially since you don’t get any girls. At this rate, I’m starting to think you’re one of those homosexuals or something.” 

Before Louis could get a word out, Eloise left the group to join his other Slytherin friends on the other side of the room. “I’m sure he’s just joking, man,” Orion said. “You know how he is; don’t let it get to you. His pride is a wee, fragile thing.” 

Nodding, Rosier smiled at his friends tight-lipped, silently appreciating the way Miles patted his back. 

“They wouldn’t get it at all,” muttered the curly haired boy. “You’re a good guy; Cassius is just too dumb to realize it. It’ll get through his thick, empty head eventually.” 

Louis sighed, tugging at the elastic in his hair. “Yeah, sure.” He ran a hand through his yellow strands. “Cassius doesn’t even like guys, anyways, Miles, who are we joking?”

“Come on, man, don’t say that,” stressed his friend. “That’s some weird brain you have, Louis. My gut tells me that Cassius feels some type of way for you—something definitely not friendly in any way; he calls you Rose for Merlin’s sake, that means something, yeah?” 

At the mention of the nickname, Louis’ cheeks turned pink. “I guess so, but he only says that because we’re best friends. We knew each other before we could walk.” 

Miles scoffed. “No one else gets to call him Cass’, and he gets mad whenever we try to call you Rose. Don’t be dumb, Louis.”

Orion leaned back, throwing himself into the conversation again. “Hey, did we ever figure out what her blood status is? I would hate Patrick to fancy her if she weren’t a Pureblood.” 

The other two looked at each other, the previous conversation vanishing the moment someone else joined their exchange. “Does that really matter,” Miles asked. “I thought we were going to—you know—after we got what we needed from her.” 

“I thought that was a last resort type of thing, was it not?” Louis said, his confusion synonymous with his friends’. 

Plans never went well with the Knights of Walpurgis. Even before Tom joined their group—when they were younger and much more naïve. Whenever they would hang out, they could never consolidate their plans for the day, and it eventually left them stuck in a garden or in a forest behind the manor they were at for the time being. 

Orion sighed, looking back to Patrick and Saoirse, who were happily chatting away about whatever the boy had in his book. “Merlin’s balls, we’re fucked.”

 ┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

23:47 - Astronomy

The night was sparkling as usual, the wind chipping away at Patrick’s lungs every time his chest would take in a breath. Somehow, for whatever reason, Professor Jensen paired him up with Saoirse. He had to stand next to the girl for three hours until class ended at 1:00. Patrick was sure he was going to die by the end of it.

“I’ve never seen these constellations before,” Saoirse muttered, her eye pressed against the telescope. “This star is usually connected to this star—the Rigel. We call it Heike-boshi; it represents the war between two clashing families.” 

Patrick could only nod, his mind too drunk on the scent of jasmine and sandalwood drowning his nose. “Well, we call that star Betelguese,” he cleared his throat, his stomach flipping as he moved closer to write down on the chart they were given. “The red one; it connects to Alnilam and Bellatrix. We call that constellation Orion’s Belt.” 

Saoirse made a sound of wonder, removing her face from the telescope to rub the red circle around her eye. “When I was younger, my mother used to tell me stories about the stars.”

Patrick smiled, taking the telescope from her to look at the stars on his own. “What’s your family like? I’m sure they’re wonderful, considering how great you turned out.” 

“That’s an overstatement,” blushed Saoirse. “I don’t really talk to my parents all that much anymore. I haven’t gotten a letter from them since I started school; Mahoutokoro usually takes children in at the age of eleven, but some join as early as seven. The only letter I’ve gotten from them was when I got expelled, and that was only a couple of days ago.” 

The boy frowned, setting the telescope to the side as he looked over to the girl. “That’s really brutal,” he adjusted his glasses, “Why don’t they talk to you? Is it a magic thing? I know that some Muggleborns and Half-bloods don’t talk to their parents for religious reasons.” 

“No, that’s not it; I’m a Pureblood. I never knew why they stopped talking to me. It never crossed my mind to ask, actually.” 

“Well, whatever the reason, I think it’s good you don’t have them in your life; it wouldn’t be fun having people who don’t like you micromanaging your every move and whatnot.” 

Saoirse laughed, “Are you speaking from experience?” 

Her laugh made Patrick’s stomach explode. “A little bit,” He shrugged. “Being a Pureblood in Europe is kind of brutal, especially since my family is part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight; it’s some elitist group and it’s not worth knowing in my opinion. You have to present yourself in a certain fashion; know this, be discouraged from that. It’s all a bunch of rubbish, really…” 

Saoirse nodded. She opened her mouth to respond, but the professor announced that class was about to end. “It doesn’t feel like we’ve been here for three hours.” She muttered. 

“Time goes by faster when you’re enjoying yourself.” Patrick said, his frames covering the dust of pink and red on his skin. 

As they packed up, picking up pens and other instruments, their hands brushed against each other every now and then, almost purposefully. For once Patrick didn’t mind that his friends dragged him into their shenanigans. 

“Hey, Quidditch season started not too long ago,” he started, adjusting his satchel on his shoulder. “I was wondering if you wanted to watch the first match with me? It’s on the first Saturday of November; it’s Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, and even though I’m not on the team, I know enough to teach you the rules.” 

Saoirse smiled, nodding at the boy. “Sure, I’d like that.” 

As the two departed, Patrick left the girl with weak legs, his heart beating out of his chest. Fumbling to clean his fogged up glasses, a pair of Oxford shoes filled his blurry vision. Looking up, he recognized the fuzzy figure as Tom. 

“Nott,” he said, a frown apparent on his face the moment Patirck put his glasses back on. “Walk with me.” 

The commute back to the Slytherin common room was quiet, Patrick’s heart still beating out of his chest out of fear rather than anxiety. 

“What did the girl say to you?” Tom asked. 

A breath fell from his nose as he replied, “She’s a Pureblood, and she doesn’t have a good relationship with her parents; that’s all she told me. I was going to ask about spells, but class ended not long before.” 

Tom nodded. “Despite that information being useless, you obtained more than the other three, and Avery who is supposedly infatuated with her; good job.” 

Patrick fumbled a ‘thank you’ from his thin lips, unfamiliar with the boy’s praise. Tom left him by the Slytherin entrance in the dungeons, turning the corner to begin his Prefect rounds for the night. 

Heaving out a large sigh, the Austrian entered the common room, his feet dragging him up the left staircase that wrapped around the humongous statue of Salazar Slytherin in the middle of the room. Opening the door to his shared dorm, he rubbed his tired eyes and kicked his shoes off, his satchel falling to the floor before he fell to his duvet. He groaned, gaining the attention of the three boys he’s shared a dorm with for the last four years: Orion, Miles, and Eloise. 

“You okay, mate?” Miles asked, his body lounged on the carpet near his bed. 

“I think I asked Saoirse on a date,” he mumbled, his neck and ears steaming and his cheeks burning red. “And she said yes…” 

Eloise, who was playing Wizards Chess with Orion, gripped the board before slamming his castle into the offensive position. “You’re joking,” he yelled. “You have to be bloody joking, Patrick—how?”

“I don’t know, it just slipped out of my mouth; I asked her to watch the opening Quidditch game with me that’s in two weeks—I’m fucking screwed!” 

Orion laughed, unable to focus on the chess game in front of him. “And what did Tom think about that? Is he mad that you’re having fun with her?” 

Patrick sat up, his peppered hair a mess and his glasses toppled on his nose. “I forgot to mention that part to him; I only told him that she said she was Pureblood and that she doesn’t like her mum and dad.” 

“She’s a Pureblood?” Miles gasped, his chin propped in his palm and his feet swaying in the air behind him. “Oh, you got lucky, Patrick; I’m so proud of you!” 

“I’m not,” scowled Eloise. “This bastard doesn’t even know how to dress for a date—a date that’s a school Quidditch match, mind you!” 

His face was as red as his hair, his hand haphazardly throwing his pawn away. Orion shrugged, using this to take the game and gain an easy check. “I don’t know why you’re so offended, El’,” he said. “You don’t actually like Saoirse, do you?” 

“Well—no,” he scoffed. “But I haven’t had a girl in a while and Patrick single handedly gained the prettiest one I’ve seen since Gemma Nettles from Gryffindor.” 

“Gemma Nettles graduated two years ago.” Miles commented, to which Eloise cried out dramatically in response. 

“Exactly!”

 ┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

The following two weeks passed by, each day causing more and more butterflies to develop in Patrick’s stomach. He lost sleep, tossing and turning at the endless possibilities for disasters to take place at the game. His glasses could be crooked, the Quaffle could fly and hit his face, hit her face; Hell, a bloody Bludger could come and hit both of them!

Every time he saw her during class, he hated it. He never met a girl as academic as she was, not in the way others were at Hogwarts; she was different. He was lucky he only saw her a few times throughout the week. Astronomy class had to be his favorite, though. Professor Jensen, bless that man, decided to keep the pairs permanent for the rest of the school year, meaning he had three hours of Saoirse to himself, for four days out of the entire week. 

Of course, Tom would ruin it the moment class was over, demanding for a ‘status report’ as he always called it. Truth be told, Patrick had been avoiding the questions he needed to ask her; he lied to Tom, saying that Saoirse was very tight-lipped and would always change the subject. She always had something interesting to say, whether it be something Patrick already knew or something new entirely; he just loved hearing her talk. 

Her voice; it was probably Patrick’s favorite thing about her. Whenever she would speak in her mother tongue, trying to teach Patrick some things in their spare time, she was like a siren. She would lure him in with her voice, her melodic tones as she kept her voice down to a mere whisper, tingles teasing his back and his ears. 

Her lips were pretty too, in his mind. They were very plush and pink; it always reminded him of a bunny’s nose. For once, he wondered what it would feel like to have them pressed against his. 

He found himself thinking about her almost obsessively with how he started to pick up romance books for the sake of imagining her in those scenarios. He had to hide those books under his pillow, of course, as he wouldn’t see the light of day if his friends ever found him reading about a domestic life and two cats. 

When Sunday finally came, the first of November, he balanced on the balls of his feet as he waited near the Ravenclaw Tower, the bronze eagle head keeping him company on the door. Even with all the winter clothing he had on, he felt a cold sweat coming. He was a nervous wreck, to say the very least. 

‘What if she sees stains on my clothes?’ He whined, a frown on his face as he watched people in blue leave the tower one by one. 

Finally, after what seemed like an hour, Saoirse’s voice hit his ears, like a feather bouncing on a fluffed up pillow. “Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be this cold; I had to change into something warmer.”

Looking down at the shorter girl, he was glad the cold had something to do with his flushed cheeks. Her face was covered up with her blue and bronze scarf, a puffball situated on the top of her head from her winter beret. Her hair, brighter than any blue she was wearing, was in disarray underneath all the yarn. 

“Are you okay? You look like you’re suffocating under all that clothing, Schatzi.” He smiled, his fingers finding their way to her beret to readjust it on her head. 

His mother always told him that women liked having special names specifically for them; he recalled how often her face got red whenever his father called her sein hase. He always liked how German terms sounded over English ones. 

“Schatzi,” Saoirse echoed, her accent jumbling her voice as she tilted her head to the side. “What does that mean?” 

Patrick shook his head, too embarrassed to explain now that he had the confidence to say it to her face. “It’s nothing, Saoirse; don’t worry about it.” 

Being the courteous boy he was raised to be, he offered an arm, his smile growing when Saoirse took it. “In Quidditch, there are two teams with seven players each.” He explained, leading Saoirse out the castle and down to the Quidditch pitch in the grass. “There are three Chasers, two Beaters, one Keeper, and one Seeker. Chasers focus on a ball that’s called a Quaffle, and the Keeper has to make sure it doesn’t go into their team’s goals. The Beaters focus on the Bludger; it’s a mean ball that attacks the Chasers. And finally, the Seeker has to look for the Snitch. If the Seeker catches the Snitch, the game ends and their team gets one-hundred-and-fifty points.” 

Saoirse nodded, her eyes squinting as the heavy winds chilled her skin. “I think I know that game, Japan has a National Quidditch team, I believe.” 

“Really? That’d be good to mention to my friends—most of them are on Slytherin’s team. Orion is the captain and Keeper, Cassius and Louis are the Beaters, Abraxas and Miles are Chasers, and Eloise is the Seeker.”

“Who’s the other Chaser?” Saoirse asked.

“Some seventh year. Orion will have to hold tryouts for that position next time—that is, if the guys keep their positions into our sixth year.” 

When the pair made it to the stands, Patrick made it his mission to have an iron grip on the girl’s hand, afraid of losing her in the tough crowds of Slytherin as they yelled across to the students in yellow who were equally as passionate and loyal to their respective team. Patrick led Saoirse through the green, eventually moving to wrap his arm around her as they navigated towards a certain spot the boy was trying to find. 

“There you are,” Patrick said, sighing as he sat down next to his fellow bookworm. “I was worried you got so bored of the game that you decided to sit this one out, Riddle.” 

Saoirse looked on with surprised eyes to see Tom sitting in the stands, his usual pout evident amongst the loud cheers and swears of his peers. When he looked up from his book, he looked equally surprised to see her holding Patrick’s hand. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked. 

“Patrick asked me to join him for the evening. What are you doing here?” She asked, returning his question as she sat close to the Austrian boy. 

“Riddle has to be at every game, to make sure people don’t go crazy in the stands.” Patrick explained. 

“Good evening, ladies and gents’,” yelled a voice, the crowds screaming at the top of their lungs. “Welcome to the first Quiddtich match of 1942! My name is Tracy Mayfield—fifth year Ravenclaw—and today I am accompanied by my good buddy, a seventh year Hufflepuff—one of the very few Americans on campus—give it up for: Eugene Griffin!”

“Good evening, everyone! I hope you’re all doing mighty fine on this very windy day. With us, we of course have mister Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore! A long name for an awfully old man—hm? ‘Just get on with the match’? Okay!”

Saoirse, recognizing those names, tugged on Patrick’s sleeve. “I know those two boys; they checked up on me when I was in the Hospital Wing a couple weeks ago.” 

“Really? Even that Eugene guy?” Patrick frowned. “I heard bad things about him—my friend, Eren, said that he’s kind of on ‘active duty’—promiscuous, if you will. He’s not someone you should be around, and that includes whoever he’s friends with.” 

“Tracy was really nice, though, and so was Ava-Lynn from Gryffindor.” Argued Saoirse. 

“People aren’t always what they seem, mein schatzi.” 

The girl pouted, her shoulders sagging as she huffed. Turning back to the field, she held onto her beret as stripes of green and gray filled her vision. 

“There they are folks,” yelled Tracy. “The Slytherin Quidditch team, and their leader Orion Black! Always so poised and quiet, that boy.” 

Eugene screamed, his lanky figure almost halfway off the spectator’s tower. “And there’s my house’s team, led by the absolute beauty of a girl, Annabeth Clearwater! You know folks, Tracy and I made a nasty bet for this match—20 Galleons is a lot for me, guys, please win!” 

In his microphone, Eugene coughed. “Fuck—Professor don’t elbow me like that…yeah, yeah, it’s not gambling, sir, I promise. I don’t even know what gambling is! No, I don’t use it for weed—why, do you have some?” 

The game blitzed past Saoirse, the impact of the teams’ brooms whipping by the stands causing her to hide her face in Patrick’s arm the entire time—not that he minded. Luckily she was able to keep a mental image of the game with Tracy and Eugene’s commentary, along with Patrick’s since the other boys would get off topic, especially Eugene.

Within the next hour, the two teams were neck-and-neck, with Hufflepuff having 20 more points than the snake team, who was at 190 points. With the high energy swirling around the pitch, both Patrick and Saoirse were on their feet, hands clasped against one another as they yelled and complained every time someone on Slytherin’s team gained a foul of some sort. 

Tom, on the other hand, held his book in rigid fingers, his knuckles white with fury every time he was bumped in the back or shoulder. It especially didn’t help since Patrick, someone he knew—or at the very least thought he knew—was quiet, now wasting his voice on a stupid bloody game, with a stupid bloody girl. 

He knew he lied; he knew Patrick wasn’t telling him everything Saoirse told him. The boy wasn’t the best liar in all honesty. Despite the valuable information the girl held, she wasn’t worth losing a follower over. All of this goopy, lovey-dovey feelings his researcher had developed was turning his sharp mind into mush. Tom would be having a conversation with Patrick soon enough. 

“Oh, and there you have it, folks! Slytherin wins with three-hundred-and-thirty points!” Yelled Tracy, his voice wavering as he was shaken by his tall friend beside him. “Suck it, Eugene, I won the bet—no, we don’t get to split, you stupid piece of—”

“We won!” Laughed Saoirse, her glasses lopsided as she jumped to wrap her arms around Patrick’s neck in a fit of emotions. 

His nose was engulfed in her jasmine and sandalwood scent, slowly but surely buried itself in cerulean strands of hair. “Yeah, we won,” he chuckled, his hand going to her upper back. “You have a lot of Slytherin pride to be a Ravenclaw, you know.” 

“I don’t think I would mind being a snake.” Muttered Saoirse, pulling away from their embrace, much to Patrick’s disappointment. 

As the two made their way down the stands, with Tom dragging his feet in tow, they congratulated the Slytherin team on winning the first game, a sign of good luck for the rest of the season. 

For once, Saoirse enjoyed being around loud people, despite how sweaty they were when they pulled her into the group hug they shared. In all of her life, she never laughed this much before; Mahoutokoro was never a place for laughter, after all. 

The group made their way to the locker rooms, with Eloise, Miles, Abraxas—and to Saoirse’s surprise, Orion, all sang boisterously with their arms hooked together as they skipped their way across the field. 

“Saoirse,” a voice said, the figure tapping on the girl’s shoulder. “I need to talk to you for a second.” 

Turning around, Saoirse looked up to see Eugene staring down at her. 

“You can talk to her later, she’s busy.” Said Patrick, his eyebrows set in a scrunch as he pulled Saoirse gently by the wrist. 

“Please, I just need to ask a question—it’s about Ava-Lynn.” 

“Patrick,” Saoirse said softly. “I think I’ll be fine, don’t worry; I’ll find you later, okay?” 

With a smile, the girl slipped out of the boy’s grasp, walking back out into the middle of the field to speak to the Hufflepuff. 

“Have you spoken to Lee lately,” Eugene asked. “I kind of got into an argument with her a week ago, and I haven’t seen her since.” He sighed, his hand disappearing behind his neck. 

The two sat down in the grass, the cold sending chills up Saoirse’s body as the dew drops made contact with her shins. 

“Usually I would talk to Tracy about this, but he talks to her frequently so…but basically she led me on, I have no other ways to describe it other than that. For weeks, I put everything into her—into us, what we could have been; I was just waiting on her, and I’m just starting to unpack it now. It hurts—she hurt me; she put me through so much, just for it to end in a few words. I did everything for her; she said she loved me multiple times, too, but then she had the gall to tell me that she ‘didn’t want this outcome’ like I was the one who said we couldn’t be together.

“And I would sit there, plead with her; tell her everyday why I loved her, why I thought she was so unbelievably amazing in every aspect. I just…I put so much time and energy into her for weeks, for someone who I thought loved me, to someone who actively said they loved me. And I would have been fine if we were still friends, but she had the nerve to make me go through all of that just to tell me, ‘I’m not going to talk to you anymore.’ Like, who the fuck are you? I did nothing but make you comfortable and safe and you want to leave me in the dust? I never want to be spoken like that ever again, just for someone to say ‘I don’t want you in my life anymore.’” 

Saoirse sat stunned in the grass. She was never close to Eugene, she had only known him for about two weeks, after all. He seemed so sad, his lanky body almost collapsing in on itself as he held his head in his hands. She couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he was weeping into his palms at the moment. 

She didn’t know how to comfort him, let alone comfort someone in general. After all, Patrick was the only boy who’s shown any genuine interest in her; Saoirse had never experienced heartbreak of any sort before. 

“Well,” she coughed. “It’ll all pass, won’t it? I don’t know you all that well yet, but, maybe it’s for the best. People come and go, and only the people that truly matter in your life will stay. It’ll be a slow process, I’m sure, but eventually you’ll be a brand new person with a brand new perspective. Always focus on yourself, Eugene; never pour your energy into people who don’t want it, especially now that you know she doesn’t want it.” 

The boy, silent, muddled over her words, his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “I guess so,” he sighed, “and I’m sorry for pouring all of this onto you—you barely know me, like you said.” He laughed, though without any humor left in his tone. 

“That’s okay, stuff happens.” Saoirse shrugged. 

“Why are you so nice? I would be so annoyed if I were in your position.” 

“I guess I’m just nosy, but I’m not annoyed at all. You seem like a good guy to talk to, and I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time right now. It must be difficult to keep to yourself. I’m really flattered that you feel comfortable enough to tell me this.” 

Eugene gave her an upside-down smile, his downturned eyes blinking wet tears away as he sniffled. “Thank you, Saoirse.”

───────────

The boys each plopped onto a nearby cushion in their dorm, bodies complaining as they ached and begged for a soothing touch. 

“I’m so exhausted,” Eloise coughed. “That ice bath didn't do a thing, I could barely walk here.”

A knock was heard from the door, “Hello, room service!”

In the entrance stood Cassius, with Abraxas and Louis all in comfortable clothes, their hair cascading down to their shoulders. Tom, as the others expected, strutted in with his robes rippling behind him, a hardened look on his features as he walked up to Patrick. 

The boy, currently on his back and staring at the ceiling in thought, was thrown into a world of knives and needles as the Slytherin Heir used the Cruciatus curse. 

“You really think you had me fooled,” drawled Tom, the other boys stumbling in a line as they witnessed their friend seizing up in the comfort of his own duvet, sweat dripping down his temple as his glasses fell to the side of his head. “That girl is turning your brain into pulp; you need to focus on your objectives—your loyalty to me and me only.” 

“I am focusing on my tasks,” Yelled Patrick, blue eyes wild with fear and anger. “I’m getting information from her, and I’m keeping her close—which wasn’t something I was supposed to be doing, by the way! Abraxas and Orion were supposed to be doing that, not me!” 

“Don’t talk back to me!” Tom chastised. He jabbed his wand to the boy, the curse stabbing into every inch of his skin and twisting into his guts. 

“My Lord,” Abraxas stuttered, taking a brave step forward. “Patrick is doing all he can—”

Tom craned his head in the blond’s direction, his lips set in a thin line as he flicked his wand. The Knights fell to the ground, their already exhausted bodies pleading for a blissful death as they met the same fate at Patrick.

“I think all of you are forgetting our mission.” He seethed, lifting the curse, but only just. 

The boys were silent, now nothing but limp figures—puppets for Tom to manipulate at his every whim. 

“That girl,” he muttered. “Is a threat to us getting to the Chamber—I cannot have her alive while I do all that I can for us— for our livelihoods!” 

He paced around on the carpet, his heavy step echoing with the pulsating aches of their heads. “I have done so much for you, and this is how you repay me? Running off to snog a girl, wasting time with a pointless and outrageous sport; it’s pathetic…” 

With a quick flip of his pale wrist, Tom had fifteen minutes before Astronomy class. He straightened his robes, a hand running through his sculpted hair before turning his focus back to the shivering young aristocrats on the ground. 

“I do believe I have enough time to stress the importance of my words.”

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436 - 1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest

[lacrimosaineden]

A Draco Malfoy love story.

When Margot Riddle returns to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry she can't wait to spend time with her friends in Slytherin. She wants to go to parties, gossip with her best friend Pansy Parkinson, and listen to her impressive vinyl collection.

Draco Malfoy knows his 6th year will be his most challenging year at Hogwarts. He thinks that the pressure to join the Death Eaters will be the only thing that plagues him. When he feels a new type of magic one night with his oldest friend who also happens to be the Dark Lord's daughter, he realizes his devotion to dark magic will be the least of his worries.

18+ Many trigger warnings, reader discretion is advised.

[astaldis]

Whumpers-Monthly - Ambushed at Home

@whumpers-monthly

Found something that I think fits the prompt nicely, but it's VERY old, actually from the first fanfic I ever wrote back in the times when not all the Harry Potter books were yet published and the most fantastic fan theories cropped up everywhere. This was the beginning of one of mine (based on an anagram) concerning a certain greasy-haired potions professor and his family background:

A Nightmare

Fandom: Harry Potter

Wumpee: Helena Evans (Original female character)

Whumper: Tom Riddle

Published: 2003-11-06; Completed: 2003-11-10; Words: 4,932; Chapters: 2/2

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage, Character deaths, unwanted pregnancy, attempted abortion

Characters: Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Lily Evans, OCs

Summary: After what happened at the Yule ball, Helena Evans' life turns into a nightmare. Pre-canon. 

From chapter 2 - The Nightmare continues:

Helena touched the doorknob and suddenly shuddered. Strange ... how could the metal feel so cold? It was a nice warm day in May, but oddly enough, the knob felt cold as ice. Something definitely was wrong, but what? Apprehension and fear crept into her heart and made her shiver. But she calmed herself down again. This was her apartment, situated in a nice and friendly muggle-neighbourhood, and, as always, she had locked it with several security-spells. The spells were still intact. Anyhow, she didn't work in any sensitive area in the Ministry but only as an apprentice in the department for muggle artefacts. There had just recently been incidents involving Aurors and employees of the Department of Mysteries being attacked for some unknown reason, but never anybody from her section, she assured herself. Her job was safe.

Since Helena was muggle-borne, she was pretty good at her job; she actually knew more about muggle artefacts than the rest of the staff, including her boss. Therefore, she was almost sure that she would get an offer for permanent employment before the start of holidays. She also enjoyed her work and did a lot of overtime. Working hard kept her from thinking too much, from falling into depression again. If only those dreadful nightmares didn't haunt her still ... But she kept a steady supply of Dreamless Sleep Potion, so her nights weren't that bad after all. Though she didn't think of herself as happy, she had found some balance in life again, thanks to her mother. If she had not taken control of her daughter's situation, arranged the apprenticeship (with some help of Professor Dumbledore, she suspected), found the apartment, and, most of all, taken care of her unwanted child, she would most probably have ended up in the gutter, Helena thought thankfully. And with the reassuring image of her mother in mind, she opened the door and entered her apartment.

Everything looked quite normal. Helena took off her muggle coat and shoes, and risked a quick glance into the mirror. Yes, she finally had gained some weight and didn't have this pale, haggard, haunted look about her anymore. Turning towards the living-room door, she suddenly felt a cold draft that chilled her to the bone. The door opened as if by its own will, and then she heard the laughter, high pitched and cruel like death. Panic-stricken, she staggered backwards toward the wall, shaking all over. This could not be, this must not be, oh, let me wake up from this never-ending nightmare!

"How are you doing, my dear?" The smooth and vicious voice asked as Tom Riddle slowly approached her, wand in hand ...

[dark-draconis]

Shattered Souls Sneak Peak:

Diadem Tom Riddle: Cold and Irritated “You are just some silly naive teenager who has no clue what she’s messing with.”

Seraphina: unfazed and nonchalantly looking over her potions assignment “I know enough that I can sever your soul from the plain of existence with a little incantation. Want to keep going?”

[mamalunawolf]

The (Almost) Capable Woman

TW: mature and sexual content. Minors don’t interact. Mentions of three people. Professor Riddle X ocreader (Amaya) X oc(Jackson) 🔞

Amaya and Jackson are mine. Thank you 😊

Author notes: I wrote this while putting my kid to sleep. So I’m sorry if it seems off. Also they are all adults in this time. I absolutely love how this went. Even though I made Amaya seem like a whore. But I swear in actuality, she is a loyal one type gal. I wish to roleplay her again.

Amaya wasn’t capable of many things.

Like simple equations or how to act well around others without slipping a few mumbled curses under bated breath. No. She couldn’t even hold a broom properly. Each slip up and she would fall. Or the fact that her history of magic was as bad as Professor Binns. Even though he would go on for hours. Poor girl and how she now became a herbology professor for Hogwarts. At least she had her friend, Jackson who aided her during their school days. Now that he was a top Auror. How kind and gentle he was to her. The way he offered to take her to the Hogsmeade fall festival dance if no one else would. The way her fingers slip so easily and delicately into his hands. Or how a pair of unwanted eyes gazed at her from afar. Seething and wishing to take her as his own. Professor Riddle was quite the character. Either you catch him on his good days or bad days. And the fact he aided her on her defense spells was a phenomenal achievement. Behind closed doors that is. Those private lessons paid off once she won her first duel. And he stood in the corner cheering her silently with a fist almost torn off by his teeth.

Oh how quite the character..

Now it was a matter of time when Professor Slughorn decided to have one of his annual dinners. The old man would talk on for hours and boast about how Tom Riddle was his prized student. And now had her friend, Jackson being the star pupil. How Jackson smiled with pride as she complimented him on his achievements. And Professor Riddle would clench his fork in his hand to the point it almost bent out of shape.

“Excuse me for a moment.” Amaya said softly, placing her napkin onto the side of the table of her now empty plate. Only for both Jackson and Professor Riddle to not hesitate for even a moment. To stand from their seats, the table shifting abruptly. As they wished Amaya a good night. She wasn’t even out of her seat yet when they suddenly stood. Or how oblivious she was to how smitten or head over heels they were for her.

How one wishes to taste her skin while the other wished to have her themselves. And that’s when she realized. She was capable of something.

As she stood in the empty dark classroom. Sitting on top of a desk. Her leg over one man’s shoulder, Jackson on his knees. Letting his lips brush along her inner thigh. While Tom was behind her, his hands touching her sides like she was just a canvas needing to be painted. His lips grazing across her neck. She had the power. She had full control over them. And she was enjoying every minute of it.

[royalxenawolf]

River Black and the Philosophers Stone Chapter 3: Into The Alley

Warnings: Alternate Universe, Original Characters, Crossover(BBC Merlin & Harry Potter), Fix-It, No Beta Reader, Sane Tom Riddle/Not Evil Tom Riddle.(if i forgot anything let me know) Victoria belongs to @brokken-emo-lost

Words: 8,766

Master List

A few days after the escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor from the zoo, Harry and Atlas awoke early in the morning. Even though they knew it was daylight, they did not want to get up yet. They were content with laying in their beds, wrapped up in the duvets, and ignoring all of the noises coming from below their flat in the main area of the Leaky Cauldron. But this morning, it was notably louder than usual.

The Leaky Cauldron is always loud and full of noise, a well-known fact that the residents had to make peace with long ago if they chose to live there. And yet, despite the fact that it was always loud and bustling, there was a noticeable difference from the usual loudness that Atlas and Harry had grown accustomed to. So, they were happy with electing to ignore it. That was until a sudden loud tapping noise sounded out.

Atlas flopped over onto his belly, burying his face in his pillow with a groan, while Harry pulled his duvet up over his head in an attempt to ignore the tapping. Tap. Tap. Tap. Atlas popped himself up on his forearms, hair falling into his face as he turned his head and glared at his and Harry's bedroom door before swinging his legs over and jumping down from the top bunk.

Harry sat up in his bunk and watched as Atlas walked to the door. Harry threw the duvet off of himself and got up slowly, shuffling his feet over to the small wardrobe in his and Atlas's room. "I'm going to get dressed," Harry said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Atlas hummed in response while opening the bedroom door. Tap. Tap. Tap. The noise came again as Atlas walked down the hall towards the annoying tapping.

He heard the shower turning off and blinked a little to get the sleep from his eyes. "Mum is up already," Atlas thought to himself as he walked into the kitchen. There, rapping its talons on the window, was a gray owl. In its beak was the daily newspaper. Atlas rolled his eyes. As close as they lived to Diagon Alley, Atlas never truly understood why they always got their newspaper via owl post. But nonetheless, he walked over and opened the kitchen window.

The owl swooped in and landed on the table in the middle of the small kitchen. It dropped the newspaper and started to squawk. "Alright, alright," Atlas said to the owl as he walked over to a glass container that looked a lot like a biscuit jar. It sat on the worktop in the kitchen. The owl continued to screech and squawk as Atlas picked up the jar. "You will get your payment. Hold on," Atlas said as he glared at the owl in annoyance.

Atlas typically loved animals of all kinds and varieties, but for as long as he can remember, he swears this exact same owl has been delivering the daily newspaper, and it is always impatient. Atlas takes the lid off of the jar and looks in... empty. It's empty. Atlas sighs and sets the jar back down as the owl's squawks and screeches got louder. Atlas looks into the hall. "Hey, Mum!"

River caps her eyeliner and looks away from the mirror. Normally, she wouldn't bother putting on makeup or trying to keep up appearances, especially when just going into Diagon Alley. However, with all the noise going on, it was very obvious that a lot of people were using the Leaky Cauldron to get into the alley today, which meant there was a chance she might run into someone she used to know. And well, it's best to give them as little ammunition against her as possible.

River placed her eyeliner down in front of her mirror and poked her head out of her bedroom door. "Yeah?" Atlas heaved a sigh of relief at the sound of his mum's voice. "Where are the Knuts at for the newspaper? They're not in the jar," Atlas called down the hall.

River swore under her breath. She had forgotten to refill the biscuit jar with Knuts last night. She turned and looked down the hall. "I'll take care of it. Just go get dressed." Atlas looked over his shoulder at the owl screeching on their kitchen table. Honestly, he thought he would prefer being in his room than anywhere this particular owl was located.

Atlas turned and started speed-walking down the hall. "I will go do that right now," Atlas said, passing his mum's room and into his and Harry's room. He quickly opened and closed the door behind himself. Atlas looked up, and there was Harry, fully dressed, just casually lying on his bed flipping through an old photo book. Atlas looked at Harry like he had somehow personally offended him. "Have you been in here dressed the whole time while I was out there dealing with the owl from hell?" Atlas exclaimed at Harry while pointing towards the bedroom door.

Harry slowly looked up from the photo book and directly at Atlas. "Well, I just thought since you seemed to be handling it... that you didn't need my help," Harry stammered out as Atlas stalked closer towards the bunk beds. "You—" Atlas said as he pointed a finger at Harry, "—left me out there to face that horrible creature alone, how could you Harry, your own brother." Atlas finished his sentence by throwing himself onto the bed across Harry's legs.

As Harry grinned, he shoved Atlas off of his legs to the floor. "You would have done the same to me," Harry shot back as he sat up fully and crossed his legs. Atlas propped himself up on his elbows and grinned up at Harry. "Maybe, maybe, but you can't prove it." Atlas climbed up onto his feet and walked to the wardrobe. "Did you get the owl sorted?" Harry asked, grabbing his and Atlas's shoes from under the bed. Atlas looked over his shoulder while pulling a black t-shirt from the wardrobe. "Huh? Oh no, mum said she would." Harry nodded and put his shoes on.

River walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen, coin pouch in hand, as the owl continued to get louder and louder. River looked at the owl once in the kitchen and, as she suspected, Sr. Reginald hissed at the owl for being loud, and the owl hissed back at him in return. "Okay, let's see," River said to herself as she counted out five bronze coins and walked over to the owl, who held out its leg where a small leather pouch was tied. River placed the coins in the pouch. "There you go, five knuts." The owl turned and flew back out of the opened kitchen window as River sighed.

After breakfast and River reminding Harry and Atlas to stay close to her and also reminding Harry to keep his hair brushed down over his forehead, they were all out the door and down the stairs. River led the way as Harry and Atlas chattered away excitedly behind her. After all, they had never actually been to Diagon Alley before, despite living so close to it. "How do you think we will get into Diagon Alley?" Harry asked Atlas excitedly. Atlas waved his hands in front of his face as he answered, "Probably some super secret magical passageway." Harry's eyes widened. "Do you really think so?" Atlas gave Harry a smile. "Well, I mean, it has to be that, right? The Leaky Cauldron is a door between muggle and magical." River chuckled to herself as she stopped in front of a brick wall at the back of the Leaky Cauldron, the boys stopping behind her and looking at the wall confused.

"Uhhh, mum?" Harry said while looking at the wall. "Yes, dear," River said as she turned to look at the two boys. Harry and Atlas looked at River as Harry pointed at the stone wall. "That's just the back wall of the Leaky Cauldron." Atlas looked at the wall with a skeptical expression. "Yeah, what Harry said." River grinned. "Just watch," she said as she turned back to face the wall. But right as River took her wand from her pocket, a voice sounded from behind them. "E-e-excuse m-me." River, Harry, and Atlas all turned around, and there standing not too far from them was a pale young man who made his way forward, very nervously. How strange, Atlas thought, as he took notice that one of this man's eyes was twitching.

"Yes?" River asked as she twirled her wand with her fingers, an old habit she had taken up when she first received her wand years ago. The young man looked even more nervous with River twirling her wand as he looked at her and the boys. "Are your b-boys g-going to h-h-h-hogwarts?" River looked at Harry and Atlas as they both grinned. "Yes, we are," Atlas said, looking so proud of himself and Harry. The man looked at the boys. "Well, i-i-its nice to m-meat you. I-i'm q-q-q-Quirinus q-q-Quirrell. I-i will b-b-be o-one of y-y-your t-teachers at h-h-h-hogwarts." Atlas tilted his head as he looked at Quirrell. "It's nice to meet you, Professor." Harry looked up at Quirrell, bright green eyes shining with curiosity. "What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?" "D-Defence Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Quirrell, as though he’d rather not think about it.

Upon hearing Quirrell's muttered answer to Harry's questions, River's eyes snapped to him. She stared, thinking, "So this is him. This is the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." River tilted her head to the side and looked Quirrell up and down. In River's opinion, he did not look like much. From the way he appeared, River thought he was barely suited to be the librarian for Hogwarts, let alone the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. River smiled with her teeth and stepped forward, "So you're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor? It's so lovely to meet one of my boys' future teachers. I really hope you don't lose any of your limbs while teaching." Quirrell looked at River and laughed nervously as he turned back to the boys, “Getting all your equipment, I suppose? I’ve got to pick up a new book on vampires, myself.” He looked terrified at the very thought. But he continued on, "Perhaps we will run into each other." Both boys shrugged. "Maybe," Atlas said as River put one boy on each side of her. "Right, well we best be going, you know, things to do and all that," River said, turning around with the boys to face the wall again. "Right, now watch this," River grinned as she held her wand in hand. "Okay boys, pay very close attention, alright?" Harry and Atlas nodded as River lifted her wand to the wall. "Three up... two across..." River said, making sure Atlas and Harry were paying attention. "Right now, stand back." The boys did as they were told. As River tapped the wall three times with the tip of her wand, the brick she had touched quivered and wriggled. In the middle, a small hole appeared. It grew wider and wider. A second later, they were facing an archway large enough for even a giant, an archway onto a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight. “Welcome,” said River, opening her arms wide, “to Diagon Alley.” She grinned at Harry’s and Atlas’s amazement. They stepped through the archway. Harry and Atlas looked quickly over their shoulders and saw the archway shrink instantly back into a solid wall. "Alright, which one of you has the list?" River asked as she watched the boys staring at anything and everything they saw. Harry looked up at her. "Huh? Oh! I have mine right here." Harry pulled the list out of his pocket and handed it to River, who opened it and read it aloud as she began walking.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Uniform

First-year students will require: Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

Other Equipment

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT

ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

River looked over the list again to make sure that she didn't miss anything. "Well, everything looks like the standard," she said. Atlas and Harry looked at River. "Mum, will we be able to get it all?" Harry asked as he and Atlas observed how the sun shone brightly on a stack of cauldrons outside the nearest shop. Cauldrons of all sizes, copper, brass, pewter, silver, even self-stirring and collapsible, said a sign hanging over them. Oh, how Harry and Atlas wished they had about eight more eyes. The boys turned their heads in every direction as they walked up the street, trying to look at everything at once: the shops, the things outside them, the people doing their shopping.

"Of course, we will. There's not much that Diagon Alley doesn't have," River turned to look at the boys and smiled. They were taking in everything around them with such amazement it was impossible for River not to smile while watching them.

"Ey! Hold on there!" A loud booming voice called out further back up the alley. River, Harry, and Atlas all turned their heads. Walking towards them was an enormous man, he was at least twice as tall as a normal man and five times as wide. He had a long, shaggy mane of thick black hair and a wild, tangled beard that hid most of his face. As he walked through the crowd, they parted around him to make more room. River smiled, recognizing Hagrid, and waved to him as he lumbered his way over.

"There yer are, been lookin' everywhere for ya," River stepped back and looked up at Hagrid with a smile. "Hello, Hagrid." Hagrid lifted his hand in greeting. "River," before he turns to the boys and looks at Harry. "Harry, I'd recognize ya anywhere. Look just like yer dad, ya do," he then turns to Atlas. "And this must be Atlas, should've known, got yer dad's hair." Harry and Atlas stared at Hagrid for a bit before finally Harry spoke up. "Uhh, thank you... we think," Atlas looked Hagrid up and down. "Sorry, but you seem to know us, but we don't know you." Hagrid chuckled. "Right, I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, but just call me Hagrid, everyone does." The two boys nod. "Right, well it's uh, nice to meet you, Hagrid."

River placed her hands on her hips and looked up at Hagrid. "What brings you here, Hagrid?" Hagrid shrugs and looks at River. "Oh, ya know, doing important business for Dumbledore." Atlas and Harry exchanged wide-eyed looks. Dumbledore? They thought as they looked at each other. They had heard that name before from their mum. She always said to never trust an old man named Dumbledore, but mum was being nice to Hagrid, and Hagrid said that he was doing something for Dumbledore, so maybe there was something that they were missing. River looked at her boys out of the corner of her eye. She could almost hear the wheels in their heads turning.

"Dumbledore still has you running errands for him, does he?" River said, kicking at the cobble path with an old, well-worn boot. "Oh yeah, ol' Dumbledore knows he can trust me, and since I'm going to be here anyway, he asked me to help out Harry." River tilted her head. She may not trust Dumbledore... but she did trust Hagrid. He wasn't a bad person, didn't have it in him to be.

"So, I don't suppose you'd mind me borrowing Harry for a bit?" Hagrid asked, looking at River with hopeful eyes. "Where are you going?" Hagrid puffed out his chest. "Gringotts, of course." Harry and Atlas both looked excited. They wanted to see Gringotts. River sighed. "Well, alright." Harry grinned as Atlas turned to River. "Can I go too, mum?" Harry also turned and looked up at both River and Hagrid. "Can he?" Hagrid looked at both of the boys and laughed. "I don't see why not, if it's okay with yer mum, of course." River ruffled both Harry and Atlas's hair. "Alright, you can both go." Atlas and Harry went to run around but then turned around. "Don't get anything without us!" River laughed and waved them along. "I won't," River said as Hagrid walked past her to join the boys.

River turned to walk somewhere else but quickly turned around. "Oh, Hagrid, what did you say you were helping Harry with again? I completely forgot." River looked at Hagrid with a smile as he turned and looked at her. "Oh, well Dumbledore wanted me to show him his vault," Hagrid said, and River nodded. "Right, well you better go join the boys." Hagrid looked at Harry and Atlas. "Oh right, guess I better," and Hagrid lumbered off with the boys.

Once they were out of sight, River reached into her pocket and pulled out her keys. Among them was one tiny golden key. River looked at it, tiny and glistening when the sun hits it. As far as she knew, there were only two keys to the Potter's vault. She had one, and Victoria was supposed to have the other.

And if Hagrid had a key to the Potter Family Vault from Dumbledore then... River shook her head. No, it was best not to think like that. Victoria, wherever she is, she's strong and resourceful. She was fine... she had to be. River slid the key back into her pocket. Well, she might as well get what she needs while she waits for the boys. River walked down the street carrying Sir. Reginald in one arm when suddenly someone bumped into her.

"I am so-" River starts to say as a male voice cuts her off.

"Watch where you are going," River smirked as Sir. Reginald hissed at the man. She recognized that voice. River pulled her shoulders back, puffed out her chest, and looked up.

"Why, Lucius Malfoy, as I live and breathe. Fancy running into you here," before Lucius could say anything, River swiftly turned to the woman standing next to him and smiled. "Narcissa, darling, it is so good to see you again. How have you been doing, dear?"

Narcissa nodded at River. "Hello, River. I have been alright."

River looked at them, noticed that they had a boy with them. That's right, how could she have forgotten? They have a son around Harry and Atlas's age. River stepped back slightly and actually took in their appearances. Lucius had not changed much since Hogwarts. He was a bit older but he still had the same pointed face, and cold, pale grey eyes. His hair was longer now, it was still pale blonde but longer, tied back with a ribbon and what wasn't tied back was slicked back with so much gel that it was basically glued to his head. In his hand was a wooden cane with a silver snake head.

Narcissa stood next to him. She was still as beautiful as ever, still tall and slim, and very pale, with piercing blue eyes that could see into your very soul, and gorgeous long blonde hair that cascaded down her back, and she still had the same clear, cold voice as always.

Lucius and Narcissa's son was a different matter. He was tall and slender but not as tall as Atlas, probably around the same height as Harry, with blond hair, pale skin, a pointed face, and icy gray eyes. To most, you probably look like his father but to River, he looked like his mother except for the way his hair was done today. It was also slicked back, similar to how Lucius had his, and she couldn't tell if it was because the boy wanted to be like his father or if it's because that's what Lucius wanted the boy to look like.

River mentally shook her head. "Where are my manners? Who is this with you?"

Lucius looked down his nose at River and sneered as if she was lesser than him and in his mind, she was before answering. "This is our son, Draco. Draco, this is River Pendra–"

River cut Lucius off before he could finish. "Black, River Black."

Draco held out his hand and River shook it. "Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Black."

River smiled. There might be hope for this boy yet. "You too, young Mr. Malfoy."

Draco's eyes widened as he looked at the woman in front of him who had just shook his hand. Not very many people, or any at all really, have referred to him as young Mr. Malfoy. Young Lord, maybe on a rare occasion, but never mister. This woman seemed odd to Draco. His father didn't like seeing her and his mother almost seemed happy at the sight. He'd have to ask about it later once they were home.

"Excuse me?" Lucius said, grabbing River, Narcissa, and Draco's attention. "But did I hear you say Black?"

Lucius continued, still looking down his nose at River who smirked as she answered him. "Yes, you did. I married a Black too, remember? And I didn't have to offer the parents of mine money to do it."

River said, looking Lucius in the eyes as his sneer turned into a glare. "Watch who you are speaking to.”

River laughed. Oh, poor poor Lucius thought himself to be scary. "Or what? Look around, Lucius, we are in the middle of a crowded busy street. There are too many witnesses."

Lucius looked around and lowered his cane. "And what are you doing here?"

River tilted her head. "Getting school supplies for my sons. I'm sure you'll be most pleased to hear that they will be attending Hogwarts."

Lucius wrinkled his nose in disgust. River could not tell if it was because of her boys attending Hogwarts or something else. "So it is true then, you and that murderous blood traitor did produce a half-blooded welp, two in fact if what you say is true."

River glared at Lucius. She did not care what he said about her but she would not stand for him speaking ill of her husband or her children. "Yes, it's true... although I am shocked, Malfoy."

Lucius arched an eyebrow at her. "What are you babbling about?" he said, annoyed, and River smirked and shrugged. "Well, it's just that you have your hair glued to your head so tightly I can't tell if you actually have any or if it's painted on. I mean, as much grease is on your head you could probably sell it and feed a third world country."

River's smirk widened as she watched Lucius Malfoy go from pale to an awful shade of angry red while both Narcissa and Draco's eyes widened in shock. Well, shock on Draco's part. After all, he had never heard anyone speak to his father in such a manner before.

Lucius angrily turned to his family. "Narcissa, Draco, come. We are leaving. We have things to do."

River waved at their backs while Sir. Reginald mowed at Narcissa's retreating back. "Ta ta~ hope to see you again."

River turned around to continue on her way. "Now, off to do some shopping.”

Meanwhile, Harry and Atlas were enjoying their walk to the bank with Hagrid. As they walked, they turned their heads, looking at everything. There was a plump woman outside an apothecary, shaking her head as they passed, saying, "Dragon liver, sixteen Sickles an ounce, they're mad..." Low, soft hooting came from a dark shop with a sign saying Eeylops Owl Emporium, Tawny, Screech, Barn, Brown, and Snowy.

Several boys of about Harry and Atlas's age had their noses pressed against a window with broomsticks in it. "Look," the boys heard one of them say, "the new Nimbus Two Thousand, fastest ever." This instantly got Atlas's attention as he swiftly turned his head towards the shop with the brooms. "Did they say the new Nimbus Two Thousand?"

Harry grabbed Atlas by the arm as he tried to run off. "Come on, Atlas." Atlas looked at Harry and back at the broom shop. "But Harry, it's the Nimbus Two Thousand." Harry kept pulling Atlas by the arm. "We can look with mum."

Hagrid shook his head. "You act like you've never been to Diagon Alley before." Both boys stopped and looked up at Hagrid. "We haven't," Atlas said as he got Harry to let go of his arm. Harry nodded, standing next to Atlas. "Mum always said it might not be safe for us to run around Diagon Alley, so we've never got to come till today."

Hagrid kept walking as the boys ran to catch up. "I suppose she's right. Best listen to your mum," Hagrid winked at the boys, and they kept on their way. As they did so, Harry and Atlas looked at the shops. There were shops selling robes, shops selling telescopes and strange silver instruments that Harry and Atlas had never seen before, windows stacked with barrels of bat spleens and eels’ eyes, tottering piles of spell books, quills and rolls of parchment, potion bottles, globes of the moon...

Atlas looked up at Hagrid, wheels in his head turning with questions. "Hey Hagrid, are there any other Wizarding Banks besides Gringotts?" Hagrid looked down and shook his head. "No, just the one. It's run by goblins."

Harry looked up and grinned. "So it really is run by goblins?" Hagrid smiled. "Already knew that, did you?" Atlas nodded. "Mum always told us if we ever went to Gringotts to be polite and nice to the goblins and that they would appreciate it." Harry nodded and then added, "She also said that if we went to Gringotts to never touch what wasn't ours."

Hagrid's smile grew. "Sound advice that is. Of course, you’d be mad to try and rob it, I’ll tell you that. Never mess with goblins, boys. Gringotts is the safest place in the world for anything you want to keep safe, except maybe Hogwarts.”

Atlas tilted his head. "Do you come to Gringotts often, Hagrid?" Hagrid shook his head. "No, I got a visit to Gringotts. For Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly. "He usually gets me to do important stuff for him. Helping Harry – getting things from Gringotts, knows he can trust me, see.

“Why would you be mad to try and rob Gringotts?” Harry asked.

“Spells, enchantments,” said Hagrid, pulling a watch from his coat as he spoke. “They say there’s dragons guarding the high-security vaults. And then you got to find your way. Gringotts is hundreds of miles under London, see. Deep under the Underground. You’d die of hunger trying to get out, even if you did manage to get your hands on something.”

The boys walked and thought about this while Hagrid led the way. “Hagrid,” said Harry, panting a bit as he and Atlas ran to keep up, “did you say there are dragons at Gringotts?”

“Well, so they say,” said Hagrid. “Crikey, I’d like a dragon.” Atlas’s eyes widened in shock as he looked up at Hagrid. “You’d like one?”

“Wanted one ever since I was a kid. Here we go, Gringotts.” said Hagrid. They had reached a snowy-white building which towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its burnished bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold, was – “Yeah, that’s a goblin,” said Hagrid quietly to the boys' unasked question as they walked up the white stone steps towards him.

The goblin was much shorter than they were. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harry and Atlas noticed, very long fingers and feet. He bowed as they walked inside. Now they were facing a second pair of doors, silver this time, with words engraved upon them:

Enter, stranger,

but take heed Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn,

So if you seek beneath our floors A treasure that was never yours,

Thief,

you have been warned,

beware Of finding more than a treasure horde.

"Like I said, you'd be mad to try and rob it," said Hagrid. A pair of goblins bowed them through the silver doors, and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more goblins were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins on brass scales, examining precious stones through eyeglasses. There were too many doors to count leading off the hall, and yet more goblins were showing people in and out of these. Hagrid, Harry, and Atlas made for the counter. "Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come to take some money out of Mr. Harry Potter's safe." "You have his key, sir?" "Got it here somewhere," said Hagrid, and he started emptying his pockets onto the counter, scattering a handful of moldy dog biscuits over the goblin's book of numbers. The goblin wrinkled his nose. Harry and Atlas watched the goblin on their right weighing a pile of rubies as big as glowing coals. "Got it," said Hagrid at last, holding up a tiny golden key. The goblin looked at it closely. "That seems to be in order." "And I've also got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore," said Hagrid importantly, throwing out his chest. "It's about the You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which." The goblin read the letter carefully. "Very well," he said, handing it back to Hagrid, "I will have someone take you down to both vaults. Griphook!" Griphook was yet another goblin. Once Hagrid had crammed all the dog biscuits back inside his pockets,

he, Harry, and Atlas followed Griphook towards one of the doors leading off the hall. "What's the You-Know-What in vault You-Know-Which?" Atlas asked. "Can't tell you that," said Hagrid mysteriously. "Very secret. Hogwarts business. Dumbledore's trusted me. More than my job's worth to tell you that." Griphook held the door open for them. Harry and Atlas, who had expected more marble, were surprised. They were in a narrow stone passageway lit with flaming torches. It sloped steeply downwards, and there were little railway tracks on the floor. Griphook whistled, and a small cart came hurtling up the tracks towards them. They all climbed in, Hagrid had some difficulty, and were off. At first, they just hurtled through a maze of twisting passages. The boys tried to remember, left, right, right, left, middle fork, right, left, but it was impossible. The rattling cart seemed to know its own way, it had to be enchanted because Griphook wasn't steering.

Harry's and Atlas's eyes stung as the cold air rushed past them, but they kept them wide open. Once, they thought they saw a burst of fire at the end of a passage and twisted around to see if it was a dragon, but too late, they plunged even deeper, passing an underground lake where huge stalactites and stalagmites grew from the ceiling and floor. The cart stopped at last beside a small door in the passage wall, Hagrid got out and had to lean against the wall to stop his knees trembling. Griphook unlocked the door. A lot of green smoke came billowing out, and as it cleared, Harry and Atlas gasped. Inside were mounds of gold coins. Columns of silver. Heaps of little bronze Knuts. "All yours, Harry," smiled Hagrid. All Harry's, it was incredible. How often had Mum had to do without so that Atlas and Harry could have what they wanted. And all the time there had been a small fortune belonging to him, buried deep under London. Hagrid and Atlas helped Harry pile some of it into a bag. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle," Atlas and Harry said in unison. Hagrid laughed, "Well, sounds like your Mum's been doing a good job teaching you boys." Hagrid turned to Griphook. "Vault You-Know-Which now, please, and can we go more slowly?" "One speed only," said Griphook. They were going even deeper now and gathering speed. The air became colder and colder as they hurtled around tight corners. They went rattling over an underground ravine, and Harry and Atlas leaned over the side to try and see what was down at the dark bottom, but Hagrid groaned and pulled them back by the scruff of their necks. Vault You-Know-Which had no keyhole. "Stand back," said Griphook importantly. He stroked the door gently with one of his long fingers, and it simply melted away. "If anyone but a Gringotts goblin tried that, they'd be sucked through the door and trapped in there," said Griphook. "How often do you check to see if anyone's inside?" Harry asked as Atlas stepped a little closer. "About once every ten years," said Griphook, with a rather nasty grin.

Something really extraordinary had to be inside this top-security vault, the boys were sure, and they leaned forward eagerly, expecting to see fabulous jewels at the very least. But at first, they thought it was empty. Then they noticed a grubby little package wrapped up in brown paper lying on the floor. Hagrid picked it up and tucked it deep inside his coat. Harry and Atlas longed to know what it was, but knew better than to ask.

"Come on, back in this infernal cart, and don't talk to me on the way back, it's best if I keep my mouth shut," said Hagrid. One wild cart-ride later they stood blinking in the sunlight outside Gringotts. River was standing there waiting for them. Once she caught sight of Atlas and Harry, she smiled and waved. The boys waved back and ran to her.

"I trust you two enjoyed yourselves," River said when the boys stopped in front of her.

"We did! The bank goes so far underground," Atlas said, looking at River with a huge grin. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, and I have my own vault and it's full to the top with gold and silver and knuts too and–" River cut Harry off by placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Slow down now, you have to breathe." Harry nodded and took a breath.

"Okay, now let's go get the shopping done, yeah?" Harry and Atlas nodded. "Okay,"

Hagrid looked at River. "Is it okay if I slip away for a bit before I leave?"

River looked at Hagrid with a smile. "Sure thing, Hagrid." Hagrid nodded and lumbered off. Harry and Atlas didn't know where to run first, especially Harry, now that he had a bag full of money.

"Let's get your uniforms first," said River, nodding towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. So they entered Madam Malkin's shop alone. Harry and Atlas felt nervous. Madam Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said when Atlas started to speak. "Got the lot here, another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

In the back of the shop, a boy with a pale, pointed face was standing on a footstool while a second witch pinned up his long black robes. It was Draco. River tapped the boys on their shoulders. Atlas turned and looked at her.

"I have to go get some things real quick, but I will be right back, okay?" Atlas nodded. "Alright." River ruffled his hair before turning around to leave. As she walked out the door, she looked over her shoulder and saw Madam Malkin standing Harry on a stool next to Draco. She slipped a long robe over his head and began to pin it to the right length.

While Atlas stood close by Harry waiting for his turn, Draco turned his head to look at them both. “Hello,” said Draco, “Hogwarts too?” “Yes,” said Harry. “My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands,” said Draco. He had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first-years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully my father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” Harry and Atlas were strongly reminded of the pig boy from the zoo. “Have you got your own brooms?” the boy went on. “No,” said Harry. ”Play Quidditch at all?” “No,” said Atlas. “We go to games sometimes,” Harry said, trying to keep still. “I play, Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” “No,” said Harry, probably Slytherin or Gryffindor, Atlas thought as Madam Malkin finished with Harry and he stepped down. Atlas took his place and Draco continued, “Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”  ”Mmm,” said Atlas, wishing that Draco would shut up. “I say, look at that man!” said Draco suddenly, nodding towards the front window.

Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and Atlas and pointing at three large ice-creams to show he couldn’t come in. “That’s Hagrid,” said Harry, pleased to know something Draco didn’t. “He works at Hogwarts.” “Oh,” said Draco, “I’ve heard of him. He’s a sort of servant, isn’t he?” “He’s the gamekeeper,” said Atlas. He and Harry were liking this boy less and less every second. “Yes, exactly. I heard he’s a sort of savage, lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed.” “Well, we think he’s brilliant,” said Harry coldly. “Do you?” said Draco, with a slight sneer. “Why is he with you? Where are your parents?” “He’s a friend, we’re here with our mum but she’s busy,” said Atlas shortly. He didn’t feel much like saying more than that. “Oh,” said Draco. “But your mum is our kind, isn't she? And so was your dad, right?” “Our mum is a witch and our dad a wizard, if that’s what you mean,” Atlas clipped out as he glared at Draco. “I really don’t think they should let the other sort in, do you? They’re just not the same, they’ve never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What’s your surname, anyway?” But before Harry or Atlas could answer, Madam Malkin said, “That’s you done, my dear,” and Atlas, not sorry for an excuse to stop talking to Draco, hopped down from the footstool. “Well, I’ll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose,” said Draco.

Harry and Atlas were rather quiet as they ate the ice-cream Hagrid had bought them (mint and cookie dough with chocolate syrup). ”What’s up?” said Hagrid. “Nothing,” the boys lied. They walked around a bit before River joined up with them again, holding a bag, and then they stopped to buy parchment and quills. Harry and Atlas cheered up a bit when they found bottles of ink that changed color as you wrote. River bought them one bottle each to go along with their normal ink. They bought their school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather; books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk; books full of peculiar symbols and a few books with nothing in them at all. River and Hagrid almost had to drag Harry and Atlas away from Curses and Counter-Curses (Bewitch your Friends and Befuddle your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and much, much more) by Professor Vindictus Viridian. River wouldn’t let either one of the boys buy a solid gold cauldron, either (”It says pewter on your list”), but they got a nice set of scales for weighing potion ingredients and a collapsible brass telescopes. Then they visited the apothecary’s, which was fascinating enough to make up for its horrible smell, a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbages. Barrels of slimy stuff stood on the floor, jars of herbs, dried roots and bright powders lined the walls, bundles of feathers, strings of fangs and snarled claws hung from the ceiling. While River asked the man behind the counter for a supply of some basic potion ingredients for the boys, Harry himself examined silver unicorn horns at twenty-one Galleons each and Atlas examined minuscule, glittery black beetle eyes (five Knuts a scoop). Outside the apothecary’s, River checked the list again after waving at Hagrid as he lumbered off to do something for the second time that day.  “Just your wands left” a magic wand ... that was what Harry and Atlas had been really looking forward to.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window. A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair which River stood next to. Harry felt strangely as though he had entered a very strict library; he swallowed a lot of new questions that had just occurred to him and looked instead at the thousands of narrow boxes piled neatly right up to the ceiling. For some reason, the back of his neck prickled. The very dust and silence in here seemed to tingle with some secret magic.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harry, Atlas, and River jumped. An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said the boys awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you two soon. Harry Potter and Atlas Black." It wasn’t a question. "You, Mr. Potter, have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy. "Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration." Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that’s where ..." Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger. "I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands ... Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do ..." He shook his head and then turned to Atlas.

"And you, Mr. Black, you have your father's hair and eyes, but you more favor your mother. Let’s see, your father favored a cypress wand, thirteen inches, unyielding. Well, I say your parents favored it, it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course."

To Harry’s relief and Atlas’s, he spotted River. "And you, young miss, I do not remember selling a wand to you."

River smiled as politely as she could after hearing and seeing this man make her boys uncomfortable. "That is because you didn't, Mr. Ollivander. My wand was made by someone else.”

"Hmmm," said Mr. Ollivander, giving River a piercing look. "Well, now, Mr. Black. Let me see." He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Which is your wand arm?"

"I’m left-handed," said Atlas.

"Hold out your arm. That’s it." He measured Atlas from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and around his head.

As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr. Black. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.” Harry and Atlas suddenly realized that the tape measure, which was measuring between Atlas’s nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr. Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes. “That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr. Black. Try this one. Apple and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Solid. Go on, give it a wave.” Atlas took the wand and waved it around; the ink bottle on the desk exploded, and Mr. Ollivander took the wand away from him at once. “Blackthorn and dragon heartstring. Thirteen inches. Unyielding. Try this one.” Atlas took the wand. He felt an electrical feeling in his fingers. He flicked the wand with his wrist, and a stream of lightning shot from the end like a storm. River let out a joyous laugh, and Mr. Ollivander clapped, “Well done, Mr. Black, well done.” Atlas went and sat down next to River, and Harry walked up to Mr. Ollivander, “Now, then Mr. Potter, wand arm?.” He pulled the long tape measure with silver markings up off of the floor. “Oh, I’m right-handed,” said Harry. “Right then, hold out your arm.”

He started to measure Harry, same as he did to Atlas, after he was done measuring just like with Atlas he took down boxes. “Right then, Mr. Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.” Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. “Here, maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try –” Harry tried, but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. “No, no, here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.” Harry tried. And tried. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, at this point, Harry was starting to think that he had no magic at all and was losing hope that he was actually going to Hogwarts by the second, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves,

the happier he seemed to become. “Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere, I wonder, now, yes, why not, unusual combination, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.” Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air, and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light onto the walls. River and Atlas whooped and clapped, and Mr. Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious ...” He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper like he did to Atlas’s wand, still muttering, “Curious ... curious ...” “Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?” Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather, just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother, why, its brother gave you that scar.” Harry swallowed. Atlas looked at Harry worriedly, and River goes to grab Harry, “Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things, terrible, yes, but great.” Harry and Atlas shivered. They weren’t sure they liked Mr. Ollivander too much. River paid fourteen golden Galleons, seven Galleons each for their wands, and Mr. Ollivander bowed to them as they left his shop.

Once outside, Hagrid walked up to them carrying a large cage which held a beautiful snowy owl, fast asleep with her head under her wing. “Happy birthday, Harry,” Hagrid said, holding out the cage to Harry who took it and started stammering his thanks. “Don’t mention it,” said Hagrid gruffly. Harry looked at the owl in the cage then at Atlas and Hagrid. “So, is it okay if I share the owl with Atlas?” That made Hagrid chuckle. “She’s yours, Harry. You can do whatever you want.” Harry smiled at Hagrid. The late-afternoon sun hung low in the sky as River, Hagrid, Harry, and Atlas made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall and back into the Leaky Cauldron, now empty. Harry didn’t speak at all as they walked up the stairs; he didn’t even notice when Atlas shoved him onto the couch or that Hagrid had helped carry everything up to the flat before leaving. Harry sat on the couch with the sleeping snowy owl on his lap.

Harry only realized they were home when River tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, what do you want to order for dinner? Atlas said it was your pick,” River said. Harry nodded and River went out and bought pizza from a place close by and brought it back to the flat. They ate in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor. Harry kept looking around at what they had bought in Diagon Alley. Everything looked so strange, somehow. “Are you okay, Harry?” said Atlas. Harry wasn’t sure he could explain. He’d just had one of the best days of his life, and yet, he chewed his slice of pizza, trying to find the words. “Everyone thinks I’m special,” he said at last. “But I don’t know much about magic. How can they expect great things? I’m famous and I can’t even remember what I’m famous for. I don’t know what happened the night my parents died.” Atlas moved next to Harry on the floor and hugged him. “Don’t you worry about it, Harry. They don’t know you like me and Mum do and besides, we will learn everything once at Hogwarts, and I’ll be there so you won’t be alone. You’ll see, Harry, everything will be fine.” River nudged Harry who looked up at her as Sir Reginald crawled into Harry's lap. "You do not need to be some great and all powerful wizard, Harry. You just need to be yourself, that's all." Harry's eyes began to water and River held her arms open. Soon, she had both boys wrapped up in her arms and a cat on her shoulder as Harry cried. He cried for himself, for his parents, for Atlas, for River, but most of all, Harry just cried. Once Harry had calmed down and they started to finish the pizzas, River told them stories and showed them pictures of Hogwarts, of Lily, James, Sirius, Remus, Victoria, and herself. The rest of the night was a good one, filled with laughter.

[starcrossedyanderes]

Important question, which fic would you guys prefer?

[hufflepuffwithaslytherinkink]

Transmogrification of a Not Yet Lord - Chapter Snippet (Tom's POV)

Tom Riddle is sat at the Slytherin table, his friends surrounding him talking about where they went over the holidays, the balls they attended and other rich people shit that irked him. He wasn’t paying attention to their prattle though. It might annoy him but this time his attention was on something else. He could have sworn her saw the girl from the orphanage, the new one getting off the train. But that’s ridiculous, he thinks, she’s a muggle no one special. Besides he’d never seen her before in his life.

He's seen her around the orphanage over the past two weeks, obviously, you can’t avoid anyone there unfortunately. But he avoided her, just like the other waste of spaces that reside there. He doesn’t need to waist him time on muggles, they offer him nothing. Besides he was leaving the orphanage after Hogwarts, they’d already told him, as soon as he’s finished his education, he’s not welcome back. Not that he wants to go back to that place.

He scoffs thinking about how the new girl almost knocked him over, obviously a stupid muggle. She couldn’t even be bothered to look where she was going. How is she meant to be a witch?

He chuckles at the thought. Though he thought he saw her at Diagon Alley too, he was getting his new books when he swore he saw her eating an ice-cream. Though that’s ridiculous, where would she have gotten the money for ice-cream if she lived at Wool’s? He shakes his head getting rid of the preposterous thoughts, she was playing on his mind because her orphanage had been bombed. It’s something he worried about constantly, something neither he nor magic could stop happening.

He shudders at the thought, glad he’s away from London and in the protection of the wizarding world once more. He turns his attention to the first years being brought in, he doesn’t need to dwell on unnecessary thoughts of death, he’s safe now.

He assesses each one as they walk in, he’s bored with them all already though he needs to act interested, he is head boy after all. Yet he’s starting to lose focus, wondering how long this was going to take, he’s starving he hadn’t had a proper meal in weeks thanks to rationing when he spots her, the girl from the orphanage. She’s walking in with the first years, twice their height and bold as brass. What is she doing? How is she here? It can’t be her, can it?

He leans forward watching her intently. She’s the same height as the girl, tall with dark blonde hair and pale skin. It looks like her. But how can it be her? He’s beyond confused as he watches her wait with the others. Did she only just find out she’s a witch? Why is she only just starting Hogwarts?

Cantankerus Nott notices him staring and shoots him a smirk.

“She’s alright looking, isn’t she?” He leers into Riddle’s ear. “Suppose we’ll have to see what house she’s sorted into first though ay?” He laughs to himself.

Riddle wants to curse the moron, he doesn’t understand a thing. This girl had been in his life for almost two weeks, and he didn’t even know she was a witch. How could he let something like that get past him?

He’s annoyed with himself. He should have been more careful. Why was she sent to his orphanage? Not one in the country? Why now? He subconsciously twirls his ring around his finger. Did she know? Was she sent to spy on him?

He watches the rest of the ceremony with polite interest plastered onto his face, yet a burning rage inside him screams for them to hurry up. He wants to march across the great hall, grab the sorting hat from that stupid old fool and shove it onto her head, find out what house she would be in and pull the secrets from her head.

He sighs watching as another first-year clambers to the stool. This is taking too long, he thinks impatiently.

He starts to wonder what her name is, as more and more first years are called and she’s left standing there. Unless she’s not getting sorted, he thinks. Perhaps they’ve messed up.

His eyes narrow more and more as time passes, until eventually her names called. Amelia Smith.

She walks, no struts to the front. She’s certainly arrogant he thinks with a scoff. She lowers herself onto the stool, crossing her legs in a scandalous way, her skirt rising showing way more leg than appropriate. Riddle smirks, is that to show she doesn’t care or to tease the boys?

He hears Nott let out a hum of appreciation as Mulciber leans forward eagerly.

Riddle’s interest starts to become anger, the hat is taking it’s time in deciding her house. Of course, she would be a hat stall, he thinks bitterly. Just pick a damn house already. His agitation increasing the longer they wait. He doesn’t like not knowing, it puts him on edge.

The entire hall seems to have stopped breathing, everyone staring at the girl, Smith, curiously. Eventually the hat calls out “Hufflepuff.” Riddle lets out a huff, he’s a little disappointed if truth be told. A Hufflepuff? She won’t be of any use to them, no one in Hufflepuff was worthy of the title witch or wizard. And to think he was worried about her spying on him. They might as well snap their wands the moment the hat sorts them into that pathetic house he thinks, smirking at the thought. She’s no fret to him at all.

He leans back more relaxed now than before, he might be disappointed, but his relief overpowers that dramatically. The appearance of genuine food helping too.

Nott leans towards him with a dissatisfied expression. “Shame that, I thought she looked interesting. What a let-down.”

Riddle smirks at him, what a let-down indeed.

[the-girl-is-no-one]

Your favorite female fictional character?

This is a very hard and cruel question T.T

I chose my top3 female characters from my originals and fanfictions.

(from left to right)

1. Veronica Gyuradinovich from Tulips in the Cemetery {original}

Her surname is croation variation of my surname. She is a margravine in the Austro-Hungarian Empire in the 2370s. The story is a steampunk. She is stubborn and doesn't want to be married, but she falls in love with a grave-digger while a serial killer is killing people in Budapest. The hierarchy of rank, her injury and the killer make their lives more difficult. She inherited many traits from me: the intellectual, the emotional instability, the curiosity, the family situation, the attitude to the world. She's a rebel, but she's got morals and virtue.

2. Edahlia Sorensen from Blood of Yggdrasil {original}

She is a much-suffering character who first served the Empire, her fiancé was the Prince, then she saw the oppression and cruelty therefore committed treason. She was still needed to maintain the Empire, so she was not killed, but she was imprisoned for 10 years, where she was subjected to the most extraordinary tortures and brainwashed. As soon as she got out the King wants her to help, while the people want to see her as a rebel again, but she doesn't want to play either role. And in the meantime, his ex-fiancée shows up.

3. Natalia Szendrei from Just a drink {original}

OMG, I love her * - * She is very funny and clever and me :D She likes drinking, drawing, her job is chemist engineering which was mine too. I think she is the more open version of me.

Her story is that after a drunken night out, she suddenly starts seeing all men as women. And I love the connection between her and Robi, her staff member. (and alcohol...)

4. Scarlette Cowen from Conjuction {Twilight fanfiction}

She's been on my mind most of the time lately. I like her acceptance, her openmind, her wanting to help everyone as a doctor, she's not so naive, she's more realistic, resourceful and tenacious. She fights for herself, for her loved ones, lives in a modern world and yet she has to look back hundreds of years to become a witch. She know herself and knows what she want. I like the harmony between her and Carlisle, they complement each other.

5. Charlotte Bradwick from Legacy of the War {Peaky Blinders fanfiction}

She is a true survivor and friend, she went to the first world war after his platonic love and friend, where she lost a leg, but she was able to recover, return to home, Birmingham and enter the alcohol market in partnership with Shelby company. She lives her life and when the opportunity comes, she doesn't miss it, but she's not a pusher and manipulator however she can be cruel sometimes. She loves and wants Tommy, but knows she can't put pressure on him. She is very special.

6. Ludovica Siskovich from The devil doesn't sleep {Harry Potter fanfiction}

Ludovika was a good girl who was misunderstood, persecuted, and then captured and exploited by the Germans during the World War. Dumbledore was the only one who tried to help her, but he took her to Hogwarts but only to give her in the clutches of Tom Riddle. She was making great progress, Tom was increasingly exploiting her obscurity through his manipulations. She become a villain.

Sorry that I could't choose one :( I'd like to tell you about all my OCs in time :3

Who should I tell you about next? × Annabeth Outlaw - Marvel fanfiction × Ithya Lestrange - Harry Potter fanfiction (Golden trio era) × Vease Sargen - House of the Dragon fanfiction × Letisha Carnahan - The Mummy fanfiction × Nemezis - The Boys fanfiction × Lilith Blackburn - Wednesday × Wilma Hermann - D.Gray-man fanfiction × Ivy Lex - Now you see me fanfiction × Lysandra Harlowe - Game of Thrones fanfiction × Others in my original stories (× Sinthea Schmidt - Marvel fanfiction (I know, she is not an OC, but but I made a lot of changes to it compared to the comic) × Faith Fraser - Outlander x Poldark crossover (She is not an OC too, but she never grew up, so…)

[slytherinslut0]

hey can you please do tom x hufflepuff reader hcs??

Tom Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader headcanons.

(A/N: idk how this ended up being so long. i got carried away. i love tom. i love his complexity. i could write about him forever. anyways, enjoy:))

tom riddle and a hufflepuff reader would be damn near polar opposites, and there are a few reasons why i say this->

tom is a very reserved man, yet undoubtedly driven by an ambitious and power-hungry nature, always seeking dominance and control in every aspect of his life.

hufflepuffs, on the other hand, are known for their kindness, their loyalty, prioritizing the well-being of others over personal ambition.

tom riddle is the type of man who is not afraid to deceive others for personal gain, while hufflepuffs value fairness and honesty in each of their interactions.

not to mention how tom is emotionally restrained, rarely displaying vulnerability or empathy, while hufflepuffs are known for being emotionally open and expressing genuine care/understanding for others.

i believe tom would be rather annoyed by hufflepuffs, perhaps even put off by their loud, outgoing nature, but i also feel as though he would respect them more than other houses because they are known for being more by-the-book.

i believe this pairing would be WONDERFUL for him, and i’d imagine it’d go a little like this->

perhaps you and tom would be involuntarily paired up for an assignment, an unlikely collaboration that tom figured would be an easy mark for him.

originally, he’d find himself irritated by your constant cheerful and optimistic nature; finding it rather absurd that you weren’t at all fazed by his cold, cunning attitude.

there’d definitely be initial clashes between the two of you, disagreements of methods, but tom would find himself stunned as you met every one of his suggestions with a positive, passionate attitude, not daring to get discouraged or frustrated with him.

your unwavering optimism would be shocking to him. especially in the face of his calculated cynicism. it’d be then, that tom would be astonished by your dedication and genuine passion for learning, a rare quality to obtain.

his initial cold, guarded demeanour would slowly begin to fade.

tom would find himself beginning to pay more attention to you, his curiosity extending to outside the confines of the classroom.

he’d begin to wonder if your genuine kindness is truly authentic or merely a manipulation tactic, leading him to question the sincerity of your character.

which he’d only question because that’s the way his mind works.

he’d never known someone so open and genuine like you. he’d convince himself you had ulterior motives.

however, tom would quickly observe that your authenticity extended universally, and was not just directed at him.

your small acts of kindness and interactions with strangers became evident, and he’d witness your unwavering positivity even in the most challenging situations.

he’d notice how thoughtful you are, how you’d spend your free time maintaining the Owlery, ensuring it’s well-kept and sanitary.

he’d watch you from a distance as you continually brought the owls food and water, giving them attention and love which was something you did upon your own accord, without expecting any compensation.

it became clear to him that you did these things because you genuinely loved to do them, not because you wanted praise for it. and at this, tom was completely taken aback.

your radiant smile, capable of lighting up any room, would become a revelation to him, leaving him puzzled about how he initially overlooked this aspect of your character for all those years.

it’d be here that inner turmoil would begin to brew within tom as he’d have no choice but to acknowledge your ability to see the good within everything and everyone, and especially within him. something not many people are capable of.

as time passed, you couldn't help but notice a gradual softening in him.

during your collaborative sessions on the assignment, he became more receptive to your ideas, actively seeking your thoughts.

surprisingly, he started engaging in conversations beyond the project, asking about your day and exhibiting small changes in his demeanour that were entirely new to you.

tom was breaking, his walls slowly being chipped away by your infectious smile and enthusiasm.

the unexplainable shift in his perspective both intrigued and unsettled him, as you became the catalyst for awakening emotions he never believed he could feel.

he’d try to fight back, he’d try to get himself together, but it was useless. you were in his head, and there was no getting you out.

however, given the fact that tom struggles with showing even the smallest amounts of vulnerability, he’d try to be as subtle as possible with his interest in you. hoping that you’d eventually catch on.

perhaps he’d begin with small gestures, like gifting you a book on rare and beautiful magical creatures, saying that he noticed it in the library and thought of you, believing you might like it.

it would not go unnoticed by you just how considerate this was, and just how much he’d begun to take awareness of your interests.

you found yourself engrossed in the book, a sight that never failed to bring a subtle smile to tom’s face whenever he spotted you across the hall.

observing you immersed in the pages made him quietly content, often requiring a conscious effort on his part to break himself free from the captivation.

his brain would be screaming, “what the hell am i doing?” but he wouldn’t be able to deny just how much he loved seeing you enthralled by the gift.

the feeling was intoxicating, and wholly unfamiliar; he needed more. he needed to do more.

perhaps the next move he’d make would be to gift you a rare enchanted plant, after having noted your love for herbology.

he’d present the plant to you in a subtle way, saying that he’d found it while taking a stroll through the forest and thought you’d like it.

he’d go into details about its properties, its rarity and how to effectively take care of it, even though he knew you already knew all of this.

he knew you absolutely loved the fact that he cared for these plants just as much as you did. this was all part of his plan.

and of course, at this point, you’d have the hunch that he was into you; but being as perceptive and intuitive as you are, you’d know that pestering tom or trying to force him to admit feelings would be useless.

the man moves at his own pace.

so instead, you’d invite him to join you as you cleaned the Owlery, wanting to spend more time with him. the two of you would gradually become closer and closer, tom’s harsh demeanour fading away with the wind with each passing day.

and even still, tom hardly made any advances. tom hardly wanted to put himself in a vulnerable position. he wanted to be sure you wanted him before he ever revealed his intentions.

if he was touchy with you, he’d never insinuate it was because he’s into you. he’d kiss you on the cheek after walking you back to your dorm for the night, and then act like nothing ever happened in the morning.

and this might have annoyed some, but not you.

you understood that this is how tom was, and you admired him for it. you were entirely understanding. you wanted him to open up on his own terms, and you were willing to wait for him.

eventually, tom knew he couldn’t hold back his feelings anymore. he knew he needed to make you his. he knew he’d do fucking anything.

and this feeling would only multiply as he spotted you across the courtyard, speaking to a boy from your house.

your smile was glowing, your laugh was radiating, and the feeling this sight inspired inside tom’s heart could have been enough to ignite the entire castle into pure fucking flame.

whatever he was doing at this moment didn’t matter anymore, he only had one objective in mind.

making you his.

without waiting for you to finish your conversation, he’d interrupt, stating he needed to speak to you.

you’d smile, sensing his urgency, and follow him over to the far side of the courtyard, looking out at the breathtaking view of the faraway valleys and mountains.

as soon as tom was content with your seclusion, he’d cup the back of your head and crash his lips to yours, kissing you with enough fervour to make up for all the days and weeks and months he’d wished he’d have made a proper move.

pulling back, he’d meet your eyes. “i need you to be mine,” he’d whisper, as though the words scared him. “you’ve made me feel things i’ve never known possible, you’ve broken me down without effort. you are the most beautiful, genuine woman i’ve ever met, and i have been falling in love with you for months…i can’t hide it anymore, i need you…”

the words would be music to your ears, the joy unfathomable.

of course, you’d be his.

[dinoplantsghost]

pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: time accurate misogyny (???) and r@c!sm, canon-compliant prejudice & name-calling, teenage behavior (boys smh), language (swearing), mentions of murder & death

word count: ~4303

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- I hope yall can see that I don't know how to name chapters lol

Chapter List

Planning Ahead [2]

“Who is that, when did we get a new student?” 

“Her hair is an absolute disaster! Do you think she’s a metamorphmagus?” 

“What an awful time to transfer; does she even know any English?“

The whispers and stares grew stronger as the 5’6" girl walked through the large doors to the Great Hall, making her way to the long table in navy blue and bronze. Saoirse continued to ignore the comments and side-eyes and sat down at the very edge of the table, pulled out a thick book from her satchel and began reading in typical Ravenclaw fashion. 

At the next few tables over, a group of boys huddled amongst themselves. Out of the eight of them, they always surrounded one boy, without fail. He was the automatic leader of the group, the one they would turn to when in need, the one they were loyal to. He had them wrapped around his finger so effortlessly, and it disappointed him to see young men of such high status to be so dumb. 

“When are you going to make your move, Eloise,” Asked Cassius Mulciber, the sixth year of the group. “If you’re not going to do anything, I might just take her for myself.”

Eloise Avery scoffed. “If you think you have a chance against me,” he laughed, gesturing to himself. “You must have gone mental.” 

To the right of Eloise, Louis Rosier chimed in, mindlessly twirling his hair of honey into a braid. “I think you should totally try, ‘Cass,” he finished the braid with a tap of his wand, the ends of his hairs sticking together. “It wouldn’t hurt to.” 

Cassius reached across the table to give Louis a high-five, his wide build blocking the light from Patrick Nott, a fifth year of Austrian descent and the thinnest of the bunch. Irritated, Patrick placed his bookmark in the book he was reading, closed it, and slammed it repeatedly against Cassius’ left upper arm. “You. Bloody. Git!” He huffed, pushing his frames further up his nose bridge. “For the love of Merlin, sit down!” 

Cassius whipped his head around to the boy, his black and unkempt hair hitting the side of his face. Before he could get a word out, though, Headmaster Dippet stood up, projecting his voice with Sonorus. “Good morning, students. Today is the start of a new week, and with that being said, I would like to remind you all that playing Exploding Snap in the lavatories will result in a month’s worth of detention.” Laughter echoed throughout the Great Hall. “And before I finish this morning’s announcements, I would like to welcome our new student, Saoirse!” 

Dippet pointed his hand to the girl, who still had her head hanging low as she scanned the contents of Hogwarts: A History, unaware of the eyes staring at her. “Well,” the Headmaster coughed. “It seems like she is working very diligently to catch up to her peers. This is the perfect example of what your work ethic should look like, everyone. Now, pip pip!” Clapping his hands, he sat back down, quick to use Quietus to avoid any mishaps. 

Saoirse was finally pulled from her reading daze when she felt a tap on her shoulder. Looking up, she found a small man with elfish ears and crazed, white hair standing up in every direction. His eyes were kind and his smile was light. She could tell that he was a very genuine person. “Good morning, sir,” She smiled. 

“Good morning, my dear girl! My name is Linnaeus Flitwick and I am your Head of House. I’m here to give you your schedule.” He handed her a slip of paper before continuing, “Classes start soon, so be sure to leave the Great Hall soon so you’re in class on time, alright?” 

Saoirse nodded, skimming through the piece of paper that was given to her. “Thank you, sir.”

With her eyes falling on the schedule for Monday, she quickly found that she had Care of Magical Creatures first thing in the morning. She sighed, knowing that Riddle never gave her a tour of the outside campus, and threw her large book into her satchel, eating a couple pieces of fruit before leaving the Great Hall. As she left, the group of boys eyed each other. 

“I think we should have a bet,” said Cassius, shoving a piece of his fried egg into his mouth. “Whoever beds the new girl first gets five Galleons.” 

A boy with tan skin chuckled as he buttered the last of his bread. “You lot are ridiculous; there’s no way she’s going to fall for it.” 

“You’re just scared that you’ll lose, Lestrange.” Said Rosier.

“No, I could totally win against you idiots, but I have better things to do.” 

“Excuses, excuses.” Cassius laughed, waving a hand in the air. “What about the rest of you,” he asked, turning to the right to look at the other young men sitting at the table. “Do you want in on this glorious bet or are you too chicken to do so?” 

Abraxas Malfoy ran a hand over his pale face. “Absolutely not,” he sighed. “Father expects me to court and wed Torsia Adlard, remember? If I get caught with another girl, that blows any chances of me getting with Adlard.” 

Orion Black, who was sitting next to the platinum blond boy, hummed in agreement. “She doesn’t seem pure-blooded either,” he mumbled. “It would be devastating if one of you were to shag a Mudblood.” 

A chorus of acknowledgement rang throughout the table. “When you put it that way, I’ll pull out of the bet then.” Cassius hissed, running a hand through his ink hair. 

Miles Lestrange raised his eyebrows, putting down his goblet of pumpkin juice. “Oh? But you were the one who considered the bet in the first place.”

“Well that was before I thought about her blood status, Miles. If you think I'm still going through with it then you’re bloody crazy.” 

“I don’t care what she is, I’m going to get those five Galleons whether you like it or not.” Avery chimed in, earning a side eye from anyone who heard. 

“That’s just gross, Eloise,” Rosier whispered, sounding so disappointed and dejected, placing a hand on the strawberry blond’s shoulder. “Don’t do that to yourself, mate, five Galleons isn’t worth it.” 

“That insolent girl is not even worth a Knut.” Muttered the boy with ebony hair, situated in the middle of the posse. He closed his book looking upon the boys that stared back at him in anticipation, drinking up his words like it was their Ambrosia. “That idiot of a Headmaster asked me to give her a small tour of the school after Astronomy,” he explained. “She’s nothing but an obnoxious broad and she is not worth anything, especially to the likes of us.”

Tom stood up and walked off to his first class, leaving the rest of the boys to themselves.

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

From a distance, a tall boy trotted down the courtyard, making his way to the first class of the day. Running a hand through locs of wavy, blond hair, his eyes fell on the apparent color of cerulean that stuck out from the green of dying leaves. He sighed, sucking the side of his cheek in contemplation before rolling his eyes and making his way to the lost foreigner. 

He could not understand why Avery, Rosier, and Mulciber had such an interest in her—before Orion had pointed out her unknown blood status. It seemed to him that she was nothing but an airhead, especially after what Riddle had said back in the Great Hall. So much for being in Ravenclaw considering her race, he thought. 

“Did you not see the map of the courtyard in that book of yours?” He asked, his velvety voice of dark chocolate enveloping the girl’s entire being as it seeped into her ears and flowed down her spine. 

Abraxas Malfoy watched through the permanent scowl on his face as Saoirse turned around to see his aristocratic figure tower over her as his eyes of muted eucalyptus stared into her. “No, I didn’t get the time to,” she muttered. A scoff bubbled in his throat at her timidness. “Do you happen to have Care of Magical Creatures as your first class as well?” 

Sighing once again, now knowing he had his first class with this girl, the fifteen year old boy nodded. Abraxas reluctantly pulled his right hand off from its place on top of his satchel—while using his left hand to grasp the strap—to point off in the distance to the right. Saoirse’s gaze followed his deathly pale finger and there sat a rickety fence made of dark wood. “Class is held near the outskirts of the Dark Forest, taught by Professor Thelma. You’re welcome.” 

Deciding to not entertain the girl any further, Abraxas walked off, shifting his hands to the way they were prior; his right hand fell back to its snug position on top of his satchel as his left went back to his cloak pocket. The blond continued to walk the way, ignoring how the girl he left behind painfully tried to catch up with his long strides. When he made it to the fence, Abraxas opened the wooden barrier and did not care enough to leave it open, letting it close on its own before the Asian girl could catch up and slide through as the latch accidentally jumped up and locked the fence. 

“Good morning class! Today we will be continuing our lesson on the Unicorn,” a nasally and feminine voice rang in the ears of the students standing around near the fence. “Luckily, I was able to talk to an old friend of mine who’s a Magizoologist and convinced her to let us see Unicorns up close.” 

Elsie Thelma, professor of the Care of Magical Creatures class, was a small woman. So small, in fact, one could mistake her for a half-goblin. The round woman had fiery red hair flaring out of her tall witch’s hat with crooked frames barely balancing on her nose bridge. Her eyes held the curiosity of a thousand children, sparkling with the blue of the ocean crashing against the rocks. 

With the wave of her hand, Professor Thelma guided the crowd of children away from the rickety picket fence and deeper into the lush green forest, magic intertwined within the roots, leaves and meer fibers of every plant and fungi and budding fruit. 

Abraxas was never one for the outdoors, despite having the Quidditch position of chaser on the Slytherin team. Though, he thought, one was rarely on the ground when it came to Quidditch. He huffed, discreetly dragging the top of his tailored Oxford shoe against some rough bark to scrape off the discolored mud and wincing as he thought about the multitude of scratch marks damaging the leather. 

“Alright class, I advise you all to be very quiet and still,” Thelma instructed. “As any sort of fast movement or abrupt sounds can set them off. For this portion of the lesson we will be pairing up into groups of four, all while having two subunits within each. One unit will write down observations, preferably the boys, while the girls interact with the unicorn to identify its unique behaviors .” 

Professor Thelma’s voice rang in the blond boy’s ears, making him lift his head, walking away from the tree as he came up close to the rest of his peers. 

The short professor stood in front of the students, looking at each and every one of them carefully. After a few moments of silence, the lady hand-picked the students to group up and start their observations on their assigned Unicorns that stood proudly in the clearing ahead. 

“And with this group,” Thelma said softly. “You will have the new student—Saoirse. Malfoy, I trust that you inform the girl of our prior knowledge as she wasn’t present for the first portion of this lesson.” 

“Oh, there’s no need to, professor. I’ve read about Unicorns before,” a soft voice chimed in, alarming Abraxas as he whipped around to stare dubiously at the girl with jade eyes. “I wouldn’t want the group to fall behind from the rest.” 

“Brilliant then! Go on then, get to work, children.” Thelma smiled, shooing the group of 5 away to the last horse that fed on the grass by its lonesome. 

The group stood around awkwardly, unable to shake off a creeped out feeling as the new girl stared at them expectantly. One of them, a Griffyndor boy, coughed into his fist. “Erm, are you sure you know enough about Unicorns? I’m sure you’ve never seen a Unicorn before in your life.” 

Saoirse shrugged, smiling weirdly at the boy. “We’ll see.” 

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

Turns out, Saoirse was well informed. However, things turned south when the girl tried to walk up to the horned horse. The Unicorn turned tense, its ears flicking in her direction as it stared into her soul. With some encouragement from the others in the group, Saoirse tried to show an open palm, but that only aggravated the Unicorn more. Eventually, they settled to switch roles between Saoirse and Abraxas. 

“Why did you transfer to Hogwarts, especially when we’re in the middle of our first term?” A girl asked, the yellow in her robes catching in Saoirse’s eyes. 

“I was expelled,” she said, shaking off a salamander from her shoe. “The High Priestess was more than welcome to kick me out; she always disliked me.” 

“Expelled,” echoed the other Ravenclaw in the group. Saoirse never bothered asking for their names. “What did you do?” 

She held her tongue; she obviously couldn’t say she accidentally killed someone. She was starting to really like Hogwarts, so it would be sad to leave so soon. “I was experimenting,” Saoirse evaded. “An accident happened and it ruined my dorm. By ruining school property, along with other instances prior, the High Priestess was more than ready to expel me sooner or later.” 

Abraxas, who was standing brushing the hairs from the Unicorn’s eye, frowned. It didn’t really make sense for her to transfer all the way to Scotland, especially since Mahoutokoro was in the far east of Japan. If anything, the closest school she could have gone to was in Uganda, Uagadou. Of course, there were other minor institutions, but it wasn’t likely for the girl to have transferred to any of those as they were very selective and couldn’t afford to have a student with a bad transcript in their student body. 

Perhaps she had connections, he thought. Scotland is far from Japan or east Asia in general, and the only sensible reason for her to be here is that she knows someone in the area. 

“What is that over there?” Saoirse asked, pointing off to the distant trees. There was an open area, the grass and other vegetation stomped flat by whatever creatures lived in the forest. Looking over with disinterest, Abraxas saw a horse-like figure, its large leathery wings flexing as its odd snout sniffed the ground. 

“There’s nothing there.” Said the Hufflepuff girl, the other students in the group voicing their agreement. 

“No, really, there’s a horse there—or, well, it’s not really a horse; it’s—” 

“It’s a Thestral,” Abraxas said, gaining the attention of the group. “They carry the carriages for the upper years. Only people who have witnessed death can see them.” 

“A Thestral,” frowned the other Ravenclaw student. “We learned about those in Divination class; they’re really bad omens.” 

Now worried, the Hufflepuff girl and the Gryffindor student backed away. They suggested walking back to the fence, as class was almost over anyways. “Of course you would be able to see Thestrals, Malfoy,” muttered the Gryffindor. “I bet you and your family bond quite well over killing those who aren’t like you, huh?” 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” Abraxas protested, getting hot in the face as he strided up to the student in red. “You stupid, bloody Gryffindors love causing trouble; you must be a Mudblood if you’re that passionate about less people dying.” 

“That’s incredibly insensitive of you,” the Ravenclaw student huffed. “It shouldn’t matter if they weren’t pureblooded, they were still people.” Abraxas furrowed his brows, his upper lip lifting at the corner as he looked at the boy in disgust. To Saoirse, it was the most emotion she had seen from the boy with platinum blond hair. “You’re not even a good Ravenclaw, you know that? For being the house of intelligence, you’re bloody daft; Thestrals are anything but bad omens—quite curious creatures, actually.” 

“We shouldn’t be fighting, guys,” fretted the Hufflepuff. “Let’s get back to the rest of the class. We’re bothering the Unicorn.”

Abraxas bit his tongue, his nose flaring as he glared at the girl, who flinched in return. Running a hand through his hair, he kicked up the dirt, offending both boys as he walked off without another word. 

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

“And they were just complaining—it was so bloody annoying; I wish I could have hexed them.” 

“I would have as well. That Kowalski kid always wants to start something with you. Maybe he fancies you,” Joked Lestrange, earning a rough push on his shoulder by Abraxas. 

“Don’t joke about that, I would end my life if that were the case.” He shuddered. He couldn’t imagine a half-blood like Kowalski pining over him—though many people did. 

The two boys, along with the rest of the Slytherin posse, were waiting for their bi-weekly meeting to start. They sat around in a spacious room, chandelier dangling above them as they sat around at a round table. 

When they first started these meetings, they were skeptical. Their leader, Tom, was odd. Despite being a Slytherin, his surname wasn’t well known in the Wizarding community. Everyone knew everyone in Slytherin, mainly consisting of high-class pureblood families and being a generally tight-knit House. They didn’t really tolerate any other House, they were often outcasted or rejected—from Gryffindor, mainly; Hufflepuffs had some good ones who were willing to look past the snake house’s collective problems, and Ravenclaw had students with similar world views. 

They had every reason to dislike Muggleborns; Muggles had been killing and burning their ancestors for years, and it felt like a dishonor to those who died at the hands of evil. Unfortunately, over the years Muggleborns had been accepted, along with those with mixed blood, which was also a disgrace. The culture was slowly fading away—the holidays, beliefs, it was all being replaced by things that had no place in a magical institution. What even was Christmas? Who the Hell was Jesus Christ? 

The group was given a promise, though. The promise to bring back their culture, to avenge their ancestors as they rid the world of Muggleborns and Halfbloods alike. Tom was sure to get them there. Time and time again he had proved to them he was worthy of being in Slytherin, despite their initial doubts. Their loyalty was set in stone once his lineage was discovered—their first assignment as the Knights of Walpurgis. He was a wonderful leader, always uplifting them and reminding them of their goals, of the right they had to take back what was once theirs. He stirred their ambitions, bringing out what made them Slytherins. Salazar was sure to be proud of his only heir. 

“Apologies for the wait,” Tom said, closing the large door that phased away into the wall. “Black’s cousin stopped me in the middle of the common room.” 

“Please don’t remind me of her, my Lord,” Orion blushed, gritting his teeth as the other boys’ guffaws reverberated in the large room. “I really don’t know why she’s like that.” 

“No matter, let us start the meeting; we have much to discuss.”

Ever since the group learned of Tom’s well respected ancestor, their main objective was to find the Chamber of Secrets. Unfortunately for them, the only person who would be able to find the room at all was Tom; only Salazer Slytherin’s descendants could open the Chamber. 

“I wasn’t able to find anything in the Library, my Lord,” Patrick said, his leg bouncing against the tile. “It’s like the staff erased all traces of Salazar Slytherin from the castle.” 

Miles nodded in agreement. “I had the same trouble as well. My mother owled me back and she said she’s never heard of any writings or stories of the Chamber of Secrets from anyone she knows—and she knows many people.” 

Tom bit the inside of his cheek. It was to be expected that they would end up in a dead end, but it was still frustrating. He was so close to finding out who he was, what he was meant for. His ancestor had helped build this school from the ground up and the impudent staff they were to respect could not even hold any amount of that towards one of Hogwarts’ founders. He knew he was meant to get to the Chamber; Salazar wouldn’t have created a beast just for it to rot down there with no way of unearthing it. 

“This may be a stretch, but,” Abraxas chimed in, the hairs on the back of his head standing up on its ends as Tom snapped his eyes towards him. “That new girl, Saoirse, she might know something.” 

Cassius huffed in amusement. “I knew you were interested in her.” 

Eloise slammed a hand on the table, much to Tom’s irritation, gawking at his blond friend. “You talked to her,” he asked, leaning over the table. “Did you throw me into the conversation? Please, mate, it’s been so long since I’ve had—” 

“No one here cares about your stupid sexual escapades,” Abraxas glared. “And no, you didn’t cross my mind once. During first period, Saoirse said she transferred to Hogwarts because she was expelled. She didn’t go into detail, but considering the fact she also revealed she can see thestrals, I doubt she was expelled for anything stupid like a prank gone wrong. I reckon she killed someone.” 

Murmurs rang throughout the room. “And why would you suggest that,” mused Tom, the frown on his face more apparent than ever. “If anything, something probably happened when she was younger; you cannot just assume she killed someone because she can see thestrals.” 

“That’s what I thought at first, but the more I think about it, she had no clue what a Thestral was until today—like she’s never seen one before.” 

“So what, Hogwarts has stooped so low that they just allow anyone into the school—including murderers? You can’t be serious, ‘Brax. They would have known that looking at her transcript.” Louis stressed. 

Mulciber shrugged, swirling a finger around the rim of his goblet, presumably filled with some kind of alcohol. “‘Dunno, Rose, peacock guy might have a point,” he said, ignoring the offended look Abraxas gave him.

“I told you to stop calling me that.” 

“And I said I would stop when your white chickens finally die, Malfoy.”

Tom supposed the theory Abraxas had was sensible, but he doubted the girl knew anything about the four founders. She was reading Hogwarts: A History this morning, for Merlin’s sake. ‘However,’ he thought back to the night before, the moment when he showed Saoirse the door to Merrythought’s classroom. 

Perhaps Abraxas had a point. If no one could get into the Chamber, then it may have something to do with Dark Magic; anything was plausible at this point and quite frankly, no matter how much it irked him to admit, Tom was desperate. “How do you suggest we get the girl to reveal this information to us? While she did mention Dark Magic during our conversation last night, she was too ditzy to keep a consistent word with.” He clicked his tongue at the mere thought of her insistent ramblings. 

Eloise snapped his fingers. “Then we get her to join the Knights of Walpurgis, or at the very least into our friend group. It hits all of our problems quite well, doesn’t it? It’s all the more reason for me to get close and bed her,” he smirked. 

“You need to stop thinking with your crotch, Avery, but I agree.” Cassius smiled, stretching his legs on his chair. “I would love to have a pretty girl with us.” 

Louis frowned, the grip on his goblet tightening unconsciously. “You’d really want to have her in the group just because she’s a girl?” 

“No, I’d like to have her here because she’s a pretty girl, Rose. We all know there aren’t many pretty purebloods here by our standards, and if this Saoirse girl isn’t a pureblood then at least we’ll have a simple pretty face in our midst.” 

Louis sighed. “Oh, okay.” 

“What do we do with her after, once we get whatever information we need?” Miles asked, seeming to be the only person besides their Leader to have a functioning brain. 

“What if we kill her after?” Patrick suggested coolly, halting the side conversations. He turned to Tom, who was more than eager to hear something he was comfortable with. “My Lord, you mentioned a few meetings before that you were looking into those things; what were they called—Horcruxes? I found whatever I could in the Restricted Section, as I’m sure you have as well, and in order to make a Horcrux, you must provide a sacrifice; you must consciously and willingly take a life without remorse in order to blight your soul and split it.” 

“I am still not convinced she has the knowledge we need to get into the Chamber of Secrets,” Tom sighed. “But this might have to do for now. However, the moment I see anyone slacking off, or that this girl is not providing us useful information, I kill her. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436-1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest