CHAPTER 1
Disclaimer:I have no legal claim to the story of Harry Potter
please excuse my too long sentences and grammar/spelling mistakes
"I'm special, different, like you Tom" she murmured quietly, her voice traveling easily across colliding particles in the air-
"Have you ever been able to do things, witnessed odd things, things happening when you were angry, or wished them to, things you couldn't explain..."
He watched the dark eyes of the boy, noticing the now prescient glazed looked possessed to them, the young Riddle maybe moments away from bursting, the replayed trembling lips and a flush, rising up his neck as he casually watched, decidedly opening his mouth
"I can prove it (the boy's beforehand exclamation of not being mad ringing madly in his head)."
She withdrew the warm, -glancing curious- soft looking hand from under the transfigured materials of the dress, the room was kind of cold, she mused idly as she turned her head forcing an inedible , calm yet unblinking contact with the boys widened eyes . Keen, his face not yet quite smoldered of the previous high expression as she stretched her sleeved arm outwards, pointing it towards the old wardrobe as her hand uncurled, the faint familiar reminiscing ratter ling filling the previous silence of the room, he imagined the door opening soundlessly, the cardboard box gliding towards him , her faced relaxed in silent concentration, summoned in his mind, continuing to watch staring eyes. The colour of those eyes only seemed darker from the dim lit room enchanted by void like dilated pupils, noticing the now slight hesitant look to the boy face as he distractedly glanced towards the wardrobe, he was onlySurprised with eyes like those that no-one had noticed the hidden darkness within them.
She had been surprised when Dumbledore had so easily given into Tom Riddle's demands.
Summoning was perhaps one of the easiest things, especially at this distance - though of course, the first display of another wizards magic undoubtedly less flamboyant and impressive than setting a piece of old rickety furniture on fire-, when using wand less magic, yet still fairly impressive to some wizards she considered as the old cardboard box flew unsoundly towards him, the boy watchful as it settled gently on his lap, before as she reached for the lid turning slightly unnerved away.
"You haven't said anything" the higher voice spoke, almost in a sweet questioning tone to the boy, "i hope that means you don't mind me looking."
It was different, he didn't this time hold the almost emotionally consuming excitement and expectant curiosity as the unfamiliar fermium hands gently tipped, yet almost dizzily, the smaller mess of objects on the gray blankets, watching from the corner of his eye as riddle settled on the hard wooden chair without looking at them. ...I can make them hurt if I want to...
"it best not to allow magic to run away with you" the clipped voice continued
Bored she glanced at the everyday objects, long fingers listlessly fiddling with a red ribbon in their hands.
"Yes Ma'am" an expressionless voice evenly replied.
She grabbed the ribbon, "magic " she repeated out loud to herself, "y-e-s that's right."
"Now", intense emerald like irises caught the boys eyes, " I dare say this, a girls ribbon doesn't belong to you?"
Mud, of all the places to wake up in...
flashback
The virtually strapless dress, bottle green, dark and contrasting against the tempting pale skin of her collarbone, exposing pretty white arms and thin delicate shoulder
she fixed her posture into a causal stance, self-consciously unsure of how to carry herself
Her palm curling firmly around his hand , her spiky hair stiffened uncomfortable into clustered- as Hermione had put it- rather elegant curls , her tight grip loosened confused on his hand
His red head head crooked to the side , his lips jutted and stiff, with a flustered face
'Ron' she murmured , her eyes latched on contentedly to the appeasing yet unwelcome reminder in the distance
time didn't pass quicker than mere minutes ; blurs of colour weren't left behind, like a camera unable to completely capture a perfect shot, in the moment as her vision perceived it , sometimes helplessly conveyed by emotions, pictured it.
Cedric Dig gory, a handsome huffelpuff had a lot going for him