It was so mundane. Such a simple thing really, so trivial… but isn't that how these things always start? With one event that at the time was another moment of nothingness… but that was all it took… just one mundane moment.
It had been but an ordinary night, the head boy had made his rounds and was heading to the Slytherin common room when he heard it, a small creek that had no place out at this time "Show yourself…"
His command fell on deaf ears as the silence of the shadows dare not fault, with a wisp of his wand light flared into the darkness, only to see a darkened cloak round the far corner. Quick on his feet to boy gave chase, only to discover the halls empty.
With a query eye he takes his leave, thinking it to be nothing but a mischievous student, but as he passes the wall he first encountered the sound a curiosity comes over him, something catching his eye. Running his hand over the callus stone, like so many in the castle he meets a spark. One single brick looked out of place to the wizard and with a quick charm he removes the stone, but it's not a stone, it's a hollow cover and lingering inside was something far unexpected, a red leather bound journal.
He replaces the stone and seals the journal within his robes.
Once he is safely settled into the confines of his personal head boy quarters. He sits looking at the leather bound book, he'd used several spells to try and open it and each had failed. Picking up the blood dipped book his lean fingers trace over the gold indented stamp of a tree centered in a shield with vine wrapped crossing swards. He recognized the crest, it was one of the families that sponsored the school, what? Did you really think this old place survived on its own?
"Merryweather…" as the word leaves his lips the bindings dismount, revealing the pages to him
Carefully opening the book he reads the first entry to catch his eye:
Diary,
Its near winter now, the cold is beginning to set into my bones once more. People at school smile and give friendly words, always smiling and laughing at something.
I find myself hating them, such stupid little people and their pointless existence, seeming so blissful to be nothing more than a weed on this earth. Oh, how I long to gauge them out by the roots, hear them plead and fade into the inevitable nothingness they are destined for.
Nevertheless I endure, endure the boredom of routine and repetition. Not that they notice. No one ever really notices the glare behind the smile I offer.
I see them as they will be, while they see as they are now…
On a lighter note I received word from father this day, he speaks of good things, of how he shines with my waiting return.
I find myself missing him also, a peculiar emotion, but true enough I suppose.
Until tomorrow…
Looking at the page a spike of curiosity brews within him, a pupil was keeping a secret journal and even a dormant nature. This intrigued the head boy and tomorrow he would discover more…
The next day he watched Merryweather, a girl he had once or twice been introduced with, never giving her much thought in passing, however he now examined her during potions. A Gryffindor, Valencia Merryweather, her hair a mist of perfected gold, sun kissed completion, eyes of blue danced silver and smile of virtue… he watched her for the entire day, laughing with her friends and swooning over the Quidditch players.
Hard to believe she held such darkness in her heart. Still he wanted a summit; she could be of use to him if handled correctly.
So that night he returned the journal to its place amidst the stones and stood not far from the Gryffindor common room from where she would emerge to. He waited, and waited… nothing for the hours he had wasted.
Irritation and anger fuelled him, had the girl noticed his inquiry. She was obviously far more observant than she presented herself to be.
On his way back to the common room a fleeing shadow caught his attention, thrusting his hand into the darkness he gripped an arm and pulled the transgressor into the fire light.
Instantly the gripped arm rips from his grasp, scowling opal green eyes peering up at him and a stern mien wash away in a blink as the blaze of the torches expose the student "it's by far after curfew"
At his stern words a wash comes over the girl before him, her dynamic shifts, a river of ebony locks falling to hide the marble flesh beneath, her tone discreet and shuttering "I know, I'm sorry"
Taking a look at her robe he bites "ten points from Ravenclaw… now return to your common room"
The girl flinches, a mist of anger flashing before she turns from him.
He sighs in annoyance; this evening had not at all gone to plan. So returning to his quarters he sleeps restlessly, as he always did. Determined to confront the Merryweather girl
He stood outside potions, waiting for Valencia, when she walked out he called to her, giving the girl a smile "Valencia Merryweather, yes?"
She seemed genuinely shocked but smiles "yes, and your Tom Riddle…"
They chitchatted for the walk to the next class, Tom smiling and being his charming self while she eyed him full of a familiar flirtation. He couldn't take his eyes from her, something didn't set right here.
Defense against the dark arts was the next lesson, however as they arrived Mrs. Merrythought stands smiling to the crowd of students, desks missing and a wardrobe in place "Today class we shall learn about boggart's. Can anyone tell me what a boggart is?"
Only a few hands raise, Tom's and Valencia's included, he smiles at this… because she would know "a creature that mirrors the worst fear of their assailant"
The professor calls on a few of the students, teaching them the Riddikulus charm. The fears of these students seemed nothing to the infamous Tom Riddle, and when the blonde standing next to him was called he watched in anticipation, only to see her frozen by fear at the sight of a banshee. She turned her into a doll with a smile; he was unimpressed to say the least.
He watched her cheer with her friends, where was the rage, the hate, the passion he had found in those smears of ink. With a bored sigh he watches as the next student takes their place before the wardrobe, the small, shy Ravenclaw he had encountered the night before.
The boggart transpired before her, a cloud of black smoke, the smoke stood, seeming unsure of the form to take before shifting into the a drenched, blood stained woman, the smoke substituting to a small girl, a mirror of the Ravenclaw, but so much younger, looking up to her older self with tears in her eyes.
The Ravenclaw stands not fear stricken but observant, mindful, this catches the head boy's eye.
The boggart seems to become bored and looks from her and to a boy on the left, molding into a giant fly trap… he stutters as the professor intervenes, locking the boggart safely away. She laughs, joined my many of the student's "well then, I think that enough for today…"
Tom just watches the black haired girl; she was un-wavered, holding a confidence and determination to her. He looked at her as her domineer instantly shifted as those of her house came to speak to her, the sweet, shy child resurfacing. He didn't know this girl, but that was impossible, he knew everyone, mostly people he had no interest in but still…
"Oh, Tom you didn't get a turn!" Valencia sighed to him
He smiles and shrugs "another time perhaps… excuse me"
Walking over to Malfoy, one of his growing followers he questions "my friend… tell me, who is that girl"
Looking over to the Ravenclaw the blonde shrugs "I don't know, but I'll find out…"
Tom waves the boy off, turning his attention back to the blonde Gryffindor.
Later that evening after dinner the ebony haired girl returns early to the common room, wilting down onto her bed she sighs heavily, a light purr echoing. A smile comes to the rose tinted lips of the girl, hand moving to comb through the snow, silver spotted fur of her companion "hello Jinx, kill anyone's rats today?"
The cat comes to lie on her side, protective black eyes watching all corners as she bets him, her satchel discarded on the floor with an elegant script engraving 'Constance Thistle Merryweather'