Chapter 1: The Plot
Speculating one's future and planning for it has never appealed to me as an idea. No one really has plans ; anyone who's actually planned anything for this life is simply choosing hasty steps across a rickety, winding path which they've already been pushed onto.
It sounds so erroneous, I know. But if you could jot down all your plans on scraps of paper and all the abrupt madness life has struck you with so far and pile them up against each other, you'll see for yourself which surpasses which. This suddenness to matters is one thing we wizards have always failed to see. It's one thing Lord Voldemort had failed to see, and so did the boy Tom Riddle before him. I believe this suddenness is what brought us together...
Social anxiety , also called social phobia, is an anxiety disorder in which a person has an excessive and unreasonable fear of social situations... But why here ? Why here in a crowded platform with your mum and sister ? Why here ?
Hogwarts Express greeted the station with its rumbling wheels and screechy hooting, leaving a mass of circulating grey smoke in the atmosphere as its engines shut down. Embracing Arfur The cat's cage, Elizabeth eyed her clumsy feet nervously as she proceeded towards the train alongside her sister Joelle and her mother. Arfur, his crazy green eyes glinting, seemed to warn her under the pressure of his wobbling cage not to drop him under any circumstances.
The racket of the jingling bars of the cage seemed to draw curious glances to the cat and Elizabeth. What is there to look at ? Just a cat, for God's sakes. "Mum," She mumbled, stumbling up to the witch whose blonde curls were concealed under a classical black pointy hat and a matching plain dress. Elizabeth painfully remembered how the Muggles wrapped their attention around the three of them several minutes ago at King's Cross all thanks to their mother's eerie - in Muggle standards- getup.
She thought that she was going to drop the cage and flee the station, the dreadful OWL year of awkwardness and stress awaiting her, and her mother's irksome perkiness. But she let the captious stares stab her like daggers as they passed the Muggles and got through the barrier of the concealed platform. "Yes, Dear," She said with a notable dose of cheerfulness in her tone after minutes of humming the same damned melody. "Will you carry Arfur, Mum ? He won't hold still." She explained forlornly, her heartbeat steadily rising.
"I will hold him," Joelle said , her blue eyes sparkling as she looked at Elizabeth. "Geez, Elizabeth, you didn't have to hug the cage ; you could've held it from its handle." Joelle remarked as she seized the cage out of her hand. Oh yeah, she thought nervously, feeling exceptionally dumb.
They were standing in a cluster of students elbowing and jostling their way into the entrance of the train. Not feeling keen enough to take part of the hustle, Elizabeth watched Joelle slowly vanish into the crowd, and she was stirred away by her mother for a "quick word" as she said.
"Darling, you know that Professor Merrythought - your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher - is a dear friend of mine ," she said, the momentarily glint in her round, dark eyes betraying her excitement. Can't be good. Elizabeth nodded and glanced sideways at the chatter of the throngs fading away into the train. "Yes," Elizabeth gulped.
"She told me that she was interested in growing student's talents, and that reminded me of your singing !" That thrill gleam in her eyes seemed brighter, and she was somewhat oblivious to the urgent hooting of Hogwarts Express, but that seemed to go unnoticed by the both of them. Elizabeth was helplessly swamped by sickening images of her chained on a dark stage and before her were her schoolmates and they were overpowered by hysterical laughter. They were mocking her, and she had stinging tears streaming down her cheeks, struggling to bring the lyrics to her tongue.
Her heart plunged once, twice, until her chest was beating with a wave of pain. "No!" She chocked, shaking her head.
"You're trying to help, but no !" And the shimmer in her mother's eyes was put out like the flame of a torch blown by the cold wind. " I can't sing ! I never could sing !" She sputtered and carried on speaking incoherent words. "Darling, you have such a lovely voice !" Her mother exclaimed in a desperate attempt to persuade her.
"ELIZABETH ! THE TRAIN IS ON THE MOVE !" Called out Joelle swinging at the entrance. And indeed, the wheels began turning and the engines were puffing almost at once. Sparing her mother a one last glance, Elizabeth raced alongside the exhilarating train, her blonde hair flying with the wind, and grabbed her sister's outstretched hand and was pulled aboard.
"What took you so long ?" She asked crossly. Looking over Joelle's shoulders at the students still bustling throughout the train, Elizabeth said simply," Never mind, have you found an empty compartment yet?"
Joelle's eyebrows rose in enraged amusement," You're right ! Maybe I should have left you unwarned at the platform and found myself somewhere to sit ! You know, it is only fair after having to load your luggage and carry your cat." She flipped her golden hair behind her and turned away from Elizabeth. What are you all mad about ? She thought of asking her, but then decided against It.
She isn't mad ; she's just acting all mighty. It's one of Joelle's many "phases" - as her mother liked to refer them.
Hours and hours passed by with Elizabeth keeping her eyes on nothing but the forests and hills of green skipping away out of her window as if it were some rolled film. Joelle, doing nothing but huffing and glaring at her sister for damning her with her antisocial nature, neglected Elizabeth's wishes at the end by bringing some of her friends over to their compartment. I will be fine as long as they leave me alone, she thought, fidgeting with her lacy pink skirt. "So," said the girl with the round tan face and big chocolate-brown eyes, whose name must've been Chloe... Clara... Clair, leaning over to Elizabeth. "You're Jo's sister ?"
"My twin, actually."
"Twin ?"
Elizabeth listened to their exchange with her grey eyes fixed upon the scenery of the hills.
"But," She trailed off, leaving her scorching gaze to rest upon Elizabeth's back.
But you're a lot prettier.
Springing out of her seat, Elizabeth said in an undertone something about needing to see someone or go somewhere, and scrambled out of the compartment.
This is so pointless, she thought observing her pace. Darling you have such a lovely voice, her mother's words rung in her ears. Maybe... Maybe I can sing. Her pace was aimless, unguided by her mind which was in a deep state of contemplation. Memories of the past of her singing merrily at a young age, a few years before, almost every day that summer, and that very morning all came back to her, and the reluctant realization finally came along with it too.
I can sing. I could always sing.
"The end of him shall be soon. I don't want no hustle about it." Said one of the blurred far off figures, his voice exceptionally rough. "Death's upon his shoulders, you mark my words. Everything's going according to plan. They will bring in the beast tomorrow morning, and while he's at securing its path, it will overpower attack shall be too quick and smooth for any of his superiors or peers to react." Replied the other, observing his companion pacing back and forth. The figures, they weren't at a distance. They were close to Elizabeth, or rather she was close to them. Their moving limps were visible, their oddly-shaped heads clear, but the details and their surroundings were vague. "Who is to die ?" She asked, her voice coarse and scratchy. Her eyes shifting between the two of them, they plotted on their murderous ordeal, as if Elizabeth had not uttered a word. "But I do detect the suspicious movement of the stars encompassing his life cycle," one of them proclaimed so calmly, observing a swirling mass of colored gases at his feet. "What's that supposed to mean ?" The other questioned with an evident note of impatience. "Their position cannot be properly delineated. I rarely see them flickering around in such notion. Usually, when I see them likewise, I know the most unpredictable is about to happen."
His companion cut him halfway through," I have been most patient with the inanity of your readings of those incomprehensible stars, but I will not have all this gibberish foul my work. It will go as planned ! Tomorrow, the boy dies ! Understood ?"
Tomorrow, the boy dies ! Understood ? Elizabeth woke with sweat trickling down her forehead and her chest heaving. The dormitory was buzzing with sounds of snore that was so similar to a drilling in its high-pitched cacophony. But on the brighter side, the girls were asleep, and that's how Elizabeth liked them best. She wormed herself out of the sheets, and tiptoed across the dorm after hastily putting on her black and scarlet Gryffindor robes, passing pairs of four posters of snoring grunting girls.
Scrambling into the nearest bathroom, Elizabeth wheeled around to meet her own reflection staring passively back at her. Her complexion was ghostly white and it foreshadowed an impending illness of some sort , but those pair of grey eyes seemed to glow, being coated by such paleness of skin. That blond hair of her's was sagging and could use the touch of a brush, but she couldn't think about that then.
Draw a deep breath... Breathe... Breathe... What do you think people are going to say about it all ? Breathe... Breathe... People always have something to say. Calm... Be very calm... Breathe... But can you handle it ? Stop... I can. Yes, I can handle it. Breathe... Elizabeth groped her pockets and felt relieved to feel her wand under her robes. Gazing up at the ceiling, she thought, maybe Professor Merrythought wouldn't like my voice anyway. W-why not try ? She paced out of the bathroom and down to the abandoned common room, which was set in a yellowish hue at that hour due to the golden rays of dawn infiltrating through the windows. It was a perfect timing. She knew, everyone knew how much of an early raiser Merrythought was. That woman liked to bustle around her study, go over assignments and other records perhaps, as awakened and as prepared as any DADA professor should be. Slipping out of the portrait of The Fat Lady, which, like any matter capable of thought dwelling no where beyond the premises of the castle, was asleep and snoring reposefully, Elizabeth crept across the corridors and down a staircase. The sound of her footsteps against the checkered tiles helplessly bounced on the walls and resounded throughout the hallway. But that didn't really matter she was drawing closer... closer... CRASH ! Turning around a corner to Professor Merrythought's office, her face collided with someone's chest and she lost balance, landing straight on her backside. "Ouch," she whimpered inaudibly. A long pale hand was stretched before her and she heard the most tranquil voice - somewhere along the lines of seductive - say,"Sorry about I ?" Once she had grasped his hand, he gently pulled her back to her feet, leaving her to be mesmerized by those cold yet handsome pair of black eyes. His name was slowly coming to her at last - Tom Riddle."May I ask what you're doing up so early ?"
"I was on my way to Professor Merrythought's office. There's something I need to talk to her about ." What are you doing here so early ?
Tom's eyes did not part her face, as if examining her facial expression for a sign of a possible lie, and it couldn't have been more the way his lips parted in a soft click, he seemed to have wanted to say something, tell her that Professor Merrythought was away perhaps, but then it was none other than her who rounded up on them. Her graying bun wobbling at the bottom of her head and her over-large spectacles askew, she was saying ,"Oh, well, I see you managed to catch her, Tom. Good morning, Elizabeth. I heard you speaking to Tom here and I'm pleased to see that you've finally decided to drop by. You are a bit early, but I am rather excited for you. Why not come to my office ?"
Her claw-like, pale hand clasped Elizabeth's shoulder, and she was helplessly stirred away. "Do get yourself some last-hour sleep, Tom. All this patrolling must have drained you," she called out over her shoulder as she continued to yank a petrified Elizabeth forward by the sleeve. "Thank you, Professor," he said and turned on his heels, Elizabeth listening to the thudding of his footsteps across the hallway. The door at the end of the corridor seemed to draw closely into view as the two of them paced towards it, and it struck Elizabeth how inevitable her fate was. No matter how her heart seemed to hurl itself against her ribs with every beat, no matter how difficult it felt like to breathe, Merrythought was still going to push her through that door and into her office. And you came here by choice, Elizabeth. It was the wish of none other than you to be here and sing. So sing. It happened too quickly. It happened in a disarray of thoughts. The door opened, they walked in, the door slammed shut behind them, Elizabeth took her seat on an armchair opposite the desk, trembling, and now she waited for Professor Merrythought to be seated, too. The room was wrapped in an unusual silence, too unusual for an office under the occupation of a DADA teacher. It was peculiarly spotless as well. "Your mother told me something very interesting," she stated, beaming. "Did she ?" Elizabeth repeated calmly, not meeting her teacher's gaze. "Yes, she told me you could sing," she said, standing up from her squeaky armchair, and pacing about the office. "Now, I am very excited about helping students grow their talents, and why not start with you ?" Good to be your lab rat, Professor. Darting towards Elizabeth and grasping the sides of the armchair, Professor Merrythought leaned in and said,"So sing, Elizabeth."
"What ?" She asked, glancing sideways in confusion. "Don't matter, anything." Merrythought said, walking back to her armchair now. And there the tension was rising in her chest once again, and she blurted mindlessly," I hate to be judged, Professor." Merrythought looked up in surprise at hearing these words and confirmed in a somewhat offended tone,"Not going to judge you, Dear. I will only evaluate a talent that you already posses. You do posses a talent of some sort ; everybody here does." Elizabeth closed her eyes, still frustrated, still upset, but the voice in her head seemed to tell her, command her to sing. And it so simply happened. She started off so quietly that it sounded as if she was humming, but then she raised her voice and the beautiful melody of the song began to shape up. Her mouth went dry of frustration and she decided to cut it out there. Looking up to a particularly pleased Professor Merrythought, she heard her say," Well ? That was beautiful ! You missed several notes, of course, but no worries. It can be helped."
She clapped her hands together and sighed,"So, everything seems to be coming along alright. I will assign you several appointments when you could come here and practice, and how knows ? Maybe someday you'll get to sing to the whole school." Elizabeth's face was drained of every color and her eyes betrayed no emotion, but her heart was still bouncing like a Bludger inside her chest, nevertheless. "But," Merrythought pronounced sharply,"that is not entirely up to me. I am not
in charge of you." She paused and Elizabeth nodded her acknowledgment . "Who is in charge of you, however, is the head of your house, Professor Dumbeldore. What needs to be done is very simple ; we need him to sign a note, confirming his approval." And so, she reached for the stack of parchment at the edge of her desk and torn out a slip. Handing it over to Elizabeth, she said," Do try to get him to sign it today. The sooner the better." Pocketing the note, Elizabeth bid the professor farewell and left, feeling remarkably unshaken.
Sunlight filtered through the window panels of the corridor which outlook the crystal clear lake and the petrified-looking oaks of the Forbidden Forest encompassing it. Elizabeth observed her hasty footsteps across the tiles, wondering how much of Transfiguration has gone by already. She could vaguely remember the other girls shaking her awake when she had overslept but then she'd huff in exasperation and turn over, wrapping the covers around her. A sickening swirling in her stomach made her feel like Professor Dumbeldore wouldn't be particularly pleased about her tardiness ... and he's supposed to sign the note. Classrooms droned on as she passed them, until she finally stopped dead in front of her's . Rapping the door, she patiently awaited for that,"Come in." and walked through the door. Dumbeldore's pale eyes were gazing expectantly at her, and the rest of the class ceased to acknowledge her entrance. "Miss Emerson, you're late," he stated Elizabeth licked her dry lips nervously and said," I realize, Sir, I'm sorry."
"Do take a seat," he commanded calmly and took to flipping through several parchments before him. Parading aimlessly throughout the classroom, she watched all the her classmates huddled in pairs, no where for her to settle. As she passed her sister's desk, Joelle hissed rather loudly," Hey, over there ! There's a spare seat over there !" Turning to where Joelle repeatedly pointed her chin, she saw at the back of the classroom, a beaten up wooden chair beside the prefect she had encountered earlier that morning.
"Uhm," she gulped nervously ,stepping before him. His dark hair was neatly combed to one side and it went along perfectly well with striking looks. He laggardly spun his head to her and said in a nonchalant fashion," I am sorry ?"
"Do you mind if sit here ?"
"Not at all," he voiced and returned to inspecting the bare wall opposite him.
The session proceeded with Professor Dumbeldore placing fully-grown emerald toads before every single one of them, leaving them with the task of transfiguring them into cups. Soon enough, Elizabeth begun to regret sitting beside Riddle, for with the swish of his wand and its gleaming tip, he transformed the dumbfounded frog into a dainty white cup with a gold lining, making the spell seem just so adaptable. On the other half of the desk, however, if Elizabeth wasn't zapping the flustered creature for mispronouncing the incantation, she was striking him sharply for not swaying her wand in the right motion. It wasn't long before Riddle took interest in the havoc she's caused when her frog skidded all over his books and almost toppled his ink bottle over. " I am so sorry," she apologized profusely as Riddle placed the struggling thing in her wide opened palms. "That's alright," he muttered, looking quite stern but not meeting her eyes. "Try swishing your wand half way through your incarnation. That should do," he explained as Elizabeth was about to go for a second, his tone the usual collected one but perhaps with a slight combination of nausea this time. "Alright, sure," she agreed, tucking blonde curls behind her ear her and steadying her wand.
Minutes flew by cursorily and the ringing bell had finally marked the end of Transfiguration. Elizabeth managed to transform her toad into a hopping, misshaped cup at last. It was not to be compared to Tom's royal design but it was definitely a satisfactory progression. The class was instantly filled with the scraping of chairs and chatter after the bell, and it wasn't long enough until it was her and Professor Dumbeldore alone in the room. "You're still here, Miss Emerson ?" Dumbeldore asked, his auburn head bowed as he organized assignments into his briefcase. Elizabeth was seated half-way across the classroom and was staring at Dumbeldore in a manner that suggested contemplation. She cleared her throat and said,"Yes, Professor, I was hoping I could... we could talk about something."
"And what's that supposed to be ?" He said, still not looking at her. Elizabeth held her breathe as she said," Well, Professor Merrythought, she... I..."
He was very much staring at her now as she helplessly groped for words. The gaze of those brilliant blues eyes burning through her. After what seemed like hours of chaotic confusion, she released the tie of her tongue and was about to speak, but just then, a very flustered Professor Slughorn burst through the door, his overlarge belly jingling. "Albus, you ought to head down to the green houses immediately," he gasped, wiping sweat away from his reddy forehead.
"What's the matter, Horace ?" Dumbeldore responded, his brows furrowed and completely neglecting the assignments on his desk. "They've brought in that exotic pitcher plant without a beforehand warning, and -blimey Albus!- I haven't seen anything quite like it. Must have been a hundred feet tall and you should see what it's done so far. We could use your help down there, Albus." And without a further due, Dumbeldore was partially out of the door when he wheeled around to Elizabeth and said," You may head to your next class, Miss Emerson, as you're already late."
Divination, who wants to go to Divination ? And why haven't I dropped that bloody class yet ? A buzzing silence preoccupied the gloomy Transfiguration room Elizabeth was in, and she remained seated, staring out of the window at the grassy green hills embracing the castle. She watched the numerous tall-grass wave and dance in the balmy breeze, causing a ripple-like motion about the hills. You should go down to the greenhouses too, you know. Elizabeth crossed her eyebrows and pondered, no, Headmaster Dippet might be there and he'd be livid to see me skipping class. Oh, he won't know, the voice resounded in her head as she continued to observe the scenery of Hogwarts's grounds. We'll hide around a corner and watch them, and by the time they're done, Divination would be long over and it will be lunch.
She was trying to reason with that bored mind of hers, but at the end of the day, she was bored and she was young. And so, Elizabeth was trotting down the sloping hillside on her way to the greenhouses. The breeze from earlier embraced her and caressed her cheeks and brushed her blonde mane. The sky was clear and a pale blue, not a single white cloud staining its portrait. Her black robes billowing behind her, she raised her hand before her face, a protection from the cruel, scorching glisten of the sun, and just then, the greenhouses rose from under the cover of the tall-grass, and Elizabeth could hear a vague voice shouting out instructions from within the walls. The door was slightly opened for Elizabeth to peek through, and she saw a mass of black robes, teachers and students alike, girdling what must've been the pitcher plant Professor Slughorn spoke of. She glimpsed its spiky tips waving around in indignation as they tried to restrain it.
"Look at it brawling, some monster !" One of the prefects grumbled aloud. "Sometimes I do wonder why they bring half this nonsense into the school to begin with ! It only seems bloody to me !" At last, it seemed as if they had succeeded in restraining it for its spiked branches drooped, wilting in fatigue, and it was the Headmaster whom spoke next, breaking the intense bubble of silence,"That shall do. Well done, everyone-"
That was until one of the branches stirred. What followed was a surreal blur of withdrawn movements and gasps. It stirred once again, and before anyone knew it, the branch had gone berserk and beset one of the prefects. It was Tom Riddle. He was quick to withdraw his wand, very stealthy, indeed, but the plant was quicker. It wrapped its bone-crushing branch around him and one of the spikes pierced his shoulder, stabbing him. And as if the scenery hadn't been grisly enough, blood was dripping down his shoulder and falling to the ground with a mesmerizing tick. Teachers finally seemed to grasp the situation as they'd begun to fire hexes at the roots of the pitcher plant as it dangerously waved Riddle through the air. His determination was extremely impressive for he steadily aimed a jinx despite his injury. That's when something awakened within Elizabeth, sending a ripple of adrenaline into her bloodstream. Breaking in and stumbling forward, she raised her wand and cried," Incendio !"
With a swishing wave that cut through the air, a great crimson flame was glimmering and flickering around the plant. As the branches recoiled away from the scorching heat, Tom fell with a heavy thud to the ground, overpowered and unconscious. Every living organism has its instincts, ranging from survival to countless others. Being under the influence of the survival instinct perhaps, the branches of the pitcher plant struck the air reaching out for something, until they dangerously leveled with Elizabeth. One of them whacked her so sharply across the face that she was wrapped in a blanket of darkness before the rippling pain consumed her.
