the secrets we all keep
Act One
Astra Inclinant, Sed Non Obligant
2nd September, 1942
Everly woke up with flashes of images searing through her mind, dispelling all other thought. Fear pinned her to her bed, sending her violently shaking beneath the covers. It was all she could do to keep her hands clutched tightly to her chest, managing a few gasps for help as her awareness of the world fell away and all she was left with was a voice that was not her own, and the sight of a—
No, no, no. She didn't want to see it!
She could hear herself sobbing.
"Ever!" LilyAnn's voice called to her, and she felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her.
It took a moment, and eventually LilyAnn had to begin prying Everly's arms from her chest, just to allow her to breathe. Finally, fighting against whatever had taken hold of her, Everly opened her eyes and allowed air to fill her lungs.
"It's happened again," LilyAnn said, concern in her voice. She watched Everly struggle to sit up in bed, weariness in her brown-eyed gaze. "You certain you don't need to go to St. Mungo's?"
Everly nodded, not trusting her voice. She still felt afraid, and though the sunlight pouring in through an arched window, showcasing a perfect view of the outside scenery, was enough to take her further from it, she still couldn't shake that feeling. Confused and distraught, she wiped the tears that had slipped down her cheeks and stood from the bed with legs that nearly buckled.
Paper meowed inquiringly as he came to stand at her feet and with great effort, she focused her mind on getting him breakfast and herself dressed.
Something awful was going to happen, she just knew it.
.
.
Everly spent most of the morning helping the first year girls, answering questions about Hogwarts, and when breakfast ended, directing lost students to their classes after they'd received their schedules for the year. Escaping the craze, she was heading to the library, lucky enough that her Wednesday schedule had a free hour to allow the stargazing Astronomy classes in the evening.
"Miss Greengrass," Madam Cromwell, the librarian, said in greeting as Everly stole through the doors.
She nodded back, smiling, and set off to find a table where she could pour over history books dealing with information on the goblin wars. She had History of Magic to look forward to next, and with Professor Binns, an aging man who spoke every word in a droning tone that sent half the class napping and the other using glazed eyes to stare off into nothingness, she knew even she'd have difficulty following along to take accurate notes.
Everly spent the hour reading about Ragnuk the First, the accidental death of Nagnok, the imprisonment of Hodrod the Horny-Handed, and the decree of 1631, which had banned wand usage by any magical being with the exception of wizards and witches. By the time her watch chirped, "Time for class!", she'd written nineteen inches worth of notes and her hand was beginning to cramp. On the brightside, she seemed to be one of the few in class who already knew the details of what was being discussed.
Next was Transfigurations with Professor Dumbledore, a man with graying red hair and twinkling, precocious blue eyes. He was a brilliant man, and though she was shy to admit it out loud—her father had a certain distaste for the Head of Gryffindor—Professor Dumbledore was her favorite teacher at Hogwarts. Rather than lessons feeling like lessons, they felt more like games for the whole class to enjoy themselves, something engaging and productive. He did not let his students get too frustrated with failure, reminding them that in every attempt, they learned something still.
Not that it was her best subject—that was Potions—but it was her favorite class.
"We'll be learning Vanishing Spells this year," Professor Dumbledore said to the attentive students that stood in groups of four. "They are easier than Conjuring Spells, but nevertheless difficult. First, the incantation, repeat after me, evanesco."
"Evanesco," the class echoed.
"Where do Vanished objects go?" he asked, moving around the room to meet their gazes individually.
Everly's hand shot up and when his eyes landed on her, he had a knowing smile curling at his mouth.
"Yes, Miss Greengrass?"
"Into non-being, in other words, everything."
"Excellent!" Professor Dumbledore reached into his robe to pull out a sweet. He tossed it to her, a bit off the mark, and clapped with laughter when she levitated it hastily into her palm. It was Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in the crazyberry flavoring, wrapped in see-through blue. With an embarrassed look around the room, she decided to save it for later and pocketed the gum.
"We'll start with snails," he said, turning back to the class. "As invertebrates, the complexity will be low enough that most of you should grasp this much easier than if we were to try mammals, though we shall get to them in time."
After Transfigurations came Herbology with Professor Beery, who decided for the first day of class to go over a refresher of all they had already learned in the past four years. Everly presumed most teachers would be doing the same; O.W.L's necessitated an understanding from the very basics to the more complex magic, and fifth year was meant to be a year of reflection on what they'd already learned. Proof that they'd learned it.
Everly was already nervous thinking of the exams. If she couldn't get every O.W.L possible, she'd never be able to face herself in the mirror again. Surely, Everly Greengrass had become synonymous with 'know-it-all' and 'if you don't know, ask her', the student teacher that never gave up on her fellows. With her hair perfectly coiffed, makeup set perfectly on her skin, Everly liked to give the impression of perfection that she'd so admired in her mother.
Lunch came and went.
Care of Magical Creatures followed—they were to be studying bowtruckles—and then Arithmancy, the study of numbers in magic, said to allow for predictions of the future, another of her favorites.
The whole day was filled with the buzz of energized students fresh-faced from a summer out of school, noisy conversations in the hall about things they'd gotten up to while away, and most bizarrely, she kept seeing Tom Riddle.
When she closed her eyes, she saw him, and when traversing to other classes, she kept catching glimpses of his profile. Once, she'd nearly met his gaze but had darted into class quickly after, confused by the feeling of uneasiness his presence gave her.
Her mind kept drawing back to what happened that morning, what she'd nearly seen but had fought against. Troubled, she returned to her room and rather than catch up on her reading, she lay there on her bed and kept thinking, thinking about him, what Alphard had told her, and wondered what it was that kept drawing her back to thoughts about someone she didn't really find all that interesting.
It certainly wasn't because she had a sudden, burgeoning fancy for Riddle. In years past, she'd barely registered his existence and now, with what little information she had about him, she didn't understand how she could spend most of the day ruminating on just him. If he really was as awful as Alphard had said, was really a bully disguised under a prefect's badge, then she knew she'd have to do something about it—but that didn't mean she had to be thinking about him so much.
Everly gave up trying to close her eyes, kept seeing the outline of his face when she did, and instead headed to the common room, where curious first years might have questions for her.
"What's corporal punishment?" "What do I do if I get locked out of the common room and no one is there to give me the right answer!?" "Are the ghosts real ghosts?" "Why do the stairs sometimes move on their own?" "Are the people in the paintings real?"
On and on, it went, and by the time evening had approached and Astronomy classes were about to begin, Everly had a headache that kept her miserable.
It got worse.
Gryffindor and Slytherin were joining them for the lesson and it seemed the whole fifth year had arrived on top of the Astronomy Tower by the time the stars were beginning to surface. She felt like she was about to vomit when she saw Riddle striding over to join the others in his house, followed by familiar faces she could hardly match names with when she was struggling to stay upright.
"Isn't this great?" Alphard asked as he approached her, grinning. "I can't remember the last time we shared a class with Ravenclaw. They tend to try giving the idiots in Hufflepuff a leg up, being around the geniuses. That's how it works with the Slytherin and Gryffindor shared classes anyway." He gave a wink and grinned, adding, "Brave their souls may be, intelligence need not be required in their lot."
Despite everything, Everly laughed. "Al, you're being a prat."
"I'm being observant," he said, unfazed.
Shaking her head in bemusement, she pointed to their professor for the class who was attempting to quiet them and made room for Alphard to be beside her with his telescope.
This year, they were studying Jupiter and its moons.
"What reason do you think they have for bunching us all up this year?" Alphard asked and Everly took a moment to note something down before looking at him.
"I don't think they're letting the first years stay up till midnight for their Astronomy lessons, parents complaining could be the cause," she said. "And with all the studying we fifth years will be doing for the exams, I don't think they want to let us stay up that late either, unless they give us later mornings to compensate. But then, I presume, that'd just complicate the teacher's schedules even more."
"Well, I'm not complaining. Now, I'll be able to cheat off the smartest girl in our year," Alphard said brightly.
She snorted. "As if. You're not an idiot who needs his hand held."
"Glowing praise, coming from you."
"No chatting!" Professor McGillicuddy snapped.
"Bugger—how long do you think this arrangement will last?" Alphard whispered, looking on at the other fifteen year olds who found it much more interesting to be passing around snacks and laughing over the sound of the professor attempting to reign them in. It was mostly the Gryffindor students being the most raucous.
"Not long," she muttered, and oddly, felt eyes on her.
She turned to see Riddle's back a few meters away, the back of his head tipped to the side as if listening for something.
"Do you think my father would like to attend our wedding?" she asked Alphard.
"I should hope so!" he said, looking outraged. "He loves me, you know. Didn't even glare last time I came round at yours. I'd call that progress."
Everly giggled. "Your mother will be so pleased."
"With Walburga around, it's rather easy to seem the better daughter, of course she'd be happy." Amused, he looked at her with curiousness, looking on the verge of asking a question.
"Do you remember what Europa is covered with?" Everly asked abruptly, seeing Professor McGillicuddy approaching.
"Lice?"
"Ice," Professor McGillicuddy said with an indignant sniff before moving on to tell a Gryffindor to step back from the edge of the tower.
"Ice," Alphard mimicked childishly, glowering at their teacher's back. "No sense of humor," he muttered under his breath and shook his head.
"Were you going to ask something?"
"Oh, right. Do you think your father actually hates me, or is that just who he is?"
"A bit of both, maybe."
Alphard looked at her incredulously. "Both?"
"He's usually rather... you know. Has been ever since, well, you know. I'd say it's just him being overprotective but I don't think he considers you a threat, more of an annoyance after the falling out he had with your father."
"Oh, yeah, I forget that happened when we were five."
"I wish he didn't—I wish he didn't care so much about—I don't think it's right that he," Everly paused, scrambling for words but unable to find a phrase accurate enough.
"Believe in persecuting the sons for their father's mistakes?" Alphard offered.
"Yeah," she agreed quietly, "that."
"Well, it's not so bad actually. I get to reap the benefits of my father's successes too," he said with a smirk.
"True," she remarked in wry amusement.
"GET AWAY FROM THERE!" Professor McGillicuddy bellowed and with a jolt, Everly turned just in time to see a boy from Gryffindor walking the line of the tower's edge, arms out for balance. He was laughing, nearly doubling over when, accompanied by screams of horror, he fell off.
Those closest to him rushed over to catch him, but with a sinking feeling in her gut, Everly feared for the worst. She almost closed her eyes, hands sailing up to cover them.
"Wingardium leviosa!" a new voice edging into the familiar said, breaking the hysterics, and it with shocked gasps echoing one another, everyone watched the Gryffindor boy come floating back up by what looked to be his cloak. He was purple-faced by the time he landed, but otherwise fine, and when he managed to stand up alright, people began to cheer.
"Brilliant, Tom!"
"Quick wand work, there!"
"Oh, you stupid boy!" Professor McGillicuddy cut in, furious as he dragged the Gryffindor by the ear towards the door. "Out of my class, I will not tolerate it! It's corporal punishment, for you, Mister Pansley!"
The both of them disappeared and conversations erupted in full force in the absence of an authority figure, everyone turning to Tom to compliment him on his heroic act with sycophantic gazes. Everly had no idea what to think as she looked at him, a bit dumbfounded by that grin on his face that edged on being a gloating sneer.
"No, this arrangement won't be lasting long at all," Alphard commented beside her.
If only that had been the truth.
.
.
By the time they filed in for the dinner feast, and everyone had been seated, Everly attempted to look regal despite the bone-deep exhaustion she was feeling. Food sounded good to her, and she had promised herself she'd be eating more than she'd usually allow herself to. An extra slice of banoffee pie, or bakewell tart, something to raise her spirits.
Everly looked over to her brother, hoping to be cheered up and instead found herself knocking her knees against the underside of the table as she attempted to shoot up to a standing position. With an unuttered curse, she rubbed feeling back into her banged knees and looked again, just to be certain what she was seeing was real.
"That rat," she whispered softly, watching Erebus practically beam as he sat right next to Tom Riddle, talking with the brightest grin she'd seen on him in a long while. Alphard was not far off, looking absolutely miserable. Their gazes met and when she gave him a pointed glare, he shrugged helplessly.
"Your brother is an idiot," Alphard mouthed.
"You're an idiot," she mouthed back, feeling both ravenous and mutinous in equal spades.
Soon, after a short word from Professor Dippet, the food arrived and it was with maddened relish that Everly dug in. Well, inasmuch as she allowed herself to eat in such a way. In spite of everything, she'd been raised to only ever show the best of manners under any and all occasions and even catching glimpses of other eating with haste, she took her time and slowly chewed each bite.
"There was a recent sighting of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I hope you know," Aileua was saying with all certainty to Gilbert Brady. "They exist as surely as we do."
"Oh, all that stuff is just rubbish. Only the delusional believe in that tripe," Brady said with a sneer of disgust.
If she felt put off by this at all, Aileua didn't show it. Rather, she seemed perfectly calm and content.
"My brother is going to try and find it," she said.
"I don't see why you're calling it rubbish," Everly cut in, pointedly looking at Brady with caustic eyes.
"Why wouldn't I? There's not a single shred of proof that isn't reliant on some halfwit's first person account that has nothing but their word to trust. As if I'd believe the minds of their like, under every influence ever known to Wizardkind."
"Sounds like you're a believer who's been scorned," LilyAnn noted behind a giggle as she watched on.
"Some unbelievable creatures have got to exist," Everly said, at Aileua's eager nodding. "It's not as if we can be everywhere at once. Some places are so briefly touched, who's to say a rare beast or two isn't off gallivanting in the wilderness where only the rarest of souls come across?"
"You disappoint me, Greengrass," Brady said, shaking his head solemnly. "You're meant to be the brightest of our year."
"Not with that Tom Riddle boy around, no," LilyAnn mumbled, sneaking a glance over at the table.
Everly couldn't—she couldn't look over again. The last time had nearly made her honk.
"What do you mean?" Aileua asked, seeming perplexed.
"Well, he's brilliant, isn't he? The way he saved that git of a Gryffindor was spectacular! A real corker, if you ask me."
"He's a Slytherin," Brady hissed derisively.
"I prefer them," LilyAnn confessed. "They're a lot more fun, anyway. There's this girl, Cassie, sixth year, she's constantly on the piss, has a collection of firewhiskey you would not believe. Even keeps it hidden from the professors, though I don't know how she manages to pull off a feat like that. It's bloody brilliant."
Everly curled her lip in disgust but couldn't find the energy to call a spade a spade and express her distaste for such behavior.
"I like butterbeer a lot more than firewhiskey," Aileua said, taking a drink from her goblet of pumpkin juice.
"I like coffee," Brady said with a shy grin. "It's muggle produced, but quite addictive."
"I'll stick with tea," Everly murmured.
"Boring, boring, the whole lot of you. Now, Slytherin, that's where all the interesting ones are." LilyAnn grinned, and sighed dreamily looking over at their table. "Tom Riddle is the best catch of them all, wouldn't you say?"
"What happened to Alphard?" Everly asked, a bit insulted for him.
"I met the little gobshite tike Orion today," she said, presuming that was enough information. It indeed was. "No way would I want to be related in anyway to that."
"He's my husband to be."
LilyAnn looked ill. "My deepest condolences."
"I'm hoping to somehow pawn him off on Walburga, Alphard's sister. They seem made for each other in their horridness."
LilyAnn wrinkled her nose. "How closely related?"
"Second cousins."
"Bleeeh. Never can understand that whole pureblood mania, seems counterproductive."
"It is," Everly agreed. "But I have no room to judge. In my direct family line alone, I have my fair share of second cousin marriages, even first cousins. I also happen to be related to the Blacks, the Malfoys, and a smattering of other pureblooded families. Makes my marriage prospects rather bleak, doesn't it?"
"I wish we didn't have to think about marriage already. We're only fifteen," Aileua said, in a rare moment of commiseration and wilted spirits.
"Well, I'm not getting married," LilyAnn said happily. "I decided it this morning. I'll be getting a job instead. I want to work for the Daily Prophet."
I wish I could say the same, Everly thought sourly, jealous of the Muggle-born. It certainly wasn't for the first time.
"Might want to stick with Witch Weekly," Brady muttered, to the three glaring faces of the girls he'd chosen to sit with for dinner. After swallowing, he held up his hands to pacify them, looking uneasy. "Was joking."
"Prat," the three girls chorused before excluding him from their continued conversation.
Dinner ended soon after, and with belly full and mind focused more on discussions of recent news in the Prophet, it was only when laying in bed, petting her cat, that Everly's thoughts strayed back to what she had seen, and unfortunately, like an itch she couldn't scratch, Riddle began to occupy her miserable thoughts. She couldn't escape it.
He was making a ploy to win her brother over, was he? She'd blight him with a walloping of hexes to last weeks, if he tried to do anything low. Everly recalled the sycophantic gazes from earlier and with a churning stomach, tried not to point out how Erebus hadn't looked too far off from that.
Look after your brother, her father had told her. Well, she was nothing if not the ever dutiful daughter.
.
.
In the days that followed, her experience that had occurred on Wednesday morning tripled and by the time Friday came around, and she was to attend her first Divination class of the year, Everly was beginning to sorely suspect what it was that was happening.
She wasn't daft; she'd known something was amiss in her head for years, but never before had her little... issue been as violent as it had been of late. Still, Everly wasn't about to give in and let it ruin her life.
It was a well known suspicion that the mark of a seer was to invite the prospect of insanity in old age, it was known that even the mind of a witch or wizard could withstand an entire lifetime of visions of past, present, and future. That she had this, this, whatever it was, eating at her brain was enough to keep her from confirming her suspicions on the matter. It was too terrifying.
Then again, it could easily be something else. There were no seers to her knowledge in her family, and wouldn't it had surfaced long before turning fifteen? It was then she had to remind herself of growing up with the lapses in time she couldn't account for, the horrible, awful feeling that she'd known certain things were coming.
Proper seers were numbered as low as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, ergo she had no one to ask if this was normal or if she really did need to go to St. Mungos. In a fit of desperation, she turned to Unfogging the Future and The Dream Oracle, wondering if it would outlay the symptoms of being a seer.
Seers are a mysterious and rather curious strain of wizard and witches, Cassandra Vablatsky had written. Not much has gone into discovering the cause to their remarkable abilities, for a true seer is nigh impossible to find, and the frauds muddy the waters by posing as if they have any shred of understanding to the mystic abilities, an understanding only true seers would possess. Truly, this is an art where the lies and the truths are often indistinguishable, for fakes parade and feed the public assumptions that are simply untrue. And further, the cycle continues.
What I do know is that no seer's relationship to divination has ever been the same, there are no mirror copy traits found in all of them. Rather, the magic stands as an exception to the rule that all magic make sense, that all magic have logic and reason to explain it. My own experience is this; when I put open my inner eye to the workings greater than myself, I find I am distant to what I see, as if a play is unfolding before me. I have heard of other seers have much more vivid experiences, and some seers, never able to see the future for themselves, merely mindlessly recite prophesy and allow their clients to work the matter on their own, none the wiser of what they've said.
Bollocks. It was all bollocks.
In other words, it was useless in confirming her suspicions. Maddening to boot.
"You look peakish," LilyAnn said at dinner.
Not even having had Defense Against the Dark arts—her second favorite class—or Potions—her best subject—earlier that day had made anything better. Everly should have been worrying about the exams, but instead, her mind was on the possibility of her going insane in the future and the hyper awareness of Tom Riddle's existence gnawing at her when she was least suspecting.
"Professor Slughorn has asked me to attend his dinner party, Monday evening," Everly said, not acknowledging LilyAnn's comment.
"No fair!" LilyAnn groused enviously. "Tom Riddle should be there, as well as all the other interesting Slytherin boys. Professor Slughorn and his favorites," she muttered with a sneer. "Should have known you'd be picked, Miss Perfect Prefect."
Everly tried not to flinch at the mentioning of his name. "I think I might not go."
"I'll be there," Aileua said, clear-eyed and smiling.
"How did you get picked? He only takes on the Ministry kids and the especially talented," Brady said with a frown. He'd been sticking to them an awful lot for reasons unknown. The way he was looking at Aileua might've been one, but with the way he badgered her...
"She's quite good at Potions," Everly cut in.
"I'm pants at it," LilyAnn declared. "No more talk of that cursed subject, I will not stand for it."
"You're sitting," Aileua said, smiling serenely.
"Exactly."
"If you're going, I suppose I'll go," Everly said with a sigh. "Alphard might be there too, I believe."
"I like him," Aileua said.
"Why?" Brady asked, revolted.
"He's funny and once gave me a Chocolate Frog. It came with a Professor Dippet card, he's quite a stern man."
"Absurd," Brady muttered, glaring at his helping of a bakewell tart.
.
.
Monday came, and the whole affair was rather absurd.
Professor Slughorn was a man who would only get thicker with age, with a bald spot the size of a Galleon that would soon stretch, and cheerful, merry smile ready at hand for those he wished to get into the good graces of. Everly's father talked about them sometimes; the Slytherin's that, rather than do every ambitious thing to get to the top, they succeeded in impressing themselves into the good graces of those that could do more of the heavy lifting in social climbing.
Her father thought it was distasteful and, as Professor Slughorn broke into stories about the famous and rich people he'd once taught or had gone to school with, Everly found herself agreeing.
It seemed rather unbecoming, trying to impress children so that they may one day recall your name and raise your social standing. She didn't voice these thoughts out loud, however, most of her attention was placed on, surprise, Riddle.
He seemed to shine in the room, where all the others seemed to blur, less important. Professor Slughorn seemed to struggle giving other invited students the same deference he gave Riddle, and the smug look upon his face said that he was well aware of this.
Everly had to wonder, was it even true that he and his followers bullied and tormented the students that rejected him? She still hadn't seen the proof of it and she'd been watching him more than she'd ever watched anyone else before, seeing him in the halls and tracking him down in the library after classes were done for the day. She was sick of following him, of thinking about him; she wanted to believe she was wrong about him.
She trusted Alphard, of course, but perhaps it was a thing of the past. Perhaps, he truly was taking the prefect's duty seriously.
"Miss Greengrass, your father works for the Ministry, yes?" Professor Slughorn asked her just after she'd taken a drink from her goblet.
"He's the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, yes," she said in a bored tone, eyeing Riddle over the rim of her cup. He was looking at her, a smirk playing on the fringes of his mouth. Like he knew she'd been thinking of him a week into the school year.
"And you're brother, he's just started, hasn't he? Seems to be as bright as you in the matters of potion-making. Just like his sister, I told him. Miraculous results, better execution than most just following the recipe word for word, and much more advanced than even some seventh years. It's inspiring!"
"Everly here is the dedicated sort," Alphard said with pride. "She never gives anything but her very best."
"I should be taking notes from her then," Riddle said, his eyes shining. He lifted his cup in salute to her. She cooly raised a brow.
"It is rather interesting. Two of the very best students Hogwarts has seen in years, both the same age, and rather good looking," Aileua said, appearing thoughtful. "Have you considered each other?"
Professor Slughorn looked both delighted and scandalized. "Oh, Miss Lovegood, don't—"
"Years previous, I barely registered who he was," Everly murmured, feeling everyone's eyes dart to her.
"And now?" Riddle asked, that smug look upon his face.
"You aren't very interesting. Why do you suspect anything has changed?"
The look fell but it wasn't long before he was laughing, big guffaws that his follower's hesitantly echoed. "You're the one who's been watching me all last week," he said, dark eyes glimmering with mirth.
Her cheeks got hot.
When she said nothing, he carried on, without a look to the fascinated gazes around them, "Well, I quite fancy you, Miss Greengrass. You've been most intriguing since that day on the train."
Oh, Merlin, she could hear the lies. He looked as if he found the idea of liking her even more laughable than she did.
"You're not convinced?"
"I'm engaged. You should be quite ashamed to be saying such things so brazenly," she said dismissively, ignoring the heat in her cheeks.
"Oh, Orion won't care. He isn't keen on you anyway—sorry to break the news—but Miss Greengrass, inquiring minds want to know, what does one have to do to get into your good graces?"
"To get into her good graces, is to get into mine," Alphard said, and Professor Slughorn's eyes widened fractionally, leaning forward to catch all the details.
"I forget—what is your name?" Riddle asked. Several pairs of eyes bugged.
Everly snorted. "Is this a declaration of your feeble-mind?"
"You wound me," he said with a faux-wince. "I'm genuinely curious to know."
"A lie. You don't care about anything but what pertains to you."
"And why do you say that?"
"I was raised by someone like you."
Actual surprise flickered in his gaze.
"It's true. Her father is a nut," Alphard cut in.
Riddle sat back in his chair, paying him no mind. Rather, he seemed to be watching only her, sneaking glances over the brim of his goblet. She took a deep swallow of her pumpkin juice and said no more.
"Tom isn't a nut!" Fergus Rosier snapped.
"Did I stutter?" Alphard shot back.
Professor Slughorn chuckled with red-cheeked glee. "Settle, settle. There's no reason to raise a fuss."
The dinner carried on, eventually to a close, and—to her surprise—Riddle didn't say another word.
chapter two - end
Chapter title translates from Latin to 'the stars incline us, they do not bind us'
Some things to note; This fic will update every Saturday for the foreseeable future. I'm American, so spellings will be reflectant of that. I also don't know lots of British speak or slang but I'm Trying.
I'd be really super happy if you left a review!
(did y'all seeeeeee dumbledore in the teaser trailer for crimes of grindelwald? im fucking shook, he look damn good for a sixty-one year old. a damn silver fox is what he is daaamn he'd be my favorite teacher too ev)