I had planned to do my English and Danish essays, but noooooooo. You people decided to give so much feedback I went "awhh, you guys!" and yeah, this is what came out of that! Darn you all, I blame you if I fail any of my subjects. It will be all your fault! ALL OF IT! With that ... Thank you all very much. To those who have submitted reviews anonymously I can't, due to certain obvious reasons, respond as personally as with others, but still thank you too!
Thank you all reviewers, warms my heart as usual. Keep it up, please!
Hope this chapter isn't too "boring" but I'm trying to involve the more important back-up characters, though fear not! Tom will be there soon, I promise.
It's in our Blood
Chapter XI
Tom took a bite of the cupcake, the sweetness instantly dulling his taste buds; the boy had never been one for sweet things but felt obligated to eat it. It was a show of consideration as Fowl had clearly noticed his absence from breakfast and dinner almost every day for the last week or so. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence," Avery drawled and sounded almost insulted while Tom took a seat in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. "And what on earth is it you are eating?" The pureblood sent the innocent pastry a sour look, as if it, too, offended him deeply.
"It was a gift," the black haired Slytherin responded.
With a loud thud, he placed the recommended book on the table and dust whirled up. Tom thoughtfully ran a finger over the old, dust-covered title. The boy next to him eyed it curiously, but then glanced back at his fellow classmate. "From who?" Avery was the only other Slytherin in the classroom at the time; the half-blood's brow furrowed lightly as he scanned the classroom. Several Gryffindors had already occupied half the chairs, chatting amongst each other while ignoring the two furthest back in the class. "It would not possible be … a girl, who gave it to you?"
"It was," he replied rather brusquely and then carefully opened the book to its first page; the pages were beyond primeval and felt like sandpaper between his fingers, almost as if it smouldered at his touch. He had searched half the library before stumbling over it, tucked away furthest in the back of the room; covered in dust, making it nearly invisible to the human eye. But he had found it. Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy was, just as Fowl had expected when she advised him to read it, a great help in his search.
He had checked almost every single Pureblood family name, where at least one male member was still alive. But this old, overly used book in front of him contained information of extinct families, and maybe, just maybe, he would stumble across that single word. Riddle. Tom felt rather discouraged by all of his fruitless work, but there was a slight spark of hope somewhere deep down in the pit of his stomach. "But what exactly are you doing with that?" Avery bobbed his head at the book with a question.
Tom's eyes flickered towards the pureblood, a minor headache of annoyance creeping up on him. The other Slytherin asked far too many questions. "Was merely trying to find something," he then ignored the following what?, and in stead turned to the next page. But then, as the other Slytherins appeared in the door, he suddenly slammed the book shut rather forcefully; slightly surprised at his own actions, his gaze followed the three students' approach. Quickly shuffling through his bag, he hid the heavy book; the back of his mind told him to not let them see it. To keep it a secret.
"Look who decided to leave the Library for once," Lestrange strode over with confident footsteps, casually dropping his book bag onto the marble floor to pull out a chair. He nodded in acknowledgment at Tom and shot Avery a killing stare; this did not escape the half-blood's attention and his mind wandered to why Avery had been alone in the classroom earlier and not with his usual group. "You look almost as sick as Mulciber." Lestrange joked with a laugh and shifted in his seat next to Tom.
"So very funny, Lestrange, you really do make me laugh." The pale Mulciber retorted but did nothing further. He, too, found a seat at the long table at the back of the class far away from the disliked Gryffindors. "Now shut up for once, before I hex you into oblivion, idiot."
Fighting her way through the crowd of students, a hand firmly gripping the strap of her bag, Elana strode hastily towards the classroom; she had been caught up in the parchment she had borrowed from Riddle in the Library. Her curiosity had gotten the better of her and she had taken it without permission.
But she wanted to know what he was up to; she was uncertain if it was to assist him further or what exactly had made her do what she did – at least she had given him a book title in return. Something for something. One thing was certain though: she was late. The pureblood witch opened the door in a hurry only to find everyone else already there, the professor included, staring back at her.
"You made it just in time, Miss Fowl." The professor greeted Elana from the front of class, in the middle of writing on the blackboard with her wand. "Please find a seat."
Elana's eyes overlooked the room for an empty chair. "Sorry," she mumbled, a scowl crossing her features at the only vacant seat. Rapidly stepping down the aisle of tables, she edged her way past a few Gryffindor boys; the annoying wizard from her earlier detention, Potter, smirked exultantly at her. With an unnoticeable movement of her shoulder, she made her book bag smack into the back of his head. Somewhat satisfied with the good deed of the day, she slipped down into a seat.
"As I said," Galatea Merrythought spoke hoarsely to the class; the professor cleared her throat. "We will today take a look at Hinkypunks." Elana heaved a sigh and sank slightly down into her chair. She knew those small, misty-blue creatures all too well, as they often appeared in the grounds around Fowl mansion. She had played around with them when she was younger, until her Housekeeper had discovered her in between the rose bushes. It had all resulted in a nasty scolding. "Anyone can explain why Hinkypunks are a threat to humans?"
Elana raised her hand lazily along with a few other students. Professor Merrythought indicated towards a Gryffindor girl; the brown haired witch stuttered lightly before speaking up hesitantly: "Uh- Hinkypunks lure people out into the bog with a light and … T–that's about it. Muggles refer to them as will-o'-the-wisp I think, or at least my parents do." The last part barely escaped her lips and ended up as a whisper. Elana leaned slightly forward over the table to get a look at the witch. Isabella.
"That is correct," the older witch smiled encouraging towards the girl, but at the same time her eyes flashed warningly towards the back of the class. Elana knew why: there had been no doubt one of the Slytherins had let a snide remark pass about Isabella's Muggle parents. "When handling these creatures the easiest is to, well, not follow their light. But it unfortunately has a tempting glow and will put you under a light spell; people with little to no resilience cannot escape them. If you do get lost in the bog or mist, then they will attack." Elana's eye scurried up: she had never really heard of the consequences that could have occurred from her playing around with the magical creatures. But then again, she would never fall for their trick. Learn something new every day, it seems.
"They feel secure enough in their natural habitat to attack both non-magical and magical people. So when the victim is lost in the mist, they can use their sharp teeth to rip and shred. But they are rather weak against defensive spells, so as long as one can withstand their opening attack they are easily pushed back. Today, we will work on a quite efficient Stunning Spell. The incantation is Stupefy." The witch quickly wrote the spell on the blackboard in italics; while she stood, back facing the class, she gave out instructions: "I have prepared pillows and mattresses, so please pair up two and two to practice it."
Elana craned her neck to look for a partner, but before she could do anything someone entered her field of vision. "So," Potter appeared in front of her, blocking off her escape with a wide grin, smugly tugging at the corner of his lips. "Why don't you and I spar?" The witch raised an eyebrow at the Gryffindor pureblood, though she in the end agreed.
"Sounds interesting, so sure, why not?" The two crossed the floor, weaving in and out between other pairs. She rummaged through her pocket and pulled out her wand; it felt comfortable in her hand and she felt rather confident. With a flick of her wand, she summoned a couple of pillows to spread across the hard floor. He would need them. Potter turned to watch her, the smirk still in place. From the corner of an eye, she watched students from her own house; Riddle had paired up with Avery, but the half-blood stared directly back at her. With a nod, she turned her attention back towards her practice dummy. "Ladies first."
He growled at her, but shot back: "So you're not a lady?"
"Well, it will probably make up a better excuse for you afterwards." Elana said calmly, her usual, polite smile creeping up. "It does not sound too good, does it? Being send to the Hospital Wing by a girl?" She knew how short a fuse Potter had and he instantly picked up on her taunts. Although he had begun their duel without warning, she had expected it. As he shouted 'Stupefy', she instantly deflected the spell with a flick of her own wand, making it bounce off on the wall behind her. "Too bad, so sad: try again."
He frowned but quickly followed his attack with another "Stupefy!". The bolt of red light shot towards her with increased speed, but she was once again too fast for him; they circled around each other, Elana's eyes were constantly glued to his every move, but at the same time she watched out for obstacles around her as the manoeuvred her way around. Other students were far too indulged in their own play to pay attention to their surroundings, and the pureblood witch did not wish to be defeated due to someone standing in her way. "Stupefy! Stupefy! Stupefy!"
She blocked every single spell with ease, making the Gryffindor boy more and more infuriated. But for Elana it was merely entertaining; she had participated in several duels that had actually been challenging. This was not one of them. "Try something else if it does not work, really. This is starting to become tedious," the witch called out. Her smile never faltered.
And so he did what she asked for. "Diffindo!" Her mouth widened slightly in surprise, as she had not expected for him to actually heed her advice. She quickly flipped her wand in the air to redirect the spell, but she barely managed to deflect it away from her own body; unfortunately her reaction had been only a split second too late. A shot of pain pierced through her left arm, forcing her to bite down hard into her lower lip to not yelp out.
He had used the Severing Charm on her. The boy opposite her looked at her, eyes completely opened in shock at what he had done, fixated on the gush in her arm. Elana, who had regained her posture, pressed her uninjured hand against the wound; she felt her fingers soak in a warm and sticky liquid, making her glance down. Blood. "Did you just …" Of course Elana had goaded him into doing it, but he had actually hurt her enough to bleed. Eyes flashing in anger, the pureblood wizard recoiled in alarm. In a fluent and somewhat impatient movement, she whipped her wand at him with the incantation: "Incarcerous!"
Instantly wrapping the Gryffindor up in thick and strong ropes from the tip of the wand, she watched him fight for balance; but it did not take long before the black haired boy lay face down on the floor, tied up from top to toe. "What exactly is going on here? What are you two doing?" Elana faced the professor, who had decided to finally join them. Merrythought's head snapped back and forth between the two first years, drawing the attention of everyone else in the class. But then she noticed the blood, slowly dripping down the first year's hand onto the ground below, where it gathered into a pool.
"Nothing we cannot handle, Professor." Elana answered politely. "We both mastered the Stunning Spell, so we decided to expand our harmless duel a little, just to cover some more spells in our curriculum." She felt her arm pulsate lightly, her head spinning at the loss of blood. Perhaps it would be a good idea if she went to the Hospital Wing soon; but her pride did not allow her to show that a small scratch would affect her – well, slightly severe scratch that is. Nor did she wish for the professor to get involved. This was a matter between her and Potter as she had been the one who started the fight.
"Clearly harmless." The woman answered, her voice laced with sarcasm. She easily undid the bonds binding the wizard on the floor; he stumbled back onto his feet, an apologetic look showed across his face as he stared at Elana. "Mr. Potter, why don't you walk Miss Fowl to the hospital wing? And meet me for detention this Saturday?"
"Yes, professor."
Elana briefly scanned over the crowd that had gathered around them, but then she trudged after the other out of the room. She flexed her fingers lightly, trying to assess the situation and the extent of her injuries. "I guess we both learned a valuable lesson today," she broke the tense silence; her eyes bore into the back of his neck as he stubbornly kept a distance between them. Elana admitted that she did feel slightly to blame for the other's punishment and felt bad for his dejected look.
"And what might that be?" He sneered.
"That even Gods can bleed," a wide grin spread across her face. Potter instantly froze in his tracks and turned; his face was contorted into something almost unreadable: Half in disbelief and half in amusement. But then he could not stop himself, a bubbling laughter filled the corridor as the Gryffindor wizard broke down; Elana raised an eyebrow at him. "That was not even funny," though she could not stop a smile from sneaking up on her.
But in the midst of their strange delight, an unusual feeling shot through her entire body and her eyes blackened out. Dots clouded her vision. Staggering at the sudden loss of balance, she tripped over and Potter barely managed to grab her. She felt her body press against his, his muscles strained as he tried to keep her up. "H–hey!" Her entire sleeve had been soaked in blood and crimson red drops trickled down her hand; she felt nauseous and dizzy. Anaemic. "Hang in there, I'll get you to the nurse." She struggled to focus, but her vision turned blurry.
"Please do not tell ... my brother." She whispered softly into his blazer.
Then she fainted.
Tom attentively noted how Avery stayed behind while the other Slytherin boys left. They always stuck together, almost inseparable no matter what time of the day, but now they did not even look at each other. With long strides, the wizard approached the last remaining classmate, eyes lingering for a short moment on the small puddle of blood on the floor. He was not worried Tom reprimanded himself, but a small flicker of anxiety surfaced lightly in the back of his mind. Fowl had helped him earlier and maybe he should repay the favour.
As he picked up his bag, it felt heavy in his arm, the large book about bloodlines weighing him down slightly along with the other books. "I almost feel like jinxing that Potter," Avery said out loud, and Tom was uncertain if it was directed to him or the pureblood was merely contemplating his thought out into the open. But then the wizard flinched unconsciously when he noticed the other first year; stumbling for words, he tried to explain himself as a minor blush swept across his cheeks and ears. "Slytherins should stick together, right? It is not that I care she is injured … But it was a Gryffindor attacking one from our house and all."
Tom responded with a low hm, not really certain how to answer and if he should at all. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, the two wizards left the classroom and entered the crowded corridor. Their last lesson for the day was Potions after a short break, but Tom and Avery headed directly to the dungeons; neither of them had anything else to do in the recess. "What is going on between you and Lestrange?" The questioned first year took a step backwards away from Tom, mouth parted almost like a goldfish as he tried to come up with an answer.
"What? Nothing! Why would you ask about something like that?" He tried defending himself yet failed rather miserably. But with that his eyes scurried over the witches and wizards around them, making sure no one was eavesdropping; then he heaved a long, almost painful, sigh. "It is Sebastian who stubbornly believes I am … doing something I shouldn't, but I am not. And he has made the others side with him." The chill of the dungeon seeped over them, finally coming to a halt in front of the locked entrance door; Avery turned to look at Tom in the dimly lit corridor. "At least you are on my side."
The black haired half-blood decided not to respond, especially as he had not really decided on where to stand in their petty argument – an argument he had no idea what was about. Truth be told, Tom really could not care any less than what he did. If the pureblood faction decided to split it would not have any effect on him; so there was no reason for him to get involved or take a stand. If anything, he cared more about the injured witch. The blood in his veins froze and he balled his hands into fists. He cared? His eyes turned cold. Tom Riddle did not care for some little girl, just because of a small amount of blood loss.
A silence fell over the two first years.
The Gryffindor boy arrived halfway through the Potions class and walked straight for the professor; everyone stared after him in curiosity of the Slytherin girl's condition. "I apologize for my tardiness, Professor Slughorn, but I was in the hospital wing with Miss Fowl." He quickly explained, somewhat out of breath. The reaction of the bulky potions teacher almost made Tom laugh, but he strained himself with a hand pressed against his mouth; it was clear Slughorn took the matter of an injury to one of his favourite students gravely.
But then Tom decided it was none of his business and, in stead of prying, he turned his attention back to the bubbling cauldron; the liquid had a brilliant, golden colour as it shimmered over the heat. It looked exactly as the Girding Potion described in Magical Draughts and Potions. It was perfect, just as it always was when Tom created something. "Well, go find your seat. Fielding can fill you in on the lesson you missed out on." His dark, almost black eyes trailed after the Gryffindor. The wizard's friends instantly gathered around him and listened intently to what he reported over the bubbling cauldron.
"Filthy," Avery spat affronted; he, too, was watching them over his own potion. "Using it as a topic of gossip, it is intolerable." Tom somewhat agreed, but not to the same degree; it was starting to become prominent exactly how much purebloods valued the pride of being part of Slytherin. If one student from another house talked bad about a single person, it would influence the rest of them. But then again, he glanced towards Avery from the corner of an eye, perhaps it was not only since Fowl was a part of the same house.
"Wish to pay Fowl a visit after class is over?"
He felt satisfied as Avery sputtered and flushed madly once more. It was certainly, without a doubt, not only because he stood up for a fellow Slytherin. Lestrange glared at them both from another table, then whispered in Mulciber's ear. Tom returned their gazes unwaveringly: he had not sided with Avery, but if they wished to come to a rash conclusion like that, then so be it.
Perhas it would even become interesting.
Elana gave the boy a blank, indifferent stare, but the feelings of her body was in turmoil. The most prominent emotion was anger. "What are you doing here?" The Hospital Wing was bathed in a faint, golden glow from the windows; the witch had recovered easily after an hour of sleep and a spoonful of medicine, which had tasted beyond horrible. Her mouth felt sour just thinking about it. Running a hand through her already ruffled hair, she shifted under the white bed sheets and leaned back against the pillow. "If you feel obliged to pay me a visit due to what happened, then please, do not."
He corrected his red and gold tie, while doing his best to avoid her gaze. His face had contorted into what looked like an apologetic puppy and he reallocated himself on the chair, slightly uncomfortable; Potter clearly felt remorse for his actions. Elana truthfully felt like punching him. "I just came to check up on you, since that's the least I can do … I did hit you with a spell."
"As you can see, I am perfectly fine," she lifted her healed arm and flexed her hand easily. There was no signs left of the previous injury except a thin, white scar that was healing up nicely. In a few hours it would be completely gone. "And it was I that made you attack me in the first place, hence I am equally to blame. But with that said I would almost suggest you leave soon, before I have recovered to once more be capable of hexing you." She then retorted, giving him a last glare before she turned her face towards the ceiling. "Idiot."
"What was that?"
"Do not start again."
"You started!"
Opening her mouth to argue back, she paused at the sound of footsteps. Her eyes narrowed down on the two first year wizards; what was Avery and Riddle doing in the Hospital Wing? "Just what I need," Elana muttered under her breath. She straightened up to greet them. "What brings you two here?" The black haired half-blood had an unusual expression spread across his features, compared to his typical, indifferent façade; they simultaneously heaved a sigh as the second Slytherin boy stared at Potter.
"What is he doing here?"
"He is my guest, Mr. Avery, so hush now." Elana ordered tiredly. She would not have been surprised if her brother had walked in just then, just so things could not get any worse; but luckily she had made sure neither Potter nor the school nurse had passed the news on to Elliot. "Rather, what about you? You are not here as a guest." Avery, who seemed frozen on his way to attack the Gryffindor, turned to look at her. The two purebloods stared each other down.
"Well, excuse me for worrying!" He tried defending himself, but, Elana noticed, as soon as he had said it Avery recoiled. He seemed to regret what he had said. Elana's eyebrow arched up, though she was well aware as to why. "I mean– Tom wanted to see you." His hand pointed towards the third Slytherin in the Hospital Wing, making the half-blood react just as she had. An eyebrow scurried up. "So I merely came along."
"I see," but then a faint smirk appeared across her lips. "How is Lestrange?" Elana should really learn her lesson soon; at the taunting remark about the other pureblood, Avery charged right at her to, most likely, perform unspeakable horrors on the witch; but Potter managed to react in time, tackling him halfway over the bed. She, in her surprise, suddenly found her arms flail around in the air as her support had vanished; the two struggling boys overtook the bed and forced her out. With a large crash, as she managed to drag a bed stand with her in the fall, Elana found herself on the floor, completely tangled up in the bed sheets.
The nurse barged out from her small, private room: fixing her hair with a hairpin, she waved her wand to separate the two and screeched something about "Not in here, you don't!". Elana's head popped up from the floor, having shaken of the white sheets, and with eyes flashing dangerously. "Peter Avery, you are dead!" All while the poor nurse tried to break apart the now three first years, Tom stood at the sideline with an eyebrow raised.
"Unbelievable," he mumbled softly at the scene.
Elana smoothed out her skirt and cleared her throat. After having been scolded by a heavily huffing woman, they all found themselves sitting down politely with a safe distance between each other. A strained tension hung in the air. Potter dabbed his lower lip with a cloth to soak up the blood, slowly oozing out of a minor rift; Avery merely grumbled with his arms crossed. "That, I take it, would be a momentary lapse of sanity."
"You should stop aggravating people that much."
"It was merely a question of where Lestrange was."
"Shut up," Avery hissed.
