All of you guys who reviewed actually made me go "Oh my god, oh my god!" quite a few times, which might just have spooked out my parents... and myself, somewhere deep down in the bottom of my heart. But thank you! Really, I'm so happy this story is well received. I hope I can keep up my fast updates: Only two weeks left of high school and my final exams start. Though I'm sure we can work something out so I can still update quickly. And no... the reviews did not make me do a victory pose. No... NO! Don't look at me like that, I really didn't...
Okay, fine, I did. A small one.
Once more, thank you!
It's in our Blood
Chapter XII
The Entrance was bustling at the many third years and up, gathered for the year's first Hogsmeade trip. Elana could see them gather from inside the Great Hall, where she was eating her breakfast. A cold wind seeped in through the open doors and she pulled her school robes closer around her body; November had arrived all of a sudden, snowstorms in its wake and so the usually green grounds around Hogwarts had been covered in a faint, white blanket. "Won't they close the doors soon? It's freezing!" Newell complained next to the pureblood witch.
Elana eyed her from the corner of an eye, silently wondering when the other girl had arrived. "If you have to complain then complain about the first year that tried to sneak out," she responded, fidgeting with her fork as she looked towards the Slytherin boys. Avery was grumbling as always but it had been his own fault. "To be stupid enough to not think he would be caught." The wizard shot her a glare, but she merely raised an eyebrow.
A couple of weeks had passes since she had gotten into the fight in the hospital wing, yet the situation between Avery and the other purebloods had not eased up; they still ignored each other, making the Slytherin first years even more divided than before. There were the four Slytherin girls, where Elana had still not spoken to two of them; then there was Elana herself, who preferred to be left alone. "Shut up, Fowl." He growled.
She smiled at him politely, eyes scanning over the two boys. Riddle and Avery. Even though half the classes passed with Avery and Lestrange insulting each other, the half-blood never interfered or joined in. The witch watched him thoughtfully. He was just like her. "Careful, Avery, or I might accidently curse you." Elana warned him. Why she had woken up early, although there were no classes in the weekend, was beyond her comprehension. Suppressing a yawn, the witch came to her feet and exited the Great Hall; she might as well get something constructive out of the day now she was up.
Trying to force her way through the crowd, she was pushed back and forth by the much older students. A couple of Gryffindor boys intentionally tried to trip her, both let out cackles as Elana barely managed to dodge the outstretched foot below her own; she glared up at them through her black hair. "Watch out, little snake or you might get injured." One of them mocked and sneered. Keeping her head held high, she marched past them without responding; but then she suddenly found an arm around her shoulders and she was turned around once more.
Surprised, she glanced up at the older Slytherin. Her brother's eyes were hard, making her silently wonder how much he had seen. "Brother …?" Elana wished to pull away when they stopped at the Gryffindors, not wanting to get caught up in anything. But Elliot would of course not let it slip. The two red and gold clad students were sixth years, somewhat making them feel superior even though they were face to face with the Fowl heir. One, a big, muscular wizard, smirked widely as he eyed Elliot.
"Well, well! It seems the big snake is watching out for the little one. How adorable," they let out a loud, hearty laughter and quickly started to draw attention. Elana flinched slightly under her brother's arm, her prideful side slowly taking over; but then she noticed how the older Fowl merely kept up a polite smile. His cool and calm composure ticked off the other wizard, who let out an annoyed click of his tongue before crossing his arms across his broad chest.
She kept silent, but her hand dug down into the pocket for her wand; even though the two Gryffindors were five years older than her, she would not tolerate their mockery much longer. Yet she suddenly felt her right shoulder squeezed lightly, her brother clearly warning her not to act. "Now, you should not act as such a sour looser, Mr. Potter." Elliot responded calmly. "Just because you lost in the last Quidditch match, you should act as what is expected of your family."
Elana's brow furrowed slightly as she once more eyed the wizard. It was true; he resembled the young Tyler Potter, with the dark black hair, uncontrollably sticking up in all directions, and just as big a hate towards the Fowls. A smirk spread across her face. Interesting. "Shut up, Fowl!" Potter growled and took a step forward. She felt her fingers grip hard around her wand, but then her eyes flickered to the side at what approached.
"I hope you will apologize to my sister, Mr. Potter."
Elliot kept his smile in place, making the two siblings look quite alike; but the sixth year did not seem disheartened by their indifference and apathy. He in stead stepped forward so that only a few inches were between the two boys' faces, staring her brother straight in the eye. "You clearly hexed Jones so he didn't get the Snitch in time, filthy Slytherins. I'm glad your Seeker got crushed like he did. Bloody deserved it." The pang of annoyance in the pit of her stomach nearly made her punch the older boy, but before she had a chance to react, a voice cut through the tense silence.
"Easy now, boys." Slughorn appeared just as expected; the elderly professor had noticed something was wrong, finally intervening. Elana could easily see he preferred her brother and herself, the head of house quickly giving them a bright smile before looking towards the Gryffindor boy. "Potter, kicking up a fuss again I see?" Slughorn ignored the boy's protests and in stead shook his head in disappointment. "Your mother was one of my best students … And a Slytherin too," he sounded almost accusing, making Potter's mouth open and close in a loss of words.
"It is nothing, Sir." Her brother spoke up to draw attention away from the other boy. Slughorn turned his plump face towards the two Fowls, his expression changing drastically. The professor shooed away the Gryffindor, completely ignoring the appalled look in the other's eyes. "We merely had a minor disagreement that is all." Elana shifted her weight lightly back and forth on her feet, slightly rolling her shoulders as her brother finally released her.
The Head of House let out a chuckle. "No harm I guess," he suddenly trailed off in thought, tapping a chubby finger against his chin. A faint smell of bourbon emitted from his emerald green robes, his straw blonde hair curling slightly around his ears. There was a sparkle deep down in his eyes; Elana was all too familiar with it from classes whenever a student perked his attention in Potions. "Now that I have both of you here, I would enjoy invite you to a small, private Christmas Party on the 20th of December."
"We would happily join," her brother answered for both of them.
Tom watched the snow splash over an invisible barrier, quite close to his face but due to the shield spell he was untouched; he raised an eyebrow while slowly turning a page in the History of Magic textbook. A thick layer of snow covered the grounds and some of the younger students had ventured out to play. Magically enhanced snowballs flew back and forth in a fierce duel between Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, each house having built a minor fort in defence against the endless attacks.
The magically conjured flame hovered by his side, keeping him warm against the chilling wind and the coldness of the frozen air. His book bag was open next to him, a piece of folded paper crumbled halfway down and rustled lightly in the breeze. Christmas holiday … When he had heard the news of almost everyone returning home for Christmas celebrations, Tom felt somewhat mad; there was no way he would return to Wool's Orphanage unless he absolutely had to. He would not go back to that horrible place even if it would kill him.
So Tom had decided to spent his Christmas at Hogwarts and, much to his delight, none of the other Slytherin boys would join him. Two weeks without their constant nagging and petty arguments. So it would be only him; all alone in the first year dorms, in complete silence and with indefinite time at hand, to peacefully get work done. He needed it. But, before he was capable of enjoying the complete solitude, he had to get over the invitation from a certain professor.
He shielded his eyes as a sudden cool beam of sunlight reflected against the white snow, securing the emerald scarf around his neck as it was about to blow off. "What an odd place to read," a voice spoke up and he glanced up. The witch smiled politely at him, her hands clasped behind her back and she inclined forward slightly in curiosity. Her eyes skimmed the text of his book, trying to make out the subject. "Do you not feel cold?"
With a flicker of her wand, the pureblood cleared a spot from snow before taking a seat next to him against the castle wall. Fowl pulled her legs up until she was able to rest her chin against her knees, eyes overlooking the students tumbling around in play. "No," he answered, turning a page. She hummed lowly in response, poking the faint blue orb of flames with her wand. A sudden sound of rustling paper forced him to look at her once more; Fowl had, without permission, taken the Holiday admission papers from his bag. "What are you doing?" Tom asked unemotionally, yet wished to rip it from her hands.
"You plant to return home over the holiday?" She asked, apparently trying to start a conversation. Tom muttered a no in return, but kept his attention focused onto the book in his lap. A loud shriek echoed over the grounds as a couple of Hufflepuff boys had cornered a girl, showering her with snowballs until she buckled over in laughter. "How mature," the witch commented in a hollow tone. But then she leaned back against the wall for support, face turned towards the grey sky above. "How about the Slug Club, you will join?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. The what? It was a peculiar expression and he had never heard of the club before. Yet he had a feeling of who was involved. Horace Slughorn. And if they were talking about the same question, then he knew the answer: "Yes," it would be completely idiotic not to participate in the Christmas Party; first of all he would be able to deepen his relationship with the Potions Professor but perhaps meet several influential people, who might just be of use to him in the future. "And you?"
"Of course," Elana said. "Not like I have a choice …" Her last words barely left her lips, but Tom heard it quite clearly.
Tom closed the last button before using his wand to fix the tie. The dress robes resembled the Muggle version quite a lot, which had come to his attention when he pulled it out from his trunk; it was completely black except for the white shirt and emerald, silver tie secured around his neck. Avery shuffled around somewhere behind him, letting out curses once in a while just to draw attention to himself; there were only one day left before everyone would leave for Christmas holidays, and so the four Slytherin purebloods were still lingering around.
They had all been invited for the party which made the mood in the dorm rather intense. But, while Tom overlooked the floor for his newly polished shoes, he heard the door open and get slammed shut once more; the sound reverberated slightly in the room and stillness fell over the two last wizards. But Avery suddenly broke the tense silence: "Never thought they would leave." Tom summoned the shoes from below his bed, somewhat wondering how they got down there; quickly putting them on, he turned to look at the pureblood.
Avery's dress robes were exactly like his own, yet seemed more modern and less used. Tom suppressed a scowl: there was nothing he could do about it. His parents had left him no money and he had to make do with the little the school actually donated. "Ready?" The other nodded and they finally headed out. When they arrived down in the common room, the two first years were met with bustling voices and laughter; it seemed like Slughorn had invited quite a few from the Slytherin house.
Without pausing at the other formally dressed students, they instantly headed out the entrance into the chilly dungeon corridor; the party was held in one of the offices on the sixth floor, as Slughorn's own would be far too cramped compared to the guest list. And so they began climbing several flights of stairs, passing invited students from other houses; some seemed to look forward to it, while others had an air of impatience just as Tom. Because he – more than anything – just wanted to get it over with.
When they finally entered the highly illuminated office, the half-blood noticed how it was close to filled already. The sides were lined with tables, decorated with tiny, artificial Christmas trees, golden glitter and snow; most of the seats were occupied by elderly wizards and witches, indulged in conversation. Stars, hanging down from the ceiling, sparkled brightly from the lit candles as they hovered through the air. Most of the windows were hidden behind velvet drapes in red and green, but he spotted the silvery moon through a small crack.
He nodded courteously at a familiar professor, who brushed past them in a hurry. He barely recognized anyone, yet he repressed the urge to turn around and walk back and followed Avery further into the room. The sound of music reached his ears over the noise, but as he looked around he could not see where it came from; but a sudden shock drove through him as a hand suddenly rested on his shoulder. "There you are, Tom!" The merry voice of Horace Slughorn greeted him; the professor turned the young boy around so they came face to face. "And you brought Avery, excellent!"
"Merry Christmas, Sir." Tom greeted politely, forcing his beating heart to calm down and the shock to subdue. As he took in the features of the elderly professor, it was clear Slughorn had already gotten quite a few drinks; his cheeks were flushed and he wobbled back and forth slightly on his feet. But the black haired boy did his best not to recoil, even though the breath, brushing against him, was downright horrible. "It is amazing what you have done to this place," he commended.
"Ah, yes, yes, it was quite the work! The wine is even Elf-made and I had it imported from France. Oh yes …" The Head of House steered dangerously close towards the two first years, both having a slight fear he would suddenly tumble over and take them down with him. "But enough of that, Tom, I have someone you should meet!" With a hand still firmly secured on his shoulder, the wizard had no choice but to follow the tipsy professor through the crowd; people brushed past him from all sides, meeting up with old acquaintances and colleagues. "This is Oswald Beamish, an old friend of mine!"
Tom smiled politely at the old man, sitting somewhat by himself at a table where he was staring thoughtfully down into a yellow liquid. "Nice to meet you, Sir, I am Tom Riddle." Beamish shifted lightly, pushing a pair of glasses up to the brink of his nose; but then he watched the two Slytherins with a pair of striking blue eyes. Slughorn had seemed to wobble off once more, leaving the three alone together. The sudden introduction had forced the gears in Tom's brain to work overtime, trying to come up with a topic to talk about before it got emberrassing.
Oswald Beamish rang a bell, yet he could not remember from where. In what class had he heard it? In what book? Luckily Avery seemed to come to his rescue. For once the pureblood was of some use; unfortunately it did not seem like he held much love for the old man. "Weren't you the famous proponent of Goblin rights?" At his words, it suddenly dawned on Tom. He felt like hexing his Potions professor for introducing a pureblood to the guest; after several Goblin rebellions over the years, having been subdued by the influential wizarding families, the race was not quite popular among the purebloods.
The night had just gotten worse.
Tom had managed to escape the two before the argument had really started. Now he wandered aimlessly around between the crowd, wondering if he should get something to eat, find someone he recognized or just go back to the common room. He felt like he was absolutely wasting his time. Unfortunately, when he finally spotted someone familiar, he was not filled with a sense of positivity; no, it was the complete opposite.
The Fowls had decided to make an appearance.
With an air of superiority, the fifth year Slytherin divided the crowd without much trouble; his dark blue eyes scanning over the gathered, while his two closest friends followed behind, immersed in conversation. And there she was, walking furthest behind; her face held even less emotion compared to usual, much to his surprise. Tom approached carefully, not wishing to be spotted by any of them; his attention fixated on Elana's blank expression. She seemed bored already. The newly arrived were instantly flocked, rendering the boy speechless once more. The Fowl family really was coveted.
He grabbed a glass from a nearby plate, levitating past him in midair, not caring what it contained. Tom felt annoyed once more, just as he always did when they were around. The feeling of wanting to crush something, everything, was bigger than ever; he felt insignificant as he overlooked the gathered wizards and witches. Taking a sip of the drink, he felt it burn his throat. But he did not care, nothing mattered. Tom did not even bother to show surprise as a figure cut through the assembled; her dark, moss green dress went just past her ankles and floated around lightly as she moved. She corrected a strap over her left shoulder before briskly brushing a strand of black hair behind her ear.
Then Elana noticed him. Tom silently hoped she would not walk over, yet his prayers were not heard; her shoes clacked against the tile floor and she nodded shortly at him, before passing him in quick strides. The wizard turned his head slightly in wonder, glancing after the witch. He managed to see her vanish behind one of the drapes; the velvet curtain fluttered at the movement before falling still once more. His brow furrowed. What was she doing? His curiosity perked, Tom slowly, carefully, stepped closer and reached out a hand.
Pulling the curtain away, he saw the pureblood girl lean against the glass but her face was turned in his direction. She knew he would follow. "You better close it soon," the witch spoke, her voice soft. "Or have you forgotten my brother's warning?" Tom had not. He stepped into the secret niche, feeling the fabric brush against his arm as he let it drop; there was no explanation to his behaviour, yet he felt her company more worthy than any of the other guests'.
Elana turned her face towards the dark blue, almost black night on the other side of the window. There was not a single cloud in the sky; the stars sparkled, trying to match the silvery glow of the moon as it cascaded down onto the two first years. "Why are you hiding?" A smile appeared on her lips.
"Why do you care?"
"I do not," he responded with a faint scowl. Always the questions. "I just find your behaviour abnormal that is all." Tom rested against the brick wall, feeling the coldness of the stones seep through his dress robes. The air felt heavy in the small space between the window and the curtain, but he forced his breathing to stay calm and controlled. "Why are you hiding?" He repeated his earlier question, firmly, wanting to know the answer.
The smile on her lips reappeared. She took her time, slowly fidgeting with the front of her dress before folding her fingers in front of her lap. "Those kinds of people … I hate them." His almost black eyes narrowed slightly at her words, flickering towards the pureblood girl. "Pretentious and ingratiate. All they want is part of the fame. Who does not wish for their children to marry a Fowl? It is downright disgusting." Even though her words were filled with loathing, she managed to keep her voice calm and composed. Tom watched her in disbelief, yet at the same time he understood her feelings. "Sometimes I wish they would all vanish."
They were two of a kind.
Elana Fowl and Tom Riddle both hated the world and the people around them.