Disclaimer: Yeah, Harry Potter isn't mine. Stop rubbing salt in the wounds!
I'm back again! School's about to end, but the entire family is taking a vacation to the middle of nowhere, so I'm afraid this story won't be updated for a long while. However, I thought I might as well dish out another chapter and not leave you hanging off the cliff from the last chapter. Enjoy!
Breath caught in her throat, eyes wide, she spun around. A pair of concerned green eyes stared at her, and she relaxed – it was just Tom. "Are you alright?" he asked, stepping closer. She breathed in deeply, brushing her hair out of eyes, trying to calm her heartbeat down. "Yeah," she attempted a weak smile. "Just… err, exploring Hogwarts?" Her excuse came out as more of a question that a statement, and she winced at the sheer transparency of it. She needed to brush up on her lying skills.
Tom looked disbelieving and furrowed his brow. Morgana tried to ignore the frantic beating of her pulse at his close proximity, and she edged backwards. He tilted his head, annoyed. "What?" She blinked, clearing her head of her puzzling dream and ignoring the appealing curve of his lips and tiny crease marks under his eyes. "Nothing," she muttered. Morgana cursed her stupid hormones.
"Why are you here? I thought you said you were going…" She trailed off as she realized Tom had never specifically said where he was going. Tom's features turned suspicious at the sudden change of subject, and his voice was cold and harsh as he dutifully replied. "None of your business."
Morgana frowned. What was up with the sudden mood swings? And the strange behaviour Tom was exhibiting around her? He was very cold today, and secretive. Knowing not to delve too deep into the abyss of Tom's incredibly fast and dark thoughts (she would never be able to keep up, despite being almost as Slytherin as him), she simply nodded and turned away.
Skiving off Herbology, and waving off Fiona's worried frets, Morgana tried to push the strange encounter out of her mind. She joined the group of fifth year Ravenclaws to DADA class, and settled down for another day of boring classes. Merrythought had told the class to practice their Patronuses, and now Morgana could successfully cast it without a Cheering Charm, although it took considerable effort and time to master it.
To her surprise, Tom couldn't cast the Light spell. He had tried and tried, yet despite his best efforts only white, cloudy mist spluttered out of his yew wand. It was a sore subject for him. She sat down at the wooden desk and twirled her quill between her fingers, bored. Looking around, Morgana watched the green and silver students come into the room, searching for Tom. Abraxas, Cygnus, Hornby and Alphard all came in, snootily ignoring the Ravenclaws, as usual. But as the bell rang, Tom Riddle was nowhere to be seen.
All day, Tom continued to skive off classes. She could see the point – they weren't exactly learning anything new that he hadn't read about/she hadn't been taught by Grindelwald – but he had always had a strict work ethic. Tom would never ruin his perfect record unless something major came up. Morgana practically ran out the door to find him during break, but she never saw hide nor hair of Tom. He wasn't at Arithmancy or Ancient Runes, either. As the day passed by, Morgana grew more and more worried. No one had seen Tom since lunch.
Finally, just as Morgana was about to get up from her lonely dinner and run out of the Great Hall to find him, Tom sauntered through the doors and sat down at the Slytherin Table, as if nothing was wrong. To her immense dissatisfaction, he sat away from her, as if he couldn't be seen with her. Tom sat down with the rest of the pampered, prejudiced pureblood brats, talking politics and opinions and emitting a powerful aura, drawing nearby Slytherins in with his charisma – while totally ignoring Morgana. She narrowed her eyes at him angrily, willing for him to sit up and notice her. But apparently his precious reputation did not allow him to. Come on, Tom, she thought. Reputation, my foot.
After a dinner of fruitless hissing and glaring to try to attract Tom's attention, Morgana the rest of the Ravenclaws in sweeping out of the Great Hall. The crowd of students murmured and laughed as they moved through the cold stone corridors. She stopped for a while to try to talk to Tom, letting her brunette friend get ahead, but she failed to see him through the dense mass of bodies. Sighing in frustration, Morgana joined the flow again, cursing the slow Hufflepuff ahead of her. Then, unexpectedly, horrifyingly, someone up ahead screamed.
The blood froze in her veins. It was Fiona.
It was a terrifying scream, one that spoke of fear and horror and foreboding, and made the rest of the normally rowdy Hogwarts pupils freeze. The silence spread through the crowd like wildfire. The silence lasted for a couple of seconds, but it felt like hours to Morgana. What had happened? Was anyone hurt? The same train of thought was whirling around everyone else's minds now. The Gryffindors were wondering if anyone would break the silence, the Hufflepuffs were wondering if they could do anything to help, the Ravenclaws were reviewing all the defensive spells they had learnt, and the Slytherins were impassive and unemotional. The entire crowd hushed and no one dared to speak.
Morgana had never heard silence quite this loud.
Abruptly, the noiseless illusion broke as Robert Boot shoved his way through the crowd. He reached his shell-shocked sister and grabbed her. "What is it? Fiona?" he asked urgently, very much unlike the quiet, shy boy Morgana had met on her first day. It seemed that sudden, horrifying events could bring out the courage in even the most timid of people.
Edging her way to the front of the mass of students, Morgana inhaled a sharp intake of breath. Fiona was standing, trembling in front of a stone wall, her brother by her side. In front of her, painted in painstakingly neat writing, were thirteen words. They cut into Morgana's gut and twisted it like a sharp knife. Funny how just words written on a wall could terrify her so greatly.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
The words gleamed in the bright torchlight, the glistening red liquid dripping down the stone wall, looking sickeningly like blood. Worst of all, more horrifying than the fateful words, more horrifying than the thick red blood painted casually on Hogwarts' ancient walls, was the frozen shell of Septimus Weasley.
Septimus Weasley was a tall, gangly red-haired boy and numerous freckles splashed all over his face. He was a Gryffindor, naturally, and was quite famous in the House for supporting Muggles. Septimus was always found fiddling with Muggle contraptions, and he loved his new sunglasses so much that the Ravenclaws nicknamed him Red Sunglasses. However, due to his strange obsession with Muggles, he was labeled a blood traitor, and he was proud of it.
Now, the Weasley boy was seemingly frozen in time, his long arms stretched in front of him. To Morgana's slight relief, his overly large sunglasses were perched on his nose, covering his eyes, so that she wouldn't have to see the fear and shock in those orbs. Yes, she might like to see others suffer or beg before her, and she might enjoy inflicting horror or pain upon others a little more than she should, but this was just sick. Whoever did this was clearly someone not to cross.
An alarmed Professor Slughorn stumbled onto the scene. "Oh – my word – oh dear Merlin…" The Potions Professor heaved, large friendly face suddenly contorted into an expression of panic. His small eyes scanned the crimson writing scrawled onto the wall, and he breathed in deeply at the sight of Septimus Weasley. "Albus! Galatea! Merlin, who did this?" The Transfiguration Professor and the DADA teacher came running, footsteps echoing down the corridor, alerted by Slughorn's cries. Dumbledore's auburn beard came into sight. "Yes, Horace? Galatea and I were just coming round the bend…"
Dumbledore's voice trailed off as he saw the frozen Gryffindor, and his normally kindly tone vanished. Reading the writing on the wall with a deceptively calm face, he turned around and issued commands. "Galatea," he said firmly, rousing the shocked DADA professor into action. "The poor girl, if you will?" "Of course," murmured Professor Merrythought, gently steering Fiona to the hospital wing. Morgana shuddered at the ashen face and wide brown eyes as they passed her by. "Take care," she mouthed to Robert Boot, who nodded. It was strange, how she felt obliged to come to Fiona's aid, when the girl became more than just an accomplice.
"Back to your dormitories, everyone. Prefects, I expect you keep the students calm. Professors, stay here," the auburn bearded man said. Gone was the kind, eccentric Professor that taught first years to transfigure matchsticks into needles. Instead, a strong, weary yet powerful warrior replaced him. Morgana shivered as she remembered that this was the man who scared Gellert Grindelwald. Nodding mutely with the rest of the students, she followed the shaken Prefects to her dormitory.
As she walked through the sudden intimidating dark halls, Morgana snuck a peek at Tom. Unsurprised, she saw that he was as calm as ever, a steady rock in the stormy sea. But his expression was slightly off, and Morgana saw Dumbledore stare suspiciously at Tom again. Tom looked calm, with just the right amount of shock, surprise and horror in his face. Just like he always did. Nothing strange about that.
But Morgana knew him. She had known him since she was a child in a cold orphanage, and she knew how to interpret his miniscule facial expressions. He had gotten better at lying and disguising his emotions though, and Morgana was frustrated to see that she couldn't read him like she used to. However, a small twitch of the mouth revealed that Tom wanted to smile.
Was he behind this?
Nonsense, her mind told her. He knows you're a Muggleborn. He wouldn't hurt you. Morgana bit her lip. Tom was probably just smiling because of Dumbledore's aggrieved expression. He hated the Transfiguration Professor with a passion. She tried to wave away the doubt, but a few strands still lingered.
She felt a red flush creep up her neck as Tom turned to her, noticing her stare. He raised an eyebrow and Morgana forced down a furious blush, cursing her emotions. She could see why he preferred cold, precise work to confusing sentiments. Emotions to intellect. It made life far easier.
He glanced at her but avoided eye contact, before striding away, back turned towards her. Tom led the adoring Slytherins to their common room, and Morgana had no choice but to turn away and follow her own group. She couldn't help but glance back at the scene, at the worried staff and the frozen boy.
She vowed to herself that she would get to the bottom of this. For both her own safety and the school's.
Drama up ahead! Yeah, short, but better than nothing. As always, read and review! I'm hoping for more than twenty reviews when I check next month, because that's when I come back to the world of wi-fi after holidays. So please, just type something in that box below.
Thanks :)