The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition
[Season Nine] Game Day: Round Four / Keeper - Asylum
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)
Criminology and Forensic Studies: Criminal Profiling
Task #1: Victimology - Write about someone being a victim of something.
Word Count: 1,105
A large, ruinous crack. A suspicious yellow stain. The small, oddly uniform handwriting of a child, marring white chalk with black charcoal.
It was all very familiar, the pattern of the wall, because she had been here before. She had lived here for almost all of her life, since age five, after papa disappeared and strangers came to take mama.
This had been her home, where she met her best friend, where she and several other little girls with no mamas or papas chased each other around, pretending to be princesses with bedsheets tied around their waists. Twined flowers became their crowns, strips of ropes their necklaces, and rings, and they had been happy, despite the war, the death, and all that blood.
They had been happy...
Amyyyyy! Oh, Amyyyyy!
She sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? She just wanted to be alone!
That's not very nice, Amy. I thought we were friends?
They had been. Friends, that is. But friends didn't do what Tom Riddle had done to Amy Benson. Friends didn't hurt each other. And he had hurt her.
"Where are we going, Tom?" Little Amy whispered, wispy blonde hair tied in neat pigtails. Her left hand was clenched around her mama's locket, the only thing she had left of the woman who had given birth to her, and her right was placed in the crook of Dennis Bishop's arm, the boy who had quickly become her best friend upon their mutual arrival to the orphanage.
"You'll see," Tom Riddle smiled mysteriously, his blue eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"Ya best no' be thinkin' ah anythin' funny, Riddle," Dennis warned threateningly, a scowl curling his lips downward.
Riddle said nothing to the threat, only paused to send the two a funny smile.
He had always been odd in that way, almost like life itself didn't bother him. The only thing that he seemed to be offended by was that he'd gotten stuck with such a bad lot in his family life, but he never made any attempts to amend that, either. Mrs. Cole warned anyone who came to the orphanage about "that strange Riddle boy," and thus he never got adopted; thus, he stayed, and he continued to torment all around him.
Reaching a side entrance to the cave, the boy led them down, to where a murky, greenish lake was situated.
"Wha's this, then?" Dennis spat defiantly.
Riddle turned around, a malicious smirk on his face. Suddenly, Amy was no longer holding her best friend's hand. He was floating away from her, screaming shrilly, being dragged to the briny deep nearby.
Amy screamed, her arms almost involuntarily stretching themselves out to her friend. Riddle spun around, faced her, and raised a warning hand.
"Now, now, Amy. I know you don't want to do that," His blue eyes were two emotionless chips of ice. "You know he deserves to be punished, don't you? He did, after all, kill my closest friend."
Dennis continued to scream as Amy lowered her hands, still staring at him, horrified. It was true that her companion had taken to taunting Riddle, but surely he shouldn't die for it?
"Estella was in pain, Amy. You knew her, didn't you? Smooth green scales, she loved bathing in the sun. You met her, remember?"
Amy did remember. She remembered how Riddle talked to the snake, made all those hissy noises that shouldn't have made sense, but somehow did.
"Tom, please, let him go," she begged. "Please."
He ignored her.
For one horrifying moment, Dennis hovered over the water, struggling and screaming, his pupils blown with terror. Blubbering, he begged Tom for mercy. The Riddle boy didn't deign that worthy of a response. Instead, he grinned; smug, malicious, and cruel.
Dennis fell.
Amy screamed.
"Amy?"
A blonde head snapped up, blue eyes red and bloodshot.
It was Tom Riddle. Only, he was grown. Grown as she had; cheekbones more defined, jawline just a little bit sharper, but eyes as cold as ever. Cold as the time he had almost drowned Dennis.
But... it wasn't? It was Nurse Lisa, the woman who brought her lunch and helped her borrow new books from the town library. She wore a chequered navy dress, a white frock, and black mary janes. In her hands was a tray, containing a spoon, a dark brown bottle, and a thermometer.
"No," Amy whispered. "No, no, no!"
"Honey, they're just your bonbons. Just some bonbons," Nurse Lisa reassured her, setting the tray aside.
"No! No more medication!" The blonde screamed, throwing a vase at where the bottle was. It just barely missed it by a few inches.
"Amy, love, you adore your bonbons, don't you? Yes? Have some bonbons."
"Do you think I'm stupid!? Do you think I'm thick!? Go to Hell, Tom! I want Dennis!"
Her opponent's face flickered. Was it Nurse Lisa or was it Tom?
"Dennis is dead, Amy. You know that. You went to his funeral."
"You killed him!" Another object was thrown; this time, a book. "You monster! The Devil would forever damn your soul if you ever had any to begin with!"
"Amy, I'm not Tom. It's Nurse Lisa. We read books together, love. Do you remember how much you loved Wuthering Heights? How much you loved Emma? I brought you those books, remember?"
Amy's grip on her next to-be-thrown book slackened.
"Wuthering Heights..." she murmured.
Amy, Amy, Amy... you'll never be free of me, Amy.
"Yes, hun, Wuthering Heights," Nurse Lisa encouraged. "And Emma. All of the Brontë books."
Amy was a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.
Blue eyes, blonde hair, hopeful smile.
Ribbons in her hair, lockets around her neck.
A thriller, a dreamer, a lover.
Amy was a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb.
Bright, playful, energetic.
Mother, dead; father, dead; Dennis, dead; and Amy is still a little lamb.
Traumatized, fallen, alone... a little lamb.
A.N. Yeesh, this was hard to write. Round 4 was a tough one all around. I hope you liked the premise of this, though. I always did wonder what Tom Riddle did to Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop in the cave.
xo, Lily