House: Slytherin
Category: Short
Prompt: [Speech] "I've been here before." / "Stop lying."
Word Count: 1200
A/N: Thank you Emma for helping me come up with names ;)
oO0Oo
"Hullo, Tom."
Slowly lifting his gaze from his camouflaged copy of Secrets of the Darkest Art, Tom met the eyes of the girl who dared interrupt him. After seven long years spent building his reputation, few dared bother him; however, he quickly recognised this girl as the American transfer student. Her red-orange hair was quite distinctive.
"Miss Wilkins," he said, closing his book with a snap and placing it beside the marmalade. He could feel Dumbledore's eyes on him, watching him from the High Table. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, I'd quite like a place to sit," she replied, her eyes darting towards Abraxas Malfoy, who sat besides Tom. "It's quite crowded, and I do have to eat before class. If my stomach rumbles during lessons, I doubt the professor would be pleased." She chuckled, her entire face lighting up and inviting everyone in the general vicinity to laugh along; however, the sight unsettled Tom. It seemed strangely familiar… somehow, he knew this girl had spent hours in the mirror practicing her smile.
"Abraxas, would you make room for the Miss Wilkins?"
"Of-of course, Tom." Abraxas hurriedly shuffled aside, clearing a space for the girl.
Jenny smiled. "Thank you." She sat down primly, glancing down towards Secrets of the Darkest Art as she did so. "And Tom, please call me Jenny. After all, it cannot be simple coincidence that you are reading one of my favorite books. We have very similar… literary interests."
His eyes flickered down to his tome, checking the illusion he'd woven over its cover. It was still there. "You enjoy The Heart of Darkness?" he asked.
"Oh, I absolutely love it," she replied, reaching over to pluck the book from him. At her touch, the illusion rippled, and when she looked up at him, she wore a self-satisfied smirk. "I believe there is much we could learn from The Heart of Darkness; it is a pity the Hogwarts curriculum is so… limited."
Tom paused, taking a second look at Jenny Wilkins. Brown, intelligent eyes sparkled at him. "An interesting stance for the American transfer student," he remarked. "May I escort you to your first class, Miss Wilkins?"
"Of course," she replied, taking a croissant and wrapping it in a napkin before sliding it into her book bag. "I believe Slughorn's Advanced Potions class begins in ten minutes?"
"It does," Tom replied. "You seem quite familiar with him already."
"Well, he answered all of my questions." She shrugged. "He also suggested I speak with you. Said you were a 'model student'." She placed special emphasis on the last words, her lips curling as though she were sharing a private joke.
Tom supposed it was rather laughable that Slughorn still thought him a model student, especially after he had asked him about Horcruxes, but Jenny Wilkins shouldn't know that. The unease that had been prickling along the back of his neck increased ten-fold. Keeping his face politely interested, he held out his arm.
She took it, her bearing as regal as a queen's. Then, like a matched set, they made their way to the dungeons.
Along the way, Tom murmured, "Miss Wilkins, although I would normally hesitate to broach such a subject, I feel I ought to warn you. Professor Slughorn's classes are often very long." He gestured to the girls' lavatory.
"Oh, thank you," she replied, a faint blush rising to her cheeks as she let go of his arm and entered the bathroom.
Tom watched the door swing shut behind her, then the polite smile which graced his features disappeared like smoke in the wind. After slowly counting to ten, he cast strong wards over the area and followed Jenny Wilkins into Moaning Myrtle's lavatory. Her behaviour at breakfast had been… worrisome.
Yet when he entered, he was met with the sight of Jenny Wilkins standing between him and the magical sink, her wand held in a sure, confident grip, her brown eyes never leaving his. "Are you planning to open the Chamber?" she said, her voice calm and quiet in the empty room. "This is the entrance."
Tom stiffened. "You don't know that."
"But I do," she said in reply, shaking her head slightly, as though in mock-disappointment. "Really, Tom. I've been here before."
But she was an American transfer student. "Stop lying," he ordered. "You won't fool me. Legilimens!" He hurled himself into her mind, clearly catching her by surprise. For a split second, images flashed through his mind: a motley group in the ravaged countryside, a desperate girl with red-orange hair and brown eyes, quick snippets of conversation: "I know him best— Let me— No horcruxes— I can succeed— I need to do this—" Everyone's eyes were on her, on him, and then she took the Time-Turner with trembling hands and slowly began to turn back time… a strange sensation began to envelop her, and it seemed almost as if her body was not quite her own… and then Tom was evicted from her mind with a strength he had never encountered before.
"Wha-what was that?" he spat, wiping away the blood which dribbled down his chin. In the intense slew of emotions and images, he must have bit his tongue. "I've never felt anything so strong— you—" Then he realized that she, too, was reeling from the force of his Legilimens. This was his chance. Open, he hissed. The sink disappeared in a whirl of magic and the castle groaned as it rearranged itself. Come.
He heard the faintest scrape of scales on stone as the Basilisk heeded his call, and Tom smirked. No matter what happened, he would undoubtedly have the upperhand. Jenny Wilkins was no Parselmouth.
"Who are you?" he said harshly, casting a wordless expelliarmus and deftly catching her wand. "And what are you doing here?"
"Why Tom, you don't recognize me?" she asked, her brown eyes defiant. "I know I am changed, but our mannerisms—"
"Who. Are. You." he growled, jabbing his wand into her throat and twisting it, digging it into her skin.
Yet she seemed entirely unaffected. "My, how rash and impulsive you are, rather like a Gryffindor—"
With a snarl of impotent rage, Tom spun to the dark gaping hole in the wall and hissed, Attack. If she insisted on playing games, then he would show her… The basilisk slithered from the gloom, its great yellow eyes glimmering in the faint light. Tom glanced at Jenny, to see if she were cowed, but to his surprise she was still standing, proud and confident, her stance relaxed… almost as if she had expected this.
That was the final straw. Attack, he ordered angrily. Kill her, feast on her remains.
The basilisk coiled, its tongue flickering in the air as it prepared to strike…
And then Jenny hissed, No.
Tom froze. When he spun, shocked, he saw that her brown eyes were now pitch black. She turned to him, and he saw a smirk — a familiar smirk, one which he normally saw in the mirror — on her face. "Hullo, Tom," she said, her inflection unsettlingly familiar. She sounded like… him. "Little Ginny and her precious Order brought me back. We've much to discuss."