Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for the delay. I got caught up with the It Fandom and was hanging around the sewers before coming back to this. This chapter is the longest chapter I have ever written. 5600 words according to Word and it's just - mind blowing - for me. I'm hoping to be able to update this more regularly, considering that Demon Clowns is actually finished and I managed to churn out a new chapter within a few days, barring a few exceptions.

I'm trying to ease back into the Third POV after being used to a Second POV writing style, so please forgive me for the odd tonal shifts here and there. I have combed through this chapter as best as I can, but don't be surprised if you find a random 'you are' here and there.

Thank you so much for all your reviews and favourites! It means a lot to me.

Mary hadn't thought much about how exactly she was to gain Dumbledore's trust. While the Harry's Dumbledore might be inclined to accept her more fantastical experience regarding reincarnation and meta-universes, this Dumbledore does not exude the same openness. She understood though. This Dumbledore was still young and had yet faced his former-friend/lover in the battlefield. He's afraid of what facing Grindelwald would mean and whether he could survive it, emotionally. Not to forget that he's currently estranged from his only brother and for all his geniality with others, they don't relate to him emotionally. They put him on a pedestal, no, a throne, from which he dispensed his knowledge upon others. Guiding those to where they need to go and watching with constant vigilance.

And like all those who rule at the top, it could get extremely lonely. McGonagall, whom Mary believed to be his closest friend, had yet met him and was probably not even born yet.

In a way, Mary could relate to him. Knowing so much but must sit on one's hands in fear of screwing up and making things much worse.

She does not know just how much she had already muddled with Tom. Mary would like to think her clumsy attempts at trying to be a sister for him, to show him that love was a thing worth fighting for had changed something. He's fond of her, that she's assured off but she doesn't know if he's fond of her like a pet or like an actual person. There were times when he'd come up to her, seeking something, affection perhaps, and she could see that it's real. Then, he'd do something like twisting Avery into 'lending' his book or the way he's all gentlemanly towards Dorothy then smirking once she turned her back.

It's tiring to watch and sometimes she wished she had been born as someone else's twin or not reborn at all.

But in the end, she opted to watch Dumbledore. She had made a complete hash for her first impression (hysterical laughter rarely does well) and she decided that maybe she ought to put on the aura of an orphaned student, eager to fit in with the wizarding world. It had worked well for her before and she's banking on finding an opening that she could exploit later. Failing that see just how difficult it was to make Felix Felicis.

The day on Mary and Tom's first Transfiguration class, however, it seemed the universe had decided to throw her a bone…or twenty.

"Did you hear the latest news about Grindelwald?" a senior student asked his friend who was flipping through the newspaper eagerly.

"Give me a moment, I'm still reading…" the boy replied, frowning at the article he stopped at. His friend didn't wait however and continued as if he had not heard, "Well, it's about this business in France…"

"France? I thought he's spotted in Greece?" another boy, with wild red hair butted in.

"Greece? He left them weeks ago, no he's in France I tell you…"

Unfortunately, she couldn't hear the rest as Tom tugged her sleeve for her attention. Her twin looked more refreshed than yesterday and Mary didn't need to read his mind to know what he wanted.

"Library today?" Mary said before he could open his mouth. Tom grinned at her query. They had been side-tracked yesterday, after being completely exhausted dealing with not only a drill sergeant of a Professor but also a free-for-all melee with a Venomous Tentacula. Mary had wondered why the Wizarding World does not seem to focus much on the physical side in their curriculum excepting Quidditch but now she understood why they didn't. Lord, that was just Herbology; what would Care for Magical Creatures and Defence Against the Dark Arts would feel like when handled by a competent teacher?

Mary felt her legs aching from the thought. Suddenly, spending time with Tom in the library, even at a misguided quest at finding their heritage, sounded so good.

"Let's just hope we don't have to fight anything today. My arms are still crying."

Tom chuckled and then gave Mary a sympathetic smile, "We have flying lessons, remember?"

Mary groaned, palming her face with her hands as Tom rubbed her back.

"I hear it's on broomsticks too." He added, sounding less pleased with that revelation.

"Do you think every stories about witches and wizards are true?" she asked absently. She knew not all of them were true but she could see Tom's mind pondering that question.

"It's the last lesson of the day, though and we have a break before that. We'll go after Potions." He responded, putting some toast and eggs onto his plate.

"Have you started on that Charms homework?" he asked, nibbling into his breakfast. Mary was about to answer when Dorothy, ever refined sat beside her, flashing both the twins a winning smile.

"I heard you talking about homework! I knew you'd start right away Tom, you look like a student who takes his work seriously and that's wonderful!" the young witch started, ignoring the groan coming from Edith who followed after her. If Tom was taken aback by Dorothy's intrusion, he hid it very well and with a glance at his sister, who shook her head amusedly, he and Dorothy began discussing the more salient properties of linguistic magic.

Or something.

Mary decided to copy Edith (whose face seemed to get grumpier by the seconds) and finished her own plate quietly. Not that Mary was going to copy her own college habits of doing things the last minute, oh not thing time. Namely because typewriters and computers weren't a thing at Hogwarts and she had to write with a (albeit magical) quill. Another frustrating bit was that while her brain was quite fast, her hands were more likely to set a sedate pace. Also, even though Wool's Orphanages loved to drown their students with school work, it was still light compared to the workload Hogwarts was teasing to give. One day, once she understood Charms better, she was going to have to magic a typewriter for her convenience, at the very least. The Wizarding World might be content in believing their superiority towards Muggles but she was most certainly not going to. There were a lot of things the Muggles did right. And if there was one thing Mary firmly believed was working smart! And avoid unnecessary hard work because she's a Slytherin dang it!

Bloody 'quills', in the twenty-first, er, twentieth century? She thought not.

Still, Mary did find some pleasure in watching Tom's smile becoming more fixed as Dorothy rambled on about what she thought of the lax behaviour of some students (she eyed Edith pointedly). Her brother soon made signs for Mary to please save him already but Mary simply smirked and waved him goodbye.

She was going to pay for that afterwards but it tickled her to see Tom at a loss for once.

Mary found a nice table, not too far from the blackboard but not too far at the back when Tom sauntered in with Dorothy still hanging on to him (as much as she could without actually touching the boy). Eventually, he was able to politely disengage from her as he placed his things onto the table Mary had chosen. With a firm wave, he sat down as Dorothy frowned and joined Edith who did not looked pleased with the arrangement.

Mary sniggered as Tom slams his textbook on the table and though he didn't allude to Dorothy, he still gave Mary a look that seemed to promise vengeance.

"It looks like you have an admirer Tom," Mary muttered, smirking as he scowled back.

Now, Tom had his fair share admirers back at the orphanage, it was rather difficult not too because he was a very beautiful boy and exuded a sort of charm that enticed others. But Mary knew none of them lasted very long, because once Tom knew someone had liked him, he would milk them for all their worth. Then he'd ruin them because that was you should do to a toy that's no longer working.

Mary had escaped so far because she was his twin but sometimes she wondered if that was because she had not been broken yet. Or he still found her fascinating. There were moments when Mary could see Tom eyeing her like she's a puzzle he could not solve and until then, she was something that offered him a measure of love bound by blood, even if that love was distant and confusing at times.

She was the only person who was there since he was born, his twin, the mirror to himself and Mary knew just how much Voldemort loved himself. She was an extension of him and because of that, she was cherished for as much as someone like Tom could care for someone.

Mary could tease him, yes but only to an extent. Only when she knew it would help his image and oh, how he wanted to start fresh at Hogwarts. Their Muggle world would never accept Tom for long because even without magic they could sense there was something…broken with him. But here, in this world of magic where rules are bent, broken and twisted, the boy could start anew.

Tom could be Voldemort.

Mary felt a chill up her spine at her train of thought. She turned away from her brother, trying to get a grip as he frowned and touched her arm.

"Are you all right, Mary?" he asked and Mary wanted so much for that sincerity to be real.

"Yes…just…aching, that's all." She lied, touching her legs as though it did. Tom gave her a quick rub on her shoulder, like it was something a brother ought to do.

"I know. I'm still going to make you pay though." He said, smiling mischievously at her. Mary swatted him playfully like a sister would do. Tom nudged her in response before Professor Dumbledore marched in and the lesson began.

Transfiguration had been interesting.

"Transfiguration is a very precise branch of magic. While Charms is an act of adding a property to the object, Transfiguration changes them. I find that an artistic mind are often likely to master this branch of magic, for it requires a strong visualisation and an eye for detail. Alas, there will be no levitations here or the need to enunciate certain words a hundred times in my class, but proper speech is necessary. Unless you want to end up chasing after mice that had fiery furs or oinking tables that once chased poor old Pringle around the hallway."

The students giggled as Dumbledore gave them a merry wink towards Mary. As expected, Dumbledore was rather eccentric – well not 'Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!' eccentric, not yet – but there's something whimsical about the way he saw magic. McGonagall and Snape had emphasised, in the books, about the scientific method of their subjects. Even Professor Beau would have drilled precision into his student's hands if he could. Excepting Herbology, which was less wand-learning and more shovel whacking, they all demanded the same thing: follow the instructions to the letter and don't fool around.

Dumbledore, on the other hand, saw art. He saw the loopholes, the twists, the places to bend. Yes, the spell demanded certain hand movements and exact enunciation – but what comes out might not be the same. For instance, Tom and Mary performed the correct spell and wand movement, but his matchbox would come out small, with a simple design. Mary was slightly larger and came with a logo she once saw at Diagon Alley. Dorothy's was the exact replica of Dumbledore's, while Edith, after some time made one with her name emblazoned on it.

And they are all correct in Dumbledore's eyes. He asked for a matchbox, he did not ask it be the same one he transfigured.

It was less transfiguration and more, let's see how much rules we can bend and still fulfil our goals.

It was fun.

And yet…Mary could not help but note a certain coolness in the way Dumbledore reacted towards her twin. The way his gentle smile would falter just a bit whenever Tom finished his assignment in class or the cool stare he'd give at Tom's questions and answers.

Mary found that strange because she remembered their first meeting. It had been amicable at least and Tom did not exhibit any signs of his cruelty, just hard questions from orphans who just had their world blown wide open at the very idea of a magical community. There had been no toys set on fire nor tales of rabbits hanging in the rafters. All in all, it had been strange but reasonable.

So why was Professor Dumbledore setting up walls? Mary knew this because Dumbledore was acting like she does whenever she simply did not want to feel or deal. That slow dissociation. The grey-rocking of Tom's attempts to peel off that layer to reach the man's personal core. Not that he doesn't do that to the others but it was especially pronounced with Tom.

Mary (and Tom) was baffled as to why.

She couldn't help but stare at him, confused by this revelation, not realising it was longer than it was polite when the man stared back. Mary jumped slightly at this when she felt like someone was slowly piercing through her, peeling back her layers when she tore her eyes away with horror.

'Legilimens!' She forgot about the whole reading your mind thing. Mary tried to blank her mind, compartmentalize and thought of everything banal like a first-year should be. She gave Dumbledore a quick glimpse and saw a minute frown on his features, like he was surprised. Mary felt her heart racing inside her chest and she swore she could hear it beating in class. She focused herself onto the needle on the table, trying to imagine it becoming another matchbox but her hands were shaking.

Tom, bless him, gently prods her and she turned to see him staring at her curiously. Mary gave him a quick nod at her legs and for a moment he swallowed her excuse.

That did not stop her from nearly jumping from her seat, when Dumbledore asked, "Miss Riddle are you all right?"

"Eh, erm, yes, Professor, just a little cramp from…er, um…Herbology lessons." Mary stammered, bending down to grasp her thighs as a means to avoid eye contact.

"Ah, I supposed you all had the pleasure of Professor Blossom's hands on lessons?" the Transfiguration Professor said with a chuckle.

"Oh, yes Professor, we had to defeat Venomous Tentacula with shovels!" Dorothy interrupted, sounding absolutely scandalised. Mary could kiss her roommate at that moment.

Dumbledore continued chuckling at the antics of his colleague and moved away from the table, "Ah, yes. Often wizards and witches depend on their wands for tasks. It's good that Professor Bloom teaches us once in a while to use a shovel or two," he uttered and Mary could positively hear Dorothy deflate, thinking that the old man would agree that 'shovels' ought not belong in class. But Mary was simply glad Dumbledore was back to focusing on the various attempts of his students to transfiguring matchboxes.

Mary did not attempt to talk to him afterwards. She had forgotten a crucial element on her part.

Occlumency and Legilimens.

No, Dumbledore she would leave alone until she mastered Occlumency. There's no hope for her to bargain with him, if all Dumbledore had to do was peer into her mind and see everything. She also wanted to punch herself; Tom was also going to master Legilimens! If not now, sooner or later and her mind, her memories, was the last thing she wanted him to peruse in.

Mary's mood remained jittery throughout Potions, so much so that it took her a while to realise that the class was being held by Professor Slughorn.

"What?" she blurted out loudly as the man, the skinny, not even remotely resembling anything the book or movie had described, introduced himself to the whole class. Tom gripped her arm tightly as she uttered apologies to the bewildered Professor.

"I, er, it's pain from um, yesterday, Herbology, Professor Bloom." Mary spluttered, rubbing her arms now like that part was aching.

Judging from the way Slughorn nodded sympathetically, Mary had a strange feeling the Herbology professor was going to be her go to excuses for a lot of these lapses. Still, it surprised her to see Slughorn teaching in this era. She thought he was joining the staff later, not seeing anyone stout and fun loving at the staff table in the Great Hall.

Slughorn turned out to be a rather slim man, with a generous handlebar moustache bedecked in simple and yet expensive set of robes. He looked positively immaculate and greatly resembled those white gentlemen hunters you'd seen in movies set in the colonial era. Also, he was rather handsome for a man around his forties.

Mary started to wonder if there would be any more surprises in the near future and scolded herself because she should stop being shocked. Of course, the characters she knew wouldn't resemble the movies or her imaginations. Of course, certain people are going to look extremely different. She just wished she doesn't blurt out like that and create unnecessary attention onto herself.

"Ah, you must be Miss Riddle, made a scene at the Great Hall with the Bloody Baron. Such a nasty business that was." The Potions' Master commented as he gave Mary a once over. Then she remembered The Slug Club; the the man loved to collect talented and connected students. While she knew Tom managed to wrangle into the club due to his natural abilities, Mary doubted she'd be anything more than Tom's plus one.

But Slughorn still stared at Mary, like he's curious about the girl who made the Bloody Baron laugh.

"Tell me are you too related in any way to the La Morte Family?" he asked and Mary's eyes widened.

"Er, no, Professor. My twin brother and I are orphans. We are raised in a muggle orphanage," She explained and Slughorn gave them a kindly smile.

"I'm sorry to hear that dear. I'm curious if you might have a link to them. The La Morte are known for their knowledge with afterlife matters. Why they are known to have the largest concentration of ghosts in their family, having a ghostly member almost every generation! I have known Mrs. La Morte since she was studying at Beaubaxton. She's currently the Head of France's Department of Mysteries. I'm sure she'd be curious to hear about this. The Bloody Baron had been her subject of interest while she visited here."

Mary's head nearly snapped of her shoulders. 'Afterlife' matters? The La Morte family? Slughorn went on, talking to Tom who was also listening to him intently.

"But, oh dear, there I go again. Rambling on, when we're here today to learn about Potions! Now, who can tell me what is Potions exactly in the art of magic?"

Mary allowed Tom to answer and do the talking. Not that her mind had wandered off but she quickly made a note regarding the La Morte Family. Tom gave her a quick glance as she showed him the name she had jotted down. Mary could tell that the boy would want to start from there. While she knew the La Morte Family would be nothing more but a red herring in the pursuit of the Gaunt Family, but it was a point of interest to the girl.

True, they are in France and Mary had no way to actually meet them, yet, but she still made note to see them, somehow. If not for the fact that they seem to be surrounded by death but by the dead as well. Mary could not help but feel curious.

The class went splendidly with Slughorn praising both Tom, Dorothy, Edith and several other known students with old family names. Mary was not surprised with that, what did however, was when Slughorn personally asked her to join for a simple tea party next weekend.

"Just a simple party, I'm inviting some of my former students along. Who knows, you might find out a few things about your future." The man said before pushing them out for their next class.

Tom was impatient during lunch and Mary conceded to having just a quick bite before they both dash off to the library.

When they (finally) reached the correct floor, Mary let out a small squee of delight at the sight of all those books. Although Hogwarts was already a large castle on its own, its library seemed to have been magically enlarged. There were rows and rows of books, some of them flitting about in the air heading towards their designated shelves. One area was chained off, of course as Mary deduced to be the Restricted Section. Already a few students sat on the tables, books piling beside them as they focus on their homework. A cheerful librarian, who went by the name Anna Pages, greeted them with a wave as they walked in.

Tom went up to her asking about books on Wizarding Genealogy as Mary stood there, simply taking it in.

This one, was without a doubt, going to be her favourite haunt.

"All right Mary, let's look at these first."

Although the reason why both of them were there was for the search for their family (well, for Tom anyway). Mary kept an eye out for any books she wanted to borrow and those she need for her homework. Her brother was single-minded in his pursuit as they reached the row regarding Wizarding history.

"Look for 'The Complete Wizarding Genealogy' by Atticus Harm, 'A History of Magical Family in Great Britain and Ireland' by Minerva MacDougal and 'The Sacred Twenty-Eight' by Cantankerus Nott." He ordered, his eyes already roving over the Ms.

"Do you think our family are in any of these?"

Tom lets out an irritated sigh, "These are the known ones. Maybe one of them contains our father, Tom Riddle."

"Still think it's our father?" Tom shot her a venomous glare and Mary would have flinched if not for the fact that she knew he wouldn't dare do anything in public. Yet.

Rolling her eyes, Mary extended a compromise, "Fine. How about this? You look for our father and I look for our mother, deal?"

The young boy shut his eyes, taking a deep breath before agreeing. When they found the books, which were thick enough to bludgeon a troll with, they had barely enough time to peruse it. Mary knew her task would be easy, knowing that their mother was from the Gaunt family but she still wanted to look out for the La Morte family. If only to satisfy that curious itch at the back of her head. Mary also took a book titled 'Ghosts: The Memoirs of The Ones That Stayed Behind' by Desdemona de la Morte. Spotting the extra tome, Tom raised an eyebrow but chose to remain quiet; in his way of apologising for nearly losing his temper.

After checking out the books and then storing them in their dorm room, Mary and Tom rushed quickly towards their flying lessons.

The Training Grounds, a.k.a the Quidditch Field (holy cow) was almost exactly like the ones in the movies. Except for some minor aesthetic changes, like the flags, how the uniforms are made and how the flying brooms looked like, Mary felt like she had stepped into one of Warner Brothers' movie sets. Well, if the Quidditch Field existed, Mary had a feeling it was more of green-screen and 3D Models than anything else.

Still, it was amazing to see.

The referee, a sturdy old witch who went by the name Amanda Swift quickly led them to a bunch of broomsticks lying on the ground.

"Good evening, all of you! I'm Madam Swift and I can see from all those eager faces, you're all impatient to try flying. Well, how many of you had had experience on flying a broom?" Mary saw several hands shooting up, most of them from wizarding families. A few Muggle-borns were hopping excitedly as they looked at the referee who grinned widely at their expressions.

"Good, good but learning at home is not the same as learning professionally! I want all of you to line up in front of a broom, each of you. Now go!"

The class ran up to their brooms, a rather battered looking bunch, Mary thought. She followed Tom and settled on the ones that looked the least woebegone. Her twin did not look assured at the whole flying thing. Mary could tell that he's wondering if there was another way to fly that didn't involve relying on an item that one used to sweep floors.

"Now, extend your arm, like this and say 'Up!'" Swift ordered.

Mary, she noted, was one of the few persons who managed to get their brooms of the ground. Edith was one of them, already perched on hers like she had done it a thousand times. Dorothy's one simply rolled over, Irma's twitched and flopped back. Tom gave Mary a scowl before glaring at his unresponsive broom. He tried again and Mary had a notion that the broom probably ran up to his arm this time around because Tom sounded like he would set it on fire if it didn't.

"Good, for those who have their brooms up, sling up to it and hold it like this!" the woman gestured, "Then wait there! The rest of you, try again!"

Mary swung over hers and was mildly surprised to find herself sitting on a nice, invisible cushion. She gently pushed herself off the ground and found herself floating just a few inches from the field. Tom mimicked her as well and she watched as her twin experimented in turning left and right.

"It's a little undignified…" he commented as he turned towards her.

"It's all right. Maybe needs some getting used to," she replied letting her hands move and the broom sway. It reminded Mary of riding a motorcycle. Both of them waited, floating contently when they heard Dorothy practically screaming, "Up, UP you stupid broom!"

Mary recalled little of what happened next. She knew she heard the sound of Dorothy kicking the broom and it flew, smacking into Mary's. The next thing she felt was the exhilarating sensation of being propelled hundreds of meters into the air, the sounds of screaming and panic drowned away as she tried to hold on to the broom in her arms.

Hogwarts, the forest and all those on the ground, zoomed passed as she soared above them. The sky was so blue and wide and she felt like she could breached the atmosphere and touch those beautiful stars.

Time stood still as she bursts through the clouds and part of her was screaming in panic and wonder, that she did not hear the broom snap.

She was falling now, her wings clipped, her stomach flip-flopped as her mind realised that she was falling and there's no broom. Whatever feeble survival instinct that remained was crying out, trying to activate the magic that ran through her veins but part of her closed her eyes and simply surrendered.

At some point, she must have hit something because her arm snapped and what felt like branches beating her while she hissed in pain, praying it would all end when she heard him…

"No, don't you dare!"

Something, no, someone seized her and Mary's head slammed into a chest and sturdy arms. Her eyes shots and open to saw…

"Tom?"

"How dare you? How dare you?" he hissed as Mary turned and saw, Tom on his broomstick, one arm clutched to its handle and the other holding on to her for dear life. Mary had barely grasped the scene when Madam Swift, flew up to them, with a thunderous expression.

"Tom Riddle! Ten points from Slytherin for disobeying a teacher's orders!" she barked, while helping adjust Mary in his arms. Tom didn't respond, simply tightening his grip even further. Slowly, somehow they found themselves back onto the ground. Mary heard Dorothy sobbing and begging for an apology. She heard Irma shouting at others to stay back and even Edith was peering over the crowd, her face stricken.

Mary wanted to signal them that everything was fine, but pain shot up her arm and she remember it had snapped, so she hissed as Madam Swift, conjured up a stretcher and carefully placed her there.

"All you stay here on the ground! I am taking Miss Riddle to the Hospital Wing. Anyone caught flying without permission will serve detention for a month!"

"I'm going with her, please, Madam Swift!" Mary heard her brother beg and it sounded so wrong. She did not recall much else after that, just Madam Swift and Tom pushing her to the Hospital Wing. They reached there in record time, to a stern faced man who gave Mary a once over.

"First flying lessons, Amanda?" he said, quickly pulling out his wand and levitate Mary to an empty hospital bed.

"Yes, Hermes but not this one's fault though, a student kicked a broom and hit hers. Flew hundreds of meters of up, and managed to hit some trees on the way down. Broke her arm," Madam Swift explained. Hermes turned towards Tom who sat on the chair next to the bed.

"I'm her brother, Dr. Hermes, please help her." He pleaded, the face of an anxious family member and the man's face softened.

"It's Healer Hermes but don't worry, this looks like a simple fracture," he motioned and quickly summoned a bottle of white liquid. He poured the content onto a spoon and pushed it against Mary's mouth.

"Here, it tastes foul but in a few minutes your arm should mend itself." He warned even as Mary spluttered with disgust at the taste of it. With great difficulty, she managed to swallow the concoction. Even as she gagged at the taste, she could feel her bones mending and the pain ebbing away. Tom watched with fascination while Hermes continued to put tiny vials and a small ointment jar of medicine on the table before examining her arms.

"Hm, see, your arm's mending quite well. But you still need to take these. Rub this ointment here for the scratches and these would help you with the pain. You'll stay here for the rest of the class I'm afraid. I still need to monitor your arm for a bit more." The healer added.

"All right. You can stay here with your sister Mr. Riddle."

"Thank you so much Healer Hermes, Madam Swift!" he effused as the two adults waved it aside.

"Don't think too much of it. At least you didn't land in the Centaur's forest," Hermes said as Madam Swift's eye twitched.

"God, let's not even think of that. Well, I'm going back and hopefully this would be the only incident for the day."

"Don't count on it," the man shot back as Madam Swift walked away.

The next hour was spent with Tom sitting beside Mary with Healer Hermes occasionally peeking in. Tom was…kind. He helped Mary fluff her pillows and they made small talk about what had happened. Her twin stirred away from the details of Mary's rescue or the outburst he had. It felt…nice…and for a while she felt like she could believe that Tom was being sincere.

Finally, near dinner time, Healer Hermes made on final examination, "Hmm, this looks good. I think you both can leave now and don't forget to finish you medicine."

They both thanked the man and began walking off to their dorm room. The walk was quiet and tense, Mary could sense that Tom was angry at her. Which was strange because the only reason why her arm was broken was because it was an accident in the first place.

She tried talking to him, bringing up ideas and theories that they might find from the books they borrowed by Tom answered monosyllabically, letting the tension hung awkwardly in the air. Finally, just before they reached the Great Hall, with students beginning to crowd and she felt safe in their numbers that she turned to him.

"Why are you angry? It's not as if I wanted to fall." She asked and Tom paused. His body stiffened as he takes a deep breath.

"I saw it." He started, "I saw that face. The one you make whenever you want to die."

She felt as if he had slapped her.

When he finally faced her, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, something inside her twisted. She reached out for him, wanting to comfort him, to remind him that no, that was not true but a voice cackled cruelly at that statement. Then, whatever lie she wanted to tell him turned to ash in her mouth. Her hand dangled between them like a sign.

As though he could read her mind, Tom shuts his eyes, shuddered and then opened them back pulling the mask of Tom Riddle, Perfect Hogwarts' Student back onto his face. He reached out for her, ignoring her half-attempt and pulled her into the Great Hall, as her roommates and his crowd her to apologise and inquire about her health.

It was only when they reached to the common room and part ways (research postponed), that he eventually lets go.