Defence Against the Dark Arts that afternoon was held in a large room in the North Tower. It was an empty, sunlit space, windows lining the walls, the perfect place for any duelling or practical spells that their curriculum required.
As they lined up for class, Astraya came up to Tom, a charming smile curving her lips. "Do you want to partner up with me for the duels?" she asked.
Tom, who had planned for this approach, smiled back and said politely, "I'd be happy to."
If she was surprised that he was unruffled by her attempt to annoy him, she didn't show it.
Professor Merrythought, an elderly witch with a cloud of white hair that sprang in loose curls around her thin, heavily lined face, ushered them into the classroom. The weather was mild, and some windows had been cracked open to let in the autumn breeze, lending the room an airy, refreshing atmosphere.
"Now, fifth-years," Merrythought said in a frail voice once everyone had entered and formed a semi- circle around her. "Today, we will start by revising the various offensive and defensive magic you have learnt in previous years. We have already put most spells in practise during the duels we held in class, which is what we're going to do now. I want to see you use every spell you know, both those you learnt in class or out of it, but I don't want you to seriously injure a fellow student. Now, I want you all to get in pairs and spread around the room."
Within moments, the class had divided into ten pairs. The room was large enough that each had their own comfortable space. Tom and Astraya found a spot at the back of the room, near one of the high long windows permitting cool air inside.
Tom felt anticipation rise in him as he raised his wand. Astraya's green eyes, too, were alight with excitement as she lifted hers.
"Now, on my count of three," Merrythought said. "One… two… three."
Tom flicked his wand, and a red beam shot from it towards Astraya. She dispelled it with a simple movement of her wand, and with a twist of her wrist, a purple spell was streaking towards him.
He deflected it easily and countered with another spell. They soon dispensed with the simple spells, moving on to higher level magic that soon had the whole class abandoning their own duels and staring with wide eyes, letting out exclamations of wonder and surprise every few moments.
Tom conjured a ball of brilliant orange fire, which hurtled towards Astraya. She immediately created a barrier that turned the fire into fine, white sand, falling to the floor with a soft, rustling sound. A moment later, the grains rose, swirling in mid-air in a miniature tornado, slowly transforming until each grain had become a shard of glass sharp as a razor. It was an impressive bit of Transfiguration, Tom admitted grudgingly.
The shards congregated and zoomed towards him like a swarm of angry, glass wasps, ready to sink their stingers into him. He murmured an incantation, and they evaporated into a light mist that had the silvery sheen of glass, drifting around him lazily in stark contrast to the purposeful speed of the shards.
Tom realised he was breathing hard, and there was a slight ache in his wand arm from all the quick movements. Astraya looked much the same, and he saw in her eyes the same exhilaration he felt, a slightly dazed feeling of power, brought on by the duel.
He wondered what it would have been like if they had gone full out. The duel, though thrilling, had been limited to spells that would be acceptable in the classroom. Tom knew more than one Dark curse that could have been useful at some point, and given the magic he'd just seen her perform, he considered it a very strong possibility that Astraya knew enough Dark magic of her own.
Tom snapped out of his thoughts as applause exploded into the room. He looked to see the whole class clapping enthusiastically at the display they had put on.
He fell back into his façade as Merrythought approached, her smile summoning extra lines on her face. "Well done, Mr. Riddle." She turned to Astraya. "You are the new student, Astraya Sader, correct?" Merrythought beamed at her. "That was excellent spell-work, Miss Sader. I have no doubt you'll excel at Hogwarts."
After she had awarded them both twenty points for Slytherin, she turned to the class and resumed the lesson. She gave them background information on their O.W. L.s coursework and an introduction on Hex-deflection.
Tom and Astraya were both reserved for the remainder of the hour. When their eyes caught across the room, there was an almost tangible tension between them, as taut as guitar strings. He noticed that there was something new in her gaze. Something like… respect, albeit of a grudging sort.
They had both tested the waters, and they knew that, exceptionally talented as they both were, their magical skills were more or less equal. There was a newly cautious air about both of them, mixed with the reluctant consideration that they each had possibly found someone who could equal them.
On the whole, Astraya's first day had gone well. She had earned the recognition of the teachers of every lesson she'd had so far, apart from Binns, but she didn't think he noticed any student.
And she had managed to get a clearer picture of what Riddle was like at school, since he really did seem to have it in for her. She knew that he was a powerful wizard, and she was sure that he had held back during their classroom duel. But she hadn't gone full power either…
After the last lesson – Ancient Runes – had concluded, she went in search of the library, asking directions from Cora, who had relented on her questions about Astraya and Riddle's relationship after a thorough interrogation during lunch, in which Astraya had answered her questions as honestly and vaguely as possible. Cora had seemed satisfied after she had wrung the last scrap of information from her.
She hadn't wanted to go to the common room after lessons, since it was likely to be filled with chatter, and she would likely be stared at because of her eventful encounters with Riddle that day, so she decided to go to the one place where she could find peace and quiet: the library.
She'd heard that the Hogwarts library was one of the most extensive libraries in Europe, having accumulated tens of thousands of books on an array of magical subjects.
It didn't disappoint. The sheer size of it took her breath away. The library was filled with the scent of leather and parchment and vellum, a scent Astraya drank in as she stared, wide-eyed, at the rows of mahogany shelves that lined the walls and projected, dividing the library into aisles, all furnished with wide tables and red velvet chairs. The ceiling was high and vaulted, stretching into a second floor, and a row of windows above the shelves allowed a glimpse of the afternoon sky, whose previous blue lustre had started to bleed into a watercolour mix of pink and purple.
She wandered between the shelves, browsing the books, running her fingers lightly along the spines. There was something about libraries that always made her feel at home, whether it was a magnificent sight like this one, or it was just a cramped, musty space at the corner of Diagon Alley.
She came to the back of the library, where she noticed with interest a roped-off section. A plaque near it read: RESTRICTED SECTION.
She peered into the shelves, close enough that the rope barrier touched her legs. It was immediately clear why the books in this section were forbidden. Their spines were cracked, their pages yellow and torn, their letters peeling. Several of them had suspicious stains on them, and from the titles that were still legible, she could tell they likely contained extensive information on Dark Magic.
She looked around the library. This section was certainly worth looking into, but Madam Russett, the stringent librarian, was prowling the library like a wolf sniffing for prey. Astraya doubted she could venture into the Restricted Section without the old bat pouncing on her. She'd have to come back later to investigate.
With a last curious look at the Restricted Section, she continued to explore, looking for the section on Ancient Runes. It wasn't something she'd studied before, and since her classmates have been studying it for two years, she'd found herself a bit behind.
As she located the section dedicated to the interpretation of runes and was perusing a rather old book, she caught a glimpse of Riddle through the spaces on the shelf.
She immediately ducked behind the shelves, watching him circumspectly through the cracks between the neatly stacked books. He was a few shelves away, in the History section. A large, musty volume was in his hands, and he was flipping the pages with a furrowed brow, his black eyes skimming the writing with alacrity before he turned the page. Whatever he was looking for in its pages must have been extremely significant. Seeming not to find it, he placed the book irritably back on the shelf and walked away with long strides.
Astraya waited until he was out of sight before she headed to the bookshelf he'd returned the book to. Scanning the titles, she found the one he'd been reading and took it down.
A History of Britain's Oldest Wizarding Families
Frowning in bafflement, she flicked through the mildewed pages, which were filled with family trees depicting the bloodline of every pure-blood family there was.
Why would Riddle be so interested in this?
As she contemplated the question, a voice spoke in a drawl from behind her.
"Were you spying on me, Sader?"
She paused, then turned to Riddle with a careless smile. "I just wanted to see what had you so interested."
"It's none of your business."
Funny, how she'd said those exact words to him that very same day.
Shrugging, she returned the book to its spot. Riddle seemed on edge, as if he was afraid she'd discover something.
She decided to provoke him. "Is this the book you hid in your pocket last night? If it is, then I'm disappointed. I thought it would be something a little more exciting."
He went as stiff as a board, and his eyes widened with shock, then darkened with irritation. "What did you think I was reading?" he asked coldly.
She leaned against the shelves. "Well, I thought it would involve at least a bit of Dark Magic." She lifted her eyebrows as he opened his mouth, as if to argue. "Don't tell me you don't know any."
His tone was mocking. "I wasn't about to."
"Smart." She grinned as she saw his eyes darken with anger. The air seemed to become toxic with it, the mixture of his growing rage and oppressive magic emanating from him like the aroma of excessively applied perfume. In other circumstances, it might have filled her with dread, but here, at Hogwarts, she knew she was safe, and all that she felt was a thrill of excitement snaking gently down her back.
"We should duel sometime," she said. "A real duel. We didn't get the full experience in class. Which reminds me… Do you know how to get books out of the Restricted Section without permission?"
His eyebrows drew together. "Getting into trouble already, Sader?" He leaned an arm negligently against the shelf. "You realise, as a prefect, I have to report rule-breaking."
She laughed. "That was funny. I didn't know you could make jokes."
"Sader—" he gritted out, his jaw clenching.
"I'd love to stay and chat," she said conversationally, "but I've got some homework to do." She smiled and patted his arm before walking past him. She noticed the way he'd stiffened when she'd made contact, and she realised he didn't like being touched.
It made sense that he'd hate contact with other people. She was beginning to think of him as being encased in a protective bubble of superiority and self-importance, like a perennial, self-sustaining Shield Charm.
"There's something I've been wondering about," she heard him say, and she turned to face him with a questioning look. He was regarding her with a long, appraising look. "You told Rosier today you'd been home-schooled by your father, but last night you said you'd been trained by dangerous, powerful wizards."
A cold sliver of dread curled in her stomach. "I didn't lie. Both of those things are true," she managed to say, striving to make her tone even and nonchalant. "They're just…not the whole truth."
He continued to stare at her, his eyes seeming to stray from hers to rest on her forehead, as if by staring long and hard enough, he could get inside her brain and see the secrets she was hiding.
She kept smiling, even though anxiety was swelling inside her.
Suddenly, he pushed away from the shelf and straightened his robes. There was an excited gleam in his eyes, as if a new, diabolical idea had just struck him, one that he was eager to carry out.
Her throat tightened with alarm, though she kept her face composed.
"I'll leave you to your homework, Sader," he said casually, before striding away towards one of the niches further down the library.
Astraya took a few moments to gather herself, then, abandoning the quest for Ancient Runes, she threw her schoolbag over one shoulder and left the library. She didn't know where she was going, but she needed to be away from the castle. She meandered blindly through the corridors and down the stairs to the Entrance Hall. Seeing the large front doors cracked open, she made for them immediately. It was nearly curfew, but she didn't care.
A burst of cold evening air hit her face as she stepped outside. She hadn't realised how warm it was inside the castle. It wasn't yet winter, but the warmth of summer had faded, replaced with the soft, crisp chill of autumn that settled pleasantly in the lungs, instead of sinking wearily into the bones.
She walked across the green expanse of grass that surrounded the school, her robes fluttering around her. She rounded the castle to the vast lawns behind it, where three greenhouses stood, the fading sun sometimes flashing on their panes as it descended past the horizon.
She came to a secluded grove of willow and birch near the Black Lake. Her bag slipped from her shoulder, and she let herself sink next to it, tucking her legs beneath her on the soft green grass.
She sat in sullen consternation. Every time the subject of her past was brought up, every time she was reminded of it, she went into full-scale panic. Her throat closed up as if a noose had tightened around it, anxiety filled every pore in her body, and she felt the wall of self-control and confidence she'd built crumble.
These last two years had been the closest thing to happiness she'd had her whole life. She'd been able to forget, at least for a short while, but what had happened these last few days… it brought it all back. It made her feel like a child again, alone and scared and defenceless. She hated that feeling with every fibre of her being. She didn't want to feel that way ever again.
As she sat in silence, she heard a twig snap behind her, as if someone had stepped on it. She whirled around, standing, her hand going reflexively to her wand. A faint shadow cast by the fading sun projected from behind the swathes of green fronds drooping from a willow. A boy stepped out, his neatly parted hair gleaming like pyrite.
She released her grip on her wand, but her body remained tense. "Rosier," she said neutrally. "What are you doing here? Did Riddle tell you to follow me?"
He arched one eyebrow. "I saw you go outside and thought that no-one had warned you that students weren't allowed to be on the grounds at this time." He surveyed her coolly. "And not everything I do is on Riddle's orders."
"Does he know that?"
His eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tensing, though his expression didn't show a bit of anger. He struck her as someone whose real emotions and feelings were rarely, if ever, displayed on his face. Someone who controlled them so rigidly he could prevent himself from feeling anything at all.
"We should get back to the castle," he said. "You don't want to get into trouble on your first day."
"Maybe I do," she retorted. But she glanced furtively at the darkening sky. He was right; if she didn't make it back soon, she was going to get detention, not to mention lose points for Slytherin, which wouldn't serve to make her any more popular with them.
With a resigned sigh, she picked up her bag and brushed off the grass that had stuck to it. She strode past him without a glance or word, not saying anything as he easily matched his stride to hers.
They walked in silence until they reached the greenhouses, their long glass panels glinting with a vague, black hue against the night. They had come to the vegetable patch when Rosier stopped, his gaze narrowing intently at something in the distance.
She glanced at him irritably. "What?" Following the direction of his stare, her eyes caught on a sight near the Entrance Hall. A notch appeared between her eyebrows. "What—?"
They both retreated into the shadow of a greenhouse. Dumbledore's long hair was a vivid red in the torchlight flickering from either side of the heavy oak doors. He was speaking to a man dressed in emerald green robes. His back was to them, his face not visible, but he had long, dark hair tied back at the nape. A large, ornate trunk lay next to him.
It was clear even from this distance that Dumbledore was conversing warmly with him, his usual benign smile lining his face. He gestured to the doors behind them, seeming to ask the man something, who responded with a nod. He took out a wand and flicked it at his trunk, which vanished instantly. The two men made their way up the steps, resuming their conversation as they ascended. Before they entered the castle, the stranger turned his face slightly, so that it was in Astraya's line of vision. The torchlight flickered over his face, throwing into sharp relief a pair of narrow eyes set above high, pronounced cheekbones. Then he had entered the building and was out of sight.
She glanced at Rosier. He seemed just as intrigued by the peculiar interaction as she was, his brow furrowed in thought.
She looked back at the castle, staring at the spot where the stranger had stood, the image of his shadowed face flashing across her mind. She felt a sudden chill, and her stomach tightened with the tense anxiety of foreboding.
Tom looked up from his book as the door to his dorm opened, and Rosier came in. He closed the book slowly and sat up from his reclined position on his bed. The others, who were all doing their homework, apart from Lestrange, who was lying on his bed, one arm thrown carelessly over his head, using his wand to twirl a small mass of smouldering paper in mid-air, all glanced towards the newcomer.
"Where were you?" Tom asked Rosier softly. It was nearly curfew, and Rosier had disappeared without telling Tom where he went.
"I went to follow Sader," he said evenly, without blinking. "I saw her running out of the library, looking distressed."
Tom's gaze sharpened, his annoyance at him vanishing. "And?"
Rosier went calmly to his bed and sank down onto it, the usual cold, almost bored, calmness on his face. "She didn't go or do anything interesting. I told her we should get back to the castle since it was nearly our curfew." A spark of interest appeared in his eyes. "But on our way back, we saw something strange."
He told them about Dumbledore and the stranger he'd been conversing with and welcoming into the castle. When he'd finished, Tom ran his finger lazily over the book's leather binding. "It's not that strange. He could simply be a new teacher Dumbledore was welcoming."
"But what subject would he teach?" Avery asked. "There are no openings for any of the subjects."
"He could be an assistant for Merrythought. I've heard rumours that the job is starting to tire her out. We'll find out tomorrow." He placed the book on his bedside table, and surveyed his group appraisingly. "There are more important matters to attend to. Such as what we're going to do about this Sader brat."
There was a palpable burst of excitement in the room at the prospect of a new illicit campaign against another student. Avery, Mulciber and Nott's eyes all sat up straighter, Lestrange turned away from the flaming parchment he'd been amusing himself with, and Rosier looked at him alertly.
Tom smirked at their intent expressions, feeling a leap of excitement and satisfaction as he thought of carrying his plan out. Leaning forward into the light drifting down from the lanterns hung from the ceiling, he begun to explain his scheme, a malicious gleam flashing over his black eyes.