Laying low was not so easy for a girl who was notoriously troublesome.
Over the next few days, she struggled to find a balance between staying out of trouble and not staying out of trouble... Her first instinct was to behave like any other model student, but after thinking it through, she realized that would raise more suspicion. She calculated when she'd joke in class. Which battles to pick. When Malfoy shot a scathing comment her way, she had to remind herself not to throw a darker threat back at him— that kind of response might give a professor reason to investigate her.
Perhaps she should have picked another spell. At the time, all she could think of was not getting caught in the act. She studied many dark spells out of Riddle's book. She thought she knew how to perform them when the time came. And to be fair, she did cast Tom's special Mystifying Curse perfectly and it had worked in capturing everyone's attention. But it'd also been absolutely alarming for everyone involved.
Not all of the Hogwarts students were like Lucy and her friends— they weren't used to sudden, potentially dangerous situations. The Dark Mist, as everyone had taken to calling it, had enraptured the entire student body, and they showed no signs of calming down about it. Rumors circulated the castle so rapidly that Lucy could hardly keep track of them. A popular theory was that it was the Heir's doing, that they'd planned to take out all the muggleborns at once. Nobody paid attention to Lucy when she pointed out that Anthony and Flint, two purebloods, were the only ones remotely injured. Another one was that a dangerous creature had made its way into the castle. Less popular, people thought dementors might have been behind it all.
Dumbledore closed the Great Hall in his investigations; students were to eat in their respective common rooms until further notice. She'd scowled when he first announced it, then quickly fixed her facial expression. She had to wonder. Why was this the instance that alarmed him the most?
She complained as much to Tom in private. He was the only one she could truly complain about Dumbledore with. He was always delighted to offer insight— cough, insults, cough— on the topic, and today wasn't any different.
While students wandered about their dorms for breakfast, she was leaning over the sink, trying to scrub the blue out of her hair. She was tempted to let it fade naturally but soon decided she didn't want to draw anymore attention to herself. She was on her seventh wash, and it was finally beginning to fade.
"It's obvious, isn't it?" Tom said after she grumbled about the 'big fuss' everyone was making.
She scowled, scrubbing at her hair with a towel. "Yes, it's so obvious that I've decided to ask you about it."
He twitched at her sarcasm but wisely didn't retort. They finally reached a point where they knew which arguments would waste both their time. Or rather, Tom finally stopped taking offense to every little thing Lucy teased him with.
He continued speaking as though she hadn't interrupted. "All of my spells aren't recorded anywhere else— they're entirely mine, and so I'm the only one who could possibly reverse them. Or in this case, you."
She reached for her conditioner as he spoke. Round eight, she thought mutinously. Damn those Weasley twins.
"So he's miffed because he didn't know the spell?" Lucy said doubtfully. "I get that he's great and all, but he can't expect to know everything."
"It's not about what he doesn't know. Lucy, Dumbledore knows this was my spell."
Her blood positively froze in her veins. If that wasn't bad enough, a bit of conditioner got into her eye just as he informed her of that little fun fact, and so she let out a "Oh bloody hell!" and splashed water into her face. Tom laughed at her misfortune, even as she sent a rude hand gesture his way. "Dammit Riddle!" She complained. "You can't just drop a bomb on me while I'm dealing with chemicals!"
"It's conditioner."
"Which is made of chemicals!"
She washed the soap out of her hair, sighing when she saw the faintest blue tint to it. She resigned to trying again later tonight, if at all. She draped the towel over her shoulders and was rubbing at her bloodshot eye as she turned to Tom, frowning.
"You're telling me," she began, enunciating every word, "That Dumbledore, the guy who doesn't trust either of us, especially you, realizes that a dark and dangerous spell could only have been cast by you?"
"Yes, that's about what I'm getting at." She wanted to whack his smug expression off his face.
"Tom, what the heck!" She groaned. "I'm the only one who's asked about you in, I don't know, like half a century? He's got to know it's me!"
Tom rolled his eyes at her distress. He pushed himself off the wall, following her to the dorm room where she collapsed into her arm chair. "He doesn't know it's you. All he'll know is that the spell has my magical signature. I think he'd suspect a Slytherin first and foremost, perhaps the same one who's tried to attack you. Or he thinks it's the Heir, since the records have been stolen from his office. I doubt his first thought would be you and your group of friends, who are all Gryffindors, I might add. Still, he might suppose you know something."
"Why me?" she frowned. If he didn't think she cast the spell, then why would she know anything? Hufflepuffs were supposed to be the 'good guys' anyway.
"You're friends with an awful lot of Slytherins, and I'm sure your relationship with Mallory hasn't escaped his notice. You've been doing well at keeping a low profile so far. As long as you keep at it, I doubt you'll ever get caught." She relaxed, but of course he had to add, "But expect some subtle questioning from professors, all the same."
She groaned again. Thank merlin Tom had the decency to warn her of that. She had no idea about 'magical signatures'; it was yet another item to add to her ever-growing list of Things I Don't Know About the Wizarding World. She found some semblance of hope, however, that Tom had gained so much knowledge, and he was only three school years ahead of her.
Her sulking was interrupted by Grayble, who decided that he needed petting at that immediate moment. He hopped up into her lap and looked her in the eye, daring her to deprive him of love. Now, Lucy could be cruel, but she wasn't that cruel. She gave in immediately, smiling at Grayble as she scratched behind his ear.
Her owl, Snape, flew over and landed on her armrest. His glare seemed accusing. Lucy realized that she hadn't written a letter to anyone in awhile. "Yeesh, I'll write to Nathan later today. There's no need for such glares," Lucy scowled.
He pecked her in warning and then settled back in his perch. Ford and Snape had an unfortunate confrontation yesterday, where Snape decided that Ford was his prey at the same time that Ford decided Snape was his prey. Needless to say, Snape wasn't pleased that Lucy deprived him of a meal.
"D'you think I should get a toad next?" Lucy wondered out loud. Tom stared at her. "You know, so then I'd have the whole set. Maybe I'll get a dog, too."
"I think you have enough pets. Too many, in fact," he said dryly.
"What, you didn't have a pet?" She said it incredulously, but as she thought about it, she found that it made sense. He didn't seem the type to care for animals. He thought owls were messy enough as it was. He tolerated them because they sent mail, and even then he complained about the feathers.
"Do I seem the type?" Tom scoffed.
She stared at him. Despite just thinking that he wasn't the type, something occurred to her. A small grin pulled at her lips. "You had a toad," she said slowly, letting out a few laughs. "You had a toad, I just know it."
His indifferent expression turned shocked all of a sudden. It was always wonderful to see his stony exterior shift; the raising of his eyebrows, the parting of his lips in surprise, it made Lucy want to do a small victory dance. "How did you...?" he trailed off, furrowing his brow. "Yes, I did. Dumbledore presented it to me in my first year; he thought I'd develop a conscience. Once again, one of your ridiculous accusations manages to hold a molecule of truth. Although, any simple idiot on the planet is bound to have it right at least once."
"What was its name?" she asked him. Her tone wasn't mocking or anything. Whenever Tom went into one of his rants, she knew it was because he considered it a touchy subject. She wanted to know more about the pet of Tom Riddle.
He rolled his eyes. "Who cares?" he said, sitting on Lucy's bed. His long legs practically took up the whole thing. He put his arms behind his head as he leaned against the headboard, closing his eyes.
"I care," she replied. She brought her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. "I'm not going to laugh or anything. I think it's cute that you had a pet toad."
A sneer pulled at his lips. "Kindly never refer to me as anything like that ever again. In what world, Lucy, do you think that any male would want to be referred to as that?"
"Anthony doesn't mind," she pointed out.
"Rickett is an entity of his own and shouldn't be compared to any sensible person."
"I'm going to tell him you said that, thanks. But come on, how long did your toad live?" Lucy pressed. "You'd had to have used it in Transfiguration..."
"As if I'd test spells on my pet— I'm not so careless."
"So you cared about keeping it safe," she concluded thoughtfully.
He opened his eyes to glare at her. "Caring and respecting what's yours are two completely different things. The toad itself was as irrelevant as one of my quills, or a scroll of parchment. However, they belonged to me. I'm quite diligent with my belongings. Harming them in any way, whether it's stealing my quill or touching my toad, is a slight against me as a person."
"What I'm getting here is that you're not very good at sharing," Lucy said wryly. She remembered the memory of Tom getting his acceptance letter; how he seemed so greedy as a child. It was easy to become selfish in a place like Wool's, where everyone has had something taken from them. She was somewhat of an exception. While she'd take plants from the greenhouse, she didn't care about the objects she took, nor did she care if they left her possession. Everything she did was out of boredom. Tom, on the other hand, would take things because he wanted them. He felt entitled to them. In some cases, she found it endearing— like how he'd get furious when Anthony came into her dormitory and sat in his chair.
Tom smirked slightly. "No," he agreed. "I'm not. Nor should I be. I deserve everything I take. There'd be no better owner, whether it was for a stupid little toad or a few stolen trinkets."
Lucy nodded along like she could relate to what he was talking to, even though she definitely couldn't. She let the silence linger for a few moments before she asked, once again, "So... what was your toad's name?"
Tom scowled, closing his eyes again. He didn't dignify that with an answer.
"Come on, please?" She begged. She had to know it now. What on earth would Tom Riddle name his toad? She suspected it was an elegant name, perhaps he picked it from a wizarding book like Harry did.
"Let it go," he said with an edge to his tone.
She huffed. She couldn't count how many times he'd nagged her until she opened up about something, and yet he was suddenly touchy about a toad? Something was up, and as understanding as she usually was, she didn't like the double standard. They were supposed to be friends— keeping secrets wasn't meant to be one-sided.
She decided to go a different route. One she was certain he was familiar with. Tom was the epitome of a Slytherin, and so she couldn't rely on the ways of a Hufflepuff to quench her burning curiosity.
"What if we trade?" She suggested. In her observations of how Malfoy and his friends interacted, she found that everything they spoke about was, in one way or another, a transaction. Information for information. The Slytherins were still children who were close friends with each other, but they had their own set of rules in how they spoke. Everyone followed them, even the idiotic ones like Crabbe and Goyle.
Tom opened his eyes again. He appeared interested, if only mildly. She rarely stepped up to barter with him like a fellow snake. Usually, she didn't care enough to push matters further. Today she was feeling a bit adventurous.
"A trade," he repeated. She didn't like the smile on his face. It was one she often saw in the expressions of Wool's staff when they weren't taking her seriously.
"Yes, a trade," she said firmly. "You tell me about your first pet, and I'll tell you about... well, anything you want to know."
"Anything?"
Perhaps she should have been more specific with her wording. Tom Riddle was like a djinn when it came to striking deals; any form of opening was a chance to extract something bigger than the initial deal. Looking him in the eye, she felt as though she was facing down another lawyer in the court of law rather than trying to have a conversation with her friend.
"Within reason," she decided, eventually.
"Deal," he said, before she had a chance to take it back. "What is your worst memory?"
Oh. Damn, he decided to go right for the kill. Lucy stared at him for a few moments, stunned at the question. Her worst memory...? She had an awful lot to go through.
"Why do you want to know that?" She muttered, thinking it over at the same time. She didn't like to look back at her years at the orphanage if she could help it, and so now that she was searching through her memories, she was finding it hard to remember.
He finally sat in a proper position, leaning against the headboard with his legs crossed on the bed. "I'm curious," he said, tilting his head at her. "You're always bright and sunny— sometimes impossibly so. And yet, I've caught a glimpse of something else in you; sometimes it's a far off look. Your eyes tend to darken— sometimes I think they're black. And I don't know why. For the life of me, I've never been able to figure it out. I want to know what you thought of when those filth made you cry."
"Do you have to repeat that last part?" Lucy groaned. It was embarrassing that she cried in the first place, let alone Tom seeing her do it.
"There's no reason to feel ashamed," he said, unbothered. "If anyone has a right to see you cry, it's me." She arched an eyebrow at Tom's casual remark, but he continued on as if it was simply a fact of life. "Now tell me."
She rolled her eyes at his commanding tone. Sometimes he still sounded so much like the petulant little orphan boy she saw in his memory that she found it hard to believe that she was sitting in front of a brilliant young man.
She tried to think. When did she change for the worse? She supposed she wasn't always so independent. She liked playing with the other children and with her naturally cute demeanor, she shouldn't have had a problem fitting in. She tried to think, when had the world decided she was a freak?
And then it hit her.
"It was at Wool's," she began, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she could process them. She shot Tom a somewhat knowing look. "Obviously."
"Obviously," he agreed.
"I... used to get along with the other kids, I think. We used to play in the courtyard. They were all older than me, and while I was always a bit quiet back then, they liked me. I think... something happened?" Lucy frowned, trying to sort through the fog in her mind. "One of the other boys had a rubber spider– I was really young, five or six, and I didn't know the difference. He was older, probably twelve or thirteen. He ran at me with it and I freaked out and the next thing I knew, he went flying across the entire courtyard. He hit his head on the concrete, and there was so much blood, everyone saw it... And then I laughed at him. I thought it was a funny trick, I guess. He must have launched himself that far, right? There was no way I could've done that. Everyone started crying and they ran away from me. Jennifer Bishop was the one who started it all— she pointed at me and called me a monster."
She could remember it now, vividly. She didn't understand what'd just happened. When she was called a monster, she hadn't realized it had been directed at her; this was the turning point, but it wasn't her worst memory. This was simply the catalyst.
"Everyone avoided me after that," Lucy said, furrowing her brow. She unconsciously hugged her knees tighter. "Then they started to get braver. It was a game to them, I think— pick on the freak until it snaps and hurts them, and then they hide, and then it repeats. I tried telling on them, but the staff thought I was making it up for attention... I think Mrs. Cole believed me. She gave me my own room after I woke up with gum in my hair. They had to cut it short, I looked like a boy for ages..." She took in a deep breath, shaking her head. She was rambling now. Avoiding the real event.
"It was loads of little things over the years. They stole my dinner, my books, anything they could, really. They tripped me in the halls and whispered about me wherever I went. And then one day, when I was eight or nine, we all went to the beach. I stayed on the sand while they all played in the water; I couldn't swim. Then one of the older boys came up to me."
She remembered his face; his sandy brown hair was dripping wet from the water, and he had come over to her with such a bright smile on his face. She'd winced at the time— she expected an insult or a mocking remark. But to her utter surprise, and childish delight, he'd offered his hand to her. 'Come with me,' he'd said eagerly. 'I want to play with you.'
"I followed him a little ways. He went onto the dock and I had to stop- I didn't want to fall in. He told me he'd make sure I didn't fall... and I guess that was enough for me." She laughed bitterly now. How excited she'd been to make a friend! She thought her years of ridicule were finally over. "I was standing with him at the end of the dock. It was quite long and I reckon we weren't meant to be on it. He looked off the edge and said, 'If she sinks, she's a witch'! And then he threw me into the water."
Tom's entire body seemed to still. She spared him a quick glance, but she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. She hated this memory; it'd been the source of many of her nightmares... but if anyone had to hear it, Tom Riddle was the best option... He wasn't like her other friends. He understood. Harry grew up in a terrible, neglectful household; he too had been bullied by his cousins. Lucy wouldn't say his situation was any better than hers. And yet, he at least knew why he was there, he knew who he was; he knew that he had parents who had once loved him with all their hearts. Lucy wanted that knowledge, though she resigned to herself ages ago that she'd never have it.
"I don't suppose you've ever drowned," she said quietly, clenching her knees harder. "The current was strong and I sank to the bottom. It was terrifying. I could feel myself dying. No one helped me. I... I was officially dead for a minute, and when they finally managed to bring me back, I realized a few things. No one would know that I left. No one would have even cared. I was just some orphan named Lucille, another mouth to feed along with loads of other children..." She chuckled a bit, shaking her head. "I guess it might've been a good thing. After that, I stopped caring. Nobody wanted me, so what was stopping me? I could do anything I wanted. I could take whatever I wanted. No one would care one way or another. Someone tried to adopt me once and I hid for three whole weeks and no one could do a thing about it. I was just Lucille and nobody could tell her what to do."
Now that she finished with her story, she realized that she hadn't changed very much after all. She still did whatever she wanted without any regard for the rules. Half of what she did was because it simply amused her... And did she really find it that fun, at the end of the day? Occasionally, but only when she had someone to share her joy with.
She thought about the other half of her motivations. The newer half. One thing she'd never get tired of was helping her friends. She could scarcely believe she had as many as she did right now. She'd lost some, certainly, but the ones who believed in her... she couldn't imagine a life without them.
Perhaps there was some merit in her memories after all. The Lucille who drowned was not the Lucy that surfaced. And the Lucy that surfaced was in no way comparable to who she'd become. She wasn't just Lucille. She was Lucy Rochester, and while she had loads more to learn, she found she was able to care a lot more than she thought she did.
Lucy loosened her grip on her knees. She looked over at Tom, and she smiled. "Pleasant story, yeah?"
He was not smiling.
Ah. She should have known he wouldn't have reacted well. As much as she annoyed him sometimes, Tom was awfully tetchy when it came to the two of them. In his eyes, he was the only one allowed to scorn her— and in a weird way, she returned that sentiment. She could call him a lame little git all she wanted, but the moment someone else decided to have a go at him... she'd burn them.
"And... did you get your revenge?" Tom said, struggling to keep his voice level. His eyes practically burned with rage. Yeesh, good thing Lucy didn't mention the loads of other instances of the older kids beating her up...
"Oh, yes. I laid cactus spikes in the boys' bed. They cried really loud when the staff had to help them get the spikes out." She laughed at the memory. Vengeance wasn't always in good taste, but boy was it refreshing. "After that, I sort of upped the 'freak factor' in everything I did. Making objects fly around the room was loads of fun— but oddly enough, it was making the lights flicker that scared them the most."
Despite himself, Tom had to smirk. He enjoyed terrorizing muggle children under any circumstances, but especially revenge. "Does the boy still attend the orphanage?"
"No, he was adopted. Merlin knows why. I wouldn't want an idiot like that for my kid."
"Good riddance," Tom muttered. He unclenched his fists, which he hadn't realized had been so tightly balled up. He met Lucy's gaze and searched her for any hint of distress. Oddly enough, talking about it seemed to have diminished the terrible quality of her memory entirely. She wouldn't go around repeating it, but she didn't mind it anymore.
"If you'd have asked me when I was fourteen, I'd have had a similar story," Tom said, somewhat dryly. "During my first year at Hogwarts, my fellow Slytherins didn't take too kindly to what they supposed was a 'Mudblood' in Slytherin. Especially since I overshadowed them in all our classes."
Lucy perked up immediately. She thought he was going to give her the name of his toad and nothing more; but evidently, her deeply personal story stirred something within him. She felt herself grow excited at the notion. For once it seemed like there wasn't a transaction going on. They were just two friends having a conversation.
"They cornered me in an empty corridor during my second month... And while I was leagues above them, even I couldn't have been prepared for the curses of three older Purebloods."
Tom spoke casually, like he might as well have been commenting on the weather. Lucy knew he was long past any lingering anger, or else he wouldn't have shared it with her. She appreciated his trust in her all the same.
"I went to Dumbledore," he continued, sneering at the thought. "I supposed I had some faith in him at the time... he made me have tea with him every week. I told him what the older boys were doing to me... And do you know what he told me, Lucy? He told me that he couldn't do anything unless I had proof. That I should've found him as soon as it happened instead of the day after. It was then that I realized that Albus Dumbledore regarded me as something less than a child... I can only hope he doesn't treat you the same..." he scoffed, shaking his head. "How curious is it, Lucy, that he calls in Aurors for something that may involve you and I, and yet not when someone explicitly tried to kill you? I think that in itself is very telling for how Dumbledore feels about you."
Her once lighter mood soured at his words. She hadn't thought of it that way. And she could just imagine that cute little boy nervously sat in front of his professor. How Tom must have had to put his pride to the side as he revealed that he was being bullied. Only to be dismissed. It was... very discouraging, actually.
She didn't want to dislike Dumbledore. He had undoubtedly helped many people in his lifetime, including Harry. He introduced her to the wizarding world, and for that she would always respect him. She knew he cared about the students inside the castle. And yet... every time he looked at her, she felt like he wasn't seeing her. He was seeing something else, something that he didn't trust. Unless he was seeing her, which implied she wasn't someone to be trusted? Either thought was upsetting, and Tom's insistence that Dumbledore didn't like her only further distanced her from the old man.
"I'd have ruined those boys," she said darkly, staring at a spot on the wooden floor.
"And I'd have ruined yours," Tom returned, smirking. "I'm almost excited to find your assailant— it will be so much fun to get my hands on them..."
"You and me both," she agreed.
"So you died?" He'd been sort of jittery ever since she brought it up. Looking at her with anticipation. "How did it feel?"
"Uh..." She thought about it, trying to pin the likeness of it to something else. She wouldn't compare it to unconsciousness, where at least your mind could wander. "I'd reckon it's sort of like... not existing. It was so short that I can't say with any certainty that I remember it. Why? Are you planning on dying anytime soon?"
He started laughing, as if she'd told him the funniest joke in the world. She hadn't expected the sudden noise to break through the quiet atmosphere the two of them had created; she shot him a strange look.
He collected himself quickly. "Quite the opposite, actually," he said, and he left it at that.
Three sharp knocks sounded on the door, drawing both of their attention.
"Class starts in five minutes, Lucy!" Daisy called, sounding breathless. "Don't mind the mess in the common room— Rickett and Maxine have to clean it up, don't help them."
She was totally going to help them.
"Alright, thank you!" Lucy called back. Her hair was still dripping wet. She thought about doing something with it and then decided she liked how stupid it looked. Besides, drying it would show the blue, almost seaweed green tint more clearly.
She darted over to her desk and dropped a few books into her school bag. Graybie tried to sneak inside but Lucy quickly put an end to that and set him on her bed instead. The small cat settled himself at the foot of the bed, simultaneously laying inside Tom's leg. He sneered at the sight.
"Time flies when you share villain backstories, doesn't it?" She said with a slight laugh. He made a noise of acknowledgment, and she didn't look behind her as she headed for the door.
As her hand grabbed the doorknob, he spoke.
"I named it Merope," he said, almost too quietly for her to hear.
When she looked behind her, he was gone.
She smiled to herself. Although he wasn't here, she knew he was listening.
"I think that's a lovely name."
Her first few classes passed by easily, and once lunchtime rolled around, she decided she wanted to spend her time in the library. As much as she loved her common room, eating meals there wasn't ideal. She only had herself to blame for that but she might as well get some homework done in the meantime.
She spent the hour working quietly on her long-procrastinated Potions essay. You'd think having a potions prodigy in your pocket would make the subject marginally more bearable, and yet she hated it just as much as she had last year. A few other students were working nearby, most of them in their fifth or sixth year. Percy was certainly working hard in the seat across from her, muttering facts under his breath.
"Have you tried flashcards?" She asked, as he lost his place in his scroll of parchment for the fifth time.
Percy didn't even hear her at first, but he looked up, blinking at her. "Er— what?"
"Flashcards," she repeated. "You know, little cards of paper. You write the information on one side and name it on the other." He stared at her, utterly lost. She looked at him with surprise. Was that not a wizard thing? Anthony knew how to use them, but then again, he was friends with a few muggleborns. "It's a good way to quiz yourself. Here, like this—"
She pulled a scroll of parchment out of her bag. She muttered a cutting spell that Tom taught her and made the paper take shape into smaller rectangles. Then, pulling out a red pen, she scrawled down '1717'. On the other side, she wrote, 'Unforgivable curses are established'. It was admittedly a darker piece of information than she would have given, but she'd written the first thing that came to mind.
She showed Percy the card. "Quick, easy, and you won't lose your place." He was staring at the card with no emotion. She worried that she annoyed him and hastened to add, "at least that's just what other people do—"
"That. Is..." his eyes widened, and he sucked in a deep breath. "Brilliant, actually. Was that a normal form of study at your muggle school?" He struggled to regain his composure, but she could see him scrawl a note on a spare piece of parchment.
The thought of anyone needing to study for a test at Wool's was laughable. Their schooling system wasn't known for its brilliance. "Er— at mine it wasn't so important, but yeah, it's normal." She slid the card toward him. "You can keep it, if you want. For reference."
"Yes, thank you Lucy— and what was that spell?"
She told him the spell, and then they spent a while talking about different study methods. Eventually the topic of her third year came up, where Percy posed her with a question she hadn't even thought of yet.
"Have you thought about what classes you'll take next year?"
It was Lucy's turn to blink in surprise. Because as much time as she'd spent learning magic with Tom, she hadn't even thought about that. Percy took her befuddled expression as an answer and smiled knowingly. "Yes, neither have most of your friends. I heard from Professor Flitwick that they'll start handing out the forms tomorrow— have you thought of what you want to do?"
"...What are the options?"
He gave her a summary of each subject, going into just enough detail for her to grasp it, yet leaving enough for her to decide whether or not she found it interesting. Muggle Studies was out, she knew that much. She'd already lived with them for eleven years, she didn't need to think about them more than necessary... She liked the sound of Divination. Tom thought it was a load of nonsense, but she thought it seemed interesting and she liked the theory behind it. Arithmancy sounded difficult and not particularly fun, but it might be useful to know later in life.
"What do you think I should pick?" she asked after he finished explaining. Her head was spinning with possibilities. She'd have to take these classes for perhaps the rest of her Hogwarts career— she didn't want to choose wrong.
Percy smiled, presumably because someone asked for his opinion. He drew his shoulders up and looked at her. "Whatever you like," he answered simply. Lucy stared at him. That wasn't the answer she expected from Percy Weasley of all people; usually he was always the first to insert his opinion. He chuckled at her expression. "With Ron I'd worry a bit more, he does like to slack off, but you have a good head on your shoulders. You shouldn't let other people influence your decisions about your own future. What do you think is interesting?"
"Uh... Divination," she admitted, somewhat hesitantly. She hoped to Merlin that Tom wasn't eavesdropping right now. He hadn't taken Divination while he was in Hogwarts, and he mostly regarded it as the same as Muggle Studies— a waste of a class.
"Divination is a fine choice. It's not all crystal ball reading— although Professor Trelawney does seem to favor it. Third year's work is light, but be prepared for more advanced study in the following years. As dazed as people think Professor Trelawney is, she's strict with her schoolwork."
Lucy had to get her hands on a Divination book and soon. The thought of reading the future excited her. Even if it turned out to be a load of nonsense, at least she'd have fun. "Care of Magical Creatures sounds fun too," she continued, more brightly than before. "And Ancient Runes. But so does Arithmancy..."
"You can take four, but you won't have a free hour like you ordinarily would. Any more classes, and you'd have to use a time turner," Percy joked.
She laughed even though she didn't know what he meant by that. "I guess I'll have a busy year then. Thanks, Percy— I needed the advice."
He smiled at her, and she smiled back.
She packed up her things shortly after. She had about ten minutes until her next class and if she could help it, she wanted to check on Ford. He had one too many eggs, and he'd been groaning about it all of last night. She'd just rounded the corner from the library when she ran into a huge, hard surface.
She stumbled backward in surprise, tripping on her feet. Just before she fell, a ginormous hand wrapped around her arm. A crash rang shortly after and she could see a load of baskets fall to the ground.
"Oops, sorry abou' that." Hagrid smiled down at her sheepishly. "Alrigh', Lucy?"
"Fine, Hagrid," she said with a grin, picking up some of the baskets. The cover was closed on all of them, yet there were a lot, even for someone as big as Hagrid. For a moment she forgot that he was involved in the Chamber's opening, and when she remembered, she felt awfully guilty. He was so kind that even if his spider had killed that student fifty years ago, it still wouldn't make him a bad person. "Can I help you carry these? Looks like a lot..."
"You won' be late for yer next class, will yeh?" Hagrid said with a frown.
"Probably, but it's Professor Sprout. She won't mind."
"Well, if yeh insis'..."
She was somewhat surprised he gave in so easily. Perhaps he really had been struggling to carry all of them. Funny, as Lucy picked up the basket, they felt surprisingly light. "What's in here anyway, Hagrid?" She asked him as they began walking through the corridors. They were making a good pace since the load was split between them.
"Sulfur," he answered, walking a bit faster. "Dumbledore's phoenix has jus' been reborn, yeh see... Fawkes needs ter get his feathers in. Sulfur helps."
She was glad Hagrid was walking ahead of her, because then he couldn't see how the smile slid off her face. "So... we're going to Professor Dumbledore's office, then?" She felt somewhat faint.
"Yeah, the soon'r the better. Fawkes's been slowin' his growth this cycle."
Why did she have to be so helpful? Lucy cursed herself to the moon in back as she followed Hagrid to Dumbledore's office. This was just peachy.
She tried to remind herself that there wasn't any evidence she did anything. She was in the Great Hall, the same as everyone else. And she had a good balance of getting into trouble and staying out of it recently. Showing up with Hagrid could help her image too...
'Help her image', she sounded like a Slytherin right now. Just as well: Slytherins tended to get away with their crimes. She walked as normally as possible behind Hagrid, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this journey seemed more like a death march.
"Er— Lemon Drop," Hagrid tried once they reached the Gargoyle. Nothing happened.
"Bertie Bott's?" Lucy tried. She did a mental victory dance when the Gargoyle jumped to the side before she realized that she didn't want to go into Dumbledore's office. She sighed. Curse herself.
Hagrid moved his baskets to one arm before rapping on the door.
"Come in, please," Dumbledore's voice sounded.
Lucy focused on clearing her expression one last time, and then she followed Hagrid into the office.
It was the same as the last time. She made a point of letting her eyes wander to the most flashy items in his office, such as the orb containing the night's sky on the shelf behind him.
Dumbledore looked at her with surprise. "Well— hello, Lucy. Shouldn't you be in class?"
"She was helpin' me, Professor," Hagrid explained, setting the baskets near Fawkes's perch. Lucy followed suit and then stood somewhat awkwardly beside Hagrid. Should she leave now..? "Nearly spilt the sulfur, if it wasn' for her," he chuckled.
"I think I was the one who crashed into you, so it was because of me," Lucy corrected with a smile. "You know me, Hagrid. Spreading joy... wherever I go..." she trailed off with an awkward chuckle. A practiced awkward chuckle, mind you— while she was nervous, she had to showcase the right kind of nervous, like a student worried about being late for her next class. She hoped it was landing well on her audience.
"That's you, alright," Hagrid laughed.
Dumbledore chuckled as well. He waved his wand, and a larger chair appeared in front of his desk. "Well, I am never one to turn away from company. I've found that the most remarkable of visits are the spontaneous ones. Might you two like to join me for a cup of tea and biscuits?"
Hmm... tea with Dumbledore, an all-knowing wizard who she stole from, who had the power to expel her... or Herbology. With the Slytherins.
Lucy weighed her options.
And then she found herself following Hagrid to the front of Dumbledore's desk.
"I won't get detention for missing Herbology, will I, Professor?" Lucy made sure as she sat in front of him.
Dumbledore gave her a knowing look. He, of all people, knew how many detentions she'd gotten throughout the year. It was still less than last year... but not by much. "I'm sure Pomona will understand," he replied. "As long as you and I don't tell Minerva, I think we both shall survive a little bit of... 'playing hooky', I think it's called?"
She tried not to laugh at the phrase coming out of Dumbledore's mouth.
No matter what Tom thought about the man, she couldn't deny that he was funny.
"How was your trip to the dragon colony, Rubeus?" Dumbledore asked as he poured them each a cup of tea.
The visit was, surprisingly, pleasant. Apparently Hagrid had been away for the past few weeks visiting the dragon conservatory up in Romania— he was visiting Charlie Weasley, and from the sound of it, he had a wonderful trip. The brightness in his eyes as he recounted how he'd gotten to touch a dragon and how beautiful Norberta was, she found his happiness absolutely infectious. That was where he'd gotten all this sulfur. Lucy was once again reminded of how much she enjoyed talking to Hagrid. With all the chaos of this year added with her knowledge of his expulsion, she hadn't gotten around to visiting his hut.
Hagrid mentioned how Ginny and her friend Luna visited him every week, which Lucy was very pleased to hear. At least he wasn't left without company... She'd have to bring Harry by sometime, no matter what Chamber business might be going on.
She'd been so enraptured by Hagrid's stories that she forgot she was an active member in the room, until Dumbledore addressed her.
"And you, Lucy? How have you been finding your second year at Hogwarts?"
She shot him a brilliant smile. "I'm having a great time, Professor."
She wondered vaguely if she was supposed to act more afraid. If she was, Dumbledore didn't show it. He smiled and said, "I'm glad to hear that, despite what unfortunate circumstances we find ourselves in. And you're well? There hasn't been... any other complications?"
In short, he was politely asking if she'd been nearly killed recently. She smiled, somewhat wryly. "Not that I've noticed, anyway. My friends and I are nothing if not diligent. Although I'm finding the Chamber opening and having a separate stalker after me a bit unfair. Whatever happened to spacing it out?"
More amusement from the Headmaster. Lucy was nothing if not entertainment.
At that moment, Hagrid glanced at the clock and started in surprise. ""Scuse me, Professor, Lucy— it's feeding time fer the new roosters..."
"It's no problem, Hagrid. I think Lucy and I can fill the rest of the hour ourselves."
Lucy smiled politely in agreement.
Internally, she screamed.
It was all fun and games while Hagrid was around as a buffer, but facing Dumbledore alone? For twenty more minutes? It sounded impossible. She knew she could do it but she definitely wasn't looking forward to it. Guilt was so hard sometimes.
"Bye, Hagrid," Lucy called after him. What she meant was, COME BACK!
He gave her a heart wave as he left.
She took a mental breath in before turning back to face Dumbledore. He was sipping at his tea, his gaze focused on Fawkes behind her. The phoenix was fast asleep in his perch.
"Where did you get your phoenix, Professor?" Lucy asked him. It was the first thing that'd come to mind, something that would stray away from her activities during the school year. Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes travelled over to her. He smiled, setting his teacup down.
"Fawkes was given to me by a dear friend of mine," he answered. "He saved Fawkes from a wandmaker, who was using Fawkes's feathers. I am sure the wandmaker meant well for wizardkind, but the pleas of animals are sometimes impossible to ignore. Fawkes and I have been great friends ever since." He looked admiringly on at his bird, who in turn cawed back at him. "I trust your cat is still doing well?"
"He's still a cat, so I suppose that attests to your Transfiguration skills," she grinned and then froze. "Grayble won't turn back into a bed frame, will he, Professor?"
"I don't believe he will. But should it happen, I am only a letter away," he assured her.
She almost laughed at the mental image of having to write to Dumbledore at some point in the future, perhaps after she graduated, because her cat had decided to turn back into a bed frame.
Still, pets were a safe subject. Pets were interesting and yet impersonal. Lucy decided to stick with it. "I'm thinking of getting a toad," she offered, thinking of Tom's story. He claimed he didn't care about it, but come on, if he thought the toad was a waste he would have simply gotten rid of it.
Dumbledore's eyes flickered with something. If she hadn't been watching closely for it, she might have missed it. She slipped up somewhere— drew suspicion. But how? It was just a toad.
Tom owned a toad, you dolt, a voice in her head hissed at her. She bit back a scowl. Of course. If she had anything in common with Tom Riddle, it wouldn't go unnoticed.
"If it's not against the rules," she added, pretending that was the reason for Dumbledore's slight pause.
He took her opening and shook his head graciously. "Ah, the pet rules are rarely enforced anymore. Lee Jordan showed me the most precious species of tarantula the other day— Hagrid was especially pleased."
Another test. Hagrid and spiders in the same sentence... She wondered if she was reading too much into it, if Tom had made her too paranoid, but she knew it was better to be safe than sorry.
She looked thoughtfully onward, sipping at her tea. "I've never minded spiders much, but I'd rather have them as neighbors than a pet. Plus, Lee's tried to prank me with his spider one too many times for me to like it."
Dumbledore seemed to relax, and then so did Lucy. Test passed! She was so relieved that she could sing.
The rest of the time passed easily, and while she was still on edge, she wasn't hyperfocusing on every single word. She told him about her most recent detention, which had been on account of her accidentally spilling her potion on Snape. Okay, maybe accidentally was a bit of a lie— but she had to get into some amount of trouble, and one bad potions mark wasn't going to ruin her countless other perfect grades. Dumbledore warned her to be more careful, but there wasn't any mistaking the amused gleam in his eye.
She also asked him about each of the elective courses. She had a good idea of what she wanted to take, but she wouldn't pass up a chance to get extra information. In doing so, she found out that Dumbledore had taken Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Alchemy when he attended Hogwarts. She was surprised that Alchemy had been an option, but it made sense, and if she was any good at that sort of stuff, she'd have liked to take it as well.
In turn, he told her a few stories. None of them were overly extravagant, but all of them were interesting. His stories ranged from domestic meetings with fellow powerful wizards and witches to an account of his place in one of his battles during the Grindelwald era— a battle where Fawkes had flown in to assist him at the last moment. She hadn't expected such an epic story from him, but she was pleased all the same. The Headmaster was even so kind as to remove the blue tint from her hair with a wave of his wand.
She was almost disappointed when the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
'Almost' was the key word.
Dumbledore looked up in surprise when the bell rang, and then he laughed to himself. "How odd that time seems to fly during only the most pleasant of times. Thank you for joining me, Lucy— we must do this again."
"Definitely, Professor," she returned easily. She hoped the next time they met, she wouldn't have to pretend quite so much. It did get a bit tiring at times. She bid him one last farewell, and then she went on her way.
She had just left Dumbledore's office when Tom appeared in front of her. His sudden appearance startled her, and she jerked backward in surprise. It'd been hours since he'd surfaced and she thought he hadn't even been listening.
"Well, where were you when all that happened?" Lucy huffed at him. She had the decency to speak in Parseltongue, although she was tempted not to. Of all the times she could have used Tom's guidance, he decided to stay silent. She shot him a glare and then walked through him.
He matched her pace easily. "You needed to focus." She didn't slow down. He scoffed, clearly wanting to stop her but without any way to do it. "You're being childish." Still no response. He growled, then quickly changed his tone to something more flattering. "You were doing completely fine on your own... Wonderfully, in fact." Oh, now he lays on the flattery! Again, she ignored him. Tom growled again, louder. "If I'd have appeared, you'd have glanced in my direction and that would've been enough to draw his suspicion. It was bad enough you mentioned wanting a toad!"
She stopped and glared at him, indignant. "It was a harmless remark! S'not my fault he thinks that you're the only one allowed to want a toad!"
"Lucy? Is that you hissing over there?"
Her head snapped toward the end of the corridor. She was relieved to see that it was just Anthony. Thank merlin; she did not need to deal with any more rumors. She turned to glare at Tom again as if to say now look what you've done.
He mustered all of his 'I'm older and more mature than you' energy, straightening up his posture. "This conversation isn't over," he told her, and then he disappeared once again.
She pushed her irritation aside as she turned to face Anthony. He looked worried.
"Hannah said you weren't in Herbology— one of the Weasels said you might be around here."
Ah, yes. The all knowing Weasley twins.
"I'm alright, Anth. I was just having tea with Dumbledore," she assured him, falling into step beside him as they walked toward the Hufflepuff common room. It was a good ways away, so in the meantime they could chat. She hated to admit it, but she'd kind of been treating him differently for the past few days— the sight of the scar on his cheek made her feel all kinds of guilty, so she'd worked on bringing him his favorite snacks and nudging him in Daisy's direction to make up for it. Heck, she even arm-wrestled Maxine for his amusement. Her arm still hurt from it.
His eyebrows shot upward. "Tea with Dumbledore?" He let out a low whistle. "Wow. That's rare."
"You know me, I'm as rare as it gets," she said wryly.
"That you are," he chuckled. He cleared his throat then, glancing around them for any bystanders. Since there were no classrooms, and it was break, there weren't any. "I've been wanting to ask you... And this is in no way me being accusing or anything, but let me know if I'm right... Did you cast that spell in the Great Hall?"
Well.
Shit.
Lucy stared at him, but it only took a second for her to decide that no, she was not going to lie to Anthony. This boy was one of her best friends and damn what Tom thought, she could trust him. She nodded her head, not wanting to say the words out loud. "I'm really sorry about your face—" she began quickly.
He waved off her apologies with a grin. "Aw, I'm not fussing about that. It's just a little scratch and if anything, it makes me look cooler." He pointed to the faint white line on his face which was, admittedly, smaller than she thought. "However, that was a mighty intense spell, paired with what I can only assume are Weasley fireworks... So, my dear Lucy, I need to know— why the distraction?"
Right now, Lucy was pretty confident in her decision-making skills. She'd just survived an hour long meeting with Dumbledore, who she regarded as one of the most perceptive people she'd ever met. And if she could trust anyone else other than Ron, Harry, and Hermione, it was without a doubt Anthony. He had a good head on his shoulders and despite his dramatics, she knew him to take everything with a grain of thought. He thought things through, more than what Daisy would ever suspect. He was practical. She trusted him.
"Alright..." She had to find a place to even start. "You got a minute?"
Anthony grinned, with a touch of relief; he must've thought she would keep it to herself. "I've got loads," he assured her.
He led her to an empty classroom. These were shaping up to be some of the best spots to share secrets. She was immensely glad for their existence. Once they closed and locked the door behind them, Lucy sat down at the teacher's desk. She grinned and gestured for Anthony to pull up a chair in front of her.
"What are we learning today, Professor Rochester?" Anthony asked with mock-eagerness.
Lucy folded her hands on the desk. "We're sharing overly complicated schemes and investigations today, Mr. Rickett!" She said, equally as enthusiastic. She dropped the tone, but her voice was still light and casual. "So— obviously you know all about this Chamber nonsense, right?"
"Right," Anthony confirmed. "And what terrible nonsense it is!"
"Terrible!" she agreed. "As you know, I am friends with Harry Potter, the nosiest boy on earth." Anthony nodded along. "Me, Ron, Harry, and Hermione have all been investigating it. Like, really investigating. Hermione made Polyjuice potion to interrogate Malfoy on Christmas."
He looked at her with pure shock. "Hermione made Polyjuice potion?!" He sounded impressed. "Hell, even I can't make Polyjuice potion! D'you think she could make me some?"
"You'll have to take that up with her." She didn't know what her friend would do with Polyjuice potion but something told her it wouldn't be anything good. "Anyway, Malfoy didn't do it. He's too dumb for something like that. So we were back to square one. And then I got the idea to steal records from someone's office..." She gave Anthony a pointed stare, making the motion of stroking a long beard. His eyes widened in realization. "Yup. Hence the big distraction."
"And... did it work? You got the records?"
"Yep. I have them right now, in fact." She wasn't too worried of being searched for them, since her satchel had a protective charm on it that needed a password. She muttered the password, opened it, and then handed the records over to Anthony.
She waited patiently as he read over them. Her least favorite part was where it said Hagrid's name. On cue, Anthony's brow furrowed. "Hagrid? That can't be right..." he muttered to himself, shaking his head. He continued on, oddly silent for once. He reached Tom Riddle's written account.
He was silent for a few minutes afterward.
Lucy waited for him to collect his thoughts. She was eager to hear his thoughts on the matter. Anthony was sharp, the top of his year if she recalled. He once told her that he'd nearly been put in Ravenclaw, but it was by the skin of his neck that he was sorted into Hufflepuff instead.
"Hagrid can't be doing the attacks now," Anthony said at last, looking up at Lucy.
"What do you mean?"
He glanced at the clock and frowned. "Let's talk and walk at the same time, shall we? The others will be worried if we're not back soon."
He held the door open for Lucy on the way out and then they walked together, Anthony deep in thought the entire time. "Hagrid can't have done it this time," he repeated. "For one, he'd never lay a finger on any animal, let alone muggleborns. Maybe his pet Acromantula got out of hand last time around, but this time there's been a note targeting muggleborns. No one knows much about Acromantulas, but that's because they're so hard to control or even get near. A person had to have written that warning on the wall. And honestly, looking at this Riddle guy, I'm not sure how much I believe him."
Lucy looked at him, stricken. She actually stopped in her tracks. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well, it's just his word, isn't it? There's no proof Hagrid's pet killed anyone in the first place. This Riddle guy probably got caught up in his search for glory and turned in the first suspicious bloke he came across. Kind of sounds like a nonce, honestly."
"He is not a nonce!" Lucy said, offended on Tom's behalf. Okay, yeah, he was a nonce, but only she had the basis to call him that. No one else.
"How do you know?" Anthony looked amused at how defensive she looked. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she glared up at him sternly.
"Tom Riddle went to my Orphanage," she revealed. It was about all she could tell him without sounding weirdly obsessed. "Mrs. Cole told me all about him."
"Luce, I think you're brilliant, but just because this guy went to your orphanage doesn't make him less of a nonce. Just look at his writing! He's full of himself."
She glared even more. She was less angry and more annoyed, like how Ron got annoyed at Percy. "He has loads of awards," she argued further. "He was Head Boy and he was voted Most Admirable Student by the entire school."
"Oh. I see what's happening." A smug look appeared on Anthony's face, and he slung an arm around her shoulders. "Someone's got a crush?"
Ugh! Why had she told Anthony anything in the first place! Lucy rolled her eyes. "Wow. You caught me. I, Lucy Rochester, have a crush on a guy who was alive fifty years ago. You really hit the nail on the head on this one, Anth."
"What do you expect me to think? Look at him! He's the most handsome bloke I've ever seen, and I look in the mirror at least ten times per day." He picked the photo out of the records and waved it in front of Lucy's face.
Scowling, she reached for it. He pulled it out of her reach. "I swear to god Anthony, if you wreck it—"
"You're not helping your case!" Anthony laughed, waving the photo.
"It's not that, I have to return those eventually!"
He snorted, but he put the photo back with the records anyway. It was a simple one of Tom, taken while he was in front of the trophy case. At the time, his award was front and center, and he smiled with a set of pearly white teeth at the camera. The candlelight even reflected off his badge.
Okay, he did kind of look like a nonce.
Still.
"Yeah, you'll put it back... You're definitely keeping the photo," Anthony muttered, grinning.
"I regret knowing you," she informed him.
"C'mon, Luce! It's rare I get to tease you about something. Maybe I should insult Tommy-Boy more often if it gets you so angry," he snickered, poking her cheek. She batted his hand away. "See? You're livid! It's quite funny."
"Yes, I'm sure." She stowed the records in her satchel again, and then she strode ahead of Anthony, much like she'd done to Tom earlier that day.
He jogged alongside her. "You're feisty," he pointed out. She ignored him. "You've got to see it from my point of view! Usually nothing bothers you— but one little mention about this pretty-boy nonce of yours, and you're glaring at me like a tiger!"
She automatically glared at his choice of words, before catching herself. Damn. She really was annoyed, wasn't she? Well, she had a right to be: she was the one who'd have to deal with Tom complaining about this later tonight.
"He's like your own Gilderoy Lockhart," Anthony teased further.
She could have danced in joy when she spotted Daisy outside the Hufflepuff common room.
"Daisy! Anthony's being a menace!" She called down the corridor, running toward the red-haired girl. She wrapped her arms around Daisy's waist, hugging her. "Please save me!"
Daisy chuckled, pulling back to inspect Lucy's expression. She raised her eyebrows. "Wow, he really did annoy you." She looked at Anthony with shock. "You're that bored? That you'd go after your own kid?"
"Don't question my parenting!" Anthony shouted.
She arched an eyebrow at him. He cowered, laughing nervously. "Uh, I mean, thank you for the insight, Daisy-Dearest... I will take it into consideration..."
Daisy shook her head lightly. "If he gets too bad, just hit him," she said as she fondly patted Lucy on the head. "I'm about to get snacks from the kitchens— you two head inside and make yourself comfortable, alright?"
"Thank you, Daisy," Lucy and Anthony chorused in equally adoring tones.
Man, Daisy was great.
Once she left and the corridors were deserted, Anthony walked up to Lucy with a slightly more serious expression. "I am glad you told me about this. It means a lot that you trust me," he insisted. After last year, was the unspoken sentence.
"Of course I trust you." Lucy's gaze softened. She hugged Anthony's arm as she smiled up at him. "You're one of my best friends... I should have filled you in earlier, honestly. There's just..." she made a vague hand gesture that was completely nonsensical, but he nodded his head as though he understood.
"A lot going on," he finished. "It's good that you told me. Now I can help you out. You and your friends are plenty smart, but there's no such thing as too many helping hands, at least when it comes to stuff like this. I'm warning you now, I am going to fill Daisy and the rest of our Quidditch team in on this."
She wasn't opposed to the idea, but she was certainly surprised. "Why is that?" she wondered.
"There's a few things I want to look into. Honestly, I should have been trying to help ages ago— it just never occurred to me, since I'm a student. It just goes to show what new friends can teach you." He smiled at Lucy again. "You won't have to worry about this information getting anywhere else. Herbert's not the greatest Keeper of Quidditch, but he's damn good at keeping secrets. We'll all pitch in, see what we can come up with... It might be good to follow the line of Slytherin. See who comes up."
...Now that was a brilliant idea.
Why hadn't she thought of that?
Enemies of the Heir, Beware. Of course Slytherin's lineage had to be recorded somewhere. Anthony caught her moment of realization, and he held up a hand to stop her train of thought. "It may not even be the Heir. Slytherin's ideology has been popular for centuries, and anyone can act out on it. And the ancient pureblood families aren't always fully recorded. They like to omit any impurities, which in turn disregards any possible magical offspring, and... Well, leave the Pureblood logistics to Herbert and I."
"Anthony, you're so bloody smart," Lucy whispered to herself.
"Well, I was almost a Ravenclaw," he winked. "I'll look into Tommy-boy too, while I'm at it." She was immediately annoyed. "Aw, don't give me that. We've got to cover all our bases! I'll try not to go too hard on that nonce of yours..."
"Of mine. You're not allowed to insult him," Lucy said as she jabbed her finger at his chest.
"You know what, I don't believe you called dibs."
"He went to my Orphanage, I take responsibility. Do you want to duel, Rickett? Is that what's about to happen right now?"
"Ordinarily I would say no, but good Merlin did Tommy have a nice arse..."
"That is so gross, Anthony!"
"My eyesight does not lie to me, Lucille!"
"For the love of God, never say anything like that to me again— I'll have nightmares—"
Daisy's voice broke through the air, loud and incredulous. "Are you two still going at it?!" she demanded, striding toward them. Loads of platters containing snacks levitated behind them.
At once, Lucy and Anthony jumped apart, folding their hands behind their back. "No, ma'am..." they said solemnly.
Daisy's eye twitched. "If you keep it up, there'll be no snacks for either of you. Got it?"
"Yes, ma'am..." they repeated.
Daisy's gaze was unrelenting. She stared them down as if she could spot any trace of deception. After about thirty seconds, Lucy chanced a glance at Anthony. Only to see him pulling the silliest face possible.
She broke, bursting out into laughter that he soon joined in. Daisy growled to herself, grabbing each of their wrists as she tugged them toward the common room.
"Absolute children..."