The Head girl had spent the whole day decorating the Great Hall with a couple of voluntary prefects. The five of them made a pretty good team. Lupin, Fawley, and she were creative and artistic. For their parts, Anderson and Wright were inventive and had very great ideas. The result was absolutely breathtaking.
A very realistic gigantic acromantula was sitting on its web, watching over the teacher's table. It was a fake – obviously – but Anderson had magically enchanted it so it seemed astonishingly menacing. Bats were flying around and some enchanted skeletons would be wandering between the tables, serving drinks. For the drawing, they had chosen the easy way. They magically carved numbers into pumpkins and put them in the middle of every eight-people round table. The Great Hall looked completely different with so many tables instead of four.
Mother Nature had also done her part since the sky had been dark and cloudy all day long. With the candles and the pumpkins, the room was uninviting and scary, but it was Halloween, after all.
Yasmina closed the gigantic doors – to keep the decoration a surprise – and thanked the voluntary prefects who had spent most of their day off to help her. "Thank you, everyone. We did a great job! I can't wait to see the students discover the room tonight. Let's go change and we'll meet later."
On her way back to her quarters, Yasmina didn't see anyone. With a twinge in her heart, she thought of Mary and Eve who were getting ready in their dormitory. The Head girl had to get ready alone, because since last Saturday at the Quidditch match, she wasn't welcome in the girls' dormitory anymore.
And this was all Riddle's fault.
Yasmina had tried to talk to Mary after the match, just like she did right after Hogsmeade, but she wasn't compliant this time. It was a nightmare. Mary had ignored that Hadrian's affection for her was renowned around the school. Consequently, Mary said she "needed time" and that Hadrian and her would spend the next weeks trying to repair their relationship, and if Yasmina wanted to remain friends with them, she had to give them space.
It was the first time in her seven years at Hogwarts that such tensions divided the Gryffindors. The Head girl felt like her life was a living Hell. Eve and Thomas were spending time with her, but neither Mary nor Hadrian had spoken to her since last Saturday. She did catch Hadrian's eyes a couple of times, but he had quickly turned away, not wanting to stir up Mary's anger again. It was clear how much he hated being stuck between the two of them.
If Riddle hadn't talked, none of this would have happened.
Like every day for the past week, Yasmina entered her apartment and royally ignored the Head boy. She went straight for the bathroom and locked herself in.
At least, the bath she took helped her relax. She hoped that the night would go well. Perhaps if Mary's had a great evening she would want to talk to her. Maybe luck would make Hadrian and her sit at the same table. But she wouldn't count on it. For all she knew, she could spend the feast with giggling first-year Hufflepuffs.
Going out from her bath was harder than getting in. She performed a heating charm on the whole room to make the transition from the hot waters to the cold stone softer. She picked up her robe from the hook and dressed up. Students had to wear their formal Hogwarts black robes, reserved for ceremonial nights and events like feasts. Since it was Halloween, however, they were encouraged to be a little bit more… frivolous. She braided her hair and slipped her grandmother's ring on her finger. The bright ruby always felt heavy on her hand, but never out of place, since the ring always reminded her of her family.
"Finally!" said the Head boy as soon as she opened the bathroom door. "I thought you had drowned." He was still in the living room, but he had changed in the meantime and was wearing his formal robe with the Slytherin crest. Naturally, he was absolutely stunning but Yasmina was determined to ignore him.
She avoided his gaze and went to the small kitchen to get a glass of water. She gulped it down while Riddle kept talking. "I had to use the prefect's bathroom to get ready since it took you forever in there." Poor thing, Yasmina thought ironically as she went back to the bathroom, looking for her Head girl's badge.
He threw a glance toward his watch. "We should leave now. We will be late."
Impatiently, she snapped. "Why are you talking to me?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
Yasmina scoffed at his obliviousness and didn't answer, pinning her badge on her robe. She walked right past him and opened the portrait, leaving him behind in their quarters. Unfortunately, he caught up with her pretty easily.
"Come on, Shafiq, I waited for you."
She speeded up her pace, resolute on going to the feast alone. "Don't you have anyone else to escort to the Great Hall?"
"I don't."
"I'm not your date, so find someone else to bother." Riddle grabbed her by the wrist, stopping her run in the corridor. He forced her to face him and she threw him an icy look. "Let me go," she ordered. He didn't.
"What's going on with you? He seemed genuinely ignorant. "Are you upset because I rejected your… advances the other night?"
Yasmina sneered. "I couldn't care less about what you think of me, Riddle. You were right, I was playing a game. I don't want you, especially since last week." She violently moved her arm away from his grip. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"
He turned his palms towards the ceiling. "Enlighten me."
"Since the Quidditch match, neither Mary nor Hadrian talks to me anymore. They have to "refocus on their relationship" and it seems that I'm a pretty good "obstacle to their well-being." Yasmina ironically made quotation marks with her fingers, still baffled by Mary's comments.
Riddle raised an eyebrow, disbelieving. "Sounds like a poorly made-up excuse to keep him away from you. She had known it for weeks, what changed?"
Yasmina pointed a menacing finger at him. "What changed was that you made them understand that everyone knew about it. Mary could tolerate Hadrian's inclination toward me if it stayed between us, but now that she realized that everybody knew, she flipped out!"
He gently took her by the shoulders. His tone softened. "This is ludicrous, Yasmina. Everybody had known it for years. It isn't new and Prewett is not subtle in his attentions. She must have been blind not to realize it before now. This isn't my fault and you know it. It would have happened one day or another."
It was the first time he had called her by her first name. The Head girl froze, completely caught off guard, especially since he seemed honestly annoyed by Mary's reaction. It eased her anger a little. But with him, everything could be a manipulative game and she didn't trust his concern for her. She shook her head.
"This didn't give you the right to say it. You ruined my friendships. The next time you say something about Hadrian and me, I swear… Riddle, I swear I'll hex you."
Perhaps her posed tone made her appear more menacing or perhaps Riddle thought he had done enough or perhaps he didn't even care about all that – what mattered is that he didn't answer. She looked at him, waiting for a clever comeback, but nothing. Her dark eyes stared at his impassive face for what seemed like hours, and then she turned away as his hands slid down from her shoulders.
Riddle followed her and they walked toward the Great Hall in silence. She was still mad at him, but he had seemed genuinely caught off guard by her accusations. This instigated a doubt into her mind. Was his statement deliberate? Had he really wanted to cause trouble in her circle of friends? She shot a quick glance at him, but he also seemed lost in thoughts.
The more they approached the entrance, the more they could hear the hubbub of conversations and laughter coming from the Great Hall. At least, it was a good sign; those laughs meant that everything was going well and that the event was a success.
"Ah, there you are!" Professor Merrythought accosted them, brandishing a bag. "I was looking for you two. You have to draw your table before dinner; you're the only ones left."
Yasmina entered her hand in the bag and grabbed one of the two pieces of paper left on the bottom.
Yasmina read the number 27 on her paper and she closed her fingers on it. She stood on her toes, trying to locate the table in the Great Hall, but it remained out of sight.
"Congratulations on your organization, Miss Shafiq. I suggest you rejoin the others now," the professor asserted while handing the bag to Riddle. Yasmina thanked her and walked into the room, without looking at her counterpart.
She easily found it, since it was the closest one to the professors' table. In the middle of the round table, the number 27 was carved into a pumpkin. She didn't recognize the majority of the students around the table as most of them were a lot younger than her, except the seventh-year Ravenclaw prefect whom Yasmina had hoped would become Head Boy at the beginning of the year. Then, some shining blond hair right next to her caught her attention.
"Eve! What are the odds?" She sat down on the empty seat just next to her, her smile widening every second. At least she wouldn't have to spend the evening with gloomy Slytherins.
"Yasmina! Holy mackerel, you look fantastic! Did we draw the same table? How curious! Did you rig the drawing?" Eve casually asked.
All around the table, people threw her intrigued looks. She shook her head. "I didn't, Riddle and I were the last ones to draw."
"How lucky we are!"
"We get it, you are friends. Isn't the purpose of all this to get to know other people? Should we introduce ourselves to each other?" suggested a fierce-looking Slytherin, exasperated by the two girls.
Yasmina grinned politely. "You are right. I can start! I'm Yasmina Shafiq, seventh-year Gryffindor, Head girl."
The young girl next to Eve was a second-year Hufflepuff. She was the only one around the table and seemed incredibly shy. Then, the fierce-looking Slytherin was named Druella Rosier and she seemed absolutely annoyed to be there. the seventh-year Ravenclaw prefect Yasmina knew well – Eugene Davies was sitting next to his cousin, Albert Davies, also Ravenclaw. The last girl was a first-year Ravenclaw with red hair and she mumbled her name so quietly that Yasmina did not hear it.
"Tom Riddle, seventh year Slytherin… and Head boy," said Yasmina's counterpart, sitting down on the only free chair on her right.
Yasmina's smile faded. "What are you doing here?"
He showed her the paper he had drawn on which the number 27 was clearly written. "Same as you, it seems." He looked around the table to gauge his fellow students. He shook hands with Eugene Davis and smiled charmingly to his Slytherin counterpart. "Druella, You look absolutely ravishing." Her fiery gaze softened and Yasmina saw her melt like wax in the sun.
Pathetic.
Riddle then noticed Yasmina's best friend and rolled his eyes. "That drawing is rigged, though. I knew I should have organized it."
"If I had rigged that drawing, believe me, you wouldn't be seating here."
He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. His visual examination of the Head girl was interrupted by a surprised voice. "Tom!" Theodore Lestrange hailed the Head boy with a wide grin. He was at the table right next to theirs, accompanied by Nott and Rosier. The three Slytherins were sharing their table with several younger Gryffindor students.
Riddle was intrigued. "How come you three are sitting at the same table?"
"We all drew the table randomly… or maybe we strongly influenced a couple of first-years to give us their tickets. Who knows?" Lestrange implied, getting a smirk out of the Head boy. "What about you? How come you get to sit with the Head girl you spend so much time with? The drawing was evidently rigged."
Yasmina rolled her eyes. "Why does everybody thinks I rigged the event? This is random, Lestrange." She insisted on his last name, determined not to make the same mistake as last time.
"I didn't imply you did, but if you say so…" he raised his glass to her and winked. His eyes suddenly fell on her best friend. "Oh, hello Murphy. I didn't see you there. "
"That says a lot about you, Lestrange. You only notice me when I'm wearing a bright red short skirt." Eve disinterestedly replied.
He went on full-charming mode. "Don't get me wrong, I observe you every day. You're just too busy being extraordinary to notice me."
Yasmina rolled her eyes in exasperation, but Eve couldn't hide her smile. To Yasmina's dismay, Eve even blushed. But as long as it remained a simple flirt, it wasn't problematic.
It was weird to see everyone talking to each other normally as if they were old friends. Albert Davies was chatting animatedly with Druella Rosier. Eve was openly flirting with Theodore and Riddle was playing his Head boy role at perfection, discussing with everyone within range. Yasmina did see him throw a quick glance at the professors' table and she was sure he was checking to see if the teachers had seen him being so polite and open to everyone. A masquerade again, but convincing nonetheless. If Yasmina hadn't been so convinced that everything he did was aimed at manipulating people, she too would have been fooled by his good manners.
Soon after, food appeared on the table and the conversations stopped for an instant before restarting even more cheerfully. Merlin, the smell was incredible. A squash soup had appeared in front of her and it looked amazing. It was accompanied by crispy bread and soft butter. Yasmina plunged into her plate, famished. After the soup, they could choose between several dishes, like Beef Wellington, creamy plates of pasta, or even Cornish pasties. There were gigantic bowls of grilled vegetables, roasted potatoes, and two different arugula salads on every table.
"Murphy, can you hand me the vegetables, please?"
Eve handed Riddle the bowl and he thanked her with a smile so bright that she almost dropped it on Yasmina.
"Bloody Hell, Eve."
"Sorry," she apologized. She leaned toward her and spoke in an almost imperceptible voice, making sure the Head boy wasn't paying attention to them. "How was I supposed to know that he would sneak a charismatic attack on me like that? I wasn't prepared!"
Yasmina rolled her eyes. "For Goodness' sake, you know how awful he is to me, pull yourself together and stopped being under his charm like everyone else!"
"I'm trying!" She fiercely retorted. "It's just he –"
Riddle interrupted her. "I was wondering, Murphy – I mean Eve. Is it alright if I call you Eve?" She nodded vividly. "Why have you never come to professor Slughorn's club since fourth year?"
"I… Slughorn… He…." Eve paused and filled half her plate with arugula salad, pulling herself together. "I don't fit in the crowd Slughorn usually invites."
"Modesty doesn't suit you," he replied playfully, and somehow, Yasmina's stomach flipped upside down. "Professor Slughorn praises you as much as he praises me in his class. Your potions making abilities are renowned all around the castle so I'm positively certain he invites you regularly. So why don't you come?"
"I didn't like it the few times I went. The evenings were… too pompous for me."
"It is," Riddle admitted, "but we've had a great time in the last two years. You should come, next time."
Once again, Yasmina felt that unpleasant feeling twitching inside her stomach. What was wrong with her? She hadn't felt like this in a very long time. Perhaps she had eaten too fast.
Eve didn't answer because she was too busy checking out Yasmina with a weird look. Riddle added a very important detail, un-preoccupied by the Head girl. "Theodore comes regularly too, you know. I'm sure he would like to see you there."
"If Lestrange wants me to come, I'm sure he can invite me himself, don't you think?"
Riddle smiled at Eve's vehemence. "I'm sure he can."
When everyone had finished their dinner, the food disappeared and their plates became clean as new. Dippet rose from his seat and the conversations faded. "I hoped you all enjoyed the delicious meal we had tonight. Now now, for the desert, we have something a little bit special for all of you. Tonight is about transcending the borders between the different houses and getting to know each other a little better. Hogwarts is, after all, a unique house for wizards."
Everyone stayed quiet. Clearly, his view about a unique house wasn't shared by the majority of the students. He continued his speech nonetheless.
"A parchment will appear on every table. They aren't any good or bad answers, we simply want you all to discuss and get to know each other better. At the end of the night, some of you might even realize that the adversary isn't that much different, after all."
Eve and Yasmina exchanged a look, both thinking about the same thing. With a golden glow, a parchment appeared in the middle of the table and Albert Davies grabbed it. He laughed while looking at the list of questions.
"What is your favorite beast or animal and why?" He finally said aloud and Yasmina could hear people chuckling all around the Great Hall while reading their respective questions. It seemed a little bit too easy, but they all participated nonetheless.
Yasmina listened politely to the Ravenclaws' and the Hufflepuff's answers while eating a part of pumpkin tart. She already knew everything about Eve, so she listened to her answer with one ear. The only person of interest around the table was Riddle. Not that he was fascinating, but the Head boy was so secretive that she hoped to be able to pinpoint him a little better with his answers. Perhaps it could help her find clues about his nocturnal activities.
She couldn't be surprised, though, when she learned that his favorite color was green and snakes were his favorite animals. That was way too predictable.
She was astounded, though, when he asserted that his favorite subject at Hogwarts was Defence Against the Dark Arts. He had not given the impression that he liked to defend himself against the dark arts, but rather that he enjoyed playing with them. Yasmina thought about the threats he had made to her in September and had to conceal a shiver.
Things became really interesting when Druella read the next question. "What is your dream job?"
Eugene Davies wanted to become a Mediwizard and was hoping to start his formation next summer. Both the second-year Hufflepuff and the first-year Ravenclaw wanted to follow the famous Newton Scamander's path and become Magizoologists. The Head boy was stoically quiet.
She called out to him. "What about you?"
"I don't have anything definite yet," Riddle replied evasively. "I'm planning on improving my magical abilities, traveling, sharing my knowledge with the world."
"Perhaps you could join the Ministry?" suggested Eve. "I've always seen you as a politician."
Riddle smiled mysteriously. "I don't think the Ministry of Magic is a right fit for me. It's too… constrained."
He rotated the ring around his finger, wearing an expression on his face that Yasmina had never seen before. There was a pinch of satisfaction, yet it was obscured by some dark cloud behind his irises. She would have given anything to know what was going on inside his mind. If only she was able to use Legilimency discreetly without her wand…
Yasmina sighed and grabbed the parchment instead: "A secret you have that only a few people know about." Instinctively, her mental barriers built up. For a second, she thought about Dumbledore's secret and since Riddle was so close to her, it wasn't a good time to bring this memory to the front of her mind. He, unlike her, was perfectly able to use legilimency against her without needing a wand. She avoided the Head boy piercing gaze and met Theodore's eyes instead. He was also staring at her from his table.
The Head boy saw the exchange and huffed knowingly. The dark cloud around him had dissipated and he was back to his usual self. "Why don't you start, Shafiq? I can see that you are dying to tell us your deepest secret."
Again, she exchanged a look with Theodore, who had been listening. Yasmina was unsure about her next move, but she couldn't find anything to tell besides Dumbledore's secret or Lestrange-Shafiq one. Theodore shrugged. "Perhaps it's the right moment, I don't mind, do you?"
She didn't. For the first time since her arrival at Hogwarts seven years ago – when she had learned about blood discrimination and had been sent to Gryffindor – she didn't mind. She felt that nobody would care. She didn't care as much as she once did.
"My family and Theodore Lestrange's are very close. Our parents were friends at Hogwarts, which means we see each other several times a year during holidays. We've known each other since we were toddlers."
"You are kidding me!" Eve looked at the two of them in consternation. Yasmina had guessed that she would react like this. She had never told any of her friends about this.
"I'm not kidding, it's true. Ask him." She pointed him with her chin. Eve looked at Lestrange, expecting a little more details, but he simply nodded.
"This is unbelievable! Why haven't you told me before?"
"We didn't want anyone to know." She hesitated. "Our parents are friends even if they don't share the same view about pureblood's superiority. But I disagree with Lestrange's opinions as much as he disagrees with my family's views. It was easier like this. We didn't talk about being acquainted our first year and it simply remained this way."
Yasmina met Riddle's gaze and knew he was attentively listening to them.
Eve shook her head. "I still can't believe it. I am trying to imagine you and Lestrange, playing around as kids. The next time I see your parents, I'm going to have to interrogate them about you two."
Yasmina smiled, overcome by nostalgia. "We were friends though, before Hogwarts, before the crests were imprinted on our robes, and before meeting other people with opposite views about blood purity."
Even if they would have tried to remain friends, Hogwarts was such a divided environment that it would have been nearly impossible. They both took completely different paths. Yasmina didn't really care about blood purity. After all, her best friend Eve was a half-blood and Thomas was a muggleborn. She didn't care about what run into their veins, as long as they were loyal and kind to her. Theodore himself wasn't a bad person, but he had grown up in a…peculiar environment. The Lestrange were well-known blood purists and it was understandable that he shared the same view as the rest of his family.
Sadness crept over her, and Yasmina was not able to add a single word.
Eve nodded, understanding. Since no one around the table was taking the initiative to answer this question, absorbed by their thoughts, Eve read the next one. "What is your proudest moment?"
It was the best moment of the night. Yasmina was so proud, watching everyone around the table carefully listening to each other, no matter their houses, their age, or their blood. They were transported into wild stories, stories of quidditch, of broken families, of selflessness. Yasmina lost her breath laughing at the adventure told by Druella Rosier. She noticed a few students around the table tearing up at the fantastic courageous moment related by the young Hufflepuff girl. It was great. For a second, she forgot about the war raging outside. For a second, she even smiled at Tom Riddle next to her.
It was one second too many.
Because for that one second, he acknowledged her openness, her vulnerability, her happiness, and somehow, he knew it was the right time to strike. She saw the shift in his eyes. He leaned toward her, putting away a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid.
"What is your proudest moment, Head girl?" the man asked softly, making sure that everyone was attentively listening to Albert Davies' story.
Yasmina wanted to push his hand away but her body refused to obey. The Head boy leaned as close as their chairs would allow and locked his eyes with her. Riddle hadn't flirted with her openly since the evening at Hogsmeade, and even then, it was far from being so...obvious. She shrugged, her voice gone.
"I'll help you. I'm sure we can find something." His voice was so low that nobody at their table could hear. She tensed when she noticed his plotting smirk, overwhelmed by a bad feeling. "Perhaps your proudest moment was when you received your O.W.L.s results… I guess all E's is good for an average student. Or maybe it was when you led your Quidditch team to its first victory in years by dressing up as a tramp."
She should have known. By the look in his eyes and his teasing grin, Yasmina understood what this hellish devil was trying to do. Riddle was visibly trying to enrage her so that she would lose her temper. The Head boy was showing her that no matter how proud she felt about her initiative tonight, he would always be more polite, more patient, more posed, and more talented than her. She loathed the truth of it.
Her pride wanted to show him that he was wrong and that she could control her emotions, yet her Gryffindor temper was making this very difficult. By the look in his eyes, he knew how much she struggled.
He pressed on, testing her limits, his sweet voice into her ear. "Oh, I know! Your proudest moment is when you were named Head girl by default because the other prefect had resigned. It is quite extraordinary, isn't it?"
She breathed in and out several times, trying with all her will not to lose her mind right here, in the middle of the crowded Great Hall. Yasmina closed her eyes because if she looked at him a second more, she would go crazy. He was very close. Improperly close.
"Shut up."
He ignored her, pursuing his torture. "No? So you think that your proudest moment was when you realized you could seduce all your friends' love interests? I can understand. That's quite the accomplishment for young women these days."
There. She lost it.
She pushed him away violently. "Do you really want to know what my proudest moment is, Riddle?"
Albert Davies interrupted his story and the table fell silent, except for the Head boy who was wearing an eager smile on his lips. "I do, tell us all. Tell me."
"That is."
She jumped on her feet, drawing out her wand. Before he could move a single toe, she had already thrown him three strong curses, one after the other. He failed to see it coming – or he underestimated her – and he took the spells in full force in his chest. The Head boy fell backward in a loud bang, to everyone's bewilderment.
Someone disarmed her, but she didn't care. Her black irises were fixed on Riddle's face, her breath panting, lost in her mind. How… satisfying.
Unknown arms encircled her, preventing her from moving forward.
Tom Riddle had it coming.
