When he first saw the girl, plenty of thoughts filled his mind. She looks like her, sounds like her, but she doesn't remember him, so it couldn't possibly be her. But there was just something at the back of his head that tells him he was wrong. Though he simply shrugged it off, there was no point in making a mess over simple little things. No point. Not one at all.

Though this proved to be...difficult to ignore.

Andrea Velásquez was one of the many transfer students Hogwarts had been receiving because of the ongoing war. And over the past few months, Riddle found himself a rival.

She excelled well in her studies, all under the guise effortless skimming. Though of course she and Tom both know that guise is for appearances only. And while Tom was the paragon of an obedient, gentlemanly student under the eyes of the majority of the professors, Andrea had this persona of openness and nonchalance, and so far, had no major incident of her snapping despite a rumored brash, bold, and bad temper. All the professors (at least the notable ones) all sing and praise her—even Dumbledore. Not to mention her last name, which had made her transition into Slytherin society smooth enough to befriend majority of the Black family.

Unlike Tom, who had used his appearance, charm, and sensible personality as a way to have half of the school fall in love with him, and his magic to make those who doubt him stay under his feet. They are practically the same at face-value, except Tom excelled in his skill—and doesn't rely on his name.

He doesn't mind her, though. Because there was one thing Tom was sure of. She was afraid of him. She always avoided him like the plague. Their classroom conversation dry and stale, despite Slughorn's insistence that they partner. They were rivalling for Teacher's Favorites and that was it. So, when he encounters her outside of a classroom, he is surprised she hadn't jumped out the window yet.

"Velásquez," Tom Riddle greets with a charming smile.

She gave a tight smile in return, "Riddle."

"Our next subject is Charms, right? Would you mind to walk with me?" Riddle asks, head tilting and voice light and chipper.

"No thank you, I have to meet up with Euphemia," she replies. Euphemia Delacroix, another transfer student that Velásquez befriended. But fifth-year Ravenclaws have Care of Magical Creatures right now. She's lying. Is the little crow scared of a snake?

Riddle steps closer, "Well where would you meet?"

An open question. Andrea can't answer without seeming rude or brash. She pauses for a moment, knowing fully well he caught her lie. She had half the mind to jump out the window right now.

"The greenhouses," she tells the truth with faux-confidence.

"Why you'll be late the time you get back," he says, sounding obviously surprised. "Let's walk."

She stops, pursing her lips.

"I insist."

Why is he insisting?

"Alright," she accepted anyway. Denying would be rude, but why would she give a shit about what he thinks? Because he's a sensitive fuck who might crucio someone for the smallest things—probably.

The two students walked down the hall in a reasonable pace. Andrea within two-feet a distance from him, she never looked at him, nor faced him, always looking through some window or admiring the architecture of the school. She was silent, as expected.

Students in the crowded hallways parted like the sea, to this, Tom observed how her behavior changed in front of other people. She stood straight and looked straight ahead, despite her being nervous before. Tom, on the other hand, stayed the same as always. The pair heard the whispers and mindless chatter forming on their borders. Tom didn't mind, it just shows how much influence he has. Andrea, however, was looming a dark glare towards the noises, Tom observes.

When they arrived at the classroom, they didn't talk.

Professor Merrythought entered Headmaster Dippet's office with uncertainty. There were a number of reasons for her being called, majority of them sat with unease in her mind.

"Professor, sit down, please." Dippet gestured at the empty seat across him.

She did so, silently. "What is it, Headmaster?"

The old man took a deep breath, "As you may know, majority of the Headmasters in European schools attended a commission concerning the war."

Merrythought had a curious look but stayed silent, letting the man explain.

"You know the commotion Potter stroke up to the Minister years back?" he asked.

"The late minister Evermonde? Potter said something about Wizards and Witches participating in the Great War, or the European War, or whatever muggles call it?"

The man sighed, leaning back on his chair. "Precisely, it seems that there is a second war this time around. And the majority of the commission suspected Grindelwald was behind it."

"With all due respect, sir, why did you call me here?"

"We received an influx number of transferees because of the both wars Grindelwald had started, Minister Fawley, requested all Defense teachers to change their lesson plan into something more hands-on," the Headmaster explained.

Merrythought was confused, shocked, and mildly outraged. "They're children!"

"Nothing too outlandish!" the Headmaster justified, standing up. "I don't want you casting Unforgivables, or cursing your students, but merely something simple such as dueling, perhaps."

The old woman leaned back on the chair, sighing, covering her face with her hand.

"These students need to learn how to defend themselves."

"I know."

The two girls, Euphemia and Andrea found themselves walking towards the Defense classroom. Euphemia often compared herself to Andrea. Both of them were the only fifth-year transferees. She can speak French as well, Euphemia found Andrea's accent cute.

Andrea was a star student. She was pretty as well, tanned skin, sharp black eyes with a sharper jawline, she was slim but had muscle, a perfect combination of masculine and feminine qualities. Eccentric, brash, and a good friend. Euphemia, on the other hand, blonde, borderline sickly-pale, child-like features—it was something Euphemia was conscious about but Andrea always had her way to boost her confidence.

"Daydreaming again, Euphy?" Andrea asked in English, a hint of her admittedly arousing Spanish accent through.

Euphy shook her head, feeling the heat on her cheeks, "I think I have a mild fever, I was just thinking about home."

"Marseille?" asked the brunette. "What's it like?"

Euphy made a face, "Andy, if I talk about it I'll get homesick."

"I'm homesick too, let's get homesick together!" Andy joked, making Euphy laugh.

"Marseille is…warmer than Scotland. It doesn't snow a lot," described Euphy. She subtly saw Andy twitch.

Despite the flash of uncomfortableness, she laughed, "Yeah, in Madrid it can get really warm in the summers. 40 degrees, I think."

"Doesn't it snow there?" Euphy asked, confused.

There it is again, "Yeah, it does. I don't really like the cold though," Andy off-handedly mentions, Euphy seeing her hand twitch.

Euphy instinctively wrapped her hands around Andy's. "Your hands are cold."

"More like your hands are warm," she says, not letting go and still smiling at Euphy.

A very adorable grin-wide smile that fit Andy perfectly, but it faded, why—

Andy let go and her hand made its way to Euphy's forehead. "You should probably go the infirmary. The fever might not be as mild as you think."

"It's fine! I'm just not used to the climate yet!" Euphy justified, in a somewhat outraged tone.

"Neither am I!" the tall girl shot back.

"Well my immune system isn't as strong as yours—" Euphy shut herself up, hands flying to her mouth.

There it is, a wide grin on Andy's face that practically screamed 'I caught you'.

"Let's go to Madame Rhodes, you know how she is when people arrive too late," Andy said, passing by the Defense classroom and down the hall into the Infirmary.

"You're going to be late!" and alone in Defense class, the last part went unsaid in Euphy's mouth.

"It's okay, I can run."

And she did, immediately after Euphy is standing outside the infirmary. A concerned Madame Rhodes ushering her inside.

Professor Merrythought found herself calmly walking towards her classroom when she heard the echoing running of a student. She turned and it was none other than—

"Miss Velásquez," she greeted. Quite a surprise.

The young girl was panting and sweating, struggling to stand straight, "Ah—Professor, see—Euphy—Euphemia Delacroix can't quite come to class today, she has a fever, I escorted her to the infirmary."

The Professor merely rose a brow, "Tell her I'll be needing an excuse slip from Madame Rhodes."

Velásquez nodded and headed inside the classroom, once the Professor hears her take a seat, she strides inside.

"Good afternoon class. Take away the parchment, quills, and books, we'll be hands-on today. Side the chairs as well."

The students did as she said, taking them a second or so to do so.

"Two lines, by house. Slytherins on the left, Ravenclaws on the right," Merrythought commanded, gesturing as she said "Move!"

Thankfully these aren't first years who are shy and practically still toddlers. They moved quickly and orderly. Good. As Merrythought walked between the large gap of students, she scanned them at subtly sighed relief at the even number of students.

"Atwood with Black. Williams with Leslie. Jones with Avery..." she says, then pausing. "Well what are you waiting for? Go to your assigned partners!"

As the Professor was nearing at the end of the line, Andrea noticed there were two less Ravenclaws than Slytherins. This means that…and Riddle's—shit.

"…Velásquez with Riddle. Let's start with you lot."

Riddle has this shit-eating grin. She can't ask for another partner, can she?

Professor turned her heel and walked in front of the class, "As you wise and cunning students may already know, you will duel your partner. On my mark, you will start."

Is Andrea really doing this? Can't she fake sickness, lie about contracting Euphy's fever?

But Riddle is right there across her, wand in hand.

Okay. Okay. Deep breaths, Andrea. Don't be obvious. Don't show you're nervous. Back straight. Chin up. This is just an over glorified version of rock-paper-scissors.

"Remember, no major injuries. No fighting to the death. Once one yields, the duel is over. Ready? Bow."

Riddle didn't bow, he just tilted forwards. Qué Cabrón.

"Rise."

Dodge, defend, attack? Stun, bind—

"Position."

Protego, Aguamenti, Glacio, Ferrum—

"Begin!"

A/N: que cabron - what a cunt. chapter title comes from 'different people' by no doubt, it's a great song. anyways, hoped you guys enjoyed the chapter, i'd really like to hear your opinions!