Okay, yes. I am the worst, but here is a new chapter. Review light me up and I've never been more stressed in my life, so encouragement counts double right now! Cheers, x
A slight knock on the door wakes me up from my night-time trance and I sit up, grasping my wand tightly. 'It's Dorea. It's 7:00. I thought you might want a wake-up call,' the voice calls through the door. I croak out a thanks. I stumble to the shower and wash up quickly. I braid my hair and return to my room clad in a towel.
A trunk at the base at my bed is full of robes. I dress in a skirt and white button-down. I add a sweater and my robes. I still feel cold, but better now that I'm clean. I walk out to the hall, then the common room. There are several people around, sitting on the black leather couches, half-awake. Some are playing chess, some waiting for their friends to be ready. By the fire sits a Tom Riddle. Slowly I make my way over to him.
'Hullo,' he greets me. Like last night, he is dressed perfectly. I don't know if I'll ever get used to the way he looks. It's unnerving how black his hair is, how symmetrical his features are.
'Good morning,' I greet him.
'Breakfast?' he asks. I nod. Rising, he offers his arm. I take it and together we stroll through the drafty castle. I don't feel so cold though. We take seats next to each other at a large table in a large hall. I watch the enchanted sky, bewildered.
'It's magnificent,' I breathe.
I return my attention to the issue at hand. Breakfast is clearly quite different in England. I see a great deal of potatoes and tomatoes and eggs. All I want though is a croissant. A fluffy, crunchy Parisian croissant. I stare at the table intently, forcing my memories down. I swallow the lump in my throat. 'Are you well?' Riddle asks. I clench my hands into fists. No one has asked me that in a year at least.
My voice is quiet, 'It's just hard for me. I've been on the run for a while. It's not an easy thing to forget.' Quieter still, I add, 'I miss my home.' And now that I've said it, I realize how true it is. I miss my apartment in the Latin Quarter with my mother. I miss the Louvre and the chocolat chaud on the Seine. I miss the cold winter mornings and the hot summer days. I miss everything so much I feel like I can't breathe.
Now isn't the time, though, so I force those feelings away. I lock them in a box in my head. 'I'm sorry,' Riddle says.
I shake my head, 'I'm just not used to it, I guess.'
His eyes watch me intently. 'I'll do what I can to make it easier on you.'
I shrug, 'Thanks.'
'Tom, my boy!' A voice exclaims from behind us, startling me. I reach for my wand instinctively before self consciously letting my hand drop.
'Professor Slughorn, meet Marie Rosalie, our newest student.'
'Welcome to Hogwarts! Here is your schedule. I'll see you in potions later today,' Professor Slughorn says. He's quite… portly. And loud. I don't enjoy loudness so I nod silently.
The hall is filling up now. I feel trapped by this many people. The professor ambles away and I clutch at the parchment to give myself a life-line. The voices of the other students feel too loud around me. I focus on my still-empty plate. I clutch at the goblet filled with water. I sip, slowly, trying to breathe. Tom either doesn't notice, or pretends not to notice. I imagine it's the latter. He doesn't seem like someone who misses things.
'What day is it?' I ask.
'Tuesday,' Riddle says, spooning eggs onto his plate.
'Double herbology,' I tell him.
'Me too, but I have patrol first. I'll walk you to the greenhouses, though.'
'Thanks.' I say. I focus on the food in front of me. I pick a hardboiled egg up and peel it methodically. I salt it and take a bite. I finish at the same time he does, even though he has eaten at least eight times the amount I ate. He is graceful about it and doesn't wolf it down like a light-haired boy further down the table.
'Why don't I show you around the castle,' he suggests. I nod. Maybe he does notice my discomfort. We exit the dining hall side by side. He informs me that it is called the Great Hall. He shows me the hour glasses with the points of each house. We meander through the charms and transfiguration classrooms, then the potions dungeon. Eventually, he leads me to the greenhouses. The class is already assembling. 'I'll see you in a bit,' he smiles at me. I nod, mute.
I've always enjoyed Herbology. I'm not amazing at it, but I like it. Quietly, I trim the leaves of the british plant we're working with. It's supposed to be highly toxic if ingested, but it hasn't reached that stage of maturity. Before I know it, Riddle has joined us in the greenhouse. He works a few places down from me and I catch his curious gaze a few times.
Class ends after what feels like forever. I stay at my bench, lingering. I don't want to leave the moist warmth of the greenhouse yet. Riddle has waited, too. 'Come on, let's go,' he tells me. I follow him. Outside, it's still chilly. It's almost April now, but Britain is still cold. Riddle leads us to a small hill that looks out over the castle and the lake. He sits on the grass, 'We have a 30 minute break now.' I nod.
I dig into my robe's pocket for a minute, before coming up with a small silver box. I open the catch and pull out a cigarette. It's a perfect cigarette, bought from my favorite store in Paris. Now, we're lucky to find a slight hit of nicotine in what they're selling, but I was able to get this just before the Germans stormed the city. I've been conserving them for months.
I offer one to him but he shakes his head. I return the box to my pocket and Riddle is lighting the cigarette in my mouth with his wand. I inhale for a long moment, as though breathing in the fire will melt me. Finally, I say, 'It doesn't feel like the world is ending here.'
He smiles, 'No, but you should see London, it feels like it there. Bombs all the time.'
I frown, 'I wonder if it's worse to have the Nazis in the street or in the air.'
He shrugs, 'Who cares?' I take another drag, relishing in the taste of the smoke. No wonder Mr. Churchill likes cigars so much.
'I've seen so much evil, Riddle. I can't wait till this war is over.'
'Who are you, Rosalie?' He asks.
I shrug, 'I'm just someone who managed to get away.'
We sit in silence again. 'Who are you, Riddle?' I ask.
'Someone everyone will know of,' he replies. I shake my head, recognition is not always a good thing. I continue to inhale the smoke. On the last drag, I exhale through my nose. I crush the butt under my boot, standing.
'Let's go,' I say.
'Defense Against the Dark Arts is next,' he announces as we head towards the castle.
A small snort escapes me before I can control it. He frowns, his dark eyebrows pulling together, 'What's funny? It's my favorite subject.'
I smile, for the first time in a while, 'I have some experience there, you could say.'
'Oh, right,' he nods as though he understands. He doesn't. No one understands. I shiver.
We take our seats in the classroom. I already know I will hate Defense. This stupid subject has done nothing for me. Nothing will bring back my mother. Nothing will fix my destroyed family. The Dark Arts have stolen everything from me. Everything. I will loathe them for the rest of my life. Suddenly, all I can see are my dark days from the last few months. All the days I felt like giving up. I see my mother, eyes glassy. I feel myself falling apart and try to regain my calm.
I count my breaths until I've fully returned to myself. I'm here. At Hogwarts. I'm safe. The class ends before we get to discussing protection charms. I follow Riddle out of the class. In the Great Hall, several people introduce themselves. There are several boys around Riddle, a Malfoy, Rosier, Mulciber, Nott. Then there are the girls. Dorea Black, Irina Parkinson, Amelia Crabbe.
I feel crushed by the voices around me, but I force myself to smile at all of them. I don't say much, but focus on the small quiche on my plate. I take a bite. It feels like chewing sawdust. 'I'm going to show Ms. Rosalie around a little more,' Riddle announces to the table. They're discussing their plans for the Easter Holiday in two weeks and the Hogsmeade trip this weekend.
'Thanks,' I say as we exit the Hall, letting the clamour fall away.
'No problem, you seemed a little overwhelmed.'
I smile tightly, 'It's been awhile since I've been around so many people. It is a little intimidating.'
He watches me carefully as we walk down the halls together. 'What's your secret, Marie Rosalie?' he asks.
He is far too perceptive for a sixteen year old boy. I watch him through guarded eyes. It's useless to deny it, so I simply say, 'It wouldn't be a secret if I told you, would it?'
'You'll tell me someday,' he says confidently.
I shrug, 'We'll see.' He shows me the owlery and the quidditch pitch from a distance. 'Potions?' I ask. He nods and together we head for the dungeons. I still feel lost in this magnificent fortress.
I love potions. I absolutely adore it. And I'm good at it. I was the best potioneer in all of Beauxbatons, despite being a fourth year. My mother was a potioneer and she was the best in the world. So good, in fact, that it's no wonder that she kept us hidden as long as she did. No wonder my father wanted her so badly.
I focus on the smell of the classroom. Slughorn announces that we'll be brewing a Draught of Peace that is sure to come up on our OWLs. Riddle, like me, doesn't check the book. We both gather our ingredients. 'It's easier if you cut it lengthwise first,' I tell Riddle about his roots. He frowns but tries my suggestion.
By the end of two hours, I have helped Dorea and Thoros Nott, who are also at our table. As I go to pick up a vial to bottle the concoction, I can't help but point out to a Gryffindor boy that he's stirring the wrong way. 'Thanks,' he says. I nod. I'm finished before anyone else and I sit in front of my cauldron, thinking that I, myself, could use a Draught of Peace. I take a small sip and feel my body relax a bit.
Riddle finishes a few minutes after I do. 'You're good at this,' he mentions.
I smile, 'My mother was very talented at it.'
'Like the grand "Léa Riposte,' he laughs. I force myself to laugh, too. I didn't think anyone would know my mother's name here. My laugh dies in my throat, though as he says, 'Isn't she in hiding in France?' I suddenly can't breathe.
Because, no, she isn't hiding in France. She's dead. I feel my heart beating quickly and my breaths are accelerating, but I feel numb. I feel like I'm falling. Before I can answer Riddle, Slughorn is dismissing the class. I sit on my stool for a few more moments, pressing my hands to my eyes, trying to block out all the image of my dead mother.
'Are you okay?' He asks. I wonder if he's my angel. My dark angel, with those grey eyes and black hair. I shake my head, 'No, I don't think so.' He offers me his arm. I lean on it as we exit the classroom. He takes me to the Slytherin common room. There are only a couple second years in the corner, but a look from Riddle sends them flying out.
'Well, that was the last class of the day. Do you want to start the homework?' Riddle asks me and I nod. I think he knows work will distract me. I pull out the potions essay Slughorn has asked us to write on poison blends. The area of poisons is one of my specialties. My mother has tested my antidote brewing and poison knowledge since I was tiny. Maybe she knew that one day I would be on the run.
I scribble for the next half hour without consulting a book. The common room fills up, but I am able to ignore everyone while I am here, secluded with Riddle. My writing is cramped and curvy. I look over at Riddle. He's labeling a plant we'll be working with in our next Herbology lesson. His writing is more masculine and blockly, but elegant all the same. I finish my essay after another thirty minutes of diligent work. I roll up the parchment and tuck it into my bag.
I pull out the diagram I was also given at the end of Herbology and start to label it. This one is more difficult for me. I flip through my textbook as Riddle begins his potions essay. I scratch out an incorrect spelling and rewrite it. When I look back up, Riddle is looking at me like he wants to ask something. I raise my brows.
'Yes?' I inquire. 'I could do this myself, but I would have to go to the library, so I thought I might ask. If you have Draught of Living Death mixed with Pepper-Up, what happens to the drinker?' I think for a second. 'Well, the powdered asphodel would react poorly with the mandrake root in this case, because the potions aren't the same consistency. I'm not sure, but I'd hazard a guess that you would fall into a sleep, but it wouldn't be as deep as usual with DoLD because it's impure.' He looks at me for a second, then nods. 'I was just wondering, because Slughorn mentioned that some potions work really well together. Like Babbling Brew and Veritaserum.' I nod and return to my diagram.
We finish at the same time and I know I should tackle my DADA homework but the thought of it annoys me. It's a quick six inches on different types of protective charms. I know enough to write a book. Groaning, I decide putting it off is a bad idea. Once again, my previous knowledge assists me. I have eight inches of highly summarized information on the most basic protection charms. That should be good. I look over and Riddle has at least a foot. No wonder he's a prefect.
He finishes a few minutes after I put all my things away. 'Dinner?' he asks. I grimace, not wanting to face another crowd of people, but I figure I should get it out of the way. I nod. I dart into my room and put my things away and wait for him in front of a window in the common room. He joins me minutes later and we walk to the Great Hall in silence. It's amicable, though.
Already I know Riddle is a companion well suited to me. I can go hours on end without feeling the need to utter a single word and something tells me he is the same way. We sit at the Slytherin table. About half the school is here already. Something in me feels calmer. I feel like I can get through this dinner without another panic attack.
I sit down next to Riddle and next to Dorea Black. 'How was your first day?' she asks. I smile at this. Small talk, I can handle. 'It was really interesting, especially compared to Beauxbatons. Here, you focus more on theory.' 'What's your favorite class?' A boy with dark hair asks from across the table. 'Potions, of course.' I grin.
I suddenly feel a rush of hunger a I put a large serving of chicken on my plate. I fill my goblet with pumpkin juice. I focus on eating for the next few minutes, but my heart rate isn't accelerated. I feel okay. 'So what do you have tomorrow?' Dorea asks. I pull out my schedule. 'Transfiguration, Charms, History of Magic, and I have a free afternoon. And astronomy in the evening.' 'You should see Sluggie about that blank,' says a boy who can only be a Malfoy, 'You're not supposed to have gaps until 6th year.' I nod, 'When?' 'I'll take you when we're finished,' Riddle offers. I nod and smile at him.
Before I know it, I'm done eating a small helping of chocolate cake and Riddle and I are walking out the door. We head to the potions classroom but keep walking to the next door. I reach out a knock. 'Enter,' a jovial voice says. I press my fingers against each other for a moment, trying to find serenity.
I push the door open and step in. 'Hi Professor. I just wanted to ask you about my blank afternoon tomorrow.' I decide to jump straight into it. I don't want to be kept small talking. My nerves are frayed from the day and I want nothing more than to crawl into my bed and fall asleep. 'Ah, yes. We usually let students decide what to do on Wednesday afternoons. Generally, they help teachers with their younger pupils. Mr. Riddle here does extra DADA, I believe.' Riddle nods, 'I help Professor Merrythought with the younger years.'
I purse my lips for a fraction of a second. I'm amazing at two things only, potions and wandless magic. 'Could I work with you, Professor?' I risk. 'My mother was a potioneer.' Slughorn smiles. He is like a happy beachball, I decide. But based on the cabinet I see behind him, a rather influential happy beachball. It is crammed with photographs of famous wizards and witches.
'Well, how about you come tomorrow and do independent study, I want to make sure your skills are up to scratch before I let you loose on the first years.' I nod and murmur an of course, but a flash of anger strikes through me. I have already ventured into the realms of Alchemy, something most potioneers never dare try. I had a correspondence with Nicholas Flamel before the war. I even have written a few articles in Transfiguration Today about potioneering. Not that Slughorn knows. Not that I can tell him, because my name is still my biggest secret. It will always be my biggest secret.
'Well, I have a meeting with the Headmaster so I best get going,' Slughorn says. He ushers Riddle and I out of the office and disappears down the hall. When I can no longer hear his footsteps I let out a sharp breath, 'Up to scratch,' I say with a hint of contempt. Riddle chuckles and it feels like a victory. How often does this stoic boy laugh anyway.
'What's the most complicated potion you know?' I ask Riddle. He raises a single brow, 'Does it have to be legal?' I shrug, 'Just nothing Dark. That won't add to my reputation.' I can tell this intrigues him, but I don't want to give him ideas so I say quickly, 'I'll brew some Felix Felicis, no one ever gets that right until their second year of Mastery usually.'
Back in the common room, I bid Riddle good-night and disappear to my room. I'm too exhausted to do much but crawl under the covers. I heave a grateful sigh at the warmth. I feel warm and cozy. My homework is done. And I think I have at least one ally in this castle. Even if he is dark and broody. I wonder how long it will take me to crack Tom Riddle. And I wonder if his secrets could ever compare to mine. I fall into a state of half-sleep where I jerk awake every time my mind gets pulled into unconsciousness. It doesn't make for a very restful night, but I do avoid the nightmares.
The next day passes in a blur. The homework load is immense and I try to work on it during the down time while my Felix brews. Dumbledore is an amazing teacher. I struggle with Transfiguration but he explains so well it was downright easy. Charms is fun, but the essay assigned will not be. History of Magic is rather dull, but we have to write a summary on the points causing the Salem Witch Trials in America.
