". . . up. Eve, wake up. Wake up!"
"You reckon she cast a Silencio around her bed?"
"I don't know, but she looks dead. Should I slap her? Ooh, what if I shoot an Aguamenti at her face?"
"No, Kate. Here, let me just . . ."
Something poked into Eve's cheek, whatever it was relentlessly exerting pressure into her skin and dragging her away from the wonderful sock puppet rendition of The Great Gatsby she was currently experiencing. The green light across the bay that sock puppet-Gatsby was staring melancholically at flickered, and the dream faded away into oblivion as Eve drifted into consciousness.
She cracked her eyes open a sliver, flinching at the brightness of the world beyond her eyelids. A blurry outline of two circular shapes came into view, the fuzzy details slowly refining to reveal two human faces peering down at her.
"Oh goody, you're alive," Kate remarked, sarcastically wiping sweat off her brow from behind Sophie, who retracted her index finger from Eve's cheek. "Thought you died in your sleep with how long it took just to get you to even move."
Eve blinked up at them unseeingly before electing to omit a response, pulling her blanket over her head and burrowing back into comfortable darkness. The coolness of the silk surrounding her along with the lack of brightness created the perfect formula for a nice sleep, and Eve felt herself smoothly slip right back into—
"Oi! Lumos!" The blanket was immediately ripped off of Eve, exposing her entire body to frigid air and extreme lustrousness, which was radiating from some light source very close to her face. She heard herself make a noise like some rabid animal before curling into herself and flipping over, smushing her face into her pillow.
"Oh, Merlin—Eve! Get up!" Fingers clutched at her shoulders, shaking them. "It's your first day! You're going to miss breakfast!"
". . ."
"Eve!"
"No. . . . Five more minutes. . . ."
A sigh. "Pull her up, Soph."
Eve felt something close around her wrists. Two hands grasped onto her, dragging her upwards and away from the heavenly surface of her bed. The loss of the silk beneath her body caused her to groan loudly as she was propped up by the side of her bed, her back against the bottom right bedpost as vertigo hit her.
She blinked sluggishly, and Kate and Sophie slowly came back into view. They were standing in front of her—Kate had her hands on her hips, and Sophie was examining Eve with concern written over her face. Their hair was neatly styled, and they were both already in their uniforms.
Kate smirked down at her. "Not a morning person?"
"Let me go back to sleep."
"No can do. We're going to be late."
Eve rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, mustering a tired glare up at the two girls. "I hate you guys."
"No offense," Sophie winced, staring at Eve's face, "but those eyebags look horrid. How much sleep did you get last night?"
Eve shrugged, yawning as she stood up and patting Kate and Sophie's backs respectively as she brushed past them. "Not enough. Just . . . pre-first day jitters." She drowsily shuffled towards the bathroom. "Give me . . . give me a few minutes, and I'll be ready to go."
She entered the bathroom and closed the door, her limbs still feeling twice as heavy from having been awoken from her sleep so abruptly. With a sigh, she turned around to face the mirror on the wall—and blanched.
Red, bloodshot eyes stared back at her, rimmed by dark, sunken eyebags (which were somehow worse than yesterday). A bird's nest of hair was piled atop her head, knots and strands and flyaways visible from every angle. Her skin had a pale tinge to it, the characteristic mixing with all the previous ones to give her the appearance of an undead corpse.
Eve stared at her reflection, recoiling slightly.
The day had just started, and she was already looking like a zombie. Wonderful.
—
"Wow, you weren't kidding by 'a few minutes'." Sophie looked down at her watch in surprise when Eve exited the bathroom, tugging uncomfortably at her new Slytherin robes. "That . . . wasn't even five minutes. Carina literally takes a whole hour every morning to get ready."
"A Scourgify on my teeth, another on my face, and a ponytail," listed Eve as she made her way over to her trunk, opening the lid and grabbing the book bag she'd packed last night. A flash of red and gold by the edge of the trunk caught her eye—her Gryffindor patch was halfway visible from where she'd hidden it underneath some schoolbooks. She quickly covered it from view with a sock and stood up, slinging her book bag over her shoulder and wiping the red and gold out of her mind.
"Wait." She then frowned, whipping her head left and right, the absence of her fourth roommate now glaringly obvious. "Speaking of Carina—where even is she?"
"Left over half an hour ago," answered Kate, rolling her eyes from where she stood by the door. "She always leaves early—and thank fuck for that."
Sophie hoisted her own book bag over her shoulder and looked over at Eve. "Ready to go? You have all your books and supplies?"
"Yeah."
"Your schedule?"
"Yeah."
"Parchment, quills, and ink?"
"Yeah, got that."
"Extra parchment, quills, and ink?"
"Um—"
"Oh, stop being a mum." Kate yanked Sophie's arm towards her, officially ending the girl's bombardment of questions. "C'mon, let's goooo. I'm hungry." She opened the door, ushering Sophie and Eve through before following and slamming it behind them.
Unlike last night, the dim corridor outside of the dorms was now crowded with students. First-years and sixth-years alike hustled through the narrow hallway, stuffing schoolbooks into their bags and hastily brushing their hair with their fingers. A young girl was running down the corridor, hurriedly applying makeup with one hand and no mirror.
"Looks like we're not the only ones almost late," remarked Eve, grimacing when she tried to squeeze through a crowd of younger students and felt the sharp point of a quill poke into her side.
"Yeah, it's always like this during the first week of school," said Sophie. They reached the spiral staircase that led to the common room and started to descend. "Most people are still on their summer schedule—waking up late, you know. Give it a few days, and it'll be less of a madhouse every morning."
They exited the dim stairwell and entered the Slytherin Common Room, and Eve couldn't help but look around in wonder.
She hadn't thought it would, but the morning sunlight extended below the lake and into the common room. Instead of murky darkness outside of the tall windows by the side, the water outside was now a pale, greenish color, illuminated by the warm glow of the sun above. As she stared, a small school of fish swam past the glass, creating streams of bubbles with their fins, and disappeared into some point beyond the windows.
The common room itself was more aglow with light than it had been last night. The candles and chandeliers weren't lit; instead, slight sunshine angled into the room from the windows, shining golden-green rays onto a few select students that were gathered below. The fireplace was also devoid of flames, and some older students were seated on the leather couches in front of it. A few portraits on the walls were conversing loudly with each other, disturbing their neighbors that were still dozing away.
"I love this place." Kate grinned from beside Eve. "Just the right mix of spooky and comfy." She passed a group of younger students and waved at them cheerfully, with a few of them reciprocating back, albeit while looking a bit intimidated.
"Yeah," murmured Eve, an image of the Gryffindor Common Room flashing before her eyes as she looked around. Oddly, she didn't feel the pang of homesickness she'd felt when she'd first entered the Slytherin Common Room last night—instead, a spark of curiosity and desire to explore this new setting meticulously set in her chest.
She and Kate sped up their pace to catch up to Sophie, who'd already made it to the entrance of the common room and was rummaging through her book bag, a worried expression on her face.
"You think we'll need Magical Drafts and Potions for class today?" Sophie asked Kate when she and Eve neared, her brows creasing nervously. "I think I left mine in the library yesterday."
"Don't think so. Today's another theoretical lesson, remember?"
"Ooh, right. Thank Merlin."
Eve listened in, interested. Her sleepiness had long faded, replaced with anticipation for the day. It was all still a bit unbelievable—she was seriously about to attend classes fifty years into the past? She was really going to be present at a theoretical lesson in her 1944 Potions class today? Everything felt muddled—just thinking about it in a larger scope made her brain hurt.
They walked through the dungeons, which were–being underground–as dark as they had been last night. Fire pits glistened from the stone walls, the flames illuminating Eve's face as she passed, and her footsteps echoed in the long corridors. When she came down the narrow staircase that connected the dungeons to the Entrance Hall, she couldn't help but squint at the brightness that greeted her, a great contrast to the dimness of where she'd just left.
"Ah, jeez." Kate, who'd come up behind her, similarly shielded her eyes and grimaced. "Get used to this, Eve—it happens every single day." She blinked rapidly before marching forward and linking her arms around Sophie and Eve's, holding up a hand to her ear and looking around dramatically. "Can you guys hear that? Oh—it's my stomach crying for food. Pick up the pace so I can hurry and relieve its suffering already."
Eve laughed at Kate's theatrics, letting herself get dragged forward by the steadfast girl. To the left, the large marble staircase of the Entrance Hall was jam-packed with students. Hordes of them were coming down like a neverending flood, the mixture of students from all four Houses visible by the different House patch colors Eve's eyes could distinguish.
As she moved through the crowd, she couldn't help but feel hyper aware of her own Slytherin robes. It wasn't even a big deal—it wasn't like anyone was paying attention to her, but the green and silver of her House patch suddenly couldn't seem to escape her vision. She looked down at it, the foreignness at donning a non-Gryffindor patch creating an inexplicable itch in her mind—one that had no source, but that she wanted to scratch so badly nonetheless.
As she got closer to the Great Hall, she could make out the shininess of the suits of armor flanking its entrance. The double doors were propped open, revealing House tables that were already halfway full. The professors' table was full—Dippet was seated at the center, chatting with another wizard, and she could see that Dumbledore was seated further to the left.
"Just in time!" Kate yelled in relief from Eve's side as they entered the Great Hall. Without another word, she disentangled her arms from Sophie and Eve's and ran towards the Slytherin table, pumping her fist triumphantly in the air. As Eve watched her slide into her seat, she observed the plain wood of the House tables and professor's table simultaneously disappearing from view all of a sudden. Plates of food materialized down all five tables, and the hall was immediately filled with the aromas of scones, beans, sausages, crumpets, porridge, eggs, bacon, and countless other breakfast dishes.
"You'd never guess that she'd be like this from just looking at her," muttered Sophie, shaking her head but grinning nonetheless as she gazed fondly in the direction of Kate. Eve laughed in reply, and the two of them made their way over to the table, sitting down on either side of Kate, who was already gorging on a Scotch egg, and setting their book bags on the floor by their feet.
Eve gazed at the array of breakfast foods set in front of her, mouth watering and stomach growling. She wasted no time in piling her plate high with food, taking care to nab some extra chocolate chip muffins. They were her favorite—ever since she'd taken a bite out of one in first year on her first day, she'd never turned back. She was happy to note that it looked like the recipe hadn't been changed since 1944.
It had been rough, but she'd gone the last few months without eating the muffins, as the Carrows had somehow seen fit to also control the Hogwarts meal menus. Maybe they'd had some personal vendetta against chocolate chip muffins (though it was most likely just because they'd wanted to deprive students of good food), because the baked goods, along with many other dishes and treats, hadn't appeared once in the Great Hall since the start of the school year.
As she munched down on a muffin, Eve looked around. Surprisingly, no other seventh-year Slytherin had come down to breakfast yet other than Kate, Sophie, and Eve herself.
"Are Abraxas and Alphard skipping breakfast?" she asked Kate, who was swallowing a mouthful of Scotch egg.
Kate wiped her mouth with a napkin before replying. "No, they probably just slept in." She rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, this always happens. They're always late during the first week of—oh look, there they are." She extended her arm to point at the entrance to the Great Hall, and Eve whirled around.
Sure enough, the pair had entered the hall and were walking straight towards the Slytherin table. Abraxas's gelled blonde hair was already falling from its cast, the strands against his forehead even visible from Eve's seat. He caught Eve's eye and waved, grinning widely.
Next to him, Alphard was walking coolly with his hands in his pockets. His dark hair was swept effortlessly, and he cut a dashing figure in his billowing black robes. He gave a greeting nod to Eve as he neared the table and repeated the same to Kate and Sophie.
"Good news," Abraxas said excitedly as he dropped into his seat and immediately grabbed a blueberry scone. "Crockett agreed to buy letterman jackets for the Slytherin Quidditch team!"
Alphard sat down next to him, sighing and shaking his head. "You've been pestering the poor bloke about it ever since you found out he was made Quidditch Captain. I'd be surprised if he didn't agree."
Abraxas ignored him, grinning brightly. "I can't wait to see the look on Furnell's face when we show up in them to the first game." He chomped down on his scone enthusiastically. "I bet twice as many Slytherins are gonna show up to this year's tryouts just because of the jackets."
Eve frowned, pausing mid-bite into a chocolate chip muffin. "Wait, tryouts haven't even been held yet? I thought you said you were already on the team."
Abraxas waved his hand at her casually. "Nah, they're next week. I'm technically not in yet, but I will be." He puffed up his chest proudly. "I've been on it since second year. Not to sound arrogant, but they say I'm the best Chaser Slytherin's had since Gregory Torpin left in 1927."
"Whose 'they'?" Kate asked sarcastically.
"You know what I mean!"
As Kate and Abraxas began to bicker (they seemed to have a knack for doing so), Eve tuned them out and reached over her plate of chocolate chip muffins to grab a slice of toast. With her other hand, she dug her knife into a jar of marmalade and began spreading a thick layer of it onto the toast.
"Oh, hey Riddle!"
Eve jumped, nearly knocking over the jar of marmalade at hearing the name Riddle. She looked up just as Tom Riddle slid into the seat across from her.
"Hello," he said cordially, smiling at Sophie—who'd been the one to greet him—before making eye contact with Eve. "Good morning."
She hadn't even noticed him enter the Great Hall. His black robes were ironed and smooth, the silver of his Slytherin House patch glistening. His black waves were styled neatly, though that one strand was once again brushing against his forehead loosely. The pale, unblemished skin upon his face was a pronounced contrast to Eve's, considering her heavy eyebags and general unhealthy pallor.
In other words, he looked the exact opposite of Eve: neat and put together.
Eve opened her mouth, but she didn't get a chance to reciprocate the greeting before she felt an arm sling itself around her shoulders. She turned around, catching sight of a familiar smiling face—Avery plopped down next to her, grinning. His tie was slightly crooked and his brown hair a bit tousled, as if he'd just gotten out of bed.
"Laurie!" he exclaimed, before grabbing his plate and eagerly beginning to pile various foods onto it.
Despite Riddle's arrival, Eve felt her lips tug upwards automatically. "Hey, Avery. Why were you late?"
"Oh, you know—slept late, woke up late. This guy—" Avery jerked his thumb towards Rosier, who'd just sat down next to him. The blonde gave a friendly wave at Eve. "—stayed up until one in the morning studying and doing homework. On the fourth day of school. I could barely sleep with all that rustling from his schoolbooks."
Rosier raised an eyebrow as he helped himself to some beans on toast. "At least I'm turning in assignments. We're not even a week into school, and you have a D in every single class."
"Ah, well. Some things you just can't control."
"Um, you can control that though. Just turn in your assignments like I keep telling you to."
On the other side of the table, Mulciber, Lestrange, and Carina (Eve frowned—didn't she leave the dorm early?) had arrived and were sitting down. Mulciber set his book bag next to him before silently picking up his knife to spread butter onto a piece of toast, while Lestrange ignored everyone already at the table, immediately angling himself towards Riddle like a desperate puppy. Next to Lestrange, Carina brushed her hair over her shoulders, sniffing disdainfully at the breakfast foods in front of her before daintily picking up an apple slice with her fork.
"How was your first night here at Hogwarts?"
Riddle looked to be ignoring Lestrange's obvious desire to converse with him. The Head Boy was eyeing Eve now, his dark eyes ominously resembling blackholes. He casually speared a string bean with his fork, which Eve probably would have found funny—Voldemort spearing a string bean—if she wasn't currently under his direct scrutiny.
She gazed right back at him, eyes dropping to his fingers—which were absent of any rings—before moving back up to his face. Her eyebags suddenly felt extra heavy on her face. After all, she was staring right at the source of her tiredness this morning.
Concocting a murder plan wasn't a usual part of her night routine, but it was exactly what she'd done last night, up until the wee hours of the early morning.
How to kill Tom Riddle. If only there was an instructional manual.
However, such a thing didn't exist, so Eve had been forced to lie under her covers on the night before her 'first day of Hogwarts' and dig into the deepest abysses of her mind, sacrificing precious hours of sleep to brainstorm for the operation that could be the one that altered the fate of the wizarding world forever, as dramatic as that sounded.
Her knowledge about Riddle wasn't shallow—she knew a lot, had a lot of material on him. Years of narrowly escaping his future self along with the Boy Who Lived had built up quite a library on Voldemort in Eve's mind.
She knew about his Horcruxes—to a large extent, too, mostly from information Harry had relayed to her before: the diary was his first Horcrux (which Dumbledore had told Harry), and he'd already possessed his grandfather's ring during his school years—Harry had seen it around his finger in a memory Dumbledore had showed him of Slughorn, Riddle, and Riddle's followers at school. If he already had the ring on during school in the memory then, but didn't have it on now (Eve snuck another glance at his hands to confirm—yeah, ringless), that meant that it had already been made into a Horcrux—sometime between the time of the memory Harry had witnessed and the current time, Riddle had slipped the ring off his finger, made it into a Horcrux, and hid it somewhere safe.
So, to go by logic: if the ring was already a Horcrux, then the diary—being Riddle's first ever Horcrux, as Dumbledore had said to Harry—was, too.
Furthermore, she knew from Harry's memory-visits with Dumbledore of the only two confirmed murders that had occurred during Riddle's school years: Myrtle and Tom Riddle, Sr. Two deaths equaled two Horcruxes, and Eve doubted that Riddle killed anyone else, considering that one: he was confined in school for most of his years at school (obviously), and two: Dumbledore had clearly done extensive research on Riddle and probably would've known about any more murders he'd committed as a teen. Dumbledore had informed Harry about Myrtle, Tom Riddle, Sr., and no one else. And yes, Dumbledore had proven to be flawed to Eve, but still—the likelihood of him missing an extra kill of Riddle's during Riddle's school years, after keeping such a close eye on him, was absolutely less than one percent.
So, all the evidence and logic pointed to Riddle having made only two of his six Horcruxes during school. The other five. . . . other than the snake (Nagini, was it?), Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Eve had theorized about them being of founders' significance, as Dumbledore had believed and told Harry: Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, and something of Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.
However, those Horcruxes hadn't come into existence yet. The only two that Eve was sure currently existed were the diary and ring, and those were the only two that she'd have to worry about.
She knew the how to kill part of her plan—to simplify it (greatly), she needed to find the diary and the ring, destroy them, and then kill Riddle himself. All while figuring out a way to travel back to 1997, so she could immediately return to her time after killing Riddle.
Dumbledore had told Harry (who had then told Ron, Hermione, and Eve) that Voldemort had been so immersed in evil during their time that he hadn't felt the ring or diary's destruction, and that was a large aspect of importance in Eve's plan. She needed to tread carefully—currently, Voldemort was Tom Riddle: he was a young, seventeen-year-old teenager. In the case that she did manage to get a hold of his Horcruxes, she didn't want to take the chance of him feeling their destruction, discovering what she'd done, and killing her before she had a chance to kill him. She had to be careful and meticulous—she was going to have to gather the ring and diary, destroy them, and kill Riddle immediately after so he'd have no time to feel the loss of his Horcruxes (however that worked) and fight back.
She barely had any idea on the how to carry out part of her plan though.
How was she supposed to destroy the two Horcruxes? Harry had destroyed the diary with a basilisk fang in second year, but Eve wasn't about to try and enter the Chamber of Secrets to get her own. Unlike second year, the basilisk in the Chamber was currently alive (an unsettling thought) down there, and Eve valued her life enough to cross the option of fighting it for one of its fangs immediately off her list. That would just be a suicide mission.
Other than using a basilisk fang or basilisk venom (which she only wished she could just buy in Hogsmeade), Eve had absolutely no idea what else could be used against the diary and ring. It wasn't like she had more experience with destroying Horcruxes, and the process wasn't something she could just find outlined in a schoolbook.
Then again, there wasn't any point in worrying about destroying Horcruxes if she couldn't find any in the first place. Her number one priority was to first somehow get the two Horcruxes, and she could worry about destroying them afterwards.
To do that, however, Eve would have to worm her way next to Riddle. She'd have to somehow covertly get close enough with him to find his closely-guarded Horcruxes, which she could then destroy before she could kill him.
She'd contemplated on faking pureblood supremacy ideals and joining Riddle's inner circle, but the idea was quickly discarded—she'd observed Riddle with his followers: She didn't know how the dynamic was like behind closed doors, but they barely talked about anything in public, acting like distant acquaintances. Despite knowing that Avery was a part of Riddle's followers (although he didn't look it at all), Eve had barely seen him and Riddle interact. Joining Riddle's Death Eater gang seemed like it would situate her as more of a business partner to Riddle than anything else. She would be able to talk to him during any secret Death Eater meetings, but that wasn't sustainable in the long run—she'd never get close enough with him to even get a swipe at his Horcruxes, and that wouldn't get her anywhere.
The best course of action for Eve was to just pretend to stay normal and become Riddle's . . . friend, or something.
Just the thought itself made her want to scoff out loud. When the idea had popped up to the forefront of her mind last night, she'd had to suffocate her giggles with her blanket. It was preposterous, ridiculous, ludicrous, farcical, and just about every other adjective that describes something so wildly illogical and silly. Befriend a murdering psycho with a fragmented soul who causes destruction to the wizarding world in the future?
But she had no other option—was there a better plan? She'd been thrown unexpectedly into the past and given the once-in-a-lifetime chance to prevent lifetimes of suffering. She needed to work with the little that she had, and her current best bet was to somehow forge a close relationship with Riddle.
She doubted Riddle had ever even had a friend. He was probably incapable of making one. Therefore, trying to actually create some sort of genuine friendship with him was completely out of the question. It didn't even have to be real; a one-sided relationship was fine. As long as she played her part and subtly injected herself into his life as just another girl potentially interested in friendship, he couldn't push her away—after all, he had a reputation to uphold: the oh so friendly, polite, and accommodating Head Boy. If he did get annoyed by Eve's pursuit, it wasn't like he could just one day rip off the mask and try to kill her for it. Or something.
Despite that, she recognized that this was still future Voldemort. How does one get close to Voldemort? This wouldn't be like getting to know any other classmate—this was a task, something that would require careful planning and work. At least trying to become Riddle's friend or acquaintance would make Eve seem less hostile to him, in turn hopefully keeping any of his suspicions towards her (if he had any) at bay. Her extremely absurd hope was that she'd somehow build a friend-like relationship with him, however fake on both sides it would be, which would give her access to possibly snoop around and find his Horcruxes. Once she had that under the belt, she'd figure out what to do next.
The oversimplification of it all was laughable, but until she had a better plan, she was stuck with that.
Another source of stress was the prospect of killing—the fact that it was Voldemort Eve was planning to kill helped with processing the idea, but still—she was planning to kill someone. If all worked out, she would kill someone.
How would she do it? Avada Kedavra? She'd never used that spell before, had never even uttered the words.
Eve inwardly shook herself—she hadn't thought that far, and she wasn't about to now. One step at a time. She'd think about that when the time comes.
All that mattered was that she could prevent it all—everything that Voldemort would cause in the future. She had a chance, and if not her then who? And messing with time was tricky—she knew that—but this was Voldemort. Any outcomes apart from her planned ones might be less than favorable, but they'd be outweighed in the grand scheme of things. If she succeeded with Operation Riddle (as she'd taken to calling it in her head), innumerable tragedies would never occur. This was a case of prevention for good, and that was enough to justify tinkering with time for her.
For now, though, it was time to execute her plan. Eve stared at Riddle from across the table. All that thinking last night had given her a migraine—she'd woken up tired, feeling as though it had all been a dream, but now, seeing him in front of her, alive and breathing, made it all real.
He'd asked her a question—How was your first night here at Hogwarts? Replying cordially would be a good start.
"It was great!" Eve mirrored Riddle's smile, maintaining eye contact with him as she tried to exude as much friendliness as she could. "The Slytherin Common Room was so cool—I've never slept underwater before!"
He laughed pleasantly. It sounded casual and smooth and completely fake to her. "I remember thinking the same on my first day. I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the Giant Squid outside the windows too."
"You did?" Her cheeks hurt from the effort to hold her smile. "What happened?"
"I was looking through the windows into the lake, trying to spot any merpeople, and I almost fell over when one of its tentacles suddenly swept across the glass."
Eve was willing to bet that Tom Riddle had probably never fallen over in his entire life.
Just then, a flurry of owls flew into the Great Hall to deliver mail, interrupting them and ending that short interaction. Surprisingly, the rest of breakfast surprisingly passed in a blur—Eve was then swept up into multiple sided conversations, and she hadn't exchanged any more words with Riddle, but she was more than fine with that. She was starting out slow; testing the waters.
When the food had gone down everybody's stomachs and the plates had vanished into thin air, Eve couldn't say that breakfast had been a terrible experience. In fact, it had been the complete opposite—she'd succeeded in conversing a bit with Riddle at the beginning (and thus kickstarting her plan); she'd eaten the chocolate chip muffins she'd so sorely missed for the past few months; she'd petted Abraxas's owl, Dog; and she'd participated in some very enlightening debates on whether or not Dumbledore's beard was real.
"I don't know about that," Abraxas was saying as he stood up from the table. "I heard Gemma Foster say that she once saw him in an abandoned wing of the castle, waving his wand and detaching the beard from his face."
Kate snorted, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she stood by the side of the table, ready to go. "Gemma 'Gossip Mill' Foster has also said that Binns has hooked up with every single female ghost in the castle."
"Eurgh." Eve made a face as she reached into her book bag to pull out her schedule. "I did not need to hear that."
Students were steadily pouring out of the Great Hall's double doors. Alphard, Kate, and Eve were already packed and ready to go, waiting off by the side as Sophie and Abraxas got up from the table. Avery and Rosier had already left, while Riddle was still by the table, staring down (and looking a bit impatient) at Lestrange, who was hurriedly trying to charm away a rogue stitch on his robes. Carina was muttering something to Mulciber from where they stood a little further away, but the latter didn't seem to be really listening.
Looking down at her schedule, Eve could see that her first class was Potions. She suddenly felt like a first-year again, like she'd been swept right back to September 1st, 1991—there was a feeling of trepidation and excitement within her that was only unique to that feeling one got on their first day of school.
As she walked alongside Sophie and Abraxas out of the Great Hall, with Kate and Abraxas behind them and Riddle's crew a bit ahead, she reflected back to last night, when she'd first gone over her schedule. It had been a surprise to see the name Professor Slughorn printed on the parchment—she'd forgotten about the fact that he'd already been teaching at Hogwarts in the 1940s. It wasn't a bad surprise, she'd supposed—she'd liked the jolly professor well enough from her time, and it would be nice to see a familiar face.
At least that was something familiar. Eve looked around at the mass of students around her as she passed underneath the archway of the Great Hall's exit. Cheerful conversations floated through the air, mixing with the sounds of laughter and boisterous chat. The relaxed atmosphere was something she hadn't experienced in a very long time—her last few months at her Hogwarts had been drowned with gray, with hopelessness and despair. There had been no laughs ringing through the air, no casual chatter or teasing jokes. Instead there had been fear, dementors, and torture—three items that were absent from Eve's sight now.
The Hufflepuff walking in front of her shifted, and she was momentarily served a full glimpse of a tall, black-robed Head Boy. Eve perked up. This was an opening—Lestrange, Mulciber, and Carina seemed to be conversing together by the side, and Riddle was by himself.
She slowly adjusted herself, calculatingly drifting away from Sophie's side, though the curly-haired girl was currently preoccupied in what looked to be a very fervent conversation about "stupid bubotubers" with Abraxas, so it wasn't too hard. With a small excuse me to the Hufflepuff, she managed to angle herself and squeeze past him, reappearing right behind Riddle. With a deep breath, she raised the corners of her lips, lifted her hand, and tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned immediately, a guarded expression in his eyes. It shifted away from view, however, when he looked down and found Eve smiling up at him.
"Miss Laurence?" he asked, looking politely confused. "What can I help you with?"
Okay, shit—she suddenly had no idea what to say. She hadn't thought this far yet.
Keeping the smile pasted on her face, Eve casually shifted forward so that she was walking alongside him. "I . . . just wanted to thank you for giving me such a warm welcome to Hogwarts. It was really nice of you, especially since I was a mess and everything at first."
"You don't have to thank me at all," he replied smoothly, tilting his head. "I'm the Head Boy—it's my job. Of course I'd want to make any new student feel welcome here."
"Well, I still really appreciated it." She then cleared her throat, racking her brain for more conversation material. "So, Slughorn. I have him for Potions now. Is he, uh, a good professor? What's he like?"
"Oh, I have Potions now as well."
"Really? That's—great!"
"Indeed." He shot her a charming smile. "Yes, he's a very good professor. Very jovial and good-humored—you'll like him."
"Oooh. I see. That's good. So, um, what's he been teaching these past few days?"
As they made their way across the Entrance Hall and back towards the stairwell that led to the dungeons, Eve kept up her somewhat-stilted conversation with Riddle by asking his inane questions about the Potions class curriculum. It wasn't a very engaging strategy—she could see the slight shine of annoyance through his polite mask—but it kept the talk flowing.
As they passed hordes of students gathered together and rushing to their classes, Eve couldn't help but notice the blatant reaction many of them had towards Riddle. Many hushed their conversations when the Head Boy got close, staring at him in reverence. Girls giggled and whispered behind their hands, and more than enough students would unconsciously shift to make room for him. As Eve was specifically paying attention to these reactions, it probably wasn't as dramatic as she made it all out to be in her head, but it was definitely there. Clearly, Riddle's perfect reputation extended to the entire student body—she was beginning to realize just how much respect he commanded.
"Hi, Tom!" A redheaded girl in Ravenclaw robes waved enthusiastically at Riddle as he and Eve passed her on their way down the staircase to the dungeons. Riddle responded in kind, and Eve watched the girl blush crimson, the apples of her cheeks staining red enough to match her flaming hair.
"You're popular," Eve noted casually as another passing student—a Gryffindor—greeted Riddle.
He shook his head, looking down modestly. "No, I can assure you I'm not. Everybody just knows the Head Boy."
They continued deeper into the dungeons, the air turning colder with every step taken. The silhouettes of Lestrange, Mulciber, and Carina, who'd all gone ahead of them, were getting smaller and smaller, and the distant sound of Kate's laugh was occasionally audible from behind, along with Sophie, Alphard, and Abraxas's voices. Eve was itching to somehow excuse herself from Riddle's side and rejoin them, but her steadfast resolve to at least project a friendly exterior to Riddle prevented the action. If she wanted to forge a close relationship with him, she'd have to first break down the stilted, acquaintance-like barrier between them.
"Here's the Potions classroom," announced Riddle as they came to a stop at the end of the corridor. To their left was a wooden door, which was propped open a crack, and Eve could hear the muffled sound of chatter coming from the occupants already inside. She pulled her robes around herself tightly, both due to the frigid air that came with being so deep in the dungeons and due to her own anticipation.
Riddle pulled on the handle, holding the door open as he gestured courteously for Eve to step in first. She thanked him, brushing past him and surreptitiously shielding away slightly so that her robes didn't come into contact with his.
The Potions classroom barely looked any different than how it appeared back in 1997. The gray stone walls, which were lined with wooden shelves and cupboards, curved upwards to create a domed ceiling. An array of jars containing pickled animals, mysteriously bubbling liquids, and various other potions ingredients donned the shelves, and black matte desks were scattered across the classroom, each fit with two matching stools. In one corner of the room was a student supply cupboard, and in another stood a gigantic basin. A stone gargoyle, smaller than but similar to the one that guarded the Headmaster's office, was crouched atop of the basin, a steady stream of water pouring out of its mouth. The few candles littered across the walls shone light throughout the classroom, though it clearly wasn't enough—there was a dim, hazy atmosphere all over, which was only helped by the fumes that were steadily rising from the large black cauldron at the front of the classroom. Behind the cauldron was a blackboard that stretched from one wall to another, with scribbled chalk instructions visible upon it and a fat leather armchair to its side.
The only visible discrepancy was in the shape of a portly, middle-aged man approaching her with his arms thrown wide open.
"You must be our new student!"
Eve stared. As opposed to his silver-gray hair in 1997, Horace Slughorn currently sported a gingery blonde mustache, the enormous, walrus-like mustache's color complementing the thick tufts of straw-colored hair upon his head. His immensely round stomach was less pronounced than she remembered, but that didn't stop it from seemingly threatening for the buttons of his maroon waistcoat to pop off at any moment. His pudgy fingers were clasped around a grayish wand, which he was currently brandishing around in excitement as he waddled over towards Eve.
"Miss Laurence, is it?" Slughorn reached forward, grasping Eve's hand and shaking it enthusiastically. When she nodded, he let out a booming laugh—though what was so funny, she had no idea. "Oho! Young lady, you've caused quite a ruckus amongst the Hogwarts professors—a new seventh-year Slytherin! We hardly see that!" He then patted her hand, looking apologetic. "I apologize for having been unable to welcome you as your Head of House when you arrived yesterday. I was conversing with the portrait of Jodie Whizzbee—creator of Fizzing Whizbees, see—and I lost track of time!"
"Oh—it's alright, professor." Eve gestured behind her to where Riddle was standing. "Ri-Tom here helped me get settled in."
Slughorn's smile widened when his eyes landed on Riddle. "Tom, m'boy!" he exclaimed, directing his attention onto the Head Boy. The professor had to physically reach up to clap a hand on Riddle's shoulder. "Good to see you, good to see you! Luckily for Miss Laurence, you were available to show her around, eh?" He chuckled.
Yeah, so lucky, Eve thought sarcastically as Riddle humbly replied, "Oh, it was nothing. I just got to know Miss Laurence a bit when I walked her to the Great Hall, and we ate dinner together. I didn't do much."
Slughorn waved his hands around, the end of his wand nearly taking Eve's eye out. "Nonsense!" He then leaned forward to address her in staged whispers, as though he was letting her in on some inside joke: "Tom here always downplays himself. He's a wonderful student! Straight O's on every assignment, the best O.W.L. grades Hogwarts has seen in centuries, and our beloved Head Boy this year!"
"Professor, you flatter me." Riddle's baritone voice was injected with modesty, and Eve was flabbergasted to see tinges of pink appear on his cheeks. How is he able to just blush on command?
"Oh, I'm just stating the facts, m'boy. You're always so polite and welcoming, which I'm sure Miss Laurence can attest to!" Eve forced out a smile of agreement just as Slughorn suddenly held up his hands, as if he'd just had a lightbulb epiphany. "Oho! In fact, Miss Laurence, you're new but clearly familiar with Tom here. Let's see—how about I rearrange the seating arrangement so that you two can be partners for the year? Yes, that's a good idea."
The sentence had barely processed in Eve's brain before Slughorn rushed away. Neither she nor Riddle even had a chance to accept or reject the idea—Slughorn was already on a roll, looking excited.
"Mr. Lestrange!"
At the sound of his voice, Lestrange, who was currently seated alone at a desk near the front of the classroom, looked up. "Yes, Professor?"
"Why don't you go sit by Miss Hale there?" Slughorn pointed towards a desk in the back of the classroom, which was occupied by the sole figure of Sophie. Sometime during Eve's introduction to Slughorn, the others had entered the classroom: Kate and Alphard were seated together a few desks away from Sophie, while Abraxas was on the other side of the classroom, sitting next to a black-haired Gryffindor girl.
Lestrange was staring at Sophie with poorly-concealed contempt, though, for the record, Sophie didn't look quite pleased either. The boy looked back at Slughorn, obviously not fond of this suggested switch. "Is this permanent seating, professor?"
"Yes, Mr. Lestrange."
"Tom and I have always been Potions partners though, sir. Don't you think it ought to stay that way? For familiarity?"
"Oh, nonsense. This can be a change of pace!"
"But—"
"I understand your concern, Mr. Lestrange, but I'm sure you'd work just as wonderfully with Miss Hale. Move along now!"
With no room to argue, Lestrange sat still for a moment before standing up and slowly picking up his book bag. He made his way towards the back of the classroom, a stormy look on his face. Eve watched as he sat down next to Sophie and spared no attention towards her, choosing instead to look forward and direct his glower right at Eve herself, as though she'd somehow inconvenienced him with this change. She quickly looked away to Riddle instead, who'd observed the entire affair with an impassive expression on his face.
If she wasn't mistaken, a streak of something dark flashed across his face as he stared in Lestrange's direction, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Miss Laurence, you'll sit with Tom here." Slughorn gestured at the now-empty desk Lestrange had just vacated. "Class begins in—ah, now!" He clapped his hands. "Have a seat, have a seat."
As the professor turned away to begin class, Eve hurried over to take a seat at her assigned desk, unable to believe her luck when Riddle strode over silently and sat down right next to her. Within the span of a minute, Slughorn had unknowingly aided her immensely and given her a staggering opportunity—by seating her and Riddle together, he'd basically cemented her plan forward. Deskmates in Potions always worked together on brewing and on projects—she and Riddle were going to need to work with each other.
Other than exchanging smiles with each other after sitting down, however, Eve and Riddle didn't get another chance to interact for the rest of class. Like Kate had mentioned in the common room, today's Potions lesson was theoretical: Slughorn spent the entire class lecturing on the Draught of Peace to the otherwise silent class, pacing in front of the blackboard as he jotted down information about the potion on it and occasionally pausing to snack on crystalized pineapple.
While Eve listened to the lesson, she was able to observe Riddle's aristocratic side profile from the corner of her eye. Throughout the entirety of class, he was silent, diligently taking notes and paying attention. In fact, he almost seemed bored at times—he would set his quill down every once in a while and simply stare forward, as though whatever Slughorn was saying was already known material to him.
That didn't seem like an impossible notion—this was Riddle, after all. As per Slughorn's earlier words and descriptions given by Harry, Eve knew of Riddle's brilliant academic reputation. He was academically exceptional—had the best O.W.L. grades Hogwarts has seen in centuries, as Slughorn had said. He was the model student: poor but brilliant, orphaned but brave, handsome but modest—it was no wonder he was able to craft his outer facade so easily and convince everybody of its sincerity.
Eve inconspicuously watched him take notes on the uses of the Draught of Peace. Even his handwriting was perfect—he wrote in cursive, the loops of the letters flowing effortlessly on the parchment. It was a small detail, but a prominent one—if Eve hadn't known better, she'd have only been further convinced that Riddle's blood status was pure-blood, considering that it was only usual for pure-blood families to hire tutors to teach their children to write in cursive.
It was difficult to believe that, below his mask, he was an imposter just like her.
"Don't forget Magical Drafts and Potions on Wednesday!" Slughorn announced at the end of class, his voice barely carrying over the chatter of the students in the classroom, all of them eager to finally leave. "We'll be actually brewing Draughts of Peace!"
Eve was standing by her desk, shaking the cramp from notetaking out of her hand as she simultaneously tried to brainstorm topics of conversation to bring up to Riddle, who was packing up next to her. There were twenty minutes of break time between each class at Hogwarts, and Eve was determined to somehow use the twenty minutes before her second class to her advantage—preferably by engaging in conversation with Riddle.
"I need to meet up with someone." Eve's head jerked up at Riddle's abrupt voice, which paused her inner musings on whether or not she should bring up the topic of Dumbledore's possibly-fake beard to him. He swung his book bag—which, on second glance, looked slightly worn by the edges—onto his shoulder and flashed Eve a quick, apologetic smile. "I'll see you later." He then turned away and joined the crowd of students leaving the classroom, disappearing and leaving Eve alone by the desk, blinking and wondering how he'd been able to excuse himself so fast.
Well, that was fine too—she needed a break from Operation Riddle, anyways. If she tried to tag along with Riddle too much, she'd probably just end up looking desperate and annoying, and she doubted Riddle would appreciate that. He seemed like the last person on Earth to tolerate those kinds of people.
Wait—desperate. The memory of Riddle staring at Lestrange after he'd tried to convince Slughorn to maintain the original seating arrangements suddenly flashed across her mind, and Eve's head jerked up to stare around the classroom. No sight of Lestrange.
She had a very strong feeling that the someone Riddle claimed to need to meet up with was about to get severely punished for reasons along the lines of seeming too desperate and tarnishing his image in front of the entire class.
Well, she actually wasn't sure of the reasons, but she felt disturbingly confident about the punishment part—she was sure that the look she'd seen on Riddle hadn't just been a trick of the light.
She heaved a sigh at the uneasy thought, trying to wipe away guesses for what exact punishment would occur that her brain was involuntarily throwing at her, instead redirecting her attention to her book bag as she finished up her packing. After murmuring a quick goodbye to Slughorn, she stepped into the hallway outside of the classroom, where she realized Kate, Sophie, Abraxas, and Alphard were gathered together.
"Eve!" Abraxas noticed her first. He waved her over. "We were waiting for you. First class at Hogwarts—how was it?"
"Long," Eve answered honestly, massaging her palm as a strange feeling of fondness blossomed in her chest at hearing that they'd stayed behind for her. "God, I hate taking notes."
Alphard shot her a look of concern. "Was everything alright with Riddle?"
The question caught her off guard. "With Riddle? What's wrong with Riddle?"
From beside Alphard, Kate rolled her eyes, pausing the action of tying up her hair to give him a look. "Not this again."
"I was just asking!" Alphard said defensively.
"What's wrong with Riddle?" Eve repeated, looking between Alphard and Abraxas, who were now eyeing each other with pointed expressions. Abraxas answered:
"No, nothing—nothing's wrong with him."
"But—why'd you ask?"
Abraxas shrugged, looking serious. "He just . . . he just doesn't always seem genuine."
"There's something about him," Alphard added, frowning. "He's just too perfect."
"He lives in the Heads dorm now, but we shared a dorm with him for the last six years," continued Abraxas, "and we never saw him do a single questionable thing. Even now, the bloke just spends his days studying and being polite to people. He has those looks and that reputation, but he's never even had a girlfriend. Isn't that a bit weird? Not that I'm judging his choice of romantic tendencies." He paused, considering. "Maybe he swings the other way?"
Alphard shook his head. "No, remember—he brought Chrissy York into the dorm last year."
"Oh, right."
Eve barely had time to consider that bit of information before Sophie was talking.
"Those two have some unspoken grudge against Riddle," Sophie explained, coming over to walk beside Eve. "I don't know why, considering he's a perfectly fine person, but I honestly sort of despise him right now too." She turned so that she was walking backwards, looking thwarted. "I mean, you and I could've been desk partners! I don't know why Slughorn had to stick you with Riddle—what was the point of that? Now I have to sit with Lestrange for the rest of the year, and the tosser acted as though I didn't exist for the entire class period!"
Eve patted Sophie's arm sympathetically. "Slughorn thought I'd be more familiar with Riddle since he showed me around yesterday, so he put us together," she explained.
"Why'd he have to seat Lestrange next to me then? Merlin, I hate my life."
"Yeah, that's tough. . . . But anyway, does Slughorn always eat that much crystallized pineapple during class?"
"Huh—oh, yeah! Loads! I think he survives on it, honestly. Oh—Kate, tell Eve about that one time in fourth year."
"Oh my gosh, yeah—he accidentally dropped a piece of pineapple into Tobey Walsh's Aging Potion when we were brewing those in fourth year, and it exploded and splashed all over half the students in the classroom, and then thin strands of crystallized pineapple started sprouting from their faces, and then they started growing right out of Sluggy's beard!"
"Merlin, it was hilarious. . . ."
—
Eve spent the twenty minutes of break between her first and second periods lolling around the Clock Tower Courtyard with Kate, Abraxas, and Alphard, as Sophie had split from the group halfway and gone to the library to retrieve the Potions book she'd left behind yesterday. The early September weather meant that the morning had opened with sunny, cloud-filled skies, the wind in the air blowing just enough to border on the precipice of chilly. The chirps of birds were audible in the air, and the leaves of the vines that crawled across the sides of the castle rustled.
The four of them—Eve, Kate, Abraxas, and Alphard—were currently playing a very intense game of truth or dare. Besides them, a few more clusters of students were gathered around the courtyard, chatting and laughing, while others occasionally passed by from the castle.
Abraxas sighed, fidgeting with his fingers from where he stood in front of the other three, who were seated on the edge of the antique fountain in the very center of the courtyard. "Dare."
"Dare?" Kate rubbed her hands together impishly, and Abraxas immediately looked regretful.
"Okay, wait. Actually—"
"Nuh uh! No take backs!" Kate looked to be reveling in the look of defeat that came across Abraxas's face before turning her back to him so that she, Eve, and Alphard could huddle together to plot the blonde's demise.
"Stand on the edge of the fountain and scream something embarrassing?" Alphard suggested, glancing between Kate and Eve's faces to gauge their opinions.
Kate considered it, but then shook her head. "Too tame."
Eve peeked over her shoulder to look around at their surroundings. There wasn't much to work with—the group of girls by the edge of the courtyard looked to be leaving, and the younger Slytherins that had been sitting on the other side of the fountain had just left. Only a few other students were scattered across the courtyard, all engrossed in conversations.
She turned back around, whispering, "Make him run circles around the courtyard while singing the rules of Quidditch to a tune?"
Alphard shivered. "I think Abraxas would like that."
The three of them sat there, stumped as they traded mediocre ideas back and forth, only to reject every single one of them.
"Nothing too humiliating, okay?" came Abraxas's worried voice from behind them. None of them bothered to respond, however, too busy trying to stifle their laughter at an idea Kate had suddenly just pitched. It was a wordlessly unanimous decision.
They turned back to Abraxas simultaneously, grinning widely, and he immediately took a step backwards, an expression of fear on his face. "Okay, that was really creepy."
Kate hopped off the fountain ledge and clasped her hands behind her back, pacing around Abraxas like an eagle while Eve and Alphard watched from the fountain, faces split with grins. "We dare you to go up to anyone in the courtyard—anyone but us—and pretend to trip and fall in front of them, and then start fake-crying really loudly while pretending you injured your wrist. And it needs to be convincing."
"That—that's it?" Abraxas looked hopeful. "Okay, that's not too bad."
"And then, when they bend down to ask you if you're okay, get back up and start barking super loud before running away with your arms extended over your head like a ballerina."
"What?! Are you mad? What the fuck is that?!"
"Your dare."
"Wha—you're making me bark?!"
Kate smirked. "Like a dog."
Abraxas looked like he wanted to levitate off the floor and fly away. "C'mon, that's not fair!" he whisper-yelled desperately. "I went easy on you when it was your turn last time!"
"Life's not fair, you twat! And you didn't go easy on Alphard—you made him charge through the Bloody Baron while flapping his robes like a bat!"
"Just this once!"
"No." Kate crossed her arms dramatically. She raised an exaggerated brow at the blonde. "We're waiting." By the fountain, Eve and Alphard both clasped their palms together, shooting Abraxas pouty looks and batting their eyelashes.
He scowled, turning his head left and right as though looking for an escape. When he found none, he sighed, swallowed, and stepped forward. "I despise every single one of you."
Alphard blew a kiss at him.
Kate darted back over to rejoin Eve and Alphard for the show, and they watched as Abraxas squared his shoulders and took some inhumanly-deep breaths. He shot them one last glare before turning left and making his way over to a girl in Hufflepuff robes—his chosen target, then—who was reading a book alone by the edge of the courtyard.
"A Galleon says he backs out," Kate whispered to Alphard, who grinned.
"Deal."
They watched as Abraxas shuffled over to stand next to the Hufflepuff, his hands placed awkwardly by his sides. He seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second—before he suddenly dropped down to the ground like a rag doll.
Eve had to bury her face into Kate's shoulder to stifle her laughter as Abraxas then began to emit the most awful case of fake-crying she'd ever heard in her entire life, rolling around at the Hufflepuff girl's feet as he clutched at his wrist and sobbed in an extremely unconvincing—yet unintentionally funny—way. Even she hadn't sounded that terrible during her crying lessons with Ginny.
The Hufflepuff jumped violently, nearly dropping her book as she looked down, clearly startled. The quiet chatter of the courtyard immediately died down as everybody in the vicinity similarly turned to stare at the source of the crying. Eve and Kate were nearly strangling each other to subdue their laughter, while Alphard had weirdly folded into himself, his shoulders shaking violently with his own suppressed guffaws.
"Are you okay?" Eve heard the Hufflepuff ask Abraxas as she kneeled down next to him, looking a mixture of baffled and worried as she hesitantly reached out to poke the still-crying Abraxas in the shoulder. "I—do you want me to call for someone?"
She had no sooner finished her sentence than Abraxas suddenly ceased the fake-crying and leapt to his feet, causing her to also rise in alarm at his sudden movement and take a few steps backwards. Abraxas then didn't waste any time before opening his mouth and—to use the best adjective to describe it—woofing.
Alphard nearly pushed Eve off the fountain ledge in a fit of hysterics as Abraxas's barking resonated around the still-silent courtyard. Through the haze of tears (of laughter) in her own eyes, Eve could see the tips of the blonde's ears turning red. The Hufflepuff girl had pressed herself to the wall of the castle behind her, staring at Abraxas with wide eyes as he produced a series of loud woofs at her. He simply looked back at her, his pale cheeks visibly flaming from a distance, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.
Then, right amidst his barking, Abraxas's voice cracked audibly, making the woof that it happened during suddenly raise an octave in the middle.
That seemed to be the breaking point for the blonde—his barking cut off and, abruptly, he suddenly turned around and dashed away from the courtyard altogether, disappearing back into the castle and leaving the occupants of the courtyard behind in bewilderment—sans three individuals, all of them tearing up in laughter, who immediately leapt up to follow him.
It was Alphard who found Abraxas hidden in an alcove behind a tapestry. He was red in the face and pacing around the space like a robot. As soon as Alphard, Kate, and Eve entered, he immediately groaned and sank down to the floor, a lifeless look in his eyes.
Kate didn't waste any time. "You forgot the ballerina run!" Despite that, she wiped a stray tear of amusement away. "Still—I think I pissed myself laughing."
Abraxas ignored her, staring vacantly at a spot somewhere over Eve's head. "I'm withdrawing from Hogwarts tonight," he stated simply.
Alphard slapped his friend's shoulder, still chortling. "That was bloody brilliant."
Abraxas only slid his hands into his hair in reply, gripping onto the gelled strands as he emitted what could only be described as a wail of despair. "She was cute! She was cute! I've never embarrassed myself like that in front of a pretty girl before!"
Alphard raised an eyebrow, a few loose chortles still escaping from his lips. "What?"
"That Hufflepuff girl! The dare was fine—humiliating, yeah, but whatever! I chose her 'cause she was by herself, but she had that book hiding her face! I didn't see that she was cute, and then I—I barked at her! Oh, fuck. . . ."
"I think you traumatized her," Eve added, probably unhelpfully, and Abraxas groaned again, slapping his hands over his face.
"My life is over," came his muffled voice. "I'm going to leave Hogwarts, move to Iceland, and live as a hermit for the rest of my existence. Don't try to find me or persuade me to come back."
"We won't," Kate chuckled, and Abraxas widened the gap between his left index and middle fingers just enough to glare at her through it.
Alphard pulled up his sleeve to check his watch. "Second period is in five minutes." He patted Abraxas on the arm before standing up and offering the blonde a hand. "C'mon, quit the moping and get up. Don't worry about it—there's plenty more fish in the sea."
Abraxas stayed still for a moment before dragging his hands off his face, theatrically sighing, and taking Alphard's hand, wobbling slightly when he stood up. "If I'm with any of you in the hallway and that Hufflepuff girl is coming our way, alert me so I can run."
Eve gave him a thumbs up. "Noted." She turned around when Abraxas decided to collapse onto Alphard and restart his dramatics, reaching into her book bag to pull out her schedule and check what her second class was.
Advanced Arithmancy Studies—Professor Selleck
"Kate, where's Professor Selleck's classroom? For Arithmancy?"
"Oh, easy!" Kate, who'd been observing Abraxas's dramatics from the side with a thoroughly-entertained look on her face, slipped out from behind the tapestry, gesturing for Eve to follow. She pointed down the hall. "Here. . . . You just keep going forward, and then make a left there by that second suit of armor, and then you'll see a portrait of floating sheep, which you'll then pass. . . ."
Eve nodded along to Kate's instructions despite not needing them—she had a cover, and she was going to stick to it. As Kate explained the route, Alphard emerged from behind the tapestry as well, closely followed by a hesitant Abraxas, who made sure to scan the hallway from left and right before slipping out.
"You got that?" Kate asked at the end of her verbal directions, and Eve nodded in gratitude.
"Yeah, thank you." She turned to Alphard and Abraxas. "Do either of you have Arithmancy now?"
They both shook their heads. "Alchemy," said Alphard, while Abraxas said, "Ancient Studies."
Eve sighed. "That's too bad." Alchemy, Ancient Studies, and Charms, which Eve knew was Kate's next class, were all on the other side of the castle, which meant that she'd have to walk to Arithmancy by herself.
Kate was bouncing on the soles of her feet. "Okay, then I'm off—Charms is pretty far from this wing of Hogwarts, so I gotta rush." She pointed to Eve as she started to walk away, Alphard and Abraxas at her heel, both boys waving farewell to Eve. "See you after class in the common room?"
"Okay!" Eve called, waving back to her friends as she watched them wander down the opposite direction and grow smaller and smaller, up until they disappeared behind a corner. She then turned around, hand fisting around the strap of her book bag as she blinked at a sudden revelation.
She had friends here. Kate, Sophie, Abraxas, Alphard, Logan (who she hadn't seen since dinner last night and surprisingly missed), and even Avery to an extent—they were her friends.
It was a dissociative realization. She didn't know how to feel about it—on one hand, it was obviously a good thing. Friends! Who didn't want friends?
On the other hand, it meant that she was assimilating into this time. It had only been a day, and she was already creating unexpected connections and relationships, rooting herself into a present that she didn't intend to ever stay in. She didn't want to settle down here—she had a goal, a purpose: achieve what she'd set out to do and then return back to her original time.
No, she was lying to herself—a small part of her did want to settle into this time, loved this time. There was no corruption here in 1944—nothing about this Hogwarts was even remotely similar to the Hogwarts she knew from before. She'd missed this version of the school: the relaxed, cheerful version, where worries and fears manifested in the form of low grades and rejected dates.
Eve felt selfish for thinking this—especially whenever she thought back to her suffering friends from home, currently frozen in time and dependent on her—but it was the truth: even within the span of less than twenty-four hours, this Hogwarts already felt more like home to her than the Hogwarts she'd left behind in 1997.
It was a sobering thought.
—
When Eve arrived outside of the Arithmancy classroom, she couldn't help her heart from beating wildly.
It was absurd—she was no stranger to Arithmancy, having taken it as an elective since third year, but her nerves were suddenly on fire. Maybe it was the prospect of an unfamiliar professor—so far, she'd only taken a class with Slughorn, and he wasn't a foreign figure to her at all. Perhaps the idea of Arithmancy without Professor Vector, who'd been Eve's Arithmancy professor for the past few years, was fueling her anxiety? She had no idea who Professor Selleck was and how he or she was as a person, and the mystery of it all was probably what was causing her to sweat so much.
She reached forward to open the door, but then jumped back when it sprang open by itself.
A middle-aged witch with a mousy brown bob stuck her head out from behind the door, looking just as surprised to see Eve on the other side. "Oh, pardon me—hello! Are you Eve?"
"Yes, I am," Eve answered, her nerves calming slightly, and the witch smiled at her in greeting, opening the door wider to shake Eve's hand. Her grip was firm.
"Welcome to Arithmancy! I'm Professor Selleck." The professor gestured into the classroom. "Come on in, Eve."
Just like how the Potions classroom had been, the Arithmancy classroom looked virtually the same as it did back in 1997. It was a small, simple room—other than the teacher's desk in the very front, only six student desks fit inside, each designed to seat two students. Windows lined the left side of the room, shining warm sunlight through the glass. The walls were bare, creating a very minimalistic environment for learning.
However, confusion bubbled in Eve's chest at the obviously low number of students seated at the desks. Arithmancy had been a less popular elective in 1997 too, mostly due to its difficulty, but not to this extent. In total, only five students (not counting herself) were present: two Gryffindor girls near the front, a Hufflepuff boy and a Ravenclaw boy behind them, and—Eve's brows raised—a familiar head of black waves. Riddle sat by the side, devoid of a desk companion. When he caught Eve's eye, his eyebrows shot up, and he waved.
Eve reciprocated before turning away quickly. "There are only six people in this class?" she asked Selleck, who'd gone to stand behind the desk at the front of the room.
"That's correct," the professor confirmed. "This is a very tight-knit class. Arithmancy's a challenging elective to begin with, so numbers are always low. This class that you're in right now is a specialized one for seventh years, composed of the most academically-determined students, as I'm sure you are!" She smiled warmly at Eve. "I've seen your O.W.L. grades from Dippet."
She then turned to address the already-seated students, most of whom were eyeing Eve curiously. "This is Eve Laurence, a new seventh-year who'll be joining this class." Eve raised her hand in an awkward wave at nobody in particular, sure that the professor's preface was unnecessary—after all, Dippet had already done the same to the entire school last night. "Why don't you all introduce yourselves? Other than Tom—I presume you know Tom already, Eve?" Eve nodded.
There was a moment of silence after Selleck's words, before one of the Gryffindor girls spoke: "Hi, I'm Meera Patil, the Head Girl." She shot Eve a small smile, her resemblance to Parvati and Padma clear as day. "I would've met you yesterday to show you around, but I was sick."
Meera's friend introduced herself as Cindy Feldstein next. The Hufflepuff was Franklin Macmillan, and the Ravenclaw was Holden Cheng. Eve nodded in greeting to all of them—they seemed nice enough.
"Alright, Eve, why don't you go take a seat by Tom?" Selleck pointed at the empty seat right next to Riddle once introductions were over. "Fellow Slytherins, right?"
Luck must be on my side today, Eve thought as she shuffled over to her designated seat.
"Hi," she greeted Riddle, projecting a pleasant exterior despite her body's involuntary shiver when she sat down. She busied herself with pulling out parchment and a quill from her book bag.
"Hello," he replied simply.
"I didn't know you were taking this class."
"I didn't know you were either."
"Well, Arithmancy's an interesting subject."
"That it is."
"Alright, settle down! Class has started." Selleck had pulled out a textbook and was flicking through the pages with her wand, a thick pair of reading glasses settled on the tip of her nose. "Today, we'll be learning about the magical properties of prime numbers."
It was an engaged, focused class. Unlike Slughorn—who, as Eve knew from experience and had witnessed earlier in the morning, favored teaching that depended more on the professor talking than the students—Selleck spent just as much time lecturing as she did directing questions towards her pupils.
As expected, Riddle knew every single one asked to him. Eve wasn't half bad herself, but Riddle just absolutely rolled everyone over. He answered every single question that Selleck asked him with accuracy and ease, looking as though he didn't even need to pause for a moment to think or calculate. It was mind-blowing—other than Hermione Granger, Eve hadn't ever encountered someone who could academically dominate the classroom like Tom Riddle did. By the end of it all, even she had to admit that he really was educationally brilliant like she'd heard.
Occasionally during the class, she'd glance over at Riddle and be reminded of a two things:
Firstly, to straighten her posture, as bizarre as that sounded. Eve just couldn't fathom how he maintained such straight, even posture throughout the entirety of the class—if she didn't know any better, she'd have thought that he'd charmed himself to sit straight.
Secondly, of just how gigantic of an endeavor Operation Riddle was. She'd peek at Riddle's perfect exterior, eyes lingering on the slope of his nose and curve of his cheekbones, and be reminded of just how large of a scope her plan encompassed. For Merlin's sake, she was planning to befriend Voldemort so she could hunt and destroy his Horcruxes before murdering him and traveling back to the future!
She'd already gone through the plan at length multiple times in her head, but it still astounded her whenever she'd rethink about it, despite it being all her own work. It was a phenomenon Eve experienced at times: on the spur of the moment, she'd be hit with an insane feeling of passion and set her heart on a goal, vowing to herself to do everything in her power to meet it and extensively planning on how. However, when she'd reflect back later during a period of lesser motivation, it'd be like viewing the thoughts of a completely different person—she'd fail to summon any of that original zeal for the goal, instead thinking self-deprecating thoughts along the lines of What the fuck was I thinking? and That would never work.
Within the span of the fifty-minute Arithmancy class, Eve probably subjected herself to that exact line of thought at least twenty times, each time after intensely (but hopefully discreetly) staring at Riddle from the corner of her eye, watching him display his intellect by answering difficult Arithmancy questions as if they were nothing, considering what she knew about him—the real him, and then doubting everything about Operation Riddle.
And that was what she was doing now, tuning Selleck out as she ran through that course of thinking once more.
In her head, Operation Riddle had sounded somewhat achievable at first—insane, but achievable. Now, however, as she observed Riddle, the object of her goals, in real time while rerunning through it all, it was cemented into her head just how unreal it all was.
She was just a girl. A girl who'd gone through some tough challenges and dodged some unconventional hurdles in her seventeen years of living, but that was life, because life always had its ups and downs, and so that made her pretty normal by her own standards. She'd never been like Harry: always so accepting of his main role in major events and always willing to take on the weight of the world, and she'd never really possessed much of that conventional Gryffindor courage that everybody praised, the type that caused its owners to place themselves in the path of danger without thought.
It wasn't a feeling of apathy, not all all, but a feeling of insignificance. Eve felt small. She was one person in a world of billions, and this task—one that (phrased in the least dramatic way possible) could profoundly affect the fate of the wizarding world with its outcome—was all on her shoulders, dependent on her.
She didn't possess the persona for something like this. Just thinking about the scope of what she intended to achieve made it all seem insane and unreal in regards to herself and her comfort zone. She'd done some crazy stuff before, but she'd never ventured into such territory.
This wasn't some commonplace mission, like tackling a difficult History of Magic essay or faking sickness to get out of class. It wasn't even like trying to steal the Sword of Gryffindor from the Headmaster's office. This was a mission to murder Voldemort and change history, and there was not one other person in the world who'd ever attempted exactly what Eve was attempting (at least in her context), and that realization made her feel so alone and helpless.
It was demotivating. How was she going to do this? It felt like she was dissociating, like she was viewing the summary of the plan as a side character. She was a side character—always had been. She was never one for the spotlight, preferring the sidelines to charging head-on like how so many of her Gryffindor friends journeyed through life.
So how was she supposed to carry out such a mission? Because this wasn't a fictional book plot, and she wasn't the rich and powerful Jay Gatsby—this was real life, and she was nobody particularly special. There could very well be damning consequences to what she was planning, and this time, she wouldn't be able to just avoid them with the flip of a page.
Selleck was now discussing the properties of the number two at the front of the classroom, and Eve was still covertly watching Riddle, lost in thought.
Tom Riddle. Voldemort. Tom Riddle. Voldemort.
The loop kept repeating in her head as she stared at him, and a plethora of memories emerged to the forefront of her mind, ones that slowly swept into her mind and suddenly buried her despondence under their vividness.
An old, tattered photograph, slightly torn at the edges by age, that Alastor Moody had once showed her years ago in passing, which had depicting the members of the original Order of the Phoenix—except at least half of the people in it had already died by then, victims to their efforts against a prejudiced war—which had been started by a particular wizard—that never should've happened in the first place.
An orphaned, raven-haired boy who'd been condemned to a lonely childhood of neglect and abuse, arriving at what should've been a safe haven only to battle further against the life of danger, fame, and loss that he'd never asked for in the first place.
A frizzy-haired Muggleborn who'd once tearfully confessed—right before abandoning her chance at a seventh-year education—about how scared she felt due to the wizarding community's emphasis on blood status, how much she feared for her life, and what she'd been forced to do to her parents because of that fear.
A nameless individual with only the initials R.A.B. left behind to etch their legacy into the world, who'd sacrificed themselves in a meaningless move against the rise of a terrible regime.
A castle that had once housed so much life within its walls, reduced to a crumbling structure of corruption and fear, becoming a symbol for a prison rather than what it had once been to so many: a home.
And these memories flickered to life inside of Eve, reminders of the graying future that she'd come from and exactly who was responsible for it. They were only select moments and select people out of tens and thousands affected by Voldemort in the future, and not even: there were countless other tragedies that had occurred at his hand—whether directly or indirectly—that Eve didn't personally know about, but she knew of their broad existence just the same.
She was in the past now, and such terrible events had not yet happened, were not set in stone. She held to power to erase them, to make sure they never happened, and she was now reminded of this power, this responsibility that was solely hers, and suddenly Eve didn't feel like a nobody anymore, the original motivation from when she'd first developed Operation Riddle surging through her body, singeing through her brain, and strengthening her resolve once more, until she thought that her mind couldn't possibly feel any more determination.
She gripped her quill tightly just as Selleck directed a question at her from the front of the room.
She answered it correctly.
—
Slughorn had been nice enough to omit any homework after his lesson, but Selleck ended the class with the assignment of a three-feet-long essay on prime numbers, due by next week. Just the fact that Eve was being assigned Arithmancy homework in 1944, had traveled over fifty years into the past and was now being given Arithmancy homework, was a fact that she decided to just not dwell on, because it really didn't even matter—the class itself had been a much-needed thinkfest, and she was now determined more than ever to follow through with Operation Riddle.
Surprisingly, the subject of said operation was the one to strike a conversation with Eve first after class was over.
"That question about prime numbers in numerology was quite complex." Riddle appeared by Eve's side as she was walking for the door, and she tried not to let her surprise show on her face. "Even I had a hard time figuring out the answer."
His ability to make that last sentence not sound conceited was seriously a feat. "Oh. Well." Eve shrugged her shoulders, trying to gauge his motive for talking to her first. "I sort of remember reading about the topic before, so."
Riddle hummed in acknowledgement, his eyes boring into the side of her face as though he was studying some sort of unknown specimen. "Were you taught Arithmancy when you were homeschooled?"
They walked out of the classroom, both bidding farewell to Selleck on the way, before Eve replied.
"Here and there," she answered evasively as they started down the corridor. "My parents just taught me a wide variety of subjects, and I'd read up on anything I found interesting. It was a fairly relaxed curriculum."
"Do you have a favorite subject?"
She didn't really, and she had no idea why he was asking these inane questions to her, but Eve just went with the first class that popped into mind: "Defense Against the Dark Arts." It wasn't necessarily her favorite subject, but she liked it and excelled in it well enough.
Riddle raised an eyebrow. "I'd say that Defense is my favorite subject as well." He looked down in an almost boyish move. "In fact, I hear that Professor Merrythought—the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor—is retiring after this year. If the rumor is true, then I plan to apply for the position after I graduate." His voice turned the slightest bit self-conscious. "I don't know if I'll get it, of course, but I plan to try."
Eve stared.
What was this? She thought that the shock she felt at his words was justifiable. Despite this shy act he was putting on, Riddle had just voluntarily offered information about himself to her—information that she knew was true too. He would end up returning to apply for the teaching position. Obviously, he'd left out the major details about why that was his goal (so he could brainwash his students and gain followers), but it was still a piece of himself that he'd willingly given to Eve.
Before this, she realized, he hadn't spoken about himself at all. From when she'd met him in the Headmaster's office yesterday to seconds before this very moment, Riddle had only ever asked her about herself.
Then again, everything he did was most likely calculated. Maybe this was a technique he was employing on her to humanize himself? To talk about his future career aspirations as though he was just another seventeen-year-old student with normal dreams and goals?
Well, she'd humor him.
"I don't know what I want to do in the future," said Eve honestly. She sighed audibly, the topic still very much a real source of stress for her, despite the fact that she might not even get the chance to pursue a career if Operation Riddle failed. . . . She didn't want to think about that nihilistic thought just yet.
"Not something in the Defense field?" Riddle suggested.
Eve shrugged. "I don't think so. I like the subject and all, but I don't think it's something I would want to pursue as a career."
"I know what you mean." He nodded, and it struck Eve just how normal this conversation sounded. Without context, they'd seem like any other students: two classmates, walking from class and getting to know each other.
She was asking Riddle about the Defense professor—Merrythought—when somebody called her name.
"Eve?" A familiar Ravenclaw prefect had paused in the middle of the main hallway to stare at Eve and Riddle, who were just emerging from a perpendicularly-adjoined side corridor. Logan had his book bag strapped diagonally across his chest, and he was carrying a bottle of water in his hand.
"Logan!" Eve looked up in surprise at the familiar voice. She rushed forward, feeling herself brighten at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"
"I was just coming from Magic Theory." Logan grinned at Eve before looking at Riddle, who was still standing a few feet away, observing the exchange with a polite expression. "Hey, Riddle."
"Jean," Riddle returned, and the two of them gave each other cordial nods.
"Are you busy?" Eve asked Logan, eager to catch up with him. She eyed his book bag—it was filled to the brim with schoolbooks, so much so that she was able to view a few loose seams on its edges.
"Not at all—I was planning to just go to the library or something. Want to come with me?"
That explained the stuffed book bag. Eve felt excitement shoot through her at his invitation—she hadn't seen the 1944 Hogwarts library yet.
"Yeah, of course! I haven't been there yet! Oh—hold on." A thought suddenly popped into her head, and Eve whirled back to Riddle. "Do you happen to be going back to the common room?"
The Head Boy nodded. "I am."
"Would you mind letting Kate know that I'm with a friend if you see her?"
"I wouldn't mind at all." Riddle gave her a courteous smile as he stepped past her, the sleeve of his robes nearly brushing against her own. She immediately pulled back slightly, though it was such a small action that he didn't seem to notice. "I'll let her know you'll be back later?"
"Yes, please."
Riddle nodded as he began to walk away, his tall frame perfectly situated in the center of the hallway as he raised his hand in a stationary wave.
"Thank you." Eve called after him. She watched him get further and further away, the black of his hair and robes marking his figure, only turning back around to Logan when Riddle disappeared around a distant corner.
The Ravenclaw prefect was eyeing her curiously. "You're friends with Riddle?" he asked as they started down the opposite side of the hallway towards the library.
Not yet. "Oh, we just sit near each other at the Slytherin table during meals."
At the word Slytherin, Logan turned to shoot a grin at her. "I didn't expect you to get Sorted into Slytherin. You don't strike me as a Slytherin at all." He sighed in mock-disappointment. "I was rooting for Ravenclaw."
"Yeah, so was I." Or Gryffindor. Or Hufflepuff, honestly. And now I'm in Slytherin with You-Know-Who, planning to murder him.
Logan shrugged and gave her a what-can-you-do expression. "It's too bad. I'll probably barely get to see you in classes because of the different Houses. What's your schedule?"
"Oh—hold up." Eve slid one strap of her book bag down her shoulder, reaching inside to pull out the piece of parchment with her schedule printed on it. She handed it to him. "Check if we have anything together."
"Here, let me see."
They compared their classes, their heads bent over her schedule as they wandered down the hallway. Eve was happy to note that she had Defense with him later in the day, along with Ancient Runes and Charms on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It wasn't much, but it was satisfactory—she was just glad that she'd be able to spend more time with the person who'd basically been her first friend here.
Logan didn't know it, but he'd played a key part in Eve's adjustment to her new situation, her new life. Before she'd encountered him yesterday, she'd been all over the place: stressed, confused, scared, nervous. She'd landed in a familiar—yet foreign place—with no belongings, no identity, and almost nobody she knew—naturally, it was overwhelming.
However, Logan had come up to her, and he'd signified familiarity—just another seventeen-year-old student attending Hogwarts, an identity that she could claim herself. In the half hour she'd spent with him afterwards, she'd finally been able to enjoy some semblance of normalcy: getting to know each other, joking around, touring a (technically) new environment, talking about teachers. It had been fun and exciting, and she allowed herself to forget her worries for a moment.
He had been the introduction she needed to all of this, and for that she was grateful.
"Wait." Logan suddenly paused, bringing up a hand as he stared at Eve. They'd made it to the edge of the hallway, which was joined by another corridor that led directly to the library. A few other students were milling around, chatting quietly and contributing to the relaxed feel in the air.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Do you still want to go to the library, or. . . ."
"Huh?"
"Well, we still have an hour of break before lunch, and I haven't given you that kitchens tour that I promised you yet." Logan's eyes gleamed. "Does now sound like a good time for that?"
Eve looked right back at him. She felt a grin forming on her face. "Now sounds like a perfect time."
