"Are you feeling alright?"
Eve glanced up at Kate, who'd voiced the question. "Yeah, why?"
Kate pointed her chin towards Eve's plate, which was piled up with basically the same amount of food that had been on it since the start of lunch. "You haven't eaten a single thing."
"Oh." Eve poked at some fish and chips with her fork, waving her hand nonchalantly. "I'm just not hungry."
From Kate's right, Sophie leaned over and shot Eve a similar look of concern. "All you did was nibble on a cookie, and lunch is almost over."
"Yeah, well. . . . I actually went to the kitchens earlier with Logan and gorged on a bunch of food, so I'm stuffed."
Both her friends immediately perked up. "The kitchens? You know where the kitchens are?" questioned Kate, looking shocked, while Sophie raised an eyebrow in interest and asked, "Who's Logan?"
"Logan Jean," Eve answered her. "I met him last night." She then turned to Kate, frowning. "Yeah, I know where the kitchens are. You don't?"
"No! I didn't even know students could access them!"
"Huh. From the way Logan was casually talking about it, I thought it was widespread knowledge."
"Wha—it's definitely not!" Kate scooted forward and grasped Eve's hands, a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Can you take me to see them one day? Please?"
"Wow, she has manners," remarked Abraxas offhandedly from across the table, where he'd clearly been eavesdropping. From beside him, Alphard rolled his eyes, no doubt preparing for another squabble match.
Sure enough, Kate's head snapped up at the comment, and Eve saw her eyes narrow dangerously. "What did you just say?"
As Abraxas immediately tried to backpedal on his words, Eve turned back to poke at her chips. They were crispy and hot, perfectly golden—just the way she liked them.
They also didn't appeal to her full stomach at all.
After she and Logan had decided to ditch their plan to go to the library, he'd led her towards the Entrance Hall instead. They'd slipped through a side door and taken a flight of stairs to a lower level of the castle, the path much more familiar to Eve than she'd led on to her Ravenclaw friend. It had brought them to a broad stone basement corridor, which had been brightly lit and littered all over with fruit-themed paintings.
Amongst such paintings had been the gigantic one of a bowl of fruit, which Logan had gestured to with a point and a playful smirk. He'd approached it and stood by its side before turning back around to make eye contact with Eve.
"Would you like to do the honors?"
Eve raised her eyebrows. "Oh—sure." She tentatively stepped forward to stand directly in front of the painting and pasted an expression of uncertainty onto her face. "You said to . . . tickle the pear?"
"Tickle the pear," Logan confirmed, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He observed her with a wide smile, as though he'd just declared the secret recipe for Hogwarts's chocolate chip muffins.
Eve hesitantly raised her arm, lifting her fingers to float just millimeters away from the dried paint of the green pear. From her close position to it, she could see the texture and bumps of the paint upon the canvas.
The last (and only) time Eve had visited the kitchens, Hermione had been the one at the front who'd tickled the pear. Therefore, with the knowledge but without any prior experience, Eve couldn't help but feel incredibly stupid as she moved her fingers in a tickling motion against the painting, her nails nearly taking off flakes of the paint.
It wasn't too hard to feign surprise when the pear instantly changed into a handle, though; the transformation was so sudden—one second saw Eve tickling the pear, and the next saw her immediately jump back towards to the opposite wall of the corridor, startled, as a mouth appeared on the pear's green skin to allow it to emit a high-pitched giggle. Then, the fruit disappeared, replaced by a large green door handle.
Logan stepped forward to exert pressure down on the handle and pull, opening the painting to reveal a large, hollowed out portrait hole behind it. He swept his arm forward, regarding Eve—who was still pressed against the opposite wall of the corridor—with a look of amusement.
"After you."
Not even five steps into the kitchens, and the two of them had been immediately swarmed by at least two dozen house-elves, one half of them pushing food into their arms and the other half offering to make more. Eve had been so overwhelmed by the welcome (and the little arms shoving fresh mince pies and lemon cookies at her) that she'd barely had time to take in her surroundings.
Later, however, after she and Logan had settled down at the end of a table in the room and the elves had left them alone with platters of food in front of them, she'd been able to do so—though there hadn't been anything new for her to observe. Just as it had looked last time she'd been in it, the kitchen had been high-ceilinged and gigantic, its walls lined with various cooking appliances: ovens, refrigerators, countertops, and stoves, all heaped with large quantities of pots and pans. It had been a dimly-lit room with a blazing brick fireplace at one end, and five tables had been set up inside the room in the exact position that the five tables inside the Great Hall upstairs were in.
Eve and Logan had sat at the edge of what would've been the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. With the warmth of the fire directly next to her, the plates of steaming food in front of her, and the sound of the occasional pot clanging from behind her, the hour-long break before lunch had passed like a heartbeat for Eve.
Of course, the engaging conversation with Logan had contributed greatly to that feeling as well—once it had started, it hadn't stopped. Words had flowed between the two of them as easily as how a stream would flow naturally through a forest, despite the fact that they'd alternate between completely different topics at least once every five minutes. Within the span of the hour, Eve had learned that Logan was ambidextrous, was a casual fan of the Wimbourne Wasps (his whole family was), had two younger twin siblings (a brother and sister, both age nine), wanted to go into the Ministry's Department of International Magical Cooperation, had visited thirteen countries (and counting), listened to Muggle music (Jimmy Dorsey and Glenn Miller were his favorites) sometimes, loved strawberries and hated blueberries, had a fear of gnomes after having been bit by one as a toddler, and had replaced his wand three times in his life (it was broken once, stolen once, and lost once).
Similarly, Logan had left with much more personal knowledge about Eve, even though much of it was fake. She'd tried to inject as much truth into her lies as she could—it hadn't felt fair for her to receive so much particulars from Logan about himself and not reciprocate with the same amount of sincerity. So, she'd tried her best to weave as much true information about herself as she could've done into her words: amongst the fake lies of herself that she'd detailed, she'd said that she'd eaten chocolate chip muffins for breakfast almost every day for the past six years, was an only child, had three friends that she'd briefly met in France but lost contact with (a loose lie), used to have an extremely greasy and bat-like Potions tutor, was terrible at chess, and had once paid somebody to set off a Dungbomb during a party.
Luckily, they hadn't traded too many personal details, which might've actually been Logan's doing—he hadn't steered towards such topics much, most likely out of consideration for Eve and her parents' still-fresh incident, which she'd mentioned briefly during the early minutes of their conversation (he'd given her a squeeze in the hand, and that was all). So, Eve had been saved from feeling too guilty for spewing lies about herself to her friend.
Instead, they'd spent the hour going back and forth between some of the randomest conversation topics Eve had ever had the pleasure of conversing about: wondering if it was worth it to steal the Sorting Hat from the Headmaster's office and give it a wash in exchange for two Galleons (they both agreed yes for the sake of future first-years' scalps), debating on whether or not eggs tasted good (a hard no for Eve, considering she gagged every time she tried to swallow eggs), and exchanging the worst names they'd ever heard used in the real world (Dick for Eve and Johnson Smalls for Logan—how had somebody even been named that?). During a moment of spontaneity, they'd even agreed to tell each other one secret that had never been told to anybody else: Logan's had been that whenever his siblings bought Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, he'd secretly take out all the good ones for himself (and his siblings still didn't know—they thought that the jelly bean company had placed a curse on them), and Eve's had been that she'd once turned the neighbor's dog blue in a fit of accidental magic (and—at least from when she'd left 1997—it still was).
Of course, they'd eaten food during the entirety of it all, from kippers to beef casserole to fried tomatoes to finger sandwiches. There had seemed to be a never ending supply of food at their table, as the house-elves had kept coming over and refilling their emptied plates. Eve had been especially partial to the custard tarts, which she'd swallowed more than a dozen of. She'd left the kitchens in the end having gained at least half her body weight (or at least feeling as though she had), as well as in high spirits alongside a friend she'd gotten to know a little bit more.
—
After separating from Kate and Abraxas—neither of whom took N.E.W.T. Transfiguration—after lunch, Eve, Sophie, and Alphard went on their way to Classroom 1B, the Transfiguration classroom, which was conveniently located on the ground floor of the castle. It was only a short distance away from the Great Hall, which meant that they arrived as some of the earliest students. Riddle, Lestrange, Carina, Avery, and Rosier entered not even seconds later, but by then Eve's attention had been diverted onto someone else.
Dumbledore was seated at the professor's desk at the front of the classroom, waving his wand in the air to flick through a pile of papers in front of him. Today, he was wearing pale blue robes, which flowed over him and clashed horribly with his auburn beard. His spectacles lay on the desk, right next to a grand red quill, a full inkpot, and a stack of small books.
Eve started forward towards him enthusiastically, ready to greet the one person she'd felt familiar with since landing in 1944, but halted her steps and stopped herself just as quickly, remembering the professor's warning to her the day before:
"I would like to ask for you to refrain from talking about your situation with me unless absolutely necessary. I myself will only discuss anything related to it with you when I have updates regarding research. I think it is in the best interest for your safety to limit our talk about your situation to as little as possible."
There wasn't only that, but also Riddle's suspicions:
"Are you close with Professor Dumbledore? I noticed you two talking quite secretively in Professor Dippet's office, and you left Professor Dumbledore's office earlier today, right before I bumped into you. I was just wondering how you'd become so close to him on only your first day here. Close enough to warrant a personal meeting with him."
Well, she obviously wasn't about to straight up begin conversing about her situation with Dumbledore right there and then, but it would do good for her to tone it down a bit and put noticeable distance between the two of them, lest her other classmates begin questioning her on why she seemed so familiar with him.
Eve forced herself to slow her gait as she approached Dumbledore and to address him as any new student would to their new professor: politely and slightly timidly.
"Good morning, professor."
Dumbledore looked up and, at the sight of her, smiled graciously. "Miss Laurence!" He set his wand down and rose from his chair, his robes sweeping from behind him. "Welcome to N.E.W.T. Transfiguration. What can I do for you?"
"Thank you, sir." Eve grinned back, trying not to let too much excitement at attending a class taught by Albus Dumbledore himself show on her face. "I was just wondering where I'm supposed to sit."
"Ah, a valid concern. Let me see." Dumbledore moved around his desk and past the several lit candlesticks behind it, coming up to stand in the center area by the front of the room, his stature tall and his hands clasped behind his back. Eve spun around to follow him, turning just fast enough to catch slight movement in her peripheral vision.
If she hadn't been mistaken, she'd just caught the turning motion of Riddle's head—as though he'd been observing her exchange with Dumbledore.
But that couldn't be possible—Riddle looked to be currently engaged mid-conversation with the Hufflepuff girl sitting next to him (who was drooling over Riddle more than actually listening to him) from where he sat by the side of the classroom, like he'd never been staring at the front of the class in the first place.
Eve narrowed her eyes, wondering if they'd been playing tricks on her. When Dumbledore directed her to sit near the other side of the classroom, right next to an amiable-looking Hufflepuff girl, she obeyed with a quick thanks and made her way over, unable to shake off a lingering feeling of uneasiness.
"Hi." Eve's Hufflepuff deskmate spoke first as Eve was settling down and pulling out materials for the class. Her voice sounded vaguely familiar and had a very sweet quality, which matched her outward appearance: big eyes and a cute, heart-shaped face, framed by soft-looking brown hair. She possessed a sort of innocent air to her; when she smiled at Eve, the corners of her eyes crinkled. "I'm Lila."
Eve returned the smile as she stacked a pile of Transfiguration schoolbooks in front of her. "Hi, I'm Eve. Nice to meet you."
"You too!" Lila pointed at the gray strands of hair on either side of Eve's face. "I like what you've done with your hair color! It's unique."
"Oh, thank you! It's—uh, natural."
Lila only shrugged. "I still like it!" She mimicked letting out a large sigh of relief. "I'm just glad you're here—I thought I'd have to sit through the class this year without anybody to talk to, which would've been such a bummer."
Eve furrowed her eyebrows. "Is this class boring or something?" she asked, playing into her role as a curious new student.
"Oh, no!" Lila quickly shook her head. "It's just personal preference—I just like to have a deskmate! No, Transfiguration's actually really fun! Professor Dumbledore likes to balance the class with an even mix of theory and experiential learning, so you learn while you play, basically. There's a lot of homework sometimes, but we also get to turn teacups into gerbils and bowling balls into balloons, so I'd say it's even. . . . "
Lila's words were actually interesting, as Eve really did have no idea how Dumbledore's classes operated and appreciated the beforehand knowledge. However, as the Hufflepuff continued speaking, Eve couldn't help but experience an odd sense of déjà vu, almost as if. . . .
"Wait!"
Eve's sudden outburst caused Lila to stop midway between detailing Dumbledore's occasional extra credit opportunities and to stare at Eve, a look of concern migrating onto her face. "Are you okay?"
The words reverberated around Eve's mind, replicated verbatim and in the exact tone from the courtyard incident earlier in the day, and her suspicions were confirmed: "You're the girl from the courtyard!"
Lila looked puzzled, before recognition suddenly sparked in her face. "Oh—are you referencing that event with the blonde Slytherin who, um, barked at me today?"
"Yeah! That . . . that was you, right?"
"Yes—how do you know about it? Were you there?"
"Yeah, I just didn't recognize you sooner because I didn't really get a good look at your face in the courtyard. That blonde was actually my friend, Abraxas Malfoy." My friend, Abraxas Malfoy. A Malfoy. What a sentence. "He did that as part of a dare, and then he was supposed to run off with his arms curved over his head like a ballerina, but I think he got too embarrassed and forgot that part, 'cause he kept whining on after about withdrawing from Hogwarts and living as a hermit in Iceland or something. . . ." Eve trailed off, cringing. She probably wasn't gaining Abraxas any cool points from Lila with her explanation. "Yeah—it was a dare. Sorry, uh, if it was weird."
"Ooh." Luckily, Lila only giggled, looking endearingly-amused. "I was wondering what that stunt was all about. I was kind of confused at first, but it was funny." Her laugh then slowly faded. "You said . . . Abraxas Malfoy?"
Eve nodded, unsure of what that reaction meant. Maybe Lila and Abraxas didn't get along? She had a hard time imagining Abraxas (or Lila for the matter, based on her interaction with the genial Hufflepuff so far) feuding with anyone.
"I guess . . . I'm just surprised." Lila looked contemplative as she fiddled with her quill, her brows drawn slightly downwards. "I didn't know that he's the type of person to participate in things like dares." She wrung her hands. "I'm not sure if you know, but the name Malfoy has a reputation—one that isn't fully good."
Oh, I know alright. But Eve only nodded as though she was hearing this for the first time, gesturing for Lila to continue.
"I haven't shared a class with him since third year, so I don't really know him." Lila looked down at her lap. "I guess I always thought—because of his last name—that he was . . . well, a stuck-up, arrogant pure-blood idealist."
Eve thought she detected a slight shade of shame in Lila's voice, as if it genuinely upset her that she'd held the wrong opinion of Abraxas all this time because of automatic assumptions.
And Eve decided that she liked Lila.
"Hey, it's no worries," she comforted the Hufflepuff, who was now visibly frowning at herself. "I get it." And she did—after all, hadn't she assumed the same of Abraxas before she'd gotten to know him? And then she'd become his friend, allowing her to toss all those assumptions right out the window along the way.
Lila managed to shoot Eve a grateful smile just as the bell indicating the start of class rang throughout the classroom. By now, the room was filled up with students—it looked as though N.E.W.T. Transfiguration was a popular class, as the already-huge classroom had almost every inch of its available space occupied, with a few students still rushing through the doors. Both Sophie and Alphard were seated by the wall right next to a row of high windows, not too far from Eve's desk. Carina had a look of contempt on her face from where she sat rigidly next to a sandy-haired Hufflepuff boy, and Lestrange, who was a few seats away, his desk right next to Riddle's, was similarly ignoring his deskmate.
Eve discreetly eyed Lestrange closely. There seemed to be nothing amiss with him—he wore his usual expression of slight disdain upon his face, as though he was sitting within a pool of slugs instead of a classroom of people. His robes were smooth, his skin unblemished, and not one hair on his head was out of place.
She would've almost been fooled if not for the fact that Lestrange seemed to be looking anywhere but in Riddle's direction.
That was out of the ordinary. From what Eve had seen so far during her time in 1944, Lestrange always seemed to be stuck by Riddle like a barnacle, whether that meant always engaging the Head Boy in conversations during meals (which sounded as though they were meant to impress, Eve had gleaned from eavesdropping during breakfast this morning, but only succeeded in sounding extremely boring) or remaining by his side when walking in the corridors. Whatever the dynamic between Riddle and Lestrange was like, the former seemed to have a great deal of the latter's loyalty.
Of course, that was what Riddle obviously wanted, or else Eve didn't doubt that he would've shaken off Lestrange a long time ago. With a devout follower of such a powerful name, Riddle had basically cemented for himself an endless supply of connections and funding for his eventual rise into the Voldemort title.
Now in the Transfiguration classroom, however, despite his nonchalant appearance, Lestrange was actively looking in the exact opposite direction of where Riddle currently sat at the desk right next to his, a stark contrast to his usual behavior. In fact, he had his entire head turned, as if even glancing towards Riddle's general vicinity would result in a hex to the head.
Eve wondered what Riddle had done to him.
The Cruciatus? Maiming that was concealed by Lestrange's robes?
Clearly, as she'd suspected after Potions, something had happened between the two Slytherins. She obviously didn't know the exacts of why or what, but it had obviously been great enough to have Riddle's most desperate sycophant follower avoiding him and refusing to capitalize on his current proximity to spew more about how my father did blah blah blah at the Ministry today or how my uncle is the head of blah blah blah and commands blah blah blah.
But then again, Eve thought as Dumbledore took the stage at the front of the classroom to begin class, it doesn't have anything to do with me. She could theorize all she wanted but, at the end of the day, the only thing she had to worry about was making sure that whatever Riddle had done to Lestrange didn't happen to her.
—
In class, Dumbledore had them try to transfigure toads into toadstools.
"This is our first practical lesson of the year," Lila whispered excitedly to Eve as the toads were being handed out to all the students. "The instructions sounded a bit confusing, but I'm sure we can achieve toadstools."
Eve eyed the toad that had been set in front of her carefully, gripping her wand in case the amphibian decided to take a leap off the desk. It wasn't an invalid concern—she heard Avery yelp from the front of his class and watched as his toad jumped off his desk ledge, landing somewhere by one of the bookshelves to the side.
"Now," Dumbledore called to the class, "do not be worried if you do not perform the transfiguration today. It is a complex performance that may require at least two more lessons of practice, so do not feel pressured to succeed so soon."
Chatter and the movement of wands—along with occasional ribbets from the toads—then became ubiquitous throughout the classroom as students began their efforts to transfigure their toads. Sounds of disappointment were also quick to rise around Eve as attempts were made and failed repeatedly.
Eve raised her own wand. While this particular transfiguration was quite difficult, she had hope—after all, she'd mastered it already.
It looked as though the Hogwarts's N.E.W.T. Transfiguration curriculum was one that barely budged, as McGonagall had taught this exact same transfiguration during Eve's first week of seventh year in 1997. Eve had struggled with it, too—so much more than usual Transfiguration material, in fact, that she'd had to practice on her own for multiple hours outside of class until she was able to get to hang of it and felt confident enough to transfigure Neville's toad, Trevor, to and back from a toadstool (though she'd only tried that once for the sake of poor Neville's nerves).
Of course, it had been a while, and so much had happened since then that Eve doubted she could get it on her first try. She pointed her wand determinedly at her toad, focusing on visualizing a large, red toadstool before murmuring the incantation under her breath.
Just as she predicted, the toad stayed exactly the same, its big glossy eyes staring up at her, and she repressed a sigh, raising her wand instead to try again.
—
Not surprisingly, Riddle had been the first one to successfully transfigure his toad into a toadstool.
Surprisingly, Eve had been the second.
In fact, only seconds after cheers had be heard from Riddle's side of the classroom when his toad had unmistakably transformed into a speckled toadstool, cheers had similarly erupted from the other side of the classroom, products of Eve's successful transfiguration of her toad into a crimson toadstool as well.
She hadn't even meant for it to happen. Class had been nearing its end, and she'd been halfheartedly waving her wand at her toad while chatting with Lila on the side, having all but given up. She hadn't even been aiming to succeed.
Maybe she'd been fueled by Riddle's success? Whatever it was, she'd completed the transfiguration, and she'd been the only one other than Riddle to have done so during the class period. It felt pretty good.
"That was brilliant!" Lila gushed to Eve, the two of them now exiting the classroom. Class had just ended, and the students were all filing out. "It looked so effortless—you were chatting to me, barely looking at your toad, and then it transformed!"
Eve scratched her neck. "Stroke of luck?" Or prior experience of the exact same lesson topic.
Lila laughed. "Or maybe you're just smart."
They parted ways in the hallway, Lila giving Eve one small wave before turning around and rushing away. Eve turned around as well and, upon seeing Sophie and Alphard waiting by the side, started for them.
"That was Lila Carey, right?" asked Alphard, motioning in the direction that Lila had gone as Eve reached him. He looked thoughtful, like he was trying to piece together a difficult puzzle. "Doesn't she look like the girl from the courtyard earlier? I didn't get a good look at her face, but the hair looks similar."
Eve grinned. "She is the girl!"
"No way."
"Yeah! I didn't get a good look at the girl's face either, but Lila's voice sounded familiar, so I asked her, and it was her!"
"What'd she think of the dare?"
"She said she was confused at first, but she found it funny."
Alphard slapped his knee. "Oh, Abraxas will love this. Wait until he hears that we all have a class with her."
"Merlin, I wish I'd been there to see the dare in action." lamented Sophie, who'd been put-out ever since she'd heard about the Abraxas Dare of 1994 (as Kate had taken to call it) and realized that she'd missed it. She sighed sadly, pulling a small envelope out of her bookbag and waving it in the air. "Anyways, I'm off again—I need to head to the Owlery to send a letter to my brothers. Meet you both in the Common Room."
Eve was quick to strike. "Wait, the Owlery?" She remembered that, as a new student, she hadn't technically toured the Owlery yet. "I haven't been there yet—can I come along?"
"Oh yeah, of course! It won't be long—my little brothers want me to send them a letter every week, and I just forgot to send it yesterday."
They waved goodbye to Alphard and started down the opposite side of the hallway, Sophie chattering on about her two younger brothers and Eve nodding along and occasionally laughing at the anecdotes, all while thinking about how much she wished she could send a letter to her own mum.
—
Classroom 3C, otherwise known as the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, looked vastly different from how it had in 1997.
As opposed to when it had then been utilized by Amycus (who had saw fit to rid the environment of anything remotely decorative and had instead installed shackles onto the walls so that the classroom had resembled a prison cell more than anything else), the Classroom 3C of 1944 was brightly lit and accessorized with a plethora of different objects. Apart from the rows of wooden desks occupying the long, central area of the room, there were several tables scattered by the sides, all bearing various types of Defense artifacts and trinkets: obsidian chests, cages with murky shadows moving within them, little round smoking objects, and what looked to be very small Secrecy Sensors. An iron chandelier hung from the high arches of the vaulted ceiling, as well as a dragon's skeleton. Paintings and candles adorned the stone walls, though the candles were currently not in use; instead, the curtains by the sets of tall, paned windows on the side of the classroom were pulled open, allowing rays of bright sunlight to filter in through the glass. A large blackboard encompassed the front wall of the classroom, visible from behind a raised platform on which a grand mahogany desk stood.
The decoration of the classroom, which Eve had seen evolve during the many years of different Defense professors she'd had, reminded her most of a mix between Professor Lupin and Barty Crouch Junior's (or Fake Moody) styles of ornament—warm, but serious.
She was currently standing amongst a throng of students by the front of the classroom, squished beside Kate, Sophie, and Alphard. Professor Merrythought—a sharply-dressed woman who reminded Eve of McGonagall—had instructed every student who'd entered the classroom to wait by the blackboard instead of taking a seat at their desk. Why, nobody seemed to know—all the students around Eve were murmuring in confusion, her and her friends included.
"Does every Defense class start with us all getting squashed by each other?" asked Eve as she uncomfortably shifted on her feet, nearly tripping into Kate in the process. "I think the fragrance of body odor is gonna permanently stain my robes."
"Maybe Merrythought's assigning a new seating chart?" Sophie guessed, twisting her body so that she wasn't getting crushed by the Ravenclaw beside her. She made a face when the sleeve of his robes accidentally whipped into her cheek.
From Eve's right, Alphard frowned. "But it's only the fifth day of school. And Merrythought never cared about seating before."
"It's not seating," came Abraxas's voice from somewhere behind them. Eve heard the sound of shuffling and grunting, and then the blonde appeared by her side, sweating slightly. "Merlin, it feels like I'm being compressed into a Galleon in here."
Kate eyed him skeptically. "How do you know it's not seating?"
"Well, I'm not positive, but I think I have a good idea of what's going on." Abraxas leaned down, lowering his voice so that it was only audible to the five of them. "I have some older friends who've graduated, and I remember one of them mentioning something about a dueling diagnostic in seventh year N.E.W.T. Defense a few years back."
The words seemed to come as a surprise to everyone, Eve included. "A dueling diagnostic?" whispered Kate, excitement blooming on her face. "Is that what's happening?"
Abraxas shrugged. "Maybe—I'm not sure." He paused. "Well, I also accidentally overheard Merrythought talking about it with Dippet the other day, so actually yeah, I'm sure."
"What'd she say?" Eve and Kate asked simultaneously.
"I didn't hear much—just the words dueling diagnostic, but that can't be a coincidence, right? I put two and two together just now. It's gotta be that."
Sophie and Kate began chattering eagerly about the prospect, while Alphard mused, "I wonder how it's going to work," looking deep in thought as he absently drummed his fingers against the schoolbook he was holding.
Intrigue tugged at Eve. She'd never experienced any sort of dueling diagnostic in Defense; none of her past Defense professors had enforced anything like that. Was Merrythought going to pair everybody up and have each pair duel each other? She suddenly felt a thread of nervousness within her—she had plenty of dueling experience outside of the classroom, but none inside.
"Attention!"
The chatter of the crowd of students dwindled down immediately at the sound of Merrythought's voice. Eve wasn't surprised—the professor, who was now standing in front of them all, radiated the exact character of someone able to command respect just by walking into a room.
Bet Riddle's jealous of how naturally she does it without needing to project a fake personality, she thought scathingly, turning her head to try and spot the Head Boy, who she'd seen enter the classroom earlier, amongst the sea of students around her, but to no avail. She did notice a disgruntled Lestrange getting crushed between two unsuspecting Ravenclaw girls, though, and the sight immediately lifted her spirits.
"I am sure you are all wondering why I have asked you to remain standing," said Merrythought, and there was a murmur of agreement from the crowd of students in front of her. "Today, I am bringing back something that has not happened in this class in many years." She paused for a moment, allowing the students to vibrate with curiosity. Even Eve, who already knew what was coming, leaned forward in anticipation. "We will be holding a dueling diagnostic."
The class immediately erupted with a wave of excitement. People were jostling each other around, and whispers of "No way!" could be heard from multiple spots throughout the crowd. The enthusiasm in the air was palpable.
"Settle down!" called Merrythought, and the excited chatter lowered so that her next words were audible: "As this is a diagnostic, I will not be grading any of the performances—this is just for me to see where each of you are on a practical standpoint in dueling. The rules are simple, so I expect each and every one of you to follow them: a pair of students will duel in front of the class, and the winner—whoever is able to disarm their opponent—will move onto the next round to duel another student."
"In front of the entire class?" Kate bemoaned, looking noticeably less excited. "I'm gonna lose the second my duel starts."
A Ravenclaw boy in the front raised his hand, and when Merrythought nodded at him, voiced his inquiry: "What kind of spells are we allowed to use, Professor?"
"That is a very good question, Mr. Brocklehurst." Merrythought turned to address the class as a whole. "In order to test your full capabilities, I am placing limited boundaries on what type of magic is not allowed. The only concrete rule is that no Dark Magic is allowed, which should go without saying." Her voice then turned very serious. "However, I will be able to tell when any spell that is cast is meant to hurt your opponent, and that will not be tolerated. Any more questions?"
When nobody else spoke, Merrythought then drew her wand from her robes. "Now, I will need to clear an area for the dueling." She promptly turned around, her back now facing the students, and raised her wand in the air. With a clean flick of it, all the empty students desks in front of her simultaneously rose in the air, hovering above the wooden floor in an impressive feat of magic. Another flick, and they all zoomed through the air, flying backwards and neatly stacking on top of each other so that the center of the classroom was now a large, clear expanse of wood, offering the perfect amount of space for dueling.
"Alright, you may all come around and create a circle around the central area of the classroom," instructed Merrythought, beckoning for everyone to step forward. The throng of students by the blackboard slowly dispersed at her words, fanning out around the edges of the classroom, and Eve felt only relief to be finally escaping from the confines of the sweltering crowd.
"I'm nervous," Sophie confessed to Eve and Kate as they settled by a less populated corner, Abraxas and Alphard right next to them. "Which doesn't even make sense—this isn't even for a grade!"
Alphard patted her on the shoulder in an encouraging manner. "Everybody's probably a bit nervous right now. Think of this as a fun opportunity—I mean, it's not everyday that Merrythought lets us duel in class."
"Easy for you to say," Kate grumbled. "You're actually good at dueling—I'm just going to embarrass myself out there." She turned to Eve. "Eve, are you any good?"
"Oh. . . ." Eve didn't know how to respond. She herself could humbly acknowledge that she was good (and she had the D.A. and the multiple adventures with Harry Potter that she'd gone on to thank for that), but the homeschooled Eve Laurence who'd vacationed to France and had been recently orphaned wasn't supposed to possess any great dueling prowess. "I mean. . . . I'm decent, I guess. Nothing too great, but—"
She broke off at the sight of three new people approaching her: Logan and two other unfamiliar Ravenclaws were making their way over. One was a wiry, brown-haired boy, and the other was a short Asian girl with her long, black hair plaited over her shoulder. The girl who'd been next to Logan during dinner last night, Eve recognized.
Logan smiled at her when he reached her, his gray-blue eyes wide with excitement. He had his wand clasped loosely around one hand. "Hey."
"Hi," Eve returned in surprise, having not spotted him in the crowd of students earlier. "You're in this class?"
He laughed. "Yeah. We compared our schedules, remember?" He then gestured towards the two Ravenclaw by his side. "Ah—these are my friends, Yoora and Jacob. Yoora and Jacob, this is Eve."
"Nice to meet you," said the girl—Yoora. She grinned impishly at Eve. "Logan's been talking nonstop about you."
By the side, both Kate and Abraxas, who were clearly eavesdropping, raised their eyebrows at that, while Logan looked a bit flustered. "Hey, you're exaggerating a bit now."
The brown haired boy, Jacob, smirked, and clapped his hand on Logan's back. "Whatever you say, mate." He turned to Eve and gave her a friendly smile. "It's nice to meet you."
"You too." Eve smiled back, but she didn't get a chance to exchange any more pleasantries—Merrythought was standing in the center of the classroom, and she'd just called the name of two student to begin the duels:
"Kate Sinclair and Benjamin Brocklehurst!"
Kate brought a hand up to her forehead. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
—
Eve's name was called about fifteen minutes into the duels, after Kate and Logan had already gone.
After a chorus of good lucks and encouraging smiles from her friends, she withdrew her wand from her robes and stepped forward, raising her head high as she walked towards Jacob—who happened to be her opponent (and he'd done pretty well so far, having already beaten four others)—who was waiting in the center of the classroom.
Any nervousness within Eve had considerably drained away since the duels had begun. Even the energy of the class, which had been tense with anxiousness at the very beginning, had now shifted into one of excitement again. There wasn't anything to feel tense about—each of the eight duels that had happened already had only lasted two minutes at most. It would just be a quick exchange of spells, and then it would be over.
In fact, Eve was feeling pretty confident. Barely any complicated spells had been cast in the duels that had occurred so far, and that was useful in her case: it meant that there was no need for her to display any complex spells, so she could cast a few moderate spells and coast by as just another average Defense student.
Jacob grinned at her as she positioned herself in a dueling stance opposite of him. Good luck, he mouthed, and she did the same.
"Wands at the ready," Merrythought called from the sidelines. They both raised their wands steadily. "Begin!"
As soon as the word left Merrythought's lips, Jacob lunged forward, waving his wand in the air to send a hex towards Eve. She immediately threw up a Protego before shooting a spell back at him, the streak of purple narrowly missing his ear as he ducked sideways. From his half-bent position, he threw a Disarming Charm forward, which Eve quickly parried with another Protego—after all, she'd always preferred defense over offense. Jacob raised his wand determinedly, ready to send another spell at Eve—
—and was promptly hit by Eve's Expelliarmus, which she'd casted before her Protego.
That was . . . anticlimactic, she thought as Jacob's wand flew through the air in an arc. She caught it with her left hand just as the class began applauding around her. What had that been? Forty seconds?
"Nice go," complimented Jacob as he passed Eve, giving her an impressed look.
She reciprocated with a genuine smile—sore losers were one of her biggest pet peeves, and his comment proved that he wasn't one. "You too."
After that, Merrythought set her up against Avery, who bounded up to the center with an excited expression on his face. It was an easy win—Avery seemed to be more eager about the fact that he was dueling Eve than the fact that he was dueling, and Eve had him disarmed not even thirty seconds in.
Next, she was up against Rachel Fischer, a Ravenclaw who, to her credit, held her ground pretty well. It took two minutes of back-and-forth Protegos, Expelliarmuses, and the occasional Titillando (though why Rachel felt it was necessary to cast the Tickling Hex against a strong Shield Charm, Eve had no idea) before Eve had Rachel's wand clasped victoriously around her hand.
"Mr. Mulciber!" Merrythought announced for Eve's next opponent, looking up from her clipboard of student names. Eve turned and watched as the gathering of students by the left of the classroom parted slightly, allowing for Mulciber to emerge and step forward.
However, he wasn't the only person that Eve now had a clear view of—right next to Mulciber, Riddle had shifted to the front of the gathering, his classic expression of politeness set on his face as he stood silently at the prow. Even from afar, Eve could see that he was staring directly at her, and she immediately averted her eyes, pretending to be watching Mulciber instead as he walked towards her.
She'd almost forgotten about Riddle! He'd been standing in the back before, so she hadn't noticed him, but for some reason, he'd chosen now of all times to move to the forefront, that infuriating expression of polite curiosity still upon his face. As Mulciber got into a dueling stance and Merrythought commanded them to raise their wands, Eve took a few deep breaths. It was unnerving to have young Voldemort's eyes gazing upon her as she was about to duel someone, but the only thing she could do was try to tune him out.
And so she did, focusing her attention onto Mulciber and brandishing her wand as the duel began.
Immediately, Mulciber's skill stood out—he was good. Really good. Much better than her previous three opponents, who had all just been underwhelming in the nicest way possible. He casted Impedimenta quicker than Eve could throw out a spell, and it nearly hit Eve in her surprise at his adeptness and preciseness. She didn't even have time to throw up a Protego though, luckily, she managed to dodge the spell at the last second, and it embedded itself into the wall behind her.
She shook herself, recovering her wits just as another hex came flying towards her, a jet of green sparks. This time, however, she was prepared—she countered with the Shield Charm and sent a Petrificus Totalus following it, which Mulciber easily sidestepped. He raised his wand, giving it a complicated twist, and three spells of blinding purple light emerged, flying in succession towards her, and she felt the full brunt of them as they met and strained against her Protego.
Then, in a move that she hadn't anticipated at all, he shot an Expelliarmus towards her, but she'd only been able to classify it as so due to the red color of the spell.
He'd cast it nonverbally.
Eve distantly heard a few impressed gasps come from the other students, but she barely registered them. She felt stupid about feeling surprised at it herself. Of course Mulciber could do nonverbal magic—he was a bloody Death Eater in the making! Who knows—maybe even Avery had hidden dueling skills that he was hiding as a part of Riddle's master plan or something.
She gritted her teeth, steeling herself and suppressing the urge to give into the challenge.
Maybe Mulciber could cast nonverbal magic, but so could she.
One would be foolish to not brush up on their practical defense skills if they ran around with the Boy Who Lived as a best friend. The D.A. meetings in fifth year hadn't hurt, but they hadn't been enough. The Battle of the Department of Mysteries had been the last straw for Eve—she'd always counted herself as proficient in defensive spellcasting, but after seeing the expression on her mum's face when she'd walked into Eve's room in St. Mungo's, not to mention Eve nearly dying at the hands of Voldemort's followers, she'd given herself an ultimatum: improve her dueling, or abandon Harry if she wanted to make it even past graduation.
The last option hadn't even been an option, of course, so she'd committed to the former.
Whether that meant staying behind in the library with Hermione to read up on theories of nonverbal spellcasting, or making specific trips to the library herself to check out books on wandless magic, or foregoing sleep to practice casting in the Room of Requirement, or actually listening to Snape in sixth year Defense—she'd devoted herself to the effort to take her dueling skills to the highest possible degree they could reach.
And her hard work had paid off—the proficiency in defense she'd already acquired from years of experience hands-on only improved, and she found her skills developing further and faster the more she dedicated to her endeavor. Suddenly, she found herself casting her very first bit of nonverbal magic one day, and then her very first wandless bit of magic another. Suddenly, she found that certain spells' pronunciation and wand movements paired better with others to be cast in succession rapidly, and that there were certain spells that were easier to cast after a specifically draining one that would ensure she kept up her defense while her energy replenished. Suddenly, she found a whole universe of useful spells and hexes and curses that she'd never even heard of but might come in handy one day, like if Death Eaters ever infiltrated Hogwarts at the end of her sixth year, or if she ever participated in a, say, dueling diagnostic.
And now she couldn't put her hard work to use, because how would it look if the homeschooled orphan, who'd only been casting Protegos and Expelliarmuses up until this point, suddenly began shooting Mulciber with Reviendo Corerios and nonverbal Eviciniuses?
She mentally shook herself. Yeah, no—she needed to hold back. Even if that made it a whole lot harder—Eve grunted as the full force of Mulciber's Incarcerous blasted against her shield—she couldn't expose herself. One misstep, and her entire cover would be blown. For Merlin's sake, Riddle was witnessing this! If he became suspicious . . .
Eve thrust her wand downwards so that the Incarcerous exploded into a shower of sparks before slashing her wand through the air once more and sending a Locomotor Mortis towards Mulciber, internally shaking herself again and letting her focus slip solely onto the duel. Maybe it would be harder to defeat Mulciber with only half of her skill able to be used, but Eve had faith in herself. All that practice throughout the years hadn't been for nothing.
And, as Mulciber flung yet another Impedimenta at her, Eve spotted a crucial detail that she knew she never would've been aware of had she not taken the initiative to advance her offensive and defensive magic skills:
Mulciber's flaw was that he was offense-oriented. He was so focused on attacking Eve and keeping up his offensive front that he hadn't bothered to even cast a single defensive spell yet. He was depending on his repeated offensive spells to eventually wear her out and make her vulnerable.
His dueling skills weren't common (he really was good, and Eve could admit that), but his flaw was. Eve almost felt sorry as she shot an Impedimenta back at him, which he ducked, but she'd expected that—and she'd already sent an Expelliarmus that way.
The Disarming Spell zoomed towards Mulciber, the red of it illuminating his face just before impact to reveal slight surprise, the first bit of emotion she'd seen on him other than impassiveness, before intensely slamming into his chest and knocking him backwards. His wand immediately rose into the air, flying in a graceful arc into Eve's already-outstretched hand.
Noise erupted from around the classroom. Her classmates were wildly clapping, and she heard wolf whistles coming from the corner where her friends stood. Kate blew her a kiss when she caught her eye.
"Well done to both Miss Laurence and Mr. Mulciber!" Even Merrythought looked impressed, an expression that Eve came to find as the class continued was rare for the professor to sport. "That was a wonderful duel!"
It really had been—challenging, too. The first bit of slight challenge magic-wise that Eve had encountered in 1944. Although half of that challenge stemmed from the fact that she hadn't been able to tap into her full dueling capabilities, she couldn't deny that Mulciber had been a highly competent opponent. She could see why Riddle kept him around. . . .
Oh no.
Suddenly, the ceaseless clapping from around her faded into a murky, distant noise, making way for the sound of her own rising heartbeat to pound audibly in her eardrums. Her limbs, which had only seconds ago been fueled with adrenaline, felt numb and heavy with suddenly-lost energy, victim to a revelation that just occurred.
With the little bit of energy she did have, she focused on staring anywhere but in the direction of where she knew a certain Head Boy stood.
How could I have been so stupid?
There was a reason for everything Riddle did. If he chose to strike up a conversation about future career aspirations, then his reason for doing so was probably to convey the exterior of a normal, hopeful seventeen-year-old. If he left a specific curl on his head loose to hang over his brow, then his reason for doing so was probably to showcase a character that was almost perfect, but just barely there. If he chose to not drink coffee, then his reason for doing so was probably to avoid staining his straight, perfect white teeth. In fact, if he chose to sit three millimeters away from where he'd sat the day before at the Slytherin dining table, then he probably had a reason for it too.
Riddle had chosen to move to the front right when Mulciber had been announced as her opponent, and she'd brushed it off like an idiot. Eve wanted to slap herself. Of course he would've moved to have a clear vantage point of observance to judge how well she could take on one of his best duelers (no doubt)!
And she'd just proven that she could.
Eve had to get off the stage, out of the spotlight—if Riddle wasn't suspicious of her already, then he wasn't Riddle.
She barely even registered Merrythought calling Sophie forward until her friend had stepped up opposite of her and positioned herself into a dueling stance.
Good luck, mouthed Sophie, giving her an encouraging smile. Eve returned the sentiment weakly, though her mind was someplace else.
She had to intentionally lose this round so she could walk off and hide away. Hopefully, the loss would diminish or at least lessen any bit of suspicion that Riddle was probably harboring towards her. She'd just hold her ground for a minute—maybe shoot some impressive spells (so that it didn't look like she'd suddenly reduced to total incompetence) to play it off convincingly—before pretending to unsuccessfully dodge an Expelliarmus. Or something.
She exhaled just as Sophie began the duel with a well-aimed Jelly-Brain Jinx, one that Eve immediately parried with her classic shield. She followed it with a quick jet of purple, the spell nearly hitting Sophie had she not erected her own Protego at the last second. Despite the fast-paced duel, Eve saw a flash of Sophie's grin from behind her shield, and she couldn't help but copy. This reminded her of D.A. meetings, of fun yet challenging duels with her classmates and friends from within the walls of the Room of Requirement. If she zeroed in and tuned out enough, she could almost pretend that this was just another practice duel during a D.A. meeting, and she was in the Room, just battling a friend for mere enjoyment purposes, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione were just nearby, and nothing was wrong, and she'd never time traveled, and it wasn't in 1944, and she wasn't being closely observed by a young Voldemort who was probably realizing at this current moment that something about her wasn't right.
Eve saw the Expelliarmus coming before it was even cast. She calculatingly shot her own Expelliarmus a fraction of a second later before widening her eyes visibly and waving her wand again, as if she was hurriedly about to cast a Protego against Sophie's incoming spell. But—as she'd planned—there wasn't enough of a time frame for her to do so, and she felt a blast of energy against her sternum, the impact causing her to take a few steps back and her wand to fly out of her grip, launching through the air towards Sophie, who caught it and raised it in a victorious yet amicable manner. She didn't wait to begin walking over to Eve.
"I didn't know you were so good at dueling," accused Sophie teasingly as Eve met her in the center of the classroom to exchange a few words before Sophie's next opponent was announced.
"Oh, don't even. That's the winner of the duel speaking. You were amazing!"
Sophie's smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Thanks. I didn't think I'd win—especially against you! That duel between you and Mulciber—Merlin, I actually got goosebumps when I was watching!"
Eve laughed, pushing down a sudden feeling of guilt. After all, Sophie's win technically hadn't been authentic. "Oh, thanks—you're making me blush." She then noticed Merrythought consulting her clipboard of student names over Sophie's shoulder, and she nudged her friend. "I think you have to go now."
"Oh, great—I'm nervous again. Wish me luck!"
"Good luck!" Eve gave Sophie two thumbs up as she began to walk off the central dueling area and towards where Kate, Abraxas, Alphard, and Logan were staring at her eagerly, no doubt ready to pepper her with enthusiasm.
And of course Riddle had to ruin it.
Any relief that Eve felt at having been able to worm her way out of the duels disappeared instantly when she caught sight of him. She had a hand to her forehead to wipe a few beads of sweat away, and the angle of her index and middle fingers allowed her a brief glimpse of Riddle, who was still visibly standing by the side of the classroom, through them inconspicuously—and what she saw sent chills throughout her entire body.
His eyes were narrowed, and his gaze was stuck on her intently. He wasn't even masking his stare. Gone was the polite curiosity that he'd sported when he was watching her duel with Mulciber—even from afar, the impassive expression on his face was clear, and, while it wouldn't indicate anything out of the ordinary to anyone else observing his face, it indicated to Eve that he was onto her.
She hadn't succeeded in shaking him off of her trial. She'd done the exact opposite.
He knew that she'd feigned her defeat—of course he did. She didn't put it past him to have been off to the side while she'd been dueling, categorizing her every move and identifying her dueling style. A victory against Mulciber to a loss against Sophie may have seemed believable to everyone else, but Riddle, who was familiar with both Mulciber and–most likely—Eve's dueling at this point, would've noticed the sudden drop in performance, no matter how smooth Eve had tried to make it.
Eve gulped, lowering her hand and immediately making her way over to her friends without it seeming like she was rushing. Her heart was hammering; she barely took in the praise that her friends began showering her with, murmuring thanks and thank you as she quickly squeezed into the back, sandwiching herself out of sight between the two tall bodies of Abraxas and Alphard.
This was bad attention. This wasn't the type of attention from Riddle she was supposed to be gaining to achieve Operation Riddle. Her mind was racing.
What was Riddle going to do?
He seemed to be the only one that found her defeat suspicious, so it wasn't like he would corner her and confront her. That wouldn't accomplish anything—she could just lie and turn his accusations onto him so that he'd appear to be the insane one.
Yes, he wouldn't do anything direct—Eve was certain of that. This was Tom Riddle—unless he had concrete evidence of something against her, he wouldn't strike. She was sure he'd up his questioning game and start keeping a closer eye on her during mealtimes and classes, but that was fine. As long as she didn't slip up somehow, then he couldn't prove anything about whatever he was suspecting about her (she doubted he suspected she was a time traveler from the future—duh—but he definitely thought something, and that wasn't good). All she had to do was to act normal and play up to the persona she and Dumbledore had crafted for her, all while keeping her guard up around Riddle and his followers—even Avery and Rosier. One could never be too careful.
Eve let out a slow, deep breath, her paranoia receding a bit. For now, she was safe.
"You okay?" Kate whispered over to her just as the duel between Sophie and a lanky-looking Ravenclaw boy began. "You look kind of pale."
"Huh? Oh—yeah, thanks. The dueling just drained me a bit, that's all."
"Oh yeah, I get you. I was only up against Brocklehurst for a minute, but it sucked all the energy out of me. My hands were actually shaking when I walked off."
"You were good though—that Furnunculus was really well-aimed. I don't think he expected you to attack his nether regions."
"Thanks! I was actually aiming for his head, but my wand somehow veered off course, so it j—oh, look, Sophie just shot a Furnunculus too! Aw, it actually hit his head."
The rest of the class period passed in a blur. Surprisingly, Abraxas was a formidable duelist—he defeated Sophie, Yoora, and two other students before eventually losing to a fast-moving Ravenclaw.
Riddle had gone later on and, as Eve (and probably everybody else) had expected, won against every single opponent pitched to him, including Alphard (who Kate hadn't been joking about earlier; he was clearly one of the best in the class). Against her better judgment, she'd actually been excited to see Riddle duel—after all, witnessing seventeen-year-old Voldemort dueling wasn't exactly a common event.
However, she'd just been disappointed—his duels had been just impressive enough to top everybody else's performances (with enough nonverbal spells mixed in just to top Mulciber), but not so much so that they were insanely spectacular. Eve didn't doubt that he was holding himself back, only projecting a fraction of his talent to uphold his fake exterior. After all, this was young Voldemort—he'd grow up to eventually duel even Dumbledore himself. As scary as the thought was, Riddle could definitely do much better than what he'd portrayed in class.
"C'mon, let's go to the library," said Eve as soon as the bell ending class rang, wasting no time in waving bye to Logan and his friends while ushering her Slytherin friends towards the door. "Study group before dinner, right?"
Sophie frowned as she let herself get dragged by Eve. "Yeah, but why are you in such a rush?"
"Uh—"
"Oh!" Kate snapped her fingers, her left arm linked around Eve's right one as she was similarly pulled forward. "You haven't seen the library yet, right?"
"That—yes!" Eve pointed at her in agreement, nodding vigorously. "I have not! And I heard, uh, that it's really great, so I've been really excited to see it. So let's move it and get there quickly before it gets crowded."
"The library doesn't really get crowded," Abraxas pointed out from behind them, but Eve pretended she didn't hear him.
She actually hadn't seen the 1944 Hogwarts Library yet, that was true, and she was excited to see it for the first time, but that fact only played a small factor in why she was basically barreling her way towards the exit.
Her main motivation was, of course, to avoid a certain young Dark Lord.
A young Dark Lord who was, thankfully, currently being kept behind by Merrythought. Eve snuck a quick look over her shoulder and let out a small breath of relief when she spotted Riddle still in the exact place he'd been in right before the bell rang—beside Merrythought's desk, exchanging words with the professor, who had pulled him aside earlier (probably to praise him on his dueling performance).
Luckily, based on the barely-there flash of impatience that Eve saw on Riddle's face, it didn't seem like their conversation was going to end any sooner, but Eve wasn't about to take any chances and give Riddle a possible window of opportunity to catch up to her for any reason. Taking refuge in the library currently sounded like a wonderful idea.
With renewed vigor to ensure a Riddle-free evening, she yanked her friends and herself through the classroom door.
—
"What am I even doing here," muttered Kate, glancing around in distaste. She paced slowly in front of a shelf of books, reaching out to poke the spine of one before immediately drawing her hand back, looking disgusted. "I haven't been in here since first year. Merlin, it just reeks of books and homework and studying."
"Merlin forbid you interact with any of those three things," replied Sophie amusedly as she set a stack of books down onto the table in front of them. She then pulled out a chair from beneath the table and sat down, after which Eve, Kate (although she did so hesitantly), Alphard, and Abraxas did the same, pulling out their own schoolbooks.
They were hidden in the far corner of the Hogwarts Library, well away from the main population of the library (as well as from Madam Smedley, the thin, hawk-eyed librarian who Eve swore was a 1944 reincarnation of Madam Pince), which was mainly scattered throughout its anterior. Occasionally another student would shuffle by, but it was a generally rare occurrence—after all, in addition to them being stuffed in the corner of the library, the table that they'd chosen to sit at was also bordered by two tall, looming bookshelves on the sides that weren't castle walls. The pair of archaic windows on the left wall filtered the afternoon sunlight from outside through its paned glass, the rays providing ample brightness to combat the dimness that was ubiquitous throughout the library.
As opposed to when she'd viewed the 1944 Entrance Hall for the first time, the wonder of stepping into the Hogwarts Library of 1944 had hit Eve slowly. As she'd perused the neverending bookshelves and passed table after table of hardworking students diligently bent over parchment and schoolbooks, a vision of her Hogwarts's library had passed through her mind. It was the exact setting, only many years later, yet it was all essentially the same—books and people.
The library housed history—whether that was in the form of age-old books or mahogany tables that sat and had sat centuries of studious individuals, the library was the one place that seemed to always be at a stalemate in time. It was simultaneously a comforting and exciting thought—comforting because of the familiarity of it all, and exciting because of how much future it lacked. The future that Eve knew.
The magnificent epiphany had steadily come to her. How many books have I read that haven't come into existence yet? Wizarding and Muggle books alike? Other than perhaps the authors of the novels associated, she was the only existing person who could describe how one was to enter Narnia; who the heir to the House of Atreides was; who—or rather what—Big Brother was; and why books were banned in Guy Montag's world.
It was a startling realization to know that she possessed so much knowledge of unborn, wonderful literature that had yet to grace the pages of tomes. It was a kind of realization that made one feel small—but not in a bad way—in comparison to the scope of the world. There was an entire world, and only she knew of any of it.
Eve looked up to the large window next to her. She swept a hand through a ray of sunlight shining through, watching the light cut through her palm and feeling its warmth upon her skin. Although she loved the dim, homely vibe of the library—which was a result of only golden chandeliers and candles being employed as sources of light throughout the entire library—she thought that the sunlight currently shining through the windows was a much better fit for the high energy surrounding the table today, a sort of energy that partnered less with studying and more with unwinding and letting loose.
"You know," said Abraxas randomly, looking thoughtful, "I remember making a promise to myself in first year to visit every House's common room before I graduate."
Beside him, Alphard glanced up from his Transfiguration schoolbook, raising an eyebrow. "How're you going to manage that? No student of a different House can enter another House's common room."
Abraxas shrugged. "Sneak in in the middle of the night? Dunno."
Kate raised her hand from where she was half slumped over the table, a bored expression on her face as she idly twirled a strand of hair with her finger. "If you ever do it, count me in."
"Me too!" Eve grinned, drumming her fingers on the blank piece of parchment in front of her. She'd planned to start her Arithmancy essay, but any sort of productive urge had long passed her." All I know is that the Gryffindor common room is hidden behind a portrait called the Fat Lady in Gryffindor Tower."
Sophie looked over at her curiously. "How do you know that?"
"Oh, I . . . uh, heard from Logan. Yeah, he mentioned it to me yesterday. Randomly."
"Huh. Well, I'm not sneaking into any common rooms with you guys, but I do know that the Hufflepuff one is in the same corridor as the kitchens. I don't know where that is exactly, but Eve's been to the kitchens, so she should know."
Eve nodded. "You take a staircase to a corridor under the Great Hall." She frowned. "I guess the common room must've been somewhere in there too, though I don't remember seeing anything."
Abraxas was now leaning over the unopened schoolbooks in front of him, watching them talk with an openly excited expression on his face. "Wait—you guys are actually considering doing this? I mean, I just mentioned it as a passing thought."
"Why not?" Eve shrugged. The idea of infiltrating House common rooms did sound like a fun adventure—after all, she'd never seen Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff's. "Let's do it—it sounds exciting."
"The Ravenclaw Common Room's in some tower," interjected Kate, who looked to be finally coming out of her bored reverie from being in the library. "I dunno which one—all I know is that you need to answer some sort of riddle to enter the common room." A glint flashed in her eyes. "I say we go for them first."
"No," said Alphard slowly, closing his Transfiguration schoolbook and leaning in. "We're definitely going for Gryffindor first. Let's egg them."
Abraxas looked to be doing some little enthusiastic dance in his seat. "Egg the Gryffindors! Okay!" He whipped his head around eagerly. "What about the other two?"
"Toilet paper the Hufflepuffs?" suggested Eve.
"Dungbomb the Ravenclaws?" offered Kate.
"Yes!" Abraxas exclaimed, rising halfway and pointing at them both in excitement. One could almost believe that Christmas had come early for him. "Toilet paper and Dungbombs! Such splendid, creative ideas!" He turned to a resigned-looking Sophie. "Miss Hale, you'll take part in this special mission, won't you?"
Eve, Kate, and Alphard all clasped their hands and batted their eyelashes simultaneously at Sophie, who now had the entire table turned towards her. She groaned loudly. "Oh, come on."
"You come on!" pleaded Kate, reaching forward to grasp Sophie's hands between her own. "It won't be fun without you! We'll need your wonderful brains to plan our excursions! Please?"
"How are you all even going to snuck through Hogwarts in the middle of the night? Or even infiltrate those common rooms? They all have some sort of password, you won't be able to ju—"
"Ah ah ah ah!" Abraxas interrupted, waving the concerns away and wagging one finger in Sophie's face. "Don't worry about the technicalities. We'll figure it all out." He planted his hands firmly onto the table. "Right now is the recruiting stage."
"And we need you," added Eve, pointing directly at Sophie with mock-seriousness.
Maybe it was due to the four pairs of determined eyes staring directly at her, because it took about one nanosecond for Sophie to cave.
"Oh, alright," she muttered, although Eve could see a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
Kate immediately began bowing rapidly, while Abraxas straightened, placing his hand over his chest and nodding very seriously. "We won't let you down!" With his other hand, he curled it into a fist and pumped it into the air dramatically. "Our seventh year mission!"
"Oh, hush, for Merlin's sake! Smedley is going to kick you out!"
—
"Merlin, I could eat a Hippogriff," groused Kate, and Eve had to agree.
They entered the Great Hall, which was already packed to the brim with students hungry for dinner. Eve's stomach grumbled with every few steps she took—so much so she looked down to glare at it after a particularly loud gurgle. Studying, which they'd eventually gotten to in the library—she'd even gotten halfway through her Arithmancy essay, really did drain all the energy out of her, and her first priority currently was to replenish herself with a plateful of food.
She eagerly rushed towards the Slytherin table, stomach rumbling—before she spotted a head of pristine black waves already there and immediately did a one-eighty, scrambling back and nearly colliding into Alphard.
"Woah!" he exclaimed, quickly reaching out to hold her steady by her shoulders. "You okay?"
"I—yeah, sorry." No! "Um, just lost my balance for a second. Thanks."
"Alright, come on. I can hear your stomach growling from here."
Eve gave him a weak grin as he passed her, but it immediately disappeared to be replaced by full blown panic.
Any appetite she'd possessed had instantly vanished at the sight of Riddle already seated at the table.
She'd managed to shove any thought or worry about him out of her mind for the three hours she'd been in the library—after all, she'd already gone over contingencies and what Riddle's likely plan of action was. And that was to do nothing direct—again, he had no concrete evidence except any of his own suspicions against her. Riddle wouldn't act on such unstabled speculation; there was nothing he could do other than bombard her with cleverly-disguised questions, which she knew he would absolutely do. There was nothing for her to worry about.
But now, seeing Riddle in person for the first time since seeing his unadulterated suspicion aimed at her in Defense just reinforced the fear that she'd felt in that moment.
To have Voldemort look at you like that—she'd never forget it. And just her luck—she had to sit right in front of him.
Eve took a few deep breaths, inching herself forward. She was just psyching herself out—they were in the middle of the bloody Great Hall, for god's sake! The whole school was here—even Dumbledore was up at the professor's table. Riddle wasn't foolish enough to attempt anything here and, if he did try to converse with her or anything, she'd just swerve around it as best she could.
"Hey Avery, Rosier," she greeted nonchalantly as she sat down. "Hey, Tom." Her heart was ramming against her chest.
"Laurie!" Avery beamed, while Rosier returned her greeting with a friendly wave.
"Good evening," replied Riddle, smiling at her in greeting, and Eve detected nothing amiss in neither his voice nor appearance. Still that same smooth tone and same charming smile. She didn't instantly breathe a sigh of relief though—this was Riddle. If there was anybody who could cover up their emotions, it was him.
She quickly grabbed her plate and busied herself with piling food on top of it. Nothing bad was happening, at least—she'd greeted him casually, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary that she was aware of, and things seemed fine. She just had to keep this up throughout dinner.
And she did—almost.
—
Eve.
It was about forty minutes into dinner, and Eve almost swore she just heard Riddle's voice utter her first name.
She'd definitely misheard. Maybe the buzz of the Great Hall had gotten to her.
Eve.
There it was again. She spooned some mashed potatoes into her mouth and chewed.
"Eve."
"Huh—" She looked up and instantly swallowed the mash potato when she met Riddle's unwavering gaze, nearly choking. Oh, Merlin—she hadn't been imagining it. "Sorry—yeah?"
Her name coming out of his mouth sounded wrong. Her friends called her Eve. Harry called her Eve. Hermione called her Eve. Ron called her Eve. Kate, Sophie, Abraxas, and Alphard called her Eve. Riddle wasn't her friend—he didn't qualify to call her Eve.
Although Riddle had insisted on her calling him Tom when they'd first met, he'd never actually reciprocated and called her Eve, which she was only too happy about. Whenever he'd address her, he'd either call her Miss Laurence or directly speak to her with no reference to her name at all.
So him calling her that now . . . he must want something.
Was this a usual technique he employed on girls? Save up the utterance of their first names until a crucial moment, and then deliver said names in that low, smooth voice? Watch as they blushed and swooned and giggled at the fact that Tom Riddle just called me by my name? And then collect whatever information they'd trip all over themselves to eagerly offer?
Eve steeled herself. What was he going to ask her? How were you able to best Mulciber? Where did a homeschooled orphan learn to duel like that? Why did you purposefully lose during your last duel?
"Did you begin the Arithmancy essay?"
Eve blinked, the speculative questions exploding into mist before her eyes. "What?'
"Did you begin the Arithmancy essay?" Riddle repeated patiently.
"I—uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. I'm halfway through."
"Would you mind letting me know what you explained in your introduction to lead into prime numbers?"
A few seconds passed before the question registered in Eve's mind. "Uh, yeah, sure. I, um, mentioned how Arithmancy is a branch of inductive divination that yields unambiguous decisions, which makes it a calculable subject for anyone just because of its solid predictability. For example, the prime number five is always five, and five minus three is always two, and two is an even number. Numbers are universal; they're of a familiar structure to practically everybody. In a way, reality is mathematical in nature—to reference Pythagoras. Um, yeah. That's all."
"Did you reference how number divination stemmed from various early civilizations? Such as the people of ancient Chaldea and their Chaldean System?"
"Well, no—I structured my essay around modern Arithmancy practices in relation to numerology with prime numbers, so I actually mentioned Agrippa's System a lot more. Since it's also the Muggle-familiar method, I thought it'd be more applicable."
Riddle was listening to her intently and, when she finished, lowered his head in a boyish manner. "Thank you—that gave me much more insight on the material. I'm just having a bit of trouble trying to assemble my preface in a format that's relative to the overall argument."
No you aren't, Eve scoffed internally. Tom Riddle? Having trouble with homework? She'd sooner drink basilisk venom than bet that was true.
Nevertheless, he hadn't mentioned Defense or anything remotely related to possible suspicions against her at all, and she was all too grateful for that. She smiled sweetly back at him. "I'm glad I could help."
He maintained eye contact with her as he returned a slightly-bashful smile, the slightest bit of pink appearing on his cheeks. Eve had barely begun to wonder again just how it was possible for him to feign blushing when she jerked in the most miniscule, unnoticable motion, feeling a sudden movement in her head that wasn't her own.
It was the slightest bit of prodding against the already-erect shields in her mind, like a foreign entity had slipped through her ears and was inconspicuously trying to turn every single locked doorknob in her brain. It was a minute sensation, an intrusion that would've otherwise gone unnoticed in an untrained and unfamiliar mind.
Eve immediately shot up in her seat, barely noticing the weird looks that her friends sent her way at her sudden motion. "Excuse me, I just remembered that I need to do something."
She lifted her legs over the bench and promptly turned away before either Riddle or any of her friends could react, walking away from the Slytherin table and towards one filled with blue and bronze–badged robes on instinct. People stared at her curiously as she passed, but nobody stopped her, and she didn't care.
She was operating on pure adrenaline now, scanning for a familiar head of dark brown waves amidst the Ravenclaws. There—by the edge.
"Eve?" called Logan, catching sight of her as she came closer and closer. He smiled, though it was one of confusion. "What're you doing here?"
Across from him sat Jacob and Yoora who—although sporting similar looks of puzzlement—both sent her friendly waves.
"I—a question. I just had a question, and only you guys can answer it."
Logan raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, sure." He patted the empty space next to him. "Sit down. Do you want a plate for food?"
Eve took a seat, waving off the hospitable question. "Oh, I'm alright, thank you. I won't be here long—just . . . I just was wondering where the Ravenclaw Common Room is."
There was a moment of silence as the three Ravenclaws alternated staring at each other before Logan turned back to Eve, befuddlement written all over his expression. "Uh. . . . Could I ask why?"
"Oh, yeah—my friends are playing this betting game for actual money, and one of the questions asked was Where is the Ravenclaw Common Room? And Sophie guessed right next to the kitchens, Abraxas guessed somewhere in the kitchens, Kate guessed an alcove on the fifth floor, and Alphard guessed somewhere behind a portrait on the first floor." The lies were rolling smoothly off her tongue. "But none of us actually know where it is, so we can't continue the game or award a winner 'til we figure it out."
The looks of confusion around her morphed into ones of understanding and amusement.
"Ooh," exclaimed Yoora, clapping her hands. "That sounds fun!" She grinned widely. "Nobody was right, though."
Logan leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper. "We aren't supposed to tell people from other Houses, but. . . ." He winked. "It's on the west side of the castle at the top of a spiral staircase starting on the fifth floor. There's an eagle knocker, and you have to answer its riddle to enter." He receded back again, eyeing her. "Promise you won't tell anyone else?"
Eve extended her pinky finger seriously. "I won't, other than to those previous people I just mentioned. For the bet, you know."
They pinky-swore, and Eve did the same with both Jacob and Yoora, leaving them all grinning at the childishness of the move. Not even seconds later, Jacob's eyes suddenly widened—as though he'd just remembered something—before he launched into a tirade about how Amanda had pinky-swore that she'd send me letters from Beauxbatons, but she never did! He even beckoned for Eve to join the conversation, and she figured that she was safe here for a little while longer, and she finally allowed herself to think.
Legilimency. Riddle was a Legilimens.
The probing feeling—it was gone now, a small tingling of the past that, had she not been one hundred percent certain of what it was, she would've been doubting about hallucinating right now. The inexperienced would have credited it to the onslaught of a headache, or perhaps a migraine, but Eve recognized the attempts of Legilimency when she felt it.
Sixth year had been a busy year for her. In addition to the usual course load of sixth-years and her own time spent practicing defensive spells, she'd piled an extra assignment onto her plate: helping Harry learn Occlumency. He'd been struggling with the task, and what kind of friend would she have been if she hadn't tried to aid him as best as she could?
Of course, it wasn't like she'd known any more about it than he had. Hours and hours in the library had been spent reading up on the theory of Occlumency and Legilimency, and then the knowledge gained from that had been applied to practical practice sessions with Harry and Hermione. The reading and the direct experience—along with Harry's own accounts (rants, rather) of his own sessions with Snape and what the bat would tell him to do—had resulted in Eve's steady acquisition of moderate skills in both Occlumency and Legilimency—Occlumency from trying to learn what to do from Harry's perspective, and Legilimency from practice sessions with Harry during which she'd try to infiltrate his mind.
In no way was she an expert at either, but she'd become proficient enough by the end of it all to at least be able to erect solid Occlumency shields around her mind everyday. It became a habit, something that got easier and easier with each day, especially with the start of her hellish seventh year, until it was something she didn't even need to think about anymore—wake up, Occlude, and go about her day.
And thank Merlin for that. She didn't want to even think about what Riddle could've uncovered had her mind been vulnerable only minutes earlier. She knew he'd eventually act on his suspicions, but she'd completely disregarded the chance of that happening through bloody Legilimency.
Luckily, when she'd felt that slight inkling of him inside her head, she'd gotten up and turned away from his eye contact fast enough that he'd probably attributed his connection getting broken off to that. Her daily Occluding shields' presence wasn't strong, and Riddle's own Legilimency in her head back there had been rather small, so she wasn't too worried that he'd figured out that she'd Occluded against him.
That was a relief—if Riddle knew that she could Occlude on top of witnessing her dueling in Defense, then she was a dead witch. He was already too suspicious—clear by the need he obviously felt to use Legilimency on her in the first place—and she'd only bought herself limited time when she'd escaped from his vision and range to the Ravenclaw table.
How long had it been since she'd left? Five minutes? A quick conversation didn't take that long—she needed to get back so it didn't seem like she'd disappeared for too long.
"Hey, guys," she forced herself to interrupt Logan's monologue about how he actually liked Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans's toothpaste-flavored jelly beans, sending him an apologetic look for interjecting. "I'd better get back to my table—they're all probably waiting to see if any of them won the bet."
They sent her off with warm smiles and companionable waves (after making her promise—with pinky swears—that she'd visit again) and, as Eve trudged back to the Slytherin table, she couldn't help thinking about how easy everything could have been had she been Sorted into Ravenclaw instead.
Her legs felt like molten lead as she stepped closer and closer towards the Slytherin table. Of course, she was pretty sure that Riddle hadn't realized that she'd realized he'd used Legilimency on her and Occluded, but she couldn't be certain. He certainly did seem like he had when he glanced up and shot her a look of concern.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Yeah." Eve tried to ignore how nervous she felt, flashing him a fake smile of sheepishness instead. "Sorry for suddenly leaving—I remembered that I had something really important to ask a friend, and I was afraid that I would forget later."
"Yeah, what was that all about?" asked a frowning Kate, who'd turned to Eve as soon as she'd sat down. Abraxas, Alphard, and Sophie were also staring at her from various seats at the table with concern, waiting for her to answer. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Eve's smile turned genuine at her friends' worry. She wiggled her eyebrows teasingly, aware that Riddle was still watching and listening in. "I'm fine. I actually went to go talk to Logan to glean information about our mission."
Abraxas's eyes widened comically as he instantly leaned across the table. "What? What'd you ask? What'd he say? What'd you find out?"
"Get off, you prick!" Kate shoved Abraxas's left hand, which had—in his excitement—landed dangerously close to her dinner plate. "Eve, just tell us in the common room after dinner."
Riddle had an expression of silent intrigue on his face when Eve met his eyes again, no doubt wondering what this mission was. She forced herself to shake her head in what she hoped was an amused manner, as if to convey: it's just a fun little joke—nothing serious. He only raised an eyebrow before looking away.
Was he fooled by her acts tonight? She didn't know. What she did know was that she had to be on guard now. She needed to stay away for a bit and keep a low profile for a while before she could try to resume Operation Riddle at all.
It was better to postpone her plans than to get Voldemort sniffing on her trail.
—
If favorite classes could be decided solely on setting, then the only choice Eve would ever consider would be Astronomy.
She and Kate trudged up the steep spiral stairway that led to the top of the Astronomy Tower in their pajamas, having waved tired goodbyes to their friends before leaving them for Astronomy class at midnight. It was a chilly night—they both wrapped their robes tightly over their pajamas as they emerged from the stairway and onto the top of the tower, where the class was already gathered.
Professor Kersey was a lithe, kind-eyed woman who ushered them both quickly to the center of the tower so that they could join the rest of their classmates. Eve let herself sink into a throw pillow propped against a stone column by the side as the professor began class, her lecturing and the slight breeze blowing through the air instantly lulling Eve into a state of contentment. It was the end of a harrowing day, and she finally allowed herself to really relax.
It also didn't hurt that Riddle took N.E.W.T. Astronomy and was thus not a part of her class.
"Now, as I've just demonstrated," announced Kersey as she set down the telescope she'd just been using, "locating rogue planets is quite a difficult process. However, I would still like for you all to try on your own today—consider this a test trial, if you will, to get you familiar with rogue planets as we begin our unit on them." She gestured towards the telescopes propped against the column opposite of Eve's. "Go on, now—take a telescope, and try your best."
Kate picked up two telescopes, and Eve shot her a smile of gratitude when she was handed one of them. She hauled it up and brought it outside of the tower's domed central area, placing it back down so that it extended over the rails of the tower, and she was now overlooking the castle grounds and parapet below.
She'd always thought that there was something magical about the Astronomy Tower, disregarding the general magic of Hogwarts itself. It was there, during her Astronomy classes, that she always seemed to think the most—not academic thinking like how she usually thought in any other class, but reflectively and thoughtfully.
Perhaps it was the architecture and decoration around her that influenced such change—the various astronomical models and telescopes propped against the crenulated ramparts at the very top; the large, eclipsing model at the very center of it, its iron spirals surrounding a rotating model of Earth; and the stone columns and iron railings encircling the area, the pillars reaching upwards into the sky and curving into one another to form the ornate ceiling.
Maybe it was the natural environment—the darkness of the midnight sky, draped like a blanket over the tower. The sky—it was something that was always able to put into perspective just how small Eve really was in the world, a tiny speck in a galaxy of intricate and unfathomable unknowns. The tower itself—the tallest one of the castle, tall enough to offer a perfect view of the starry sky above, the vast castle grounds below, and the horizon at which both met in the distance. The Black Lake, its water glistening as it basked in the luminance of the moon; the rolling hills next to it, their silhouettes stark against the sky; and the immeasurable forest by the edges below; all in view in the silent nights.
Maybe it was the tower's exclusiveness—after all, it was out-of-bounds for students except for classes, and classes were held exclusively only at midnight. Eve had always felt that fifty-minute limit of class whenever she'd be in the tower, a fifty minute reign of pensiveness that she'd hold onto as best as she could before she was eventually whisked away, any mood of contemplation left behind in the tower.
She propped her elbows onto the iron railing in front of her and leaned forward, the slight breeze in the atmosphere carrying through and causing her hair to flow gently in the air. She could see the entire grounds of the castle below her, contrasting to the starry night sky above her—it felt like she could almost reach out and touch the stars sprinkled across it.
Those characteristics aforementioned all came together in an amalgam of tranquility that defined the Astronomy Tower and Eve's experience with it, creating a sort of ambience that cut the tower off from the rest of the castle. It was a sort of ambience that induced a distinctive sentiment; one that felt unexplainable in some way. It was capable of making her feel like she was the only person in the world—she could place her hands onto the iron railing for the millionth time in her life and gaze up at the starry sky, letting her troubles seep out of her mind, and she'd feel infinite.
