Eve felt the events from last night hit her like an avalanche before she even achieved full consciousness.
She sat up quickly from her bed, clutching at her blanket as she leaned against the headboard, vision still blurry and a yawn half-disappeared in her throat as images bombarded the forefront of her mind, playing like a horror montage.
dungeonsRiddletrappedalcovethreatenheknowsheknowsheknowshe'sontomeheknows
It felt like she'd just woken up inside a nightmare. Last night felt like a blur—after the whole interaction with Riddle, she'd somehow fallen asleep to the relentless sound of rain outside, unable to focus on a single one of the innumerable thoughts swirling around in her head. She didn't even know how she'd managed to doze off after all that.
And now it was the next morning, which meant that her first class today was Potions, where she sat just about one foot away from Riddle as his goddamn desk partner. Just the thought of sitting next to him for nearly a whole hour, pretending as if nothing happened after last night, made her want to rush into the bathroom and throw up from anxiety.
She jerked when a female voice hit her ears.
"Eve, are you coming to breakfast?" asked Kate, who was standing by the door with Sophie, ready to go. Both look concerned at the fact that Eve was still in her bed when she usually would've been up and ready with them.
Eve hadn't even noticed her friends standing there. She glanced at the clock on Sophie's nightstand and repressed a groan—she'd woken up late.
And breakfast—
He'd probably be at breakfast too. Even though Eve knew she'd eventually have to face him, which was a thought she really didn't want to dwell on, the idea of going down to the Great Hall right now and sitting across from him and eating breakfast, so soon after last night, just felt wrong. She hadn't even processed it all herself yet.
"I, um, actually feel kind of sick," Eve said, holding a hand up to her forehead for good measure. "Headache. I might skip class too."
Kate and Sophie exchanged worried glances.
"You should go to the Hospital Wing!" exclaimed Sophie, with Kate nodding vigorously by her side. "Come on, we can take you!"
"Oh, nonono," Eve blurted quickly. "That's okay. It's not that bad—just a headache. I'm going to see if I can sleep it off."
Both girls looked unconvinced by the doorway, but they didn't press the matter, waving goodbye to Eve and promising her that they'd catch her up with what she missed in class.
Then they were gone, and she was alone in the dorm with nothing to occupy her but her racing thoughts.
Eve sighed, sliding back down and burying herself under her blanket, images from last night overtaking her mind again. It had all felt like a fever dream—she wished she could look back and realize that she'd just dreamed it all up, and that she'd actually been comfy and asleep in her bed the whole time.
What am I supposed to do? She stared blankly at the top canopy of her bed. Sure, Riddle had no proof of anything, but that didn't really matter if he had suspicions regardless. She didn't even want to think about how he would treat her in public from now on. Act all nice and pretend like last night never happened? Act cold? And then how was she supposed to act in response?
It was too much. Eve muffled a small scream into her pillow. Why, out of all times, did that have to happen now? Why does Riddle have to be so smart and observant?
She laid there, mind replaying the events from last night and cycling through a series of different responses she could've given. If she still had her Time-Turner, she'd genuinely consider rewinding back to last night and slapping herself. Why in the world had she even stepped towards that stupid alcove when Riddle motioned for her to? He'd only said "Come look," a phrase that was vague and ominous enough, and she'd been dumb enough to think that there really was something interesting to look at, and she'd stepped forward!
"Oh, my god," she muttered. "How could I have been so stupid?"
And why hadn't she reached for her wand as soon as she'd heard Riddle's voice? She'd been defenseless, her wand tucked safely in her pocket, and she'd had so long to reach for it between seeing Riddle and getting pushed into that alcove, and maybe she could have defended herself and stopped herself from getting pushed inside if she'd just been more vigilant.
CONSTANT VIGILANCE! came the bark of Alastor Moody's voice in her head, and she quickly pushed it away.
Eve knew she needed to get her mind off of it. She wasn't the type to hide from her problems, but in certain situations—like this—she just needed time to think and calm down, hence her staying in the dorm. She couldn't even imagine how she'd act if she came face-to-face with Riddle so soon at breakfast—probably melt right into the floor, or something.
I'll get out of bed first, she thought, and get ready. No use rotting in bed and thinking up worse-case scenarios. And then I think I'll read. Yeah, okay.
For the next hour or so, after she'd forced herself out of bed and mechanically gotten dressed and ready for the day, Eve busied herself with the spontaneous and mundane task of cleaning up the dorm. She knew house elves came in to do it regularly, but she needed something to occupy her mind and get it off all her swirling worries, and mindless cleaning usually did the trick.
So she made the beds, siphoned all the dust out of the rug on the floor, Scourgifyed every piece of furniture in the room, physically wiped at all the surfaces in the bathroom until they were nearly reflective, and meticulously scrubbed at the bathroom mirror until not one imperfection could be seen. Then, body and mind effectively exhausted, she retrieved The Great Gatsby from where she'd hidden it at the bottom of her trunk, collapsed onto her perfectly-made bed, cracked open the cover, and began to read.
It took her nearly three hours to finish the book from front to back. By the time she closed it, silently thanking F. Scott Fitzgerald for crafting such a masterpiece for the millionth time in her head, the clock by Sophie's nightstand displayed that the time was 11:42am, and the bright, reflective rays of the afternoon sunlight were slowly and steadily infiltrating the room through the window panes.
Eve groaned, reaching up to rub at her strained eyes.
Reading had done the trick—her worries were subdued in her head, now just distant whispers. It had been the right move to stay in the dorm, and although it had been slightly boring (she'd contemplated taking a small detour down to the common room for a change of environment, but she'd stepped through the dorm door, gotten scared of bumping into a stray Riddle in the common room, and stepped back in), the quiet time and lack of other people was just what she'd needed, and she felt much calmer and composed compared to when she'd first woken up.
But now lunch was about to start, and Eve knew she probably shouldn't skip that. She'd considered it, but she knew that that would only look more suspicious, and other people may start to wonder if something was wrong.
Plus, I can't avoid Riddle forever. She didn't doubt that he knew she was probably faking sickness to avoid him, and that irked her.
Maybe she'd been frazzled in the morning, but she was in a relatively calm headspace now. She'd internalized the two simple facts that she knew were true—Riddle had no proof of anything, and he couldn't do anything to her. As long as she stayed careful to make sure she didn't get cornered by him again and the alcove situation didn't get repeated, there was nothing truly dangerous she had to worry about.
Hopefully.
"He has no proof, and he can't do anything," she murmured to herself under her breath as she slung her book bag onto her shoulder and opened the door. She began trudging down the hallway towards the staircase. "He has no proof, and he can't do anything." She descended down the spiral stairs. "He has no proof, and he can't do anything." She crossed across the common room, gripping onto the strap of her book bag as she stepped through the common room door that she'd run through so fast last night. "He has no proof, and he can't do anything."
She repeated the sentence in her head like a mantra, weaving through the students walking and loitering in the dungeons before ascending up the staircase leading to the Entrance Hall, barely feeling the shock of brightness she usually noticed in her vision when she stepped off the stairs.
The Entrance Hall was crowded with students going to lunch, and Eve seamlessly blended into the large crowd entering the Great Hall. She swallowed as the doors into the hall approached rapidly.
Is he already inside? What do I say when I sit down?
Was she really going to eat lunch with Riddle like last night hadn't happened and that everything was normal?
Eve took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders as the crowd around her swept her past the doors and into the buzzing Great Hall.
Yes, she was. And she wasn't going to act like nothing happened—in fact, she was going to step towards the Slytherin table and plop herself down right in front of him to show him that he hadn't rattled her at all with his accusations and threats last night, and that—if anything—he'd only strengthened her resolve to get the ball moving with her plans, whatever he thought those may be.
Eve spotted Kate at the Slytherin table first. She inadvertently let out a sigh of relief when she glimpsed Sophie next to her and Abraxas and Alphard across the table, jostling each other playfully.
Sure, she'd dragged herself down here, repeating confident phrases to herself, but she'd be lying if she said that nervousness wasn't blooming more and more in her chest with every step she took towards the table. The presence of her friends was comforting nonetheless, and she sped up her pace.
And then she saw Riddle sitting across from her empty seat, and she took a sharp intake of breath.
He seemed occupied with talking to Avery, but Eve wasn't fooled. He'd probably seen her from a mile away. She felt like her feet were suddenly sinking into the floor, dragging her five steps backwards with every one forward, and her heartbeat seemed to have suddenly amplified tenfold in intensity, resounding in her eardrums and drowning out the buzz around her like the rapid chimes of a bell announcing her arrival.
THUMP THUMP THUMP. Eve Laurence is here! THUMP THUMP THUMP. She's here! Riddle, look up! She's here! THUMP THUMP THUMP.
"Eve!" Abraxas noticed her approaching the table, waving at her brightly.
"Hey, Abraxas," Eve reciprocated with a pasted smile, pointedly refusing to look a single inch to the left of the blonde yet. Internally proud that her voice didn't quiver, she repeated greetings to Alphard, Kate, and Sophie.
She gave herself a second to take a miniscule intake of breath, and then she turned.
"Riddle," she greeted as coolly as she could muster, her veins thrumming with adrenaline.
Riddle seemed to turn away from Avery in slow motion, and when his eyes locked onto Eve's, it felt as though she physically couldn't break away. Even with the bright sunlight shining into the Great Hall, his irises were midnight black, boring into her own with an intensity she'd never seen before, and within that one second of eye contact, it felt like he'd seen into her mind and dissected every little thought she'd mulled over from last night.
"Laurence," he said, voice perfectly even.
And then he turned back towards Avery, who beamed at Eve before immersing himself back into conversation with Riddle, and Eve's hands were suddenly trembling.
She took a seat, putting all her effort into steadying them. She thought it'd be easier; thought that she could show Riddle that he hadn't rattled her last night, but he had. And he'd just shown that he was perfectly fine with publicly abandoning the polite exterior he'd been projecting towards her, and now he was less than three feet away from her, and she was panicking.
She picked up the spoon in front of her in order to do something with her hands and shoved it into a bowl of mashed potatoes, piling it onto her plate rapidly. As she reached for a plate of orange slices, she saw Kate staring at her with raised eyebrows from the corner of her eyes.
"Did something happen?" Kate asked, suspicion evident in her voice.
The dynamic shift between her and Riddle from their short interaction alone was clearly palpable. After all, Riddle had now shown a part of his true side to her—probably more than he'd ever shown to anyone other than his Death Eaters, Eve could bet—and now didn't seem to feel the need to bother to pretend around her.
She wasn't sure how this would fare to outsiders and for the rest of their interactions from now on.
Eve played dumb. "What do you mean?"
Kate watched her for a few seconds before shrugging. "Hm. Nothing." She changed the subject. "Are you feeling alright? Headache gone?"
Despite the nervousness and unease bubbling in her stomach, and aware of the fact that Riddle was probably eavesdropping from across the table, Eve made sure to smile widely as she said clearly, "Yeah. Never been better."
When breakfast ended, she stuck herself to Kate, Sophie, Abraxas, and Alphard like a barnacle, refusing to even glance in Riddle's direction as they left the Great Hall and made for the Transfiguration classroom. He hadn't talked to her or even remotely looked at her for the rest of breakfast after their little exchange at the start, but she'd felt his presence like a hot iron for the entire time, and she'd only been too happy to leave.
They waved goodbye to Abraxas, who went off to practice Quidditch, and Eve stayed mostly silent as her other three friends chatter about mundane topics and random subjects on the way to class, unable to draw her focus away from dwelling on the implications of this new dynamic her and Riddle were now dancing around.
She'd felt the familiar paranoia she'd become accustomed to back in 1997 encase her like a cloak when she'd left the Great Hall. Riddle hadn't followed them, still in conversation with his Death Eaters, but she could almost sense the waves of dissatisfaction rolling off of him at the fact that she'd turned up to lunch close-lipped and projecting what she hoped was a relatively-unbothered exterior after his little confrontation last night.
She knew he didn't like that. He was used to people responding to him with fear and surrender, and as satisfying as it was for her to break his expectations, it also made her feel like Riddle was going to suddenly jump her and murder her gruesomely at some point throughout the day.
She stumbled slightly, a thought suddenly dawning in her mind, sinking and infiltrating into the very depths of her internal gears.
He was used to people responding to him with fear and surrender. . . .
She blinked.
And she knew what she was going to do next.
—
"Today," announced Dumbledore, pacing in front of the Transfiguration classroom, his questionably-red tartan robes swishing back and forth, "you will be learning how to transfigure a king into a rook."
The class erupted in murmurs.
"A king into a rook?" asked Avery in disbelief. "That's—that's easy."
"A rook bird," Dumbledore clarified, and the whole class groaned. "This is a standard transfiguration in the curriculum that is crucial to know for your N.E.W.T. exam, so I suggest you all pay attention closely."
Next to Eve, Lila was listening to Dumbledore with rapt attention, but Eve immediately tuned him out, relief washing over her at hearing what today's lesson topic was going to be. McGonagall had taught them how to transform a king into a rook back in 1997, and Eve's mastery of the transfiguration was crucial for what she was about to test.
She snuck a sideways glance across the room, where Riddle was seated innocently, seemingly listening to Dumbledore.
Eve had a theory, one that had slowly snuck up on her and hit her earlier in the hallway, and part of her sort of already knew the validity of it, but she needed to really see its effect in action before taking it at face value.
By the front of the classroom, Dumbledore had Conjured a small box. With a wave of his wand, numerous black and white king chess pieces flew out, flying across the classroom to each land smoothly on a different student's desk.
"Now, I want you all to try this transfiguration," he called. "Remember the wand movements, and say the incantation clearly."
Eve didn't wait to be told twice. As the classroom immediately became filled with the buzz of students attempting the spell, she pointed her wand at the little white king in front of her, cleared her mind to drown out the noise around her, and whispered, "Avifors!"
She heard Lila exclaim in surprise as a flurry of feathers overtook Eve's desk, and in the place of her chess piece sat a large, black rook bird, which squawked loudly before flapping its wings and flying upwards, circling around the classroom and exiting through the top of an open window.
"Bravo!" cried Dumbledore from the front of the classroom, clapping his hands. "Prompt, swift execution by Miss Laurence!"
"Eve," said Lila with something akin to awe in her voice, "that didn't even take thirty seconds! How in the world did you do it that fast?"
"Uh—luck?"
"Oh, pshh," said Lila, waving her hands as she grinned. "You said that last time, you Transfiguration pro. Help me, please—how did you do the wand movement so concisely?"
Eve gladly busied herself with helping Lila as she strained her ears, waiting for the inevitable.
Sure enough—
A loud SQUAWK echoed from the other side of the classroom a few seconds, and Eve looked up to see a big, fat rook bird fly off Riddle's desk and immediately glide out the open window Eve's bird had just soared out of moments ago.
Eve averted her eyes just as she heard Dumbledore's voice praise "Wonderful, Mr Riddle!" like he'd done for her earlier, but all she could focus on was the unequivocally-blazing feeling of Riddle's eyes burning into her from across the classroom.
She'd expected it.
The feeling didn't leave, even after she stepped out of the classroom with Lila twenty minutes later, her heart beating, and Eve knew.
She knew, and she pondered it all throughout the time in-between Transfiguration and Defense, and she pondered it on the way to Defense, where she blended into the back of the crowd, squeezing between Abraxas and Alphard again to avoid any unnecessary attention from a certain young Dark Lord, hollowly lost in thought as the rest of the class finished their dueling diagnostic.
And it stuck so much in her head that she needed more time to think, and when class was over, she made up an excuse about feeling sick again, waving goodbye to her friends and heading in the opposite direction of dinner after making sure that nobody was following her.
She carefully climbed up the staircase of the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, wand clutched tightly in her hand and mind diligently aware of her surroundings. When she reached the top, she didn't hesitate to speed up her pacing, racing along the seventh floor of the Astronomy Wing, eyes scouring over the walls for a very familiar tapestry.
Eve's heart seemed to lighten slightly when she spotted the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and she approached the wall across from it without hesitation.
I need a place to think, she thought, concentrating on the sentence as she began to pace in front of the blank expanse of stone. I need a place to think. I need a place to think.
When a small wooden door suddenly materialized in front of her, she quickly gripped the handle, turning it and slipping through the door without another thought.
Inside the Room of Requirement, the Gryffindor Common Room was fleshed out perfectly just as it had been the last time Eve was here fifty-three years ago. She let out a deep, shaky breath before collapsing on the red, velvet sofa in the center of the room, right in front of the crackling fireplace, and she forced her mind to clear.
Eve prided herself in her ability to control her head and her emotions. Usually, in stressful situations, when she felt as though her emotions were becoming too overpowering and taking over her sense of logic, she tended to take a step back from the situation to carry out a series of steps in order to analyze it from a detached, third-person point-of-view: state the facts, observe her options, and pick a solution to pursue.
Oftentimes, after following that method, Eve would realize that she'd been worrying excessively, and that logically, there was a best solution in her reach. That method was always foolproof in calming her down and getting her through enough to see a solution to her stressful situation.
Well, the stressful situations she employed that method for usually entailed nights before a large exam when she felt extra stressed, not future Voldemort threatening her, but she'd just have to improvise in her current predicament.
First, before she reached any conclusions or dwelled on the thought that had been casting a shadow over her brain since she'd stumbled in the hallway, she needed to start from the beginning and lay everything out in cold, hard facts.
Riddle knows I'm hiding something. He cornered me in an alcove, threatened me, and then let on that he's onto me.
Okay, those were the facts. Plain and simple. That was what she was working with, so what could she do about it?
I could spill the beans to Dumbledore. Tell him everything about everything—who Tom Riddle is, what he'll become, what my plans were for him, what the fate of the wizarding world's future will be.
But that could jeopardize everything she'd been working towards. After all, wasn't Operation Riddle conceived because Eve wanted to eradicate any possibility of Voldemort's influence ever surpassing this time and reaching 1997?
As much as Eve respected Dumbledore, looked up to him as both a mentor and figurehead in history, she didn't think Dumbledore was someone who condoned murder.
Yeah, definitely not. Maybe Dumbledore was a champion for good, and any distrust he had for Riddle right now would eventually build up into a serious rivalry when Riddle became Voldemort and attempted wizarding world domination, but Eve was positive that current Dumbledore wouldn't approve of her killing a bloke seen to everyone as Hogwarts's beloved, innocent Head Boy and who—as of now—had no incriminating evidence of any sort stacked up against him.
And if the disappearance of Tom Riddle's existence wasn't guaranteed if she told Dumbledore now, then she sure wasn't going to tell him.
Plus, it was already dangerous enough for her to tempt fate and attempt to alter history with what she was attempting to do by herself—to kill someone in the past. Dumbledore was a second party that was already involved more than what was probably safe, and Eve didn't want to complicate things any further by bringing him—or anyone else—deeper into it.
No, she couldn't tell Dumbledore. This was all on her own shoulders.
I could confess everything to Riddle.
Eve scoffed. Even in her current state, she knew that would only be an option she considered if the world was about to end.
Or, I could keep lying. Keep putting up a facade, acting like nothing's wrong, and making sure Riddle's suspicions are never served any real evidence.
She knew that was her last option. What else could she do? She'd thought through everything, and for the sake of the wizarding world and her, what else could she do other than keep going?
And as the notion swirled around in her head, she ruminated.
Was she really going to let Riddle halt everything she was working towards here?
And Eve was suddenly scoffing at herself. Why was she letting Riddle's mere suspicions scare her? It wasn't even like he'd discovered anything—he was just suspicious! He didn't even have any concrete ideas of what she was working towards, who she was—all he knew was that she was hiding something and maybe wasn't who she claimed she was.
This was future Voldemort, yes, but a seventeen-year-old future Voldemort who had no power and was under the surveillance of a suspicious-Dumbledore in a heavily-guarded castle teeming with magical folk. As long as Eve was careful and found a way to ease his suspicions, he could do nothing to her, and she could carry on.
For god's sake, she'd faced worse and been in worse situations! A seventeen-year-old teenager with nice hair and a detective complex suddenly seemed like a very minor obstacle, and this all suddenly seemed very trivial and silly to her.
Okay, maybe she was oversimplifying it just slightly, but this was where her thoughts were slowly beginning to diverge.
Because clearly Operation Riddle was a flop, and there was absolutely no way she was going to be able to get back to pre-alcove circumstances, when everything with Riddle was fine and dandy—or so she'd thought, at least. She'd never be able to step a foot near him, nevermind get her hands on his Horcruxes, if he continued thinking that she was hiding something, that she wasn't who she truly claimed to be (which was ironic).
Which meant that she needed to diffuse his suspicions.
But did she?
The niggling thought had been sprouting in the back of her mind since she'd stumbled in the hallway before Transfiguration.
Did she have to diffuse Riddle's suspicions? Or . . . could she build on them?
Eve quickly backtracked to the moment she'd met Riddle, all the way back in Dippet's office, her heart beating as a new realization slithered up her brain, tickling at her mind and causing a small ounce of hope to bloom.
When they'd first met, when Riddle had had no knowledge of her, he'd clearly been paying attention to her and Dumbledore's little side conversation in Dippet's office with interest. When she'd chatted with Riddle for the first time outside the office, he'd asked personal questions about her, trying to get to know her and understand who she was to see if she'd be of any use or threat to him.
But when she'd talked to him before Potions that second day, trying to act all friendly and normal, thinking that would grab his interest, it had done the exact opposite and had seemed to siphon any interest he'd had in getting to know her.
And now Eve knew why—because to Tom Riddle, she'd been normal in that instance, and normal was boring and useless to him. Yet her duel with Mulciber got his attention because it hadn't been normal, and he didn't know how she could've defeated Mulciber and how she'd gotten those skills.
Which had led him to create suspicions about her based on the abnormal irregularities he'd observed about her and her projected stories, which had then led him to corner her last night. After all, this was Tom Riddle—future Voldemort. He didn't like not knowing things, and he was going to do everything in his power to get her and her secrets in his grasp.
The fact was that Tom Riddle was flawed in that he wanted to obtain knowledge. And, in the process of doing so, he'd revealed to Eve that when he didn't know something, that was what captured his attention, and he wouldn't let it go until he understood it.
Tom Riddle was smart, but he was egotistical, which would eventually lead to his rise as Voldemort due to the fact that he thought he had the knowledge to beat Death itself. Part of his ego was the fact that he took pride in his extensive knowledge, which stemmed not just from his natural intellect but his abilities to obtain information and project a persona that was both captivating and charismatic. His thirst for knowledge and power would lead to his rise, but it would lead to his downfall as well.
And Eve finally understood. It wasn't really a discovery, but more so an innate postulation that she should've realized a long time ago.
No, she didn't need to diffuse his suspicions—she needed to nurture them. To increase them. By diffusing his suspicions, she'd effectively reduce herself to just another one of his classmates, useless and normal and boring to him.
But by trailing breadcrumbs behind her, she'd lead him on a chase. That was how Tom Riddle functioned, and she was going to use that to her advantage—she needed to lead him on a hunt, to play cat and mouse with him.
Riddle was now unabashedly on to her. A scary thing, yes, but she had his attention now. She was a thorn amongst a sea of roses that Riddle couldn't understand, a puzzle that he couldn't solve, an enigma he couldn't crack, with motives he didn't know, and she knew that was what bothered him.
Yes, she had his attention, and that was what she wanted. Riddle didn't know it, but he'd inadvertently opened up a path for her last night, a path for her to string him in. Because it was finally dawning on her now that the only way to catch Riddle's attention was to hold knowledge that he didn't know and that he wanted.
Eve would scatter secrets behind her like bread crumbs, luring Tom Riddle further and further down her trail, trying to pick up crumbs and clues, until he got lost along the way in his pursuit—and when he did, Eve would infiltrate everything he'd built here and bring him down from right under his nose, and he wouldn't even know until it was too late.