Tom was gently drizzling honey over pancakes when he felt someone unceremoniously plonk themselves next to him. Hiding a smirk, he turned to face Astraya.
"Can I help you?" he said, expression innocent.
Astraya's glare was so intense it could have boiled ice. "That was a low blow of you last night, Riddle."
He set down the honey dipper and pivoted his body to face her properly. "You were out of bed after hours," he reminded her. "As a prefect, I have a duty to maintain the rules."
One eyebrow lifted disbelievingly. "So you decided to set me up?"
"I would have given you detention myself if Dumbledore hadn't come along."
She laughed outright. "You? Give me a detention?" She was genuinely amused, as if he'd told her a great joke. He gnashed his teeth together. Her insolence still managed to get under his skin too easily. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that was actually a joke."
She chuckled again, and did a calculating sweep of the room. With a sideways glance, he saw what she was looking at: their seemingly casual exchange had turned more than a few heads, and many curious pairs of eyes were focused on them. The exuberant banter that accompanied a Saturday breakfast was partly muted, peppered with murmurs and speculating whispers. People watching the exchange whirled their heads around the minute he turned his gaze upon them. His forehead creased but he smoothed it over as he turned to face Astraya again. Keeping up a friendly relationship between them in public was better than having everyone ponder the reason for Tom Riddle's animosity towards the new girl.
The pleasant expression nearly fell from his face as Astraya deliberately leaned in close, too close, as if they were sharing an intimate secret. Her green eyes were alight with mischief. Her hand crept along the table so that her fingers almost touched his. Her breath wafted against his cheek as she spoke.
"Dumbledore knew you were there," she whispered.
It had what was no doubt the desired effect. Tom's pupils dilated with anger even as she continued.
"His eyes went to the spot you'd disappeared before he led me to his office. And he told me I was too smart to let you manipulate me." He could almost feel her smile against his cheek. "I figure he's the only person in this school who actually knows what you're really like."
"And did you tell him I was there?" he asked, the quiet, level tone of his voice hinting at a tight tension underneath. The truth of her words enraged him, along with the fact that he'd clearly underestimated the old man again. He would have never thought anyone could see beyond his Disillusionment Charm, especially in a dark, shadow-filled room, but he had to admit he'd been wrong.
Her smirk widened, and his fingers practically itched to curse her as she leaned in again. The proximity caused an uncomfortable sensation to prickle across his skin. Her mouth was so close to his ear he felt the way her lips shaped the words.
"No," she murmured. "I don't need to resort to tattling to get one over you. I'm not so petty. Or desperate."
Her poorly disguised jab made his eyes darken so much the pupil was indistinguishable from the iris. The expression would have made any student avert their eyes uncomfortably, would have made his followers cower in fear, but it had no effect on Astraya. Tom was irritated to find he'd half-stopped expecting her to be afraid, but annoyed all the same that she wasn't.
He barely managed to clamp over his wrath tightly enough to grit out, "I would have thought you'd like holding something over me, since you seem too afraid to face me in a duel again."
His jibe fell flat. Astrya arched an eyebrow, and Tom was startled – and annoyed – by how similar the arrogance in her expression was to the one he saw when he looked in the mirror.
"I've told you many times before that I'm not afraid of you. And if I refused to duel you before it was because you picked inappropriate times." She smiled in his glowering face and whispered, with the air of one murmuring to a lover, "Next time we duel, it'll be on my own terms."
Tom was so infuriated by her insolent words, by the avid interest of everyone in the Great Hall, who were no doubt drawing their own conclusions, that he was desperate to even the scales somehow. No-one could set him off-balance. No-one.
Pushing his rage down, to that place where his dark thoughts and feelings swirled and writhed like a caged beast, he carefully painted his most charming smile on his face, letting the whiteness of his teeth flash between his lips, sending artificial warmth into his eyes and letting them crinkle at the corners, lowering his eyelashes seductively over them.
He was wickedly pleased to see an uncertain glint in her confident eyes as he leaned closer just like she'd done, and whispered in her ear, "Don't be so sure."
Her gaze snapped to his, and he felt something heady and intoxicating tremble in the air between them, as if uncertain whether to stay or disappear. They were painfully close; he could feel the warmth of her cheeks and the rasp of her breath and make out her individual eyelashes. He half-thought he could hear the pounding of her pulse in her fragile neck too, and he had the strangest urge to put his hand over it, just to feel her blood moving underneath his fingertips.
The absurdity of his thoughts made him stiffen, and he would have pulled away even if the jolly, booming voice hadn't come from behind them causing them both to startle out of the moment.
"Come on, Slytherins, finish your breakfasts. You don't want to be late for you first Hogsmeade trip."
It was Slughorn, walking down the Slytherin table in an ermine-trimmed coat whose furred collar hid nearly half of his face. The other half was hidden by the large fur hat perched on his head.
Tom and Astraya discreetly pulled away from each other. It seemed that Astraya had no desire to be seen in such proximity by a teacher, though she had no qualms about other students seeing them like this. It was too late. Slughorn had seen them, and his eyes had widened with interest. Tom dreaded what was to come out of his foolish mouth.
"Tom, m'boy! And Astraya! How are you doing, m'girl? I assume you're going to Hogsmeade this morning?"
Tom's eye twitched. So Astraya was now 'his girl', was she?
"Yes, sir," Astraya said. She stood up from the bench, not flustered in the least. "I should go find my friends. Cora wanted to leave early so she could show me everything."
"Of course, of course." Tom nearly groaned at the glee in Slughorn's eyes. The last thing he needed was for this ridiculous fool to start playing matchmaker.
His annoyance doubled when he saw the puzzled, somewhat dumbfounded looks his followers were giving him. He hadn't even noticed them entering the hall.
He brushed off his clothes and stood. "Let's go," he snapped. "I want to get to Hogsmeade before it gets too crowded."
Hogsmeade village was a charming cluster of thatched cottages, steeply angled roofs and smoking chimneys. The cobbled streets were sparkling after the rain, and an occasional wind tossed a leaf across them. The howling of the wind wasn't as grim here, just an addition to the cheerful hum of the villagers in the pubs and the streets, the tinkling of the shop bells and the pattering of shoes on cobblestones.
Astraya let her head fall back, and breathed in the rain-scented, crisp morning air. She closed her eyes and let herself listen to the sounds of the lives intersecting and twining with each other in this place. It carried the same secluded atmosphere as Hogwarts, if not a more cosy one.
It was exactly the sort of place she longed to live in.
Cora was like a strict tour guide, steering her through the various shops and sights of Hogsmeade militantly, showing her everything and nothing at once.
Ophelia tagged along behind them. She'd wanted to go to some bookshop, but Cora had insisted that she remain with them for Astraya's first visit to Hogsmeade. And when Astraya suggested she go with Ophelia to the bookshop, Cora had given her a look so scathing her mouth had snapped promptly shut.
The only time Cora let them stop for a breath was when they reached Honeydukes, the most popular shop amongst Hogwarts students. Astraya saw why the minute she caught sight of the towers of shelves holding every kind of sweet imaginable: rows of chocolates in every shape and size, filled with caramel and toffee and jam; fat iced doughnuts laid out on platters; jars of Every Flavour Beans and boiled sweets and creamy toffees; liquorice twisted into spirals and cylinders; fudge and cakes and magical confections Astraya had never tasted nor even heard of.
Cora, who had an incurable sweet tooth, immediately started filling her arms with every type of sweet there was. Even Astraya, who only occasionally had a taste for anything sweet, felt her mouth watering, particularly at the hot baked goods, which were welcome after the bitter cold outside.
She bought one of the most decadent doughnuts she'd ever tasted, slathered with frosting and filled with oozing chocolate. Even Ophelia tried a few toffees.
Cora went around the shop like a frisbee, filling her arms with so many sweets that she had to drop them on the counter, then run back to the shelves and fill her arms with more. Astraya watched her with amusement for a while then leaned in close to Ophelia and whispered conspiratorially, "It looks like Cora's going to be busy for a while. Why don't you show me that bookshop you were talking about?"
Ophelia's eyes brightened. "Yes!"
They both looked at Cora surreptitiously then started to retreat slowly to the door of the shop, slipping outside carefully then breaking into a run once they were out on the street, Ophelia leading the way. They eventually turned the corner onto a quiet, narrow street, and stopped, their breaths rushing in erratic pants. Then they erupted into laughter.
"I feel bad for leaving her like that," Ophelia lamented, but a smile tugged on her mouth.
"Don't worry about her." Astraya put her arm around Ophelia's shoulders and ushered her down the street. "She's been talking about Honeydukes for weeks. I doubt she would let us ruin her long-awaited meeting with her true love."
They both giggled, and Ophelia pointed to a small shop nestled in a corner between two houses. "It's that one. Madden's Bookshop."
A small bell tinkled merrily above them as they stepped into a long room, with shelves running across both walls and down the middle, splitting the shop into two aisles. Astraya welcomed the scent of parchment and leather and wood. It was a warm, cosy place, the kind that encouraged one to sit down by a fire with a book and a cup of tea. It was empty; books weren't the main attraction in Hogsmeade, but it wasn't neglected. The shelves had been dusted and the leather bindings of the books were well taken care of. Astraya looked around for the shopkeeper, but there was no-one but them.
"He goes out for a long time sometimes," Ophelia whispered, even though they were the only people in the room. "He hardly ever gets customers, so he doesn't worry about leaving his shop."
Which showed that the people in this village didn't have very good taste. If Astraya could, she'd spend every day here, cosied up with a book. She ran her fingers along the rows of spines while Ophelia went to the other side. A companionable silence fell as the two looked over the rows of leather-bound volumes, taking down books and flipping through the pages just to hear the rustling of paper and smell the scent of ink on parchment. All the books looked relatively new.
"How long has this shop been here?" Astraya asked.
"Two years," came Ophelia's muffled reply from the other side of the shelves. "It was just newly opened in our third year, on our first visit to Hogsmeade. The owner, Mr. Madden, used to have a bookshop in Diagon Alley, but he moved down here for a quieter life."
As if summoned by their conversation, the shop bell let out a tinkle, and a tall, cloaked figure entered the shop.
Astraya had expected Mr. Madden to be an old, grandfatherly man from the things Ophelia said about him and from the type of business he chose to run. But the man in front of her was perhaps in his late thirties, handsome with shoulder-length black hair and ocean-blue eyes. He smiled when he saw Ophelia.
"Ah, Miss Rowle! How lovely to see you again. I trust you've had a good summer?" His gaze travelled over to Astraya and his smile faltered in surprise. "And who is this? I've not seen her with you before."
"She's a new student, Mr. Madden. Her name's Astraya Sader."
"How do you do, Mr. Madden?" she said, shaking his hand. His eyes lingered on her features, and she found herself examining his face closely too. There was something familiar about him…
"Have I seen you before?" she demanded before she could stop herself. "Perhaps I've been to your shop in Diagon Alley."
Something flickered over his face, but it was gone in a second, and Astraya thought she might've imagined it. Sometimes, she'd become paranoid and see things in people's expressions that weren't there.
"I'm sure I would've remembered if I'd seen you before." He smiled. "Don't worry. A lot of people tell me I look familiar. I guess I just have that kind of face."
Astraya understood what he meant. His easy smile and casually familiar attitude made you feel so comfortable with him it was like you'd known him for years. His voice was rich and pleasantly modulated, the kind of voice that stemmed children's tears and comforted hysterical women. His eyes held a warm, almost fatherly light as he regarded them.
As Ophelia wandered down the shelves, he said to Astraya, "Sader's an interesting name. I never thought the Saders would ever come back to Britain."
Astraya's smile became fixed. "My family's always attended Hogwarts. My father did. I wanted to honour his memory."
"My apologies," he said gently. "I didn't mean to remind you."
She shook her head. "It's fine." Affecting an expression of mild interest, she turned away from him and started down the row of shelves. She heard his footsteps as he walked down the other aisle and exchanged a few friendly words with Ophelia, mostly about the books she'd been reading.
Astraya surveyed the titles. It was an extensive collection for such a small shop, but it was nothing compared to the vast knowledge held in the Hogwarts library. Astraya had spent most of her free time in there, either by herself or with her friends, but she was sure she hadn't uncovered half of the knowledge stored there.
Still, as her eyes moved over the books, they snagged on a thick volume bound in worn, brown leather, with large, embossed letters on the spine: Encyclopaedia of Ancient Runes.
Intrigued, she pried it from the shelf, grunting in surprise at its weight. Balancing it on one arm, she opened it and scanned the list of contents. Although there were quite a few books on Ancient Runes in the Reference Section, they hadn't delved as deeply into it as this book. They were limited to the scope studied in school, with some extra information mentioned in some chapters. Nowhere near as extensive as this.
Tucking the large volume under her arm, she walked to the counter at the back of the shop, where Mr. Madden was taking off his woollen coat and draping it over the back of a chair before sitting down.
He smiled when he saw the book she held. "Excellent choice. I have to say I was hoping no-one would want to buy it. That book is undoubtedly the most precious in my little collection."
She smiled and fished a handful of Galleons from her pocket, placing them on the table. He insisted on wrapping the book for her, and while she waited for him to finish, her eyes roamed over the countertop, pausing on a pile of newspapers that were clearly for his own use rather than for sale.
The front page of the first newspaper had a black-and-white picture of a demolished town, the houses crumbling into rubble.
GRINDELWALD'S REIGN OF TERROR REACHES PARIS
She looked at the date. Nearly two months ago.
Scanning the article, her mind went back to last night, to that necklace she had found. Her fists clenched. She didn't know who'd placed it in her trunk, but the thought that someone knew enough about her to send such a message stoked a deep unease inside her.
The unease doubled when she recalled that she'd left the remains of that necklace in the Forest, for anyone to find.
Anyone being Riddle.
A horrible thought struck her. What if he'd taken it? She'd been so thrown off-balance that she wouldn't have noticed if he had. It was impossible, of course, to tell anything from that mass of molten metal, but what if…?
She took the book from Mr. Madden, not noticing the curious look he gave the sudden change in her expression, and glanced toward Ophelia. The girl was unhurriedly perusing the books, her owlish eyes narrowed in interest behind in spectacles. She didn't look like she was leaving any time soon.
She walked up to her and said, with a fake smile, "Hey, I'm going outside for a walk around the village. I'll meet you back at the castle."
Ophelia frowned. "But you saw all of the village with Cora earlier. And you can't leave me to face her on my own! She'll be so mad."
"I want to see the village again by myself. I like going for walks alone. And don't worry about Cora; she'll just rant for a whole five minutes before stuffing her face with those sweets she got from Honeydukes. And then she'll give me the same rant when we're back at the castle."
Giving the bewildered girl another smile, she left the shop and started a brisk pace towards the castle and the Forbidden Forest.
The Forbidden Forest looked slightly less threatening in the daylight. At night, it had been dark and dense, a haunted place packed with towering trees and treacherous undergrowth, and a disturbing melody of hisses, snarls and hoots slicing through the night. But the weak slivers of daylight reaching through the thick canopy softened it slightly, enough that the trees no longer looked like hulking giants and their roots and branches were no longer monstrous claws out to snag her or trip her.
Astraya found the spot where she'd burned the necklace easily, noting the charred tips of some roots and shrubbery, and patches of soil that had become darker than the rest. She looked in the cradle of roots where she had melted the necklace.
Her stomach twisted. It wasn't there.
Battling the cold sweat breaking out on her forehead, she turned on her numb legs and walked towards the castle, trying to steady her breathing, which had become erratic and irregular, in time with her heartbeat.
The castle was empty save for first and second years, and some studious older students who'd decided to forego the trip in favour of their studies. But when the hidden stone door slid open, she found the Slytherin common room mercifully empty.
The girls' dormitories were located behind a door on the right side of the ornate marble mantlepiece, but she headed for the door on the left, which led to the boys' dormitories.
Her hand hesitated on the doorknob. She'd read that the girls' dormitories were enchanted to eject any boys that attempted to enter them. What if it was the same for the boys'?
Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and slowly set a foot in the corridor then another, letting the door shut behind her. She listened for any movements or hints of another person, but the corridor was silent and still.
Her eyes ran over the doors lining the walls until she found the third one on the right. She examined the corridor curiously as she approached it. It didn't look any different from theirs.
She turned the doorknob carefully and stepped in. She might as well have stepped into her own dormitory. It was furnished exactly like theirs, with large four-poster beds fitted with green silk hangings and luxurious, silk-lined covers, each with a trunk at the foot, a large green carpet in the centre of the room and high, circular windows that looked out under the surface of the lake. The only visible difference was the decided lack of the feminine touches in their dorm, like the elegant filigree clasps on the trunks, a pot of chrysanthemums Cora had placed on her bedside table, a forgotten ribbon on the floor beside Ava's bed, and the embroidered shawl Ophelia liked to huddle under when she read at night, carefully folded on her pillow.
Nearly all of the trunks had a coat-of-arms embossed on the front, except one. It was also the shabbiest, having numerous scratches and a small dent on the side.
Astraya instantly headed for it. The reminder of Riddle's humble origins had her feeling reluctant admiration for the way he'd managed to rise so high in the school and earn the respect of even the most arrogant of pure-blood students.
Kneeling beside his trunk, she reached inside her pocket, hesitated, and grasped the cool handle of the wand she'd been previously hiding in her own trunk. She hated how right it felt in her hand once again.
Giving it a flick, she undid the clasps shutting the lid, and lifted it off slowly, revealing neatly folded clothes.
She used her wand to shift around his things. He had surprisingly little of them, just a few changes of Hogwarts robes, and a shabby grey shirt and pair of trousers. She frowned, scrunching her nose in disgust. Did he actually wear that?
She lifted a folded black robe, revealing a thick book tucked under it. Eyebrows drawn together with interest, she examined the tattered binding and the suspicious stain on the front cover, which marked it as a Restriction Section book. It looked oddly familiar, though she was sure she hadn't encountered it on her recent venture into those forbidden shelves.
With a jolt, she realised that this was the book Riddle had been reading the night she had arrived at Hogwarts and caught him by surprise in the common room.
She glanced furtively towards the door. The trip was probably coming to an end. Students might have started to return to the castle, but it was still quiet outside and she might not get a chance like this again.
She reached for the book, then paused, remembering the defensive spells she'd surrounded her own stolen book with. Riddle had no doubt enchanted this with as many, if not more, spells.
Raising her wand, she muttered, "Deprehendre."
A hazy, phosphorescent glow appeared around the book, different colours swirling in the dome, representing the different spells which had been placed on the book.
It confirmed her suspicions, though beyond that, it was useless. She had a chart in her trunk that outlined what each colour meant, whether it was a Charm, a Curse, or any of the other kinds of spells. There were even individual colours for some of the more powerful, Darker spells. Without it, however, she wouldn't be able to counter any of the spells or to even try to guess what they were. There was no time.
Dismissing the glowing dome with a flick of her wand, she continued her brusque search, delving into Riddle's belongings until her hand found the bottom of the trunk.
Her shoulders slumped in disappointment, then clenched with a newfound tension. If Riddle hadn't taken it, then who had? Had the same person who had planted it in her trunk taken it that night? Or maybe… Maybe Riddle did take it, but he'd already returned to the castle and removed it?
She was so absorbed in her thoughts, she almost missed the quiet footsteps growing closer to the door until they'd almost reached it. Jerking to alertness, she quickly latched the trunk, hastily returning everything to its place, or at least where she thought it had been, and sprang up, looking frantically for a place to hide. Thought it wasn't the most imaginative place, she crawled under the bed, hoping the frills draping on either side from the silk sheets would hide her from whoever came in.
The door opened, then came the sound of boots clicking across the floor to where she was hiding. Every muscle in her body became taught, and her fingers instinctively reached for her wand, which she had tucked back into her pocket. But the footsteps continued past her, going for one of the other beds. She relaxed marginally.
The footsteps stopped, presumably at their destination. The boy stayed there for a few minutes, while Astraya waited, her body locked tight, fighting the urge to peek out and see who it was.
The clicking of boots came again, heading for the door this time. There was the sound of it opening then closing, then the sound of the footsteps retreating down the corridor.
After waiting a long minute, listening to the silence that followed. Then, letting out a long breath, she crawled out from under the bed.
After the strain of possibly being discovered, she felt herself slump in defeat at her failed escapade. Deciding to get out of here before anyone else came, she strode to the door and flung it open.
Her eyes met a dark, triumphant pair, and she barely had time to process what she was seeing before she heard the words, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Her arms snapped to her side, and her legs closed together sharply, like a soldier saluting. Then she felt herself fall backward, her face blank, her body stiff as a board, and land on the floor with a thud.
Riddle stepped into the room, and shut the door, casually nudging her out of the way. Then he knelt by her side, his malicious eyes meeting her helplessly angry ones. He held up a long chain, grinning as her eyes widened.
"Were you looking for this?"