Author's note: Helloo lovely people, I would usually post a new chapter a bit later but I was so excited about this one (and the next!) that I couldn't wait! The eighth chapter will come a bit ahead of time as well because I'll be visiting my sister next weekend and won't have the time to post! I feel like this story is finally moving forward... I wish you all a great weekend and I hope you'll like it! - Enjoy -
October 1941: Mr. Riddle
"Miss Selwyn, before you run away, I would like to have a word with you"
Annabel stopped shoving her belongings in her bag and shot the potion master an inquisitive glance. He himself had spoken without looking at her, his eyes fixed on the back of the room. He was waving his wand behind his desk, watching the sticky vials and other flasks filled with dubious liquids rearranging themselves on the greasy shelves. She glanced briefly at her friends who were already exiting the room and finished packing her bag before she walked towards the dais.
"Yes Professor?" she asked politely, cocking her head to the side quizzically.
"You excelled in potion again today. I did not expect anyone in this class to master the Skele-Gro so swiftly. Are you considering a future career as a Mediwizard?"
The girl glanced at the door of the dungeon, betraying her wish to leave. She hadn't expected that she would be discussing her future career choice on a Wednesday right before lunch and her stomach was grumbling. Besides, she had no desire whatsoever to talk about such strenuous topic with anyone, particularly not Slughorn who always ended up jabbering about his various – and far too many – acquaintances. She smiled politely, saying she hadn't given it much thought.
Slughorn raised a plump finger in the air as if to shush her and began to rummage in the drawer of his desk before lifting a pile of parchments.
"I encountered Professor Wingly this morning, who asked me to hand her over the guidance sheets for the students of her house..."
Annabel recognised the questionnaire they had been asked to fill on the first day of the year. Since the OWLs would be taking place the next year, the professors were willing to engage more directly with the students in order to help them chose wisely which discipline they should focus on, and which optional course would be interesting for their future career. Slughorn flipped through the first few notes before impatiently grabbing his wand, waving it. The parchment she assumed was hers landed in Slughorn's hands and he read out loud.
"Optional classes: none taken. Future career choice: so far undecided. Where do I see myself in ten years:…"
He read the "dot dot dot" out loud and gave her dissatisfied look while moving his corpulent body. He sat on the desk, eyeing the girl from above. She seemed small at the bottom of the dais and his face softened, as if he felt sorry for her.
"You are a brilliant student, Miss Selwyn. Every professor here thinks so. But talent is not enough… Without the will to strive forward, you will soon be overshadowed by more ambitious students, regardless of how prodigious you are"
She pressed her lips together, for she did not know how to react to such moralistic tone. She knew teachers liked their pupils hard-working and diligent. In fact, Annabel was both, but she had no interest in fantasising about a future she knew she did not have the luxury to choose. Yet, she nodded obediently, whispering that a career as a Mediwizard was indeed alluring. He shot her an appreciative glance and in place of the dots, the word "Mediwizard" appeared. She repressed a sigh when she saw him packing his bag and walking down the dais, for she understood he meant to walk her to the Great Hall.
She followed at a drawling pace, dreaming of ditching him in the middle of the hallway because he stopped every few steps to exchange a few words with all the students that crossed their path. His incessant chit chat was making her feel ill-at-ease, and the others too, as she surmised from their cringing smiles.
When they finally reached the end of the corridor, the man beamed at the sight of his all-time favourite student. His back very straight, a few books pressed against his chest, Tom Riddle was waiting patiently until the staircase would finally decide to stop and serve the lower floor.
"Ah! Ah! Look who's here! Mr. Riddle" chirped Slughorn under the thick moustache that he had grown during the summer. Such hair display had been the running gag for most students at the beginning of the year but since early October, the joke had started to fade.
The dark-haired boy turned around elegantly and gave the potion master a courteous nod.
"Professor" he coaxed before he glanced at the girl.
"Miss Selwyn" he addressed her with a smile.
A smile.
A cordial expression, an almost kind greeting. She repressed a frown and nodded back. The potion master swung back and forth on his feet and began to talk Quidditch, as if they were really close friends. Annabel glanced at Riddle who was religiously listening to Slughorn's spiel.
She had seen him multiple times since the incident in the Hogwarts' Express. Most of their encounters occurred inside the Great Hall or at the library, and she often caught him staring at her, unbothered by the many disapproving glances she returned him. It had started to become a habit, a despicable one, for almost each time that she entered a room where he was, he stared. She assumed he was resentful of her attacking Nott, for all Tom Riddle had deigned giving her for years were nothing but directives or sneering words…
"How about you, Miss Selwyn?" asked Slughorn, interrupting the girl's train of thoughts.
She looked up and noticed that both of them were watching her.
"My apologies Professor, I was…"
"Dreaming?" bantered Slughorn at the sight of the girl's confused frown. "I am throwing a little gathering next Friday for Halloween. It would be a pleasure to count you among the guests Miss Selwyn"
"I am sorry sir but I am detained on Fridays"
"Ah yes, the altercation with Mr Nott!"
He nodded pensively, two fingers caressing his moustache.
"What a shame… I suppose I'll have no other choice than to ask Mrs Runereader to postpone your detention" he winked.
"It takes place every week Professor"
"Well, I'll suggest her to move your detention to Saturday then!"
Anna nodded begrudgingly and the stairs finally stopped before them. Slughorn lively climbed the flight of stairs.
"The way to my apartments can be tricky so I'll send someone to pick you up in front of your common room at six" he beamed.
Annabel followed, unaware of the glance Tom Riddle shot her before they reached the Great Hall.
—
Halloween was here and the atmosphere within the castle was all frenzied. Carved pumpkins floated in the air, casting gruesome shadows against the ceiling and spiders hid in each corner, weaving their webs swiftly as if they knew they'd be shooed soon enough, once the festivities would end. Halloween was also the time for the school's poltergeist to thrive, and he took a perverse pleasure in scaring the unfortunate students.
The victim that evening happened to be a Fourth year with chestnut brown hair and piercing grey eyes, who kept cursing and yelling at the scoundrel to give her back what was hers. Sadly for her, the poltergeist appeared to enjoy his facetiae far too much to stop anytime soon.
The boy who entered the corridor slowed his quick pace and walked surreptitiously inside the corridor that led to the Ravenclaw tower. He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall lazily, a smirk playing on his lips at the sight of the girl who fulminated against the ghost.
He watched her for a while getting pushed around, amused, until he considered the prank had lasted long enough, and that they'd need to get going.
"Stop it, Peeves, or I'll call the Bloody Baron" he commanded with authority, walking decisively towards the staircase that led to the common room of the blue and silvers.
The poltergeist jumped and left without further ado at the sight of the dark-haired boy, after throwing Anna's wand in the middle of the hallway. Tom walked towards it but the girl was faster and grabbed it before he could.
"Thank you" she mumbled as she shoved her wand inside her cape, glancing at him suspiciously.
Tom couldn't help but chuckle for himself at the girl's sulking face once she acknowledged they wore matching costumes. It had been an accident, truly, but Tom found this coincidence rather opportune. She, on the other hand, seemed to be in a sullen mood as she followed him swiftly down the corridor.
For the past few weeks, some of his friends had conducted some research on the girl, on Dolohov's suggestion. Valuable information had been divulged, and so far confirmed his friend's clairvoyance. The girl had it all: money, wit and fame. And as the cherry on the cake: a penchant for dark magic and a horribly racist grandfather. A true "race horse".
Antonin's own words.
Yet, Tom knew the real challenge was ahead, and he must advance cautiously…
His thoughts dwelled on her Muggle-born friend's handkerchief, which he believed would lift Annabel's spirit. He did not want to have her all gloomy as he planned on making his first move that evening… He searched inside the back pocket of his trousers and took out the neatly folded cloth. He extended his arm in front of the girl who walked beside him, his hand unfolding the fabric and presenting it to her eyes. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her gasped.
"I found this in the Hogwarts Express after you left. I assumed it belongs to you"
Stunned, she stopped and stared at the handkerchief. He watched her hand move towards his and her delicate fingers caressed the cloth, tickling his palm through the fabric. He watched her stare at the purple heather motive, a wrinkle forming between her two eyebrows. As if she suddenly realised that her gesture was inappropriate, Annabel jerked her hand off and grabbed the cloth.
"It belongs to my friend Sophia. She will be overjoyed to have it back"
"Sophia… Kristiansen? She is new to Hogwarts, isn't she?" he asked as they proceeded to walk again, this time at a much more tranquil speed.
He tilted his head in a polite inquiring, moving a bit closer to her in order to let a group of First years pass next to them.
"She arrived last year… Her father asked for her to be relocated to Hogwarts because of that… crazy Muggle"
"Hitler" he prompted sombrely and she nodded.
Unexpectedly, she seemed willing to say more but they had already reached the sixth floor. Tom stopped in front of a large wooden door through which they could hear the syncopated sound of jazz and waited, silently encouraging her to pursue. He had noticed that strange knack that made people feel the need to fill silence. If one waited long enough, most folks would finally reveal much more about themselves than they'd have wished to.
"Poor thing witnessed her own mother being tortured to death. The cloth was hers, and the last souvenir she had from her mom, after she and her father ran away… She used to cling to that handkerchief while crying herself to sleep. She was terribly afflicted to have lost it"
Tom lowered his gaze and cleverly composed a woeful face.
"I am horrified to hear such dire things about your friend. If only I had known…"
He paused, silently counting up to three while he shook his head ever so slightly. He gave the girl a saddened smile, as if embarrassed by his own dullness.
"I should have let you stupefy Nott on the spot"
Annabel looked up. She met his gaze and held it, as if she wished to assess the sincerity of his plea. He frowned, to appear more solemn, feeling the skin of of his forehead being pulled down.
"Thank you" she said after a while and her grey eyes filled with gratitude.
He offered her his arm, that she demurely refused.
"People will think we are together"
"People will think we are together anyway because we have matching costumes"
He saw her repress a smile.
"You're probably right. Very well then. Let's get this over with, Mr. Riddle" she conceded in a perfect impersonation of Slughorn as she put her arm through his and Tom finally pushed the door opened, the music engulfing them both.