Author's note: Hello hellooo, here is a new chapter! A thousand thank you for the support, it truly means a lot! I wish you a lovely weekend : ) - Enjoy -
February 1942 - Sweet Valentine
Tom glanced at himself in the mirror of the bathroom adjacent to his dorm and he splashed some ice-cold water on his face. His eyes were red from the lack of sleep and a gnawing nervousness made his fingers quiver ever so slightly as he covered his jaw of a thin layer of foam. He reached for the razor blade on the sink and proceeded to shave the beard that now grew on his cheeks for a few months already.
He felt great nervousness regarding the day ahead, part of it he knew was incumbent to the poor choice he had made about the date. More than once, he had considered deferring their meeting, but he had worked so hard in the past weeks to take a head start on his many assignments that postponing had seemed like a waste of his precious time… So Tom had woken up this morning, trying to convince himself that the lump he felt in his throat was only due to the excitement of learning more about what that girl knew.
They had agreed to meet a few weeks after their little gathering at the Three Broomsticks and he had suggested the middle of February. Annabel had paused at first, after he had mentionned the date but she had finally nodded, without making any comment. He had not understood at first, why his friends had stared at him with wide eyes when he told them he would be meeting the girl on that very Sunday. It was only after various girls ambushed him in random places, asking him if he would like to take them out on Sunday that he finally understood what this fuss was all about.
February 14 was Valentine's Day.
Tom exited the dungeons briskly, as if his fast pace could tame his anguish, and he begged Merlin that the girl would not get any ideas about his intentions. Yet, when he reached the Front Hall, he felt worse. Everywhere was pink and red and shy enamoured boys were holding hands with all dolled up girls. He passed a nervous Hufflepuff who was holding a bouquet of roses and he remembered he had gotten her flowers too, on Dolohov's idea. Of course, he had initially refused, hammering it home that this was not a date, but when Alastair said it was proper behaviour for a gentleman to offer flowers to a woman, regardless of the circumstances, he had agreed reluctantly.
He spotted her easily within the crowd, standing near the marble staircase, her back turned to him. He heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed she was wearing her school uniform and had made no extra effort, which he interpreted as good omen: surely, she did not think he intended to court her.
"You're early" he said to the girl before he realised he was being curt. He remembered the flowers and he handed her the bouquet of agrimonies he had purposefully chosen for their meaning.
Annabel's face lightened up and she beamed at the sight of the stems where yellow blossoms were proudly flaunting. Tom felt his muscles relaxed, noting he hadn't vexed her. He needed her to open up that day, to be all compliant and obliging. The flowers proved to having set the right mood and the boy made a mental note to thank his friends for their advice.
The two moved towards the door to stand in line, behind the many students that had planned to meet outside the school for that special day. The procession was slow, and it was already five long minutes that they hadn't taken another step.
"Is being outside really necessary?" he asked quietly.
She nodded.
"I would not recommend to try this inside the castle" she whispered back and he came closer to hear her speak. He glanced at her face from the corner of his eyes and noticed that she had brought a hand to her mouth and was chewing on her thumb's nail.
"Are you nervous?" he asked and she immediately stopped and dropped her hand.
"Bad habit" she simply replied but he noticed her hand was still fidgeting. "I am a bit of an enochlophobic" she added but he made no comment about it, although he never understood people who suffered from such irrational fears. Tom understood the fear of death, of sickness, of rejection even, but being afraid of crowds was something he could not wrap his head around…
Finally, they made it to the outside and they feigned to stroll in the park behind the castle. They had agreed on practicing inside the Forbidden Forest, for Annabel had said the choice of location was key, especially to non-advanced users. She believed a highly magical place would help them to gather the strength that was required to cast dark charms, and the heavy atmosphere of the forbidden forest, and the mysteries it hid, was particularly suited for black magic.
They casually walked on the edge of the woods, feigning a lazy, indifferent pace all the while shooting guarded glances around them before they slowly pierced through the thick and dense cluster of trees
"Have you been asked on a date a lot?" questioned Annabel upfront, and once again Tom feared he had mislead her.
"What makes you think such a thing?" he asked cautiously but she only shrugged.
"I noticed some girls were giving me some mean looks after you arrived"
He did not know what to reply to this, so he simply remained silent, only looking above his shoulder to make sure no one was following them. He had, indeed, been asked out a lot. He knew he was regarded as being well-behaved and good-looking, and his recent growth in height probably contributed to his success. Yet, he hadn't expected to be so popular. Come to think of it, it made him slightly uncomfortable.
"How about you?" he finally asked himself after a few minutes, although he already knew the answer. He had heard the others talk about the girl late at night, inside his dorm or the Slytherin's common room. Annabel intrigued and tempted, and Tom had seen how boys looked at her, sometimes in ways that barely concealed the baseness of their instincts.
As they walked deeper into the forest, the light decreased and the temperature dropped and soon enough, small puffs of smoke were coming out of their mouths. They reached a small clearing, not larger than a hundred square feet and the girl dropped the bag she was wearing. She carefully placed the bouquet on the floor, with a delicacy that surprised him.
"So, what do you wish to know?" she asked as she turned to look at him.
"Where did you learn those things about the dark arts?"
"I already told you. I just know it"
She held his gaze but he knew she was lying. He wished she would reveal where from she owed such wisdom, for Tom did not like to feel dependent from what she would agree on telling - or not telling - him but he could already tell that she would jealously protect her secrets.
"All right then. I want to know what you know"
"It's going take a bit more than a day"
"I'm a fast learner"
"Yes, you are" she agreed and it pleased and upset him all at once to hear her say this with such confidence.
"If I share my knowledge with you, what's in for me?" she asked and he was taken aback by her question. She had been so pliable the past few times he had asked her to smuggle books for him that he hadn't expected her to bargain. He had almost forgotten that the Annabel who gently smiled whenever he entered the library, good-natured and well-mannered, was the exact same girl than the one who had almost killed his friend a few months earlier.
He straightened his back and lifted his chin, looking her up and down. She had crossed her arms in front of her chest, well-rooted on her two feet in a position he knew was meant to confer her authority. He found her regained confidence rather amusing and a smirk stretched his lips.
"Name your price" he simply said with an inviting gesture.
She bit her lip, losing her new aplomb for a second but she pulled herself together and asked, her tone uncompromising:
"I'll teach you what I know and you'll owe me one"
He was bemused, but his confusion quickly gave way to a genuine laugh. He did not know what he found was sillier, that she had the audacity to demand such a thing, or that she believed he would be true to his word.
He regained his seriousness and stared her down. She looked away at last, her cheeks a bright crimson and a contemptuous smile showed on his face.
"All right Miss Selwyn, since you think of yourself as so indispensable… I'll owe you one, but only if your skills prove to be as valuable as you pretend them to be" he finally said. She glanced at him again and her facial features softened.
She kneeled on the moss and interlacing of roots and busied herself, taking out of her bag what seemed like Muggles' marbles of different size and shape. The largest, which looked like the milky way, was about the size of Tom's fist and the smallest, a blazing red, was as tiny as a peanut.
"What are these?" he asked as he bowed to grab one, and he inspected what he thought were golden flakes caught inside some glass material.
"Practicing stones" she replied distractedly as she neatly alined the objects before her and rummaged through her bag until she took out a container. She stood up and poured the content of the mason jar all around the alined stones on the floor.
"Salt. From the Dead Sea" she replied before he got the chance to ask. "It keeps the spells localised. "This is an important step… If you overlook it, terrible things can happen" she added as she bowed and meticulously added some more salt in one corner of the perfect greyish white rectangle she had just drawn on the floor.
"Isn't it the main purpose of dark magic, to make terrible things happen?"
She stared at him, her brows slightly furrowed as if she was reflecting on his words.
"Well, it depends on how you regard the dark arts. Some do not even label them as such. In fact, in most cultures, there is not such distinction between black and white magic. It's simply witchcraft" she shrugged and she dropped the empty container on the floor next to her bag. She took a few steps back and looked at him.
"A few rules: creation demands sacrifice. You took Alchemy as an elective course so you must know that the human nature fears disequilibrium above anything else. Any time you want to create something, you need to-"
"Give something in return" he interjected.
She nodded, visibly displeased that he had interrupted her but she pursued.
"It might be anything really, even a twig if it is the only thing you have to hand but often, the gift needs to equal the take. This is no joke, I know enough people who lost limbs because they forgot such basic rules"
He did not respond, his lips pressed into a thin line for he found her tone patronising, but he remained quiet. He did not intend to let the girl teach him for weeks, a few courses would do, he simply needed to understand the mechanism and he could resume to use her only as his private little book smuggler.
"Another rule: most people do not know how to deal with dark magic here any longer. The dark charms have long been forgotten here and so did the way to revert them. If you ever cause unintended damage, I would suggest you simply leave as fast as you can. Oh and what we're doing is entirely forbidden. If you tell anyone the reason of why we meet, I'll slit your throat"
Tom had to concentrate not to roll his eyes, for he would have liked to see that happen.
"Let's start with something simple" she declared. "We could try the blasting curse Lestrange talked about last time"
She moved one step further away from the stones and pointed her wand towards the biggest one.
"You're not using your left hand" interjected Tom and she looked at him over her shoulder.
"It's only for beginners" she responded in a voice he found a little too self-assured. She moved her arm back to her chest before she extended it fast again.
"Confringo" she declared with authority and Tom watched the stone blast in a multitude of shards.
She looked at him proudly, but he was more fascinated by the broken pieces that had stopped half-way through the air and were now moving backwards to reconstitute the stone.
Her meagre performance was exciting for a fourteen years-old girl, sort of. Yet, it wasn't what he was promised.
"I did not come here to crush a few rocks. Show me something truly impressive" he issued, his voice low as he crossed his arms against his chest. She gave him a pointed look and he knew she was offended.
"You did not even try" she replied in a cutting tone.
With a jaded face, he pointed his wand to the tiniest stone and casted the spell himself. Within a split-second, the stone exploded and he shot the girl a bored glance.
"What's next?"
She bit her lower lip, as if he had rattled her teaching schedule. She stood in front of the stones again and waved her wand in an half-circle.
"Liquefacio" she casted, her voice less self-assured as it previously was but the charm worked nonetheless, and the stone melted and formed a small glowing puddle on the grass. The stone did not have time to regain its shape than Tom was already casting the same spell on the one next to it and succeeded.
He sat down on the log behind him, shooting the girl an irate glance. He knew he was being rude, but he felt like he had been tricked. His friends must have made a mistake with that girl. At best, she had luck that time she casted the chocking spell in the Hogwarts Express.
"Is that all you can do?" he provoked her, for his patience began to run thin.
She shot him an accusatory look as she placed her wand in the inner pocket of her cloak and turned her back to him. For a moment, he thought she was holding her tears for he saw her chest heaving underneath her clothes. Her arms were parallel to her slender figure and when her head fell forward, he truly thought she was crying. He frowned and was about to stand up and tell her they should just go back to the castle when he heard breathe. It sounded like she was drowning for her respiration was hoarse and unpleasant. He then heard her pronounce guttural and unintelligible words, full of consonants, which sounded very different than latin.
He first heard a small snap, like the sound dry branches make when someone step on it. Then came the warmth, soft and pleasant at first, a scorching heat the next. His skin prickled and his nostrils flared as the smell of burned wood permeated the air. A few seconds later, the forest was on fire.
He remained initially calm, for he supposed it was one of her tricks but when he saw her fall to the ground, in the characteristic sound that bodies made when collapsing, he panicked. He stood up before his common sense urged him to crouch and he struggled to keep his eyes opened. He reached for the collar of his jumper that he pulled over his nose, for the air was now filled with clouds of smoke. He looked around him but he could see nothing else than an imbroglio of red and orange. He remembered where was the castle, straight behind him and he thought of fleeing to save his life. Yet, as he was about to step across the log he had been sitting on, something forbade him to leave.
"Anna" he screamed as he found himself unable to leave her there, as if her dying alone would cause damages beyond repair. To what, he did not know precisely but he threw himself on the ground and crawled towards the girl, groping around on the grass in search for her body. He found her hand, that he gripped and he dragged her as he tried to stand again.
"Tom..." someone whispered and he tried to hasten his pace, for he thought what he heard was the girl's plaintive voice. He wanted to reply that they'd be out of the woods in no time but he knew he needed to spare his energy to keep going.
"Tom!"
The boy opened his eyes, which were wide and crazed. He jolted, as if he had woken up from a bad dream. The girl was standing next to him, kneeling on the grass and he realised that all around him was green and cold. He blinked a few times, suddenly aware of his damp forehead and of his shirt that were unpleasantly sticking to the skin of his back.
He opened his mouth, but it took him a few seconds before the words could come out and when he spoke, his voice was husky.
"What was that?"
"You asked what I can do" she replied in a whisper.