"Mr Riddle!"

Ever skeptical Professor Wolburry calls out my name as we enter his classroom for our first lesson of the day.
I'm surrounded by whispering and staring classmates at once, but Elliott just casually takes the seat next to me, not minding any of the sensation more than myself.

I couldn't care less about the others and the professor. I much rather wonder where she is …
We share History of Magic classes, but Harper's nowhere to be seen.

"You've become quite a rare guest! Mr Riddle? Can you hear me?"

"Of course I can, Professor." I'm weary to reply. "But sir, with all due respect – by my count, since 1938 I've only missed a handful of classes, so my attendance should hardly seem too infrequent to you."

"Don't you talk back!" he huffs while amused chuckles begin to arise in the class. He regards me intently while everyone around us seems to enjoy the show. "Where have you been, Mr Riddle?"

They all stare at me now, but I'm spared evading that question for a moment longer – in the most unpleasant way imaginable.

The heavy door of the classroom is pulled open with a muffled clang of old iron and a frantic excuse for tardiness – and there she is.

A bit out of breath, with an outrageously loose tie, her hair carelessly pinned up and illuminated by sun from ancient castle windows – as though she was a heavenly apparition.

Suddenly, no one is looking at me anymore. No, the pairs of eyes move from her to me, back and forth, while one could hear a pin drop …

And yet, my world stands still, just for a moment there.
Her gaze, in the light of my sudden return, gives testament to genuine relief. And at the same time also to the coldest, most vicious rage I've ever seen in her.

If we were alone, she'd probably try to curse me back to hell – and from the whispers that are beginning to emerge, everyone in the room suspects as much, too.

Her Cruciatus would certainly be a blast today.

"Ms Sullivan, you've been late much too often recently," Wolburry grumbles, likely snapping us both out of our running thoughts of well-deserved revenge and most inappropriate reconciliation. "Ten points from Ravenclaw – sit down already …"

She takes her eyes off me abruptly and nods to the professor as she heads towards Leonora and Rouvenia. She sits down next to them and is surely at once informed about today's breakfast conversation at the Slytherin table …

"So, Mr Riddle?"

Startled I look back to the professor. I'd love to continue watching Harper …

"Answer."

"Sir?"

"Where have you been for the past few weeks?"

"Professor, surely you'll understand that I can't explain that to you here and now –"

"Oh no, you will!" he insists.

"Sir, be so kind as to ask Headmaster Dippet. He'll be happy to inform you that everything has already been sufficiently explained."

His face reddens with every word, and with his suppressed anger he finally growls, "Your arrogance will get you into big trouble one day, Mr Riddle."

As if that wasn't already the case … Nevertheless, it's empty rhetoric. I just nod like a saint until he turns around, muttering curses under his breath, and conjuring up the topics of today's lesson on the large blackboard.

"Riddle," Black behind me whispers, "where the hell have you been?"

"None of your business either, Orion." I don't even look at him. But I hear him snort and place his quill on the table in annoyance.

Once again, I couldn't care less.
I don't care about anything.

Yet my gaze frequently wanders to Harper, as much as I hate it. It's like an imperative in my core, all while she's not once looking at me. All we do is make Rouvenia grin.

Can I even stay away from her? I'd imagined it to be easy, as though done was done – quite stupid in immediate retrospect …

The professor keeps talking about historical details I've know for years, and when the lesson is finally over and everyone's rushing out, he's quick to make sure I don't leave the room. "You, Riddle – come to me!" I groan inwardly until he adds, "Ms Sullivan? You, too! Over here!"

She stares at Wolburry in utmost irritation, then she briefly glances at me.

"Should we wait for you?" Leonora asks, but Harper just shakes her head visibly annoyed.

"Professor?" She hesitantly approaches his desk, just like me.

I come to a halt next to her and the warmth radiating from her body almost makes me lose my mind. I want her closer to me, I want to hold her, I want –

"What was it you said why Mr Riddle couldn't attend class again, Ms Sullivan?"

"Sir," she regards him stoically, "I simply said that he had his reasons."

That was actually … perfect. Answered as precisely as possible, yet as opaque as necessary.
Each time. Not only with her parents, but obviously also here at Hogwarts. I left her with every reason to hate me and yet not a syllable about what has happened passed her lips. And certainly nothing that would put me in need of an explanation now.
It's as loyal as it is calculated, not too emotionally charged and yet it symbolises her trust despite any moral indignation about my decisions.
It's brilliant and typically Ravenclaw.
I'd love to kiss her.

"And I'm afraid you'll have to discuss everything else with him yourself," she sourly interrupts my thoughts, "otherwise I'll be late for my next class as well."

"Ms Sullivan," Wolburry grumbles, "I'm no fool, do not pretend you didn't know where he's been!"

"Sir, if you must know," I finally cut in to cover her, "I caught dragon pox."

She doesn't let it on, but if she could, she'd probably curse me for this brazen lie. And yet it's so revitalising to share secrets with her again …

Wolburry's anger fades as fast as it is replaced with sudden horror.

"Dragon pox?" he repeats, intuitively taking a step back.

"I'm no longer contagious, sir," I assure him. "But I was. Hence I was unable to attend –"

"I understand, Tom, I understand," he is quick to say. "I – forgive my indiscretion … I didn't know that."

"I should've told you before class," I say with an impassive smile, "I just assumed that Professor Dippet might've already told his professors –"

"No, no – I mean – yes. Yes, he has. But without giving a reason. It was curiosity on my part, to be frank."

"Then I'm glad we were able to clear it up."

"Indeed." He nods uneasily. "All right, you may leave now. Both of you …"

"Thank you very much, sir," Harper says, and whether Wolburry can hear the cynical undertone in her voice is hard to judge. But I sure do. She immediately rushes away, and as much as I've always hated following people around, I can't help doing just that with her right now.

"Harper," I call after her, "Harper, you –"

With the sweetest smile on her pretty lips, she turns around – the professor is still watching us closely after all – but she merely hisses, "You've got a lot of nerve, Riddle, I was dying of worry, I thought you were dead! And now you're making up dragon pox?"

"How are you?" I ignore her cold anger but only seem to add fuel to the fire.

She frowns. "That is absolutely none of your business anymore!"

She doesn't give me another glance, disappearing into the hectic corridor just as quickly as she arrived.

And as I watch her run away from me, I realise that this situation leaves me in an utterly irritable mood.

I take a deep breath and luckily catch sight of the very person I wanted to speak to as soon as possible anyway.

Hagrid, with friends.
I need him alone, though. If that's not a distraction …

"Tom, you're back!" he rejoices, waving a friendly Hello as he sees me, and as nice as he may be, I'm sure his high spirits fade with me coming closer.

"You'd better hurry," I scowl at his companions in particular. As I approach the group of Gryffindors, I ask, "Don't your Prefects tell you to keep up in the corridors between classes?"

Hagrid's looking at me with wide eyes, and his friends – half his size – gulp. "Yes! They do …"

I deliberately wait for another reaction, but predictably, not much happens.

"Then what are you still doing here?" I finally say, shooing them away in the direction of the courtyard. "Move and study, otherwise I'll take house points for your extraordinarily slow comprehension." They hurry at last – but I don't want all of them gone. "Hagrid! Not you."

He pauses unlike the others and gives me a worried glance. "What? Why not me?"

"Let's take a little stroll," I suggest and the fact that I have to look up at him because of his height bothers me every time.
Does Harper feel like that each time she looks up at me?
How unpleasant …

"I have a bad feeling," Hagrid whispers, more to himself than to me even.

"No need for that, it all depends on how helpful you are," I assure him. "Within today, I'll need –"

"Today?" he immediately repeats, well alarmed. "I haven't forgotten our conversation before the holidays, but on the very first day you're back? Tom!"

"Rubeus! On the very first day I'm back I might just as well discuss the adequate keeping of young acromantulas in the castle with Professor Dippet, but –"

"No!" He quickly shakes his head. "That's all right. I'll get it done. Somehow."

I nod. "Glad to hear that. So this afternoon –"

"In the afternoon? But that's when we meet in the Room of Requirement!"

I'm a bit taken aback. "Is that today?"

"Yes!" He nods anxiously. "Every Thursday, you know – don't you remember?"

"I must get my schedule organised again," I grumble as though he wasn't even there. Then I look up again. "Alright, after the sixth lesson, then."

"What?" He's even more horrified than before. "How am I supposed to do that?"

"Don't take it personally, but that's not my problem," I all but reply. "I don't give a damn how you do it, but I'm sure if you wish to keep your … what's his name again?"

"Aragog," he whines.

"Yes, that. If you want him to remain within your –"

"It's all right!" he promises. "It's fine, I'll get it done."

"Marvelous," I hush. "And Hagrid? Keep up in the corridors."

The cold, damp air of the catacombs surrounds me like an old familiar spider's web, almost wet on the skin every time. High above Slytherin's secret halls, the sun may be at its zenith now, but it's always darkest night down here.

And yet I have no time to lose.
I want to shake off the irrational fear that she might be dead, and besides that, it's about time to find out – once and for all – whether Nagini's suspicions were correct.

Everything or nothing.
It's the only way to fulfill my vow sooner rather than later.

Either I'll die looking at her, or I'll be eternal by creating a Horcrux in the presence of the last living basilisk in Europe as quickly as possible.

"I didn't want to keep you starving – come and get what's yours."

With brisk steps, I approach Salazar's huge statue head – and by that the mouth behind which I suspect her. Judging by the vibrations on the ground, I'm not wrong.

"Tell me – could Slytherin look you in the eye?"

"So the master's heir is back," I hear her hiss. Her huge body unmistakably starts to move as the ground begins to shake. "The master never dared to look me in the eye – or let me be hungry …"

"Your hunger's lasted for centuries until only very recently," I remind her, "and I will look at you. I believe I can, Echidna."

Silence becomes loud for a moment, then I hear her again. "What was that?"

She finally glides towards me, with her eyes closed, as if to protect me despite her appetite. Her mighty head still makes me shudder, but rather with awe and fascination, not horror.

"Echidna," I repeat her name, "you are the mother of monsters, and according to Greek mythology, your eyes are beautiful – so show them to me."

"A name?" she hisses and rears up in front of me, making me bend my head back a bit. "After so many years?"

"You're no longer nameless in the cold darkness of the underworld," I say, letting my hand glide over her huge scales until she wraps herself around me. "And it's about time to test what we were made for – look at me."

"You'll die, son of Slytherin," she whispers her protest, "you cannot survive it – the master knew!"

I shouldn't have survived Nagini's bite either.
But I have.

"He never tried." I spread my arms and shake my head bitterly. "Those who cling too tightly to their lives will never go beyond the rules of this world. Look at me, Echidna, let's end it all now or let's outgrow our boundaries!"

"What's happened?" she asks, almost hesitant despite her supposed nature should dictate the complete opposite. "Why do you have nothing left to lose?"

"Look at me!"

"So be it," she whispers, bowing her head to me, "look at what I am."

My heart is pounding as she opens her huge, yellow eyes, but it doesn't stop beating as I hold her gaze.

I am not dying.
I'm not turning to stone.

We are of the same cold blood.
I understand her, she understands me – and that's probably one of the reasons why we can look at each other.

"Impossible," she whispers, but I just shake my head.

"I sincerely hope that nothing will ever be impossible for us again, Echidna. Only death …"

What follows is watching her snatch the hovering deer out of the air with merciless determination. She snaps its neck with a single jerk. That may be grotesque, but it's bearable. What I can't bear to watch is flesh bursting open in the face of the brute pressure she can exert so effortlessly.
Blood everywhere, like Morfin's …

"Where are you going?" she asks as I walk towards the exit of the chamber.

"Duties, Echidna. Nothing but duties … I'll be back soon."