Chapter Four
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THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAD BEEN OPENED.
It was all anyone at Hogwarts could talk about — the ominous message scrawled across the wall in jagged, dripping letters. The chilling words had set the entire castle on edge, and Rosie couldn't escape the buzz of fear that seemed to hum through the corridors. It was there in the hurried whispers between classes, in the darting glances students cast at one another, and in the nervous energy that clung to every shadowy corner.
Even the Great Hall, usually a haven of warmth and chatter during breakfast, felt different this morning. The golden light from the enchanted ceiling couldn't chase away the lingering tension. Rosie sat at the Slytherin table, poking distractedly at her scrambled eggs. Around her, the conversations were louder than usual, as if the students were trying to drown out their growing unease, but it wasn't working. Fear clung to the air like a fog.
Her eyes swept the hall, noting the expressions of her classmates' faces. Some wore masks of bravado, laughing a little too loudly. Others were quieter, their shoulders tense and their eyes wary. Rosie's eyes gaze drifted to the Gryffindor table, where Esmie Grisky sat surrounded by some of her housemates. The second-year looked paler than usual, her wide eyes betraying her anxiety. Rosie felt a pang of sympathy for her.
Everyone knew the rumours about the Chamber of Secrets, and Esmie, a Muggle-born, had every reason to be afraid. Rosie wanted to reassure her, but how could she? The fear gnawed at Rosie's own thoughts, leaving her stomach in knots. What if the legends were true? What if there really was a monster lurking within the castle walls?
The sound of Mattheo Riddle's voice broke through her thoughts, "Is Esmie still freaking out about the Chamber of Secrets being opened?" He asked, leaning slightly toward Lorenzo Berkshire, who sat beside him. Rosie turned her head, drawn to their conversation.
"Can you blame her?" Lorenzo replied, his voice tight. His gaze flicked briefly toward Esmie, and Rosie could see the tension in his shoulders. Lorenzo's protective nature was impossible to miss, and Rosie knew he was worried — not just for Esmie, but for everyone in the castle.
Further down the Slytherin table, Draco's sneer cut through the low hum of conversation, "I don't get why you're still hanging around with that filthy little Mudblood."
The words hit Rosie like a slap. Her stomach twisted, and her hands curled into fists under the table. She hated that word — hated the venom in Draco's voice when he said it. Blood purity was a concept she had grown up hearing about, but she despised it. It was archaic and cruel, and Rosie couldn't stand how easily others wielded it like a weapon.
"Don't call her that!" Lorenzo snapped, his temper flaring. His voice was sharp enough to turn a few heads, but he didn't seem to care. "Just because she's Muggle-born doesn't mean she's any less than —"
"Ooo, look out, everyone!" Draco interrupted with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Lorenzo's defending his Mudblood girlfriend."
Lorenzo opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could, Theodore Nott leaned forward, his voice cutting smoothly through the tension, "Enough. We've got bigger things to worry about than Malfoy's mouth."
Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't press further, and Rose shot Theo a grateful look.
Across the table, Stacey dropped into the seat across from Rosie, setting down her plate with a clatter. "You know, I still think it's a prank," she said breezily, stabbing at her bacon with her fork. "All this fuss over some stupid writing on the wall."
"Maybe," Rosie murmured, though she didn't believe it. She couldn't stop thinking about the look on Dumbledore's face when he'd seen the message — grave and unreadable, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't a prank. It felt too deliberate, too dark.
Breakfast passed in a blur, with Rosie barely tasting her food. Her mind kept circling back to the rumours, to the legend of the Chamber, and the monster that supposedly lay within it. She remembered reading about it late one night in the library, the pages filled with half-truths and terrifying possibilities. Now those stories didn't seem so far-fetched.
By the time the bell rang for their first class, Rosie's nerves were frayed. She gathered her things, her hands trembling slightly as she slung her bag over her shoulder. As she followed the others out of the Great Hall, she glanced back at Esmie one more time. The younger girl was laughing at something her friend had said, but Rosie could see the fear lingering in her eyes.
Rosie turned away, her resolve hardening. Whatever was going on, she would find out the truth. The Chamber of Secrets had been opened — and she had a sinking feeling that the danger was only just beginning.
Once in the classroom, Rosie slipped into her usual seat near the middle row and flipped open her textbook. The familiar scent of parchment and ink filled the air, but the comfort it usually brought her was absent. Her eyes skimmed the pages lazily, though her mind was far away. Her fingers absently trailed over the words about Hogwarts' founders, lingering on Salazar Slytherin's name. The legend of the Chamber of Secrets had always been tied to him, and Rosie had read countless accounts of his desire to rid the school of Muggle-borns, but what if the legend wasn't just a story? What if it was true? The thought sent a chill down her spine.
The classroom buzzed softly with the chatter of students, but Rosie hardly noticed. Her heart pounded in her chest as questions swirled in her mind. Who had opened the Chamber? Was there really a monster hidden somewhere beneath the castle? And if so, who would be its next target?
She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice Tom enter the room until he was already seated. Tom's presence always seemed to draw attention, whether he wanted it or not. He moved with a quiet confidence that bordered on arrogance, and his sharp features only added to the air of mystery that surrounded him. The soft scrape of his chair pulled Rosie from her thoughts, and when she glanced up, she found his dark eyes already studying her. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze flicking to the book she had been poring over. Something about the intensity of her focus seemed to pique his curiosity.
Before he could speak, Stacey's voice broke through the him of the classroom.
"The Chamber of Secrets?" Stacey leaned over Rosie's shoulder, peering at the page she had been reading. "Why are you reading about that? Didn't we already decide the message on the wall was just some stupid prank?"
Rosie hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the edge of her textbook. "I don't think it's a prank," she replied quietly, showing Stacey the passage she'd been studying. "Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. There's Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, but Slytherin didn't agree with the others — he wanted only purebloods to attend Hogwarts. The legend says he built the Chamber of Secrets to house a monster that would purge the school of Muggle-borns."
Stacey groaned, "Rosie, I really don't care. Why are you reading about Hogwarts' ancient history? Honestly, you need to stop worrying about this. It's probably just some older students trying to scare the first-years."
As the lessons began, Rosie forced herself to focus, though her thoughts lingered on the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets.
Classes passed uneventfully, though Rosie remained quieter than usual. She sat hunched over her desk, her quill scratching on the parchment as she took meticulous notes. Her brow furrowed in concentration, and every so often, she flipped through the pages of her textbook, her fingers pausing over certain passages as though committing them to memory. Despite the soft murmur of the lesson unfolding around her, Rosie's focus seemed elsewhere — fixed on something deeper, more unsettling.
Tom couldn't help but notice. From his seat a few rows away, his eyes drifted to her more often than he intended. It wasn't just the intensity with which she worked that caught his attention; it was the tension in her posture, the occasional flicker of doubt or worry that crossed her expression when she thought no one was watching. It was unlike her. Rosie wasn't the type to lose herself in speculation or fear — at least, not usually.
He leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze lingering as she scribbled furiously in the margins of her notes. Whatever she was thinking about had clearly taken root, and Tom found himself curious. Rosie had always been sharp, but this was something else. This appeared to be obsession.
When the professor called on her to answer a question, Rosie snapped back to reality, her cheeks colouring slightly as she sat up straighter. She gave a brief, articulate response, but Tom noticed the way her hand trembled slightly as she set her quill down afterward. She was rattled, even if she was trying to hide it.
As the lesson dragged on, Tom found himself watching her more closely. He didn't miss the way her fingers tried the edge of the page when she thought no one was looking, or the way her lips moved silently as though reciting something to herself. By the time the professor dismissed the class, Rosie was one of the last to pack up her things, still lingering over the notes she'd taken.
Once everyone had left the classroom, Rosie gathered her books and made a beeline for the library. Her heart pounded as she walked, each step fuelled by a sense of urgency she couldn't shake. She needed answers. The legend of the Chamber of Secrets had always fascinated her, but now it felt like more like more than just an old story.
The library was quieter than usual, the dim afternoon light casting long shadows across the rows of towering shelves. Rosie slipped into a secluded corer, her favourite spot near the Restricted Section, and began pulling books from the shelves. Titles about Hogwarts' founders, ancient magical architecture, and blood purity filled her table within minutes. She sat down, surrounded by the heavy tomes, and began flipping through pages, her fingers trembling slightly.
Her eyes scanned the text hungrily, searching for any mention of the Chamber, Slytherin's monster, or clues about its location. Each passage she read only deepened her unease. The descriptions of Salazar Slytherin beliefs and the whispers about his hidden chamber made her skin crawl. She jotted down notes, pausing only to push her hair out of her face and glance nervously around the room.
She didn't notice Tom until his shadow fell across her table. Startled, she looked up to find him watching her, his expression calm but his eyes filled with curiosity.
"What are you doing, Rosie?" Tom asked, his voice low but deliberate.
She blinked at him, surprised by his sudden appearance — and even more surprised that he had called her Rosie. It wasn't like him to use nicknames, especially not for her.
"You never call me Rosie," she said, her voice tinged with suspicion.
Tom ignored the comment, his gaze flicking to the open books scattered across the table, "Are you still reading about the Chamber of Secrets? Does this have something to do with what you were talking to Stacey about earlier?"
Rosie raised an eyebrow, "You were listening?"
Tom shrugged, leaning casually against the edge of the table, "You know a lot about Hogwarts history. Why don't you tell me what you've found?"
Rosie hesitated. She didn't know why, but something about the way he looked at her made her uneasy. Still, she couldn't deny her own curiosity about his sudden interest. She sighed and pushed one of the books toward him.
"Fine," she said. "The Chamber of Secrets was supposedly built by Salazar Slytherin. It's said to house a monster that only his heir can control, and its purpose is to rid the school of all Muggle-borns. The Chamber has been a legend for centuries, but I don't think it's just a story."
Tom's expression didn't change, but Rosie thought she caught a flicker of something in his eyes — something dark and unreadable. It was gone so quickly that she almost convinced herself she'd imagined it.
"What do you think?" Tom asked, his voice quieter now, more intense.
Rosie swallowed, her eyes locking with his, "I think ... I think the Chamber of Secrets is real, and I think someone's opened it."
For a moment, Tom didn't move. Then he stiffened, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. He stood abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping against the stone floor. Rosie flinched at the sound.
"I'll see you around, Rosalia," he muttered, the formal use of her name making her feel even more unsettled.
Before she could respond, he turned and strode out of the library, his steps echoing in the silence. Rosie sat frozen, staring after him, her pulse quickening. Something was off. She could feel it.
Tom knew more than he was letting on — she was sure of it, but what? And why he wouldn't tell her?
Rosie stared down at the open books, her notes scattered across the table. The answers she needed were somewhat in these pages, but for the first time, she wondered if she really wanted to find them.
The rest of the day passed in a blur, with Rosie's mind constantly circling back to Tom's strange behaviour. She replayed their conversation in the library over and over, searching for clues in his words, his tone, even the way he looked at her. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something — something important — and it gnawed at her, leaving her restless and uneasy.
By the time lunch rolled around, Rosie was too distracted to focus on anything else. The Great Hall buzzed with chatter and laughter, the excitement for the upcoming Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match electrifying the air, but Rosie barely noticed. She pushed her food around her plate, her appetite completely gone.
"What's with you today?" Stacey asked, raising an eyebrow as she plopped down beside Rosie and immediately started piling food onto her own plate "You've been acting weird since class. Did something happen?"
Rosie hesitated, torn between brushing it off and confessing what had been bothering her, but the words stuck in her throat. "Nothing," she muttered instead, stabbing at her potatoes with her fork. "Just thinking."
Stacey gave her a skeptical look, clearly unconvinced, "Thinking about what? Don't tell me you're still obsessing over that Chamber of Secrets nonsense. Honestly, Rosie, you need to let it go. It's just a stupid legend. No one's actually in danger. You're stressing yourself out over nothing."
Rosie glanced up, her expression tightening, "What if it's not just a legend? What if it's real? And what if someone's opened it?"
Stacey rolled her eyes, "You sound like one of those nutters who believe Hogwarts is cursed. Listen, I love a good mystery as much as the next witch, but this? It's a stretch. You're letting your imagination run wild."
Rosie didn't respond. Instead, she looked down at her plate, her stomach churning. Stacey's dismissive tone only made her feel more isolated. No one else seemed to take this seriously — not even her closest friend, but Rosie couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
"Well, stop thinking," Stacey said, breaking the silence. "We've got the Gryffindor versus Slytherin Quidditch match after this, and I want you there with me cheering for our team. You need to take your mind off all this Chamber of Secrets rubbish."
Rosie forced a smile, though her thoughts were still far from the Quidditch game. "Yeah, sure, I'll be there," she replied, but even as she said it, her gaze drifted toward the doors of the Great Hall, half-expecting to see Tom walk through them.
She couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at her — like he knew something she didn't, and as the noise of the Great Hall swirled around her, Rosie's unease only deepened.
After lunch, they made their way to the Quidditch pitch, the excitement in the air palpable. The stands were packed with students, all eager to watch the much-anticipated match. Banners waved, enchanted to shimmer in house colours, and the sounds of cheers and chants echoed through the stadium. Rosie had never been much of a Quidditch fan, but today she needed the distraction more than ever.
As they settled into the stands, Rosie's eyes wandered to the field, where the Gryffindor and Slytherin teams were assembling. She spotted little Esmie Grisky among the Gryffindor players, looking small and nervous as she adjusted her gloves. Rosie couldn't help but smile, feeling a surge of pride for the young girl. It was hard not to admire her bravery — stepping onto the pitch for her first big match with all eyes watching.
The game began with the usual intensity, both teams fighting fiercely for dominance. The Quaffle zipped through the air as players darted back and forth, weaving around each other with practiced precision. Rosie cheered for Slytherin, but her gaze kept drifting to Esmie, silently rooting for the second-year in her first big match. Despite the aggressive play from the older students, Esmie held her own, dodging Bludgers and passing the Quaffle with surprising skill.
But halfway through the match, something strange happened. A Bludger that had been flying normally suddenly veered off course and began relentlessly chasing Harry, who was high above the pitch, searching for the Golden Snitch.
"That's not normal," Rosie muttered, narrowing her eyes as she watched the Bludger target Harry.
Stacey, who had been cheering loudly moments before, frowned, "Yeah, that doesn't look right."
The crowd's attention shifted as Harry tried to dodge the rogue Bludger, but it was clear that something was seriously wrong. The Bludger wasn't behaving like it should — it was as if it had a mind of its own, following Harry no matter where he flew. Gasps and murmurs spread through the stands, and Rosie's heart pounded as she gripped the edge of her seat.
She barely noticed the rest of the game as Harry dodged the rogue Bludger, his broom zigzagging through the sky in a desperate attempt to avoid being hit. Meanwhile, Draco was hot on the trail of the Golden Snitch, clearly hoping to take advantage of Harry's distraction.
And then, in a sudden, heart-stopping moment, Draco lost control of his broom and crashed to the ground. The Snitch darted away, and Harry seized the opportunity, catching it just as the Bludger slammed into him, knocking him off his broom.
"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!" The announcer's voice rang out, but the victory felt hollow as students rushed onto the field to check on Harry.
Rosie hurried down from the stands, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the match. She spotted Esmie hurrying toward Harry, her face pale with worry.
"Harry, are you alright?" Esmie asked, her voice shaky as she crouched down beside him.
Lockhart was already there, making a spectacle of himself as usual, "Not to worry, Harry. I'll fix that arm of yours straight away."
Rosie rolled her eyes, and she wasn't surprised to see Harry shaking his head in protest. "No! Not you!" He insisted, but Lockhart waved him off.
"Poor boy doesn't know what he's saying," Lockhart said, pulling out his wand. "Brackium Emendo!"
Rosie cringed as she watched Lockhart botch the spell, turning Harry's arm to jelly. The other students groaned in disgust as Harry's limp arm flopped uselessly by his side.
"There's no bones left!" Hagrid bellowed, his voice booming across the field.
Lockhart, undeterred by his failure, shrugged. "Much more flexible though," he said, bending Harry's wrist in demonstration.
Rosie shook her head in disbelief, watching as the scene unfolded. Esmie looked horrified, and Lorenzo quickly came over to comfort her, pulling her into a tight hug. Rosie noticed the way his eyes darted nervously around the field, clearly scanning for any further threats.
As the match ended and students began to disperse, Rosie couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. Something was wrong at Hogwarts — very wrong — and she wasn't sure how much longer she could ignore it. The rogue Bludger wasn't an accident.
Her thoughts wandered back to Tom and his strange behaviour earlier. Was it connected? She couldn't be sure, but her instincts told her this was only the beginning of something much darker.
After the game, Rosie found herself wandering the castle, her thoughts still swirling around the Chamber of Secrets and Tom's strange behaviour. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't push the uneasy feeling away. It gnawed at her, leaving her restless and anxious. She didn't know what was driving her, but she needed to confront him — to find out what he knew.
The corridors were dimly lit, the flickering torches casting long shadows along the stone walls. Rosie's footsteps echoed softly as she trailed after Tom, who was heading towards the Prefects' bathroom. She hesitated when he disappeared inside, her hand pausing on the heavy door. Her pulse quickened. Was she really about to do this?
Before she could talk herself out of it, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The sound of running water filled the room and steam curled lazily into the air. Rosie froze as her gaze landed on Tom, standing in front of the massive, ornate tub, completely naked.
Tom turned sharply, his eyes wide with shock. "Rosalia!" He shouted, as he scrambled to cover himself, grabbing a nearby towel.
Rosie's face turned bright red, her eyes widening in horror. "Oh — I —- I — uh — sorry!" She stammered, backing away so quickly that she nearly tripped over her own feet. Her heart was pounding as she spun around, shielding her eyes with her hands and bolting out of the bathroom.
Her mind raced as she fled down the corridor, her cheeks burning with humiliation. What had she been thinking, barging in like that? She couldn't stop replaying the scene in her head — Tom's expression, his voice, and the brief, mortifying glance she'd caught of him.
By the time she reached the Slytherin common room, Rosie felt like she was going to explode from embarrassment. She dashed to her dormitory, flung herself onto her bed, and buried her face in her pillow, letting out a muffled scream of frustration. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, but one thing was becoming painfully clear.
She had feelings for Tom Riddle.
Rosie groaned into her pillow, hating herself for it. Tom was the last person she wanted to have feelings for — arrogant, enigmatic, and infuriating as he was, and yet, the more she tried to deny it, the stronger the realisation became. Her heart betrayed her, racing every time she thought about him, and now she couldn't stop picturing the scene in the Prefects' bathroom.
What was she going to do now?
Rosie sat up, hugging her knees as she stared out the window at the lake. She needed to get a grip, but her thoughts wouldn't settle. Why had Tom been acting so strangely lately? And why did she care so much? She hated the power he seemed to have over her emotions, the way her stomach twisted whenever he was near. It wasn't fair.
Rosie sighed and flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow, she decided, she would talk to him. She would push past the awkwardness and find out what he was hiding, because no matter how complicated her feelings were, she couldn't let them distract her from what really mattered — uncovering the truth about the Chamber of Secrets.
And if confront Tom Riddle was the key to finding answers, then she would do it — even if it meant facing her feelings head-on.
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I adore Rosie so much 🥺
Enjoy! Xo
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