CHAPTER TEN
_________

Hogwarts' edgy fare was spreading above the pale clouds of Scotland, and as October was passing with his elaborating shades of amber and caramel, a suave breeze of an upcoming warning, could only alarm the winter was coming to bring the freezing that every year was auguring.

As it seems Demeter never got used to disaffiliating her beloved daughter, Persephone, after all these decades, or even after the start of the universe. This year she seems to miss her more than usual. Every rain she brought was her bodacious tears hosing the fecund land of the Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft.

The forceful wind was a misery wheeze that she was letting herself blow to remove the burden that was nesting inside of her. Persephone coming to the underworld, to find the embrace of Hades, did not only take away the palliative weather, but the poor girl's prudery psyche too.

Demeter was surely standing next to Y/n empathizing with her silent ode for her peculiar reasons. The freezing was unbearable and she could feel even her bones acquiring some kind of stalactites that were patiently waiting to break down into millions of crystal pieces ending once again her eternal vigilance. Her cheeks were florid and her lips were bleeding— perhaps from the cold or even from her anxiety.

Under different circumstances, Y/n would feel limitless bliss hearing Tom Riddle referring to her as my darling, my dear, and all these names that could make a girl's heart explode with radioactivity of plenitude. A massive fog that someone only could find in the depths of their heart. However, right now was not the case.

Everyone has dreams that sometimes they are not responding to reality, a utopia of bogus hopes and ease that gives the illusion of a deceitful world, away from everything that represents the cruel and bleak that reigns. Or again, a plain dream could be a nightmare for some other. Her dream was an illusion that she had so falsely planted into her head. A naive action she did defying the darkness and the jeopardy that was lurking behind her back so pridefully and with such grace.

Solitude was her only escape, even though she could not even stand herself in this void of emptiness. She thought it would be relieving to be alone without the presence of someone asking her constantly about her next moves. However, even with herself, she felt uncomfortable. But, honestly, since when she had such a strong sense of morality?

The prophecy itself was for her a Vesuvius, erupting with lava falling and burning whatever had not been burnt by the Armageddon that was settled, so firmly spreading its net in the whole spectrum of existence.

"You have a lot on your mind, no?" a voice heard and Y/n closed the book she had established in her lap. The chafed cover of the book made her skin cringe, as she pulled a tiny fiber that was hanging by its edge out of awkwardness. She did not know Anthony Rosier that much, not even from the movies, only from fictional books to say to be more specific, and now seeing him approaching her made her feel quite weird.

The boy may he had common beauty, but he was more than ethereal. His coiffure was blended with the color of chestnut while his hazel eyes were hooded, and all of them in a combination adorned perfectly his round stern face. His posture was elegant, like every other student that was sorted into the Slytherin house. As it seems the emerald house justifiably had the infamous sobriquet of dignity as the heirs of the most pureblood families wore it with such ambition.

Y/n observed him, and she had to admit to herself that even with the presence of this wizard, who probably was one of the most liable and sworn followers of Lord Voldemort, she felt a little glimpse of security, acknowledging that she would not be alone with herself for another moment. Alone with her thoughts that were lacking fresh air from her lungs as if someone had put on top of her head a plastic bag.

This feeling was becoming more and more suffocating.

"Well, at times like these, it seems that the human mind is constantly preoccupied with something," she was not sure why he came so unexpectedly and caught a conversation with her, but after all, Y/n was glad that someone did.

"You talk about human matters, as this current Muggle war concerns our well-being, eh," the boy commented taking a sit next to her at the bench. Of course, how could Rosier know that she was a girl from a different reality, a muggle, who had been involved in their world under a prophecy? However, the radiant indifference in his tone about the hardships that muggles were facing made her marvel with fury; how could someone be so odious about the fact that humans were suffering under the severe ramifications of World War II?

"Do not act like it is far away from us. Besides, there is still Grindelwald roaming. Our community faces a counterpart war too. It is hubris to defy muggle's sorrow with such arrogance," and the fact that The Knights and his leader were about to nullify this sorrow with a new type of misery left into her tongue a sour taste.

The boy scoffed, "Muggles were burning us thousands of years ago. Impaling us into woods, that even their improvident haughtiness made them murder even some of their race. Chanting while watching our skin melting, as our souls left our bodies slow and excruciating, And now, Greengrass, you tell me to show mercy on them?"

Nothing was enough to be mentioned by her to calm his radiant outburst. It was common sense that the Medieval times had not brought glory to the wizarding world, nor in the muggle world in general. Prejudice and folly were reigning in common folks' minds which led to terrible disasters. Women were accused of witchcraft and other malicious actions, and sometimes foully, only because they did not satisfy a man's filthy desires.

She had never understood until now why wizards have such hatred against muggles. But now she could see it. It was fair for them to feel justice by watching the muggle burning in hellfire.

"Yes, I am sorry. It is just that some events need to be left in the past and never be made again. Rosier, isn't it?"

The stern gaze on his face vanished, and a charming smile appeared on his flawless features "In flesh and bones. As it seems I dissolved your peace, excuse me for my outburst,"

Y/n returned the smile "It is alright, I understand. I was a little taken aback when you caught a conversation with me. You see, we are not quite familiar with each other,"

"Understood. You and Johnson are quite popular in our group as you are friends with the Macmillan girl," he explained and then passed his hand through his hair "But, I had never the opportunity to get to know you. You seem like an interesting person,"

Her cheeks turned crimson, and she wished it was from the cold. Oh, you can not even imagine how interesting "Ah, different houses, different hobbies. I had never thought to get involved with your small group," if she was good at something right now, surely she was a good hypocrite— pretending to have been in this world all of her life and having the same lifestyle as the rest of the wizards was something easy in comparison with other things she had to take care of for her task.

He nodded his head "I mean, you seem like a watcher. Like a person that prefers to observe and listen than talk," Observing all of you is my top occupation, you all need to be seen by doctors "Am I wrong?"

Was he wrong? Despite her new talent of being a hypocrite, Y/n was an introvert that was indeed the kind of person that would listen to whatever her friends were telling, or closely observe while the power of her mind was stronger than her verbal one.

"And you seem like an undercover daydreamer who seeks a peaceful life away from concerns and complex situations, am I wrong?"

Was she wrong? She had little information about this boy, and well the tons of fiction books she was reading could not reflect this boy's reality at maximum scale. His gaze became serious and Y/n could tell by his expression that her question made him wonder about something that was probably buried in the back of his head.

She was wondering for him, however, how these boys were in reality. What lead them to take the wrong path and be recruited, as if they were loyal dogs, to Voldemort's side? After all, they were teenagers who had all their life ahead of them, and again, choose to spend it next to a ruthless leader that was living in his neat twisted utopia.

Anthony Rosier looked at her "What else can you do in this world after all? Daydreaming is a way to escape your reality, but at times like these even with a single sight of hope in your eyes, someone would assume that you are a lunatic. Are you trying to escape your reality, Y/n Greengrass?"

She felt as if a knot had tied her esophagus cutting every source of oxygen she could get from the clear atmosphere. His question made her stomach clench and a cold sweat ran down her spine "What is the point? I can only hope that shortly these vicious people that ruling so greedily, are going to pay for their actions,"

"As Ardieus from Plato's Republic? You adopt this kind of philosophy?"

"Can you remind me?"

"The psyches that had a transgressive past were supposed to be trapped in the underworld trying to pay for their sins. Every time they supposedly soothed, they had to pass through the gates of Hades into their freedom. However, if their wicked nature was not redeemed, the gates would groan and would not accept them. Therefore, they would be chafed and thrown into spiny blooms, tearing them. Ardieus, a Greek tyrant, was one of them,"

The girl was impressed, and for a boy that was admittedly involved with the obscure occupation of dark arts, he seemed to have disputably great knowledge about morals in general "I am not familiar with ancient Greek prose," she admitted.

Anthony chuckled "They are the start of everything. If you want a can learn you one thing or two," He shrugged and Y/n smiled at his kind offer.

Maybe Anthony Rosier was not that bad.

________

Tom Riddle had a peculiar attraction towards the ambiance of the age-long library of Hogwarts. Wherever he was there, he had a specific posture and place, in the corner of the room, as if he was a statue that belonged between the cold stone walls.

The boy had his elegant Slytherin robe tucked away while his slender finger roamed the creased pages of the book he had selected from the restricted section of the library.

A Guide to the Dark Arts - The Definition of Mysticism

The only source of luminosity he had was a small stand with a candle in its middle. The shadows that it made hit his face almost perfectly, empathizing his deep verdant eyes with a faded light color. However, his irises could only reflect a boy that was hiding great madness in the depths of his mind. An antithesis to the obscurity that had been established on it since he could remember himself.

The smell of the burnt candle filled the room, which was not as suffocating as it used to be. It seems that the boy had grown accustomed to this heavy scent entering his body and somehow hypnotizing him. It was something relaxing, something one would encounter on a sunny autumn day, a serene fragrance that anyone would come across before something terrible happened.

A Renaissance, an Enlightenment, not for his mind, as is customary, that had always been rotten, and surely no remedy or medicine could heal him from his sickly self. But, his soul and spirit would endure all these changes. And combined with his actions, an entire generation of wizards would be introduced to a bright future with him as their leader. He would never find salvation, and since he would not, he would continue to carry out the task bestowed upon him by fate, no matter how abhorrent it may be.

He carefully flipped through pages in the book to show her when Y/n would arrive, and as he did, some doubts began to flood him like a cold stream. Would he truly help this girl?

He did not know what exactly drew him to her so intricately to the point that he would find himself observing her throughout the day, mentally noting every movement she made. Whatever it was that whispered in his ear rang like a bell, and if he wanted to maintain the slightest semblance of inner peace he had left, it would be better to silence it quickly and forever.

The image of her presence in his mind was blurry as if there were a blank page in his memory that he had abandoned long ago. He remembered everyone, observed everyone and no one escaped his watchful eye. But now, with the existence of this girl, even for that, he hesitated to respond to the obsession that had lodged itself for her in his head like a parasite.

The boy sighed. Why was he helping her? Perhaps to alleviate that heavy emotion that weighed on his chest every time he saw her. That feeling of ignorance and doubt in the face of the unknown. Maybe if he knew her a little better and had her closer to his field of vision, he could decipher her better.

Only then would that deafening siren in his head stop, the one that rang every time he noticed her presence. Every time he observed her participate in class by raising her hand or when she walked past him with her hair shining as brightly as the sun, her eyes sparkling with fury every time he met his. Her teeth bit her lips when she was anxious, giving them a hue reminiscent of the fruits of the forest—

What was he thinking? The images of the girl vanished from his mind, and Tom became irritated with his carelessness. The female nature was indeed marvelous, but it was no more important than his purpose. He hated that his mind operated with such mechanisms that he could not even control it.

The heavy doors of the library opened, and footsteps echoed on the cold marble. Tom instinctively extinguished his candle and tried to merge with the shadows that surrounded him (which was not too difficult). The last thing he wanted now was to be a professor.

Fortunately for him, Y/n Greengrass appeared among the shelves, searching for the boy. Tom observed her, and someone could swear that the boy was not even breathing as his eyes followed her.

Y/n wore a cloak that concealed her hair and some features of her face. She lifted it slightly to find the boy or any sign of him. However, all she saw was darkness, books, stacks of parchment, and two emerald eyes staring expressionlessly at her. The girl was startled, and a shiver ran through her skin as she noticed Tom Riddle sitting without any light amidst the shadows. What a lovely welcome.

"Do you do this often?" she asked, visibly annoyed as she approached him.

Riddle shook his head and lit the candle he had extinguished earlier with his wand. "Which one? Helping you or lurking in the shadows?"

"Good question," she replied, taking a seat across from him.

"Yes and no. I respond to you accordingly," he said.

"It seems strange to me, you know," she began. "Why do some people have this tendency to believe that by only showing their negative side, they will inspire fear in others? I really can not understand it. You look incredibly ridiculous now, for example."

Tom's eyes darkened. "Watch your tongue, do not make me retract my valuable assistance, Greengrass," he paused and leaned his head towards her, as if about to reveal some terrible secret. "Also, some of us do not have even a glimmer of light to show to the outside world."

Y/n looked at him and sighed. "Then create one, for goodness' sake."

"How exactly am I supposed to do that, Greengrass? Through photosynthesis?"

The most inappropriate thing Y/n could do at that moment was burst into laughter at Riddle's behavior, but somehow she held back. She shrugged and responded indifferently, "If there is a will, there is a way."

"You know nothing," he retorted.

"You are right, I do not know," she replied.

The boy cleared his throat and let the discussion about his psyche composition fade away into the air as if it were something inconsequential. "Well, back to the subject at hand. I want you to tell me what you generally know about dark arts."

"Are you going to test me now?"

"Do not use your cheap evasions at me, just answer."

Y/n mumbled, "I do not know much. I only know about unforgivable curses, though I certainly have never practiced them. As for dark magic, I am familiar with terms like necromancy, Horcruxes..." As soon as the girl uttered the last word, his eyes sparked, and it was not from the candlelight.

Y/n could tell that the boy was restraining any reaction to escape his features, and he was doing it quite successfully. "But of course, I do not know what those exactly entail."

"Just those?" he asked her.

"Yes, should there be more?"

Tom raised his eyebrows and adjusted his posture. "And what made you think that I would be involved in such matters? You know Greengrass, I could easily report your deviant behavior to our professors."

"I told you this morning. People with exceptional intelligence and outstanding academic performance cannot be satisfied with the simple and everyday knowledge provided by the school. They seek nourishment in other matters... sometimes darker and macabre ones, depending on the person. But if you do not know about them, then I apologize, I assumed you possessed such knowledge," she explained.

Y/n was trying to be clever and entice him to reveal the cards he hid so well up his sleeves. She struck him right where it would hurt— his agility and abilities.

"I hope this pathetic apology you requested is not a way to label me unworthy," he told her sharply, and she raised her hands.

"No, of course not. I just mentioned it in case there was a misunderstanding," Riddle realized that something had changed in her behavior. She was speaking to him with more respect and perhaps with a less confrontational character. He liked that.

"No misunderstanding, my dear. Do not worry," he leafed through the book in front of him, tapping rhythmically on the thick cover with his ring. "Well, you have a long way ahead of you. You will have to work very hard to perfect the book of dark spells I will give you and to impress me as well."

Tom Riddle pulled the book in front of her, and she took it, barely touching his frozen fingers. Hers, on the other hand, were clammy, perhaps from anxiety or her body temperature. The boy felt the warmth penetrate his cells and sensed it trying to reach somewhere within him, but it ended up turning into dust.

"Who is there?" a voice sounded, and the two students exchanged a glance. Tom blew out the candle, signaling Y/n to hide under the table. She obediently crouched down silently, joining Tom in their attempt to conceal themselves from the unexpected visitor.

The table was not big enough, so they had to squeeze in tightly to fit. Their heads collided, and both let out sharp cries as the intense pain pierced their skulls. Y/n rubbed the spot, while Tom gave her a disapproving look. "Watch out, careless witch," he whispered.

"You watch out. Idiot," she retorted.

A kick accidentally slipped from Tom, hitting her in the shin, causing her to flinch. "Do you have a problem?" she asked, irritated.

"Yes, and you and I will have one even bigger if the bloody caretaker finds us huddled under a table with a book of dark magic up our sleeves. How did I not foresee this sooner?" he rhetorically questioned himself.

"It seems like your genius has abandoned you," the girl sarcastically remarked, and if they were not under this table, Tom would have surely burned her alive with that candlestick.

"Remind me later to drown you in the Black Lake,"

"Spiteful," the girl sourly replied.

The footsteps of the caretaker grew louder, and as they waited for him to appear any moment, Tom noticed that half of the girl was protruding from the table. "Pull your legs in," he whispered urgently, but she gave him a disdainful look.

"I can not. We can not both fit under here as you see," she replied, turning her back to him.

The boy sighed and pulled her from the waist, pressing her back against his chest. An exclamation escaped Y/n's lips as she felt his hands tightly embracing her waist, and the atmosphere around them grew increasingly tense. She could feel his heartbeat on her back and his breath next to her ear, causing a sensation akin to when someone is about to faint. If someone were to find them like this, they would surely think something else was happening.

The caretaker arrived on the side where they were hiding, and their hearts synchronized in the rhythm of adrenaline and anxiety. His footsteps passed in front of the table and suddenly stopped. "I must be hallucinating. That is what you get when you grow old..." the poor caretaker murmured melancholically, and Y/n smiled at the reaction of the diminutive wizard.

A considerable amount of time passed until they heard the huge library gate closing once again, and when it did, the two teenagers swiftly made their way out. Tom adjusted his clothes, and the girl did the same without exchanging a glance.

"Quite an adventure, don't you agree?" the girl asked, clearly trying to lighten the atmosphere between them.

"A little dose of adrenaline during the day is good," Tom replied.

Y/n shook her head. "When will we meet again?"

Tom raised an eyebrow. "When you finish your studying. It will not be hard to find me," he said, with his hands back at his waist. He turned his back to her and before disappearing on the other side, he looked at her expressionlessly. "Good night, Greengrass. Do not dare let a thing slip away from you about this night to anyone," his final words sounded like a threat, and she simply nodded her head.

The two students departed from their meeting point, heading in different directions. Tom arrived at the door first, with an unfamiliar feeling within him, which he swiftly suppressed with his stronger sense of indifference. Meanwhile, Y/n was delayed as she stopped in front of a shelf in the library. Along with the book of Dark Charms, she took another one:

M&W Psychosynthesis Antithesis

It was common sense that wizards and muggles had different development as it concerns brain functions. And if she wanted to understand everything about the boy named Tom Riddle, she first needed to learn how the mechanisms of his mind worked.

__________

Comment and vote <33
I REALLY LOVE THIS CHAPTER LMAO