ANATOMY OF FELIXIUS PARKIN - THE HEAD-BOY

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

The first Quidditch game of the semester was Slytherin against Ravenclaw. They had moved it from a Saturday to a Friday, and had scheduled it earlier due to the event of Arthur being petrified. It was a match that usually brought in a massive crowd. There was a good reason behind this too. Although Gryffindor was usually the house with the best team, Hufflepuff had been dominating that year, and Slytherin came in right after — save for the embarrassment of their game without Ivy Trouche— due to their aggressive gameplay and dirty tricks. Ravenclaw, on the other hand, might have been deemed the lesser house in the overall score, and yet their gameplay was so neatly calculated it was mesmerizing to watch.

It had never done much against the spontaneous Gryffindors, who also seemed to act on a whim and shatter their tactics, and the Hufflepuffs, as kind as they were, had the most adaptable gameplay. However, Slytherins were schemers, and because of that, their games against Ravenclaw always showcased in-depth knowledge of Quidditch.

Ivy had forced Varya into attending, condemning her for not seeing any of her past games, and the girl reluctantly agreed after the Chaser had pulled the "heartbroken over a breakup" card. It was truly not the Eastern witch's scenery; she much preferred when she was by herself in the library.

The Quidditch field was as it had always been, with large hoops placed on its ends, and multiple towers of bleachers scattered along its width. The announcer was in the same booth as the teacher's, and Varya could briefly make out Justin Abbott's golden hair in the dim sun, standing in his Hufflepuff uniform amongst a sea of professional robes.

"Welcome back, Hogwarts students! Today we have the first match of the semester, and the Slytherin and Ravenclaw teams are eager to start the year with an outstanding match, the duel of the brightest and most competitive minds," his voice reverberated through the system, followed by the roars of students as the House teams made their way to the stadium, tightly gripping on their brooms.

Varya's heart swelled with pride as Ivy soared into the sky, blonde hair pulled in a tight bun and sly smile on her face, and when the crowd chanted her name, the eastern witch found herself joining the ovations for Slytherin's Golden Girl. Trouche was admired by many for her bright intellect and outstanding sportsmanship, and many assumed she would make Captain next year when Steward Charlton, the current Seeker, and Captain, would graduate. The girl's future was already set, and all she had to do was maintain her grades and make sure she stayed sane.

A figure Varya had not expected to see on the field was Abraxas Malfoy, riding his new broom with cockiness and extravagance. From the bat he was carrying, the girl knew that the boy was a Beater, and she felt sorry for whoever would face the wrath of his Bludgers.

The Ravenclaw team was not as familiar, as Della had not told her much about the people that were part of it. The only person she recognized was the Head Boy, Felixius Parkin, a seventh-year male that had quite the admirers rooting for him in the stands. He was a charming lad, with a chiseled face that rivaled the British Royal family, and soft hair that blew in the January breeze with ease. Felix was one of the best Quidditch players that the Ravenclaw team had seen, and Varya remembered a brief conversation she had with Della on the boy.

"Of course, he is absolutely breathtaking! He is a descendant of Walter Parkin...Oh dear, you do not know who that is, do you?"

Varya shook her head, and part of her wanted to tell her friend that she did not truly care for the boy's family, "I am not familiar with Quidditch."

"His family founded the Wigtown Wanderers, only one of the best Quidditch teams in the League. Merlin, Petrov, educate yourself."

The Snitch soared in the sky. The match had started.

"Golden Girl Ivy Trouche immediately takes possession of the Quaffle, soaring to that goal-post, and would you look at that! Ravenclaw's Patricia Puffington sends a Bludger her way immediately— what a catfight! But oh! Malfoy immediately redirects it, speeding on his newly acquired Comet 220; what a wonderful Christmas gift, is it not? Not even released to the public yet! Should this be allowed? I do not know, but it is always a pleasure to see Malfoy fly!" Abbott's voice filled the arena, and it was so high pitched whenever he got excited that Professor Beery had to get him to settle down in his seat before he would tip over the commentator booth.

Varya watched the Slytherin team work together, and yet it was nothing compared to Ravenclaw— they worked like a well-oiled machine, and the girl heard someone behind her mutter that the team Captain was determined to win this year, as it was his last.

"Captain Parkin of Ravenclaw moves eagerly to find the Snitch. Oh, wait, do I see it? No! But I sure hope he does soon—"

"That is favoritism!" yelled a Slytherin from the crowd, but Justin did not care.

" Is he not marvelous? The crowd goes crazy as he avoids Malfoy's Bludger, a fight of the pretty boys! I would not want to see the fan war that will start if one of them breaks a bone. Ravenclaw's Keeper struggles as another Quaffle is sent by the Slytherin team, and yet manages to block it last minute!"

"Since when do you watch Quidditch games?"

Varya turned to face Rosier Renold, who was munching on a bag of candy, and when he offered some to her, she hesitantly took one— peppermint toads. She chewed on it eagerly, but when a hopping sensation came to her stomach, she gave Ren a surprised face. The boy only laughed as he took a seat next to her, throwing his legs over the chair in front of him, and almost hitting a first-year's head in the process.

The crow's cheers magnified as Ravenclaw scored another goal, making them lead with a 30 point difference. It was not much, but definitely the best they had played in that season, and it gave hope of a full comeback by the end of the year.

"I spoke to Icarus this morning; he seems to believe that the two of you are going steady now," muttered Rosier as he pulled a handkerchief to clean his chocolate fingers. Varya just licked hers.

"You are so meddlesome," derided the girl, trying to ignore the pang of fault that she felt in her abdomen. She had been supposed to end things with the boy, make it easier for him to move on as he found out the truth about her feelings, and yet she could not bring herself to do it. Varya wanted to convince herself that she could muffle her feelings from Riddle, and somehow, Icarus seemed to be her best shot at it.

Even so, Rosier gave her a judgmental look. He had grown up with Lestrange, and despite his belief that the boy was utterly obnoxious sometimes, they had become quite friendly. In some way, Renold cared for Varya as well, as they had all gotten closer to her over the past weeks, and yet his loyalty stood by the Knights, and he did not like it when one of them was being used for someone else's personal benefit.

Do not misunderstand; his heart went out for the girl, as it was indeed a sacrilege to fall for a sociopath like Tom Riddle, but that was something Varya had to deal with on her own. No matter how hard she would try, Lestrange would not be the solution to that entanglement. He would only get hurt.

"You know how I feel about what you are doing," remarked Rosier, glancing at the match just in time to see Ivy Trouche score another point, and he whistled as the girl flew by, only earning a poisonous glower in return.

"I do," Varya's voice carried some repentance, at least, which was an indication that she knew that what she was doing was wrong, "But he is happy, at least."

"Foolishly happy, because you are deceiving him into believing that you care for him."

"I do!" another judgmental stare, "I truly do care for Icarus; he is one of the people I value most here. Do I love him? No, that belongs to someone else as much as I wish it did not, and yet part of me can only hope that one day that might change. And besides, what is wrong with trying?"

"Of course, it is wrong; you are in love with his friend!"

Varya groaned, and tipped over as she grabbed at her head in frustration. She knew that her actions were not scrupulous, she knew that her heart would never yearn for Lestrange the moment they kissed for the first time, but she was in denial. To her, it was the lesser of two evils— be in a loveless relationship or be hopelessly devoted to someone who would unscrew your head at the first annoyance. Nevertheless, she was only thinking of herself in this situation.

It was hard to do the opposite. Humans tended to always watch out for themselves, selfish beings, and it was easier to stand on the outside and judge than be the one making the change.

"Oh, no! Slytherin's Seeker, Steward Charlton, has spotted the Snitch! This is no good for the Ravenclaw team, who has been making an impeccable comeback, and yet Felixius Parkin tails right behind Charlton, gliding through the field with determination. A BLUDGER! It misses and hits Ravenclaw's Patricia Puffington; what a shame! She falls off the broom and plummets, ouch! That will surely result in a few broken bones, but I hear Matron Aduddel has restocked the candy bowl, so all is well! Well, except for the pain, I suppose..."

The whole stadium raised to its feet, watching the two seekers shove each other as they chased the Snitch with confidence, avoiding the countless Bludgers sent their way, and Varya found herself mimicking their actions.

"Charlton reaches out, determined to grab that little golden devil, and— oh! Just as he is about to get it, a Bludger knocks him off, it seems that this is Parkin's moment to shine, and the crowd of ladies chants' grow stronger. Parkin, Parkin, eagle's might! Parkin, Parkin, he is so bright! Fly Felixius, fly on your broom! Show the Slytherins their doom!" Abbott participated in the distasteful chant, and Varya could not help but sneer at the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs that join in, taunting her own house, "AND THERE WE HAVE IT! PARKING HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! Ravenclaw has won the game with a score of 230 points! Better luck next time, serpents!"

The Slytherin crowd booed and sneered as the Head-Boy flew by, not caring about having any points deducted for unsportsmanlike behavior. The bleak atmosphere of a colossal loss settled in immediately, and the serpents started vanishing from the stadium. Varya and Rosier looked at each other, then began making their way down the tower's stairs before running to the field, where the Slytherin team was angrily throwing their equipment at the ground.

"Dagnabit, Malfoy, why did you not block that bloody Bludger?" squealed Ivy as she marched up to the boy, already prepared to tackle him to the ground.

Malfoy jeered, "I was on the other side of the field, you absolute horn spoon!".

The two gawked at each other furiously, before they snarled and turned to their respective friends. Trouche immediately ran to Varya, whereas Abraxas stomped his way to Rosier.

"Can you believe this, Varya? Ravenclaw beat us! Unbelievable, truly— they are lucky they have bloody Parkin on their team, and I find it so unfair! His whole family plays Quidditch, he grew up eating it for breakfast, and you know what? I think that is bogus!" the girl jabbered on as she paced around, her hands flapping around at an impressive speed, but Varya could only stare, unsure what to say, "Now, if I were Captain, I would have done this completely differently! First of all, what was worm-for-brains Malfoy even doing on the other side of the field when he saw that the seekers were chasing the Snitch!"

"Piss off, you foul woman!" roared Malfoy from the entrance to the changing rooms, as Rosier tried to stop him from advancing toward the Chaser.

Suddenly, Ivy took off her shoe and chucked it at the boy's head as he turned around to leave, hitting him right in the nape of the neck. Varya could tell the girl took Quidditch very seriously, and yet the sight of her getting violent over it was terribly amusing, "I will curse your whole bloodline, you arse!"

That is all it took for Abraxas to lose his temper, and he started chasing the blonde down the field, murder on his mind. Varya could only blink and stare as she watched them run around the enormous land, both infuriated with the other.

"Your friends are quite sore losers, ey?" came a Scottish accent from behind her, and Varya turned to meet the honey eyes of Felixius Parkin, who had changed out of his match uniform and was now sporting his Ravenclaw attire, Head-Boy badge on his robe. He extended out a gallant hand to her, and Varya shook it, unsure of why he had approached her, "Felixius Parkin, but I prefer being called Felix; has a nicer ring to it, does it not?"

"I suppose," her voice was withdrawn, and she glanced at Rosier, who was now cheering Malfoy on, "Varya Petrov."

"So I have heard. Now, Petrov, I would like to extend an invitation to you and your Slytherin friends. We are throwing a celebration party, Ravenclaw rarely has such a victory, and we believe in inviting our adversaries," he said, and Varya could not help but compare him to Tom Riddle.

Felix was much more informal, and although he was older by two years, at least, he had a more boyish charm to him than Tom did. He was attractive, that was certain, perhaps even more so than Riddle, and yet his eyes missed that spark that the Slytherin prefect had.

"I do not imagine they would find the invite to be as courteous as you might think," the girl responded, crossing her arms as she regarded the Ravenclaw senior.

He laughed, eyes turning into two semi-lunas, and his teeth flashed, "Of course, it is only normal. That is unfortunate. However, there is something else I would like to discuss with you. As you might know, I have been assisting Professor Kettleburn for most of his Care for Magical Creature classes. Only fair I do so, after all, he is rather...prone to accidents. However, with my N.E.W.T.s coming right around the corner, I have become quite busy, and so he has asked me to find someone to fill in the position."

"And you thought of me?" the girl asked, eyebrow furrowing in mistrust. It was true that she was best in her year, but how come he had not gone for Riddle, who oozed charm out of every pore? Or, perhaps, a sixth year?

"Yes, precisely. You have scored better on your exam last semester than any other student, and Kettleburn would surely love to work with you. He is quite the influential man in his department, and can most certainly get you a good position after graduation, should you be interested," Felix explained eagerly, and they started walking together out of the field and to the castle, "Now, the transition of positions should go by smoothly, I expect, you must only attend my weekly meetings with him in a fortnight. We have a task for you already!"

Varya thought about it for a few moments, not wanting to make a rash decision and regret it. Her schedule had started getting extensively packed, as she had picked up Alchemy as an extra elective despite Dippet's warning of burning herself out, and her meetings with Dumbledore were supposed to start this week. And yet, she found herself nodding to Felix's proposal, knowing very well that if her mind were occupied all the time, it would not wander to a certain Slytherin prefect.

"Brilliant!" echoed the Head-Boy, clasping his hands in excitement, "I will let our Professor know immediately."

"What is the task you have for me, if you do not mind me asking?"

"Ah, well, Professor Beery has been trying to get Dippet's approval for the staging of a theatre play, The Fountain of Fair Fortune, and he needs a couple of worms for it. Do not ask me why, I have not read The Tales of Beedle the Bard; alas, you will be in charge of them during the opening night."

They reached the Grand Hall, and Felix bid the girl goodbye with a short bow, as it was time for seventh years to have their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and Varya continued walking the corridor until she reached the Alchemy course. She was early, with barely anyone having bothered to come to class before the bell chimed, and so she sat at the front desk and pulled out her textbook.

She started underlining another chapter, cursing herself for not studying over the break as Riddle had, mostly since this was to be one of her more challenging classes. There were only a few fifth years that had been brave enough to tackle the subject, most being turned away by the notion, and yet Varya had decided that it would look good on her transcripts when she graduated. Not that she knew what she wanted to do, but it was never a bad thing to keep your options open by dabbling with a bit of everything.

She chewed on her quill anxiously as her eyes skimmed over the paragraph she was reading once again, small scribbles gracing the upper half of the page— her mind could not focus. Varya kept thinking back to her conversation with Dumbledore, at the way her magic had reacted to the exposal of betrayal, and her skin covered in goosebumps.

There had been something so terribly wrong, so odious in nature, and she had not felt like the witch she once was. This had been happening for a while now, and the first instance she had felt it was when she had killed that damned rabbit in the Wool's orphanage.

She was starting to lose her trust in Dumbledore, and that was an incredibly dangerous thing, as he was her anchor to morality at this point, the only good influence in her life besides Della.

The door of the class opened, and multiple students started walking in, chatting about the Quidditch game, and expressing their opinions on who was to win the House Cup this year. Most bets were on Hufflepuff, and some expressed their astonishment on Slytherin falling in the ranks, as Ravenclaw now had a chance of winning. They had only lost once against the Gryffindors, but the score was very close.

"Settle down," came the voice of Dumbledore as he walked in the classroom, and Varya saw Tom Riddle make his way to the front desk, sitting two seats away from her. Their eyes met briefly, and he glared at her harshly before turning to his book.

Varya sighed, knowing very well that the boy was avoiding her, and that itself was not a good sign, because an undistracted Tom was a scheming Tom. Her mind went back to Nott's words from a couple of weeks back, the self-incrimination regarding the case of Arthur Thompson, and she wondered how Tom Riddle fit into all of it.

Then, there was the whole ordeal that had transpired between the two on New Year's Eve, and then tension that bubbled whenever they were together. Varya feared that her feelings would become obvious to the boy, and that he would try to take advantage of her state of mind. She had to be extremely careful with her body language, as it was what usually gave her away.

"As you may know, Alchemy is a very delicate subject, something that not many wizards master, and yet it holds great potential and wonder. Now, can someone point what our main objectives will be during this semester?" Dumbledore asked as he sat on his desk, playing with a quill in his hand. He raised his gaze to the pupils sitting behind the desks, and almost everyone avoided his stare. Everyone except, of course, Tom Riddle. "Yes, Tom?"

Varya winced at the fact that the Professor had used Tom's birth name, knowing how much the boy detested it. The girl barely used it herself, usually only addressing him as Riddle, as he had a tendency to grow rigid whenever he was reminded of his muggle father.

It might not have been evident to the untrained eye, but Varya had been around Riddle so much that she could immediately tell when the boy was irritated. His jaw set, and he cemented the most bogus smile she had ever seen, eyebrows raising as he blinked aggressively. He did not appreciate being called Tom, even more so when it came from Dumbledore.

"I believe that we will be studying the transmutation of substances, as well as the composition, structure, and magic proprieties of the elements, sir," he returned politely. However, there was a slight jab in his last word. Of course, it was barely detectable, but Dumbledore hoisted an eyebrow up at his attitude.

"That is correct," he continued, promptly ignoring the boy's silent challenge, and then he trained his eyes on Varya. "Miss Petrov, can you give us an example of transmutation?"

Varya's eyes flew to her textbook momentarily, and Riddle's scoff was not missed, then she pursed her lips and answered, "Turning metals to gold would be an appropriate example."

"Also correct," asserted the teacher, "Now, what I want you to understand about Alchemy is its difference from muggle chemistry. You see, they have something quite similar to transmutation, except it is considered to be nuclear, the mutation of an element from another based on the number of protons and such. This is a new technique, and they have barely managed to achieve it in 1925, and yet it is already being tested in laboratories. What exactly are they trying to recreate?"

It was a seventh-year Hufflepuff that raised his arm this time, "The Philosopher's stone."

"Precisely, they are trying, in a way, to copy magic. Nevertheless, why is this not magic?"

Varya looked around, not having a precise answer, and noticed that the rest of the students were doing the same thing, some even giving her and Tom curious glances. How odd it was that not even the star students could answer this enigma. To Petrov's surprise, however, Tom raised his hand, and yet when Dumbledore called on him, it was not an answer that left his mouth, but a question.

"How is this relevant, Professor? Why should we care about muggles and their odd technologies, they will never be able to turn lead to gold, and I fail to understand how this relates to our curriculum," the prefect argued, obviously irritated by the nonsensical babbling.

"Do you fail to understand how it is relevant, or do you simply not know the answer, Tom?"

Tom shut his mouth tight, and Varya was frightened by how his polite face melted into a sociopathic look of wrath, and yet a moment later, it was gone, replaced by the bothersome calmness.

It had become quite clear that somewhere along the way, Albus had given up on Tom Riddle, and had merely passed on his enigma to someone else. Perhaps, that is why the boy loathed him so much— he resembled his father too much. A man of great stature, admired by many, who should have been an important figure in his life, and yet he had fled at the slightest indication of darkness. Tom had never had the guidance of a paternal figure in his life, and Dumbledore could have stepped in and tried to guide him, had he truly wanted to save the boy. Regardless, he had assigned this task to Varya.

Riddle did not say anything else, and so Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "One could argue that what the muggles are doing is that they are starting to manipulate magic, and believe me, I would not put it past them to turn lead into gold in the next forty years, or even send a man to the moon. They might be roughly five-hundred years behind us in such matters, but there is no denying that their science is just as obscure as the idea of witchcraft."

"And yet they still burned us for it!" said a revolted Slytherin.

"That is not here nor there; unfortunately, the human mind fears what it does not understand," Dumbledore waved his hand to dismiss the comment, the pulled at a board and started writing down the first elements in the periodic table, "Now, I want you to get into pairs and start working on the assignment in your textbook. You will be covering the circle or transmutation, and I want at least a paragraph written before the period ends. The rest of it, I expect by next week. Arrange in alphabetical order of your family names."

Of course, it was natural that "R" came after "P," and so Varya found herself walking to Riddle shyly, the only other fifth-year student in the room. She sat at his desk and took in a deep breath when the boy refused to look up from his work, much rather doing it on his own.

His posture was stiffened, a dead giveaway that Tom was aware of her presence and was ignoring her on purpose. Varya was bewildered at his impassiveness, as he naturally at least enjoyed riling her up with witty remarks and outdated sarcasm.

"Riddle," she whispered, and when he ignored her again, she pulled at his parchment, making his quill drag an ugly line through what he was writing. He had already started his assignment, the girl realized, and that made her frown.

"I will end you," he growled as he snatched his essay back, frowning at the damage before casting a quick spell to erase the mistake.

"This is supposed to be a group project, and I would rather not get points deducted because something crawled up your arse this morning."

Another nasty glare, and a scoff, "You have obviously not studied over the break, and I do not want you to drag down my grade because you came unprepared."

"Yes, because someone had me doing all his dirty work during the break," she hissed at him, and Tom glanced up for the first time, meeting her eyes in a broken promise. Varya felt her pulse drum when she faced the depth of his ocean tide stare, and his expression carried some sort of gaze that was hard to describe, almost like a child that had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and yet he refused to admit it. Too bad the boy had no conscience. 

"And you failed miserably," he sneered at her, "I had to get the information myself."

"Had you actually provided the security that you boasted about, I would have not been put in a situation where I had to fend for myself and get hurt," she argued, although it was not the real reason she had fled the party, "Why would I continue a task when you could not hold your own end of the bargain?"

"You claim to be some kind of almighty witch, and yet you need us to protect you?" Tom ridiculed her, trying his best to keep a pleasant face despite the wrath in his tone. People were always watching him, and that meant he had to keep his charade solid. "I assumed you were capable enough not to need my supervision. Perhaps, I overestimated you. After all, you are merely a child."

"So are you! We are the same age, Riddle."

Tom let out a throaty growl, then leaned over so he could make himself heard, "I am not a child, Petrov. I have never been, because I did not have the luxury of a childhood. My existence has been followed by a dark cloud of misfortune since the minute my filthy mother perished, and yet I made a cloak out of the mist and a crown out of the pain. I wear it proudly— do you?"

"You know nothing about how I grew up," the girl said, onyx eyes peering at the prefect with fire ablaze. Merlin, she barely knew much about her childhood herself, so how dare this boy make such assumptions of her? "Your mother died giving birth to you, she sacrificed herself, mine left me because her fanaticism was more precious to her than her own daughter."

"Your mother was a woman that fought for what she believed in, mine was a coward that fell prey to her own weakness."

"Whatever, Riddle," Varya scoffed, then leaned back in her chair with crossed arms, not wanting to deal with the boy's cruel behavior today. He was so frustrating, and it drove her mad. How dare he speak on her childhood as if he had taken his time to ever ask her about it?

As soon as class finished, Tom Riddle packed his things and stormed out, not even bothering to greet her goodbye, and Varya rolled her eyes at his actions. He was childish, incredibly so, and had no reason to be acting this way. So what if something had happened between them in the forest? He did not have to act as if it burned his mind to think about her. God, he was frustrating!

Varya made her way to Dumbeldore, who was packing his papers and gave him a courteous nod.

"We start tomorrow," he said abruptly, then walked out of the classroom in a hurry, almost as if he was late for an important meeting.

***

Hi! First of all, I want to thank everyone for the amazing support this story had received so far, especially those of you who comment and vote on every chapter. 

I am a pre-med student, I have three internships and a research lab. Writing is something that occupies all of my free time. So it is nice to receive support, and it motivates me a lot.

The next chapter is quite long, and it will come out in less than twenty-four hours I believe, but after that, I will not be able to update until Saturday because I have a very important exam. I hope you can understand.