The following day, Ivy was determined to avoid Tom Riddle at all costs. She didn’t need his cryptic warnings or the way he seemed to think he could dictate her life. Unfortunately, avoiding Tom was easier said than done.

By mid-morning, word had spread about Cedric’s increasingly erratic behavior. Rumors swirled in hushed whispers: Cedric had been seen stalking the corridors near Gryffindor Tower, his temper boiling over whenever anyone tried to talk to him. Ivy felt her stomach twist with anxiety, though she refused to let anyone see it.

As she made her way to Charms, she caught sight of Cedric at the end of the corridor. His gaze locked on hers instantly, his expression unreadable but tense. Ivy froze, her hand tightening around her bag.

He started toward her, his strides purposeful and unrelenting.

“Hey, Ivy!”

The familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife. Ivy turned to see Mattheo Riddle leaning against a nearby wall, his usual smirk in place. Tom was with him, his cold eyes shifting between her and Cedric.

“Ivy,” Cedric called, his voice sharp as he approached.

Before she could respond, Tom stepped forward, blocking Cedric’s path. His presence was calm yet commanding, his gaze hard. “She doesn’t want to talk to you, Diggory.”

“This doesn’t concern you, Riddle,” Cedric snapped, his fists clenching.

Tom’s smirk was razor-sharp. “It does when you’re harassing my girlfriend.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. Ivy felt her cheeks heat up, her heart pounding in her chest. Tom’s tone was casual, but the challenge in his eyes was unmistakable.

Cedric’s face twisted with anger. “Girlfriend?” He scoffed, looking at Ivy. “This is a joke, right?”

Ivy hesitated, her mind racing. She hated how easily Tom had thrown out the lie, but she knew denying it would only make things worse.

“Not a joke,” she said firmly, stepping closer to Tom. “So, if you could just leave me alone, Cedric, that’d be great.”

Cedric’s eyes darkened, his jaw clenching. “This isn’t over,” he said before turning on his heel and stalking off.

Ivy exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing slightly. But the relief was short-lived as she turned to Tom, who was watching her with a smug expression.

“Really?” she muttered. “You couldn’t resist, could you?”

“You’re welcome,” Tom replied smoothly, his tone dripping with arrogance.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Ivy snapped, glaring at him.

“Maybe not,” Tom said, stepping closer. “But you needed it.”

His proximity was unnerving, and Ivy took a step back, crossing her arms. “What’s your game, Riddle? Why do you care what Cedric does?”

Tom tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her feel exposed. “Let’s just say I don’t tolerate weakness. And letting Diggory walk all over you would be exactly that.”

Ivy narrowed her eyes. “You don’t care about me. You’re just using me to prove a point.”

Tom’s smirk faded slightly, his gaze softening in a way that caught her off guard. “Maybe. Or maybe I just hate seeing you act like you can’t handle yourself.”

Ivy opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss for words. Before she could process his response, Mattheo spoke up from behind them.

“Lovebirds, as entertaining as this is, we’ve got class,” he drawled, gesturing lazily toward the Charms classroom.

Ivy rolled her eyes and pushed past Tom, heading inside. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, but she refused to look back.

---

That evening, Ivy sat in the Gryffindor common room, staring into the crackling fire. Hermione was reading nearby, but the comforting presence of her friend did little to ease the storm in Ivy’s mind.

“You’re quiet,” Hermione remarked, glancing up from her book.

“Just… thinking,” Ivy replied.

Hermione frowned. “About Cedric?”

“About Tom,” Ivy admitted reluctantly.

Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “Tom? What about him?”

Ivy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “He keeps stepping in, acting like he’s protecting me. I don’t understand why. It’s not like he cares.”

“Are you sure about that?” Hermione asked, her voice cautious.

“Yes. I mean, no. I mean… I don’t know.” Ivy groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t trust him, but I can’t figure him out.”

Hermione set her book aside, her expression serious. “Tom Riddle doesn’t do anything without a reason. Whatever he’s up to, you need to be careful, Ivy.”

“I know,” Ivy said softly. But even as she agreed, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Tom’s motivations weren’t as simple as Hermione made them out to be.

---

That night, as Ivy lay in bed, her thoughts were consumed by Tom’s words. His gaze, his tone, the way he seemed to see right through her—it all made her feel like she was playing a game without knowing the rules.

And worst of all, she couldn’t deny the flicker of something else—something she didn’t want to name—whenever he was near.

Whatever this was, Ivy knew one thing: Tom Riddle was dangerous, and she was walking a very fine line.