"𝘕𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘪𝘵."
~𝘑.𝘬 𝘙𝘰𝘸𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘙𝘶𝘣𝘺 𝘉.
-

"I'm sure that you'll be in our dorm, all the others are filled up," Isadora said with absolute certainty, pushing open the red oak door to her dorm.

They all grinned widely as they spotted the trunk and guitar placed beside the unused bed, confirming their assumptions.

The area felt homier than Hilary expected, there were multi-sized posters stuck onto the once plain stone walls, and plant themed wardrobe stickers covering the dark mahogany wardrobes - including his under-utilised one.

There were even a few healthy pot plants sitting on the sills of the windows, which were tinted shamrock green so that seeing past them would be an impossible feat without the aid of magic.

The alder four-poster beds themselves were themed sage green and ivory, the tied silk drapes a richer, deeper sage. The stone flooring was also entirely blanketed by smooth bamboo carpet, which perfectly matched the colour scheme of everything else.

All in all, this dorm was aesthetic. Very aesthetic.

"You seem to know your way around colour schemes, the room is beautiful." He praised, walking towards his belongings to unpack.

"Well this is mainly all thanks to Willow, Isadora and I only added and suggested some other things," Sierra said as she proudly patted Willow's arm, the dark-haired teen laughing shyly.

Hilary nodded, before shoving his fidgeting hands deep within his robe pockets. "Is this really fine to you though? Isn't it awkward to have a boy in your dorm?"

"No sweat, we've all had boys over. Even if it wasn't allowed, plus; I think that you're cool." Isadora kindly answered, Sierra flicking her arm.

"Ow! What?"

"You weren't meant to mention that."

Isadora flicked Sierra back with the power of a thousand butterflies.
"Him being cool?"

"No, about the boys."

"Hey. Is that an instrument?" Willow pointed towards the rectangular ash grey case, quickly changing the topic. Hilary nodded as he unlocked his trunk with two satisfying clicks.

"It's my guitar."

"That's so cool, hey; could you play for us?" Isadora asked, curious.

"No."

"Wait, I've got an idea." Willow sat on the edge of her bed, sinking into the soft duvet.

"Why don't we make a bet? We have DADA first thing tomorrow, and the teacher always starts off the year with a duel kind of thing. How about you volunteer, and try it out. You win the bet, you don't have to play for us. We win, you have to play the guitar for us." She suggested quietly, falling back into her bed with a dull deflating sound.

"What makes you think that this will be fair for you? I may be new to this school, but I'm not new to magic at all." Hilary swung open the wardrobe doors, grasping a couple of wooden coat hangers and returning to his trunk.

Sierra seemed to have had a mini-debate within her mind during the few seconds she took to respond, deciding on a path to explain the experienced duellers without making Hilary feel pathetic. It showed in the multiple expressions she made.

"I'm not trying to downgrade you at all, but I daresay that you'll be versing a more experienced dueller. Lestrange and Abraxas always volunteer and have been duelling for longer than a majority of us, they have tons of experience."

"I see..." He hung up his pristine white shirts and sacramento robes onto a thin metal beam, the garments dangling for a moment by their hangers as if there were a gentle breeze swaying them; before becoming idle.

"Then I agree."

-

Hilary woke up from a nightmare sweaty and pale, coffee brown orbs wide open; arms covered in small bumps.

His head felt heavy, as did his running heart. He sat up and groped blindly for his sage and rose-gold watch, squinting to see the time the three ticking arms presented.

06:43.

If the Slytherin dorms weren't placed at the bottom of the Black Lake, Hilary would have peered out to see the dark dim sky, barely lit by the waking sun; which was slowly rising from the tree-shrouded horizon.

And if he could hear anything from the outside, he would be listening to the soft yet eerie rustle of trees from the forbidden forest; the black lake babbling quietly and passing the stories the wind eventually carried.

He sighed, rubbing his drooping tired eyes; unwillingly recalling snippets of his horrifying dream.

Shouts.

His brother.

Him.

Though, this was less of an average nightmare. It was more of a memory that Hilary hopelessly tried to repress over and over again. The terrifying memories of his younger brother's unfortunate, accidental death.

He pushed himself off the bed, and away from his distressing thoughts; noiselessly pulling out his uniform that he had neatly hung the other night.

The other three were still sound asleep, Isadora muttering in her sleep, Sierra and Willow both snoring ever so softly; all three twitching sporadically.

It only took him ten minutes to soundlessly do all that was required.

Brush his teeth, and change into his comfortable Slytherin uniform, which consisted of his shirt and emerald tie, pitch-black slacks with a dark charcoal grey sweater, and matching warm winter robes. He quickly ran his fingers through his fairly tamed hair and departed.

When he left the dorms with his black leather satchel hanging from his shoulder, he expected to be met with the sight of the crackling dying embers of a fire and large shadows lurking in the common room.

Instead, he was blasted with a wall of warmth and the sight of a teen, sitting up with a familiar perfect posture; drawn into a book - or diary - of some sort.

"Riddle? What on earth are you doing here?" Tom's eyes didn't pull away from the miniature printed words of the book in hand, but it was evident that he had ceased reading because those cold orbs were no longer moving along the page.

"I could ask you the same question."

Hilary walked past the velvety green armchair Riddle was in and towards the dancing flames, which were greedily licking the charring logs.

"Touché."

He slid his hands into his robe pockets, gazing into the blazing fire.

"So are you going to answer me?"

"Isn't it clear that I'm reading?" Tom shot back, resuming his reading with an expression that showed he was becoming agitated. Shifting in his seat, unknowing of the fact that the other could see him through the reflection of the polished stone hearth.

"What exactly?"

"That's none of your business. What are you doing here?"

Hilary yawned, tired tears pricking his eyes as he did so, exhaling deeply and answering; staring almost mindlessly at the fire.

"I had a nightmare. Couldn't get back to sleep. Nothing too serious." Tom ceased reading again, this time looking up; only able to see Hilary's back and slightly curly, well-kept hair. He leaned forwards slightly and softly closed his book; thumb placed on the page he was on.

"A simple nightmare, or perhaps; a memory?

"That's none of your business." He snapped, turning on his heel and speeding past; a small chilly breeze of air caressing Tom's face from the speed of his exit.

"So a memory."

-

"Why hello Mr Raine, how exciting this is; to have you as one of my students!"

Hilary dragged out one of the worn wooden chairs with a raised eyebrow, politely questioning the professor that stood before him with a confused tone.

"I apologise, professor, should I know you? What happened to our assigned DADA professor, Merrythought, was it?" The rather large man shook his head, the wide cheerful smile still stretching across his face.

"No, but I happened to know of your...excellent and unique skills. A prodigy, I heard, and I do believe that Galatea has fallen ill. I am merely a substitute for the time being. I'm Horace Slughorn." The male nodded.

"Ahh, I see. A pleasure to meet y-"

"Tom! M'boy, welcome back; how was your break?" Slughorn instantly shifted his attention to Tom, waving him over with his chubby hand.

What kind of teacher cuts a student off?

"Have you met Hilary yet?" The two teenagers caught each other's deep brown eyes, both as equally piercing and cold as the other. Any normal student would have visibly recoiled from the dangerous tension that was already building; even though the two barely held a grudge against each other. The professor, however, seemed to have not noticed this tension. His wide grin never faltered.

"Yes, we introduced ourselves earlier."

Introduced my gay ass, you didn't even tell me your first name.

"Very good, ahh; here comes the rest of the class. Better get to your seat, Tom." The prefect flashed a bewitching grin, which soon dispersed once Slughorn swivelled to greet the other tired students. He sat rather elegantly by the wooden desk beside Hilary's, front and centre.

He simply ignored the Asian, folding his fingers together and completing the look of a villain from nearly every movie or book Hilary's ever read. Perfect posture, poise, and extremely good looking.

The class soon filled with yawning students, the Slytherins adorning their sacramento uniforms with pride and spruceness, while the majority of the other house - which Hilary recalled to be Gryffindor - trudged in with a rather messily done attire; as though they slept in their uniforms.

Isadora, Sierra and Willow appeared by the doorway; speedily spotting Hilary and racing towards him.

"How early did you wake up?" Sierra questioned, sitting at the seat beside him. The other two clumsily dropped by a desk directly behind the pair, looming over their desk as they leaned forward.

"Six forty-three."

"You're crazy!" Willow whisper shouted, carefully pushing her sticker-covered satchel - pastel themed - beneath her desk with her foot.

"Good morning students!" The low hum of chatter quickly died down.

"As you can see, I am not Merrythought. Your usual professor is - rather unfortunately - feeling rather sick at the moment. So, I shall be your substitute for the time being!"

The room burst into chatter as the students speculated the things that could have happened to their previous DADA teacher, maybe she caught dragon pox? Or got an extremely deadly disease that couldn't be cured?

"Professor!" A Gryffindor at the back of the classroom called out, sticking his hand up.

"Are we still having our start of the year duel?"

"Yes yes, of course! Can't let the tradition die now because of a little mishap, can we? So put your quills and parchment away and whip out your wands." Slughorn's lively tone seemed to have raised everyone's moods by some degree because they were now running towards the long duelling platform with eagerness.

Once the students had clustered around, Slughorn stood by the head of the oblong table.

"Any volunteers?" Hilary lazily raised his hand, many of the other students instantly sticking their's up. Some had been waiting for this moment for many months, duelling wasn't a very common class activity that they had the pleasure of participating in. Time to do so was also limited.

"How about Hilary, you can try out! And let's see, ah yes. Abraxas, please step forward!" The professor very easily picked the two out of the many hands, ushering them through all of the student's bodies and up towards the ebony baobab table.

"Don't worry, we'll be able to squeeze in a few duels today! Now, wands by your side! Hilary, have you ever duelled before?" The teen paused for a moment, thinking. He had never really duelled before, hex a student out of the blue? Yes. Proper duelling, however, is something he had never experienced.

"No professor, though I think that I get the idea." The large man nodded, anxiously responding.

"If you say so. Malfoy?"

"Yes, professor?" He answered whilst staring Hilary down, watching him shrug off his heavy cloak with a sigh and hand it to Isadora; who told him something that Abraxas couldn't quite hear. Something about a bet of some sort.

"Go easy on Hilary, it's his first time."

"Oh, I'll go easy," Malfoy responded unconvincingly, smugly smirking.

"Okay then, it's time for bows. Now, remember, I want no serious injuries in this class; Madame Pomfrey will be out for my blood if I let a single one of you go to med bay with so much as a scratch."

Hilary and Abraxas bowed, blue-grey meeting deep brown, swivelling and taking seven steps each; away from the other.

"On the count of the then. One." The two both turned once more, so that they were facing each other once again, tightly gripping their wands.

"Two." The wands raised.

"Three!"

"Expelliarmus!" "Progeto!" A bolt of ruby red fizzled out as it shot into Hilary's shield, whining miserably as its short lived life faded away, another speedy round of spells flying towards their prey.

"Rictusempera." Abraxas was nearly too late to block the spell because of how quietly it was spoken, however, he did succeed, and was quick to shoot another back. Scowling.

"Everte Statum." Hilary's flying tie just skimmed the edge of the brilliant purple spell that whizzed by like a thin bullet, slicing through the air, the teen barely dodging. The two kept an excellent and intense rally, both had been able to keep themselves on two feet with some very close calls. Light on their toes, acrobats or ballerinas dancing on the dance floor.

Slughorn and the students were so drawn in that some of them were leaning over the platform, the power of the spells making their hair dance wildly as if they were bursts of wind.

Both were beginning to wear out and huff by the tenth round of spells, and Hilary was becoming tired of this meaningless squabble of spells. So the boy decided to end it. He hesitantly looked up, soon stepping on the anxious feeling that was buried deep within his heart and discreetly glancing at Abraxas's lips, waiting for him to spit another charm.

The platinum blond tried to send another spell his way, but no sound came out when he attempted to do so. He quickly raised his hand, fingers meeting his mouth. His lips were sealed.

"Accio Abraxas." With wide shocked eyes, Abraxas was reeled in towards Hilary, a fish caught on a fishing line. The moment he was close enough the Asian plucked the other's wand out of his hand, giving a short sarcastic smile before dropping it and gently kicking it away.

With an annoyingly innocent grin, Hilary spoke.

"I guess I win."